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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:38:47 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:38:47 -0700 |
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diff --git a/12059-h/12059-h.htm b/12059-h/12059-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07104f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/12059-h/12059-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11277 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + <title>The World's Greatest Books</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + p + {text-align: justify;} + + blockquote + {text-align: justify;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 + {text-align: center;} + + hr + {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + + html>body hr + {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + + hr.full + {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full + {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + + pre + {font-size: 0.7em; color: #000; background-color: #FFF;} + + .poetry + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 0%; + text-align: left;} + + .footnote + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em;} + + .index + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + text-align: center;} + + .figure + {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; + text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img + {border: none;} + + .date + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + text-align: right;} + + span.rightnote + {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 1%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.leftnote + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 92%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.linenum + {float:right; + text-align: right; font-size: 0.7em;} + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12059 ***</div> + +<h1>THE WORLD'S</h1> <h1>GREATEST</h1> <h1>BOOKS</h1> + +<h2>JOINT EDITORS</h2> + +<h3>ARTHUR MEE</h3> <h4>Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge</h4> + +<h3>J.A. HAMMERTON</h3> <h4>Editor of Harmsworth's Universal +Encyclopaedia</h4> + +<h3>VOL. IX</h3> <h3>LIVES AND LETTERS</h3> + +<h4>MCMX</h4> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Table of Contents</h2><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#ABELARD_AND_HELOISE">ABÉLARD AND HÉLOÏSE</a><br /> + <a href="#Love-Letters">Love-Letters</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#HENRI_FREDERIC_AMIEL">AMIEL, H.F.</a><br /> + <a href="#Fragments_of_an_Intimate_Diary">Fragments of an Intimate Diary</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#ST_AUGUSTINE">AUGUSTINE, SAINT</a><br /> + <a href="#Confessions">Confessions</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#JAMES_BOSWELL">BOSWELL, JAMES</a><br /> + <a href="#The_Life_of_Samuel_Johnson_LLD">Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D.</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#SIR_DAVID_BREWSTER">BREWSTER, SIR DAVID</a><br /> + <a href="#Life_of_Sir_Isaac_Newton">Life of Sir Isaac Newton</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#JOHN_BUNYAN">BUNYAN, JOHN</a><br /> + <a href="#Grace_Abounding">Grace Abounding</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#ALEXANDER_CARLYLE">CARLYLE, ALEXANDER</a><br /> + <a href="#Autobiography1">Autobiography</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#THOMAS_CARLYLE">CARLYLE, THOMAS</a><br /> + <a href="#Letters_and_Speeches_of_Oliver_Cromwell">Letters and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell</a><br /> + <a href="#The_Life_of_Friedrich_Schiller">Life of Schiller</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#BENVENUTO_CELLINI">CELLINI, BENVENUTO</a><br /> + <a href="#Autobiography2">Autobiography</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHATEAUBRIAND">CHATEAUBRIAND, FRANÇOIS RENÉ DE</a><br /> + <a href="#Memoirs_From_Beyond_the_Grave">Memoirs from Beyond the Grave</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#THE_EARL_OF_CHESTERFIELD">CHESTERFIELD, EARL OF</a><br /> + <a href="#Letters_to_His_Son">Letters to His Son</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#MARCUS_TULLIUS_CICERO">CICERO, MARCUS TULLIUS</a><br /> + <a href="#The_Letters_of_Cicero">Letters</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#SAMUEL_TAYLOR_COLERIDGE">COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR</a><br /> + <a href="#Biographia_Literaria">Biographia Literaria</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#WILLIAM_COWPER">COWPER, WILLIAM</a><br /> + <a href="#Letters_Written_in_the_Years_1782-1790">Letters</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#THOMAS_DE_QUINCEY">DE QUINCEY, THOMAS</a><br /> + <a href="#Confessions_of_an_English_Opium-Eater">Confessions of an English Opium-Eater</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#ALEXANDRE_DUMAS">DUMAS, ALEXANDRE</a><br /> + <a href="#Memoirs2">Memoirs</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#JOHN_EVELYN">EVELYN, JOHN</a><br /> + <a href="#Diary">Diary</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#JOHN_FORSTER">FORSTER, JOHN</a><br /> + <a href="#Life_of_Goldsmith">Life of Goldsmith</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#GEORGE_FOX">FOX, GEORGE</a><br /> + <a href="#Journal">Journal</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#BENJAMIN_FRANKLIN">FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN</a><br /> + <a href="#Autobiography3">Autobiography</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#MRS_GASKELL">GASKELL, MRS.</a><br /> + <a href="#The_Life_of_Charlotte_Bronte">The Life of Charlotte Brontë</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#EDWARD_GIBBON">GIBBON, EDWARD</a><br /> + <a href="#Memoirs2">Memoirs</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#GOETHE">GOETHE, J.W. VON</a><br /> + <a href="#Letters_to_Zelter">Letters to Zelter</a><br /> + <a href="#Poetry_and_Truth_from_My_Own_Life">Poetry and Truth</a><br /> + <a href="#Conversations_with_Eckermann">Conversations with Eckermann</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#THOMAS_GRAY">GRAY, THOMAS</a><br /> + <a href="#Letters">Letters</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#ANTONY_HAMILTON">HAMILTON, ANTONY</a><br /> + <a href="#Memoirs_of_the_Count_de_Grammont">Memoirs of the Count De Grammont</a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#NATHANIEL_HAWTHORNE">HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL</a><br /> + <a href="#Our_Old_Home">Our Old Home</a><br /> + +<p>A Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end +of Volume XX.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ABELARD_AND_HELOISE"></a>ABÉLARD AND +HÉLOÏSE</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Love-Letters"></a>Love-Letters</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> In the Paris cemetery of Père-Lachaise, on summer +Sundays, flowers and wreaths are still laid on the tomb of a woman who died +nearly 750 years ago. It is the grave of Heloise and of her lover Abelard, +the hero and heroine of one of the world's greatest love stories. Born in +1079, Abelard, after a scholastic activity of twenty-five years, reached +the highest academic dignity in Christendom--the Chair of the Episcopal +School in Paris. When he was 38 he first saw Heloise, then a beautiful girl +of 17, living with her uncle, Canon Fulbert. Abelard became her tutor, and +fell madly in love with her. The passion was as madly returned. The pair +fled to Brittany, where a child was born. There was a secret marriage, but +because she imagined it would hinder Abelard's advancement, Heloise denied +the marriage. Fulbert was furious. With hired assistance, he invaded +Abelard's rooms and brutally mutilated him. Abelard, distressed by this +degradation, turned monk. But he must have Heloise turn nun; she agreed, +and at 22 took the veil. Ten years later she learned that Abelard had not +found content in his retirement, and wrote to him the first of the five +famous letters. Abelard died in 1142, and his remains were given into the +keeping of Heloise. Twenty years afterwards she died, and was buried beside +him at Paraclete. In 1800 their remains were taken to Paris, and in 1817 +interred in Père-Lachaise Cemetery. The love-letters, originally +written in Latin, about 1128, were first published in Paris in 1616. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Héloïse to Abélard</i></h4> + + +<p>Heloise has just seen a "consolatory" letter of Abelard's to a friend. +She had no right to open it, but in justification of the liberty she took, +she flatters herself that she may claim a privilege over everything which +comes from that hand.</p> + +<p>"But how dear did my curiosity cost me! What disturbance did it +occasion, and how surprised I was to find the whole letter filled with a +particular and melancholy account of our misfortunes! Though length of time +ought to have closed up my wounds, yet the seeing them described by you was +sufficient to make them all open and bleed afresh. Surely all the +misfortunes of lovers are conveyed to them through the eyes. Upon reading +your letter I feel all mine renewed. Observe, I beseech you, to what a +wretched condition you have reduced me; sad, afflicted, without any +possible comfort unless it proceed from you. Be not then unkind, nor deny +me, I beg of you, that little relief which you only can give. Let me have a +faithful account of all that concerns you; I would know everything, be it +ever so unfortunate. Perhaps by mingling my sighs with yours I may make +your sufferings less, for it has been said that all sorrows divided are +made lighter.</p> + +<p>"I shall always have this, if you please, and it will always be +agreeable to me that, when I receive a letter from you, I shall know you +still remember me. I have your picture in my room. I never pass it without +stopping to look at it. If a picture, which is but a mute representation of +an object, can give such pleasure, what cannot letters inspire? We may +write to each other; so innocent a pleasure is not denied us. I shall read +that you are my husband, and you shall see me sign myself your wife. In +spite of all our misfortunes, you may be what you please in your letter. +Having lost the substantial pleasures of seeing and possessing you, I shall +in some measure compensate this loss by the satisfaction I shall find in +your writing. There I shall read your most sacred thoughts; I shall carry +them always about with me; I shall kiss them every moment. I cannot live if +you will not tell me that you still love me.</p> + +<p>"When you write to me you will write to your wife; marriage has made +such a correspondence lawful and since you can without the least scandal +satisfy me why will you not? I am not only engaged by my vows, but I have +the fear of my uncle before me. There is nothing, then, that you need +dread. You have been the occasion of all my misfortunes, you therefore must +be the instrument of my comfort. You cannot but remember (for lovers cannot +forget) with what pleasure I have passed whole days in hearing your +discourse; how, when you were absent, I shut myself from everyone to write +to you; how uneasy I was till my letter had come to your hands; what artful +management it required to engage messengers. This detail perhaps surprises +you, and you are in pain for what may follow. But I am no longer ashamed +that my passion for you had no bounds, for I have done more than all +this.</p> + +<p>"I have hated myself that I might love you; I came hither to ruin myself +in a perpetual imprisonment that I might make you live quietly and at ease. +Nothing but virtue, joined to a love perfectly disengaged from the senses, +could have produced such effects. Vice never inspires anything like this; +it is too much enslaved to the body. This was my cruel uncle's notion; he +measured my virtue by the frailty of my sex, and thought it was the man and +not the person I loved. But he has been guilty to no purpose. I love you +more than ever, and so revenge myself on him. I will still love you with +all the tenderness of my soul till the last moment of my life."</p> + +<p>Formerly, she tells him, the man was the least she valued in him. It was +his heart she desired to possess. "You cannot but be entirely persuaded of +this by the extreme unwillingness I showed to marry you, though I knew that +the name of wife was honourable in the world and holy in religion; yet the +name of your mistress had greater charms because it was more free. The +bonds of matrimony, however honourable, still bear with them a necessary +engagement, and I was very unwilling to be necessitated to love always a +man who would perhaps not always love me. I despised the name of wife that +I might live happy with that of mistress."</p> + +<p>And then, ecstatically recalling the old happy times, she deplores that +she has nothing left but the painful memory that they are past. Beyond +that, she has no regret except that against her will she must now be +innocent. "My misfortune was to have cruel relatives whose malice destroyed +the calm we enjoyed; had they been reasonable, I had now been happy in the +enjoyment of my dear husband. Oh, how cruel were they when their blind fury +urged a villain to surprise you in your sleep! Where was I--where was your +Heloise then? What joy should I have had in defending my lover! I would +have guarded you from violence at the expense of my life. Oh, whither does +this excess of passion hurry me? Here love is shocked, and modesty deprives +me of words."</p> + +<p>She goes on to reproach him with his neglect and silence these ten +years. When she pronounced her "sad vow," he had protested that his whole +being was hers; that he would never live but to love Heloise. But he has +proved the "unfaithful one." Though she is immured in the convent, it was +only harsh relatives and "the unhappy consequences of our love and your +disgrace" that made her put on the habit of chastity. She is not penitent +for the past. At one moment she is swayed by the sentiment of piety, and +next moment she yields up her imagination to all that is amorous and +tender. "Among those who are wedded to God I am wedded to a man; among the +heroic supporters of the Cross I am the slave of a human desire; at the +head of a religious community I am devoted to Abelard alone. Even here I +love you as much as ever I did in the world. If I had loved pleasures could +I not have found means to gratify myself? I was not more than twenty-two +years old, and there were other men left though I was deprived of Abelard. +And yet I buried myself in a nunnery, and triumphed over life at an age +capable of enjoying it to its full latitude. It is to you I sacrifice these +remains of a transitory beauty, these widowed nights and tedious days."</p> + +<p>And then she closes passionately: "Oh, think of me--do not forget +me--remember my love, and fidelity, and constancy: love me as your +mistress, cherish me as your child, your sister, your wife! Remember I +still love you, and yet strive to avoid loving you. What a terrible saying +is this! I shake with horror, and my very heart revolts against what I say. +I shall blot all my paper with tears. I end my long letter wishing you, if +you desire it (would to Heaven I could!), for ever adieu!"</p> + + +<h4><i>II. Abélard to Héloïse</i></h4> + + +<p>Abelard's answer to this letter is almost as passionate. He tells how he +has vainly sought in philosophy and religion a remedy for his disgrace; how +with equal futility he has tried to secure himself from love by the rigours +of the monastic life. He has gained nothing by it all. "If my passion has +been put under a restraint, my thoughts yet run free. I promise myself that +I will forget you, and yet cannot think of it without loving you. After a +multitude of useless endeavours I begin to persuade myself that it is a +superfluous trouble to strive to free myself; and that it is sufficient +wisdom to conceal from all but you how confused and weak I am. I remove to +a distance from your person with an intention of avoiding you as an enemy; +and yet I incessantly seek for you in my mind; I recall your image in my +memory, and in different disquietudes I betray and contradict myself. I +hate you! I love you! You call me your master; it is true you were +entrusted to my care. I saw you, I was earnest to teach you; it cost you +your innocence and me my liberty. If now, having lost the power of +satisfying my passion, I had also lost that of loving you, I should have +some consolation. But I find myself much more guilty in my thoughts of you, +even amidst my tears, than in possessing you when I was in full liberty. I +continually think of you; I continually call to mind your tenderness."</p> + +<p>He explains some of the means he has tried to make himself forget. He +has tried several fasts, and redoubled studies, and exhausted his strength +in constant exercises, but all to no purpose. "Oh, do not," he exclaims, +"add to my miseries by your constancy. Forget, if you can, your favours and +that right which they claim over me; allow me to be indifferent. Why use +your eloquence to reproach me for my flight and for my silence? Spare the +recital of our assignations and your constant exactness to them; without +calling up such disturbing thoughts I have enough to suffer. What great +advantages would philosophy give us over other men if, by studying it, we +could learn to govern our passions? What a troublesome employment is +love!"</p> + +<p>Then he tries to excuse himself for his original betrayal. "Those +charms, that beauty, that air, which I yet behold at this instant, +occasioned my fall. Your looks were the beginning of my guilt; your eyes, +your discourse, pierced my heart; and, in spite of that ambition and glory +which tried to make a defence, love was soon the master." Even now "my love +burns fiercer amidst the happy indifference of those who surround me. The +Gospel is a language I do not understand when it opposes my passion. Void +of all relish for virtue, without concern for my condition and without +application to my studies, I am continually present by my imagination where +I ought not to be, and I find I have no power to correct myself." He +advises her to give up her mind to her holy vocation as a means of +forgetting him. "Make yourself amends by so glorious a choice; make your +virtue a spectacle worthy of men and angels. Drink of the chalice of +saints, even to the bottom, without turning your eyes with uncertainty upon +me. To forget Heloise, to see her no more, is what Heaven demands of +Abelard; and to expect nothing from Abelard, to forget him even as an idea, +is what Heaven enjoins on Heloise."</p> + +<p>He acknowledges that he made her take the veil for his own selfish +reasons, but is now bound to admit that "God rejected my offering and my +prayer, and continued my punishment by suffering me to continue my love. +Thus I bear alike the guilt of your vows and of the passion that preceded +them, and must be tormented all the days of my life." Once more he adjures +her to deliver herself from the "shameful remains" of a passion which has +taken too deep root. "To love Heloise truly," he closes, "is to leave her +to that quiet which retirement and virtue afford. I have resolved it: this +letter shall be my last fault. Adieu! I hope you will be willing, when you +have finished this mortal life, to be buried near me. Your cold ashes need +then fear nothing, and my tomb shall be more rich and renowned."</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Héloïse to Abélard</i></h4> + + +<p>The passion of Heloise is only inflamed by this letter from Abelard. She +has got him to write, and now she wants to see him and to hear more about +him. She cynically remarks that he has made greater advances in the way of +devotion than she could wish. There, alas! she is too weak to follow him. +But she must have his advice and spiritual comfort. "Can you have the +cruelty to abandon me? The fear of this stabs my heart." She reproaches him +for the "fearful presages" of death he had made in his letter. And as +regards his wish that she should take care of his remains, she says: +"Heaven, severe as it has been to me, is not so insensible as to permit me +to live one moment after you. Life without Abelard were an insupportable +punishment, and death a most exquisite happiness if by that means I could +be united to him. If Heaven but hearken to my continual cry, your days will +be prolonged and you will bury me." It is his part, she says, to prepare +<i>her</i> for the great crisis, to receive her last sighs. What could she +hope for if <i>he</i> were taken away? "I have renounced without difficulty +all the charms of life, preserving only my love, and the secret pleasure of +thinking incessantly of you and hearing that you live. Dear Abelard, pity +my despair! The higher you raised me above other women, who envied me your +love, the more sensible am I now of the loss of your heart. I was exalted +to the top of happiness only that I might have the more terrible fall. +Nothing could be compared to my pleasures, and now nothing can equal my +misery."</p> + +<p>She blames herself entirely for Abelard's present position. "I, wretched +I, have ruined you, and have been the cause of all your misfortunes. How +dangerous it is for a great man to suffer himself to be moved by our sex! +He ought from his infancy to be inured to insensibility of heart against +all our charms. I have long examined things, and have found that death is +less dangerous than beauty. It is the shipwreck of liberty, a fatal snare, +from which it is impossible ever to get free."</p> + +<p>She protests that she cannot forget. "Even into holy places before the +altar I carry the memory of our love; and, far from lamenting for having +been seduced by pleasures, I sigh for having lost them." She counts herself +more to be pitied than Abelard, because grace and misfortune have helped +him, whereas she has still her relentless passions to fight. "Our sex is +nothing but weakness, and I have the greater difficulty in defending +myself, because the enemy that attacks me pleases me. I doat on the danger +which threatens. How, then, can I avoid yielding? I seek not to conquer for +fear I should be overcome; happiness enough for me to escape shipwreck and +at last reach port. Heaven commands me to renounce my fatal passion for +you; but, oh! my heart will never be able to consent to it. Adieu."</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Héloïse to Abelard</i></h4> + + +<p>Abelard has not replied to this letter, and Heloise begins by +sarcastically thanking him for his neglect. She pretends to have subdued +her passion, and, addressing him rather as priest than lover, demands his +spiritual counsel. Thus caustically does she proclaim her inconstancy. "At +last, Abelard, you have lost Heloise for ever. Notwithstanding all the +oaths I made to think of nothing but you, and to be entertained by nothing +but you, I have banished you from my thoughts; I have forgot you. Thou +charming idea of a lover I once adored, thou wilt be no more my happiness! +Dear image of Abelard! thou wilt no longer follow me, no longer shall I +remember thee. Oh, enchanting pleasures to which Heloise resigned +herself--you, you have been my tormentors! I confess my inconstancy, +Abelard, without a blush; let my infidelity teach the world that there is +no depending on the promises of women--we are all subject to change. When I +tell you what Rival hath ravished my heart from you, you will praise my +inconstancy, and pray this Rival to fix it. By this you will know that 'tis +God alone that takes Heloise from you."</p> + +<p>She explains how she arrived at this decision by being brought to the +gates of death by a dangerous illness. Her passion now seemed criminal. She +has therefore torn off the bandages which blinded her, and "you are to me +no longer the loving Abelard who constantly sought private conversations +with me by deceiving the vigilance of our observers." She enlarges on her +resolution. She will "no more endeavour, by the relation of those pleasures +our passion gave us, to awaken any guilty fondness you may yet feel for me. +I demand nothing of you but spiritual advice and wholesome discipline. You +cannot now be silent without a crime. When I was possessed with so violent +a love, and pressed you so earnestly to write to me, how many letters did I +send you before I could obtain one from you?"</p> + +<p>But, alas! her woman's weakness conquers again. For the moment she +forgets her resolution, and exclaims: "My dear husband (for the last time I +use that title!), shall I never see you again? Shall I never have the +pleasure of embracing you before death? What dost thou say, wretched +Heloise? Dost thou know what thou desirest? Couldst thou behold those +brilliant eyes without recalling the tender glances which have been so +fatal to thee? Couldst thou see that majestic air of Abelard without being +jealous of everyone who beholds so attractive a man? That mouth cannot be +looked upon without desire; in short, no woman can view the person of +Abelard without danger. Ask no more to see Abelard; if the memory of him +has caused thee so much trouble, Heloise, what would not his presence do? +What desires will it not excite in thy soul? How will it be possible to +keep thy reason at the sight of so lovable a man?"</p> + +<p>She reverts to her delightful dreams about Abelard, when "you press me +to you and I yield to you, and our souls, animated with the same passion, +are sensible of the same pleasures." Then she recalls her resolution, and +closes with these words: "I begin to perceive that I take too much pleasure +in writing to you; I ought to burn this letter. It shows that I still feel +a deep passion for you, though at the beginning I tried to persuade you to +the contrary. I am sensible of waves both of grace and passion, and by +turns yield to each. Have pity, Abelard, on the condition to which you have +brought me, and make in some measure my last days as peaceful as my first +have been uneasy and disturbed."</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Abélard to Héloïse</i></h4> + + +<p>Abelard remains firm. "Write no more to me, Heloise, write no more to +me; 'tis time to end communications which make our penances of no avail," +he says. "Let us no more deceive ourselves with remembrance of our past +pleasures; we but make our lives troubled and spoil the sweets of solitude. +Let us make good use of our austerities, and no longer preserve the +memories of our crimes amongst the severities of penance. Let a +mortification of body and mind, a strict fasting, continual solitude, +profound and holy meditations, and a sincere love of God succeed our former +irregularities."</p> + +<p>Both, he deplores, are still very far from this enviable state. "Your +heart still burns with that fatal fire you cannot extinguish, and mine is +full of trouble and unrest. Think not, Heloise, that I here enjoy a perfect +peace; I will for the last time open my heart to you; I am not yet +disengaged from you, and though I fight against my excessive tenderness for +you, in spite of all my endeavours I remain but too sensible of your +sorrows, and long to share in them. The world, which is generally wrong in +its notions, thinks I am at peace, and imagining that I loved you only for +the gratification of the senses, have now forgot you. What a mistake is +this!"</p> + +<p>He exhorts her to strive, to be more firm in her resolutions, to "break +those shameful chains which bind you to the flesh." He pictures the death +of a saint and he works upon her fears by impressing upon her the terrors +of hell. His last recorded words to her are these:</p> + +<p>"I question not, Heloise, but you will hereafter apply yourself in good +earnest to the business of your salvation; this ought to be your whole +concern. Banish me, therefore, for ever from your heart--it is the best +advice I can give you, for the remembrance of a person we have loved +guiltily cannot but be hurtful, whatever advances we may have made in the +way of virtue. When you have extirpated your unhappy inclination towards +me, the practice of every virtue will become easy; and when at last your +life is conformable to that of Christ, death will be desirable to you. Your +soul will joyfully leave this body, and direct its flight to heaven. Then +you will appear with confidence before your Saviour; you will not read your +reprobation in the Judgement Book, but you will hear your Saviour say: +'Come, partake of My glory, and enjoy the eternal reward I have appointed +for those virtues you have practised.'</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Heloise, this is the last advice of your dear Abelard; for +the last time let me persuade you to follow the rules of the Gospel. Heaven +grant that your heart, once so sensible of my love, may now yield to be +directed by my zeal. May the idea of your loving Abelard, always present to +your mind, be now changed into the image of Abelard truly and sincerely +penitent; and may you shed as many tears for your salvation as you have +done for our misfortunes."</p> + +<p>Then the silence falls for ever.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="HENRI_FREDERIC_AMIEL"></a>HENRI FRÉDÉRIC +AMIEL</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Fragments_of_an_Intimate_Diary"></a>Fragments of an +Intimate Diary</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Henri Frédéric Amiel, born at Geneva on +September 21, 1821, was educated there, and later at the University of +Berlin; and held a professorship at the University of Geneva from 1849 +until his death, on March 11, 1881. The "Journal Intime," of which we give +a summary, was published in 1882-84, and an English translation by Mrs. +Humphrey Ward appeared in 1885. The book has the profound interest which +attaches to all genuine personal confessions of the interior life; but it +has the further claim to notice that it is the signal expression of the +spirit of its time, though we can no longer call it the modern spirit. The +book perfectly renders the disillusion, languor and sentimentality which +characterise a self-centred scepticism. It is the record, indeed, of a +morbid mind, but of a mind gifted with extraordinary acuteness and with the +utmost delicacy of perception. Amiel wrote also several essays and poems, +but it is for the "Intimate Diary" alone that his name will be remembered. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>Thoughts on Life and Conduct</i></h4> + + +<p>Only one thing is needful--to possess God. The senses, the powers of the +soul, and all outward resources are so many vistas opening upon Divinity, +so many ways of tasting and adoring God. To be detached from all that is +fugitive, and to seize only on the eternal and the absolute, using the rest +as no more than a loan, a tenancy! To worship, understand, receive, feel, +give, act--this is your law, your duty, your heaven!</p> + +<p>After all, there is only one object which we can study, and that is the +modes and metamorphoses of the human spirit. All other studies lead us back +to this one.</p> + +<p>I have never felt the inward assurance of genius, nor the foretaste of +celebrity, nor of happiness, nor even the prospect of being husband, +father, or respected citizen. This indifference to the future is itself a +sign; my dreams are vague, indefinite; I must not now live, because I am +now hardly capable of living. Let me control myself; let me leave life to +the living, and betake myself to my ideas; let me write the testament of my +thoughts and of my heart.</p> + + +<h4><i>Heroism and Duty</i></h4> + + +<p>Heroism is the splendid and wonderful triumph of the soul over the +flesh; that is to say, over fear--the fear of poverty, suffering, calumny, +disease, isolation and death. There is no true piety without this dazzling +concentration of courage.</p> + +<p>Duty has this great value--it makes us feel reality of the positive +world, while yet it detaches us from it.</p> + +<p>How vulnerable am I! If I were a father, what a host of sorrows a child +could bring on me! As a husband, I should suffer in a thousand ways, +because a thousand conditions are necessary to my happiness. My heart is +too sensitive, my imagination anxious, and despair is easy. The "might be" +spoils for me what is, the "should be" devours me with melancholy; and this +reality, present, irreparable, inevitable, disgusts or frightens me. So it +is that I put away the happy images of family life. Every hope is an egg +which may hatch a serpent instead of a dove; every joy that fails is a +knife-wound; every seed-time entrusted to destiny has its harvest of +pain.</p> + +<p>What is duty? Is it to obey one's nature at its best and most spiritual; +or is it to vanquish one's nature? That is the deepest question. Is life +essentially the education of the spirit and of the intelligence, or is it +the education of the will? And does will lie in power or in +resignation?</p> + +<p>Therefore are there two worlds--Christianity affords and teaches +salvation by the conversion of the will; but humanism brings salvation by +the emancipation of the spirit. The first seizes upon the heart, and the +other upon the brain. The first aims at illumining by healing, the other at +healing by illumining. Now, moral love, the first of these two principles, +places the centre of the individual in the centre of his being. For to love +is virtually to know; but to know is not virtually to love. Redemption by +knowledge or by intellectual love is inferior to redemption by the will or +by moral love. The former is critical and negative; the latter is +life-giving, fertilising, positive. Moral force is the vital point.</p> + + +<h4><i>The Era of Mediocrity</i></h4> + + +<p>The era of mediocrity in all things is beginning, and mediocrity freezes +desire. Equality engenders uniformity; and evil is got rid of by +sacrificing all that is excellent, remarkable, extraordinary. Everything +becomes less coarse but more vulgar. The epoch of great men is passing +away; the epoch of the ant-hill is upon us. The age of individualism is in +danger of having no real individuals. Things are certainly progressing, but +souls decline.</p> + +<p>The point of view of Schleiermacher's "Monologues," which is also that +of Emerson, is great indeed, but proud and egotistical, since the Self is +made the centre of the universe. It is man rejoicing in himself, taking +refuge in the inaccessible sanctuary of self-consciousness, and becoming +almost a god. It is a triumph which is not far removed from impiety; it is +a superhuman point of view which does away with humility; it is precisely +the temptation to which man first succumbed when he desired to become his +own master by becoming like the gods.</p> + +<p>We are too much encumbered with affairs, too busy, too active; we even +read too much. We must throw overboard all our cargo of anxieties, +preoccupations and pedantry to recover youth, simplicity, childhood, and +the present moment with its happy mood of gratitude. By that leisure which +is far from idleness, by an attentive and recollected inaction, the soul +loses her creases, expands, unfolds, repairs her injuries like a bruised +leaf, and becomes once more new, spontaneous, true, original Reverie, like +showers at night, refreshes the thoughts which have become worn and +discoloured by the heat of day.</p> + +<p>I have been walking in the garden in a fine autumnal rain. All the +innumerable, wonderful symbols which the forms and colours of Nature afford +charm me and catch at my heart. There is no country scene that is not a +state of the soul, and whoever will read the two together will be +astonished by their detailed similarity. Far truer is true poetry than +science; poetry seizes at first glance in her synthetic way that essential +thing which all the sciences put together can only hope to reach at the +very end.</p> + + +<h4><i>Lessons from the Greeks</i></h4> + + +<p>How much we have to learn from our immortal forefathers, the Greeks; and +how far better than we did they solve their problem! Their type was not +ours, but how much better did they revere, cultivate and ennoble the man +they knew! Beside them we are barbarians in a thousand ways, as in +education, eloquence, public life, poetry, and the like. If the number of +its accomplished men be the measure of a civilization, ours is far below +theirs. We have not slaves beneath us, but we have them among us. Barbarism +is not at our frontiers, but at our doors. We bear within us greater +things, but we ourselves are how much smaller! Strange paradox: that their +objective civilisation should have created great men as it were by +accident, while our subjective civilisation, contrary to its express +mission, turns out paltry halflings. Things are becoming majestic, but man +is diminishing.</p> + + +<h4><i>The Glory of Motherhood</i></h4> + + +<p>A mother should be to her child as the sun in the heavens, a changeless +and ever radiant star, whither the inconstant little creature, so ready +with its tears and its daughter, so light, so passionate, so stormy, may +come to calm and to fortify itself with heat and light. A mother represents +goodness, providence, law, nay, divinity itself, under the only form in +which childhood can meet with these high things. If, therefore, she is +passionate, she teaches that God is capricious or despotic, or even that +there are several gods in conflict. The child's religion depends on the way +in which its mother and its father have lived, and not on the way in which +they have spoken. The inmost tone of their life is precisely what reaches +their child, who finds no more than comedy or empty thunder in their +maxims, remonstrances and punishments. Their actual and central +worship--that is what his instinct infallibly perceives. A child sees what +we are, through all the fictions of what we would be.</p> + +<p>It is curious to see, in discussions on speculative matters, how +abstract minds, who move from ideas to facts, always do battle for concrete +reality; while concrete minds, on the other hand, who move from facts to +ideas, are usually the champions of abstract notions. The more intellectual +nature trusts to an ethical theory; the more moral nature has an +intellectualist morality.</p> + +<p>The centre of life is neither in thought, nor in feeling, nor in will; +nor even in consciousness in so far as it thinks, feels, or wills; for a +moral truth may have been penetrated and possessed in all these ways, and +yet escape us still. Far below our consciousness is our being, our +substance, our nature. Those truths alone which have entered this profound +region, and have become ourselves, and are spontaneous, involuntary, +instinctive and unconscious--only these are really our life and more than +our external possessions. Now, it is certain that we can find our peace +only in life, and, indeed, only in eternal life; and eternal life is God. +Only when the creature is one, by a unity of love, with his Creator--only +then is he what he is meant to be.</p> + + +<h4><i>The Secret of Perpetual Youth</i></h4> + + +<p>There are two degrees of pride--one, wherein a man is self-complacent; +the other, wherein he is unable to accept himself. Of these two degrees, +the second is probably the more subtle.</p> + +<p>The whole secret of remaining young in spite of years is to keep an +enthusiasm burning within, by means of poetry, contemplation and charity, +or, more briefly, by keeping a harmony in the soul. When everything is +rightly ordered within us, we may rest in equilibrium with the work of God. +A certain grave enthusiasm for the eternal beauty and order; a glowing mind +and cloudless goodwill: these are, perhaps, the foundation of wisdom. How +inexhaustible is the theme of wisdom! A peaceful aureole surrounds this +rich conception. Wisdom includes all treasures of moral experience, and is +the ripest fruit of a well-spent life. She never ages, for she is the very +expression of order, and order is eternal. Only the wise man tastes all the +savour of life and of every age, because only he can recognise their +beauty, dignity and worth. To see all things in God, to make of one's own +life a voyage to the ideal, to live with gratitude, recollection, kindness +and courage--this was the admirable spirit of Marcus Aurelius. Add to these +a kneeling humility and a devoted charity, and you have the wisdom of God's +children, the undying joy of true Christians.</p> + + +<h4><i>The Fascination of Love</i></h4> + + +<p>Woman would be loved without reason, without analysis; not because she +is beautiful, or good, or cultivated, or gracious, or spiritual, but +because she exists. Every analysis seems to her an attenuation and a +subordination of her personality to something which dominates and measures +it. She rejects it therefore, and rightly rejects it. For as soon as one +can say "because," one is no longer under the spell; one appreciates or +weighs, and at least in principle one is free. If the empire of woman is to +continue, love must remain a fascination, an enchantment; once her mystery +is gone, her power is gone also. So love must appear indivisible, +irreducible, superior to all analysis, if it is to retain those aspects of +infinitude, of the supernatural and the miraculous, which constitute its +beauty. Most people hold cheaply whatever they understand, and bow down +only before the inexplicable. Woman's triumph is to demonstrate the +obscurity of that male intelligence which thinks itself so enlightened; and +when women inspire love, they are not without the proud joy of this +triumph. Their vanity is not altogether baseless; but a profound love is a +light and a calm, a religion and a revelation, which in its turn despises +these lesser triumphs of vanity. Great souls wish nothing but the great, +and all artifices seem shamefully puerile to one immersed in the +infinite.</p> + + +<h4><i>Man's Useless Yearning</i></h4> + + +<p>Eternal effort is the note of modern morality. This painful restless +"becoming" has taken the place of harmony, equilibrium, joy, that is to +say, of "being." We are all fauns and satyrs aspiring to become angels, +ugly creatures labouring at our embellishment, monstrous chrysalids trying +to become butterflies. Our ideal is no longer the tranquil beauty of the +soul, it is the anguish of Laocoon fighting with the hydra of evil. No +longer are there happy and accomplished men; we are candidates, indeed, for +heaven, but on earth galley-slaves, and we row away our life in the +expectation of harbour. It seems possible that this perfecting of which we +are so proud is nothing else but a pretentious imperfection.</p> + +<p>The "becoming" seems rather negative than positive; it is the lessening +of evil, but is not itself the good; it is a noble discontent, but is by no +means felicity. This ceaseless pursuit of an endless end is a generous +madness, but is not reason; it is the yearning for what can never be, a +touching malady, but it is not wisdom. Yet there is none who may not +achieve harmony; and when he has it, he is within the eternal order, and +represents the divine thought at least as clearly as a flower does, or a +solar system. Harmony seeks nothing that is outside herself. She is exactly +that which she should be; she expresses goodness, order, law, truth, +honour; she transcends time and reveals the eternal.</p> + + +<h4><i>Memories of the Golden Age</i></h4> + + +<p>In the world of society one must seem to live on ambrosia and to know +none but noble thoughts. Anxiety, want, passion, simply do not exist. All +realism is suppressed as brutal. It is a world which amuses itself with the +flattering illusion that it lives above the clouds and breathes +mythological air. That is why all vehemence, the cry of Nature, all +suffering, thoughtless familiarity, and every frank sign of love shock this +delicate medium like a bombshell; they shatter this collective fabric, this +palace of clouds, this enchanted architecture, just as shrill cockcrow +scatters the fairies into hiding. These fine receptions are unconsciously a +work of art, a kind of poetry, by which cultivated society reconstructs an +idyll that is age-long dead. They are confused memories of the golden age, +or aspirations after a harmony which mundane reality has not in it to +give.</p> + + +<h4><i>Goethe Under the Lash</i></h4> + + +<p>I cannot like Goethe: he has little soul. His understanding of love, +religion, duty, patriotism, is paltry and even shocking. He lacks an ardent +generosity. A central dryness, an ill-cloaked egoism show through his +supple and rich talent. True, this selfishness of his at least respects +everyone's liberty and applauds all originality; but it helps no one, +troubles itself for no one, bears no one's burden; in a word, it lacks +charity, the great Christian virtue. To his mind perfection lies in +personal nobility, and not in love. His keynote is æsthetic and not +moral. He ignores sanctity, and has never so much as reflected on the +terrible problem of evil. He believes in the opportunity of the individual, +but neither in liberty nor in responsibility. He is a stranger to the +social and political aspirations of the multitude; he has no more thought +for the disinherited, the feeble, the oppressed, than Nature has.</p> + +<p>The profound disquiet of our era never touches Goethe; discords do not +affect the deaf. Whoso has never heard the voice of conscience, regret and +remorse, cannot even guess at the anxiety of those who have two masters, +two laws, and belong to two worlds, the world of Nature and the world of +Liberty. His choice is already made; his only world is Nature. But it is +far otherwise with humanity. For men hear indeed the prophets of Nature, +but they hear also the voice of Religion; the joy of life attracts them, +but devotion moves them also; they no longer know whether they hate or +adore the crucifix.</p> + + +<h4><i>Nothing New Under the Sun</i></h4> + + +<p>Jealousy is a terrible thing; it resembles love, but is in every way its +contrary; the jealous man desires, not the good of the loved one, but her +dependence on him and his triumph over her. Love is the forgetfulness of +Self; but jealousy is the most passionate form of egoism, the exaltation of +the despotic, vain and greedy Self, which cannot forget and subordinate +itself. The contrast is complete.</p> + +<p>The man of fifty years, contemplating the world, finds in it certainly +some new things; but a thousand times more does he find old things +furbished up, and plagiarisms and modifications rather than improvements. +Almost everything in the world is a copy of a copy, a reflection of a +reflection; and any real success or progress is as rare to-day as it has +ever been. Let us not complain of it, for only so can the world last. +Humanity advances at a very slow pace; that is why history continues. It +may be that progress fans the torch to burn away; perhaps progress +accelerates death. A society which should change rapidly would only arrive +the sooner at its catastrophe. Yes, progress must be the aroma of life, and +not its very substance.</p> + +<p>To renounce happiness and think only of duty; to enthrone conscience +where the heart has been: this willing immolation is a noble thing. Our +nature jibes at it, but the better self will submit to it. To hope for +justice is the proof of a sickly sensibility; we ought to be able to do +without justice. A virile character consists in just that independence. Let +the world think of us what it will; that is its affair, not ours. Our +business is to act as if our country were grateful, as if the world judged +in equity, as if public opinion could see the truth, as if life were just, +and as if men were good.</p> + + +<h4><i>The Only Art of Peace and Rest</i></h4> + + +<p>Few people know of our physical sufferings; our nearest and dearest have +no idea of our interviews with the king of terrors. There are thoughts for +which there is no confidant, sorrows which may not be shared. Kindness +itself leads us to hide them. One suffers alone; one dies alone; alone one +hides away in the little apartment of six boards. But we are not forbidden +to open this solitude to our God. Thus the soliloquy of anguish becomes a +dialogue of peace, reluctance becomes docility, suffocation becomes +liberty.</p> + +<p>Willing what God wills is the only art of peace and rest. It is strange +to go to bed knowing that one may not see to-morrow. I knew it well last +night; yet here I am. When one counts the future by hours, and to-night is +already the unknown, one gives up everything and just talks with oneself. I +return to my mind and to my journal, as the hare returns to its form to +die. As long as I can hold pen and have a moment of solitude I will +recollect myself before this my echo, and converse with my God. Not an +examination of conscience, not an act of contrition, not a cry of appeal. +Only an Amen of submission ... "My child, give Me your heart."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ST_AUGUSTINE"></a>ST. AUGUSTINE</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Confessions"></a>Confessions</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Aurelius Augustine was born at Tagaste, a city of Numidia, +on November 13, 354. This greatest of the Latin Christian Fathers was the +son of a magistrate named Patricius, who was a pagan till near the close of +his life. Augustine was sent to school at Madaura, and next to study at +Carthage. His mother, Monica, early became an ardent Christian, and her +saintly influence guided the youth towards the light; but entanglement in +philosophic doubts constrained him to associate with the Manichæans, +and then with the Platonists. His mental struggles lasted eleven years. +Going to Rome to teach rhetoric, he was invited to Milan to lecture, and +there was attracted by the eloquent preaching of Bishop Ambrose. His whole +current of thought was changed, and the two became ardent friends. In 391, +Augustine was ordained priest by Valerius, Bishop of Hippo, whose colleague +he was appointed in 395. At the age of 41, he was designated Bishop of +Hippo, and filled the office for 35 years, passing away in his 76th year, +on August 28, 430, during the third year of the siege of Hippo by the +Vandals under Genseric. His numerous and remarkable works stamp him as one +of the world's transcendent intellects. His two monumental treatises are +the "Confessions" and "The City of God." </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Regrets of a Mis-spent Youth</i></h4> + + +<p>"Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised." My faith, Lord, +should call on Thee, which Thou hast given me by the incarnation of Thy +Son, through the ministry of the preacher, Ambrose. How shall I call upon +my God? What room is there within me, wherein my God can come? Narrow is +the house of my soul; enlarge Thou it, that it may be able to receive Thee. +Thou madest us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in +Thee.</p> + +<p>I began, as yet a boy, to pray to Thee, that I might not be beaten at +school; but I sinned in disobeying the commands of parents and teachers +through love of play, delighting in the pride of victory in my contests. I +loved not study, and hated to be forced to it. Unless forced, I did not +learn at all. But no one does well against his will, even though what he +does is good. But what was well came to me from Thee, my God, for Thou hast +decreed that every inordinate affection should carry with it its own +punishment.</p> + +<p>But why did I so much hate the Greek which I was taught as a boy? I do +not yet fully know. For the Latin I loved; not what my first masters, but +what the so-called grammarians taught me. For those first lessons--reading, +writing, and arithmetic--I thought as great a burden and as vexatious as +any Greek. But in the other lessons I learned the wanderings of +Æneas, forgetful of my own, and wept for the dead Dido because she +killed herself for love; while, with dry eyes, I endured my miserable +self-dying among these things, far from Thee, my God, my life.</p> + +<p>Why, then, did I hate the Greek classics, full of like fictions to those +in Virgil? For Homer also curiously wove similar stories, and is most +pleasant, yet was disagreeable to my boyish taste. In truth, the difficulty +of a foreign tongue dashed as with gall all the sweetness of the Greek +fable. For not one word of it did I understand, and to make me learn I was +urged vehemently with cruel threats and stripes. Yet I learned with delight +the fictions in Latin concerning the wicked doings of Jove and Juno, and +for this I was pronounced a helpful boy, being applauded above many of my +own age and class.</p> + +<p>I will now call to mind my past uncleanness and the carnal corruptions +of my soul; not because I love them, but that I may love Thee, O my God. +What was it that I delighted in, but to love and to be loved? But I kept +not the measure of love of soul to soul, friendship's bright boundary, for +I could not discern the brightness of love from the fog of lust. Where was +I, and how far was I exiled from the delights of Thy house, in that +sixteenth year of my age, when the madness of licence took the rule over +me? My friends, meanwhile, took no care by marriage to prevent my fall; +their only care was that I should learn to speak excellently, and become a +great orator. Now, for that year my studies were intermitted; whilst, after +my return from Madaura--a neighbouring city whither I had journeyed to +learn grammar and rhetoric--the expenses for a further journey to Carthage +were provided for me; and that rather by sacrifice than by the ordinary +means of my father, who was but a poor citizen of Tagaste. But yet this +same father had no concern how I grew towards Thee; or how chaste I were; +or, so that I were but eloquent, how barren I were to Thy culture, O +God.</p> + +<p>But while in that my sixteenth year I lived with my parents, the briers +of unclean desires grew rank over my head, and there was no hand to root +them out. My father rejoiced to see me growing towards manhood, but in my +mother's breast Thou hadst already begun Thy temple, whereas my father was +as yet but a catechumen, and that but recently. I remember how she, seized +with a holy fear and trembling, in private warned me with great anxiety +against fornication. These seemed to me womanish advices which I should +blush to obey. But they were Thine, and I knew it not. I ran headlong with +such blindness that amongst my equals I was ashamed of being less shameless +than others when I heard them boast of their wickedness. I would even say I +had done what I had not done that I might not seem contemptible exactly in +proportion as I was innocent.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Monica's Prayers and Augustine's Paganism</i></h4> + + +<p>To Carthage I came, where there sang in my ears a cauldron of unholy +loves. I denied the spring of friendship with the filth of concupiscence, +and I beclouded its brightness with the hell of lust.</p> + +<p>Stage plays always carried me away, full of images of my miseries and of +fuel to my fire. In the theatres I rejoiced with lovers, when they +succeeded in their criminal intrigues, imaginary only in the play; and when +they lost one another I sorrowed with them. Those studies also which were +accounted commendable, led me away, having a view of excelling in the +courts of litigation, where I should be the more praised the craftier I +became. And now I was the head scholar in the rhetoric school, whereat I +swelled with conceit. I learned books of eloquence, wherein I desired to be +eminent. In the course of study I fell upon a certain book of Cicero which +contains an exhortation to philosophy, and is called "Hortensius." This +book changed my disposition, and turned my prayers to Thyself, O Lord. I +longed with an incredible ardour for the immortality of wisdom, and began +now to arise a wish that I might return to Thee. I resolved then to turn my +mind to the Holy Scriptures, to see what they were; but when I turned to +them my pride shrank from their humility, disdaining to be one of the +little ones.</p> + +<p>Therefore, I fell among men proudly doting, exceeding carnal, and great +talkers, who served up to me, when hungering after Thee, the Sun and Moon, +beautiful works of Thine, but not Thyself. Yet, taking these glittering +phantasies to be Thee, I fed thereon, but was not nourished by them, but +rather became more empty. I knew not God to be a Spirit. Nor knew I that +true inward righteousness, which judgeth not according to custom, but out +of the most righteous laws of Almighty God. Under the influence of these +Manichæans I scoffed at Thy holy servants and prophets. And Thou +"sentest Thine hand from above," and deliveredst my soul from that profound +darkness. My mother, Thy faithful one, wept to Thee for me, for she +discerned the death wherein I lay, and Thou heardest her, O Lord. Thou +gavest her answers first in visions. There passed yet nine years in which I +wallowed in the mire of that deep pit and the darkness of error. Thou +gavest her meantime another answer by a priest of Thine, a certain bishop +brought up in Thy Church, and well studied in books, whom she entreated to +converse with me and to refute my errors. He answered that I was as yet +unteachable, being puffed up with the novelty of that heresy. "But let him +alone awhile," saith he; "only pray to God for him, he will of himself, by +reading, find what that error is, and how great its impiety." He told her +how he himself, when a little one, had by his mother been consigned over to +the Manichæans, but had found out how much that sect was to be +abhorred, and had, therefore, avoided it. But he assured her that the child +of such tears as hers could not perish. Which answer she took as an oracle +from heaven.</p> + +<p>Thus, from my nineteenth year to my twenty-eighth we lived, hunting +after popular applause and poetic prizes, and secretly following a false +religion. In those years I taught rhetoric, and in those years I had +conversation with one--not in that which is called lawful marriage--yet +with but one, remaining faithful even unto her. Those impostors whom they +style astrologers I consulted without scruple. In those years, when I first +began to teach rhetoric in my native town, I had made one my friend, only +too dear to me from a community of studies and pursuits, of my own age, +and, as myself, in the first bloom of youth. I had perverted him also to +those superstitions and pernicious fables for which my mother bewailed me. +With me he now erred in mind, nor could my soul be happy without him But +behold Thou wert close on the steps of Thy fugitives, at once "God of +Vengeance" and Fountain of Mercies, turning us to Thyself by wonderful +means. Thou tookest that man out of this life, when he had scarce filled up +one whole year of my friendship, sweet to me above all sweetness of that my +life. For long, sore sick of a fever, he lay senseless in a death-sweat; so +that, his recovery being despaired of, he was baptised in that condition. +He was relieved and restored, and I essayed to jest with him, expecting him +to do the same, at that baptism which he had received when in the swoon. +But he shrank from me as from an enemy, and forbade such language. A few +days afterwards he was happily taken from my folly, that with Thee he might +be preserved for my comfort. In my absence he was attacked again by the +fever, and so died. At this grief my heart was utterly darkened. My native +country was a torment, and my father's house a strange unhappiness to me. +At length I fled out of the country, for so my eyes missed him less where +they were wont to see him. And thus from Tagaste I came to Carthage.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Influence of St. Ambrose on Augustine's Life</i></h4> + + +<p>I would lay open before my God that nine and twentieth year of my age. +There had then come to Carthage a certain Bishop of the Manichæans, +Faustus by name, a great snare of the Devil, and many were entangled by him +through the smooth lure of his language. Because he had read some of +Cicero's orations and a few of Seneca's books, some of the poets, and such +volumes of his own sect as were written in good Latin, he acquired a +certain seductive eloquence. But it soon became clear that he was ignorant +in those arts in which I thought he excelled, and I began to despair of his +solving the difficulties which perplexed me. He was sensible of his +ignorance in these things, and confessed it, and thus my zeal for the +writings of the Manichæans was blunted. Thus Faustus, to so many a +snare of death, had now, neither willing nor witting it, begun to loosen +that wherein I was taken. Thou didst deal with me that I should be +persuaded to go to Rome and to teach there rather what I was teaching at +Carthage, my chief and only reason being that I heard that young men +studied there more peacefully, and were kept under a more regular +discipline. My mother remained behind weeping and praying. And, behold, at +Rome I was received by the scourge of bodily sickness, and I was going down +to hell, carrying all the sins that I had committed. Thou healdest me of +that sickness that I might live for Thee to bestow upon me a better and +more abiding health. I began then diligently to teach rhetoric in Rome +when, lo! I found other offences committed in that city, to which I had not +been exposed in Africa, for, on a sudden, a number of youths plot together +to avoid paying their master's salary, and remove to another school. When, +therefore, they of Milan had sent to Rome to the prefect of the city, to +furnish them with a rhetoric reader for their city, I made application that +Symmachus, then prefect of the city, would try me by setting me some +subject for oration, and so send me. Thus to Milan I came, to Ambrose the +bishop, best known to the whole world as among the best of men, Thy +servant. To him I was unknowingly led by Thee, that by him I might +knowingly be led to Thee. That man of God received me as a father, and +showed me an episcopal kindness at my coming. Thenceforth I began to love +him. I was delighted with his eloquence as he preached to the people, +though I took no pains to learn what he taught, but only to hear how he +spake.</p> + +<p>My mother had now come to me. When I had discovered to her that I was +now no longer a Manichaean, though not yet a Catholic Christian, she was +not overjoyed as at something unexpected. But she redoubled her prayers and +tears for me now that what she had begged of Thee daily with tears was in +so great part realised; and she hurried the more eagerly to the church, and +hung on the lips of Ambrose, whom she loved as "an angel of God," because +she knew that by him I had been brought to that wavering I was now in. I +heard him every Lord's Day expound the word of truth, and was sure that all +the knots of the Manichæans could be unravelled. So I was confounded +and converted. Yet I panted after honours, gains, marriage--and in these +desires I underwent most bitter crosses.</p> + +<p>One day, when I was preparing to recite a panegyric on the Emperor +[probably the Emperor Valentinian the Younger], wherein I was to utter many +a lie, and, lying, was to be applauded by those who knew I lied, while +passing through the streets of Milan, I observed a poor beggar joking and +joyous. I sighed, and spoke to the friends around me of the many sorrows of +the phantoms we pursued--for by all our effort and toil we yet looked to +arrive only at the very joyousness whither that beggar had arrived before +us. I was racked with cares, but he, by saying "God bless you!" had got +some good wine; I, by talking lies, was hunting after empty praise. Chiefly +did I speak of such things with Alypius and Bebridius, of whom Alypius was +born in the same town with me, and had studied under me, and loved me. But +the whirlpool of Carthaginian habits had, when he lived there, drawn him +into follies of the circus. One day as I sat teaching my scholars, he +entered and listened attentively, while I by chance had in hand a passage +which, while I was explaining, suggested to me a simile from the circensian +races, not without a jibe at those who were enthralled by that folly. +Alpius took it wholly to himself, and he returned no more to the filths of +the circensian pastimes in Carthage. But he had gone before me to Rome, and +there he was carried away with an incredible eagerness after the shows of +gladiators. Him I found at Rome, and he clave to me and went with me to +Milan, that he might be with me, and also practise something of the law +that he had studied. Bebridius also left Carthage, that with me he might +continue the search after truth.</p> + +<p>Meantime my sins were being multiplied. Continual effort was made to +have me married, chiefly through my mother's pains, that so once married, +the health-giving baptism might cleanse me. My concubine being torn from my +side as a hindrance to my marriage, my heart, which clave unto her, was +torn and wounded; and she returned to Africa, leaving with me my son by +her. But, unhappy, I procured another, though no wife.</p> + +<p>To Thee be praise, Fountain of Mercies! I was becoming more miserable, +and Thou drewest nearer to me in my misery!</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Birth of a New Life</i></h4> + + +<p>My evil and abominable youth was now dead. I was passing into early +manhood. Meeting with certain books of the Platonists, translated from +Greek into Latin, I therein read, not in the same words, but to the same +purpose, that "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, +and the Word was God." But that "the Word was made flesh and dwelt among +us" I read not there. That Jesus humbled Himself to the death of the Cross, +and was raised from the dead and exalted unto glory, that at His name every +knee should bow, I read not there.</p> + +<p>Then I sought a way of obtaining strength, and found it not until I +embraced "that Mediator between God and Man, the Man Christ Jesus." Eagerly +did I seize that venerable writing of Thy Spirit, and chiefly the Apostle +Paul. Whereupon those difficulties vanished wherein he formerly seemed to +me to contradict himself and the text of his discourse not to agree with +the testimonies of the Law and the Prophets. But now they appeared to me to +contain one pure and uniform doctrine; and I learned to "rejoice with +trembling."</p> + +<p>I had now found the goodly pearl, which, selling all I had, I ought to +have bought, and I hesitated. To Simplicianus [sent from Rome to be an +instructor and director to Ambrose], then I went, the spiritual father of +Ambrose and now a bishop, to whom I related the mazes of my wanderings. He +testified his joy that I had read certain books of the Platonists and had +not fallen on the writings of other deceitful philosophers. And he related +to me the story of the conversion of Victorianus, the translator of those +Platonist books, who was not ashamed to become the humble little child of +Thy Christ, after he had for years with thundering eloquence inspired the +people with the love of Anubis, the barking deity, and all the monster gods +who fought against Neptune, Venus and Minerva, so that Rome now adored the +deities she had formerly conquered. But this proud worshipper of daemons +suddenly and unexpectedly said to Simplicianus, "Get us to the Church; I +wish to be made a Christian." And he was baptised to the wonder of Rome and +the joy of the Church. I was fired by this story and longed now to devote +myself entirely to God, but still did my two wills, one new and the other +old, one carnal and the other spiritual, struggle within me; and by their +discord undid my soul.</p> + +<p>And now Thou didst deliver me out of the bonds of desire, wherewith I +was bound most straitly to carnal concupiscence, I will now declare and +confess. Upon a day there came to see me and Alpius one Pontitianus, an +African fellow-countryman, in high office at the Emperor's court, who was a +Christian and baptised. He told us how one afternoon at Trier, when the +Emperor was taken up with the circensian games, he and three companions +went to walk in gardens near the city walls and lighten on a certain +cottage, inhabited by certain of Thy servants, and there they found a +little book containing the life of Antony. This some of them began to read +and admire; and he, as he read, began to meditate on taking up such a life. +By that book he was changed inwardly, as was one of his companions also. +Both had affianced brides, who, when they heard of this change, also +dedicated their virginity to God.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--God's Command to Augustine and the Death of Monica</i></h4> + + +<p>After much soul-sickness and torment of spirit took place an incident by +which Thou didst wholly break my chains. I was bewailing and weeping in my +heart, when, lo! I heard from a neighbouring house a voice as of a boy or +girl, I know not what, chanting, and oft repeating "Tolle, lege; tolle, +lege" ["Take up and read; take up and read"]. Instantly I rose up, +interpreting it to be no other than the voice of God, to open the Book and +read the first chapter I should find. Eagerly I seized the volume of the +apostle and opened and read that section on which my eyes fell first: "Not +in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife +and envying; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for +the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof." No further would I read, nor +needed I, for a light as it were of serenity diffused in my heart, and all +the darkness of doubt vanished away.</p> + +<p>When shall I recall all that passed in those holy days? The +vintage-vacation I gave notice to the Milanese to provide their scholars +with another master to sell words to them; for I had made my choice to +serve Thee. It pleased Alypius also, when the time was come for my baptism, +to be born again with me in Thee. We joined with us the boy Adeodatus, born +of me, in my sin. Excellently hadst Thou made him. He was not quite +fifteen, and in wit surpassed many grave and learned men. We were baptised, +and anxiety for our past life vanished from us.</p> + +<p>The time was now approaching when Thy handmaid, my mother Monica, was to +depart this life. She fell sick of a fever, and on the ninth day of that +sickness, and the fifty-sixth year of her age, and the three and thirtieth +of mine, was that religious and holy soul set free from the body. Being +thus forsaken of so great comfort in her, my soul was wounded. Little by +little the wound was healed as I recovered my former thoughts of her holy +conversation towards Thee and her holy tenderness and observance towards +us. May she rest in peace with her sometime husband Patricius, whom she +obeyed, "with patience bringing forth fruit" unto Thee, that she might win +him also unto Thee.</p> + +<p>This is the object of my confessions now of what I am, not of what I +have been--to confess this not before Thee only, but in the ears also of +the believing sons of men. Too late I loved Thee! Thou wast with me, but I +was not with Thee. And now my whole hope is in nothing but Thy great mercy. +Since Thou gavest me continency I have observed it; but I retain the memory +of evil habits, and their images come up oft before me. And Thou hast +taught me concerning eating and drinking, that I should set myself to take +food as medicine. I strive daily against concupiscence in eating and +drinking. Thou hast disentangled me from the delights of the ear and from +the lusts of the eye. Into many snares of the senses my mind wanders +miserably, but Thou pluckest me out mercifully. By pride, vainglory, and +love of praise I am tempted, but I seek Thy mercy till what is lacking in +me by Thee be renewed and perfected. Thou knowest my unskillfulness; teach +me the wondrous things out of Thy law and heal me.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="JAMES_BOSWELL"></a>JAMES BOSWELL</h2> + + +<h3><a name="The_Life_of_Samuel_Johnson_LLD"></a>The Life of Samuel +Johnson, LL.D.</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> James Boswell, born on October 18, 1740, was the son of +Alexander Boswell of Auchinleck, better known as Lord Auchinleck, one of +the senators of the College of Justice, or Supreme Court, of Scotland. +Boswell was educated at Edinburgh and Utrecht universities, and was called +both to the Scots and the English Bar. He was early interested in letters, +and while still a student, published some poems and magazine articles. +Boswell was introduced to Dr. Johnson on May 16, 1763. The friendship +rapidly ripened, and from 1772 to the death of the illustrious moralist, +was unbroken. As an introduction to "The Life of Samuel Johnson, +LL.D."--perhaps the greatest of all biographies--we can hardly do better +than use the words of the biographer himself. "To write the life of him who +excelled all mankind in writing the lives of others, and who, whether we +consider his extraordinary endowments or his various works, has been +equalled by few in any age, is an arduous, and may be reckoned in me a +presumptuous, task. But as I had the honour and happiness of enjoying Dr. +Johnson's friendship for upwards of twenty years; as I had the scheme of +writing his life constantly in view; as he was well apprised of this +circumstance, and from time to time obligingly satisfied my inquiries by +communicating to me the incidents of his early years; and as I have spared +no pains in obtaining materials concerning him, I flatter myself that few +biographers have entered upon such a work as this with more advantages, +independent of literary abilities, in which I am not vain enough to compare +myself with some great names who have gone before me in this kind of +writing." The "Life" was a signal success at the time of its publication, +and even yet is unrivalled in the field of biography. Boswell latterly +resided permanently in London, and was proprietor of, and principal +contributor to, the "London Magazine". He died in his house in Great +Portland Street on May 19, 1795. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Parentage and Education</i></h4> + + +<p>Samuel Johnson was born at Lichfield, in Staffordshire, on September +18,1709, and was baptised on the day of his birth. His father was Michael +Johnson, a native of Derbyshire, of obscure extraction, who settled in +Lichfield as a bookseller and stationer. His mother was Sarah Ford, +descended of an ancient race of substantial yeomanry in Warwickshire. They +were well advanced in years when they were married, and never had more than +two children, both sons--Samuel, their first born, whose various +excellences I am to endeavour to record, and Nathaniel, who died in his +twenty-fifth year.</p> + +<p>Mr. Michael Johnson was a man of a large and robust body, and of a +strong and active mind; yet there was in him a mixture of that disease the +nature of which eludes the most minute inquiry, though the effects are well +known to be a weariness of life, an unconcern about those things which +agitate the greater part of mankind, and a general sensation of gloomy +wretchedness. From him, then, his son inherited, with some other qualities, +"a vile melancholy," which, in his too strong expression of any disturbance +of the mind, "made him mad all his life--at least, not sober." Old Mr. +Johnson was a pretty good Latin scholar, and a citizen so creditable as to +be made one of the magistrates of Lichfield; and, being a man of good sense +and skill in his trade, he acquired a reasonable share of wealth, of which, +however, he afterwards lost the greatest part, by engaging unsuccessfully +in a manufacture of parchment.</p> + +<p>Young Johnson had the misfortune to be much afflicted with the scrofula, +or king's evil, which disfigured a countenance naturally well formed, and +hurt his visual nerves so much that he did not see at all with one of his +eyes, though its appearance was little different from that of the other. +Yet, when he and I were travelling in the Highlands of Scotland, and I +pointed out to him a mountain, which, I observed, resembled a cone, he +corrected my inaccuracy by showing me that it was indeed pointed at the +top, but that one side of it was larger than the other. And the ladies with +whom he was acquainted agree that no man was more nicely and minutely +critical in the elegance of female dress.</p> + +<p>He was first taught to read English by Dame Oliver, a widow, who kept a +school for young children in Lichfield. He began to learn Latin with Mr. +Hawkins, usher, or under-master, of Lichfield School. Then he rose to be +under the care of Mr. Hunter, the head-master, who, according to his +account "was very severe, and wrong-headedly severe. He used," said he, "to +beat us unmercifully, and he did not distinguish between ignorance and +negligence." Yet Johnson was very sensible how much he owed to Mr. Hunter. +Mr. Langton one day asked him how he had acquired so accurate a knowledge +of Latin, in which, I believe, he was exceeded by no man of his time. He +said, "My master whipped me very well. Without that, sir, I should have +done nothing." Indeed, upon all occasions, he expressed his approbation of +enforcing instruction by means of the rod. "The rod," said he, "produces an +effect which terminates in itself. A child is afraid of being whipped, and +gets his task, and there's an end on't; whereas, by exciting emulation and +comparisons of superiority, you lay the foundation of lasting +mischief."</p> + +<p>From his earliest years Johnson's superiority was perceived and +acknowledged. He was from the beginning a king of men. His schoolfellow, +Mr. Hector, has assured me that he never knew him corrected at school but +for talking and diverting other boys from their business. He seemed to +learn by intuition; for though indolence and procrastination were inherent +in his constitution, whenever he made an exertion he did more than anyone +else. He was uncommonly inquisitive; and his memory was so tenacious that +he never forgot anything that he either heard or read. Mr. Hector remembers +having recited to him eighteen verses, which, after a little pause, he +repeated <i>verbatim</i>.</p> + +<p>He never joined with the other boys in their ordinary diversions, for +his defective sight prevented him from enjoying them; and he once +pleasantly remarked to me "how wonderfully well he had contrived to be idle +without them." Of this inertness of disposition Johnson had all his life +too great a share.</p> + +<p>After having resided for some time at the house of his uncle, Cornelius +Ford, Johnson was, at the age of fifteen, removed to the school of +Stourbridge, in Worcestershire, of which Mr. Wentworth was then master. At +this school he did not receive so much benefit as was expected, and +remaining there little more than a year, returned home, where he may be +said to have loitered for two years. He had no settled plan of life, and +though he read a great deal in a desultory manner, he read only as chance +and inclination directed him. "What I read," he told me, "were not voyages +and travels, but all literature, sir, all ancient writers, all manly; +though but little Greek, only some of Anacreon and Hesiod. But in this +irregular manner I had looked into many books which were not known at the +universities, where they seldom read any books but what are put into their +hands by their tutors; so that when I came to Oxford, Dr. Adams, now Master +of Pembroke College, told me I was the best qualified for the university +that he had ever known come there."</p> + + +<h4><i>II--Marriage and Settlement in London</i></h4> + + +<p>Compelled by his father's straitened circumstances, Johnson left +Pembroke College in the autumn of 1731, without taking a degree, having +been a member of it little more than three years. In December of this year +his father died.</p> + +<p>In this forlorn state of his circumstances, he accepted an offer to be +employed as usher in the school of Market Bosworth, in Leicestershire. But +he was strongly averse to the painful drudgery of teaching, and, having +quarrelled with Sir Wolstan Dixie, the patron of the school, he +relinquished after a few months a situation which all his life afterwards +he recollected with the strongest aversion and even a degree of horror. +Among the acquaintances he made at this period was Mr. Porter, a mercer at +Birmingham, whose widow he afterwards married. In what manner he employed +his pen in 1733 I have not been able to ascertain. He probably got a little +money for occasional work, and it is certain that he was occupied about +this time in the translation of Lobo's "Voyage to Abyssinia," which was +published in 1735, and brought him five guineas from this same bookseller. +It is reasonable to suppose that his rendering of Lobo's work was the +remote occasion of his writing, many years after, his admirable +philosophical tale, "Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia."</p> + +<p>Miss Porter told me that when Mr. Johnson was first introduced to her +mother his appearance was very forbidding; he was then lean and lank, so +that his immense structure of bones was hideously striking to the eye, and +the scars of the scrofula were deeply visible. He also wore his hair, which +was straight and stiff, and separated behind; and he often had, seemingly, +convulsive starts and odd gesticulations, which tended to excite at once +surprise and ridicule. Mrs. Porter was so much engaged by his conversation +that she overlooked all these external disadvantages, and said to her +daughter, "This is the most sensible man that I ever saw in my life."</p> + +<p>Though Mrs. Porter, now a widow, was double the age of Johnson, and her +person and manner, as described to me by the late Mr. Garrick, were by no +means pleasing to others, she must have had a superiority of understanding +and talents, as she certainly inspired him with a more than ordinary +passion. The marriage took place at Derby, on July 9, 1736.</p> + +<p>He now set up a private academy, for which purpose he hired a large +house well situated near his native city. In the "Gentleman's Magazine" for +1736 there is the following advertisement:</p> + +<p>"At Edial, near Lichfield, in Staffordshire, young gentlemen are boarded +and taught the Latin and Greek languages, by SAMUEL JOHNSON."</p> + +<p>But the only pupils that were put under his care were the celebrated +David Garrick and his brother George, and a Mr. Offely, a young gentleman +of fortune, who died early.</p> + +<p>Johnson, indeed, was not more satisfied with his situation as the master +of an academy than with that of the usher of a school; we need not wonder, +therefore, that he did not keep his academy more than a year and a half. +From Mr. Garrick's account he did not appear to have been profoundly +reverenced by his pupils. His oddities of manner and uncouth gesticulations +could not but be the subject of merriment to them; and in particular, the +young rogues used to turn into ridicule his awkward fondness for Mrs. +Johnson, whom he used to name by the familiar appellation of Tetty or +Tetsey, which, like Betty or Betsey, is provincially used as a contraction +for Elizabeth, her Christian name, but which to us seems ludicrous when +applied to a woman of her age and appearance. Mr. Garrick described her to +me as very fat, with swelled cheeks of a florid red produced by thick +painting, and increased by the liberal use of cordials; flaring and +fantastic in her dress, and affected both in her speech and her general +behaviour.</p> + +<p>While Johnson kept his academy, I have not discovered that he wrote +anything except a great portion of his tragedy of "Irene." When he had +finished some part of it, he read what he had done to his friend, Mr. +Gilbert Walmsley, Registrar of the Prerogative Court of Lichfield, who was +so well pleased with this proof of Johnson's abilities as a dramatic writer +that he advised him to finish the tragedy and produce it on the stage. +Accordingly, Johnson and his friend and pupil, David Garrick, went to try +their fortunes in London in 1737, the former with the hopes of getting work +as a translator and of turning out a fine tragedy-writer, the latter with +the intention of completing his education, and of following the profession +of the law. How, indeed, Johnson employed himself upon his first coming to +London is not particularly known. His tragedy, of which he had entertained +such hopes, was submitted to Mr. Fleetwood, the patentee of Drury Lane +Theatre, and rejected.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Poverty Stricken in London</i></h4> + + +<p>Johnson's first performance in the "Gentleman's Magazine," which for +many years was his principal source of employment and support, was a copy +of Latin verses, in March, 1738, addressed to the editor. He was now +enlisted by Mr. Cave, as a regular coadjutor in his magazine, by which he +probably obtained a tolerable livelihood. What we certainly know to have +been done by him in this way were the debates in both Houses of Parliament, +under the name of "The Senate of Lilliput."</p> + +<p>Thus was Johnson employed during some of the best years of his life, +solely to obtain an honest support. But what first displayed his +transcendent powers, and "gave the world assurance of the Man," was his +"London, a Poem in Imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal," which came +out in May this year (1738), and burst forth with a splendour the rays of +which will forever encircle his name.</p> + +<p>But though thus elevated into fame, Johnson could not expect to produce +many such works as his "London," and he felt the hardships of writing for +bread. He was therefore willing to resume the office of a schoolmaster, +and, an offer being made to him of the mastership of a school, provided he +could obtain the degree of Master of Arts, Dr. Adams was applied to by a +common friend to know whether that could be granted to him as a favour from +the university of Oxford. But it was then thought too great a favour to be +asked.</p> + +<p>During the next five years, 1739-1743, Johnson wrote largely for the +"Gentleman's Magazine," and supplied the account of the Parliamentary +Debates from November 19, 1740, to February 23, 1743, inclusive. It does +not appear that he wrote anything of importance for the magazine in 1744. +But he produced one work this year, fully sufficient to maintain the high +reputation which he had acquired. This was "The Life of Richard Savage," a +man of whom it is difficult to speak impartially without wondering that he +was for some time the intimate companion of Johnson; for his character was +marked by profligacy, insolence, and ingratitude; yet, as he undoubtedly +had a warm and vigorous, though unregulated mind, had seen life in all its +varieties, and been much in the company of the statesmen and wits of his +time, he could communicate to Johnson an abundant supply of such materials +as his philosophical curiosity most eagerly desired; and so his visits to +St. John's Gate--the office of the "Gentleman's Magazine"--naturally +brought Johnson and him together.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Preparation of the "Dictionary"</i></h4> + + +<p>It is somewhat curious that Johnson's literary career appears to have +been almost totally suspended in 1745 and 1746. But the year 1747 is +distinguished as the epoch when Johnson's arduous and important work, his +"Dictionary of the English Language," was announced to the world, by the +publication of its "Plan or Prospectus."</p> + +<p>The booksellers who contracted with Johnson, single and unaided, for the +execution of a work which in other countries has not been effected but by +the co-operating exertions of many, were Mr. Robert Dodsley, Mr. Charles +Hitch, Mr. Andrew Millar, the two Messieurs Longman, and the two Messieurs +Knapton. The price stipulated was fifteen hundred and seventy-five pounds. +The "Plan" was addressed to Philip Dormer, Earl of Chesterfield, then one +of his majesty's principal secretaries of state, a nobleman who was very +ambitious of literary distinction, and who, upon being informed of the +design, had expressed himself in terms very favourable to its success. The +plan had been put before him in manuscript For the mechanical part of the +work Johnson employed, as he told me, six amanuenses.</p> + +<p>In the "Gentleman's Magazine" for May, 1748, he-wrote a "Life of +Roscommon," with notes, which he afterwards much improved and inserted +amongst his "Lives of the English Poets." And this same year he formed a +club in Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row, with a view to enjoy literary +discussion.</p> + +<p>In January, 1749, he published "Vanity of Human Wishes, being the Tenth +Satire of Juvenal Imitated"; and on February 6 Garrick brought out his +tragedy at Drury Lane. Dr. Adams was present at the first night of the +representation of "Irene," and gave me the following account. "Before the +curtain drew up, there were catcalls and whistling, which alarmed Johnson's +friends. The prologue, which was 'written by himself in a manly strain, +soothed the audience, and the play went off tolerably till it came to the +conclusion, when Mrs. Pritchard, the heroine of the piece, was to be +strangled on the stage, and was to speak two lines with the bow-string +around her neck. The audience cried out 'Murder! Murder!' She several times +attempted to speak, but in vain. At last she was obliged to go off the +stage alive." This passage was afterwards struck out, and she was carried +off to be put to death behind the scenes, as the play now has it.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding all the support of such performers as Garrick, Barry, +Mrs. Pritchard, and every advantage of dress and decoration, the tragedy of +"Irene" did not please the public. Mr. Garrick's zeal carried it through +for nine nights, so that the author had his three nights' profit; and from +a receipt signed by him it appears that his friend Mr. Robert Dodsley gave +him one hundred pounds for the copy, with his usual reservation of the +right of one edition.</p> + +<p>On occasion of his play being brought upon the stage, Johnson had a +fancy that as a dramatic author his dress should be more gay than he +ordinarily wore; he therefore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one +of the side boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace and a gold +laced hat. His necessary attendance while his play was in rehearsal, and +during its performance, brought him acquainted with many of the performers +of both sexes, which produced a more favourable opinion of their profession +than he had harshly expressed in his "Life of Savage." With some of them he +kept up an acquaintance as long as he and they lived, and was ever ready to +show them acts of kindness. He for a considerable time used to visit the +green room, and seemed to take delight in dissipating his gloom by mixing +in the sprightly chit-chat of the motley circle then to be found there. But +at last--as Mr. David Hume related to me from Mr. Garrick--he denied +himself this amusement from considerations of rigid virtue.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--"The Rambler" and New Acquaintance</i></h4> + + +<p>In 1750 Johnson came forth in the character for which he was eminently +qualified, a majestic teacher of moral and religious wisdom. The vehicle he +chose was that of a periodical paper, which he knew had, upon former +occasions--those of the "Tattler," "Spectator," and "Guardian"--been +employed with great success.</p> + +<p>The first paper of "The Rambler" was published on Tuesday, March 20, +1750, and its author was enabled to continue it without interruption, every +Tuesday and Friday, till Saturday, March 17, 1752, on which day it closed. +During all this time he received assistance on four occasions only.</p> + +<p>Posterity will be astonished when they are told, upon the authority of +Johnson himself, that many of these discourses, which we should suppose had +been laboured with all the slow attention of literary leisure, were written +in haste as the moments pressed, without even being read over by him before +they were printed. Such was his peculiar promptitude of mind. He was wont +to say, "A man may write at any time if he will set himself doggedly to +it."</p> + +<p>Though Johnson's circumstances were at this time--1751--far from being +easy, his humane and charitable disposition was constantly exerting itself. +Mrs. Anna Williams, daughter of a very ingenious Welsh physician, and a +woman of more than ordinary talents in literature, having come to London in +hopes of being cured of a cataract in both her eyes, which afterwards ended +in total blindness, was kindly received as a constant visitor at his house +while Mrs. Johnson lived; and after her death, having come under his roof +in order to have an operation upon her eyes performed with more comfort to +her than in lodgings, she had an apartment from him until the rest of her +life at all times when he had a house.</p> + +<p>In 1752 he wrote the last papers of "The Rambler," but he was now mainly +occupied with his "Dictionary." This year, soon after closing his +periodical paper, he suffered a loss which affected him with the deepest +distress. For on March 17 his wife died. That his sufferings upon her death +were severe, beyond what are commonly endured, I have no doubt, from the +information of many who were then about him.</p> + +<p>The circle of Johnson's friends, indeed, at this time was extensive and +various, far beyond what has been generally imagined. To trace his +acquaintance with each particular person were unprofitable. But exceptions +are to be made, one of which must be a friend so eminent as Sir Joshua +Reynolds, with whom he maintained an uninterrupted intimacy to the last +hour of his life.</p> + +<p>When Johnson lived in Castle Street, Cavendish Square, he used +frequently to visit two ladies who lived opposite to him--Miss Cotterells, +daughters of Admiral Cotterell. Reynolds used also to visit there, and thus +they met. Mr. Reynolds had, from the first reading of his "Life of Savage," +conceived a very high admiration of Johnson's powers of writing. His +conversation no less delighted him, and he cultivated his acquaintance with +the laudable zeal of one who was ambitious of general improvement.</p> + +<p>His acquaintance with Bennet Langton, Esq., of Langton, in Lincolnshire, +another much valued friend, commenced soon after the conclusion of the +"Rambler," which that gentleman, then a youth, had read with so much +admiration that he came to London chiefly with the view of endeavouring to +be introduced to its author. By a fortunate chance he happened to take +lodgings in a house where Mr. Levett frequently visited, who readily +obtained Johnson's permission to bring Mr. Langton to him; as indeed, +Johnson, during the whole course of his life, had no shyness, real or +affected, but was easy of access to all who were properly recommended, and +even wished to see numbers at his <i>levée</i>, as his morning +circle of company might, with strict propriety, be called, for he received +his friends when he got up from bed, which rarely happened before noon.</p> + + +<h4><i>VI.--Lord Chesterfield and the "Dictionary"</i></h4> + + +<p>In 1753 and 1754 Johnson relieved the drudgery of his "Dictionary" by +taking an active part in the composition of "The Adventurer," a new +periodical paper which his friends Dr. Hawkesworth and Dr. Bathurst had +commenced.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of the latter year, when the "Dictionary" was on the eve +of publication, Lord Chesterfield, who, ever since the plan of this great +work had been addressed to him, had treated its author with cold +indifference, attempted to conciliate him by writing to papers in "The +World" in recommendation of the undertaking. This courtly device failed of +its effect, and Johnson, indignant that Lord Chesterfield should, for a +moment, imagine that he could be the dupe of such an artifice, wrote him +that famous letter, dated February 7, 1755, which I have already given to +the public. I will quote one paragraph.</p> + +<p>"Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man +struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, +encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of +my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till +I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot +impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very +cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been +received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing +that to a patron which Providence has enabled me to do for myself."</p> + +<p>Thinking it desirable that the two letters intimating possession of the +master's degree should, for the credit both of Oxford and of Johnson, +appear after his name on the title page of his "Dictionary," his friends +obtained for him from his university this mark of distinction by diploma +dated February 20, 1755; and the "Dictionary" was published on April 15 in +two volumes folio.</p> + +<p>It won him much honour at home and abroad; the Academy of Florence sent +him their "Vocabulario," and the French Academy their "Dictionnaire." But +it had not set him above the necessity of "making provision for the day +that was passing over him," for he had spent during the progress of the +work all the money which it had brought him.</p> + +<p>He was compelled, therefore, to contribute to the monthly periodicals, +and during 1756 he wrote a few essays for "The Universal Visitor," and +superintended and contributed largely to another publication entitled "The +Literary Magazine, or Universal Review." Among the articles he wrote for +the magazine was a review of Mr. Jonas Hanway's "Essay on Tea," to which +the author made an angry answer. Johnson, after a full and deliberate +pause, made a reply to it, the only instance, I believe, in the whole +course of his life, when he condescended to oppose anything that was +written against him.</p> + +<p>His defence of tea was indeed made <i>con amore</i>. I suppose no person +ever enjoyed with more relish the infusion of that fragrant leaf than +Johnson. The quantities which he drank of it at all hours were so great +that his nerves must have been uncommonly strong not to have been extremely +relaxed by such an intemperate use of it.</p> + +<p>This year Johnson resumed the scheme, first proposed eleven years +previously, of giving an edition of Shakespeare with notes. He issued +proposals of considerable length, but his indolence prevented him from +pursuing the undertaking, and nine years more elapsed before it saw the +light.</p> + +<p>On April 15, 1758, he began a new periodical paper entitled "The Idler," +which came out every Saturday in a weekly newspaper called "The Universal +Chronicle, or Weekly Gazette." These essays were continued till April 5, +1760, and of the total of one hundred and three, twelve were contributed by +his friends, including Reynolds, Langton, and Thomas Warton. "The Idler" +has less body and more spirit than "The Rambler," and has more variety of +real life, and greater facility of language. It was often written as +hastily as it predecessor.</p> + +<p>In 1759, in the month of January, Johnson's mother died, at the great +age of ninety, an event which deeply affected him, for his reverential +affection for her was not abated by years. Soon after, he wrote his +"Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia," in order that with the profits he might +defray the expenses of her funeral, and pay some little debts which she had +left. He told Sir Joshua Reynolds that he composed it in the evenings of +one week, and sent it to the press in portions, as it was written. Mr. +Strahan, Mr. Johnston, and Mr. Dodsley purchased it for £100, but +afterwards paid him £25 more when it came to a second edition. Though +Johnson had written nothing else this admirable performance would have +rendered his name immortal in the world of literature. None of his writings +has been so extensively diffused over Europe; for it has been translated +into most, if not all, of the modern languages. Voltaire's "Candide," +written to refute the system of optimism, which it has accomplished with +brilliant success, is wonderfully similar in its plan and conduct to +Johnson's "Rasselas."</p> + +<p>Early in 1762, having been represented to the king as a very learned and +good person, without any certain provision, his majesty was pleased to +grant him a pension of £300 a year. The prime movers in suggesting +that Johnson ought to have a pension were Mr. Thomas Sheridan and Mr. +Murphy. Having, in his "Dictionary," defined <i>pension</i> as "generally +understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his +country," Johnson at first doubted the propriety of his accepting this mark +of the royal favour. But Sir Joshua having given his opinion that there +could be no objection to his receiving from the king a reward for literary +merit, and Lord Bute having told him expressly, "It is not given you for +anything you are to do, but for what you have done," his scruples about +accepting it were soon removed.</p> + + +<h4><i>VII.--Boswell's First Meeting with Johnson</i></h4> + + +<p>Johnson, who thought slightingly of Sheridan's art, and perhaps resented +that a player should be rewarded in the same manner with him, upon hearing +that a pension of £200 a year had been given to Sheridan, exclaimed, +"What! Have they given <i>him</i> a pension? Then it's time for me to give +up mine."</p> + +<p>A man who disliked Johnson repeated his sarcasm to Mr. Sheridan, who +could never forgive this hasty, contemptuous expression, and ever after +positively declined Johnson's repeated offers of reconciliation.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Thomas Davies, the actor, turned bookseller, who introduced +me to Johnson. On Monday, May 16, 1763. I was sitting in Mr. Davies's back +parlour at 8 Russell Street, Covent Garden, after having drunk tea with him +and Mrs. Davies, when Johnson unexpectedly came into the shop. Mr. Davies +mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. I was much +agitated at my long-wished-for introduction to the sage, and recollecting +his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to +Davies, "Don't tell where I come from----" "From Scotland!" cried Davies +roguishly. "Mr. Johnson," said I, "I do, indeed, come from Scotland, but I +cannot help it"--meaning this as light pleasantry to reconciliate him. But +with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable he seized the +expression "come from Scotland," and as if I had said that I had come away +from it, or left it, remarked, "That, sir, I find, is what a very great +many of your countrymen cannot help." This stroke, and another check which +I subsequently received, stunned me a good deal; but eight days later I +boldly repaired to his chambers on the first floor of No. 1, Inner Temple +Lane, and he received me very courteously. His morning dress was +sufficiently uncouth; his brown suit of clothes looked very rusty. He had +on a little, old, shrivelled, unpowdered wig, which was too small for his +head; his shirt-neck and knees of his breeches were loose; his black +worsted stockings ill-drawn up; and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes by way +of slippers. But all these slovenly particularities were forgotten the +moment that he began to talk.</p> + +<p>In February of the following year was founded that club which existed +long without a name, but at Mr. Garrick's funeral became distinguished by +the title of "The Literary Club." Sir Joshua Reynolds had the merit of +being the first proposer of it, to which Johnson acceded, and the original +members were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Edmund Burke, Dr. Nugent +(Mr. Burke's father-in-law), Mr. Beauclerk, Mr. Langton, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. +Chamier, and Sir John Hawkins. They met at the Turk's Head in Gerard +Street, Soho, one evening in every week at seven, and generally continued +their conversation till a very late hour. After about ten years, instead of +supping weekly, it was resolved to dine together once a fortnight during +the meeting of parliament, and, their original tavern having been converted +into a private house, they moved first to Prince's in Sackville Street, +then to Le Telier's in Dover Street, and now meet at Parsloe's, St. James's +Street. Between the time of its formation and the time at which the second +edition of this work is passing through the press (June 1792), its numbers +have been raised to thirty-five, and the following persons have belonged to +it: Mr. Dunning (afterwards Lord Ashburton), Mr. Garrick, Dr. Shepley +(Bishop of St. Asaph), Mr. Thomas Warton, Mr. Joseph Warton, Dr. Adam +Smith, Lord Charlemont, Sir Robert Chambers, Dr. Percy (Bishop of Dromore), +Dr. Barnard (Bishop of Killaloe), Mr. Charles James Fox, Mr. Gibbon, Mr. +R.B. Sheridan, Mr. Colman, Mr. Windham, of Norfolk, Dr. Burney, and the +writer of this account.</p> + +<p>This year Johnson was receiving his "Shakespeare," but he published a +review of Grainger's "Sugar Cane: A Poem" in the "London Chronicle," and +also wrote in "The Critical Review" an account of Goldsmith's excellent +poem, "The Traveller." In July 1765, Trinity College, Dublin, surprised him +with a spontaneous compliment of the highest academical honours, by +creating him Doctor of Laws, and in October he at length gave to the world +his edition of Shakespeare. This year was also distinguished by his being +introduced into the family of Mr. Thrale, an eminent brewer, who was member +for Southwark. The Thrales were so much pleased with him that his +invitations to their house were more and more frequent, till at last he +became one of the family, and an apartment was appropriated to him, both in +their house in Southwark and at Streatham.</p> + + +<h4><i>VIII.--Tours in the Hebrides and in Wales</i></h4> + + +<p>His friend, the Rev. Dr. Maxwell, speaks as follows on Johnson's general +mode of life: "About twelve o'clock I commonly visited him, and frequently +found him in bed, or declaiming over his tea, which he drank very +plentifully. He generally had a <i>levée</i> of morning visitors, +chiefly men of letters--Hawkesworth, Goldsmith, Murphy, Langton, Stevens, +Beauclerk, etc., etc., and sometimes learned ladies, particularly I +remember a French lady of wit and fashion doing him the honour of a visit. +He seemed to me to be considered as a kind of public oracle, whom everybody +thought they had a right to visit and to consult; and doubtless they were +well rewarded. I never could discover how he found time for his +compositions. He declaimed all the morning, then went to dinner at a +tavern, where he commonly stayed late, and then drank his tea at some +friend's house, over which he loitered a great while, but seldom took +supper. I fancy he must have read and wrote chiefly in the night, for I can +scarcely recollect that he ever refused going with me to a tavern, and he +often went to Ranelagh, which he deemed a place of innocent +recreation."</p> + +<p>In 1773 Johnson's only publication was an edition of his folio +"Dictionary," with additions and corrections, and the preface to his old +amanuensis, Machean's "Dictionary of Ancient Geography." His "Shakespeare," +indeed, was republished this year by George Stevens, Esq., a gentleman of +acute discernment and elegant taste.</p> + +<p>On April 23, 1773, I was nominated by Johnson for membership of the +Literary Club, and a week later I was elected to the society. There I saw +for the first time Mr. Edmund Burke, whose splendid talents had made me +ardently wish for his acquaintance.</p> + +<p>This same year Johnson made, in my company, his visit to Scotland, which +lasted from August 14, on which day he arrived, till November 22, when he +set out on his return to London; and I believe one hundred days were never +passed by any men in a more vigorous exertion. His various adventures, and +the force and vivacity of his mind, as exercised during this peregrination, +upon innumerable topics, have been faithfully, and to the best of my +ability, displayed in my "Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides."</p> + +<p>On his return to London his humane, forgiving dispositions were put to a +pretty strong test by a liberty which Mr. Thomas Davies had taken, which +was to publish two volumes, entitled "Miscellaneous and Fugitive Pieces," +which he advertised in the newspapers, "By the Author of the Rambler." In +some of these Johnson had no concern whatever. He was at first very angry, +but, upon consideration of his poor friend's narrow circumstances, and that +he meant no harm, he soon relented.</p> + +<p>Dr. Goldsmith died on April 4 of the following year, a year in which I +was unable to pay my usual spring visit to London, and in which Johnson +made a long autumn tour in Wales with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. In response to +some inquiries of mine about poor Goldsmith, he wrote: "Of poor, dear +Goldsmith there is little to be told more than the papers have made public. +He died of a fever, made, I am afraid, more violent by uneasiness of mind. +His debts began to be heavy, and all his resources were exhausted. Sir +Joshua is of the opinion that he owed not less than £2,000. Was ever +poet so trusted before?"</p> + +<p>This year, too, my great friend again came out as a politician, for +parliament having been dissolved in September, and Mr. Thrale, who was a +steady supporter of government, having again to encounter the storm of a +contested election in Southwark, Johnson published a short political +pamphlet, entitled "The Patriot," addressed to the electors of Great +Britain. It was written with energetic vivacity; and except those passages +in which it endeavours to vindicate the glaring outrage of the House of +Commons in the case of the Middlesex election and to justify the attempt to +reduce our fellow-subjects in America to unconditional submission, it +contained an admirable display of the properties of a real patriot, in the +original and genuine sense.</p> + + +<h4><i>IX.--Johnson's Physical Courage and Fear of Death</i></h4> + + +<p>The "Rambler's" own account of our tour in the Hebrides was published in +1775 under the title of "A journey to the Western Islands of Scotland," and +soon involved its author, who had expressed his disbelief in the +authenticity of Ossian's poems, in a controversy with Mr. Macpherson. +Johnson called for the production of the old manuscripts from which Mr. +Macpherson said that he had copied the poems. He wrote to me: "I am +surprised that, knowing as you do the disposition of your countrymen to +tell lies in favour of each other, you can be at all affected by any +reports that circulate among them." And when Mr. Macpherson, exasperated by +this scepticism, replied in words that are generally said to have been of a +nature very different from the language of literary contest, Johnson +answered him in a letter that opened: "I received your foolish and impudent +letter. Any violence offered me I shall do my best to repel, and what I +cannot do for myself the law shall do for me. I hope I shall never be +deterred from detecting what I think a cheat by the menaces of a +ruffian."</p> + +<p>Mr. Macpherson knew little the character of Dr. Johnson if he supposed +that he could be easily intimidated, for no man was ever more remarkable +for personal courage. He had, indeed, an awful dread of death, or, rather, +"of something after death"; and he once said to me, "The fear of death is +so much natural to man that the whole of life is but keeping away the +thoughts of it," and confessed that "he had never had a moment in which +death was not terrible to him." But his fear was from reflection, his +courage natural. Many instances of his resolution may be mentioned. One +day, at Mr. Beauclerk's house in the country, when two large dogs were +fighting, he went up to them and beat them till they separated.</p> + +<p>At another time, when Foote threatened to <i>take him off</i> on the +stage, he sent out for an extra large oak stick; and this mere threat, +repeated by Davies to Foote, effectually checked the wantonness of the +mimic. On yet another occasion, in the playhouse at Lichfield, as Mr. +Garrick informed me, Johnson having for a moment quitted a chair which was +placed for him between the side scenes, a gentleman took possession of it, +and when Johnson on his return civilly demanded his seat, rudely refused to +give it up; upon which Johnson laid hold of it, and tossed him and the +chair into the pit.</p> + +<p>My revered friend had long before indulged most unfavourable sentiments +of our fellow-subjects in America. As early as 1769 he had said to them: +"Sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to be grateful for anything we +allow them short of hanging." He had recently published, at the desire of +those in power, a pamphlet entitled "Taxation no Tyranny; an Answer to the +Resolutions and Address of the American Congress." Of this performance I +avoided to talk with him, having formed a clear and settled opinion against +the doctrine of its title.</p> + +<p>In the autumn Dr. Johnson went to Ashbourne to France with Mr. and Mrs. +Thrale and Mr. Baretti, which lasted about two months. But he did not get +into any higher acquaintance; and Foote, who was at Paris at the time with +him, used to give a description of my friend while there and of French +astonishment at his figure, manner, and dress, which was abundantly +ludicrous. He was now a Doctor of Laws of Oxford, his university having +conferred that degree on him by diploma in the spring.</p> + + +<h4><i>X.--Johnson's "Seraglio"</i></h4> + + +<p>A circumstance which could not fail to be very pleasing to Johnson +occurred in 1777. The tragedy of "Sir Thomas Overbury," written by his +early companion in London, Richard Savage, was brought out, with +alterations, at Covent Garden Theatre, on February 1; and the prologue to +it, written by Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, introduced an elegant +compliment to Johnson on his "Dictionary." Johnson was pleased with young +Mr. Sheridan's liberality of sentiment, and willing to show that though +estranged from the father he could acknowledge the brilliant merit of the +son, he proposed him, and secured his election, as a member of the Literary +Club, observing that "he who has written the two best comedies of his age +["The Rivals" and "The Duenna"] is surely a considerable man."</p> + +<p>In the autumn Dr. Johnson went to Ashbourne to stop with his friend, the +Rev. Dr. Taylor, and I joined him there. I was somewhat disappointed in +finding that the edition of the "English Poets" for which he was to write +prefaces and lives was not an undertaking directed by him, but that he was +to furnish a preface and life to any poet the booksellers pleased. I asked +him if he would do this to any dunce's works if they should ask him. +Johnson: "Yes, sir, and <i>say</i> he was a dunce." My friend seemed now +not much to relish talking of this edition; it had been arranged by the +forty chief booksellers of London, and Johnson had named his own terms for +the "Lives," namely, two hundred guineas.</p> + +<p>During this visit he put into my hands the whole series of his writings +in behalf of the Rev. Dr. William Dodd, who, having been +chaplain-in-ordinary to his majesty, and celebrated as a very popular +preacher, was this year convicted and executed for forging a bond on his +former pupil, the young Earl of Chesterfield. Johnson certainly made +extraordinary exertions to save Dodd. He wrote several petitions and +letters on the subject, and composed for the unhappy man not only his +"Speech to the Recorder of London," at the Old Bailey, when sentence of +death was about to be pronounced upon him, and "The Convict's Address to +his Unhappy Brethren," a sermon delivered by Dr. Dodd in the chapel of +Newgate, but also "Dr. Dodd's Last Solemn Declaration," which he left with +the sheriff at the place of execution.</p> + +<p>In 1778, I arrived in London on March 18, and next day met Dr. Johnson +at his old friend's, in Dean's Yard, for Dr. Taylor was a prebendary of +Westminster. On Friday, March 2d, I found him at his own house, sitting +with Mrs. Williams, and was informed that the room allotted to me three +years previously was now appropriated to a charitable purpose, Mrs. +Desmoulins, daughter of Johnson's godfather Dr. Swinfen, and, I think, her +daughter, and a Miss Carmichael, being all lodged in it. Such was his +humanity, and such his generosity, that Mrs. Desmoulins herself told me he +allowed her half-a-guinea a week.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately his "Seraglio," as he sometimes suffered me to call his +group of females, were perpetually jarring with one another. He thus +mentions them, together with honest Levett, in one of his letters to Mrs. +Thrale: "Williams hates everybody; Levett hates Desmoulins, and does not +love Williams--Desmoulins hates them both; Poll (Miss Carmichael) loves +none of them."</p> + +<p>On January 20, 1779, Johnson lost his old friend Garrick, and this same +year he gave the world a luminous proof that the vigour of his mind in all +its faculties, whether memory, judgement, and imagination, was not in the +least abated, by publishing the first four volumes of his "Prefaces, +Biographical and Critical, to the Most Eminent of the English Poets." The +remaining volumes came out in 1781.</p> + +<p>In 1780 the world was kept in impatience for the completion of his +"Lives of the Poets," upon which he was employed so far as his indolence +allowed him to labour.</p> + +<p>This year--on March 11--Johnson lost another old friend in Mr. Topham +Beauclerk, of whom he said: "No man ever was so free when he was going to +say a good thing, from a <i>look</i> that expressed that it was coming; or, +when he had said it, from a look that expressed that it had come."</p> + + +<h4><i>XI.--Johnson's Humanity to Children, Servants, and the Poor</i></h4> + + +<p>I was disappointed in my hopes of seeing Johnson in 1780, but I was able +to come to London in the spring of 1781, and on Tuesday, March 20, I met +him in Fleet Street, walking, or, rather, indeed, moving along--for his +peculiar march is thus correctly described in a short life of him published +very soon after his death: "When he walked the streets, what with the +constant roll of his head, and the concomitant motion of his body, he +appeared to make his way by that motion, independent of his feet." That he +was often much stared at while he advanced in this manner may easily be +believed, but it was not safe to make sport of one so robust as he was.</p> + +<p>I waited on him next evening, and he gave me a great portion of his +original manuscript of his "Lives of the Poets," which he had preserved for +me.</p> + +<p>I found on visiting his friend, Mr. Thrale, that he was now very ill, +and had removed--I suppose by the solicitation of Mrs. Thrale--to a house +in Grosvenor Square. I was sorry to see him sadly changed in his +appearance. He died shortly after.</p> + +<p>He told me I might now have the pleasure to see Dr. Johnson drink wine +again, for he had lately returned to it. When I mentioned this to Johnson, +he said: "I drink it now sometimes, but not socially." The first evening +that I was with him at Thrale's, I observed he poured a large quantity of +it into a glass, and swallowed it greedily. Everything about his character +and manners was forcible and violent; there never was any moderation; many +a day did he fast, many a year did he refrain from wine; but when he did +eat, it was voraciously; when he did drink wine, it was copiously. He could +practice abstinence, but not temperance.</p> + +<p>"I am not a severe man," Johnson once said; "as I know more of mankind I +expect less of them, and am ready now to call a man <i>a good man</i> upon +easier terms than I was formerly."</p> + +<p>This kind indulgence--extended towards myself when overcome by wine--had +once or twice a pretty difficult trial, but on my making an apology, I +always found Johnson behave to me with the most friendly gentleness. In +fact, Johnson was not severe, but he was pugnacious, and this pugnacity and +roughness he displayed most conspicuously in conversation. He could not +brook appearing to be worsted in argument, even when, to show the force and +dexterity of his talents, he had taken the wrong side. When, therefore, he +perceived that his opponent gained ground, he had recourse to some sudden +mode of robust sophistry. Once when I was pressing upon him with visible +advantage, he stopped me thus: "My dear Boswell, let's have no more of +this. You'll make nothing of it. I'd rather have you whistle a Scotch +tune."</p> + +<p>Goldsmith used to say, in the witty words of one of Cibber's comedies, +"There is no arguing with Johnson, for when his pistol misses fire, he +knocks you down with the butt end of it."</p> + +<p>In 1782 his complaints increased, and the history of his life this year +is little more than a mournful recital of the variations of his illness. In +one of his letters to Mr. Hector he says, indeed, "My health has been, from +my twentieth year, such as has seldom afforded me a single day of ease." At +a time, then, when he was less able than he had once been to sustain a +shock, he was suddenly deprived of Mr. Levett, who died on January 17. But, +although his health was tottering, the powers of his mind were in no ways +impaired, as his letters and conversation showed. Moreover, during the last +three or four years of his life he may be said to have mellowed.</p> + +<p>His love of little children, which he discovered upon all occasions, +calling them "pretty dears," and giving them sweetmeats, was an undoubted +proof of the real humanity and gentleness of his disposition. His uncommon +kindness to his servants, and serious concern, not only for their comfort +in this world, but their happiness in the next, was another unquestionable +evidence of what all who were intimately acquainted with him knew to be +true. Nor would it be just, under this head, to omit the fondness that he +showed for animals which he had taken under his protection. I never shall +forget the indulgence with which he treated Hodge, his cat, for whom he +himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants, having that +trouble, should take a dislike to the poor creature.</p> + + +<h4><i>XII.--The Last Year</i></h4> + + +<p>In April, 1783, Johnson had a paralytic stroke, which deprived him, for +a time, of the powers of speech. But he recovered so quickly that in July +he was able to make a visit to Mr. Langton, at Rochester, where he passed +about a fortnight, and made little excursions as easily as at any time of +his life. In August he went as far as the neighbourhood of Salisbury, to +Heale, the seat of William Bowles, Esq.; and it was while he was here that +he had a letter from his physician, Dr. Brocklesby, acquainting him of the +death of Mrs. Williams, which affected him a good deal.</p> + +<p>In the end of 1783, in addition to his gout and his catarrhous cough, he +was seized with a spasmodic asthma of such violence that he was confined to +the house in great pain, being sometimes obliged to sit all night in his +chair, a recumbent posture being so hurtful to his respiration that he +could not endure lying in bed; and there came upon him at the same time +that oppressive and fatal disease of dropsy. His cough he used to cure by +taking laudanum and syrup of poppies, and he was a great believer in the +advantages of being bled. But this year the very severe winter aggravated +his complaints, and the asthma confined him to the house for more than +three months; though he got almost complete relief from the dropsy by +natural evacuation in February.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday, May 5, 1784--the last year of Dr. Johnson's life--I +arrived in London for my spring visit; and next morning I had the pleasure +to find him greatly recovered. But I was in his company frequently and +particularly remember the fine spirits he was in one evening at our Essex +Head Club. He praised Mr. Burke's constant stream of conversation, saying, +"Yes, sir; if a man were to go by chance at the same time with Burke under +a shed, to shun a shower, he would say, 'This is an extraordinary +man.'"</p> + +<p>He had now a great desire to go to Oxford, as his first jaunt after his +illness; we talked of it for some days, and on June 3 the Oxford post-coach +took us up at Bolt Court, and we spent an agreeable fortnight with Dr. +Adams at Pembroke College.</p> + +<p>The anxiety of his friends to preserve so estimable a life made them +plan for him a retreat from the severity of a British winter to the mild +climate of Italy; and, after consulting with Sir Joshua Reynolds, I wrote +to Lord Thurlow, the Lord Chancellor, for such an addition to Johnson's +income as would enable him to bear the expense.</p> + +<p>Lord Thurlow, who highly valued Johnson, and whom Johnson highly valued, +at first made a very favourable reply, which being communicated to Dr. +Johnson, greatly affected him; but eventually he had to confess that his +application had been unsuccessful, and made a counter proposal, very +gratefully refused by Johnson, that he should draw upon him to the amount +of £500 or £600.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday, June 30, I dined with him, for the last time, at Sir +Joshua Reynolds's, no other company being present; and on July 2 I left +London for Scotland.</p> + +<p>Soon afterwards he had the mortification of being informed by Mrs. +Thrale that she was actually going to marry Signor Piozzi, a papist, and +her daughter's music-master. He endeavoured to prevent the marriage, but in +vain.</p> + +<p>Eleven days after I myself had left town, Johnson set out on a jaunt to +Staffordshire and Derbyshire, flattering himself that he might be, in some +degree, relieved; but towards the end of October he had to confess that his +progress was slight. But there was in him an animated and lofty spirit, and +such was his love of London that he languished when absent from it. To Dr. +Brocklesby he wrote: "I am not afraid either of a journey to London, or of +a residence in it. The town is my element; there are my friends, there are +my books, to which I have not yet bid farewell, and there are my +amusements. Sir Joshua told me long ago that my vocation was to public +life, and I hope still to keep my station, till God shall bid me 'Go in +peace.'"</p> + +<p>He arrived in London on November 16. Soon after his return both the +asthma and the dropsy became more violent and distressful, and though he +was attended by Dr. Heberden, Dr. Brocklesby, Dr. Warren, and Dr. Butter, +who all refused fees, and though he himself co-operated with them, and made +deep incisions in his body to draw off the water from it, he gradually +sank. On December 2, he sent directions for inscribing epitaphs for his +father, mother, and brother on a memorial slab in St. Michael's Church, +Lichfield. On December 8 and 9 he made his will; and on Monday, December +13, he expired about seven o'clock in the evening, with so little apparent +pain that his attendants hardly perceived when his dissolution took place. +A week later he was buried in Westminster Abbey, his old schoolfellow, Dr. +Taylor, reading the service.</p> + +<p>I trust I shall not be accused of affectation when I declare that I find +myself unable to express all that I felt upon the loss of such a "Guide, +Philosopher, and Friend." I shall, therefore, not say one word of my own, +but adopt those of an eminent friend, which he uttered with an abrupt +felicity: "He has made a chasm, which not only nothing can fill up, but +which nothing has a tendency to fill up. Johnson is dead. Let us go to the +next best: there is nobody; no man can be said to put you in mind of +Johnson."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="SIR_DAVID_BREWSTER"></a>SIR DAVID BREWSTER</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Life_of_Sir_Isaac_Newton"></a>Life of Sir Isaac Newton</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Sir David Brewster, a distinguished physicist, was born at +Jedburgh, on December 11, 1781. He was educated at Edinburgh University, +and was licensed as a clergyman of the Church of Scotland by the Presbytery +of Edinburgh. Nervousness in the pulpit compelled him to retire from +clerical life and devote himself to scientific work, and in 1808 he became +editor of the "Edinburgh Encyclopaedia." His chief scientific interest was +optics, and he invented the kaleidoscope, and improved Wheatstone's +stereoscope by introducing the divided lenses. In 1815 he was elected a +member of the Royal Society, and, later, was awarded the Rumford gold and +silver medals for his discoveries in the polarisation of light. In 1831 he +was knighted. From 1859 he held the office of Principal of Edinburgh +University until his death on February 10, 1868. The "Life of Sir Isaac +Newton" appeared in 1831, when it was first published in Murray's "Family +Library." Although popularly written, not only does it embody the results +of years of investigation, but it throws a unique light on the life of the +celebrated scientist. Brewster supplemented it in 1855 with the much fuller +"Memoirs of the Life, Writings, and Discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton." +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Young Scientist</i></h4> + + +<p>Sir Isaac Newton was born at the hamlet of Woolsthorpe on December 25, +1642. His father, a yeoman farmer, died a few months after his marriage, +and never saw his son.</p> + +<p>When Isaac was three years old his mother married again, and he was +given over to the charge of his maternal grandmother. While still a boy at +school, his mechanical genius began to show itself, and he constructed +various mechanisms, including a windmill, a water-clock, and a carriage put +in motion by the person who sat in it. He was also fond of drawing, and +wrote verses. Even at this age he began to take an interest in astronomy. +In the yard of the house where he lived he traced the varying movements of +the sun upon the walls of the buildings, and by means of fixed pins he +marked out the hourly and half-hourly subdivisions.</p> + +<p>At the age of fifteen his mother took him from school, and sent him to +manage the farm and country business at Woolsthorpe, but farming and +marketing did not interest him, and he showed such a passion for study that +eventually he was sent back to school to prepare for Cambridge.</p> + +<p>In the year 1660 Newton was admitted into Trinity College, Cambridge. +His attention was first turned to the study of mathematics by a desire to +inquire into the truth of judicial astrology, and he is said to have +discovered the folly of that study by erecting a figure with the aid of one +or two of the problems in Euclid. The propositions contained in Euclid he +regarded as self-evident; and, without any preliminary study, he made +himself master of Descartes' "Geometry" by his genius and patient +application. Dr. Wallis's "Arithmetic of Infinites," Sanderson's "Logic," +and the "Optics" of Kepler, were among the books which he studied with +care; and he is reported to have found himself more deeply versed in some +branches of knowledge than the tutor who directed his studies.</p> + +<p>In 1665 Newton took his Bachelor of Arts degree, and in 1666, in +consequence of the breaking out of the plague, he retired to Woolsthorpe. +In 1668 he took his Master of Arts degree, and was appointed to a senior +fellowship. And in 1669 he was made Lucasian professor of mathematics.</p> + +<p>During the years 1666-69, Newton was engaged in optical researches which +culminated in his invention of the first reflecting telescope. On January +11, 1761, it was announced to the Royal Society that his reflecting +telescope had been shown to the king, and had been examined by the +president, Sir Robert Murray, Sir Paul Neale, and Sit Christopher Wren.</p> + +<p>In the course of his optical researches, Newton discovered the different +refrangibility of different rays of light, and in his professorial lectures +during the years 1669, 1670, and 1671 he announced his discoveries; but not +till 1672 did he communicate them to the Royal Society. No sooner were +these discoveries given to the world than they were opposed with a degree +of virulence and ignorance which have seldom been combined in scientific +controversy. The most distinguished of his opponents were Robert Hooke and +Huyghens. Both attacked his theory from the standpoint of the undulatory +theory of light which they upheld.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--The Colours of Natural Bodies</i></h4> + + +<p>In examining the nature and origin of colours as the component parts of +white light, the attention of Newton was directed to the explanation of the +colours of natural bodies. His earliest researches on this subject were +communicated, in his "Discourse on Light and Colours," to the Royal Society +in 1675.</p> + +<p>Dr. Hooke had succeeded in splitting a mineral substance called mica +into films of such extreme thinness as to give brilliant colours. One +plate, for example, gave a yellow colour, another a blue colour, and the +two together a deep purple, but as plates which produced this colour were +always less than the twelve-thousandth part of an inch thick it was quite +impracticable, by any contrivance yet discovered, to measure their +thickness, and determine the law according to which the colours varied with +the thickness of the film. Newton surmounted this difficulty by laying a +double convex lens, the radius of the curvature of each side of which was +fifty feet, upon the flat surface of a plano-convex object-glass, and in +the way he obtained a plate of air, or of space, varying from the thinnest +possible edge at the centre of the object-glass where it touched the plane +surface to a considerable thickness at the circumference of the lens. When +the light was allowed to fall upon the object-glass, every different +thickness of the plate of air between the object-glasses gave different +colours, so that the point where the two object-glasses touched one another +was the centre of a number of concentric coloured rings. Now, as the +curvature of the object-glass was known, it was easy to calculate the +thickness of the plate of air at which any particular colour appeared, and +thus to determine the law of the phenomena.</p> + +<p>By accurate measurements Newton found that the thickness of air at which +the most luminous parts of the first rings were produced were, in parts of +an inch, as 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, and 11 to 178,000.</p> + +<p>If the medium or the substance of the thin plate is water, as in the +case of the soap-bubble, which produces beautiful colours according to its +different degrees of thinness, the thicknesses at which the most luminous +parts of the ring appear are produced at 1/1.336 the thickness at which +they are produced in air, and, in the case of glass or mica, at 1/1.525 at +thickness, the numbers 1.336, 1.525 expressing the ratio of the sines of +the angles of incidence and refraction which produce the colours.</p> + +<p>From the phenomena thus briefly described, Newton deduced that +ingenious, though hypothetical, property of light called its "fits of easy +reflection and transmission." This property consists in supposing that +every particle of light from its first discharge from a luminous body +possesses, at equally distant intervals, dispositions to be reflected from, +and transmitted through, the surfaces of the bodies upon which it is +incident. Hence, if a particle of light reaches a reflecting surface of +glass <i>when in its fit of easy reflection</i>, or in its disposition to +be reflected, it will yield more readily to the reflecting force of the +surface; and, on the contrary, if it reaches the same surface <i>while in a +fit of easy transmission</i>, or in a disposition to be transmitted, it +will yield with more difficulty to the reflecting force.</p> + +<p>The application of the theory of alternate fits of transmission and +reflection to explain the colours of thin plates is very simple.</p> + +<p>Transparency, opacity and colour were explained by Newton on the +following principles.</p> + +<p>Bodies that have the greatest refractive powers reflect the greatest +quantity of light from their surfaces, and at the confines of equally +refracting media there is no reflection.</p> + +<p>The least parts of almost all natural bodies are in some measure +transparent.</p> + +<p>Between the parts of opaque and coloured bodies are many spaces, or +pores, either empty or filled with media of other densities.</p> + +<p>The parts of bodies and their interstices or pores must not be less than +of some definite bigness to render them coloured.</p> + +<p>The transparent parts of bodies, according to their several sizes, +reflect rays of one colour, and transmit those of another on the same +ground that thin plates do reflect or transmit these rays.</p> + +<p>The parts of bodies on which their colour depend are denser than the +medium which pervades their interstices.</p> + +<p>The bigness of the component parts of natural bodies may be conjectured +by their colours.</p> + +<p><i>Transparency</i> he considers as arising from the particles and their +intervals, or pores, being too small to cause reflection at their common +surfaces; so that all light which enters transparent bodies passes through +them without any portion of it being turned from its path by reflexion.</p> + +<p><i>Opacity</i>, he thinks, arises from an opposite cause, <i>viz.</i>, +when the parts of bodies are of such a size to be capable of reflecting the +light which falls upon them, in which case the light is "stopped or +stifled" by the multitude of reflections.</p> + +<p>The <i>colours</i> of natural bodies have, in the Newtonian hypothesis, +the same origin as the colours of thin plates, their transparent particles, +according to their several sizes, reflecting rays of one colour and +transmitting those of another.</p> + +<p>Among the optical discoveries of Newton those which he made on the +inflection of light hold a high place. They were first published in his +"Treatise on Optics," in 1707.</p> + + +<h4><i>III--The Discovery of the Law of Gravitation</i></h4> + + +<p>From the optical labours of Newton we now proceed to the history of his +astronomical discoveries, those transcendent deductions of human reason by +which he has secured to himself an immortal name, and vindicated the +intellectual dignity of his species.</p> + +<p>In the year 1666, Newton was sitting in his garden at Woolsthorpe, +reflecting on the nature of gravity, that remarkable power which causes all +bodies to descend towards the centre of the earth. As this power does not +sensibly diminish at the greatest height we can reach he conceived it +possible that it might reach to the moon and affect its motion, and even +hold it in its orbit. At such a distance, however, he considered some +diminution of the force probable, and in order to estimate the diminution, +he supposed that the primary planets were carried round the sun by the same +force. On this assumption, by comparing the periods of the different +planets with their distances from the sun, he found that the force must +decrease as the squares of the distances from the sun. In drawing this +conclusion he supposed the planets to move in circular orbits round the +sun.</p> + +<p>Having thus obtained a law, he next tried to ascertain if it applied to +the moon and the earth, to determine if the force emanating from the earth +was sufficient, if diminished in the duplicate ratio of the moon's +distance, to retain the moon in its orbit. For this purpose it was +necessary to compare the space through which heavy bodies fall in a second +at the surface of the earth with the space through which the moon, as it +were, falls to the earth in a second of time, while revolving in a circular +orbit. Owing to an erroneous estimate of the earth's diameter, he found the +facts not quite in accordance with the supposed law; he found that the +force which on this assumption would act upon the moon would be one-sixth +more than required to retain it in its orbit.</p> + +<p>Because of this incongruity he let the matter drop for a time. But, in +1679, his mind again reverted to the subject; and in 1682, having obtained +a correct measurement of the diameter of the earth, he repeated his +calculations of 1666. In the progress of his calculations he saw that the +result which he had formerly expected was likely to be produced, and he was +thrown into such a state of nervous irritability that he was unable to +carry on the calculation. In this state of mind he entrusted it to one of +his friends, and he had the high satisfaction of finding his former views +amply realised. The force of gravity which regulated the fall of bodies at +the earth's surface, when diminished as the square of the moon's distance +from the earth, was found to be exactly equal to the centrifugal force of +the moon as deduced from her observed distance and velocity.</p> + +<p>The influence of such a result upon such a mind may be more easily +conceived than described. The whole material universe was opened out before +him; the sun with all his attending planets; the planets with all their +satellites; the comets wheeling in every direction in their eccentric +orbits; and the system of the fixed stars stretching to the remotest limits +of space. All the varied and complicated movements of the heavens, in +short, must have been at once presented to his mind as the necessary result +of that law which he had established in reference to the earth and the +moon.</p> + +<p>After extending this law to the other bodies of the system, he composed +a series of propositions on the motion of the primary planets about the +sun, which was sent to London about the end of 1683, and was soon +afterwards communicated to the Royal Society.</p> + +<p>Newton's discovery was claimed by Hooke, who certainly aided Newton to +reach the truth, and was certainly also on the track of the same law.</p> + +<p>Between 1686 and 1687 appeared the three books of Newton's immortal +work, known as the "Principia." The first and second book are entitled "On +the Motion of Bodies," and the third "On the System of the World."</p> + +<p>In this great work Newton propounds the principle that "every particle +of matter in the universe is attracted by, or gravitates to, every other +particle of matter with a force inversely proportional to the squares of +their distances." From the second law of Kepler, namely, the +proportionality of the areas to the times of their description, Newton +inferred that the force which keeps a planet in its orbit is always +directed to the sun. From the first law of Kepler, that every planet moves +in an ellipse with the sun in one of its foci, he drew the still more +general inference that the force by which the planet moves round that focus +varies inversely as the square of its distance from the focus. From the +third law of Kepler, which connects the distances and periods of the +planets by a general rule, Newton deduced the equality of gravity in them +all towards the sun, modified only by their different distances from its +centre; and in the case of terrestrial bodies, he succeeded in verifying +the equality of action by numerous and accurate experiments.</p> + +<p>By taking a more general view of the subject, Newton showed that a conic +section was the only curve in which a body could move when acted upon by a +force varying inversely as the square of the distance; and he established +the conditions depending on the velocity and the primitive position of the +body which were requisite to make it describe a circular, an elliptical, a +parabolic, or a hyperbolic orbit.</p> + +<p>It still remained to show whether the force resided in the centre of +planets or in their individual particles; and Newton demonstrated that if a +spherical body acts upon a distant body with a force varying as the +distance of this body from the centre of the sphere, the same effect will +be produced as if each of its particles acted upon the distant body +according to the same law.</p> + +<p>Hence it follows that the spheres, whether they are of uniform density, +or consist of concentric layers of varying densities, will act upon each +other in the same manner as if their force resided in their centres alone. +But as the bodies of the solar system are nearly spherical, they will all +act upon one another and upon bodies placed on their surface, as if they +were so many centres of attraction; and therefore we obtain the law of +gravity, that one sphere will act upon another sphere with a force directly +proportional to the quantity of matter, and inversely as the square of the +distance between the centres of the spheres. From the equality of action +and reaction, to which no exception can be found, Newton concluded that the +sun gravitates to the planets and the planets to their satellites, and the +earth itself to the stone which falls upon its surface, and consequently +that the two mutually gravitating bodies approach one another with +velocities inversely proportional to their quantities of matter.</p> + +<p>Having established this universal law, Newton was able not only to +determine the weight which the same body would have at the surface of the +sun and the planets, but even to calculate the quantity of matter in the +sun and in all the planets that had satellites, and also to determine their +density or specific gravity.</p> + +<p>With wonderful sagacity Newton traced the consequences of the law of +gravitation. He showed that the earth must be an oblate spheroid, formed by +the revolution of an ellipse round its lesser axis. He showed how the tides +were caused by the moon, and how the effect of the moon's action upon the +earth is to draw its fluid parts into the form of an oblate spheroid, the +axis of which passes through the moon. He also applied the law of +gravitation to explain irregularities in the lunar motions, the precession +of the equinoctial points, and the orbits of comets.</p> + +<p>In the "Principia" Newton published for the first time the fundamental +principle of the fluxionary calculus which he had discovered about twenty +years before; but not till 1693 was his whole work communicated to the +mathematical world. This delay in publication led to the historical +controversy between him and Leibnitz as to priority of discovery.</p> + +<p>In 1676 Newton had communicated to Leibnitz the fact that he had +discovered a general method of drawing tangents, concealing the method in +two sentences of transposed characters. In the following year Leibnitz +mentioned in a letter to Oldenburg (to be communicated to Newton) that he +had been for some time in possession of a method for drawing tangents, and +explains the method, which was no other than the differential calculus. +Before Newton had published a single word upon fluxions the differential +calculus had made rapid advances on the Continent.</p> + +<p>In 1704 a reviewer of Newton's "Optics" insinuated that Newton had +merely improved the method of Leibnitz, and had indeed stolen Leibnitz's +discovery; and this started a controversy which raged for years. Finally, +in 1713, a committee of the Royal Society investigated the matter, and +decided that Newton was the first inventor.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Later Years of Newton's Life</i></h4> + + +<p>In 1692, when Newton was attending divine service, his dog Diamond upset +a lighted taper on his desk and destroyed some papers representing the work +of years. Newton is reported merely to have exclaimed: "O Diamond, Diamond, +little do you know the mischief you have done me!" But, nevertheless, his +excessive grief is said for a time to have affected his mind.</p> + +<p>In 1695 Newton was appointed Warden of the Mint, and his mathematical +and chemical knowledge were of eminent use in carrying on the recoinage of +the mint. Four years later he was made Master of the Mint, and held this +office during the remainder of his life. In 1701 he was elected one of the +members of parliament for Oxford University, and in 1705 he was +knighted.</p> + +<p>Towards the end of his life Newton began to devote special attention to +the theological questions, and in 1733 he published a work entitled +"Observations upon the Prophecies of Daniel and the Apocalypse of St. +John," which is characterised by great learning and marked with the +sagacity of its distinguished author. Besides this religious work, he also +published his "Historical Account of Two Notable Corruptions of Scripture," +and his "Lexicon Propheticum."</p> + +<p>In addition to theology, Newton also studied chemistry; and in 1701 a +paper by him, entitled "Scala graduum caloris," was read at the Royal +Society; while the queries at the end of his "Optics" are largely chemical, +dealing with such subjects as fire, flame, vapour, heat, and elective +attractions.</p> + +<p>He regards fire as a body heated so hot as to emit light copiously; and +flame as a vapour, fume, or exhalation, heated so hot as to shine.</p> + +<p>In explaining the structure of solid bodies, he is of the opinion "that +the smallest particles of matter may cohere by the strongest attractions, +and compose bigger particles of weaker virtue; and many of these may cohere +and compose bigger particles whose virtue is still weaker; and so on for +diverse successions, until the progression end in the biggest particles on +which the operations in chemistry and the colours of natural bodies depend, +and which, by adhering, compose bodies of a sensible magnitude. If the body +is compact, and bends or yields inward to pressure without any sliding of +its parts, it is hard and elastic, returning to its figure with a force +arising from the mutual attraction of its parts.</p> + +<p>"If the parts slide upon one another the body is malleable and soft. If +they slip easily, and are of a fit size to be agitated by heat, and the +heat is big enough to keep them in agitation, the body is fluid; and if it +be apt to stick to things it is humid; and the drops of every fluid affect +a round figure by the mutual attraction of their parts, as the globe of the +earth and sea affects a round figure by the mutual attraction of its parts +by gravity."</p> + +<p>In a letter to Mr. Boyle (1678-79) Newton explains his views respecting +the ether. He considers that the ether accounts for the refraction of +light, the cohesion of two polished pieces of metal in an exhausted +receiver, the adhesion of quick-silver to glass tubes, the cohesion of the +parts of all bodies, the phenomena of filtration and of capillary +attraction, the action of menstrua on bodies, the transmutation of gross +compact substances into aerial ones, and gravity. If a body is either +heated or loses its heat when placed in vacuo, he ascribes the conveyance +of the heat in both cases "to the vibration of a much subtler medium than +air"; and he considers this medium also the medium by which light is +refracted and reflected, and by whose vibrations light communicates heat to +bodies and is put into fits of easy reflection and transmission. Light, +Newton regards as a peculiar substance composed of heterogeneous particles +thrown off with great velocity in all directions from luminous bodies, and +he supposes that these particles while passing through the ether excite in +it vibrations, or pulses, which accelerate or retard the particles of +light, and thus throw them into alternate "fits of easy reflection and +transmission." He computes the elasticity of the ether to be +490,000,000,000 times greater than air in proportion to its density.</p> + +<p>In 1722, in his eightieth year, Newton began to suffer from stone; but +by means of a strict regimen and other precautions he was enabled to +alleviate the complaint, and to procure long intervals of ease. But a +journey to London on February 28, 1727, to preside at a meeting of the +Royal Society greatly aggravated the complaint. On Wednesday, March 15, he +appeared to be somewhat better. On Saturday morning he carried on a pretty +long conversation with Dr. Mead; but at six o'clock the same evening he +became insensible, and continued in that state until Monday, the 20th, when +he expired, without pain, between one and two o'clock in the morning, in +the eighty-fifth year of his age.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="JOHN_BUNYAN"></a>JOHN BUNYAN</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Grace_Abounding"></a>Grace Abounding</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> During his life of sixty years Bunyan wrote sixty books, +and of all these undoubtedly the most popular are the "Pilgrim's Progress," +"The Holy War," and "Grace Abounding." His "Grace Abounding to the Chief of +Sinners," generally called simply "Grace Abounding," is a record of his own +religious experiences. (Bunyan, biography: see FICTION.) </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--To the Chief of Sinners</i></h4> + + +<p>In this relation of the merciful working of God upon my soul I do in the +first place give you a hint of my pedigree and manner of bringing up. My +descent was, as is well-known to many, of a low and inconsiderable +generation, my father's house being of that rank that is meanest and most +despised of all the families in the land. Though my parents put me to +school, to my shame I confess I did soon lose that little I learnt. As for +my own natural life, for the time that I was without God in the world, it +was indeed according to the course of this world, and the spirit that +worketh in the children of disobedience, for from a child I had but few +equals for cursing, lying, and blaspheming. In these days the thoughts of +religion were very grievous to me. I could neither endure it myself, nor +that any other should. But God did not utterly leave me, but followed me +with judgements, yet such as were mixed with mercy.</p> + +<p>Once I fell into a creek of the sea and hardly escaped drowning; and +another time I fell out of a boat into Bedford river, but mercy yet +preserved me alive. When I was a soldier, I and others were drawn to such a +place to besiege it; but when I was ready to go, one of the company desired +to go in my place, to which I consented. Coming to the siege, as he stood +sentinel, he was shot in the head with a musket bullet, and died. Here were +judgement and mercy, but neither of them did awaken my soul to +righteousness.</p> + +<p>Presently, after this I changed my condition into a married state, and +my mercy was to light upon a wife whose father was counted godly. Though we +came together so poor that we had not so much household stuff as a dish or +a spoon betwixt us both, yet she had two books which her father left her +when he died: "The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven," and "The Practice of +Piety." In these I sometimes read with her, and in them found some things +that were pleasing to me, but met with no conviction. Yet through these +books I fell in very eagerly with the religion of the times, to wit, to go +to church twice a day, though yet retaining my wicked life. But one day, as +I was standing at a neighbour's shop-window, cursing after my wonted +manner, the woman of the house protested that she was made to tremble to +hear me, and told me I by thus doing was able to spoil all the youth in the +whole town.</p> + +<p>At this reproof I was put to shame, and that, too, as I thought, before +the God of Heaven. Hanging down my head, I wished with all my heart that I +might be a little child again. How it came to pass I know not, but I did +from this time so leave off my swearing that it was a wonder to myself to +observe it. Soon afterwards I fell in company with one poor man that made +profession of religion. Falling into some liking to what he said, I betook +me to my Bible, especially to the historical part. Wherefore I fell to some +outward reformation, and did strive to keep the commandments, and thus I +continued about a year, all which time our neighbours wondered at seeing +such an alteration in my life. For though I was as yet nothing but a poor +painted hypocrite, I loved to be talked of as one that was godly. Yet, as +my conscience was beginning to be tender, I after a time gave up +bell-ringing and dancing, thinking I could thus the better please God. But, +poor wretch as I was, I was still ignorant of Jesus Christ, and was going +about to establish my own righteousness.</p> + +<p>But upon a day the good providence of God took me to Bedford, to work on +my calling, and in that town I came on three or four poor women sitting at +a door in the sun and talking about the things of God. I listened in +silence while they spoke of the new birth and the work of God on their +hearts. At this I felt my own heart began to shake, for their words +convinced me that I wanted the true tokens of a godly man. I now began to +look into my Bible with new eyes, and became conscious of my lack of faith, +and was often ready to sink with faintness in my mind, lest I should prove +not to be an elect vessel of the mercy of God. I was long vexed with fear, +until one day a sweet light broke in upon me as I came on the words, "Yet +there is room." Still I wavered many months between hopes and fears, though +as to act of sinning I never was more tender than now. I was more loathsome +in my own eyes than a toad, and I thought I was so in God's eyes, too. I +thought none but the devil could equalise me for inward wickedness; and +thus I continued a long while, even some years together. But afterwards the +Lord did more fully and graciously discover Himself to me, and at length I +was indeed put into my right mind, even as other Christians are.</p> + +<p>I remember that one day as I was travelling into the country, and musing +on the wickedness of my heart, that Scripture came to my mind. "He hath +made peace by the blood of His cross." I saw that the justice of God and my +sinful soul could embrace each other through this blood. This was a good +day to me. At this time I sat under the ministry of holy Mr. Gifford, whose +doctrine was, by God's grace, much for my stability. My soul was now led +from truth to truth, even from the birth and cradle of the Son of God to +His ascension and His second coming to judge the world.</p> + +<p>One day there fell into my hands a book of Martin Luther. It was his +"Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians," and the volume was so old +that it was ready to fall to pieces. When I had but a little way perused +it, I found that my condition was in his experience so handled as if his +book had been written out of my heart. I do here wish to set forth that I +do prefer this book of Martin Luther upon the Galatians (excepting the Holy +Bible) before all the books I have ever seen, as most fit for a wounded +conscience. About this time I was beset with tormenting fears that I had +committed the unpardonable sin against the Holy Ghost, and an ancient +Christian to whom I opened my mind told me he thought so, too, which gave +me cold comfort. Thus, by strange and unusual assaults of the tempter was +my soul, like a broken vessel, tossed and driven with winds. There was now +nothing that I longed for but to be put out of doubt as to my full pardon. +One morning when I was at prayer, and trembling under fear that no word of +God could help me, that piece of a sentence darted in upon me: "My grace is +sufficient." By these words I was sweetly sustained for about eight weeks, +though not without conflicts, until at last these same words did break in +with great power suddenly upon me: "My grace is sufficient for thee," +repeated three times, at which my understanding was so enlightened that I +was as though I had seen the Lord Jesus look down from Heaven through the +tiles upon me, and direct these words to me.</p> + +<p>One day, as I was passing in the field, with some dashes on my +conscience, fearing lest yet all was not right, suddenly this sentence fell +upon my soul: "Thy righteousness is in Heaven." I saw in a moment that my +righteousness was not my good frame of heart, but Jesus Christ Himself, +"the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." Now shall I go forward to give +you a relation of other of the Lord's dealings with me. I shall begin with +what I met when I first did join in fellowship with the people of God in +Bedford. Upon a time I was suddenly seized with much sickness, and was +inclining towards consumption. Now I began to give myself up to fresh +serious examination, and there came flocking into my mind an innumerable +company of my sins and transgressions, my soul also being greatly tormented +between these two considerations: Live I must not, die I dare not. But as I +was walking up and down in the house, a man in a most woeful state, that +word of God took hold of my heart: "Ye are justified freely by His grace, +through the redemption that is in Jesus Christ." But oh, what a turn it +made upon me! At this I was greatly lightened in my mind, and made to +understand that God could justify a sinner at any time. And as I was thus +in a muse, that Scripture also came with great power upon my spirit: "Not +by works of righteousness that we have done, but according to His mercy He +hath saved us." Now was I got on high; I saw myself verily within the arms +of grace and mercy; and though I was before afraid to think of a dying +hour, yet now I cried with my whole heart: "Let me die."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Bunyan Becomes a Preacher</i></h4> + + +<p>And now I will thrust in a word or two concerning my preaching of the +Word. For, after I had been about five or six years awakened, some of the +ablest of the saints with us desired me, with much earnestness, to take a +hand sometimes in one of the meetings, and to speak a word of exhortation +unto them. I consented to their request, and did twice at two several +assemblies, though with much weakness, discover my gift to them. At which +they did solemnly protest that they were much affected and comforted, and +gave thanks to the Father of Mercies for the grace bestowed on me. After +this, when some of them did go to the country to teach, they would also +that I should go with them. To be brief, after some solemn prayer to the +Lord with fasting, I was more particularly called forth and appointed to a +more ordinary and public preaching of the Word. Though of myself of all +saints the most unworthy, yet I did set upon the work, and did according to +my gift preach the blessed Gospel, which, when the country people +understood, they came in to hear the Word by hundreds. I had not preached +long before some began to be touched at the apprehension of their need of +Jesus Christ, and to bless God for me as God's instrument that showed the +way of salvation.</p> + +<p>In my preaching I took special notice of this one thing, that the Lord +did lead me to begin where His Word begins with sinners--that is, to +condemn all flesh, because of sin. Thus I went on for about two years, +crying out against men's sins, after which the Lord came in upon my soul +and gave me discoveries of His Blessed grace, wherefore I now altered in my +preaching, and did much labour to hold forth Christ in all His relations, +offices, and benefits unto the world. After this, God led me into something +of the mystery of union with Christ. Wherefore that I discovered to them +also. And when I had travelled through these three chief points of the Word +of God, about five years or more, I was cast into prison, where I have lain +above as long again, to confirm the truth by way of suffering, as before in +testifying of it by preaching according to the Scriptures.</p> + +<p>When I went first to preach the Word, the doctors and priests of the +country did open wide against me. But I was persuaded not to render railing +for railing, but to see how many of their carnal professors I could +convince of their miserable state by the law, and of the want and worth of +Christ. I never cared to meddle with things that were controverted among +the saints, especially things of the lowest nature. I have observed that +where I have had a work to do for God, I have had first, as it were, the +going of God upon my spirit to desire I might preach there. My great desire +in my fulfilling my ministry was to get into the darkest places of the +country, even amongst these people that were furthest off of profession. +But in this work, as in all other work, I had my temptations attending me, +and that of divers kinds. Sometimes when I have been preaching I have been +violently assailed with thoughts of blasphemy, and strangely tempted to +speak the words with my mouth before the congregation. But, I thank the +Lord, I have been kept from consenting to these so horrid suggestions. I +have also, while found in this blessed work of Christ, been often tempted +to pride and liftings up of heart, and this has caused hanging down of the +head under all my gifts and attainments. I have felt this thorn in the +flesh the very mercy of God to me. But when Satan perceived that his thus +tempting and assaulting of me would not answer his design--to wit, to +overthrow my ministry--then he tried another way, which was to load me with +slanders and reproaches. It began, therefore, to be rumoured up and down +the country that I was a witch, a Jesuit, a highwayman, and the like. To +all which I shall only say, God knows that I am innocent. Now, as Satan +laboured to make me vile among my countrymen, that, if possible, my +preaching might be of none effect, so there was added thereto a tedious +imprisonment, of which I shall in my next give you a brief account.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--In a Prison Cell</i></h4> + + +<p>Upon November 12, 1660, I was desired by some of the friends in the +country to come to teach at Samsell, by Harlington, in Bedfordshire, to +whom I made a promise to be with them. The justice, Mr. Francis Wingate, +hearing thereof, forthwith issued out his warrant to take me and bring me +before him. When the constable came in we were, with our Bibles in our +hands, just about to begin our exercise. So that I was taken and forced to +leave the room, but before I went away I spake some words of counsel and +encouragement to the people; for we might have been apprehended as thieves +or murderers. But, blessed be God, we suffer as Christians for well-doing; +and we had better be the persecuted than the persecutors. But the constable +and the justice's man would not be quiet till they had me away. But because +the justice was not at home on that day, a friend of mine engaged to bring +me to the constable next morning; so on that day we went to him, and so to +the justice. He asked the constable what we did where we were met together, +and what we had with us? I know he meant whether we had armour or not; but +when he heard that there were only a few of us, met for preaching and +hearing the Word, he could not well tell what to say. Yet, because he had +sent for me, he did adventure to put a few proposals to me, to this effect: +What did I there? Why did I not content myself with following my calling? +For it was against the law that such as I should be admitted to do as I +did. I answered that my intent was to instruct the people to forsake their +sins and close in with Christ, lest they did perish miserably, and that I +could do both, follow my calling and also preach without confusion.</p> + +<p>At which words he was in a chafe, for he said he would break the neck of +our meetings. I said it might be so. Then he wished me to get sureties to +be bound for me, or else he would send me to the gaol. My sureties being +ready, I called them in, and when the bond for my appearance was made, he +told them that they were bound to keep me from preaching; and that if I did +preach, their bonds would be forfeited. To which I answered that I should +break them, for I should not leave preaching the Word of God. Whereat that +my mittimus must be made, and I sent to the gaol, there to lie till the +quarter sessions.</p> + +<p>After I had lain in the gaol for four or five days, the brethren sought +means again to get me out by bondsmen (for so runs my mittimus--that I +should lie there till I could find sureties). They went to a justice at +Elstow, one Mr. Crumpton, to desire him to take bond for my appearing at +quarter session. At first he told them he would; but afterwards he made a +demur at the business, and desired first to see my mittimus, which ran to +this purpose: That I went about to several conventicles in this country, to +the great disparagement of the government of the Church of England, etc. +When he had seen it, he said there might be something more against me than +was expressed in my mittimus; and that he was but a young man, and, +therefore, he durst not do it. This my gaoler told me; whereat I was not at +all daunted, but rather glad, and saw evidently that the Lord had heard me; +for before I went down to the justice, I begged of God that if I might do +more good by being at liberty than in prison that then I might be set at +liberty; but, if not, His will be done. For I was not altogether without +hopes that my imprisonment might be an awakening to the saints in this +country, therefore I could not tell well which to choose; only I in that +manner did commit the thing to God. And verily, at my return, I did meet my +God sweetly in the prison again, comforting of me and satisfying of me that +it was His will and mind that I should be there.</p> + +<p>When I came back to prison, when I was musing at the slender answer of +the justice, this word dropped in upon my heart with some life: "For He +knew that for envy they had delivered him."</p> + +<p>Thus have I, in short, declared the manner and occasion of my being in +prison, where I lie waiting the good will of God, to do with me as he +pleaseth; knowing that not one hair of my head can fall to the ground +without the will of my Father.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Bunyan's Story Supplemented</i></h4> + + +<p>The continuation by an intimate friend of Bunyan, written +anonymously.</p> + +<p>Reader--The painful and industrious author of this book has given you a +faithful and very moving relation of the beginning and middle of the days +of his pilgrimage on earth. As a true and intimate acquaintance of Mr. +Bunyan's, that his good end may be known, as well as his evil beginning, I +have taken upon me to piece this to the thread too soon broke off.</p> + +<p>After his being freed from his twelve years' imprisonment, wherein he +had time to furnish the world with sundry good books, etc., and by his +patience to move Dr. Barlow, the then Bishop of Lincoln, and other +churchmen, to pity his hard and unreasonable sufferings so far as to +procure his enlargement, or there perhaps he had died by the noisomeness +and ill-usage of the place. Being again at liberty, he went to visit those +who had been a comfort to him in his tribulation, giving encouragement by +his example, if they happened to fall into affliction or trouble, then to +suffer patiently for the sake of a good conscience, so that the people +found a wonderful consolation in his discourse and admonition.</p> + +<p>As often as opportunity would permit, he gathered them together in +convenient places, though the law was then in force against meetings, and +fed them with the sincere milk of the Word, that they might grow in grace +thereby. He sent relief to such as were anywhere taken and imprisoned on +these accounts. He took great care to visit the sick, nor did he spare any +pains or labour in travel though to the remote counties, where any might +stand in need of his assistance.</p> + +<p>When in the late reign liberty of conscience was unexpectedly given, he +gathered his congregation at Bedford, where he mostly lived and had spent +most of his life. Here a new and larger meeting-house was built, and when, +for the first time, he appeared there to edify, the place was so thronged +that many were constrained to stay without, though the house was very +spacious.</p> + +<p>Here he lived in much peace and quiet of mind, contenting himself with +that little God had bestowed on him, and sequestering himself from all +secular employments to follow that of his call to the ministry.</p> + +<p>During these things there were regulators sent into all the cities and +towns corporate, to new model the government in the magistracy, etc., by +turning out some and putting in others. Against this Mr. Bunyan expressed +zeal with some weariness, and laboured with his congregation to prevent +their being imposed on in this kind. And when a great man in those days, +coming to Bedford upon such an errand, sent for him, as it is supposed, to +give him a place of public trust, he would by no means come at him, but +sent his excuse.</p> + +<p>When he was at leisure from writing and teaching, he often came up to +London, and there went among the congregations of the Nonconformists, and +used his talent to the great good-liking of the hearers. Thus he spent his +latter years. But let me come a little nearer to particulars of time. After +he was sensibly convicted of the wicked state of his life and converted, he +was baptised into the congregation, and admitted a member thereof in the +year 1655, and became speedily a very zealous professor. But upon the +return of King Charles II. to the Crown in 1660, he was on November 12 +taken as he was edifying some good people, and confined in Bedford Gaol for +the space of six years; till the Act of Indulgence to dissenters being +allowed, he obtained his freedom by the intercession of some in power that +took pity on his sufferings; but was again taken up, and was then confined +for six years more. He was chosen to the care of the congregation at +Bedford on December 12, 1671. In this charge he often had disputed with +scholars that came to oppose him, as thinking him an ignorant person; but +he confuted, and put to silence, one after another, all his method being to +keep close to Scripture.</p> + +<p>At length, worn out with sufferings, age, and often teaching, the day of +his dissolution drew near. Riding to Reading in order to plead with a young +man's father for reconciliation to him, he journeyed on his return by way +of London, where, through being overtaken by excessive rains and coming to +his lodgings extremely wet, he fell sick of a violent fever, which he bore +with much constancy and patience. Finding his vital strength decay, he +resigned his soul into the hands of his most merciful Redeemer, following +his Pilgrim from the City of Destruction to the New Jerusalem. He died at +the house of one Mr. Straddocks, a grocer, at the Star on Snow Hill, in the +Parish of St. Sepulchre, London, in the sixtieth year of his age, after ten +days' sickness; and was buried in the new burying ground in Artillery +Place.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_CARLYLE"></a>ALEXANDER CARLYLE</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Autobiography1"></a>Autobiography</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Alexander Carlyle, minister of the Church of Scotland and +author of the celebrated "Autobiography," was born at Cummmertrees Manse, +Dumfriesshire, on January 26, 1722, and died at Inveresk on August 25, +1805. His commanding appearance won for him the sobriquet of "Jupiter +Carlyle," and Sir Walter Scott spoke of him as "the grandest demi-god I +ever saw." He was greatly respected in Scotland as a wise and tolerant man, +where too many were narrow, bitter, and inquisitorial. With regard to +freedom in religious thought he was in advance of his time, and brought the +clerical profession into greater respect by showing himself a cultured man +of the world as well as a leader of his Church. Carlyle, however, would +hardly be remembered now but for the glimpses which his book gives of +contemporary persons and manners. The work was first edited in 1860 by John +Hill Burton. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--In the Days of Prince Charlie</i></h4> + + +<p>I have been too late in beginning this work, as I have entered on the +seventy-ninth year of my age, but I will endeavour, with God's blessing, to +serve posterity to the best of my ability with such a faithful picture of +times and characters as came within my view in the humble and private +sphere of life in which I have always acted.</p> + +<p>My father, minister of Prestonpans, was of a warm and benevolent temper, +and an orthodox and eloquent orator. My mother was a person of an elegant +and reflecting mind, and was as much respected as my father was beloved. +Until 1732, when I was ten years of age, they were in very narrow +circumstances, but in that year the stipend was raised from £70 to +£140 per annum. In 1735 I was sent to college.</p> + +<p>Yielding to parental wishes, I consented, in 1738, to become a student +of divinity, and pursued my studies in Edinburgh and, from 1743, in +Glasgow, passing my trials in the presbytery of Haddington in the summer of +1745. Early in September I was at Moffat, when I heard that the Chevalier +Prince Charles had landed in the north. I repaired to Edinburgh, and joined +a company of volunteers for the defence of the city. Edinburgh was in great +ferment, and of divided allegiance; there was no news of the arrival of Sir +John Cope with the government forces; the Highlanders came on, no +resistance was made, and the city surrendered on the sixteenth. That night, +my brother and I walked along the sands to Prestonpans, and carried the +news. Proceeding to Dunbar, where Sir John Cope's army lay, I inquired for +Colonel Gardiner, whom I found very dejected.</p> + +<p>"Sandie," said Colonel Gardiner, "I'll tell you in confidence that I +have not above ten men in my regiment whom I am certain will follow me. But +we must give them battle now, and God's will be done!"</p> + +<p>Cope's small army was totally defeated at Prestonpans on the morning of +the twenty-first. I heard the first cannon that was fired, and started to +my clothes. My father had been up before daylight, and had resorted to the +steeple. I ran into the garden. Within ten minutes after firing the first +cannon the whole prospect was filled with runaways, and Highlanders +pursuing them. The next week I saw Prince Charles twice in Edinburgh. He +was a good-looking man; his hair was dark red and his eyes black. His +features were regular, his visage long, much sunburnt and freckled, and his +countenance thoughtful and melancholy.</p> + +<p>In October of the same year I went to Leyden, to study at the university +there. Here there were twenty-two British students, among them the +Honourable Charles Townshend, afterwards a distinguished statesman, and Mr. +Doddeswell, afterwards Chancellor of the Exchequer. We passed our time very +agreeably, and very profitably, too; for the conversations at our evening +meetings of young men of good knowledge could not fail to be instructive, +much more so than the lectures, which were very dull. On my return from +Holland, I was introduced by my cousin, Captain Lyon, to some families of +condition in London, and was carried to court of an evening, for George II. +at that time had evening drawing rooms, where his majesty and Princess +Amelia, who had been a lovely woman, played at cards.</p> + +<p>I had many agreeable parties with the officers of the Horse Guards, who +were all men of the world, and some of them of erudition and understanding. +I was introduced to Smollett at this time, and was in the coffee-house with +him when the news of the Battle of Culloden came, and when London all over +was in a perfect uproar of joy. The theatres were not very attractive this +season, as Garrick had gone over to Dublin; but there remained Mrs. +Pritchard, Mrs. Clive, and Macklin, who were all excellent in their way. Of +the literary people I met with I must not forget Thomson, the poet, and Dr. +Armstrong.</p> + +<p>In June, 1746, I was licensed to preach by the Presbytery of Haddington, +and was ordained minister of Inveresk on August 2, 1748. There were many +resident families of distinction, and my situation was envied as superior +to that of most clergymen for agreeable society. As one of the "Moderate" +party, I now became much implicated in ecclesiastical politics. Dr. +Robertson, John Home, and I had an active hand in the restoration of the +authority of the General Assembly over the Presbyteries.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Literary Lions of Edinburgh</i></h4> + + +<p>It was in one of these years that Smollett visited Scotland, and came +out to Musselburgh. He was a man of very agreeable conversation and of much +genuine humour, and, though not a profound scholar, possessed a +philosophical mind, and was capable of making the soundest observations on +human life, and of discerning the excellence or seeing the ridicule of +every character he met with. Fielding only excelled him in giving a +dramatic story to his novels, but was inferior to him in the true comic +vein. At this time David Hume was living in Edinburgh, and composing his +"History of Great Britain." He was a man of great knowledge, and of a +social and benevolent temper, and truly the best-natured man in the +world.</p> + +<p>I was one of those who never believed that David Hume's sceptical +principles had laid fast hold on his mind, but thought that his books +proceeded rather from affectation of superiority and pride of +understanding. When his circumstances were narrow, he accepted the office +of librarian to the Faculty of Advocates, worth £40 per annum, and to +my certain knowledge he gave every farthing of the salary to families in +distress. For innocent mirth and agreeable raillery I never knew his +match.</p> + +<p>Adam Smith, though perhaps only second to David in learning and +ingenuity, was far inferior to him in conversational talents. He was the +most absent man in company that I ever saw, moving his lips, and talking to +himself, and smiling, in the midst of large companies. If you awaked him +from his reverie and made him attend to the subject of conversation, he +immediately began a harangue, and never stopped till he told you all he +knew about it, with the utmost philosophical ingenuity. Though Smith had +some little jealousy in his temper, he had the most unbounded +benevolence.</p> + +<p>Dr. Adam Ferguson was a very different kind of man. He had been chaplain +to the 42nd, adding all the decorum belonging to the clerical character to +the manners of a gentleman, the effect of which was that he was highly +respected by all the officers, and adored by his countrymen and the common +soldiers. His office turned his mind to the study of war, which appears in +his "Roman History," where many of the battles are better described than by +any historian but Polybius, who was an eyewitness to so many. He had a +boundless vein of humour, which he indulged when none but intimates were +present; but he was apt to be jealous of his rivals and indignant against +assumed superiority.</p> + +<p>They were all honourable men in the highest degree, and John Home and I +together kept them on very good terms. With respect to taste, we held David +Hume and Adam Smith inferior to the rest, for they were both prejudiced in +favour of the French tragedies, and did not sufficiently appreciate +Shakespeare and Milton; their taste was a rational act rather than the +instantaneous effect of fine feeling. In John Home's younger days he had +much sprightliness and vivacity, so that he infused joy wherever he came. +But all his opinions of men and things were prejudices, which, however, did +not disqualify him for writing admirable poetry.</p> + +<p>In 1754, the Select Society was established, which improved and gave a +name to the <i>literati</i> of this country. Of the first members were Lord +Dalmeny, elder brother of the present Lord Rosebery; the Duke of Hamilton +of that period, a man of letters could he have kept himself sober; and Mr. +Robert Alexander, wine merchant, a very worthy man but a bad speaker, who +entertained us all with warm suppers and excellent claret. In the month of +February, 1755, John Home's tragedy of "Douglas" was completely prepared +for the stage, and he set out with it for London, attended by six or seven +of us. Were I to relate all the circumstances of this journey, I am +persuaded they would not be exceeded by any novelist who has wrote since +the days of "Don Quixote." Poor Home had no success, for Garrick, after +reading the play, returned it as totally unfit for the stage. "Douglas," +however, was acted in Edinburgh in 1756, and had unbounded success for many +nights; but the "high-flying" set in the Church were unanimous against it, +as they thought it a sin for a clergyman to write any play, let it be ever +so moral. I was summoned before the Presbytery for my conduct in attending +the play, but was exonerated by the General Assembly.</p> + +<p>About the end of February, 1758, I went to London with my sister +Margaret to get her married with Dr. Dickson. It is to be noted that we +could get no four-wheeled chaise till we came to Durham, those conveyances +being then only in their infancy, and turnpike roads being only in their +commencement in the North. Dr. Robertson having come to London to offer his +"History of Scotland" for sale, we went to see the lions together. Home was +now very friendly with Garrick, and I was often in company with this +celebrated actor.</p> + +<p>Garrick gave a dinner to John Home and his friends at his house at +Hampton, and told us to bring golf clubs and balls that we might play on +Molesey Hurst. Garrick had built a handsome temple with a statue of +Shakespeare in it on the banks of the Thames. The poet and the actor were +well pleased with one another, and we passed a very agreeable +afternoon.</p> + +<p>We yielded to a request of Sir David Kinloch to accompany him on a jaunt +to Portsmouth, and were much pleased with the diversified beauty of the +country. We viewed with much pleasure the solid foundation of the naval +glory of Great Britain, in the amazing extent and richness of the dockyards +and warehouses, and in the grandeur of her fleet in the harbour and in the +Downs. There was a fine fleet of ten ships of the line in the Downs, with +the Royal George at their head, all ready for sea.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Scottish Social Life</i></h4> + + +<p>The clergy of Scotland, being under apprehensions that the window tax +would be extended to them, had given me in charge to state our case to some +of the Ministers, and try to make an impression in our favour. The day came +when we were presented to Lord Bute, but our reception was cold and dry. We +soon took our leave, and no sooner were we out of hearing than Robert Adam, +the architect, who was with us, fell a-cursing and swearing--"What! had he +been most graciously received by all the princes in Italy and France, to +come and be treated with such distance and pride by the youngest earl but +one in all Scotland?" They were better friends afterwards, and Robert found +him a kind patron when his professional merit was made known to him. Lord +Bute was a worthy and virtuous man, but he was not versatile enough for a +Prime Minister; and though personally brave, was void of that political +firmness which is necessary to stand the storms of state. We returned to +Scotland by Oxford, Warwick, and Birmingham.</p> + +<p>In August, 1758, I rode to Inverary, being invited by the Milton family, +who always were with the Duke of Argyll. We sat down every day fifteen or +sixteen to dinner, and the duke had the talent of conversing with his +guests so as to distinguish men of knowledge and ability without neglecting +those who valued themselves on their birth and their rent-rolls. After the +ladies were withdrawn and he had drunk his bottle of claret, he retired to +an easy-chair by the fireplace; drawing a black silk nightcap over his +eyes, he slept, or seemed to sleep, for an hour and a half.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the toastmaster pushed about the bottle, and a more +noisy or regardless company could hardly be. Dinner was always served at +two o'clock, and about six o'clock the toastmaster and the gentlemen drew +off, when the ladies returned, and his grace awoke and called for his tea. +Tea being over, he played two rubbers at sixpenny whist. Supper was served +soon after nine, and he drank another bottle of claret, and could not be +got to go to bed till one in the morning. I stayed over Sunday and preached +to his grace. The ladies told me that I had pleased him, which gratified me +not a little, as without him no preferment could be obtained in +Scotland.</p> + +<p>It was after this that I wrote what was called the "Militia Pamphlet," +which had a great and unexpected success; it hit the tone of the country, +which was irritated at the refusal to allow the establishment of a militia +in Scotland.</p> + +<p>The year 1760 was the most important of my life, for before the end of +it I was united with the most valuable friend and companion that any mortal +ever possessed. I owed my good fortune to the friendship of John Home, who +pointed out the young lady to me as a proper object of suit, without which +I should never have attempted it, for she was then just past seventeen, +when I was thirty-eight. With a superior understanding and great +discernment for her age, she had an ease and propriety of manners which +made her much distinguished in every company. She had not one selfish +corner in her whole soul, and was willing to sacrifice her life for those +she loved.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="THOMAS_CARLYLE"></a>THOMAS CARLYLE</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Letters_and_Speeches_of_Oliver_Cromwell"></a>Letters and +Speeches of Oliver Cromwell</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Thomas Carlyle, the celebrated literary moralist, was born +at Ecclefechan, Scotland, Dec. 4, 1795. He was educated at the village +school and at the Annan Grammar School, proceeding to Edinburgh University +in 1809. The breakdown of his dogmatic beliefs made it impossible for him +to enter the clerical profession, and neither school-teaching nor the study +of law attracted him. Supporting himself by private teaching, Carlyle made +the beginnings of a literary connection. He fought his way under great +difficulties; he was hard to govern; he was a painfully slow writer; and +ignorance and rusticity mar his work to the very end. Yet a fiery revolt +against impostures, an ardent sympathy for humanity, a worship of the +heroic, an immutable confidence in the eternal verities, and occasionally a +wonderful perception of beauty, made Carlyle one of the most influential +English writers of the nineteenth century. His marriage in 1826 with Jane +Baillie Welsh was an unhappy one. Carlyle died on February 4, 1881, having +survived his wife fifteen years. The three volumes of "Cromwell's Letters +and Speeches," with elucidations by Carlyle, were published in 1845; the +first work, one might say, conveying a sympathetic appreciation of the +great Protector, all histories of the man and his times having been +hitherto written from the point of view either of the Royalists or of the +revolutionary Whigs. To neither of these was an understanding of Puritanism +at all possible. Moreover, to the Cavaliers, Cromwell was a regicide; to +the Whigs he was a military usurper who dissolved parliaments. To both he +was a Puritan who applied Biblical phraseology to practical +affairs--therefore, a canting hypocrite, though undoubtedly a man of great +capacity and rugged force. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Puritan Oliver</i></h4> + + +<p>One wishes there were a history of English Puritanism, the last of all +our heroisms. At bottom, perhaps, no nobler heroism ever transacted itself +upon this earth; and it lies as good as lost to us in the elysium we +English have provided for our heroes! The Rushworthian elysium. Dreariest +continent of shot-rubbish the eye ever saw. Puritanism is not of the +nineteenth century, but of the seventeenth; it is grown unintelligible, +what we may call incredible. Heroes who knew in every fibre, and with +heroic daring laid to heart, that an Almighty justice does verily rule this +world; that it is good to fight on God's side, and bad to fight on the +devil's side. Well, it would seem the resuscitation of a heroism from the +past is no easy enterprise.</p> + +<p>Of Biographies of Cromwell, there are none tolerable. Oliver's father +was a country gentleman of good estate, not a brewer; grandson of Sir +Richard Cromwell, or Williams, nephew of Thomas Cromwell "mauler of +monasteries"; his mother a Stuart (Steward), twelfth cousin or so of King +Charles. He was born in 1599, went to Cambridge in the month that +Shakespeare died. Next year his father died, and Oliver went no more to +Cambridge. He was the only son. In 1620 he married.</p> + +<p>He sat in the Parliament of 1628-29; the Petition of Right Parliament; a +most brave and noble Parliament, ending with that scene when Holles held +the Speaker down in his chair. The last Parliament in England for above +eleven years. Notable years, what with soap-monopoly, ship-money, death of +the great Gustavus at Lûtzen, pillorying of William Prynne, Jenny Geddes, +and National Covenant, old Field-Marshal Lesley at Dunse Law and +pacification thereafter nowise lasting.</p> + +<p>To chastise the Scots, money is not attainable save by a Parliament, +which at last the king summons. This "Short Parliament," wherein Oliver +sits for Cambridge, is dismissed, being not prompt with supplies, which the +king seeks by other methods. But the army so raised will not fight the +Scots, who march into Northumberland and Durham. Money not to be had +otherwise than by a Parliament, which is again summoned; the Long +Parliament, which did not finally vanish till 1660. In which is Oliver +again, "very much hearkened unto," despite "linen plain and not very clean, +and voice sharp and untuneable."</p> + +<p>Protestations; execution of Strafford, "the one supremely able man the +king had"; a hope of compromise being for a time introduced by "royal +varnish." Then, in November, 1641, an Irish rebellion blazing into Irish +massacre; and in Parliament, the Grand Remonstrance carried by a small +majority. In January, the king rides over to St. Stephen's to arrest the +"five members." Then on one side Commissions of Array, on the other +Ordinance for the Militia. In July and August, Mr. Cromwell is active in +Cambridgeshire for the defence of that county, as others are elsewhere. +Then Captain Cromwell, with his troop of horse, is with Essex at Edgehill, +where he does his duty; and then back in Cambridgeshire, organising the +Eastern Association. So we are at 1643 with the war in full swing.</p> + +<p>Letters have been few enough so far; vestiges, traces of Cromwell's +doings in the eastern counties; a successful skirmish at Grantham, a +"notable victory" at Gainsborough. In August, Manchester takes command of +the Association, with Cromwell for one of his colonels; in September, first +battle of Newbury, and signing of the Solemn League and Covenant at +Westminster. Cromwell has written "I have a lovely company; you would +respect them did you know them"--his "Ironsides." In October, Colonel +Cromwell does stoutly at Winceby fight; has his horse shot under him. +Lincolnshire is nearly cleared.</p> + +<p>On March 20, 1643, there is a characteristic letter to General Crawford, +concerning the dismissal of an officer, whom Cromwell would have restored. +"Ay, but the man is an Anabaptist. Are you sure of that? Admit he be, shall +that render him incapable to serve the public? Sir, the state, in choosing +men to serve it, takes no notice of their opinions. Take heed of being too +sharp against those to whom you can object little but that they square not +with you in every opinion concerning matters of religion."</p> + +<p>In July was fought, in Yorkshire, the battle of Marston Moor, the +bloodiest of the whole war, which gave the whole north to the Parliamentary +party. Cromwell Writes to his brother-in-law, to tell him of his son's +death. Of the battle, he says, "It had all the evidences of an absolute +victory obtained by the Lord's blessing upon the godly party. We never +charged but we routed the enemy. God made them as stubble to our swords." +Soon after he is indignant with Manchester for being "much slow in action," +especially after the second battle of Newbury. Hence comes the self-denying +ordinance, in December, and construction of New Model Army.</p> + +<p>From which ordinance Cromwell is virtually dispensed, being appointed +for repeated periods of forty days, and doing good work in Oxfordshire and +elsewhere; clearly indispensable, till the Lord General Fairfax gets him +appointed Lieutenant-general; and on his joining Fairfax, and commanding +the cavalry, the king's army is shattered at Naseby. "We killed and took +about 5,000," writes Cromwell to Lenthall. "Sir, this is none other but the +hand of God."</p> + +<p>Thenceforward, this war is only completing of the victory. After the +storming of Bristol, Cromwell writes, "Presbyterians, Independents, all +have here the same spirit of faith and prayer; they agree here, have no +names of difference; pity it is it should be otherwise anywhere." No +canting here!</p> + +<p>Cromwell captures Winchester, and Baring House, and sundry other +strongholds. Finally, this first civil war is ended with the king's +surrender of himself to the Scots.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Regicide</i></h4> + + +<p>Thereafter, infinite negotiations, public and private; the king hoping +"so to draw, either the Presbyterians or the Independents, to side with me +for extirpating one another that I shall be really king again." Ending with +the Scots marching home, and the king being secluded in Holmby House. We +note during this time a letter to Bridget Cromwell, now the wife of General +Ireton.</p> + +<p>But now Parliament is busy carrying its Presbyterian uniformity +platform. London city and the Parliament are crying out to apply the shears +against sectaries and schismatics; the army is less drastic; shows, indeed, +an undue tolerance to Presbyterian alarm. With Cromwell's approval the army +is to be quartered not less than twenty-five miles from London. This +quarrel between army and Parliament waxes; the army gains strength by +securing the person of the king, finally marches onto London, and gets its +way. All is turmoil again, however, when Charles escapes from Hampton +Court, where they have lodged him, but is detained at Carisbrooke. When +40,000 Scots are coming to liberate the king, the army's patience breaks +down. Hitherto, Cromwell has striven for an honest settlement. Now we of +the army conclude, with prayer and tears, that these troubles are a penalty +for our backslidings, conferences, compromises, and the like; that "if the +Lord bring us back in peace," Charles Stuart, the Man of Blood, must be +called to account.</p> + +<p>The eastern counties and Wales are up; the Scots are coming. Fairfax +goes to Colchester, Cromwell to Wales, where Pembroke keeps him a month; +thence, to cut up the Scots army in detail in the straggling battle called +Preston, of which he gives account, as also does "Dugald Dalgetty" Turner. +The clearance of the north detains him for some time, during which he deals +sternly with soldiers who plunder. In November he is returning from +Scotland, writing, too, a suitable letter to Colonel Hammond, the king's +custodian at Carisbrooke. Matters also are coming to a head between army +and the Parliament, which means to make concessions--fatal in the judgement +of the army--and to ignore the said army; which, on the other hand, regards +itself as an authority called into being by God and having +responsibilities, and purges the Parliament, Cromwell arriving in town on +the evening of the first day of purging. Whereby the minority of the +members is become majority. And this chapter of history is grimly closed +eight weeks later with a certain death warrant.</p> + +<p>The Rump Parliament becomes concerned with establishment of the +Commonwealth Council of State; appoints Mr. Milton Secretary for Foreign +Languages, and nominates Lieutenant-general Cromwell to quell rebellion in +Ireland. Oliver's extant letters are concerned with domestic +matters--marriage of Richard. While the army for Ireland is getting +prepared, there is trouble with the Levellers, sansculottism of a sort; +shooting of valiant but misguided mutineers having notions as to +Millennium.</p> + +<p>On August 15, Cromwell is in Ireland. His later letters have been full +of gentle domesticities and pieties, strangely contrasted with the fiery +savagery and iron grimness of the next batch. Derry and Dublin are the only +two cities held for the Commonwealth. The Lord-lieutenant comes offering +submission with law and order, or death. The Irish have no faith in +promises; will not submit. Therefore, in the dispatches which tell the +story, we find a noteworthy phenomenon--an armed soldier, solemnly +conscious to himself that he is the soldier of God the Just, terrible as +death, relentless as doom, doing God's judgements on the enemies of +God.</p> + +<p>Tredah, that is Drogheda, is his first objective, with its garrison of +3,000 soldiers. Drogheda is summoned to surrender on pain of storm; +refuses, is stormed, no quarter being given to the armed garrison, mostly +English. "I believe this bitterness will save much effusion of blood +through the goodness of God." The garrison of Dundalk, not liking the +precedent, evacuated it; that of Trim likewise. No resistance, in fact, was +offered till Cromwell came before Wexford. After suffering a cannonade, the +commandant proposed to evacuate Wexford on terms which "manifested the +impudency of the men." Oliver would only promise quarter to rank and file. +Before any answer came, the soldiery stormed the town, which Cromwell had +not intended; but he looked upon the outcome as "an unexpected +providence."</p> + +<p>The rule of sending a summons to surrender before attacking was always +observed, and rarely disregarded. "I meddle not with any man's conscience; +but if liberty of conscience means liberty to exercise the mass, that will +not be allowed of." The Clonmacnoise Manifesto, inviting the Irish "not to +be deceived with any show of clemency exercised upon them hitherto," hardly +supports the diatribes against Cromwell's "massacring" propensities. Also +in Cromwell's counter-declaration is a pregnant challenge. "Give us an +instance of one man since my coming to Ireland, not in arms, massacred, +destroyed, or banished, concerning the massacre or destruction of whom +justice hath not been done or endeavoured to be done."</p> + +<p>That the business at Drogheda and Wexford did prevent much effusion of +blood is manifest from the surrenders which invariably followed almost +immediately upon summons. The last he reports is Kilkenny (March, 1650); +his actual last fight is the storm of Clonmel; for, at the request of +Parliament, he returns to England to attend to other matters of gravity, +Munster and Leinster being now practically under control.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Crowning Mercies</i></h4> + + +<p>Matters of gravity indeed; for Scotland, the prime mover in this +business of Puritanism, has for leaders Argyles, Loudons, and others of the +pedant species; no inspired Oliver. So these poor Scotch governors have +tried getting Charles II. to adopt the Covenant as best he can--have +"compelled him to sign it voluntarily." Scotland will either invade us or +be invaded by us--which we decide to be preferable. Cromwell must go, since +Fairfax will not resign his command in favour of Cromwell; who does go, +with the hundred-and-tenth psalm in the head and heart of him.</p> + +<p>So he marches by way of Berwick to Musselburgh, where he finds David +Lesley entrenched in impregnable lines between him and Edinburgh. He writes +to the General Assembly of the Kirk in protest against a declaration of +theirs. "Is it, therefore, infallibly agreeable to the Word of God, all +that you say? I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible +that you may be mistaken." But shrewd Lesley lies within his lines, will +not be tempted out; provisions are failing, and the weather breaking. We +must fall back on Dunbar--where Lesley promptly hems us in, occupying the +high ground.</p> + +<p>But presently Lesley, at whatsoever urging, moves to change ground, +which movement gives Oliver his chance. He attacks instead of awaiting +attack; the Scots army is scattered, 3,000 killed and 10,000 prisoners +taken. Such is Dunbar Battle, or Dunbar Drove. Edinburgh is ours, though +the Castle holds out; surrenders only on December 19, on most honourable +terms. But what to do with Scotland, with its covenanted king, a solecism +incarnate?</p> + +<p>We have a most wifely letter to Cromwell from his wife, urging him to +write oftener to herself and to important persons: correspondence +concerning Dunbar medal, and Chancellorship of Oxford University; and the +lord general falls ill, with recoveries and relapses.</p> + +<p>Active military movements, however, become imperative, so far as the +general's health permits. In spring and early summer is some successful +skirmishing; in July Cromwell's army has, for the most part, got into Fife, +thereby cutting off the supplies of the king's army at Stirling, which +suddenly marches straight for the heart of England, the way being open. +Cromwell, having just captured Perth, starts in pursuit, leaving George +Monk to look after Scotland.</p> + +<p>The Scots march by the Lancashire route, keeping good discipline, but +failing to gather the Presbyterian allies or Royalist allies they had +looked for. On August 22, Charles erects his standard at Worcester--ninth +anniversary of the day Charles I. erected his at Nottingham. On the +anniversary of Dunbar fight his Scotch army is crushed, battling +desperately at Worcester; cut to pieces, with six or seven thousand +prisoners taken. Cromwell calls it "for aught I know, a crowning mercy," +and fears lest "the fullness of these continued mercies may occasion pride +and wantonness." Charles, however, escapes. The general here sheaths his +war-sword for good, and comes to town, to be greeted with acclamations.</p> + +<p>Of the next nineteen months the history becomes very dim. There are but +five letters, none notable. The Rump sits, conspicuous with red-tapery; +does not get itself dissolved nor anything else done of consequence; leaves +much that is of consequence not done. Before twelve months the officers are +petitioning the lord general that something be done for a new +Representative House; to be, let us say, a sort of Convention of Notables. +At any rate, in April, 1653, the Rump propose to solve the problem by +continuing themselves; till the lord general ejects them summarily in a +manner that need not here be retold. With this for consequence, that +Cromwell himself, "with the advice of my Council of Officers," nominates +divers persons to form the new Parliament, which shall be hereafter known +as "Bare-bones."</p> + +<p>In this Parliament, which included not a few notable men, Cromwell made +the first speech extant, justifying his dismissal of the Rump, and the +summoning of this assembly, chosen as being godly men that have principles. +A speech intelligible to the intelligent. But this Parliament failed of its +business, which is no less than introducing the Christian religion into +real practice in the social affairs of this nation; and dissolved itself +after five months. Four days later the Instrument of Government is issued, +naming Oliver Protector of the Commonwealth, Council of Fifteen, and other +needful matters.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Protector Oliver</i></h4> + + +<p>A new Reformed Parliament, elected, with Scotch and Irish +representatives, is to meet on September 3. Parliament meets. Oliver's +speech on September 3 is unreported, but we have that on September 4, and +another eight days later. "You are met for healing and settling. We are +troubled with those who would destroy liberty, and with those who would +overturn all control. This government which has called you, a Free +Parliament, together, has given you peace instead of the foreign wars that +were going on; there remains plenty for you to do." But the Parliament, +instead of doing it, sets to debating the "Form of Government" and its +sanctioning.</p> + +<p>Hence our second speech. "I called not myself to this place. God be +judge between me and all men! I desired to be dismissed of my charge. That +was refused me. Being entreated, I did accept the place and title of +Protector. I do not bear witness to myself. My witnesses are the officers, +the soldiery, the City of London, the counties, the judges; yea, you +yourselves, who have come hither upon my writ. I was the authority that +called you, which you have recognised. I will not have the authority +questioned, nor its fundamental powers. You must sign a declaration of +fidelity to the constitution, or you shall not enter the Parliament +House."</p> + +<p>The Parliament, however, will not devote itself to business; will turn +off on side issues, and continue constitution debating. Therefore, at the +end of five months lunar, not calendar, the Protector makes another speech. +"You have healed nothing, settled nothing; dissettlement and division, +discontent and dissatisfaction are multiplied; real dangers, too, from +Cavalier party, and Anabaptist Levellers. Go!"</p> + +<p>First Protectorate Parliament being ended, the next is not due yet +awhile. The Lord Protector must look to matters which are threatening; +plots on all hands, issuing in Penruddock's insurrection, which is +vigorously dealt with. No easy matter to upset this Protector. He, with his +Council of State, establishes military administration under ten +major-generals; arbitrary enough, but beneficial.</p> + +<p>For war, money is needed, and the second Protectorate Parliament is +summoned--mostly favourable to Cromwell. The Protector addresses it. "We +have enemies about us; the greatest is the Spaniard, because he is the +enemy of God, and has been ours from the time of Queen Elizabeth. +Therefore, we are at war with Spain, all Protestant interests being therein +at one with ours. Danger also there is at home, both from Cavaliers and +Levellers, which necessitates us to erect the major-generals. For these +troubles, the remedies are in the first place to prosecute the war with +Spain vigorously; and in the second, not to make religion a pretension for +arms and blood. All men who believe in Jesus Christ are members of Jesus +Christ; whoever hath this faith, let his form be what it will, whether he +be under Baptism, or of the Independent judgement, or of the Presbyterian." +With much more. A speech rude, massive, genuine, like a block of unbeaten +gold. But the speech being spoken, members find that, after all, near a +hundred of them shall have no admittance to this Parliament, seeing that +this time the nation shall and must be settled.</p> + +<p>For its wise temper and good practical tendency let us praise this +second Parliament; admit, nevertheless, that its history amounts to +little--that it handsomely did nothing, and left Oliver to do. But it does +propose to modify our constitution, increase the Protector's powers--make +him, in fact, a king--make also a second chamber. To the perturbation of +sundry officers. Out of confusion of documents and speeches and conferences +we extract this--that his highness is not, on the whole, willing to be +called king, because this will give offence to many godly persons, and be a +cause of stumbling.</p> + +<p>The petition being settled, Parliament is prorogued till January, 1658; +when there will be a House of Lords (not the old Peers!), and the excluded +members will be admitted. May there not then be new troubles? The Spanish +Charles Stuart invasion plot is indeed afoot, and that union abroad of the +Protestant powers for which we crave is by no means accomplished. +Therefore, says the Protector, you must be ready to fight on land as well +as by sea. No time this for disunion, trumpery quarrels over points of +form. Yet such debate has begun and continues.</p> + +<p>After this dissolution speech, and a letter as to Vaudois persecution, +there are no more letters or speeches. On September 3, 1658, for him "the +ugly evil is all over, and thy part in it manfully done--manfully and +fruitfully, to all eternity." Oliver is gone, and with him England's +Puritanism.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="The_Life_of_Friedrich_Schiller"></a>The Life of Friedrich +Schiller</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Carlyle was under thirty years of age, and was occupied as +a private tutor, when he wrote the "Life of Friedrich Schiller; +comprehending an examination of his works," which had been commissioned by +the "London Magazine." It was his first essay in the study of German +literature, which he did so much to popularise in Britain. It appeared in +book form in 1825, and a second edition was published in 1845 in order to +prevent piratical reprints. In his introduction to the second edition, +Carlyle pleads for the indulgence of the reader, asking him to remember +constantly that "it was written twenty years ago." It has indeed been +superseded by more temperate studies of Schiller, but its tone of +enthusiasm gives it a great value of its own. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>Schiller's Youth</i></h4> <h4>(1759-1784)</h4> + + +<p>Distinguished alike for the splendour of his intellectual faculties, and +the elevation of his tastes and feelings, Friedrich Schiller has left +behind him in his works a noble emblem of these great qualities. Much of +his life was deformed by inquietude and disease, and it terminated at +middle age; he composed in a language then scarcely settled into form; yet +his writings are remarkable for their extent, their variety, and their +intrinsic excellence, and his own countrymen are not his only, or, perhaps, +his principal admirers.</p> + +<p>Born on November 10, 1759, a few months later than Robert Burns, he was +a native of Marbach in Würtemberg. His father had been a surgeon in +the army, and was now in the pay of the Duke of Würtemberg; and the +benevolence, integrity and devoutness of his parents were expanded and +beautified in the character of their son. His education was irregular; +desiring at first to enter the clerical profession, he was put to the study +of law and then of medicine; but he wrenched asunder his fetters with a +force that was felt at the extremities of Europe. In his nineteenth year he +began the tragedy of the "Robbers," and its publication forms an era in the +literature of the world.</p> + +<p>It is a work of tragic interest, bordering upon horror. A grim, +inexpiable Fate is made the ruling principle; it envelops and overshadows +the whole; and under its souring influence, the fiercest efforts of human +will appear but like flashes that illuminate the wild scene with a brief +and terrible splendour, and are lost forever in the darkness. The +unsearchable abysses of man's destiny are laid open before us, black and +profound, and appalling, as they seem to the young mind when it first +attempts to explore them.</p> + +<p>Schiller had meanwhile become a surgeon in the Würtemberg army; and +the Duke, scandalised at the moral errors of the "Robbers," and not less at +its want of literary merit, forbade him to write more poetry. Dalberg, +superintendent of the Manheim theatre, put the play on the stage in 1781, +and in October, 1782, Schiller decided his destiny by escaping secretly +from Stuttgart beyond the frontier. A generous lady, Madam von Wollzogen, +invited him to her estate of Bauerbach, near Meiningen.</p> + +<p>Here he resumed his poetical employments, and published, within a year, +the tragedies "Verschwörung des Fiesco" and "Kabale und Liebe." This +"Conspiracy of Fiesco," the story of the political and personal relations +of the Genoese nobility, has the charm of a kind of colossal magnitude. The +chief incidents have a dazzling magnificence; the chief characters, an +aspect of majesty and force. The other play, "Court-intriguing and Love," +is a tragedy of domestic life; it shows the conflict of cold worldly wisdom +with the pure impassioned movements of the young heart. Now, in September, +1783, Schiller went to Manheim as poet to the theatre, a post of +respectability and reasonable profit. Here he undertook his "Thalia," a +periodical work devoted to poetry and the drama, in 1784. Naturalised by +law in his new country, surrounded by friends that honoured him, he was now +exclusively a man of letters for the rest of his days.</p> + + +<h4><i>From His Settlement at Manheim to His Settlement at Jena</i></h4> +<h4>(1783-1790)</h4> + + +<p>Schiller had his share of trials to encounter, but he was devoted with +unchanging ardour to the cause he had embarked in. Few men have been more +resolutely diligent than he, and he was warmly seconded by the taste of the +public. For the Germans consider the stage as an organ for refining the +hearts and minds of men, and the theatre of Manheim was one of the best in +Germany.</p> + +<p>Besides composing dramatic pieces and training players, Schiller wrote +poems, the products of a mind brooding over dark and mysterious things, and +his "Philosophic Letters" unfold to us many a gloomy conflict of the soul, +surveying the dark morass of infidelity yet showing no causeway through it. +The first acts of "Don Carlos," printed in "Thalia," had attracted the +attention of the Duke of Sachsen-Weimar, who conferred on their author the +title of Counsellor. Schiller was loved and admired in Manheim, yet he +longed for a wider sphere of action, and he determined to take up his +residence at Leipzig.</p> + +<p>Here he arrived in March, 1785, and at once made innumerable +acquaintances, but went to Dresden in the end of the summer, and here "Don +Carlos" was completed. This, the story of a royal youth condemned to death +by his father, is the first of Schiller's plays to bear the stamp of +maturity. The Spanish court in the sixteenth century; its rigid, cold +formalities; its cruel, bigoted, but proud-spirited grandees; its +inquisitors and priests; and Philip, its head, the epitome at once of its +good and bad qualities, are exhibited with wonderful distinctness and +address. Herr Schiller's genius does not thrill, but exalts us; it is +impetuous, exuberant, majestic. The tragedy was, received with immediate +and universal approbation.</p> + +<p>He now contemplated no further undertaking connected with the stage, but +his mind was overflowing with the elements of poetry, and with these +smaller pieces he occupied himself at intervals through the remainder of +his life. "The Walk," the "Song of the Bell," contain exquisite +delineations of the fortunes of man; the "Cranes of Ibycus," and "Hero and +Leander," are among the most moving ballads in any language. Schiller never +wrote or thought with greater diligence than while at Dresden. A novel, +"The Ghostseer," was a great popular success, but Schiller had begun to +think of history. Very few of his projects in this direction reached even +partial execution; portions of a "History of the Most Remarkable +Conspiracies and Revolutions in the Middle and Later Ages," and of a +"History of the Revolt of the Netherlands," were published.</p> + +<p>A visit to Weimar, the Athens of Germany, was accomplished in 1787; to +Goethe he was not introduced, but was welcomed by Wieland and Herder. +Thence he went to see his early patroness at Bauerbach, and on this +journey, at Rudolstadt, he met the Fräulein Lengefeld, whose +attractions made him loath to leave and eager to return. The visit was +repeated next year, and this lady honoured him with a return of love. At +this time, too, he first met the illustrious Goethe, whom we may contrast +with Schiller as we should contrast Shakespeare with Milton. Goethe was now +in his thirty-ninth year, Schiller ten years younger, and each affected the +other with feelings of estrangement, almost of repugnance. Ultimately they +liked each other better, and became friends; there are few things on which +Goethe should look back with greater pleasure than on his treatment of +Schiller.</p> + +<p>The "Revolt of the Netherlands," of which the first volume appeared in +1788, is accurate, vivid and coherent, and unites beauty to a calm force. +It happened that the professorship at the University of Jena was about to +be vacant, and through Goethe's solicitations Schiller was appointed to it +in 1789. In the February following he obtained the hand of Fräulein +Lengefeld. "Life is quite a different thing by the side of a beloved wife," +he wrote a few months later; "the world again clothes itself around me in +poetic forms."</p> + + +<h4><i>From His Settlement at Jena to His Death</i></h4> +<h4>(1790-1805)</h4> + + +<p>The duties of his new office called upon Schiller to devote himself with +double zeal to history. We have scarcely any notice of the plan or success +of his academical prelections; his delivery was not distinguished by +fluency or grace, but his matter, we suppose, would make amends for these +deficiencies of manner. His letters breathe a spirit not only of diligence +but of ardour, and he was now busied with his "History of the Thirty-Years +War." This work, published in 1791, is considered his chief historical +treatise, for the "Revolt of the Netherlands" was never completed. In +Schiller's view, the business of the historian is not merely to record, but +also to interpret; his narrative should be moulded according to the +science, and impregnated with the liberal spirit of his time.</p> + +<p>In one of his letters he says--"The problem is, to choose and arrange +your materials so that, to interest, they shall not need the aid of +decoration. We moderns have a source of interest at our disposal, which no +Greek or Roman was acquainted with, and which the <i>patriotic</i> interest +does not nearly equal. This last, in general, is chiefly of importance to +unripe nations, for the youth of the world. But we may excite a very +different sort of interest if we represent each remarkable occurrence that +happened to <i>men</i> as of importance to <i>man</i>. It is a poor and +little aim to write for one nation; the most powerful nation is but a +fragment."</p> + +<p>In 1791, Schiller was overtaken by a violent and threatening disorder in +the chest, and though nature overcame it in the present instance, the +blessing of entire health never returned to him. Total cessation from +intellectual effort was prescribed to him, and his prospect was a hard one; +but the hereditary Prince of Holstein-Augustenberg came to his assistance +with a pension of a thousand crowns for three years, presented with a +delicate politeness which touched Schiller even more than the gift itself. +He bore bodily pain with a strenuous determination and with an unabated +zeal in the great business of his life. No period of his life displayed +more heroism than the present one.</p> + +<p>He now released his connection with the University; his weightiest +duties were discharged by proxy; and his historical studies were forsaken. +His mind was being attracted by the philosophy of Kant. This transcendental +system had filled Germany with violent contentions; Herder and Wieland were +opposing it vehemently; Goethe alone retained his wonted composure, willing +to allow this theory to "have its day, as all things have." How far +Schiller penetrated its arena we cannot say, but he wrote several essays, +imbued in its spirit, upon aesthetic subjects; notably, "Grace and +Dignity," "Naive and Sentimental Poetry," and "Letters on the Aesthetic +Culture of Man."</p> + +<p>The project of an epic poem brought Schiller back to his art; he first +thought of Gustavus Adolphus, then of Frederick the Great of Prussia, for +his hero, and intended to adopt the <i>ottave rime</i>, and in general +construction to follow the model of the "Iliad." He did not even begin to +execute this work, but devoted himself instead to the tragedy of +"Wallenstein," which occupied him for several years. Among other +engagements were, the editing of the "Thalia," which was relinquished at +the end of 1793; a new periodical, the "Horen," which began early in 1794; +and another, the "Musen-Almanach," in which the collection of epigrams +known as the "Xenien" appeared. In these new publications Schiller was +supported by the co-operation of Goethe.</p> + +<p>"Wallenstein." by far the best work he had yet produced, was given to +the world in 1799. Wallenstein is the model of a high-souled, great, +accomplished man, whose ruling passion is ambition. A shade of horror, of +fateful dreariness, hangs over the hero's death, and except in Macbeth or +Othello we know not where to match it. This tragedy is the greatest work of +its century.</p> + +<p>Schiller now spent his winters in Weimar, and at last lived there +constantly, often staying for months with Goethe. The tragedy of "Maria +Stuart," which appeared in 1800, is a beautiful work, but compared with +"Wallenstein" its purpose is narrow and its result common. It has no true +historical delineation. The "Maid of Orleans," 1801, a tragedy on the +subject of Jeanne d'Arc, will remain one of the very finest of modern +dramas, and its reception was beyond example flattering. It was followed, +in 1803, by the "Bride of Messina," a tragedy which fails to attain its +object; there is too little action in the play and the interest flags. But +"Wilhelm Tell," 1804, exhibits some of the highest triumphs which +Schiller's genius, combined with his art, ever realised. In Tell are +combined all the attributes of a great man, without the help of education +or of great occasions to develop them. The play has a look of nature and +substantial truth, which neither of its rivals can boast of. Its characters +are a race of manly husbandmen, heroic without ceasing to be homely, +poetical without ceasing to be genuine.</p> + +<p>This was Schiller's last work. The spring of 1805 came in cold, bleak +and stormy, and along with it the malady returned. On May 9 the end came. +Schiller died at the age of forty-five years and a few months, leaving a +widow, two sons and two daughters. The news of his death fell cold on many +a heart throughout Europe.</p> + + +<h4><i>Schiller's Character</i></h4> + + +<p>Physically, Schiller was tall and strongly boned, but unmuscular and +lean; his body wasted under the energy of a spirit too keen for it. His +face was pale, the cheeks and temples hollow, the chin projecting, the nose +aquiline, his hair inclined to auburn. Withal his countenance was +attractive, and had a certain manly beauty. To judge from his portraits, +his face expressed the features of his mind: it is mildness tempering +strength; fiery ardour shining through clouds of suffering and +disappointment; it is at once meek, tender, unpretending and heroic.</p> + +<p>In his dress and manner, as in all things, he was plain and unaffected. +Among strangers, shy and retiring; in his own family, or among his friends, +he was kind-hearted, free and gay as a little child. His looks as he walked +were constantly bent on the ground, so that he often failed to notice a +passing acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Schiller's mind was grand by nature, and cultivated by the assiduous +study of a life-time. It is not the predominating force of any one faculty +that impresses us, but the general force of all. His intellect seems +powerful and vast, rather than quick or keen; for he is not notable for +wit, though his fancy is ever prompt with his metaphors, illustrations and +comparisons. Perhaps his greatest faculty was a half poetical, half +philosophical imagination, a faculty teeming with magnificence and +brilliancy; now adorning a stately pyramid of scientific speculation; now +brooding over the abysses of thought and feeling, till thoughts and +feelings, else unutterable, were embodied in expressive forms.</p> + +<p>Combined with these intellectual faculties was that vehemence of +temperament which is necessary for their full development. Schiller's heart +was at once fiery and tender; impetuous, soft, affectionate, his enthusiasm +clothed the universe with grandeur, and sent his spirit forth to explore +its secrets and mingle warmly in its interests. Thus poetry in Schiller was +not one but many gifts. It was, what true poetry is always, the +quintessence of general mental riches, the purified result of strong +thought and conception, and of refined as well as powerful emotion.</p> + +<p>His works exhibit rather extraordinary strength than extraordinary +fineness or versatility. His power of dramatic imitation is perhaps never +of the highest; and in its best state, it is further limited to a certain +range of characters. It is with the grave, the earnest, the exalted, the +affectionate, the mournful that he succeeds; he is not destitute of humour, +but neither is he rich in it.</p> + +<p>The sentiments which animated Schiller's poetry were converted into +principles of conduct; his actions were as blameless as his writings were +pure. He was unsullied by meanness, unsubdued by the difficulties or +allurements of life. With the world, in fact, he had not much to do; +without effort, he dwelt apart from it; its prizes were not the wealth +which could enrich him. Wishing not to seem, but to be, envy was a feeling +of which he knew little, even before he rose above its level. To all men he +was humane and sympathising; among his friends, open-hearted, generous, +helpful; in his family tender, kind, sportive. Schiller gives a fine +example of the German character; he has all its good qualities.</p> + +<p>The kingdoms which Schiller conquered were not for one nation at the +expense of suffering to another; they are kingdoms conquered from the +barren realms of Darkness, to increase the happiness, and dignity, and +power, of all men; new forms of Truth, new maxims of Wisdom, new images and +scenes of Beauty, won from the "void and formless Infinite"; a "possession +for ever," to all the generations of the earth.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="BENVENUTO_CELLINI"></a>BENVENUTO CELLINI</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Autobiography2"></a>Autobiography</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Benvenuto Cellini was born in Florence in the year 1500, +and died in the same city on December 13, 1569. He was the greatest of the +craftsmen during the height of the Renaissance period. Kings and popes vied +with each other in trying to secure his services. His claims to be the king +of craftsmen were admitted by his fellow-artificers, and at the zenith of +his career he had no rivals. Trophies of his skill and artistic genius +remain to confirm the verdict of his own time. His great bronze statue of +Perseus in Florence; the Nymph of Fontainebleau, now in the Louvre; his +golden salt-cellar, made for Francis I., and now in Vienna--these are a few +of his masterpieces, and any one of them is of a quality to stamp its maker +as a master craftsman of imaginative genius and extraordinary manual skill. +A goldsmith and sculptor, he was also a soldier, and did service as a +fighter and engineer in the wars of his time. Of high personal courage, he +was a braggart and a ruffian, who used the dagger as freely as the tools of +his craft. His many qualities and complex personality are revealed in his +"Autobiography"--one of the most vivid and remarkable records ever penned. +He began the work in 1558. In its history his account is accurate, but his +testimony regarding his martial exploits is untrustworthy. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Making of a Craftsman</i></h4> + + +<p>It is a duty incumbent on upright and credible men of all ranks, who +have performed anything noble or praiseworthy, to record the events of +their lives. Looking back on some delightful and happy events, and on many +misfortunes so truly overwhelming that the appalling retrospect makes me +wonder how I have reached my fifty-eighth year in vigour and prosperity, +through God's goodness, I have resolved to publish an account of my +life.</p> + +<p>My name is Benvenuto, the son of Maestro Giovanni Cellini; my mother was +Maria Lisabetta, daughter to Stefano Granacci; and both my parents were +citizens of Florence. My ancestors lived in the valley of Ambra, where they +were lords of considerable domains; they were all trained to arms, and +distinguished for military prowess. Andrea Cellini, my grandfather, was +tolerably well versed in the architecture of those days; and made it his +profession. Giovanni, my father, acquired great proficiency in the art of +designing.</p> + +<p>I was born on All Saints' Day, in the year 1500. A girl was anticipated; +but when my father saw with his own eyes the unexpected boy, clasping his +hands together, he lifted up his eyes to Heaven, saying: "Lord, I thank +Thee from the bottom of my heart for this present, which is very dear and +welcome to me." The standers-by asked him, joyfully, how he proposed to +call the child. He made no other answer than: "He is Welcome." And this +name of Welcome (Benvenuto) he resolved to give me at the font, and so I +was christened accordingly. At the age of fifteen I engaged myself with a +goldsmith called Marcone; and so great was my inclination to improve that +in a few months I rivalled most of the journeymen in the business. I also +practised the art of jewellery at Siena, Bologna, Lucca, and Pisa, in all +of which places I executed several fine pieces of workmanship, which +inspired me with an ardent desire to become more eminent in my profession. +I produced a basso-relievo in silver, carved with a group of foliages and +several figures of youths, and other beautiful grotesques. This coming +under the inspection of the Goldsmiths' Company of Florence, I acquired the +reputation of the most expert young man in the trade.</p> + +<p>About this time there came to Florence a sculptor named Torrigiano, who +had just returned from England, where he had resided for several years. +Having inspected my drawings and workmanship, Torrigiano offered to take me +to England; but having abused the divine Michael Angelo, whose exquisite +manner I did my utmost to learn, far from having any inclination to go with +him to England, I could never more bear the sight of him.</p> + +<p>In my nineteenth year I journeyed to Rome, where I went to work under +several masters, studied the antiquities of the city, earned a great deal +of money, and constantly sent the best part of my gains to my father. At +the expiration of two years I returned to Florence, where I engaged a shop +hard by Landi's bank, and executed many works. Envy began then to rankle in +the heart of my former masters, which led to quarrels and trials before the +magistrates. I had to fly back to Rome, disguised as a friar, on account of +a stabbing affray. There I joined Lucagnolo a goldsmith, and was employed +in making plate and jewels by the Cardinals Cibo, Cornaro, and Salviati, +the Bishop of Salamanca, and Signora Porzia Chigi, and was able to open a +shop entirely on my own account. I set about learning seal engraving, +desiring to rival Lautzio, the most eminent master of that art, the +business of medallist, and the elegant art of enamelling, with the greatest +ardour, so that the difficulties appeared delightful to me. This was +through the peculiar indulgence of the Author of Nature, who had gifted me +with a genius so happy that I could with the utmost ease learn anything to +which I gave my mind.</p> + +<p>During the plague in Rome I was seized with the disease, but to my own +great surprise survived that terrific attack. When better, I made some +vases of silver for the eminent surgeon, Giacomo Carti, who afterwards +showed them to the Duke of Ferrara and several other princes, assuring them +that they were antiques, and had been presented to him by a great nobleman. +Others were assured that there had not been a man these 3,000 years able to +make such figures. Encouraged by these declarations, I confessed that they +were my performances, and by this work I made considerable gain.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--A Soldier and Goldsmith</i></h4> + + +<p>All Europe was now (1527) up in arms, involved in the wars between +Charles V. of Germany and Francis I. of France. Pope Clement VII. +alternately declared in favour of Charles and Francis, hoping to preserve +the balance of political power in Europe, and disbanded the troops which +had garrisoned Rome. Learning this, Charles, Duke of Bourbon, Constable of +France, advanced with a large army of Germans and Spaniards through Italy, +carrying terror and desolation, and appeared before the walls of Rome.</p> + +<p>I raised a company of fifty brave young men, whom I led to the Campo +Santo. When the enemy was scaling the walls I determined to perform some +manly action, and, levelling my arquebuse where I saw the thickest crowd, I +discharged it with a deliberate aim at a person who seemed to be lifted +above the rest, and he fell wounded. He was, as I understood afterwards, +the Duke of Bourbon. On another day I shot at and wounded the Prince of +Orange. Leaving the Campo Santo I made for the Castle of St. Angelo, just +as the castellan was letting down the portcullis. When I found myself on +the castle walls, the artillery was deserted by the bombardiers, and I took +direction of the fire of the artillery and falcons, and killed a +considerable number of the enemy. This made some cardinals and others bless +me, and extol my activity to the skies. Emboldened by this, I used my +utmost exertions; let it suffice that it was I who preserved the castle +that morning. I continued to direct the artillery with such signal +execution as to acquire the favour and good graces of his holiness the +Pope.</p> + +<p>One day the Pope happened to walk upon the ramparts, when he saw me fire +a swivel at a Spanish colonel who had formerly been in his service, and +split the man into two pieces. Falling upon my knees, I entreated his +holiness to absolve me from the guilt of homicide and other crimes I had +committed in the castle in the service of the Church. The Pope, lifting up +his hands and making the Sign of the Cross over me, blessed me, and gave +his absolution for all the homicides I had ever committed, or ever should +commit, in the service of the Apostolic Church. After that I kept up a +constant fire, and scarcely once missed all the time. Later, Pope Clement +sent for me to a private apartment, and with his master of the horse placed +before me his regalia, with all the vast quantity of jewels belonging to +the apostolical chamber. I was ordered to take off the gold in which they +were set. I did as directed, and, wrapping up each jewel in a little piece +of paper, we sewed them in the skirts of the Pope's clothes, and those of +the master of the horse. The gold, which amounted to about a hundred +pounds' weight, I was ordered to melt with the utmost secrecy, which I did, +and carried to his holiness without being observed by anyone.</p> + +<p>A few days after, a treaty was concluded with the Imperialists, and +hostilities ceased. Worn out with my exertions during the siege, I returned +to Florence and thence to Mantua, where, on the introduction of the +excellent painter, Giulio Romano, I executed many commissions for the duke, +including a shrine in gold in which to place the relic of the Blood of +Christ, which the Mantuans boast themselves to be possessed of, and a +pontifical seal for the duke's brother, the bishop. An attack of fever and +a quarrel with the duke induced me to return to Florence, to find that my +father and all belonging to my family, except my youngest sister and +brother, were dead of the plague. I opened a shop in the New Market, and +engraved many medals, which received the highest praise from the divine +Michael Angelo.</p> + +<p>On the invitation of Pope Clement VII. I retired from Florence, and +repaired to Rome. His holiness commissioned me to execute a button for the +pontifical cope, and to set into it the jewels which I had taken out of the +two crowns in the Castle of St. Angelo. The design was most beautiful, and +so pleased and astonished was the Pope that he employed me to make new +coinage, and appointed me stamp-master of the mint. My gold coins were +pronounced by the Pope's secretary to be superior to those of the Roman +emperors. When I finished my great work upon the pontifical button it was +looked upon as the most exquisite performance of the kind that had ever +been seen in Rome The Pope, I thought, would never tire of praising it, and +he appointed me to a post in the College of Mace-Bearers, which brought me +about 200 crowns a year. About this time a tumult occurred in the city near +the bridge of St. Angelo, in which my soldier brother was wounded, and died +the next day. I was consumed with desire of revenge upon the musketeer who +shot him. One night I saw him standing at his door, and, with a long +dagger, hit him exactly upon the nape of the neck. The weapon penetrated so +deep that, though I made a great effort to recover it again, I found it +impossible. I took refuge in the palace of Duke Alesandro, and more than +eight days afterwards the Pope sent for me. When I came into his presence +he frowned upon me very much. However, upon viewing some work which I +submitted to him, his countenance grew serene, and he praised me highly. +Then, looking attentively at me, he said: "Now that you have recovered your +health, Benvenuto, take care of yourself." I understood his meaning, and +told him I should not neglect his advice.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Intrigues at the Papal Court</i></h4> + + +<p>Cardinal Salviati more than once showed himself my enemy. He had sent +from Milan, of which city he was Legate, a goldsmith named Tobbia, as a +great artist, capable, so he said, of humbling the pride of his holiness's +favourite, Benvenuto. Another of my enemies was Pompeo, a Milanese +jeweller, and near relation to his holiness's most favoured servant. At the +instigation of this Pompeo I was deprived of my place in the mint. On +another day Pompeo ran in all haste to the Pope, and said: "Most Holy +Father, Benvenuto has just murdered Tobbia; I saw it with my own eyes." The +Pope flew into a violent passion, and ordered the governor of Rome to seize +and hang me directly.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal de Medici overheard this, and sent a Roman gentleman to +tell me it was impossible to save me, and advising me to fly from Rome. I +took horse, and bent my course instantly towards Naples. Afterwards I found +that Pope Clement had sent one of the two gentlemen of his bed-chamber to +inquire after Tobbia. That gentleman, upon finding Tobbia at work, reported +the real state of the case to the Pope. His holiness thereupon turned to +Pompeo and said: "You are a most abandoned wretch, but one thing I can +assure you of--you have stirred a snake that will sting you, and that is +what you well deserve."</p> + +<p>Arrived in Naples I was received by the viceroy, who showed me a +thousand civilities, and asked me to enter his service. However, having +received a letter from the Cardinal de Medici to return to Rome without +loss of time, I repaired thither on horseback. On reaching my own house I +finished a medal with the head of Pope Clement, and on the reverse a figure +representing Peace, and stamped upon gold, silver, and copper. His +holiness, when presented with the medals, told me they were very fine, that +he was highly pleased with them, and asked me to make another reverse +representing Moses striking the rock, and the water issuing from it. This I +did.</p> + +<p>Three days afterwards, Pope Clement died. I put on my sword, and +repaired to St. Peter's, where I kissed the feet of the deceased pontiff, +and could not refrain from tears. On returning, near the Campo di Fiore, I +met my adversary Pompeo, encircled with his bravoes. I thereupon clapped my +hand to a sharp dagger, forced my way through the file of ruffians, laid +hold of Pompeo by the throat, struck him under the ear, and, upon repeating +my blow, he fell down dead. I escaped, and was protected by Cardinal +Cornaro in his own palace.</p> + +<p>A few days after, Cardinal Farnese was elected as Pope Paul III. The new +pontiff inquired after me, and declared he would employ nobody else to +stamp his coins, A gentleman said that I was obliged to abscond for having +killed one Pompeo in a fray, to which the Pope made answer: "I never heard +of the death of Pompeo, but I have often heard of Benvenuto's provocation; +so let a safe-conduct be instantly made out, and that will secure him from +all other manner of dangers." A Milanese, who was a favourite of the +pontiff, told his holiness that it might be of dangerous consequence to +grant such favours immediately on being raised to his new dignity. The Pope +instantly said: "You do not understand these matters; I must inform you +that men who are masters in their profession, like Benvenuto, should not be +subject to the laws; but he less than any other, for I am sensible that he +was in the right in the whole affair." So I entered into the Pope's +service.</p> + +<p>However, the Pope's natural son having become my enemy, and having +employed a Corsican soldier to assassinate me, I escaped to Florence, where +I was appointed master of the mint by Duke Alessandro de Medici. The coins +which I stamped, with the duke's head on one side and a saint on the other, +his excellency declared were the finest in Christendom. Shortly after I +received from Rome an ample safe-conduct from the Pope, directing me to +repair forthwith to that city at the celebration of the Feast of the Virgin +Mary. This I did, and the Pope granted me a patent of pardon for killing +Pompeo, and caused it to be registered in the Capitol.</p> + +<p>About this time Charles V. returned victorious from his enterprise +against Tunis. When he made his triumphant entry into Rome he was received +with great pomp, and I was nominated by his holiness to carry his presents +of massive gold work and jewels, executed by myself, to the emperor, who +invited me to his court and ordered five hundred gold crowns to be given +me. Stories to my prejudice having been carried to his holiness, I felt +myself to be neglected, and set out for France, but made no stay there, and +returned to Rome. Here I was accused falsely by a Perugian servant of being +possessed of great treasure, the greatest part of which was said to consist +of jewels which belonged to the Church, and whose booty I had possessed +myself of in the Castle of St. Angelo at the time of the sack of Rome. At +the instigation of Pier Luigi, the Pope's illegitimate son, I was taken as +prisoner to the Castle of St. Angelo, where I was put under examination by +the governor of Rome and other magistrates. I vindicated myself, saying +that I got nothing else in the Church's service at the melancholy sack of +Rome but wounds.</p> + +<p>Accurate inquiry having been made, none of the Pope's jewels were found +missing; but I was left a prisoner in the castle, from which I made a +marvellous escape, only to be consigned again, at the instigation of Luigi, +to the deepest subterranean cell. I would have destroyed myself, but I had +wonderful revelations and visions of St. Peter, who pleaded my cause with +the beautiful Virgin Mary holding Christ in her arms. The constable +informed the Pope of the extraordinary things which I declared I had seen. +The pontiff, who neither believed in God nor in any other article of +religion, sent word that I was mad, and advised him to think no more about +me, but mind his own soul.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--At the French Court</i></h4> + + +<p>About this time the Cardinal of Ferrara came to Rome from the court of +France, and in the name of King Francis urged my release, to which he got +the Pope's consent during a convivial meeting without the knowledge of +Luigi. The Pope's order was brought to the prison at night, and I was +conducted to the palace of the Cardinal. The Cardinal was summoned by +Francis I. to Paris, and to bring me with him.</p> + +<p>The French king received me graciously, and I presented him with a cup +and basin which I had executed for his majesty, who declared that neither +the ancients nor the greatest masters of Italy had ever worked in so +exquisite a taste. His majesty ordered me to make him twelve silver +statues. They were to be figures of six gods and six goddesses, made +exactly to his own height, which was very little less than three cubits. I +began zealously to make a model of Jupiter. Next day I showed him in his +palace the model of my great salt-cellar, which he called a noble +production, and commissioned me to make it in gold, commanding that I +should be given directly a thousand old gold crowns, good weight.</p> + +<p>As a mark of distinction, the king granted me letters of naturalisation +and a patent of lordship of the Castle of Nesle. Later, I submitted to the +king models of the new palace gates and the great fountain for +Fontainebleau, which appeared to him to be exceedingly beautiful. Unluckily +for me, his favourite, Madame d'Estampes, conceived a deep resentment at my +neglect for not taking notice of her in any of my designs. When the silver +statue of Jupiter was finished and set up in the corridor of Fontainebleau +alongside reproductions in bronze of all the first-rate antiques recently +discovered in Rome, the king cried out: "This is one of the finest +productions of art that was ever beheld; I could never have conceived a +piece of work the hundredth part so beautiful. From a comparison with these +admirable antique figures, it is evident that this statue of Jupiter is +vastly superior to them."</p> + +<p>Madame d'Estampes was more highly incensed than ever, but the king said +I was one of the ablest men the world had ever produced. The king ordered +me a thousand crowns, partly as a recompense for my labours, and partly in +payment of some disbursed by myself. I afterwards set about finishing my +colossal statue of Mars, which was to occupy the centre of the fountain at +Fontainebleau, and represented the king. Madame d'Estampes continuing her +spiteful artifices, I requested the Cardinal of Ferrara to procure leave +for me to make a tour to Italy, promising to return whenever the king +should think proper to signify his pleasure. I departed in an unlucky hour, +leaving under the care of my journeymen my castle and all my effects; but +all the way I could not refrain from sighing and weeping.</p> + +<p>At this time Cosmo, Duke of Florence, resided at Poggio Cajano, a place +ten miles from Florence. I there waited upon him to pay my respects, and he +and his duchess received me with the greatest kindness. At the duke's +request I undertook to make a great statue of Perseus delivering Andromeda +from the Medusa. A site was found for me to erect a house in which I might +set up my furnaces, and carry on a variety of works both of clay and +bronze, and of gold and silver separately. While making progress with my +great statue of Perseus, I executed my golden vases, girdles, and other +jewels for the Duchess of Florence, and also a likeness of the duke larger +than life.</p> + +<p>For a time I discontinued working upon marble statues and went on with +Perseus, and eventually I triumphed over all the difficulties of casting it +in bronze, although the shop took fire at the critical moment, and the sky +poured in so much rain and wind that my furnace was cooled. I was so highly +pleased that my work had succeeded so well that I went to Pisa to pay my +respects to the duke, who received me in the most gracious manner, while +the duchess vied with him in kindness to me.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--His Later Life in Florence</i></h4> + + +<p>About this time the war with Siena broke out, and at the request of the +duke I carried out the repair of the fortifications of two of the gates of +the city of Florence. At last my statue of Perseus was erected in the great +square, and was shown to the populace, who set up so loud a shout of +applause that I began to be comforted for the mortifications I had +undergone. Sonnets and Latin and Greek odes were hung upon the gates in +praise of my performance, but what gave me the highest satisfaction was +that statuaries and painters emulated each other in commending it. Two days +having passed, I paid a visit to the duke, who said to me with great +complaisance: "My friend Benvenuto, you have given me the highest +satisfaction imaginable, and I promise to reward you in such a manner as to +excite your surprise." I shed tears of joy, and kissing the hem of his +excellency's garment, addressed him thus: "My most noble lord, liberal +patron of the arts, I beg leave to retire for a week to return thanks to +the Supreme Being, for I know how hard I have worked, and I am sensible +that my faith has prevailed with God to grant me His assistance." +Permission was given, and I made the pilgrimage to Vallombrosa and +Camaldoli, incessantly singing psalms and saying prayers to the honour and +glory of God.</p> + +<p>On my return there were great differences between the duke and myself as +to the reward to be given me for the statue of Perseus, during which the +duchess and the sculptor Bandinello interposed. Bandinello declared that +the work had proved so admirable a masterpiece, that, in his opinion, it +was worth 16,000 gold crowns and upwards. When the duke was informed of +this decision he was highly displeased, and down to the close of the year +1566 I received no more than 3,000 gold crowns, given to me monthly by +payments of 25, 50, or 100 crowns.</p> + +<p>Subsequently, I was employed to erect two pulpits in the choir of St. +Maria del Fiore, and adorn them with historical figures in basso-relievo of +bronze, together with varieties of other embellishments. About this period, +the great block of marble, intended for the gigantic statue of Neptune, to +be placed near the fountain on the Ducal Piazza, was brought up the River +Arno, and thence by road to Florence. A competition took place between the +model which I had made for the statue of Neptune and that designed by +Bandinello. The duchess, who had become my implacable enemy, favoured +Bandinello, and I waited upon her, carrying to her some pretty trifles of +my making, which her excellency liked very much. Then I added that I had +undertaken one of the most laborious tasks in the world--the carving of a +Christ crucified, of the whitest marble, upon a cross of the blackest, and +as large as the life. Upon her asking me what I proposed doing with it, I +said I would freely make her a present of it; that all I desired was that +she would be neutral with respect to the model of the Neptune which the +duke had ordered to be made.</p> + +<p>When I had finished the model of Neptune, the duke came to see it. It +gave him high satisfaction, and he said I deserved the prize. Some weeks +later, Bandinello died, and it was generally thought that the grief which +he felt at losing the fine piece of marble out of which the statue of +Neptune was to be made greatly contributed to hasten his dissolution. When +I was working at my great model of Neptune, I was seized with illness, +caused by a dose of sublimate poison administered in food by a man named +Sbietta and his brother, a profligate priest, from whom I had bought the +annuity of a farm. Upon my recovery the duke and the duchess came +unexpectedly with a grand retinue to my workshop to see the image of Christ +upon the Cross, and it pleased them so greatly that they bestowed the +highest encomiums on me. Though I had undergone infinite labour in its +execution, yet with pleasure I made them a present of it, thinking none +more worthy of that fine piece of work than their excellencies. They talked +a long time in praise of my abilities, and the duchess seemed, as it were, +to ask pardon for her past treatment of me.</p> + +<p>At this juncture the Queen Dowager of France, Catherine de Medici, +dispatched Signor Baccio del Bene on a mission to our duke. The signor and +I were intimate friends, and he told me that the queen had a strong desire +to finish the sepulchral monument to her husband, King Henry, and if I +chose to return to France and again take possession of my castle, I should +be supplied with whatever I wanted, in case I was willing to serve her +majesty. But when this was communicated to the duke, his excellency said he +meant to keep me in his own service; and the Queen of France, who had +received a loan of money from the duke, did not propose the thing any more +for fear of offending him; so I was obliged to stay, much against my +will.</p> + +<p>The last entry in Benvenuto Cellini's manuscript is the announcement of +a journey made by Duke Cosmo with his whole court, including his brother, +the Cardinal de Medici, to Pisa, where the latter was attacked by "a +malignant fever, which in a few days put an end to his life. The cardinal +was one of the duke's chief supporters, and highly beloved by him, being a +person of great virtues and abilities. Consequently, his loss was severely +felt."</p> + +<p>In 1554, Benvenuto had been admitted to the ranks of the Florentine +nobility. In 1560 he married Piera, the woman named in his will, who nursed +him through his illness from the poison administered by the Sbietta family. +By her he had five children, two of whom died in infancy. In 1561, Duke +Cosmo made him a grant of a house near San Croce, in the Via Rosajo, +Florence, "in consideration of his admirable talents in casting, sculpture, +and other branches of art." The patent continues: "We look upon his +productions, both in marble and bronze, as evident proofs of his surpassing +genius and incomparable skill."</p> + +<p>Benvenuto was deputed by the sculptors of Florence to attend the +obsequies of his great master and friend, Michael Angelo Buonarroti, who +had died on February 18, 1564. Benvenuto died on December 13, 1569, and was +buried by his own direction in the Chapter House of the Church of the +Annunziata, Florence, with great pomp.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="CHATEAUBRIAND"></a>CHATEAUBRIAND</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Memoirs_From_Beyond_the_Grave"></a>Memoirs From Beyond the +Grave</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> The "Mémoires d' Outre-Tombe," which was partly +published before Chateaubriand's death, represents a work spread over a +great part of Chateaubriand's life, and reveals as no other of his books +the innermost personality of the man. (Chateaubriand, biography: see +FICTION.) </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Youth and Its Follies</i></h4> + + +<p>Four years ago, on my return from the Holy Land, I purchased a little +country house, situated near the hamlet of Aulnay, in the vicinity of +Sceaux and Chatenay. The house is in a valley, encircled by thickly wooded +hills. The ground attached to this habitation is a sort of wild orchard. +These narrow confines seem to me to be fitting boundaries of my +long-protracted hopes. I have selected the trees, as far as I was able, +from the various climes I have visited. They remind me of my +wanderings.</p> + +<p>Knight-errant as I am, I have the sedentary tastes of a monk. It was +here I wrote the "Martyrs," the "Abencerrages," the "Itinéraire," +and "Moise." To what shall I devote myself in the evenings of the present +autumn? This day, October 4, being the anniversary of my entrance into +Jerusalem, tempts me to commence the history of my life.</p> + +<p>I am of noble descent, and I have profited by the accident of my birth, +inasmuch as I have retained that firm love of liberty which characterises +the members of an aristocracy whose last hour has sounded. Aristocracy has +three successive ages--the age of superiority, the age of privilege, and +the age of vanity. Having emerged from the first age, ft degenerates in the +second age, and perishes in the third.</p> + +<p>When I was a young man, and learned the meaning of love, I was a mystery +to myself. All my days were <i>adieux</i>. I could not see a woman without +being troubled. I blushed if one spoke to me. My timidity, already +excessive towards everyone, became so great with a woman that I would have +preferred any torment whatsoever to that of remaining alone with one. She +was no sooner gone than I would have recalled her with all my heart. Had +anyone delivered to me the most beautiful slaves of the seraglio, I should +not have known what to say to them. Accident enlightened me.</p> + +<p>Had I done as other men do, I should sooner have learned the pleasures +and pains of passion, the germ of which I carried in myself; but everything +in me assumed an extraordinary character. The warmth of imagination, my +bashfulness and solitude, caused me to turn back upon myself. For want of a +real object, by the power of my vague desires, I evoked a phantom which +never quitted me more. I know not whether the history of the human heart +furnishes another example of this kind.</p> + +<p>I pictured then to myself an ideal beauty, moulded from the various +charms of all the women I had seen. I gave her the eyes of one young +village girl, and the rosy freshness of another. This invisible enchantress +constantly attended me; I communed with her as with a real being. She +varied at the will of my wandering fancy. Now she was Diana clothed in +azure, now Aphrodite unveiled, now Thalia with her laughing mask, now Hebe +bearing the cup of eternal youth.</p> + +<p>A young queen approaches, brilliant with diamonds and flowers--this was +always my sylph. She seeks me at midnight, amidst orange groves, in the +corridors of a palace washed by the waves, on the balmy shore of Naples or +Messina; the light sound of her footsteps on the mosaic floor mingles with +the scarcely heard murmur of the waves.</p> + +<p>Awaking from these my dreams, and finding myself a poor little obscure +Breton, who would attract the eyes of no one, despair seized upon me. I no +longer dared to raise my eyes to the brilliant phantom which I had attached +to my every step. This delirium lasted for two whole years. I spoke little; +my taste for solitude redoubled. I showed all the symptoms of a violent +passion. I was absent, sad, ardent, savage. My days passed on in wild, +extravagant, mad fashion, which nevertheless had a peculiar charm.</p> + +<p>I have now reached a period at which I require some strength of mind to +confess my weakness. I had a gun, the worn-out trigger of which often went +off unexpectedly. I loaded this gun with three balls, and went to a spot at +a considerable distance from the great Mall. I cocked the gun, put the end +of the barrel into my mouth, and struck the butt-end against the ground. I +repeated the attempt several times, but unsuccessfully. The appearance of a +gamekeeper interrupted me in my design. I was a fatalist, though without my +own intention or knowledge. Supposing that my hour was not yet come, I +deferred the execution of my project to another day.</p> + +<p>Any whose minds are troubled by these delineations should remember that +they are listening to the voice of one who has passed from this world. +Reader, whom I shall never know, of me there is nothing--nothing but what I +am in the hands of the living God.</p> + +<p>A few weeks later I was sent for one morning. My father was waiting for +me in his cabinet.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said he, "you must renounce your follies. Your brother has +obtained for you a commission as ensign in the regiment of Navarre. You +must presently set out for Rennes, and thence to Cambray. Here are a +hundred louis-d'or; take care of them. I am old and ill--I have no long +time to live. Behave like a good man, and never dishonour your name."</p> + +<p>He embraced me. I felt the hard and wrinkled face pressed with emotion +against mine. This was my father's last embrace.</p> + +<p>The mail courier brought me to my garrison. Having joined the regiment +in the garb of a citizen, twenty-four hours afterwards I assumed that of a +soldier; it appeared as if I had worn it always. I was not fifteen days in +the regiment before I became an officer. I learned with facility both the +exercise and the theory of arms. I passed through the offices of corporal +and sergeant with the approbation of my instructors. My rooms became the +rendezvous of the old captains, as well as of the young lieutenants.</p> + +<p>The same year in which I went through my first training in arms at +Cambray brought news of the death of Frederic II. I am now ambassador to +the nephew of this great king, and write this part of my memoirs in Berlin. +This piece of important public news was succeeded by another, mournful to +me. It was announced to me that my father had been carried off by an attack +of apoplexy.</p> + +<p>I lamented M. de Chateaubriand. I remembered neither his severity nor +his weakness. If my father's affection for me partook of the severity of +his character, in reality it was not the less deep. My brother announced to +me that I had already obtained the rank of captain of cavalry, a rank +entitling me to honour and courtesy.</p> + +<p>A few days later I set out to be presented at the first court in Europe. +I remember my emotion when I saw the king at Versailles. When the king's +levée was announced, the persons not presented withdrew. I felt an +emotion of vanity; I was not proud of remaining, but I should have felt +humiliated at having to retire. The royal bed-chamber door opened; I saw +the king, according to custom, finishing his toilet. He advanced, on his +way to the chapel, to hear mass. I bowed, Marshal de Duras announcing my +name--"Sire, le Chevalier de Chateaubriand."</p> + +<p>The king graciously returned my salutation, and seemed to wish to +address me; but, more embarrassed than I, finding nothing to say to me, he +passed on. This sovereign was Louis XVI., only six years before he was +brought to the scaffold.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--In the Years of Revolution</i></h4> + + +<p>My political education was begun by my residence, at different times, in +Brittany in the years 1787 and 1788. The states of this province furnished +the model of the States-General; and the particular troubles which broke +out in the provinces of Brittany and Dauphiny were the forerunners of those +of the nation at large.</p> + +<p>The change which had been developing for two hundred years was then +reaching its limits. France was rapidly tending to a representative system +by means of a contest of the magistracy with the royal power.</p> + +<p>The year 1789, famous in the history of France, found me still on the +plains of my native Brittany. I could not leave the province till late in +the year, and did not reach Paris till after the pillage of the Maison +Reveillon, the opening of the States-General, the constitution of the +Tièrs-État in the National Assembly, the oath of the +Jeu-de-Paume, the royal council of the 23rd of June, and the junction of +the clergy and nobility in the Tièrs-État. The court, now +yielding, now attempting to resist, allowed itself to be browbeaten by +Mirabeau.</p> + +<p>The counter-blow to that struck at Versailles was felt at Paris. On July +14 the Bastille was taken. I was present as a spectator at this event. If +the gates had been kept shut the fortress would never have been taken. De +Launay, dragged from his dungeon, was murdered on the steps of the +Hôtel de Ville. Flesselles, the <i>prevôt des marchands</i>, +was shot through the head. Such were the sights delighted in by heartless +saintly hypocrites. In the midst of these murders the people abandoned +themselves to orgies similar to those carried on in Rome during the +troubles under Otto and Vitellius. The monarchy was demolished as rapidly +as the Bastille in the sitting of the National Assembly on the evening of +August 4.</p> + +<p>My regiment, quartered at Rouen, preserved its discipline for some time. +But at length insurrection broke out among the soldiers in Navarre. The +Marquis de Mortemar emigrated; the officers followed him. I had neither +adopted nor rejected the new opinions; I neither wished to emigrate nor to +continue my military career. I therefore retired, and I decided to go to +America.</p> + +<p>I sailed for that land, and my heart beat when we sighted the American +coast, faintly traced by the tops of some maple-trees emerging, as it were, +from the sea. A pilot came on board and we sailed into the Chesapeake and +soon set foot on American soil.</p> + +<p>At that time I had a great admiration for republics, though I did not +believe them possible in our era of the world. My idea of liberty pictured +her such as she was among the ancients, daughter of the manners of an +infant society. I knew her not as the daughter of enlightenment and the +civilisation of centuries; as the liberty whose reality the representative +republic has proved--God grant it may be durable! We are no longer obliged +to work in our own little fields, to curse arts and sciences, if we would +be free.</p> + +<p>I met General Washington. He was tall, calm, and cold rather than noble +in mien; the engravings of him are good. We sat down, and I explained to +him as well as I could the motive of my journey. He answered me in English +and French monosyllables, and listened to me with a sort of astonishment. I +perceived this, and said to him with some warmth: "But is it less difficult +to discover the north-west passage than to create a nation as you have +done?"</p> + +<p>"Well, well, young man!" cried he, holding out his hand to me. He +invited me to dine with him on the following day, and we parted. I took +care not to fail in my appointment. The conversation turned on the French +Revolution, and the general showed us a key of the Bastille. Such was my +meeting with the citizen soldier--the liberator of a world.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Paris in the Reign of Terror</i></h4> + + +<p>In 1792, when I returned to Paris, it no longer exhibited the same +appearance as in 1789 and 1790. It was no longer the new-born Revolution, +but a people intoxicated, rushing on to fulfil its destiny across abysses +and by devious ways. The appearance of the people was no longer curious and +eager, but threatening.</p> + +<p>The king's flight on June 21, 1791, gave an immense impulse to the +Revolution. Having been brought back to Paris on June 25, he was dethroned +for the first time, in consequence of the declaration of the National +Assembly that all its decrees should have the force of law, without the +king's concurrence or assent. I visited several of the "Clubs."</p> + +<p>The scenes at the Cordeliers, at which I was three or four times +present, were ruled and presided over by Danton--a Hun, with the nature of +a Goth.</p> + +<p>Faithful to my instincts, I had returned from America to offer my sword +to Louis XVI., not to involve myself in party intrigues. I therefore +decided to "emigrate." Brussels was the headquarters of the most +distinguished <i>émigrés</i>. There I found my trifling +baggage, which had arrived before me. The coxcomb +<i>émigrés</i> were hateful to me. I was eager to see those +like myself, with 600 livres income.</p> + +<p>My brother remained at Brussels as an aide-de-camp to the Baron de +Montboissier. I set out alone for Coblentz, went up the Rhine to that city, +but the royal army was not there. Passing on, I fell in with the Prussian +army between Coblentz and Treves. My white uniform caught the king's eye. +He sent for me; he and the Duke of Brunswick took off their hats, and in my +person saluted the old French army.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Army of Princes</i></h4> + + +<p>I was almost refused admission into the army of princes, for there were +already too many gallant men ready to fight. But I said I had just come +from America to have the honour of serving with old comrades. The matter +was arranged, the ranks were opened to receive me, and the only remaining +difficulty was where to choose. I entered the 7th company of the Bretons. +We had tents, but were in want of everything else.</p> + +<p>Our little army marched for Thionville. We went five or six leagues a +day. The weather was desperate. We began the siege of Thionville, and in a +few days were reinforced by Austrian cannon and cannoneers. The besieged +made an attack on us, and in this action we had several wounded and some +killed. We relinquished the siege of Thionville and set out for Verdun, +which had surrendered to the allies. The passage of Frederic William was +attested on all sides by garlands and flowers. In the midst of these +trophies of peace I observed the Prussian eagle displayed on the +fortifications of Verdun. It was not to remain long; as for the flowers, +they were destined to fade, like the innocent creatures who had gathered +them. One of the most atrocious murders of the reign of terror was that of +the young girls of Verdun.</p> + +<p>"Fourteen young girls of Verdun, of rare beauty, and almost like young +virgins dressed for a public fête, were," says Riouffe, "led in a +body to the scaffold. I never saw among us any despair like that which this +infamous act excited."</p> + +<p>I had been wounded during the siege of Thionville, and was suffering +badly. While I was asleep, a splinter from a shell struck me on the right +thigh. Roused by the stroke, but not being sensible of the pain, I only saw +that I was wounded by the appearance of the blood. I bound up my thigh with +my handkerchief. At four in the morning we thought the town had +surrendered, but the gates were not opened, and we were obliged to think of +a retreat. We returned to our positions after a harassing march of three +days. While these drops of blood were shed under the walls of Thionville, +torrents were flowing in the prisons of Paris; my wife and sisters were in +greater danger than myself.</p> + +<p>At Verdun, fever after my wound undermined my strength, and smallpox +attacked me. Yet I began a journey on foot of two hundred leagues, with +only eighteen livres in my pocket. All for the glory of the monarchy! I +intended to try to reach Ostend, there to embark for Jersey, and thence to +join the royalists in Brittany. Breaking down on the road, I lay insensible +for two hours, swooning away with a feeling of religion. The last noise I +heard was the whistling of a bullfinch. Some drivers of the Prince de +Ligne's waggons saw me, and in pity lifted me up and carried me to Namur. +Others of the prince's people carried me to Brussels. Here I found my +brother, who brought a surgeon and a doctor to attend to me. He told me of +the events of August 10, of the massacres of September, and other political +news of which I had not heard. He approved of my intention to go to Jersey, +and lent me twenty-five louis-d'or. We were looking on each other for the +last time.</p> + +<p>After reaching Jersey, I was four months dangerously ill in my uncle's +house, where I was tenderly nursed. Recovering, I went in 1793 to England, +landing as a poor émigré where now, in 1822, I write these +memoirs, and enjoy the dignity of ambassador.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Letters from the Dead</i></h4> + + +<p>Several of my family fell victims to the Revolution. I learned in July, +1783, that my mother, after having been thrown, at the age of seventy-two, +into a dungeon, where she witnessed the death of some of her children, +expired at length on a pallet, to which her misfortunes had consigned her. +The thoughts of my errors greatly embittered her last days, and on her +death-bed she charged one of my sisters to reclaim me to the religion in +which I had been educated. My sister Julie communicated my mother's last +wish to me. When this letter reached me in my exile, my sister herself was +no more; she, too, had sunk beneath the effects of her imprisonment. These +two voices, coming as it were from the grave--the dead interpreting the +dead--had a powerful effect on me. I became a Christian. I did not, indeed, +yield to any great supernatural light; my conviction came from my heart; I +wept, I believed.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="THE_EARL_OF_CHESTERFIELD"></a>THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Letters_to_His_Son"></a>Letters to His Son</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> A capable statesman, an accomplished diplomatist, and the +courtliest and best-bred man of his century, Philip Dormer Stanhope, fourth +Earl of Chesterfield, born on September 22, 1694, and dead March 24, 1773, +would have been almost forgotten at the present day but for the +preservation of his letters to his natural son, Philip Stanhope. It was the +ambition of Lord Chesterfield's life that this young man should be a +paragon of learning and manners. In a voluminous series of letters, more +than 400 of which are preserved, his father minutely directed his classical +and political studies, and, above all, instructed him with endless +insistence as to his bearing in society, impressed upon him the importance +of good breeding, the "graces," and the general deportment required of a +person of quality. The letters are a classic of courtliness and worldly +wisdom. They were prepared for the press by Philip Stanhope's widow, and +were published in 1774, under the title of "Letters Written by the Earl of +Chesterfield, together with Several other Pieces on Various Subjects." +Since then many editions have appeared, bearing such titles as "The Fine +Gentleman," "The Elements of Polite Education," etc. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--On Manners and Address</i></h4> + + +<p>London, <i>December</i> 29, 1747. I have received two letters from you +of the 17th and 22nd, by the last of which I find that some of mine to you +must have miscarried; for I have never been above two posts without writing +to you or to Mr. Harte, and even very long letters. I have also received a +letter from Mr. Harte, which gives me great satisfaction; it is full of +your praises.</p> + +<p>Your German will go on, of course; and I take it for granted that your +stay at Leipsig will make you a perfect master of that language, both as to +speaking and writing; for remember, that knowing any language imperfectly +is very little better than not knowing it at all, people being as unwilling +to speak in a language which they do not possess thoroughly as others are +to hear them.</p> + +<p>Go to the Duchess of Courland's as often as she and your leisure will +permit. The company of women of fashion will improve your manners, though +not your understanding; and that complaisance and politeness, which are so +useful in men's company, can only be acquired in women's.</p> + +<p>Remember always what I have told you a thousand times, that all the +talents in the world will want all their lustre, and some part of their +use, too, if they are not advanced with that easy good-breeding, that +engaging manner, and those graces, which seduce and prepossess people in +your favour at first sight. A proper care of your person is by no means to +be neglected; always extremely clean; upon proper occasions, fine. Your +carriage genteel, and your motions graceful. Take particular care of your +manners and address when you present yourself in company. Let them be +respectful without meanness, easy without too much familiarity, genteel +without affectation, and insinuating without any seeming art or design.... +Adieu!</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--On the Art of Pleasing</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Bath, March</i> 9, 1748. I must from time to time remind you of what +I have often recommended to you, and of what you cannot attend to too much: +sacrifice to the graces. Intrinsic merit alone will not do; it will gain +you the general esteem of all, but not the particular affection, that is +the heart, of any. To engage the affections of any particular person you +must, over and above your general merit, have some particular merit to that +person; by services done, or offered; by expressions of regard and esteem; +by complaisance, attentions, etc., for him; and the graceful manner of +doing all these things opens the way to the heart, and facilitates, or +rather, insures, their effects.</p> + +<p>A thousand little things, not separately to be described, conspire to +form these graces, this <i>je ne scais quoi,</i> that always pleases. A +pretty person, a proper degree of dress, an harmonious voice, something +open and cheerful in the countenance, but without laughing; a distinct and +properly varied manner of speaking; all these things and many others are +necessary ingredients in the composition of the pleasing <i>je ne scais +quoi</i>, which everybody feels, though nobody can describe. Observe +carefully, then, what displeases or pleases you in others, and be persuaded +that, in general, the same things will please or displease them in you.</p> + +<p>Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you against it; and +I would heartily wish that you may often be seen to smile, but never heard +to laugh while you live. Frequent and loud laughter is the characteristic +of folly and ill-manners; it is the manner in which the mob express their +silly joy at silly things; and they call it being merry. In my mind there +is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as audible laughter. I am neither +of a melancholy nor a cynical disposition, and am as willing and as apt to +be pleased as anybody; but I am sure that since I have had the full use of +my reason nobody has ever heard me laugh. Many people, at first, from +awkwardness and <i>mauvaise honte</i>, have got a very disagreeable and +silly trick of laughing whenever they speak.</p> + +<p>This, and many other very disagreeable habits, are owing to <i>mauvaise +honte</i> at their first setting out in the world. They are ashamed in +company, and so disconcerted that they do not know what they do, and try a +thousand tricks to keep themselves in countenance; which tricks afterwards +grow habitual to them. Some put their fingers in their nose, others scratch +their heads, others twirl their hats; in short, every awkward, ill-bred +body has its tricks. But the frequency does not justify the thing, and all +these vulgar habits and awkwardness are most carefully to be guarded +against, as they are great bars in the way of the art of pleasing.</p> + +<p><i>London, September</i> 5, 1748. I have received yours, with the +enclosed German letter to Mr. Grevenkop, which he assures me is extremely +well written, considering the little time that you have applied yourself to +that language.</p> + +<p>St. Thomas's Day now draws near, when you are to leave Saxony and go to +Berlin. Berlin will be entirely a new scene to you, and I look upon it, in +a manner, as your first step into the great world; take care that step be +not a false one, and that you do not stumble at the threshold. You will +there be in more company than you have yet been; manners and attentions +will, therefore, be more necessary.</p> + +<p>You will best acquire these by frequenting the companies of people of +fashion; but then you must resolve to acquire them, in those companies, by +proper care and observation. When you go into good company--by good company +is meant the people of the first fashion of the place--observe carefully +their turn, their manners, their address; and conform your own to them. But +this is not all either; go deeper still; observe their characters, and pry +into both their hearts and their heads. Seek for their particular merit, +their predominant passion, or their prevailing weakness; and you will then +know what to bait your hook with to catch them.</p> + +<p>As women are a considerable, or, at least, a pretty numerous part of +company; and as their suffrages go a great way towards establishing a man's +character in the fashionable part of the world, which is of great +importance to the fortune and figure he proposes to make in it, it is +necessary to please them. I will, therefore, upon this subject, let you +into certain <i>arcana</i> that will be very useful for you to know, but +which you must, with the utmost care, conceal and never seem to know.</p> + +<p>Women, then, are only children of a larger growth; they have an +entertaining tattle, and sometimes wit; but for solid reasoning, good +sense, I never knew in my life one that had it, or who reasoned or acted +consequentially for four-and-twenty hours together. Some little passion or +humour always breaks in upon their best resolutions. Their beauty neglected +or controverted, their age increased or their supposed understandings +depreciated, instantly kindles their little passions, and overturns any +system of consequential conduct that in their most reasonable moments they +have been capable of forming. A man of sense only trifles with them, plays +with them, humours and flatters them, as he does with a sprightly, forward +child; but he neither consults them about nor trusts them with, serious +matters; though he often makes them believe that he does both, which is the +thing in the world that they are proud of.</p> + +<p>But these are secrets, which you must keep inviolably, if you would not, +like Orpheus, be torn to pieces by the whole sex. On the contrary, a man +who thinks of living in the great world must be gallant, polite, and +attentive to please the women. They have, from the weakness of men, more or +less influence in all courts; they absolutely stamp every man's character +in the <i>beau monde,</i> and make it either current, or cry it down, and +stop it in payment.</p> + +<p>It is, therefore, absolutely necessary to manage, please, and flatter +them; and never to discover the least mark of contempt, which is what they +never forgive; but in this they are not singular, for it is the same with +men, who will much sooner forgive an injustice than an insult.</p> + +<p>These are some of the hints which my long experience in the great world +enables me to give you, and which, if you attend to them, may prove useful +to you in your journey through it. I wish it may be a prosperous one; at +least, I am sure that it must be your own fault if it is not.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Secret of Good Breeding</i></h4> + + +<p><i>London, November</i> 3, 1749. From the time that you have had life, +it has been the principal and favourite object of mine to make you as +perfect as the imperfections of human nature will allow. In this view, I +have grudged no pains nor expense in your education, convinced that +education, more than nature, is the cause of that great difference which +you see in the characters of men. While you were a child I endeavoured to +form your heart habitually to virtue and honour, before your understanding +was capable of showing you their beauty and utility. Those principles, +which you then got, like your grammar rules, only by rote, are now, I am +persuaded, fixed and confirmed by reason.</p> + +<p>My next object was sound and useful learning. All that remains for me +then to wish, to recommend, to inculcate, to order, and to insist upon, is +good breeding, without which all your other qualifications will be lame, +unadorned, and to a certain degree unavailing. And here I fear, and have +too much reason to believe, that you are greatly deficient. The remainder +of this letter, therefore, shall be--and it will not be the last by a great +many--upon the subject of good breeding.</p> + +<p>A friend of yours and mine has very justly defined good breeding to be +the result of much good sense, some good nature, and a little self-denial +for the sake of others, and with a view to obtain the same indulgence from +them. Taking this for granted, as I think it cannot be disputed, it is +astonishing to me that anybody who has good sense and good nature, and I +believe you have both, can essentially fail in good breeding. As to the +modes of it, indeed, they vary according to persons and places and +circumstances, and are only to be acquired by observation and experience; +but the substance of it is everywhere and eternally the same. Good manners +are, to particular societies, what good morals are to society in general; +their cement and their security. And as laws are enacted to enforce good +morals, or, at least, to prevent the ill-effects of bad ones, so there are +certain rules of civility, universally implied and received, to enforce +good manners, and punish bad ones.</p> + +<p>Mutual complaisances, attentions, and sacrifices of little conveniences, +are as natural an implied compact between civilised people as protection +and obedience are between kings and subjects; whoever, in either case, +violates that compact justly forfeits all advantages arising from it. For +my own part, I really think that, next to the consciousness of doing a good +action, that of doing a civil one is the most pleasing; and the epithet +which I should covet the most, next to that of Aristides, would be that of +well-bred.</p> + +<p>I will conclude with these axioms:</p> + +<p>That the deepest learning, without good breeding, is unwelcome and +tiresome pedantry, and of use nowhere but in a man's own closet; and, +consequently, of little or no use at all.</p> + +<p>That a man who is not perfectly well-bred, is unfit for good company, +and therefore unwelcome in it; will consequently dislike it soon, +afterwards renounce it, and be reduced to solitude, or, what is +considerably worse, low and bad company.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Fruits of Observation</i></h4> + + +<p><i>London, September 22</i>, 1752. The day after the date of my last, I +received your letter of the 8th. I approve extremely of your intended +progress. I would have you see everything with your own eyes, and hear +everything with your own ears, for I know, by very long experience, that it +is very unsafe to trust to other people's, Vanity and interest cause many +misrepresentations, and folly causes many more. Few people have parts +enough to relate exactly and judiciously; and those who have, for some +reason or other, never fail to sink or to add some circumstances.</p> + +<p>The reception which you have met with at Hanover I look upon as an omen +of your being well-received everywhere else, for, to tell you the truth, it +was the place that I distrusted the most in that particular. But there is a +certain conduct, there are <i>certaines manières</i>, that will, and +must, get the better of all difficulties of that kind. It is to acquire +them that you still continue abroad, and go from court to court; they are +personal, local, and temporal; they are modes which vary, and owe their +existence to accidents, whim, and humour. All the sense and reason in the +world would never point them out; nothing but experience, observation, and +what is called knowledge of the world can possibly teach them.</p> + +<p>This knowledge is the true object of a gentleman's travelling, if he +travels as he ought to do. By frequent good company in every country he +himself becomes of every country; he is no longer an Englishman, a +Frenchman, or an Italian; but he is a European. He adopts respectively the +best manners of every country, and is a Frenchman at Paris, an Italian at +Rome, an Englishman at London.</p> + +<p>This advantage, I must confess, very seldom accrues to my countrymen +from their travelling, as they have neither the desire nor the means of +getting into good company abroad; for, in the first place, they are +confoundedly bashful; and, in the next place, they either speak no foreign +language at all, or, if they do, it is barbarously. You possess all the +advantages that they want; you know the languages in perfection, and have +constantly kept the best company in the places where you have been, so that +you ought to be a European.</p> + +<p>There is, in all good company, a fashionable air, countenance, manner, +and phraseology, which can only be acquired by being in good company, and +very attentive to all that passes there. There is a certain distinguishing +diction of a man of fashion; he will not content himself with saying, like +John Trott, to a new-married man, "Sir, I wish you joy"--or to a man who +lost his son, "Sir I am sorry for your loss," and both with a countenance +equally unmoved; but he will say in effect the same thing in a more elegant +and less trivial manner, and with a countenance adapted to the occasion. He +will advance with warmth, vivacity, and a cheerful countenance to the +new-married man, and, embracing him, perhaps say to him, "If you do justice +to my attachment to you, you will judge of the joy that I feel upon this +occasion better than I can express it." To the other, in affliction, he +will advance slowly, with a grave composure of countenance, in a more +deliberate manner, and with a lower voice perhaps, say, "I hope you do me +the justice to be convinced that I feel whatever you feel, and shall ever +be affected where you are concerned."</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--On the Arts</i></h4> + + +<p>Mr. Harte tells me that he intends to give you, by means of Signor +Vincentini, a general notion of civil and military architecture; with which +I am very well pleased. They are frequent subjects of conversation. I would +also have you acquire a liberal taste of the two liberal arts of painting +and sculpture. All these sorts of things I would have you know, to a +certain degree; but remember that they must only be the amusements, and not +the business, of a man of parts.</p> + +<p>As you are now in a musical country [Italy], where singing, fiddling, +and piping are not only the common topics of conversation but almost the +principal objects of attention, I cannot help cautioning you against giving +in to those--I will call them illiberal--pleasures, though music is +commonly reckoned one of the liberal arts, to the degree that most of your +countrymen do when they travel in Italy. If you love music, hear it; go to +operas, concerts, and pay fiddlers to play to you, but I insist upon your +neither piping nor fiddling yourself. It puts a gentleman in a very +frivolous, contemptible light, brings him into a great deal of bad company, +and takes up a great deal of time which might be much better employed.</p> + +<p>I confess I cannot help forming some opinion of a man's sense and +character from his dress, and I believe most people do as well as myself. A +man of sense carefully avoids any particular character in his dress; he is +accurately clean for his own sake; but all the rest is for other people's. +He dresses as well, and in the same manner, as the people of sense and +fashion of the place where he is. If he dresses better, as he thinks, that +is, more than they, he is a fop; if he dresses worse, he is unpardonably +negligent; but of the two, I would rather have a young fellow too much than +too little dressed--the excess on that side will wear off with a little +age; but if he is negligent at twenty, he will be a sloven at forty, and +stink at fifty years old.</p> + +<p>As to the genius of poetry, I own, if Nature has not given it you, you +cannot have it, for it is a true maxim that <i>Poeta nascitur non fit</i>. +It is much otherwise with oratory, and the maxim there is <i>Orator +fit</i>, for it is certain that by study and application every man can make +himself a pretty good orator, eloquence depending upon observation and +care. Every man, if he pleases, may choose good words instead of bad ones, +may speak properly instead of improperly, may be clear and perspicuous in +his recitals instead of dark and muddy, may have grace instead of +awkwardness in his motions and gestures, and, in short, may be a very +agreeable instead of a very disagreeable speaker if he will take care and +pains. And surely it is very well worth while to take a great deal of pains +to excel other men in that particular article in which they excel +beasts.</p> + +<p>That ready wit, which you so partially allow me, and so justly Sir +Charles Williams, may create many admirers; but, take my word for it, it +makes few friends. It shines and dazzles like the noonday sun, but, like +that, too, is very apt to scorch, and therefore is always feared. The +milder morning and evening light and heat of that planet soothe and calm +our minds. Never seek for wit; if it presents itself, well and good; but +even in that case, let your judgement interpose, and take care that it be +not at the expense of anybody.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="MARCUS_TULLIUS_CICERO"></a>MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO</h2> + + +<h3><a name="The_Letters_of_Cicero"></a>The Letters of Cicero</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Marcus Tullius Cicero was born on January 3, 106 B.C. +Educated under the best teachers in the Greek culture of the day, he won a +speedy reputation at the Bar and developed a keen interest in the various +schools of Greek philosophy. His able and intrepid exposure of Catiline's +conspiracy brought him the highest popularity, but he was attacked, in +turn, by the ignoble Clodius, who obtained his banishment in 58 B.C. In the +ensuing conflict between Cæsar and Pompey, Cicero was attached to the +party of Pompey and the senate, as against Cæsar and the people. He +kept clear of the conspiracy against Cæsar's life, but after the +assassination he undertook an oratorical campaign against Antony, and was +entrusted with the government of the city. But on the return of the +triumvirate, Octavianus, Antony, and Lepidus, Cicero's name was included in +the list of those who were to be done away, and he was murdered in the year +43 B.C., at 63 years of age. The correspondence of the great Roman +advocate, statesman, and man of letters, preserved for us by the care of +his freedman Tiro, is the richest and most interesting collection of its +kind in the world's archives. The many-sided personality of their writer, +his literary charm, the frankness with which he set down his opinions, +hopes, and anxieties, the profound historical interest of this period of +the fall of the republic, and the intimate glimpses which we get of Roman +life and manners, combine to make Cicero's "Letters" perennially +attractive. The series begins in B.C. 68, when Cicero was 38 years of age, +and runs on to within a short time of his death in B.C. 43. The letters, of +which there are 800, are addressed to several correspondents, of whom the +most frequent and important is Titus Pomponius, surnamed Atticus, whose +sister had married Cicero's brother Quintus. Atticus was a wealthy and +cultivated man who had lived many years in Athens. He took no side in the +perilous politics of the time, but Cicero relied always on his affectionate +counsel, and on his ever-ready service in domestic matters. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>To Atticus</i></h4> + + +<p>There is nothing I need so much just now as someone with whom I may +discuss all my anxieties, someone with whom I may speak quite frankly and +without pretences. My brother, who is all candour and kindness, is away. +Metellus is empty as the air, barren as the desert. And you, who have so +often relieved my cares and sorrows by your conversation and counsel, and +have always been my support in politics and my confidant in all private +affairs, the partner of all my thoughts and plans--where are you?</p> + +<p>I am so utterly deserted that I have no other comfort but in my wife and +daughter and dear little Cicero. For those ambitious friendships with great +people are all show and tinsel, and contain nothing that satisfies +inwardly. Every morning my house swarms with visitors; I go down to the +Forum attended by troops of friends; but in the whole crowd there is no one +with whom I can freely jest, or whom I can trust with an intimate word. It +is for you that I wait; I need your presence; I even implore you to +come.</p> + +<p>I have a load of anxieties and troubles, of which, if you could listen +to them in one of our walks together, you would go far to relieve me. I +have to keep to myself the stings and vexations of my domestic troubles; I +dare not trust them to this letter and to an unknown courier. I don't want +you to think them greater than they are, but they haunt and worry me, and +there is no friendly counsel to alleviate them. As for the republic, though +my courage and will toward it are not diminished, yet it has again and +again itself evaded remedy. If I were to tell you all that has happened +since you went away, you would certainly say that the Roman state must be +nearing its fall. The Clodian scandal was, I think, the first episode after +your departure. On that occasion, thinking that I had an opportunity of +cutting down and restraining the licentiousness of the young men, I exerted +myself with all my might, and brought into play every power of my mind, not +in hostility to an individual, but in the hope of correcting and healing +the state. But a venal and profligate verdict in the matter has brought +upon the republic the gravest injury. And see what has taken place +since.</p> + +<p>A consul has been imposed upon us whom no one, unless a philosopher like +ourselves, can look at without a sigh. What an injury that is! Again, +although a decree of the senate with regard to bribery and corruption has +been passed, no law has been carried through; and the senate has been +harassed beyond endurance and the Roman knights have been alienated. So, in +one year, two pillars of the republic, which had been established by me +alone, have been overturned; the authority of the senate has been destroyed +and the concord of the two orders has been violated.</p> + + +<h4><i>To Lucius Lucceius, the Historian</i></h4> <h4>B.C. 56</h4> + + +<p>I have often intended to speak to you about the subject of this letter, +and have always been restrained by a certain awkward bashfulness. But a +letter will not blush; I can make my request at a distance. It is this: I +am incredibly eager, and, after all, there is nothing disgraceful in my +eagerness, that the history which you are writing should give prominence to +my name, and praise it frequently. You have often given me to understand +that I should receive that honour, but you must pardon my impatience to see +it actually conferred. I have always expected that your work would be of +great excellence, but the part which I have lately seen exceeds all that I +had imagined, and has inflamed me with the keenest desire that my career +should at once be celebrated in your records. What I desire is not only +that my name should go down to future ages, but also that even while I live +I may see my reputation endorsed by your authority and illumined by your +genius.</p> + +<p>Of course, I know very well that you are sufficiently occupied with the +period on which you are engaged. But, realising that your account of the +Italian and Marian civil wars is almost completed, and that you are already +entering upon our later annals, I cannot refrain from asking you to +consider whether it would be better to weave my career into the general +texture of your work, or to mould it into a distinct episode. Several Greek +writers have given examples of the latter method; thus Callisthenes, +Timaeus, and Polybius, treating respectively of the Trojan war, and of the +wars of Pyrrhus and of Numantia, detached their narratives of these +conflicts from their main treatises; and it is open to you, in a similar +way, to treat of the Catiline conspiracy independently of the main current +of your history.</p> + +<p>In suggesting this course, I do not suppose that it will make much +difference to my reputation; my point is rather that my desire to appear in +your work will be satisfied so much the earlier if you proceed to deal with +my affairs separately and by anticipation, instead of waiting until they +arise as elements in the general course of affairs. Besides, by +concentrating your mind on one episode and on one person, your matter will +be much more detailed and your treatment of it far more elaborate.</p> + +<p>I am conscious, of course, that my request is not exactly a modest one. +It is to lay a task on you which your occupations may well justify you in +refusing; and, again, it is to ask you to celebrate actions which you may +not think altogether worthy of so much honour. But having already passed +beyond the bounds of modesty, I may as well show myself boldly shameless. +Well, then, I implore you repeatedly, not only to praise my conduct more +warmly than may be justified by your feeling with regard to it, but even, +if necessary, to transgress the laws of history. One of your prefaces +indicates, most acceptably and plainly, your personal amity; but just as +Hercules, according to Xenophon, was incorruptible by pleasure, so you have +made a point of resisting the influence of private feeling. I ask you not +to resist this partiality; to give to affection somewhat more than truth +can afford.</p> + +<p>If I can prevail upon you to fall in with my proposal, I am confident +that you will find the subject not unworthy of your genius and of your +eloquence. The period from the rise of Catiline's conspiracy to my return +from banishment should furnish a memoir of moderate size, and the story of +my fortunes would supply you with a variety of incident, such as might be +made, in your hands, a work of great charm and interest. For these reasons +you will best meet my wishes if you determine to make a separate book out +of the drama of my life and fortunes.</p> + + +<h4><i>To Marcus Marius</i></h4> <h4>B.C. 55</h4> + + +<p>If it was ill-health that kept you from coming up to town for the games, +I must set down your absence to fortune and not to your own wisdom. But if +it was because you despise these shows which the world admires so much, +then I congratulate you on your health and your good sense alike. You were +left almost alone in your charming country, and I have no doubt that on +mornings when the rest of us, half asleep, were sitting out stale farces, +you were reading in your library.</p> + +<p>The games were magnificent, but not what you would have cared for. At +least, they were far from my taste. In honour of the occasion, certain +veteran actors returned to the stage, which they had left long ago, as I +imagined, in the interests of their own reputation. My old friend Aesop, in +particular, had failed so much that no one could be sorry he had retired; +his voice gave way altogether. AS for the rest of the festival, it was not +even so attractive as far less ambitious shows generally are; the pageants +were on such an enormous scale that light-hearted enjoyment was out of the +question. You need not mind having missed them. There is no pleasure, for +instance, in seeing six hundred mules at once in "Clytaemnestra," or a +whole army of gaily-dressed horse and foot engaged in a theatrical battle. +These spectacular effects delight the crowd, but not you. If you were +listening to your reader Protogenes, you had greater pleasure than fell to +any of us. The big-game hunts, continued through five days, were certainly +magnificent. Yet, after all, how can a person of any refinement enjoy +seeing a helpless man torn by a wild beast of enormous strength, or a noble +animal dying under a spear thrust? If there is anything worth seeing in +exhibitions of that kind, you have often seen it; there was nothing new to +me in all I saw. On the last day the elephants were brought out, and though +the populace were mightily astonished they were not by any means pleased. +On the contrary, a wave of pity went through them, and there was a general +impression that these great creatures have something in common with +man.</p> + + +<h4><i>To Atticus, in Rome</i></h4> <h4>Laodicea, B.C. 51</h4> + + +<p>I reached Laodicea on July 31, so you may reckon the year of my +government of the province from that day. Nothing could be more eagerly +awaited or more warmly welcomed than my arrival. But you would hardly +believe how the whole affair bores me. The wide scope of my mind has no +sufficient field, and my well-known industry is wasted here. Imagine! I +administer justice at Laodicea, while A. Plotius presides in the courts of +Rome! And while our friend is at the head of so great an army, I have, in +name only, two miserable legions! But all that is nothing; what I miss is +the glamour of life, the Forum, the city, my own house, and--you. But I +will bear it as best I can, so long as it is for one year only. If my term +is extended, it is all over with me. But this may easily be prevented, if +only you will stay in Rome.</p> + +<p>You ask about my doings. Well, I am living at enormous expense, and am +wonderfully pleased with my way of life. My strict abstinence from all +extortion, based on your counsels, is such that I shall probably have to +raise a loan to pay off what you lent me. My predecessor, Appius, has left +open wounds in the province; I refrain from irritating them. I am writing +on the eve of starting for the camp in Lycaonia, and thence I mean to +proceed to Mount Taurus to fight Maeragenes. All this is no proper burden +for me; but I will bear it. Only, as you love me, let it not exceed the +year.</p> + + +<h4><i>To Atticus, a Few Days Later</i></h4> <h4>Cilicia</h4> + + +<p>The couriers of the tax-farmers are just going, and, though I am +actually travelling on the road, I must steal a moment to assure you that I +have not forgotten your injunctions. I am sitting by the roadside to jot +down a few notes about matters which really need a long letter. I entered, +on July 31, with a most enthusiastic reception, into a devastated and +utterly ruined province. During the three days at Laodicea, three at +Apamea, and three at Synnada, I heard of nothing but the actual inability +of the people to pay the poll-tax; everywhere they have been sold up; the +towns were filled with groans and lamentations. They have been ravaged +rather by a wild beast than by a man. They are tired of life itself.</p> + +<p>Well, these unfortunate towns are a good deal relieved when they find +that neither I, nor my lieutenants, nor quaestor, nor any of my suite, is +costing them a penny. I not only refuse to accept forage, which is allowed +by the Julian law, but even firewood. We take from them not a single thing +except beds and a roof to cover us; and rarely so much even as that, for we +generally camp out in tents. The result is, we are welcomed by crowds +coming out to meet us from the countryside, the villages, the houses, +everywhere. By Hercules, the mere approach of your Cicero puts new life +into them, such reports have spread of his justice and moderation and +clemency! He has exceeded every expectation. I hear nothing of the +Parthians. We are hastening to join the army, which is two days +distant.</p> + + +<h4><i>To Marcus Caelius Rufus</i></h4> <h4>Asia, B.C. 50</h4> + + +<p>Nothing could have been more apt or judicious than your management of +the application to the senate for a public thanksgiving to me. The +arrangement of the matter has been just what I desired; not only has it +been passed through quickly, but Hirrus, your rival and mine, associated +himself with Cato's unbounded praise of my achievements. I have some hope +that this may lead to a triumph; you should be prepared for that.</p> + +<p>I am glad to hear that you think well of Dolabella and like him; and, as +you say, my Tullia's good sense may moderate him. May they be fortunate +together! I hope that he will prove a good son-in-law, and am sure that +your friendship will help to that end.</p> + +<p>About public affairs I am more anxious than I can say. I like Curio; I +hope Cæsar may prove himself an honourable man; for Pompey I would +willingly give my life; yet, after all, I love no man so dearly as I love +the republic. You do not seem to be taking any very prominent part in these +difficulties; but you are somewhat tied by being at once a good patriot and +a loyal friend.</p> + + +<h4><i>To Atticus, in Rome</i></h4> <h4>Athens, B.C. 50</h4> + + +<p>I arrived in Athens two days ago on my way home from my province, and +received your letter. I have been appalled by what you tell me about +Cæsar's legions. I beg you, in the name of fortune, to apply all your +love for me and all your incomparable wisdom to the consideration of my +whole situation. I seem to see a dreadful contest coming, unless some +divinity have pity on the republic--such a contest as has never been +before. I do not ask you to think of this catastrophe; after all, it is a +calamity for all the world as well as for me.</p> + +<p>What I want is that you should go into my personal dilemma. It was you +who advised me to secure the friendship of both parties; and much I wish +that I had attended from the first to your counsels. You persuaded me to +embrace the one, because he had done so much for me, and the other, because +he was powerful; and so I succeeded in engaging the affection of both.</p> + +<p>It seemed then quite clear that a friendship with Pompey need involve no +wrong to the republic, and that an allegiance to Cæsar implied no +hostility to Pompey--such, at that time, was their union. But now, as you +show and as I plainly see, there will be a duel to the death; and each, +unless one of them is feigning, regards me as his. Pompey has no doubt of +it, for he knows that I approve of his political principles. Moreover, I +have a letter from each of them, arriving at the same time as yours, +indicating that neither of them values anyone more than me. What am I to +do?</p> + +<p>If the worst comes to the worst, I know what to do. In the case of civil +war I am clear that it is better to be conquered with the one than to +conquer with the other. But I am in doubt how to meet the questions which +will be in active discussion when I arrive--whether he may be a candidate +in his absence from Rome, whether he must not dismiss his army, and so on. +When the president calls my name in the senate--"Speak, Marcus Tullius!" am +I to say, "Please wait until I have had a talk with Atticus"?</p> + +<p>The time for hedging has passed. Shall it be against Cæsar? What +then becomes of our pledges to one another? Or shall I change my political +opinions? I could not face Pompey, nor men and women--you yourself would be +the first to reproach me. You may laugh at what I am going to say. How I +wish I were even now back in my province! Though nothing could be more +disagreeable. By the way, I ought to tell you that all those virtues which +adorned the early days of my government, which your letters praised to the +skies, were very superficial. How difficult a thing is virtue!</p> + + +<h4><i>To L. Papirius</i></h4> <h4>Rome, B.C. 46</h4> + + +<p>I am writing at dinner at the house of Volumnius; we lay down at three +o'clock; your friends Atticus and Verrius are to my right and left. Are you +surprised that we pass the time of our bondage so gaily? What else should I +do? Tell me, student of philosophy! shall I make myself miserable? What +good would it serve, or how long would it last? But you say, "Spend your +days in reading." As a matter of fact, I do nothing else; it's my only way +to keep alive. But one cannot read all day; and when I have put away my +books I don't know any better way of spending the evening than at +dinner.</p> + +<p>I like dining out. I like to talk without restraint, saying just what +comes to my tongue, and laughing care and sorrow from my heart. You are no +more serious yourself. I heard how you mocked a grave philosopher when he +invited questions: you said that the question that haunted your mornings +was, "Where shall I dine to-day?" He thought, poor fool, that you were +going to ask whether there was one heaven or many.</p> + +<p>I give part of the day to reading or writing; then, not to shut myself +up from my friends, I dine with them. You need not be afraid of my coming; +you will receive a guest of more humour than appetite.</p> + + +<h4><i>To L. Minucius Basilus</i></h4> <h4>Rome, March, B.C. 44</h4> + + +<p>My congratulations! I rejoice with you! I love you! I have your +interests at heart! I pray you love me, and let me know how you are, and +what is happening. [Written to one of Cæsar's assassins; apparently, +immediately after the event.]</p> + + +<h4><i>To Atticus</i></h4> <h4>May, B.C. 44</h4> + + +<p>I see I have been a fool to take comfort in the Ides of March. We had +indeed the courage of men, but no more wisdom than children have. The tree +was cut down, but its roots remained, and it is springing up again. The +tyrant was removed, but the tyranny is with us still. Let us therefore +return to the "Tusculan Disputations" which you often quote, with their +reasons why death is not to be feared.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="SAMUEL_TAYLOR_COLERIDGE"></a>SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Biographia_Literaria"></a>Biographia Literaria</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born at Ottery St. Mary, in the +county of Devon, on October 21, 1772. He was educated at Christ Hospital +where Charles Lamb was among his friends. He read very widely but was +without any particular ambition or practical bent, and had undertaken to +apprentice himself to a shoemaker, when his head-master interfered. He +entered Jesus College, Cambridge, in 1791. During the second year of his +residence at the University, he left Cambridge, on account of an +unsuccessful love affair, and enlisted in the regiment of dragoons under an +assumed name. He soon secured his discharge from the army and went to +Bristol where he met Southey. In 1795 he married Miss Fricker, and removed +to Nether Stowey, a village in Somersetshire, where he wrote the "Ancient +Mariner" and the first part of "Christabel." While here he became a close +friend of Wordsworth. Coleridge originally intended his "Biographia +Literaria" to be a kind of apologia, in other words, to put forth his +claims for public recognition; and although he began the book with this +intention, it subsequently developed into a book containing some of his +most admirable criticism. He gives voice to a crowd of miscellaneous +reflections, suggested, as the work got under way, by popular events, +embracing politics, religion, philosophy, poetry, and also finally settling +the controversy that had arisen in respect of the "Lyrical Ballads." The +autobiographical parts of the "Biographia" are confined solely to his +intellectual experiences, and the influences to which his life was +subjected. As a treatise on criticism, especially on Wordsworth, the book +is of supreme importance. "Here," says Principal Shairp, "are canons of +judgement, not mechanical, but living." Published in 1817, it was followed +shortly after his death by a still more important edition with annotations +and an introduction by the poet's daughter Sara. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Nature of Poetic Diction</i></h4> + + +<p>Little of what I have here written concerns myself personally; the +narrative is designed chiefly to introduce my principles of politics, +religion, and poetry. But my special purpose is to decide what is the true +nature of poetic diction, and to define the real poetic character of the +works of Mr. Wordsworth, whose writings have been the subject of so much +controversy.</p> + +<p>At school I had the advantage of a very sensible though severe master. I +learned from him that poetry, even that of the loftiest odes, had a logic +of its own as severe as that of science, and more difficult, because more +subtle. In the truly great poets, he would say, there is a reason +assignable, not only for every word, but for the position of every word. In +our English compositions he showed no mercy to phrase, metaphor, or image, +where the same sense might have been conveyed with equal force and dignity +in plainer words. In fancy, I can almost hear him now exclaiming: "Harp? +Lyre? Pen and ink, boy, you mean!" Nay, certain introductions, similes, and +examples were placed by name on a list of interdiction.</p> + +<p>I had just entered my seventeenth year when the sonnets of Mr. Bowles +were made known to me, and the genial influence of his poetry, so tender, +yet so manly, so natural and real, yet so dignified and harmonious, +recalled me from a premature bewilderment in metaphysics and theology. Well +were it for me, perhaps, if I had never relapsed into the same mental +disease.</p> + +<p>The poetry of Pope and his followers, a school of French poetry +invigorated by English understanding, which had predominated from the last +century, consisted of prose thoughts translated into poetic language. I was +led to the conjecture that this style had been kept up by, if it did not +wholly arise from, the custom of writing Latin verses. I began to defend +the use of natural language, such as "I will remember thee," instead of +"Thy image on her wing, Before my fancy's eye shall memory bring;" and +adduced, as examples of simplicity, the diction of Greek poets, and of our +elder English poets, from Chaucer to Milton. I arrived at two critical +aphorisms, as the criteria of poetic style: first, that not the poem which +we have read with the greatest pleasure but that to which we return with +the greatest pleasure possesses the genuine power; and, second, that +whatever lines can be translated into other words of the same language, +without diminution of their significance, are so far vicious in their +diction.</p> + +<p>One great distinction between even the characteristic faults of our +elder poets and the false beauties of the moderns is this. In the former, +from Donne to Cowley, we find the most fantastic out-of-the-way thoughts, +but the most pure and genuine mother English; in the latter, the most +obvious thoughts, in language the most fantastic and arbitrary. Our faulty +elder poets sacrificed the passion, and passionate flow of poetry, to the +subtleties of intellect and to the starts of wit; the moderns to the glare +and glitter of a perpetual yet broken and heterogeneous imagery. The one +sacrificed the heart to the head, the other both heart and head to +drapery.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--In Praise of Southey</i></h4> + + +<p>Reflect on the variety and extent of his acquirements! He stands second +to no man, either as a historian or as a bibliographer; and when I regard +him as a popular essayist I look in vain for any writer who has conveyed so +much information, from so many and such recondite sources, with as many +just and original reflections, in a style so lively yet so uniformly +classical and perspicuous; no one, in short, who has combined so much +wisdom with so much wit; so much truth and knowledge with so much life and +fancy.</p> + +<p>Still more striking to those who are familiar with the general habits of +genius will appear the poet's matchless industry and perseverance in his +pursuits, the worthiness and dignity of those pursuits, his generous +submission to tasks of transitory interest. But as Southey possesses, and +is not possessed by, his genius, even so is he the master even of his +virtues. The regular and methodical tenor of his daily labours, which might +be envied by the mere man of business, lose all semblance of formality in +the dignified simplicity of his manners, in the spring and healthful +cheerfulness of his spirit. Always employed, his friends find him always at +leisure.</p> + +<p>No less punctual in trifles than steadfast in the performance of highest +duties, he inflicts none of those small pains and discomforts which +irregular men scatter about them, and which in the aggregate so often +become formidable obstacles both to happiness and utility. He bestows all +the pleasures, and inspires all that ease of mind on those around him, +which perfect consistency and absolute reliability cannot but bestow. I +know few men who so well deserve the character which an ancient attributes +to Marcus Cato--namely, that he was likest virtue, inasmuch as he seemed to +act aright, not in obedience to any law or outward motive, but by the +necessity of a happy nature which could not act otherwise.</p> + +<p>As a son, brother, husband, father, master, friend, he moves with firm +yet light steps, alike unostentatious and alike exemplary. As a writer, he +has uniformly made his talents subservient to the best interests of +humanity, of public virtue, and domestic piety; his cause has ever been the +cause of pure religion and of liberty, of national independence and of +national illumination.</p> + +<p>When future critics shall weigh out his guerdon of praise and censure, +it will be Southey the poet only that will supply them with the scanty +materials for the latter. They will not fail to record that as no man was +ever a more constant friend, never had poet more friends and honourers +among the good of all parties, and that quacks in education, quacks in +politics, and quacks in criticism, were his only enemies.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Wordsworth's Early Poems</i></h4> + + +<p>During the last year of my residence at Cambridge I became acquainted +with Mr. Wordsworth's first publication, entitled "Descriptive Sketches," +and seldom, if ever, was the emergence of an original poetic genius above +the literary horizon more evidently announced. In the whole poem there is a +harshness and acerbity, combined with words and images all aglow, which +might recall gorgeous blossoms rising out of a hard and thorny rind and +shell, within which the rich fruit was elaborating. The language was not +only peculiar and strong, but at times knotty and contorted, as by its own +impatient strength. It not seldom, therefore, justified the complaint of +obscurity.</p> + +<p>I was in my twenty-fourth year when I had the happiness of knowing Mr. +Wordsworth personally, and by that time the occasional obscurities which +had arisen from an imperfect control over the resources of his native +language had almost wholly disappeared, together with that worse defect of +arbitrary and illogical phrases, at once arbitrary and fantastic, which +alloy the earlier poems of the truest genius. There was only evident the +union of deep feeling with profound thought; and the original gift of +spreading the tone, the atmosphere, and with it the depth and height of the +ideal world, around forms, incidents, and situations of which, for the +common view, custom had bedimmed all the lustre, had dried up the sparkle +and the dewdrops.</p> + +<p>To find no contradiction in the union of old and new, to contemplate the +Ancient of Days and all His works With feelings as fresh as if all had then +sprung forth at the first creative fiat, characterises the mind that feels +the riddle of the world, and may help to unravel it. To carry on the +feelings of childhood into the powers of manhood, to combine the child's +sense of wonder and novelty with the appearances which every day for +perhaps forty years had rendered familiar--this is the character and +privilege of genius. And it is the prime merit of genius, and its most +unequivocal mode of manifestation, so to represent familiar objects as to +awaken in the minds of others that freshness of sensation which is the +constant accompaniment of mental, no less than of bodily, +convalescence.</p> + +<p>This excellence, which constitutes the character of Mr. Wordsworth's +mind, I no sooner felt than I sought to understand. Repeated meditations +led me to suspect that fancy and imagination were two distinct and widely +different faculties, instead of being, according to the general belief, the +lower and higher degree of one and the same power. Milton had a highly +imaginative, Cowley a very fanciful, mind. The division between fancy and +imagination is no less grounded in nature than that of delirium from mania; +or of Otway's</p> + +<blockquote> + Lutes, laurels, seas of milk, and ships amber,<br +/> +</blockquote> + +<p>from Shakespeare's</p> + +<blockquote> + What! Have his daughters brought him to this +pass?<br /> +</blockquote> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Philosophical Critic</i></h4> + + +<p>As materialism has been generally taught, it is utterly unintelligible, +and owes all its proselytes to the propensity, so common among men, to +mistake distinct images for clear conceptions, and, <i>vice +versâ</i>, to reject as inconceivable whatever from its own nature is +unimaginable. If God grant health and permission, this subject will be +treated of systematically in a work which I have many years been preparing +on the Productive Logos, human and divine, with, and as an introduction to, +a full commentary on the Gospel of St. John.</p> + +<p>To make myself intelligible, so far as my present subject, the +imagination, requires, it will be sufficient briefly to observe: (1) That +all association demands and presupposes the existence of the thoughts and +images to be associated. (2) The hypothesis of an external world exactly +correspondent to those images or modifications of our own being, which +alone--according to this system--we actually behold, is as thorough +idealism as Berkeley's, inasmuch as it equally removes all reality and +immediateness of perception, and places us in a dream-world of phantoms and +spectres, the inexplicable swarm and equivocal generation of motion in our +own brains. (3) That this hypothesis neither involves the explanation nor +precludes the necessity of a mechanism and co-adequate forces in the +percipient, which, at the more than magic touch of the impulse from +without, creates anew for himself the correspondent object. The formation +of a copy is not solved by the mere pre-existence of an original; the +copyist of Raffael's "Transfiguration" must repeat more or less perfectly +the process of Raffael.</p> + +<p>The imagination, therefore, is essentially creative. I consider +imagination either as primary or secondary. The primary imagination I hold +to be the living power and prime agent of all human perception, and as a +repetition in the finite mind of the eternal act of creation in the +infinite I AM.</p> + +<p>The secondary I consider as an echo of the former; it dissolves, +diffuses, dissipates, in order to re-create; or where this process is +rendered impossible, yet still, at all events, it struggles to idealise and +to unify. It is essentially vital, even as all objects are essentially +fixed and dead.</p> + +<p>Fancy, on the contrary, has no other counters to play with but fixities +and definites. The fancy is no other than a mode of memory emancipated from +the order of time and space, and blended with, and modified by, choice. +But, equally with the ordinary memory, it must receive its materials ready +made, from the law of association.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--What is a Poem?</i></h4> + + +<p>During the first year that Mr. Wordsworth and I were neighbours our +conversations turned frequently on the two cardinal points of poetry--the +power of exciting the sympathy of the reader by a faithful adherence to the +truth of Nature, and the power of giving the interest of novelty by the +modifying colours of imagination. The sudden charm which accidents of light +and shade, moonlight or sunset, diffuse over a familiar landscape appeared +to represent the practicability of combining both.</p> + +<p>The thought suggested itself that a series of poems might be composed of +two sorts. In the one the incidents and agents were to be, in part at +least, supernatural; and the excellence aimed at was to consist in the +interesting of the affections by the dramatic truth of such emotions as +would naturally accompany such situations. For the second class, subjects +were to be chosen from ordinary life; the characters and incidents were to +be such as will be found in every village and its vicinity where there is a +meditative and feeling mind to seek them.</p> + +<p>In this idea originated the plan of the "Lyrical Ballads," in which my +endeavours were to be directed to persons and characters supernatural, or +at least romantic. Mr. Wordsworth, on the other hand, was to attempt to +give the charm of novelty to things of every day, and to excite a feeling +analogous to the supernatural by awakening the mind's attention from the +lethargy of custom, and directing it to the loveliness and the wonders of +the world before us--an inexhaustible treasure, but for which, in +consequence of the film of familiarity and selfish solicitude, we have +eyes, yet see not, and hearts that neither feel nor understand.</p> + +<p>With this view I wrote the "Ancient Mariner," and was preparing, among +other poems, the "Dark Ladie" and "Christabel." But the number of Mr. +Wordsworth's poems was so much greater that my compositions appeared rather +an interpolation of heterogeneous matter.</p> + +<p>With many parts of Mr. Wordsworth's preface to the "Lyrical Ballads," in +which he defines his poetic creed, I have never concurred, and I think it +expedient to declare in what points I coincide with his opinions, and in +what points I differ.</p> + +<p>A poem contains the same elements as a prose composition; the +difference, therefore, must consist in a different combination of them, in +consequence of a different object proposed. The mere addition of metre does +not in itself entitle a work to the name of poem, for nothing can +permanently please which does not contain in itself the reason why it is so +and not otherwise. Our definition of a poem may be thus worded. "A poem is +that species of composition which is opposed to works of science, by +proposing for its immediate object pleasure, not truth; and from all other +species (having this object in common with it) it is discriminated by +proposing to itself such delight from the whole as is compatible with a +distinct gratification from each component part."</p> + +<p>For, in a legitimate poem, the parts must mutually support and explain +each other; all in their proportion harmonising with, and supporting the +purpose and known influences of, metrical arrangement.</p> + + +<h4><i>VI.--A Criticism of Wordsworth</i></h4> + + +<p>Let me enumerate the prominent defects, and then the excellences, of Mr. +Wordsworth's published poems. The first characteristic, though only an +occasional defect, is the inconstancy of style; the sudden and unprepared +transitions from lines or sentences of peculiar felicity to a style not +only unimpassioned, but undistinguished. He sinks too often, too abruptly, +into the language of prose. The second defect is a certain +matter-of-factness in some of his poems, consisting in a laborious +minuteness and fidelity in the representations of objects, and in the +insertion of accidental circumstances, such as are superfluous in poetry. +Thirdly, there is in certain poems an undue predilection for the dramatic +form; and in these cases either the thoughts and diction are different from +those of the poet, so that there arises an incongruity of style, or they +are the same and indistinguishable, and then it presents a species of +ventriloquism. The fourth class includes prolixity, repetition, and an +eddying instead of progression of thought. His fifth defect is the +employment of thoughts and images too great for the subject; an +approximation to what might be called mental bombast, as distinguished from +verbal.</p> + +<p>To these occasional defects I may oppose the following excellences. +First, an austere purity of language both grammatically and logically; in +short, a perfect appropriateness of the words to the meaning. Secondly, a +correspondent weight and sanity of the thoughts and sentiments, won not +from books, but from the poet's own meditative observation. They are fresh, +and have the dew upon them. Third, the sinewy strength and originality of +single lines and paragraphs; the frequent curious felicity of his diction. +Fourth, the perfect truth of Nature in his images and descriptions as taken +immediately from Nature, and proving a long and genial intimacy with the +very spirit which gives the expression to all the works of nature. Like a +green field reflected in a calm and perfectly transparent lake, the image +is distinguished from the reality only by its greater softness and +lustre.</p> + +<p>Fifth, a meditative pathos, a union of deep and subtle thought with +sensibility; a sympathy with man as man; the sympathy of a contemplator, +from whose view no difference of rank conceals the sameness of the nature; +no injuries of wind or weather, of toil, or even of ignorance, wholly +disguise the human face divine. The superscription and the image of the +Creator still remain legible to him under the dark lines with which guilt +or calamity had cancelled or cross-barred it. In this mild and philosophic +pathos, Wordsworth appears to me without a compeer.</p> + +<p>Lastly, and pre-eminently, I challenge for this poet the gift of +imagination in the highest and strictest sense of the word. In the play of +fancy, Wordsworth, to my feelings, is not always graceful, and is sometimes +recondite. But in imaginative power he stands nearest of all modern writers +to Shakespeare and Milton; and yet in a kind perfectly unborrowed and his +own. To employ his own words, he does indeed to all thoughts and to all +objects</p> + +<blockquote> + Add the gleam,<br /> + +The light that never was on sea or land,<br /> +The consecration, and the poet's dream.<br /> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_COWPER"></a>WILLIAM COWPER</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Letters_Written_in_the_Years_1782-1790"></a>Letters Written in +the Years 1782-1790</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> William Cowper, son of a chaplain to George II., was born +at Berkhampstead Parsonage on November 15, 1731. After being educated at +Westminster School, he studied law for three years, and in 1752 took up his +residence, for a further course, in the Middle Temple. Though called to the +Bar in 1754, he never practised, for he profoundly hated law, while he +passionately loved literary pursuits. His friends having provided him with +sufficient funds for subsistence, in addition to a small patrimony left by +his father, Cowper went to live at Huntingdon, where he formed a deep +attachment with the Unwin family, which proved to be a lifelong friendship. +The latter years of his life were spent at Olney. He achieved wide fame by +the publication of "The Task," which was pronounced by many critics the +greatest poem of the period. The main characteristics of his style are its +simplicity, its sympathy with nature and with ordinary life, and its +unaffected devotional accent. But Cowper is now appreciated more for his +incomparably delightful epistles to his friends than for his poetry. Few +letters in our language can compare with these for incisive but kindly and +gentle irony; innocent but genuine fun; keen and striking acumen, and +tender melancholy. Cowper died on April 25, 1800. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>To the Rev. John Newton</i></h4> + + +<p>Olney, <i>January</i> 13, 1782. I am rather pleased that you have +adopted other sentiments respecting our intended present to Dr. Johnson. I +allow him to be a man of gigantic talents and most profound learning, nor +have I any doubts about the universality of his knowledge; but, by what I +have seen of his animadversions on the poets, I feel myself much disposed +to question, in many instances, either his candour or his taste.</p> + +<p>He finds fault too often, like a man that, having sought it very +industriously, is at last obliged to stick it on a pin's point, and look at +it through a microscope; and I could easily convict him of having denied +many beauties, and overlooked more. Whether his judgement be in itself +defective, or whether it be warped by collateral considerations, a writer +upon such subjects as I have chosen would probably find but little mercy at +his hands.</p> + + +<h4><i>To the Rev. William Unwin</i></h4> + + +<p>I say amen, with all my heart, to your observations on religious +characters. Men who profess themselves adepts in mathematical knowledge, in +astronomy, or jurisprudence, are generally as well qualified as they would +appear. The reason may be that they are always liable to detection should +they attempt to impose upon mankind, and therefore take care to be what +they pretend. In religion alone a profession is often taken up and slovenly +carried on, because, forsooth, candour and charity require us to hope the +best, and to judge favourably of our neighbour, and because it is easy to +deceive the ignorant, who are a great majority, upon this subject.</p> + +<p>Let a man attach himself to a particular party, contend furiously for +what are properly called evangelical doctrines, and enlist himself under +the banner of some popular preacher, and the business is done. Behold a +Christian! a saint! a phoenix! In the meantime, perhaps, his heart and his +temper, and even his conduct, are unsanctified; possibly less exemplary +than those of some avowed infidels. No matter--he can talk--he has the +shibboleth of the true Church--the Bible in his pocket, and a head well +stored with notions.</p> + +<p>But the quiet, humble, modest, and peaceable person, who is in his +practice what the other is only in his profession, who hates a noise, and +therefore makes none; who, knowing the snares that are in the world, keeps +himself as much out of it as he can, is the Christian that will always +stand highest in the estimation of those who bring all characters to the +test of true wisdom, and judge of the tree by its fruit.</p> + + +<h4><i>To the Same</i></h4> + + +<p>Olney, <i>August</i> 3, 1782. It is a sort of paradox, but it is true; +we are never more in danger than when we think ourselves most secure, nor +in reality more secure than when we seem to be most in danger. Both sides +of this apparent contradiction were lately verified in my experience. +Passing from the greenhouse to the barn, I saw three kittens--for we have +so many in our retinue--looking with fixed attention on something which lay +on the threshold of a door nailed up. I took but little notice of them at +first, but a loud hiss engaged me to attend more closely, when behold--a +viper! the largest that I remember to have seen, rearing itself, darting +its forked tongue, and ejaculating the aforesaid hiss at the nose of a +kitten, almost in contact with his lips. I ran into the hall for a hoe with +a long handle, with which I intended to assail him, and, returning in a few +minutes, missed him; he was gone, and I feared had escaped me. Still, +however, the kitten sat, watching immovably, on the same spot. I concluded, +therefore, that, sliding between the door and the threshold, he had found +his way out of the garden into the yard.</p> + +<p>I went round, and there found him in close conversation with the old +cat, whose curiosity, being excited by so novel an appearance, inclined her +to pat his head repeatedly with her fore foot, with her claws, however, +sheathed, and not in anger, but in the way of philosophic inquiry and +examination. To prevent her falling a victim to so laudable an exercise of +her talents, I interposed in a moment with the hoe, and performed on him an +act of decapitation which, though not immediately mortal, proved so in the +end.</p> + +<p>Had he slid into the passages, where it is dark, or had he indeed, when +in the yard, met with no interruption from the cat, and secreted himself in +any of the out-houses, it is hardly possible but that some member of the +family must have been bitten.</p> + + +<h4><i>To the Same</i></h4> + + +<p>Olney, <i>November</i> 4, 1782. You tell me that John Gilpin made you +laugh to tears, and that the ladies at court are delighted with my poems. +Much good may they do them! May they become as wise as the writer wished +them, and they will be much happier than he. I know there is in the book +that wisdom that cometh from above, because it was from above that I +received it. May they receive it too! For whether they drink it out of the +cistern, or whether it falls upon them immediately from the clouds--as it +did on me--is all one. It is the water of life, which whosoever shall drink +it shall thirst no more. As to the famous horseman above mentioned, he and +his feats are an inexhaustible source of merriment. At least we find him +so, and seldom meet without refreshing ourselves with the recollection of +them. You are at liberty to deal with them as you please.</p> + + +<h4><i>To Mrs. Newton</i></h4> + + +<p>Olney, <i>November</i> 23, 1782. Accept my thanks for the trouble you +take in vending my poems, and still more for the interest you take in their +success. To be approved by the great, as Horace observed many years ago, is +fame indeed.</p> + +<p>The winter sets in with great severity. The rigour of the season, and +the advanced price of grain, are very threatening to the poor. It is well +with those that can feed upon a promise, and wrap themselves up warm in the +robe of salvation. A good fireside and a well-spread table are but very +indifferent substitutes for those better accommodations; so very +indifferent, that I would gladly exchange them both for the rags and the +unsatisfied hunger of the poorest creature that looks forward with hope to +a better world, and weeps tears of joy in the midst of penury and +distress.</p> + +<p>What a world is this! How mysteriously governed, and in appearance left +to itself! One man, having squandered thousands at a gaming-table, finds it +convenient to travel; gives his estate to somebody to manage for him; +amuses himself a few years in France and Italy; returns, perhaps, wiser +than he went, having acquired knowledge which, but for his follies, he +would never have acquired; again makes a splendid figure at home, shines in +the senate, governs his country as its minister, is admired for his +abilities, and, if successful, adored at least by a party. When he dies, he +is praised as a demi-god, and his monument records everything but his +vices.</p> + +<p>The exact contrary of such a picture is to be found in many cottages at +Olney. I have no need to describe them; you know the characters I mean. +They love God, they trust Him, they pray to Him in secret, and, though He +means to reward them openly, the day of recompense is delayed. In the +meantime, they suffer everything that infirmity and poverty can inflict +upon them. Who would suspect, that has not a spiritual eye to discern it, +that the fine gentleman was one whom his Maker had in abhorrence, and the +wretch last mentioned dear to Him as the apple of His eye?</p> + +<p>It is no wonder that the world, who are not in the secret, find +themselves obliged, some of them, to doubt a Providence, and others +absolutely to deny it, when almost all the real virtue there is in it is to +be found living and dying in a state of neglected obscurity, and all the +vices of others cannot exclude them from worship and honour. But behind the +curtain the matter is explained, very little, however, to the satisfaction +of the great.</p> + + +<h4><i>To the Rev. John Newton</i></h4> + + +<p>Olney, <i>January</i> 26, 1783. It is reported among persons of the best +intelligence at Olney--the barber, the schoolmaster, and the drummer of a +corps quartered at this place--that the belligerent powers are at last +reconciled, the articles of the treaty adjusted, and that peace is at the +door.</p> + +<p>The powers of Europe have clashed with each other to a fine purpose. +Your opinions and mine, I mean our political ones, are not exactly of a +piece, yet I cannot think otherwise on this subject than I have always +done. England, more perhaps through the fault of her generals than her +councils, has in some instances acted with a spirit of cruel animosity she +was never chargeable with till now. But this is the worst that can be +said.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, the Americans, who, if they had contented themselves +with a struggle for lawful liberty, would have deserved applause, seem to +me to have incurred the guilt of parricide, by renouncing their parent, by +making her ruin their favourite object, and by associating themselves with +her worst enemy for the accomplishment of their purpose. France, and, of +course, Spain, have acted a treacherous, a thievish part. They have stolen +America from England, and, whether they are able to possess themselves of +that jewel or not hereafter, it was doubtless what they intended. Holland +appears to me in a meaner light than any of them. They quarrelled with a +friend for an enemy's sake. The French led them by the nose, and the +English have thrashed them for suffering it.</p> + +<p>My views of the contest being as they have always been, I have +consequently brighter hopes for England than her situation some time since +seemed to justify. She is the only injured party.</p> + +<p>America may perhaps call her the aggressor; but, if she were so, America +has not only repelled the injury, but done a greater. As to the rest, if +perfidy, treachery, avarice, and ambition can prove their cause to have +been a rotten one, those proofs are found on them. I think, therefore, +that, whatever scourge may be prepared for England on some future day, her +ruin is not yet to be expected.</p> + + +<h4><i>To the Same</i></h4> + + +<p>Olney, <i>November</i> 17, 1783. Swift observes, when he is giving his +reasons why the preacher is elevated always above his hearers, that, let +the crowd be as great as it will below, there is always room enough +overhead.</p> + +<p>If the French philosophers can carry their art of flying to the +perfection they desire, the observation may be reversed, the crowd will be +overhead, and they will have most room who stay below. I can assure you, +however, upon my own experience, that this way of travelling is very +delightful.</p> + +<p>I dreamt a night or two since that I drove myself through the upper +regions in a balloon and pair, with the greatest ease and security. Having +finished the tour I intended, I made a short turn, and with one flourish of +my whip, descended; my horses prancing and curvetting with an infinite +share of spirit, but without the least danger either to me or my vehicle. +The time, we may suppose, is at hand, and seems to be prognosticated by my +dream, when these airy excursions will be universal, when judges will fly +the circuit and bishops their visitations, and when the tour of Europe will +be performed with much greater speed and with equal advantage by all who +travel merely for the sake of saying that they have made it.</p> + + +<h4><i>To His Cousin, Lady Hesketh</i></h4> + + +<p>Olney, <i>November</i> 9, 1785. I am happy that my poems have pleased +you. My volume has afforded me no such pleasure at any time, either while I +was writing it or since its publication, as I have derived from yours and +my uncle's opinion of it. But, above all, I honour John Gilpin, since it +was he who first encouraged you to write. I made him on purpose to laugh +at, and he served his purpose well.</p> + + +<h4><i>To the Same</i></h4> + + +<p>Olney, <i>February</i> 9, 1786. Let me tell you that your kindness in +promising to visit us has charmed us both. I shall see you again. I shall +hear your voice. We shall take walks together. I will show you my +prospects, the hovel, the alcove, the banks of the Ouse, everything I have +described. My dear, I will not let you come till the end of May, or the +beginning of June, because, before that time my greenhouse will not be +ready to receive us, and it is the only pleasant room belonging to us. When +the plants go out, we go in.</p> + +<p>I will tell you what you shall find at your first entrance. +<i>Imprimis</i>, as soon as you have entered the vestibule, if you cast a +look on either side of you, you shall see on the right hand a box of my +making. It is the box in which have been lodged all my hares, and in which +lodges Puss at present. But he, poor fellow, is worn out with age, and +promises to die before you can see him.</p> + +<p>My dear, I have told Homer what you say about casks and urns, and have +asked him whether he is sure that it is a cask in which Jupiter keeps his +wine. He swears that it is a cask, and that it will never be anything +better than a cask to all eternity. So if the god is content with it, we +must even wonder at his taste and be so too.</p> + + +<h4><i>To the Same</i></h4> + + +<p>Olney, <i>March</i> 6, 1786. Your opinion has more weight with me than +that of all the critics in the world. To give you a proof of it, I make you +a concession that I would hardly have made to them all united. I do not +indeed absolutely covenant that I will discard all my elisions, but I +hereby bind myself to discard as many of them as, without sacrificing +energy to sound, I can. It is incumbent on me, in the meantime, to say +something in justification of the few I shall retain, that I may not seem a +poet mounted on a mule rather than on Parnassus. In the first place, "the" +is a barbarism. We are indebted for it to the Celts, or the Goths, or the +Saxons, or perhaps to them all. In the two best languages that ever were +spoken, the Greek and the Latin, there is no similar encumbrance of +expression to be found. Secondly, the perpetual use of it in our language +is, to us miserable poets, attended with two great inconveniences.</p> + +<p>Our verse consisting of only ten syllables, it not infrequently happens +that the fifth part of a line is to be engrossed, and necessarily too, +unless elision prevents it, by this abominable intruder; and, which is +worse in my account, open vowels are continually the +consequence--<i>the</i> element--<i>the</i> air, etc. Thirdly, the French, +who are equally chargeable with the English with barbarism in this +particular, dispose of their <i>le</i> and their <i>la</i> without +ceremony, and always take care that they shall be absorbed, both in verse +and in prose, in the vowel that immediately follows them. Fourthly, and I +believe lastly, the practice of cutting short "the" is warranted by Milton, +who of all English poets that ever lived, had certainly the finest ear.</p> + +<p>Thou only critic of my verse that is to be found in all the earth, whom +I love, what shall I say in answer to your own objection to that +passage--</p> + +<blockquote> + Softly he placed his hand<br /> + +On th' old man's hand, and pushed it gently away.<br /> +</blockquote> + +<p>I can say neither more nor less than this, that when our dear friend the +general sent me his opinion on the specimen, quoting those very words from +it, he added, "With this part I was particularly pleased; there is nothing +in poetry more descriptive."</p> + +<p>Taste, my dear, is various; there is nothing so various, and even +between persons of the best taste there are diversities of opinion on the +same subject, for which it is by no means possible to account.</p> + + +<h4><i>To John Johnson, Esq.</i></h4> + + +<p>Weston, <i>June</i> 7, 1790. You never pleased me more than when you +told me you had abandoned your mathematical pursuits. It grieved me to +think that you were wasting your time merely to gain a little Cambridge +fame, not worth having. I cannot be contented that your renown should +thrive nowhere but on the banks of the Cam. Conceive a nobler ambition, and +never let your honour be circumscribed by the paltry dimensions of a +university! It is well that you have already, as you observe, acquired +sufficient information in that science to enable you to pass creditably +such examinations as, I suppose, you must hereafter undergo. Keep what you +have gotten, and be content.</p> + +<p>You could not apply to a worse than I am to advise you concerning your +studies. I was never a regular student myself, but lost the most valuable +years of my life in an attorney's office and in the Temple. It seems to me +that your chief concern is with history, natural philosophy, logic, and +divinity. As to metaphysics, I know little about them. Life is too short to +afford time even for serious trifles. Pursue what you know to be +attainable, make truth your object, and your studies will make you a wise +man. Let your divinity, if I may advise, be the divinity of the glorious +Reformation. I mean in contradiction to Arminianism, and all the +<i>isms</i> that were ever broached in this world of ignorance and +error.</p> + + +<h4><i>Obiter Dicta</i></h4> + + +<p>Men of lively imaginations are not often remarkable for solidity of +judgement. They have strong passions to bias it, and are led far away from +their proper road, in pursuit of petty phantoms of their own creating.</p> + +<p>Excellence is providentially placed beyond the reach of indolence, that +success may be the reward of industry, and that idleness may be punished +with obscurity and disgrace.</p> + +<p>I do not think that in these costermonger days, as I have a notion +Falstaff calls them, an antediluvian age is at all a desirable thing, but +to live comfortably while we do live is a great matter, and comprehends in +it everything that can be wished for on this side the curtain that hangs +between time and eternity.</p> + +<p>Wherever there is war, there is misery and outrage; notwithstanding +which, it is not only lawful to wish, but even a duty to pray for the +success of one's country. And as to the neutralities, I really think the +Russian virago an impertinent puss for meddling with us, and engaging half +a score kittens of her acquaintance to scratch the poor old lion, who, if +he has been insolent in his day, has probably acted no otherwise than they +themselves would have acted in his circumstances and with his power to +embolden them.</p> + +<p>Though a Christian is not to be quarrelsome, he is not to be crushed. +Though he is but a worm before God, he is not such a worm as every selfish +and unprincipled wretch may tread on at his pleasure.</p> + +<p>St. Paul seems to condemn the practice of going to law. "Why do ye not +suffer wrong, etc." But if we look again we shall find that a litigious +temper prevailed among the professors of that day. Surely he did not mean, +any more than his Master, that the most harmless members of society should +receive no advantage of its laws, or should be the only persons in the +world who should derive no benefit from those institutions without which +society cannot subsist.</p> + +<p>Tobacco was not known in the Golden Age. So much the worse for the +Golden Age. This age of iron and lead would be insupportable without it; +and therefore we may reasonably suppose that the happiness of those better +days would have been much improved by the use of it.</p> + +<p>No man was ever scolded out of his sins. The heart, corrupt as it is, +and because it is so, grows angry if it be not treated with some management +and good manners, and scolds again. A surly mastiff will bear perhaps to be +stroked, though he will growl even under that operation, but, if you touch +him roughly, he will bite.</p> + +<p>Simplicity is become a very rare quality in a writer. In the decline of +great kingdoms, and where refinement in all the arts is carried to an +excess, I suppose it is always so. The later Roman writers are remarkable +for false ornament; they were without doubt greatly admired by the readers +of their own day; and with respect to authors of the present era, the +popular among them appear to me to be equally censurable on the same +account. Swift and Addison were simple.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="THOMAS_DE_QUINCEY"></a>THOMAS DE QUINCEY</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Confessions_of_an_English_Opium-Eater"></a>Confessions of an +English Opium-Eater</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Thomas de Quincey, scholar, essayist, critic, opium-eater, +was born at Manchester on August 15, 1785. A singularly sensitive and +imaginative boy, De Quincey rapidly became a brilliant scholar, and at +fifteen years of age could speak Greek so fluently as to be able, as one of +his masters said, "to harangue an Athenian mob." He wished to go early to +Oxford, but his guardians objecting, he ran away at the age of seventeen, +and, after wandering in Wales, found his way to London, where he suffered +privations that injured his health. The first instalment of his +"Confessions of an English Opium-Eater" appeared in the "London Magazine" +for September 1821. It attracted universal attention both by its +subject-matter and style. De Quincey settled in Edinburgh, where most of +his literary work was done, and where he died, on December 8, 1859. His +collected works, edited by Professor Masson, fill fourteen volumes. After +he had passed his seventieth year, De Quincey revised and extended his +"Confessions," but in their magazine form, from which this epitome is made, +they have much greater freshness and power than in their later elaboration. +Many popular editions are now published. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Descending Pathway</i></h4> + + +<p>I here present you, courteous reader, with the record of a remarkable +period in my life, and I trust that it will prove not merely an interesting +record, but in a considerable degree useful and instructive. That must be +my apology for breaking through the delicate and honourable reserve which, +for the most part, restrains us from the public exposure of our own errors +and infirmities.</p> + +<p>If opium-eating be a sensual pleasure, and if I am bound to confess that +I have indulged in it to an excess not yet recorded of any other man, it is +no less true that I have struggled against this fascinating enthralment +with a religious zeal, and have at length accomplished what I never yet +heard attributed to any other man--have untwisted, almost to its final +links, the accursed chain which fettered me.</p> + +<p>I have often been asked how I first came to be a regular opium-eater, +and have suffered, very unjustly, in the opinion of my acquaintances, from +being reputed to have brought upon myself all the sufferings which I shall +have to record, by a long course of indulgence in this practice purely for +the sake of creating an artificial state of pleasurable excitement. This, +however, is a misrepresentation of my case. It was not for the purpose of +creating pleasure, but of mitigating pain in the severest degree, that I +first began to use opium as an article of daily diet.</p> + +<p>The calamities of my novitiate in London, when, as a runaway from +school, I made acquaintance with starvation and horror, had struck root so +deeply in my bodily constitution that afterwards they shot up and +flourished afresh, and grew into a noxious umbrage that has overshadowed +and darkened my latter years.</p> + +<p>It is so long since I first took opium that, if it had been a trifling +incident in my life, I might have forgotten its date; but, from +circumstances connected with it, I remember that it must be referred to the +autumn of 1804. During that season I was in London, having come thither for +the first time since my entrance at college. And my introduction to opium +arose in the following way. One morning I awoke with excruciating rheumatic +pains of the head and face, from which I had hardly any respite.</p> + +<p>On the twenty-first day, I think it was, and on a Sunday, I went out +into the streets, rather to run away, if possible, from my torments than +with any distinct purpose. By accident, I met a college acquaintance, who +recommended opium. Opium! dread agent of unimaginable pleasure and pain! I +had heard of it as I had of manna or of ambrosia, but no further. My road +homewards lay through Oxford Street; and near "the stately Pantheon" I saw +a druggist's shop, where I first became possessed of the celestial +drug.</p> + +<p>Arrived at my lodgings, I took it, and in an hour--oh, heavens! what a +revulsion! what an unheaving, from its lowest depths, of the inner spirit! +what an apocalypse of the world within me! That my pains had vanished was +now a trifle in my eyes; this negative effect was swallowed up in the +immensity of those positive effects which had opened before me, in the +abyss of divine enjoyment thus suddenly revealed.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Effects of the Seductive Drug</i></h4> + + +<p>First one word with respect to its bodily effects. It is not so much +affirmed as taken for granted that opium does, or can, produce +intoxication. Now, reader, assure yourself that no quantity of the drug +ever did, or could, intoxicate. The pleasure given by wine is always +mounting and tending to a crisis, after which it declines; that from opium, +when once generated, is stationary for eight or ten hours; the one is a +flame, the other a steady and equable glow.</p> + +<p>Another error is that the elevation of spirits produced by opium is +necessarily followed by a proportionate depression. This I shall content +myself with simply denying; assuring my readers that for ten years, during +which I took opium at intervals, the day succeeding to that on which I +allowed myself this luxury was always a day of unusually good spirits.</p> + +<p>With respect to the torpor supposed to accompany the practice of +opium-eating, I deny that also. The primary effects of opium are always, +and in the highest degree, to excite and stimulate the system. But, that +the reader may judge of the degree in which opium is likely to stupefy the +faculties of an Englishman, I shall mention the way in which I myself often +passed an opium evening in London during the period between 1804 and 1812. +I used to fix beforehand how often within a given time, and when, I would +commit a debauch of opium. This was seldom more than once in three weeks, +and it was usually on a Tuesday or a Saturday night; my reason for which +was this: in those days Grassini sang at the opera, and her voice was +delightful to me beyond all that I had ever heard. The choruses were divine +to hear, and when Grassini appeared in some interlude, as she often did, +and poured forth her passionate soul as Andromache at the tomb of Hector, +etc., I question whether any Turk, of all that ever entered the paradise of +opium-eaters, can have had half the pleasure I had.</p> + +<p>Another pleasure I had which, as it could be had only on a Saturday +night, occasionally struggled with my love of the opera. The pains of +poverty I had lately seen too much of; but the pleasures of the poor, their +consolations of spirit, and their reposes from bodily toil, can never +become oppressive to contemplate. Now, Saturday night is the season for the +chief, regular, and periodic return of rest for the poor. For the sake, +therefore, of witnessing a spectacle with which my sympathy was so entire, +I used often on Saturday nights, after I had taken opium, to wander forth, +without much regarding the direction or the distance, to all the markets, +and other parts of London to which the poor resort of a Saturday night for +laying out their wages.</p> + +<p>Sometimes in my attempts to steer homewards by fixing my eye on the Pole +star, and seeking ambitiously for a north-west passage, instead of +circumnavigating all the capes and headlands I had doubled in my outward +voyage, I came suddenly upon such knotty problems of alleys, such +enigmatical entries, and such sphinx's riddles of streets without +thoroughfares, as must, I conceive, baffle the audacity of porters, and +confound the intellects of hackney coachmen. For all this I paid a heavy +price in distant years, when the human face tyrannised over my dreams, and +the perplexities of my steps in London came back and haunted my sleep with +the feeling of perplexities, moral and intellectual, that brought confusion +to the reason, or anguish and remorse to the conscience.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--A Fearful Nemesis</i></h4> + + +<p>Courteous reader, let me request you to move onwards for about eight +years, to 1812. The years of academic life are now over and gone--almost +forgotten. Am I married? Not yet. And I still take opium? On Saturday +nights. And how do I find my health after all this opium-eating? In short, +how do I do? Why, pretty well, I thank you, reader. In fact, though, to +satisfy the theories of medical men, I <i>ought</i> to be ill, I never was +better in my life than in the spring of 1812. To moderation, and temperate +use of the article I may ascribe it, I suppose, that as yet, at least, I am +unsuspicious of the avenging terrors which opium has in store for those who +abuse its lenity.</p> + +<p>But now comes a different era. In 1813 I was attacked by a most +appalling irritation of the stomach, and I could resist no longer. Let me +repeat, that at the time I began to take opium daily, I could not have done +otherwise. Still, I confess it as a besetting infirmity of mine that I +hanker too much after a state of happiness, both for myself and others. +From 1813, the reader is to consider me as a regular and confirmed +opium-eater. Now, reader, from 1813 please walk forward about three years +more, and you shall see me in a new character.</p> + +<p>Now, farewell--a long farewell--to happiness, winter or summer! Farewell +to smiles and laughter! Farewell to peace of mind! Farewell to hope and to +tranquil dreams, and to the blessed consolations of sleep. For more than +three years and a half I am summoned away from these. I am now arrived at +an Iliad of woes.</p> + +<p>It will occur to you to ask, why did I not release myself from the +horrors of opium by leaving it off or diminishing it? The reader may be +sure that I made attempts innumerable to reduce the quantity. It might be +supposed that I yielded to the fascinations of opium too easily; it cannot +be supposed that any man can be charmed by its terrors.</p> + +<p>My studies have now been long interrupted. I cannot read to myself with +any pleasure, hardly with a moment's endurance. This intellectual torpor +applies more or less to every part of the four years during which I was +under the Circean spells of opium. But for misery and suffering, I might, +indeed, be said to have existed in a dormant state. I seldom could prevail +on myself even to write a letter. The opium-eater loses none of his moral +sensibilities or aspirations. He wishes and longs as earnestly as ever to +realise what he believes possible, and feels to be exacted by duty; but his +intellectual apprehension of what is possible infinitely outruns his power, +not of execution only, but even of power to attempt.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Horrors of Dreamland</i></h4> + + +<p>I now pass to what is the main subject of these latter confessions, to +the history of what took place in my dreams, for these were the immediate +and proximate cause of my acutest suffering. I know not whether my reader +is aware that many children, perhaps most, have a power of painting, as it +were, upon the darkness all sorts of phantoms.</p> + +<p>In the middle of 1817, I think it was, this faculty became positively +distressing to me. At nights, when I lay awake in bed, vast processions +passed along in mournful pomp; friezes of never-ending stories, that to my +feelings were as sad and solemn as if they were stories drawn from times +before Aedipus or Priam, before Tyre, before Memphis. And at the same time +a corresponding change took place in my dreams; a theatre seemed suddenly +opened and lighted up within my brain, which presented nightly spectacles +of more than earthly splendour.</p> + +<p>All changes in my dreams were accompanied by deep-seated anxiety and +gloomy melancholy, such as are wholly incommunicable by words. I seemed +every night to descend, not metaphorically, but literally, to descend into +chasms and sunless abysses, depths below depths, from which it seemed +hopeless that I should ever re-ascend. Nor did I, even by waking, feel that +I had re-ascended.</p> + +<p>The sense of space, and, in the end, the sense of time, were both +powerfully affected. Buildings, landscapes, etc., were exhibited in +proportions so vast as the bodily eye is not fitted to receive. Space +swelled, and was amplified to an extent of unutterable infinity. This, +however, did not disturb me so much as the vast expansion of time; I +sometimes seemed to have lived far beyond the limits of any human +experience.</p> + +<p>The minutest incidents of childhood, or forgotten scenes of later years, +were often revived. Of this, at least, I feel assured, that there is no +such thing as <i>forgetting</i> possible to the mind. A thousand accidents +may and will interpose a veil between our present consciousness and the +secret inscriptions of the mind; accidents of the same sort will also rend +away this veil; but alike, whether veiled or unveiled, the inscription +remains for ever; just as the stars seem to withdraw before the common +light of day, whereas, in fact, we all know that it is the light which is +drawn over them as a veil, and that they are but waiting to be revealed +when the obscuring daylight shall have withdrawn.</p> + +<p>In the early stage of my malady the splendours of my dreams were indeed +chiefly architectural; and I beheld such pomp of cities and palaces as was +never yet beheld by the waking eye, unless in the clouds. To architecture +succeeded dreams of lakes and silvery expanses of water. The waters then +changed their character--from translucent lakes shining like mirrors they +now became seas and oceans.</p> + +<p>And now came a tremendous change, which, unfolding itself slowly like a +scroll through many months, promised an abiding torment; and, in fact, it +never left me until the winding up of my case. Hitherto the human face had +mixed often in my dreams, but not despotically, nor with any special power +of tormenting. But now that which I have called the tyranny of the human +face began to unfold itself. Perhaps some part of my London life might be +answerable for this. Be that as it may, now it was that upon the rocking +waters of the ocean the human face began to appear; the sea appeared paved +with innumerable faces upturned to the heavens--faces imploring, wrathful, +despairing, surged upwards by thousands, by myriads, by generations, by +centuries; my agitation was infinite, my mind tossed and surged with the +ocean.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--The Monster-Haunted Dreamer</i></h4> + + +<p>I know not whether others share in my feelings on this point; but I have +often thought that if I were compelled to forego England and to live in +China, and among Chinese manners and modes of life and scenery, I should go +mad. Southern Asia in general is the seat of awful images and associations. +As the cradle of the human race, it would alone have a dim and reverential +feeling connected with it. But there are other reasons. No man can pretend +that the wild, barbarous, and capricious superstitions of Africa, or of +savage tribes elsewhere, affect him in the way that he is affected by the +ancient, monumental, cruel, and elaborate religions of Indostan, etc. The +mere antiquity of Asiatic things, of their institutions, histories, modes +of faith, etc., is so impressive that, to me, the vast age of the race and +name overpowers the sense of youth in the individual. A young Chinese seems +to me an antediluvian man renewed.</p> + +<p>All this, and much more than I can say or have time to say, the reader +must enter into before he can comprehend the unimaginable horror which +these dreams of Oriental imagery and mythological tortures impressed upon +me. Under the connecting feeling of tropical heat and vertical sunlight, I +brought together all creatures, birds, beasts, reptiles, all trees and +plants, usages and appearances, that are found in all tropical regions, and +assembled them together in China or Indostan. From kindred feelings I soon +brought Egypt and all her gods under the same law. I was stared at, hooted +at, grinned at, chattered at, by monkeys, by paroqueats, by cockatoos. I +ran into pagodas, and was fixed for centuries, at the summit, or in secret +rooms; I was the idol; I was the priest; I was worshipped; I was +sacrificed. I fled from the wrath of Brahma through all the forests of +Asia; Vishnu hated me; Siva laid wait for me. I came suddenly upon Isis and +Osiris; I had done a deed, they said, which the ibis and the crocodile +trembled at I was buried for a thousand years in stone coffins, with +mummies and sphinxes, in narrow chambers at the heart of eternal pyramids. +I was kissed by crocodiles; and laid, confounded with all unutterable slimy +things, amongst reeds and Nilotic mud.</p> + +<p>Over every form and threat and punishment brooded a sense of eternity +and infinity that drove me into an oppression as of madness. Into these +dreams only it was, with one or two slight exceptions, that any +circumstances of physical horror entered. But here the main agents were +ugly birds, or snakes, or crocodiles; especially the last. The cursed +crocodile became to me the object of more horror than almost all the rest. +I was compelled to live with him, and--as was almost always the case in my +dreams--for centuries. And so often did this hideous reptile haunt my +dreams that many times the very same dream was broken up in the very same +way. I heard gentle voices speaking to me--I hear everything when I am +sleeping--and instantly I awoke. It was broad noon, and my children were +standing, hand in hand, at my bedside--come to show me their coloured +shoes, or new frocks, or to let me see them dressed for going out. I +protest that so awful was the transition from the detestable crocodile, and +the other unutterable monsters and abortions of my dreams, to the sight of +innocent human natures and of infancy that in the mighty and sudden +revulsion of mind I wept, and could not forbear it, as I kissed their +faces.</p> + + +<h4><i>VI.--The Agonies of Sleep</i></h4> + + +<p>As a final specimen, I cite a dream of a different character, from 1820. +The dream commenced with a music which now I often heard in dreams--a music +of preparation and of awakening suspense, a music like the opening of the +Coronation Anthem, and which, like that, gave the feeling of a vast march, +of infinite cavalcades filing off, and the tread of innumerable armies. The +morning was come of a mighty day--a day of crisis and of final hope for +human nature, then suffering some mysterious eclipse, and labouring in some +dread extremity. Somewhere, I knew not where--somehow, I knew not how--by +some beings, I knew not whom--a battle, a strife, an agony, was conducting, +was evolving like a great drama or piece of music, with which my sympathy +was the more insupportable from my confusion as to its place, its cause, +its nature, and possible issue.</p> + +<p>I, as is usual in dreams--where, of necessity, we make ourselves central +to every movement--had the power, and yet had not the power, to decide it. +I had the power, if I could raise myself to will it, and yet again had not +the power, for the weight of twenty Atlantics was upon me, or the +oppression of inexpiable guilt. "Deeper than ever plummet sounded," I lay +inactive. Then, like a chorus, the passion deepened. Some greater interest +was at stake, some mightier cause than ever yet the sword had pleaded, or +trumpet had proclaimed. Then came sudden alarms, hurryings to and fro, +trepidations of innumerable fugitives--I knew not whether from the good +cause or the bad--darkness and lights, tempest and human faces, and at +last, with the sense that all was lost, female forms, and the features that +were worth all the world to me, and but a moment allowed--and clasped +hands, and heart-breaking partings, and then--everlasting farewells! And +with a sigh such as the caves of hell sighed when the incestuous mother +uttered the abhorred name of death, the sound was reverberated--everlasting +farewells! And again and yet again reverberated--everlasting farewells! And +I awoke in struggles, and cried aloud, "I will sleep no more."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It now remains that I should say something of the way in which this +conflict of horrors was finally brought to a crisis. I saw that I must die +if I continued the opium. I determined, therefore, if that should be +required, to die in throwing it off. I triumphed. But, reader, think of me +as one, even when four months had passed, still agitated, writhing, +throbbing, palpitating, shattered. During the whole period of diminishing +the opium I had the torments of a man passing out of one mode of existence +into another. The issue was not death, but a sort of physical +regeneration.</p> + +<p>One memorial of my former condition still remains--my dreams are not yet +perfectly calm; the dread swell and agitation of the storm have not wholly +subsided; the legions that encamped in them are drawing off, but not all +departed; my sleep is still tumultuous, and, like the gates of Paradise to +our first parents when looking back from afar, it is still--in Milton's +tremendous line--"With dreadful faces throng'd and fiery arms."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ALEXANDRE_DUMAS"></a>ALEXANDRE DUMAS</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Memoirs1"></a>Memoirs</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Alexandre Dumas <i>père</i>, the great French +novelist and dramatist, who here tells the story of his youth, was born on +July 24, 1802, and died on December 5, 1870. He was a man of prodigious +vitality, virility, and invention; abounding in enjoyment, gaiety, vanity, +and kindness; the richness, force, and celerity of his nature was amazing. +In regard to this peculiar vivacity of his, it is interesting to remember +that one of his grandparents was a full-blooded negress. Dumas' literary +work is essentially romantic; his themes are courage, loyalty, honour, +love, pageantry, and adventure; he belongs to the tradition of Scott and +Schiller, but as a story-teller excels every other. His plays and novels +are both very numerous; the "OEuvres Complètes," published between +1860 and 1884, fill 277 volumes. Probably "Monte Cristo" and "The Three +Musketeers" are the most famous of his stories. He was an untiring and +exceedingly rapid worker, a great collaborator employing many assistants, +and was also a shameless plagiarist; but he succeeded in impressing his own +quality on all that he published. Besides plays and novels there are +several books of travel. His son, Alexandre, was born in 1824. The +"Memoirs," published in 1852, which are here followed through their +author's struggles to his triumph, may be the work of the novelist as well +as of the chronicler, but they give a most convincing impression of his +courageous and brilliant youth, fired equally by art and by ambition. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Memories of Boyhood</i></h4> + + +<p>I was born on July 24, 1802, at Villers-Cotterets, a little town of the +Department of Aisne, on the road from Laon to Paris, so that, writing now +in 1847, I am forty-five years old. My father was the republican general, +Thomas-Alexandre Dumas-Davy de la Pailleterie, and I still use this +patronymic in signing official documents. It came from my grandfather, +marquis of that name, who sold his properties in France, and settled down +in 1760 on vast estates in San Domingo. There, in 1762, my father was born; +his mother, Louise-Cessette Dumas, died in 1772; and in 1780, when my +father was eighteen, the West Indian estates were leased, and the marquis +returned to his native country.</p> + +<p>My father spent the next years among the youth of the great families of +that period. His handsome features--all the more striking for the dark +complexion of a mulatto--his prodigious physical strength, his elegant +creole figure, with hands and feet as small as a woman's, his unrivalled +skill in bodily exercises, and especially in fencing and horsemanship, all +marked him out as one born for adventures. The spirit of adventure was +there, too. Assuming the name of Dumas because his father objected to the +family name being dragged through the ranks, he enlisted as a private in a +regiment of dragoons in 1786, at the age of twenty-four. Quartered at +Villers-Cotterets in 1790, he met my mother, Marie-Louise-Elisabeth +Labouret, whom he married two years later. Their children were one +daughter, and then myself. The marquis had died in 1786.</p> + +<p>My memory goes back to 1805, when I was three, and to the little country +house, Les Fosses, we lived in. I remember a journey to Paris in the same +year, and the death of my father in 1806. Then my mother, sister, and I, +left in poverty, went to live with grandfather and grandmother Labouret. +Here, in gardens full of shady trees and gorgeous blossoms, I spent those +happy days when hope extends hardly further than to-morrow, and memory +hardly further than yesterday; storing my mind with classical mythology and +Bible stories, the "Arabian Nights," the natural history of Buffon, and the +geography of "Robinson Crusoe."</p> + +<p>Then came my tenth year and the age for school. It was decided that I +should go to the seminary and be educated for a priest; but I settled that +matter by running away and living for three days in the hut of a friendly +bird-catcher in the woods. So I passed instead into our little school of +the Abbé Grégoire--a just and good man, of whom I learned +little but to love him; and from another parish priest, an uncle of mine, a +few miles away, I gained a passion for shooting the hares and partridges +with which our country swarmed.</p> + +<p>But while I was living in twelve-year-old joys and sorrows, the enemy +was marching on French soil, and all confidence in Napoleon's star had +vanished. God had forsaken him. A retreating wave of our army swept over +the countryside, followed by alien forces. We lived in the midst of +fighting and alarms, and my mother and her friends worked like sisters of +charity. There followed Bonaparte's exile in Elba, and then the astonishing +report that he had landed near Cannes, and was marching on Paris. He +reached the Tuileries on March 20, 1815; in May, his troops were marching +through our town on their way to Waterloo, glory, and the grave. I saw him +passing in his carriage, his face, pale and sickly, leaning forward, chin +on breast. He raised his head, and glanced around.</p> + +<p>"Where are we?"</p> + +<p>"At Villers-Cotterets, sire."</p> + +<p>"Forward! Faster!" he cried, and fell back into his lethargy. Whips +cracked, and the gigantic vision had passed. That was June 11--Waterloo was +the 18th. On the 20th, three or four hours after the first doubtful rumour +had reached us, a carriage drew up to change horses. There was the same +inert figure, and the same question and answer. The team broke into a +gallop, and the fallen Napoleon was gone. Soon all went on in the ordinary +way, and in our little town, isolated in the midst of its forest, one might +have thought no changes had taken place; people had had an evil dream--that +was all.</p> + +<p>My memories of this period are chiefly memories of the woods--shooting +parties, now and then a wolf or boar hunt, often a poaching adventure with +a friend. But at fifteen years of age I was placed in a notary's office; at +sixteen I learned to love, and shortly afterwards I saw "Hamlet" played by +a touring company. It made a profound impression on me, awakening vast, +aimless desires, strange gleams of mystery. A friend of mine, Adolphe de +Leuven, himself an ardent versifier, guided me to a first sense of my +vocation, and together we set to work as playwrights.</p> + +<p>Adolphe and his father went up to live in Paris, and our plays were +submitted everywhere in vain. My ardour for the great city grew daily until +it became irresistible; and at length, in the temporary absence of my +notary, I made a three days' escape with a friend, saw Talma act, and was +even introduced to him by Adolphe. His playing opened a new world to me, +and the great man playfully foretold my destiny.</p> + +<p>As one enchanted, I returned to the office, accepted my employers' +rebuke as a dismissal, and went home. I was without a penny, but was +immediately visited by a wonderful run of fortune. Among other strokes of +luck, I sold my rascal dog for $25 to an infatuated Englishman, and won six +hundred glasses of absinthe at a single game of billiards from the +proprietor of the Paris coach, commuting them for a dozen free passages. I +said good-bye to the dear mother and the saintly <i>abbé</i>, and +found myself early on a May morning at Adolphe's door. I had come to try my +fortune with my father's brothers-at-arms.</p> + +<p>Of course, there were bitter disappointments, and when I called on +General Foy he was my last hope. Alas! did I know this subject, or that, or +that? My answer was always "No." But the general would at least keep my +address; and no sooner had I written it down than he cried aloud that we +were saved! It appeared that I had a good writing, and the Duke of Orleans +needed another copyist in his office. The next morning I was engaged at a +salary of twelve hundred francs. I came home for three days with my mother, +and on the advice of the bird-catcher took a ticket at the lottery, which +brought me 146 francs. And so, with a few bits of furniture from home, I +took up my lodging in a Parisian garret.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Launched in Paris</i></h4> + + +<p>Now began a life of daily work at the office, with agreeable companions, +and of evenings spent at the theatre or in study. On the first night I went +to the Porte-Sainte-Martin Theatre, where a melodrama, "The Vampire," was +presented, and fell into conversation with my neighbour, a man of about +forty, of fascinating discourse, who was inordinately impatient with the +piece, and was at last turned out of the theatre for his expressions of +disapproval. His talk, far more interesting than the play, turned on rare +editions of old books, on the sylphs, gnomes, Undines of the invisible +world, on microscopic creatures he had himself discovered, and on vampires +he had seen in Illyria. I learned next day that this was the celebrated +author and bibliophile, Charles Nodier, himself one of the anonymous +authors of the play he so vilified.</p> + +<p>Lassagne, a genial colleague in the office, not only put me in the way +of doing my work, which I quickly picked up, but was good enough also to +guide my reading, for I was deplorably ignorant. In those days Scribe was +the great dramatist, producing innumerable clever plots of intrigue, +modelled on no natural society, but on a society all his own, composed +almost exclusively of colonels, young widows, old soldiers, and faithful +servants. No one had ever seen such widows and colonels, never soldiers +spoke as these did, never were servants so devoted; yet this society of +Scribe's was all the fashion.</p> + +<p>The men most highly placed in literature at the time when I came to +Paris were MM. de Chateaubriand, Jouy, Lemercier, Arnault, Etienne, +Baour-Lormian, Béranger, Charles Nodier, Viennet Scribe, +Théaulon, Soumet, Casimir Delavigne, Lucien Arnault, Ancelot, +Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Désaugiers, and Alfred de Vigny. After them +came names half literary, half political, such as MM. Cousin, Salvandy, +Yillemain, Thiers, Augustin Thierry, Michelet, Mignet, Vitet, Cavé, +Mérimée, and Guizot. Others, who were not yet known, but were +coming forward, were Balzac, Soulié, De Musset, Sainte-Beuve, +Auguste Barbier, Alphonse Karr, Théophile Gautier. Madame Sand was +not known until her "Indiana," in 1828. I knew all this constellation, some +of them as friends and supporters, others as enemies.</p> + +<p>In December, 1823, Talma made perhaps the greatest success of his life +in Delavigne's "L'Ecole des Vieillards," in which his power of modulating +his voice to the various emotions of old age was superbly shown. But Talma +was never content with his triumphs; he awaited eagerly the rise of a new +drama; and when I confided to him my ambitions, he would urge me to be +quick and succeed within his day. Art was all that he lived for. How +wonderful a thing is art, more faithful than a friend or lover!</p> + +<p>On the first day of 1824 I rose to be a regular clerk at 1,500 francs, +and determined to bring up my mother from the country. It was now nine +months since I had seen her. So she sold her tobacco shop and came up to +Paris with a little furniture and a hundred louis. We were both very glad +to be united, though she was anxious about my future.</p> + +<p>I had by this time learned my ignorance of much that was necessary to my +success as a dramatist, and began to devote every hour of my leisure to +study, attending the theatre as often as I could get a pass. A young +medical man named Thibaut helped me much in my education; he took me to the +hospital, where I picked up a knowledge of medicine and surgery which has +repeatedly done service in my novels, and I learned from him the actions of +poisons, such as I have used in "Monte Cristo."</p> + +<p>I read also under the guidance of Lassagne, beginning with "Ivanhoe," in +which the pictures of mediæval life cleared the clouds from my vision +and gave me a far wider horizon. Next the vast forests, prairies, and +oceans of Cooper held me; and then I came to Byron, who died in Greece at +the very time when I was entering on my apprenticeship to poetry. The +romantic movement in France was beginning to invade literature and the +drama, but its expression was still most evident in the younger +painters.</p> + +<p>My mother's little capital only lasted eighteen months, and I found +myself forced to supplement my salary by other work. I had until now +collaborated with Adolphe, but all in vain, and we now determined to +associate Ph. Rousseau with our efforts. The three of us together quickly +produced a vaudeville in twenty-one scenes, "La Chasse et l'Amour," of +which I wrote the first seven scenes, Adolphe the second seven, and +Rousseau the conclusion. The piece was rejected at the Gymnase, but +accepted at the Ambigu; and my share of the profits came to six francs a +night.</p> + +<p>A.M. Porcher, who always had a pleasant welcome and an open purse for a +literary man, lent me 300 francs on the security of my receipts, and with +that money I printed a volume of three stories under the title of +"Nouvelles Contemporaines," of which, however, only four copies were sold. +But the next adventure was more profitable. A play, by Lassagne and myself, +"La Noce et l'Enterrement," was presented at the Porte-Sainte-Martin in +November 1826, and brought me eight francs a night for forty nights.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Under Shakespeare's Spell</i></h4> + + +<p>As recently as 1822 an English theatrical company, which had opened at +the Porte-Sainte-Martin Theatre, had been hissed and pelted off the stage +for offering the dramas of the barbaric Shakespeare. But when, in September +1827, another English company brought Shakespeare's plays to the +Odéon, this contempt for English literature had changed to ardent +admiration--so quickly had the mind of Paris broadened. Shakespeare had +been translated by Guizot, and everyone had read Scott, Cooper, and +Byron.</p> + +<p>The English season was opened by Sheridan's "Rivals," followed by +Allingham's "Fortune's Freak." Then came "Hamlet," which infinitely +surpassed all my expectations. Kemble's Hamlet was amazing, and Miss +Smithson's Ophelia adorable. From that very night, but not before, I knew +what the theatre was. I had seen for the first time real men and women, of +flesh and blood, moved by real passions. I understood Talma's continual +lament, his incessant desire for plays which should show him, not as a hero +only, but also as a man. "Romeo and Juliet," "Othello," and all the other +masterpieces followed. Then, in their turn, Macready and Kean appeared in +Paris.</p> + +<p>I knew now that everything in the world of drama derives from +Shakespeare, as everything in the natural world depends on the sun; I knew +that, after God, Shakespeare was the great creator. And from the night when +I had first seen, in these English players, men on the stage forgetful of +the stage, and revealing themselves, by natural eloquence and manner, as +God's creatures, with all their good and evil, their passions and +weaknesses, from that night my vocation was irrevocable. A new confidence +was given me, and I boldly adventured on the future. Besides observing +mankind, I entered with redoubled zest upon the dissection and study of the +words of the great dramatists.</p> + +<p>My attention had been turned to the story of Christine and the murder of +Monaldeschi by an exquisite little bas-relief in the Salon; and reading up +the history in the biographical dictionary, I saw that it held the +possibility of a tremendous drama. The subject haunted my mind continually, +and soon my "Christine" came into life and was written. But Talma was dead; +I had now no friend at the theatre; and I cast about me in vain for the +means of getting my play produced.</p> + +<p>Baron Taylor was at this time the official charged with the acceptance +or rejection of plays, and Charles Nodier, so Lassagne informed me, was on +intimate terms with him. Lassagne suggested that I should write to Nodier, +reminding him of our chat on the night of "The Vampire," and asking for an +introduction to the Baron. I did so, and the reply came from Baron Taylor +himself, offering me an interview at seven in the morning.</p> + +<p>At the appointed time, my heart beating fast, I rang the bell of his +flat, and as I waited for someone to come, I wondered at a strange noise +that was going on within--a deep, monotonous recitation, interrupted by +occasional explosions of rage in a higher voice. I rang for the third time, +and as a door opened within, the mysterious sounds doubled in volume. Then +the outer door opened, and the Baron's old servant hurried me in. "Come in, +sir," she said, "come in; the Baron is longing for you to come!" I found +Baron Taylor in his bath, and beside him a playwright reading a tragedy. +The fellow had insisted on entering, had caught the examiner of plays in +his bath, and was inflicting on him a play of over two thousand lines! +Undaunted by the Baron's rage, and unmoved by my arrival, he proceeded with +his reading, while I waited in the bedroom.</p> + +<p>When Baron Taylor at last came in and got into bed, he was shivering +with cold, and I proposed to put off my reading; but he would not hear of +it, and trembling, I began my play. At the end of each act the Baron +himself asked for the next, and when it was finished he leapt from bed and +called for his clothes that he might go and arrange for an immediate +hearing before the committee at the Français.</p> + +<p>And so a special meeting was called, and I read "Christine" to a +gathering of the greatest actors and actresses of the time, all fully +dressed as if for a dance. I have rarely seen a play meet with so great a +success at this ordeal; I was off my head with pleasure; the play was +accepted by acclamation. I ran home to our rooms to tell my mother the +great news of this great day, April 30, 1828, and then back to the office +to copy out a heap of papers.</p> + +<p>"Christine" was not, however, produced at this time. Another play on the +same subject, written by a M. Brault, had also been accepted by the +committee, and its author was suffering from an illness from which it was +impossible that he should recover. Under these circumstances it was felt +right to present the dying man's play while he was able to see it, and I +willingly acceded to the requests, made by his son and friends, that my +work should stand aside.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Dumas Arrives</i></h4> + + +<p>But now, by a happy chance, in a book that lay open on a table in the +office, I came across the suggestions for my "Henry III."; and as soon as +the plot had grown clear in my mind, I wrote the play in a couple of +months. I was only twenty-five, and this was only my second play; yet it is +as well constructed as any of the fifty which I have since written.</p> + +<p>Béranger, the great poet of democracy, and a man at that time of +unrivalled influence, was present at a private reading of "Henry III.," and +foretold its great success. The official reading was on September 17, 1828, +when the play was accepted by acclamation, and the parts were cast. But my +good fortune had not got into the papers, and this, as well as my frequent +absences at the theatre, had done me no good at the office. So I was sent +for one morning by M. de Broval, the director-general, and was given, in +set terms, my choice between my situation as a clerk and my literary +career. Only one choice was now possible, and from that very day my salary +ceased.</p> + +<p>The year 1829 was that in which my position was made and my future +assured. But it opened with a great sorrow. I was one day at the theatre +when a messenger ran in to tell me that my mother had fallen ill. I sent +for a doctor, hurried to her side, and found that she was unable to speak, +and that one side of her body was totally paralysed. My sister was soon +with us, having come up to town for the first night of the play. My state +of mind during the following days may be imagined, under the dreadful +affliction of seeing my mother dying, and under the enormous burden of +producing my first play.</p> + +<p>On the day before the presentation of "Henry III.," I went to the +palace, sent in my name to the Duke of Orleans, and boldly asked him the +favour, or, rather, the act of justice, that he would be present at the +theatre on the first night. I pointed out to him that he had given ear to +those who had charged me with vanity and willfulness, and begged him to +come and hear the verdict of the public. When his Highness told me that he +could not come, because he had over a score of princes and princesses +dining with him on that night, I suggested that he should bring them too. +And so it was arranged.</p> + +<p>February 11, so long awaited, dawned at last, and I spent the whole day +until evening with my mother. I had given an order for the play to every +one of my old colleagues at the office; I had a tiny stage-box; my sister +had a box in which she entertained Boulanger, De Vigny, and Victor Hugo; +every other place in the theatre was sold. The circle was gorgeous with +princes decorated with their orders, and the boxes with the nobility, the +ladies all glittering with diamonds.</p> + +<p>The curtain went up. I have never felt anything to compare with the cool +breath of air from the stage, which fanned my heated brow. The first act +was received sympathetically, and was followed by applause, and I seized +the interval to run and see my mother. The second act passed without +disapproval. The third, I knew, would mean success or disaster. It called +forth cries of fear, but also thunders of applause; never before had they +seen a dramatic situation so realistically, I had almost said so brutally, +presented. Again I visited my mother; how I wished she could have been +there! Then came the fourth and fifth acts, which were received by a +tumultuous frenzy of delight; and when the author's name was called, the +Duke of Orleans himself stood up to honour it.</p> + +<p>The days of struggle were over, the triumph had come. Utterly unknown +that evening, I was next morning the talk of Paris. They little knew that I +had spent the night on the floor, by the bed of my dying mother.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="JOHN_EVELYN"></a>JOHN EVELYN</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Diary"></a>Diary</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> John Evelyn, English country gentleman, courtier, diarist, +and miscellaneous author, was born at Wotton, in Surrey, on October 31, +1620, and was educated at Lewes, and then at Balliol College, Oxford. He +then lived at the Middle Temple, London; but after the death of Strafford, +disliking the unsettled state of England, he spent three months in the Low +Countries. Returning for a short time to England, he followed the Royalist +army for three days; but his prudence overcame his loyalty, and, crossing +the Channel again, he wandered for four years in France and Italy. His +observations abroad are minutely recorded in the "Diary," which in its +earlier part too often resembles a guide-book. Having married, in Paris, +the British ambassador's daughter, Evelyn made his home, in 1652, at Sayes +Court, Deptford, until he moved, in 1694; to Wotton, where he died on +February 27, 1706. He was honourably employed, after the Restoration, on +many public commissions, and was one of the founders of the Royal Society. +Like his friend Samuel Pepys, Evelyn was a man of very catholic tastes, and +wrote on a multitude of subjects, including history, politics, education, +the fine arts, gardening, and especially forestry, his "Sylva, or a +Discourse of Forest Trees," 1664, being, after the "Diary," his most famous +work. Evelyn's character is very engaging in its richness, uprightness, and +lively interests. His "Diary," like that of Pepys, lay long unpublished, +and first saw the light in 1818. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Early Years</i></h4> + + +<p>I was born at Wotton, in the county of Surrey, October 31, 1620, after +my father had been married about seven years, and my mother had borne him +two daughters and one son.</p> + +<p>My father's countenance was clear and fresh-coloured, his eyes quick and +piercing, an ample forehead and manly aspect. He was ascetic and sparing; +his wisdom was great, his judgement acute; affable, humble, and in nothing +affected; of a thriving, silent, and methodical genius. He was distinctly +severe, yet liberal on all just occasions to his children, strangers, and +servants, a lover of hospitality; of a singular and Christian moderation in +all his actions. He was justice of the peace, and served his country as +high sheriff for Surrey and Sussex together, and was a person of rare +conversation. His estate was esteemed about £4,000 per annum, well +wooded, and full of timber.</p> + +<p>My mother was of an ancient and honourable family in Shropshire. She was +of proper personage, of a brown complexion, her eyes and hair of a lovely +black, of constitution inclined to a religious melancholy or pious sadness, +of a rare memory and most exemplary life, for economy and prudence esteemed +one of the most conspicuous in her country.</p> + +<p>Wotton, the mansion house of my father, is in the southern part of the +shire, three miles from Dorking, and is upon part of Leith Hill, one of the +most eminent in England for the prodigious prospect to be seen from its +summit.</p> + +<p>From it may be discerned twelve or thirteen counties, with part of the +sea on the coast of Sussex on a serene day. The house large and ancient, +suitable to those hospitable times, and sweetly environed with delicious +streams and venerable woods.</p> + +<p><i>November</i> 3, 1640. A day never to be mentioned without a curse, +began that long, foolish, and fatal Parliament, the beginning of all our +sorrows for twenty years after.</p> + +<p><i>January</i> 2, 1641. We at night followed the hearse to the church at +Wotton, where my father was interred, and mingled with the ashes of our +mother, his dear wife. Thus we were bereft of both our parents in a period +when we most of all stood in need of their counsel and assistance, +especially myself, of a raw and unwary inclination.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Travels Abroad</i></h4> + + +<p><i>May</i> 12, 1641. I beheld on Tower Hill the fatal stroke which +severed the wisest head in England from the shoulders of the Earl of +Strafford, whose crime coming under the cognisance of no human law, a new +one was made to his destruction--to such exorbitancy were things +arrived.</p> + +<p><i>July</i> 21. Having procured a pass at the custom-house, embarked in +a Dutch frigate bound for Flushing, convoyed by five other stout vessels, +whereof one was a man-of-war.</p> + +<p><i>April</i> 19, 1644. Set out from Paris for Orleans. The way, as +indeed most of the roads in France, is paved with a small square freestone, +so that there is little dirt and bad roads, as in England, only it is +somewhat hard to the poor horses' feet.</p> + +<p><i>October</i> 7. We had a most delicious journey to Marseilles, through +a country full of vineyards, oliveyards, orange-trees, and the like sweet +plantations, to which belong pleasantly situated villas built all of +freestone.</p> + +<p>We went to visit the galleys; the captain of the galley-royal gave us +most courteous entertainment in his cabin, the slaves playing loud and soft +music. Then he showed us how he commanded their motions with a nod and his +whistle, making them row out. The spectacle was to me new and strange, to +see so many hundreds of miserably naked persons, having their heads shaven +close, and having only high red bonnets, a pair of coarse canvas drawers, +their whole backs and legs naked, doubly chained about their middles and +legs in couples, and made fast to their seats, and all commanded by a cruel +seaman. Their rising forward and falling back at their oar is a miserable +spectacle, and the noise of their chains with the roaring of the beaten +waters has something of the strange and fearful to one unaccustomed to it. +They are chastised on the least disorder, and without the least humanity; +yet are they cheerful and full of knavery.</p> + +<p><i>January</i> 31, 1645. Climbing a steep hill in Naples, we came to the +monastery of the Carthusians, from whence is a most goodly prospect towards +the sea and city, the one full of galleys and ships, the other of stately +palaces, churches, castles, gardens, delicious fields and meadows, Mount +Vesuvius smoking, doubtless one of the most considerable vistas in the +world.</p> + +<p>The inhabitants greatly affect the Spanish gravity in their habit, +delight in good horses; the streets are full of gallants on horseback, in +coaches, and sedans. The country people are so jovial and addicted to music +that the very husbandmen almost universally play on the guitar, singing and +composing songs in praise of their sweethearts, and will commonly go to the +field with their fiddle; they are merry, witty, and genial, all which I +much attribute to the excellent quality of the air. They have a deadly +hatred to the French, so that some of our company were flouted at for +wearing red cloaks, as the mode then was.</p> + +<p>This I made the end of my travels, sufficiently sated with rolling up +and down, since, from the report of divers experienced and curious persons, +I had been assured there was little more to be seen in the rest of the +civil world, after Italy, France, Flanders, and the Low Country, but plain +and prodigious barbarism.</p> + +<p>Thus, about February 7, we set out on our return to Rome by the same way +we came, not daring to adventure by sea, as some of our company were +inclined, for fear of Turkish pirates hovering on that coast.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Evelyn in England</i></h4> + + +<p><i>May</i> 22, 1647. I had contracted a great friendship with Sir +Richard Browne, his majesty's Resident at the Court of France, his lady and +family, and particularly set my affections on a daughter.</p> + +<p><i>June</i> 10. We concluded about my marriage, and on Thursday 27, Dr. +Earle married us in Sir Richard Browne's chapel, betwixt the hours of +eleven and twelve some few select friends being present; and this being +Corpus Christi, feast was solemnly observed in this country; the streets +were sumptuously hung with tapestry and strewn with flowers.</p> + +<p><i>July</i> 8, 1656. At Ipswich--one of the sweetest, most pleasant, +well-built towns in England. I had the curiosity to visit some Quakers here +in prison--a new fanatic sect, of dangerous principles, who show no respect +to any man, magistrate or other, and seem a melancholy, proud sort of +people, and exceedingly ignorant.</p> + +<p><i>November</i> 2. There was now nothing practical preached in the +pulpits, or that pressed reformation of life, but high and speculative +points that few understood, which left people very ignorant and of no +steady principles, the source of all our sects and divisions, for there was +much envy and uncharity in the world--God of His mercy amend it!</p> + +<p><i>January</i> 27, 1658. After six fits of an ague died my dear son +Richard, to our inexpressible grief and affliction, five years and three +days only, but at that tender age a prodigy for wit and understanding, and +for beauty of body a very angel. At two years and a half old he could +perfectly read any of the English, Latin, French, or Gothic letters, +pronouncing the three first languages perfectly. He had before the fifth +year, or in that year, not only skill to read most written hands, but to +decline all the nouns, conjugate the verbs regular, and most of the +irregular; got by heart almost the entire vocabulary of Latin and French +primitives and words, could make congruous syntax, turn English into Latin +and <i>vice versa</i>, construe and prove what he read, began himself to +write legibly, and had a strong passion for Greek. The number of verses he +could recite was prodigious, and he had a wonderful disposition to +mathematics. As to his piety, astonishing were his applications of +Scripture upon occasion, and his sense of God. He was all life, all +prettiness, far from morose, sullen or childish in anything he said or did. +Such a child I never saw; for such a child I bless God, in whose bosom he +is!</p> + +<p><i>November</i> 22. Saw the superb funeral of the Protector. He was +carried from Somerset House in a velvet bed of state, drawn by six horses +housed with the same, the pall held up by his new lords; Oliver lying in +effigy in royal robes, and with a crown, sceptre and globe, like a king; +pendants carried by officers, imperial banners by the heralds; a rich +caparisoned horse, embroidered all over with gold, a knight of honour armed +<i>cap-à-pie</i>, guards, soldiers, and innumerable mourners. In this +equipage they proceeded to Westminster; but it was the joyfullest funeral I +ever saw, for there were none that cried but dogs, which the soldiers +hooted away with a barbarous noise, drinking and taking tobacco in the +streets as they went.</p> + +<p><i>May</i> 29, 1660. This day his Majesty Charles II. came to London +after a sad and long exile and calamitous suffering both of the king and +church, being seventeen years. This also was his birthday, and with a +triumph of above 20,000 horse and foot, brandishing their swords and +shouting with inexpressible joy; the ways strewed with flowers, the bells +ringing, the streets hung with tapestry, fountains running with wine; the +mayor, aldermen, and all the companies in their liveries, chains of gold, +and banners; lords and nobles clad in cloth of silver, gold, and velvet; +the windows and balconies all set with ladies; trumpets, music, and myriads +of people flocking, even so far as from Rochester, so as they were seven +hours in passing the city. I stood in the Strand and beheld it, and blessed +God.</p> + +<p><i>January</i> 6, 1661. This night was suppressed a bloody insurrection +of some fifth-monarchy enthusiasts.</p> + +<p>I was now chosen a Fellow of the Philosophical Society, now meeting at +Gresham College, where was an assembly of divers learned gentlemen; this +being the first meeting since the king's return; but it had been begun some +years before at Oxford, and was continued with interruption here in London +during the Rebellion.</p> + +<p><i>January</i> 16. I went to the Philosophic Club, where was examined +the Torricellian experiment. I presented my Circle of Mechanical Trades, +and had recommended to me the publishing of what I had written upon +chalcography.</p> + +<p><i>January</i> 30. This day--O the stupendous and inscrutable judgements +of God!--were the carcases of those arch-rebels Cromwell, Bradshawe, and +Ireton dragged out from their superb tombs in Westminster among the kings, +to Tyburn, and hanged on the gallows there from morning till night, and +then buried under that ignominious monument in a deep pit; thousands of +people who had seen them in all their pride being spectators. Look back at +November 22, 1658, and be astonished! And fear God and honour the king; but +meddle not with them who are given to change!</p> + +<p><i>July</i> 31, 1662. I sat with the commissioners about reforming the +buildings and streets of London, and we ordered the paving of the way from +St. James's north, which was a quagmire, and also of the Haymarket about +Piqudillo [Piccadilly].</p> + +<p><i>August</i> 23. I was spectator of the most magnificent triumph that +ever floated on the Thames, considering the innumerable boats and vessels, +dressed and adorned with all imaginable pomp, but above all, the thrones, +arches, pageants, and other representations, stately barges of the Lord +Mayor and Companies, with music and peals of ordnance from the vessels and +the shore, going to meet and conduct the new queen from Hampton Court to +Whitehall, at the time of her first coming to town. His majesty and the +queen came in an antique-shaped open vessel, covered with a canopy of cloth +of gold, made in the form of a cupola, supported with high Corinthian +pillars, wreathed with flowers and festoons.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Plague and Fire</i></h4> + + +<p><i>July</i> 16, 1665. There died of the plague in London this week +1,100, and in the week following above 2,000.</p> + +<p><i>August</i> 28. The contagion still increasing, I sent my wife and +whole family to my brother's at Wotton, being resolved to stay at my house +myself and to look after my charge, trusting in the providence and goodness +of God.</p> + +<p><i>September</i> 7. Came home from Chatham. Perishing near 10,000 poor +creatures weekly. However, I went all along the city and suburbs from Kent +Street to St. James's, a dismal passage, and dangers to see so many coffins +exposed in the streets, now thin of people; the shops shut up, and all in +mournful silence, as not knowing whose turn might be next. I went to the +Duke of Albemarle for a pest-ship, for our infected men.</p> + +<p><i>September</i> 2, 1666. This fatal night, about ten, began that +deplorable fire near Fish Street in London.</p> + +<p><i>September</i> 3. After dinner I took coach with my wife and son, and +went to the Bank Side in Southwark, where we beheld the dismal spectacle, +the whole city in dreadful flames near the water-side.</p> + +<p>The fire having continued all this night, which was as light as day for +ten miles round, in a dreadful manner, I went on foot to the same place. +The conflagration was so universal, and the people so astonished, that from +the beginning they hardly stirred to quench it, so that there was nothing +heard or seen but crying out and lamentation, running about like distracted +creatures, without attempting to save even their goods. It leapt after a +prodigious manner from house to house, and street to street, at great +distances one from the other. Here we saw the Thames covered with goods +floating, all the barges and boats laden with what some had time and +courage to save. And the fields for many miles were strewn with movables of +all sorts, and tents erecting to shelter both people and what goods they +could get away. Oh, the miserable and calamitous spectacle! London was, but +is no more!</p> + +<p><i>October</i> 17, 1671. My Lord Henry Howard would needs have me go +with him to Norwich. I was not hard to be persuaded, having a desire to see +that famous scholar and physician, Dr. T. Browne, author of the "Religio +Medici," now lately knighted. Thither, then, went my lord and I alone in +his flying chariot with six horses.</p> + +<p>Next morning I went to see Sir Thomas Browne. His whole house and garden +were a paradise and cabinet of rarities, especially medals, books, plants, +and natural things. Sir Thomas had a collection of the eggs of all the +birds he could procure, that country being frequented by several birds +which seldom or never go farther into the land--as cranes, storks, eagles, +and variety of waterfowl. He led me to see all the remarkable places of +this ancient city, being one of the largest and noblest in England.</p> + +<p><i>January</i> 5, 1674. I saw an Italian opera in music, the first that +had been in England of this kind.</p> + +<p><i>November</i> 15, 1678. The queen's birthday. I never saw the court +more brave, nor the nation in more apprehension and consternation. Titus +Oates has grown so presumptuous as to accuse the queen of intending to +poison the king, which certainly that pious and virtuous lady abhorred the +thought of. Oates probably thought to gratify some who would have been glad +his majesty should have married a fruitful lady; but the king was too kind +a husband to let any of these make impression on him. However, divers of +the Popish peers were sent to the Tower, accused by Oates, and all the +Roman Catholic lords were by a new Act for ever excluded the Parliament, +which was a mighty blow.</p> + +<p><i>May</i> 5, 1681. Came to dine with me Sir Christopher Wren, his +majesty's architect and surveyor, now building the cathedral of St. Paul, +and the column in memory of the City's conflagration, and was in hand with +the building of fifty parish churches. A wonderful genius had this +incomparable person.</p> + +<p><i>January</i> 24, 1684. The frost continuing more and more severe, the +Thames before London was planted with booths in formal streets, all sorts +of trades and shops furnished and full of commodities, even to a printing +press. Coaches plied from Westminster to the Temple, as in the streets; +sleds, sliding with skates, bull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet +plays, cooks, tippling, so that it seemed to be a carnival on the water; +while it was a severe judgement on the land, the trees splitting, men and +cattle perishing, and the very seas locked up with ice. London was so +filled with the fuliginous steam of the coal that hardly could one see +across the streets, and this filling the lungs with its gross particles, so +as one could scarcely breathe.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Fall of the Stuarts</i></h4> + + +<p><i>February</i> 4, 1685. King Charles II. is dead. He was a prince of +many virtues, and many great imperfections; debonair, easy of access, not +bloody nor cruel; his countenance fierce, his voice great, proper of +person, every motion became him; a lover of the sea, and skillful in +shipping; he loved planting and building, and brought in a politer way of +living, which passed to luxury and expense. He would have been an excellent +prince had he been less addicted to women, who made him always in want to +supply their immeasurable profusion.</p> + +<p>Certainly never had king more glorious opportunities to have made +himself, his people, and all Europe happy, had not his too easy nature +resigned him to be managed by crafty men, and some abandoned and profane +wretches who corrupted his otherwise sufficient parts.</p> + +<p>I can never forget the inexpressible luxury and profaneness, gaming and +all dissoluteness, and, as it were, total forgetfulness of God (it being +Sunday evening) which day se'nnight I was witness of, the king sitting and +toying with his concubines, a French boy singing love-songs, in that +glorious gallery, while twenty great courtiers and other dissolute persons +were gaming at a large table, a bank of at least £2,000 in gold +before them. Six days after all was in the dust!</p> + +<p><i>November</i> 5, 1688. I went to London, heard the news of the Prince +of Orange having landed at Torbay, coming with a fleet of near 700 sail, +passing through the Channel with so favourable a wind that our navy could +not intercept them. This put the king and court into great +consternation.</p> + +<p><i>November</i> 13. The Prince of Orange is advanced to Windsor, and is +invited by the king to St. James's. The prince accepts the invitation, but +requires his majesty to retire to some distant place, that his own guards +may be quartered about the palace and city. This is taken heinously, and +the king goes privately to Rochester; is persuaded to come back; comes on +the Sunday, goes to mass, and dines in public, a Jesuit saying grace. I was +present.</p> + +<p><i>November</i> 18. All the world go to see the prince at St. James's, +where there is a great court. He is very stately, serious, and +reserved.</p> + +<p><i>November 24</i>. The king passes into France, whither the queen and +child were gone a few days before.</p> + +<p><i>May</i> 26, 1703. This day died Mr. Sam Pepys, a very worthy, +industrious, and curious person; none in England exceeding him in knowledge +of the navy, in which he had passed through all the most considerable +offices, all of which he performed with great integrity. When King James +II. went out of England, he laid down his office, and would serve no more; +but, withdrawing himself from all public affairs, he lived at Clapham with +his partner, Mr. Hewer, formerly his clerk, in a very noble house and sweet +place, where he enjoyed the fruit of his labours in great prosperity. He +was universally beloved, hospitable, generous, learned in many things, +skilled in music, a very great cherisher of learned men. His library and +collection of other curiosities were of the most considerable, the models +of ships especially.</p> + +<p><i>October</i> 31, 1705. I am this day arrived to the eighty-fifth year +of my age. Lord teach me so to number my days to come that I may apply them +to wisdom!</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="JOHN_FORSTER"></a>JOHN FORSTER</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Life_of_Goldsmith"></a>Life of Goldsmith</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> John Forster is best remembered as writer of the +biographies of the statesmen of the commonwealth, of Goldsmith, Landor, +Dickens. To his own generation he was for twenty years one of the ablest of +London journalists. In his later days, as a Commissioner in Lunacy, he had +time to devote himself more closely to historical research. He was born at +Newcastle on April 2, 1812, was turned aside from the Bar by success in +newspaper work, and became editor first of the "Foreign Quarterly Review," +then of the "Daily News," on which he succeeded Dickens, and lastly of "The +Examiner." His "Life of Goldsmith" was published in 1848, and enlarged in +1854. Forster was different from all that he looked. He seemed harsh, +exacting, and stubborn. He was one of the most loyal of friends, and +tender-hearted towards all good fellows, alive or dead. His picture of +Goldsmith is an understanding defence of that strangely-speckled genius, +written from the heart. Forster died on February 1, 1876, two years after +his retirement from official life. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Misery and Ill-luck</i></h4> + + +<p>The marble in Westminster Abbey is correct in the place, but not in the +time, of the birth of Oliver Goldsmith. He was born at a small old +parsonage house in an almost inaccessible Irish village called Pallas, in +Longford, November 10, 1728. His father, the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, was a +Protestant clergyman with an uncertain stipend, which, with the help of +some fields he farmed, averaged forty pounds a year. They who have lived, +laughed, and wept with the father of the man in black in the "Citizen of +the World," the preacher of "The Deserted Village," or the hero of "The +Vicar of Wakefield," have given laughter, love, and tears to the Rev. +Charles Goldsmith.</p> + +<p>Oliver had not completed his second year when the family moved to a +respectable house and farm on the verge of the pretty little village of +Lissoy, in West Meath. Here the schoolmistress who first put a book into +Oliver Goldsmith's hands confessed, "Never was so dull a boy; he seemed +impenetrably stupid."</p> + +<p>Yet all the charms of Goldsmith's later style are to be traced in the +letters of his youth, and he began to scribble verses when he could +scarcely write. At the age of eight he went to the Rev. Mr. Gilpin's +superior school of Elphin, in Roscommon, where he was considered "a stupid, +heavy blockhead, little better than a fool, whom everyone made fun of." +Indeed, from his earliest youth he was made to feel an intense, uneasy +consciousness of supposed defects. Later he went to school at Athlone and +at Edgeworthstown, and was in every school trick, either as an actor or a +victim. On leaving the school at Edgeworthstown, Oliver entered Dublin +University as a sizar, "at once studying freedom and practising servitude." +Little went well with him in his student course. He had a menial position, +a savage brute for a tutor, and few inclinations to the study exacted. But +he was not without his consolations; he could sing a song well, and, at a +new insult, could blow off excitement through his flute. The popular +picture of him in these days is of a slow, hesitating, somewhat hollow +voice, a low-sized, thick, robust, ungainly figure, lounging about the +college courts on the wait for misery and ill-luck.</p> + +<p>In Oliver's second year at college his father died suddenly, and the +scanty sum required for his support stopped. Squalid poverty relieved by +occasional gifts was Goldsmith's lot thenceforward. He would write +street-ballads to save himself from actual starving, sell them for five +shillings a-piece, and steal out of the college at night to hear them sung. +It is said to have been a rare occurrence when the five shillings reached +home with him. It was more likely, when he was at his utmost need, to stop +with some beggar on the road who had seemed to him even more destitute than +himself.</p> + +<p>He took his degree as bachelor of arts on February 27, 1749 and +returning to his mother's house, at Ballymahon, waited till he could +qualify himself for orders. This is the sunny time between two dismal +periods of his life--the day occupied in the village school, the winter +nights in presiding at Conway's inn, the summer evenings strolling up the +banks of the Inny to play the flute, learning French from the Irish +priests, or winning a prize for throwing a sledge-hammer at the fair.</p> + +<p>When the time came for Goldsmith to take orders, one report says he did +not deem himself good enough for it, and another says that he presented +himself before the Bishop of Elphin in scarlet breeches; but in truth his +rejection is the only certainty.</p> + +<p>A year's engagement as a tutor followed, and from it he returned home +with thirty pounds in his pocket, and was the undisputed owner of a good +horse. Thus furnished and mounted he set off for Cork with a vision of +going to America, but returned presently with only five shillings and a +horse he had bought for one pound seventeen.</p> + +<p>Law was the next thing thought of, and his uncle Contarine, who had +married his father's sister, came forward with fifty pounds. With this sum +Oliver started for London, but gambled it all away in Dublin. In bitter +shame he wrote to his uncle, confessed, and was forgiven, and the good +uncle then made up a small purse to carry him to Edinburgh for the study of +medicine.</p> + +<p>No traditions remain in Edinburgh as to the character or extent of +Goldsmith's studies there, but it may be supposed that his eighteen months' +residence was, on the whole, not unprofitable. A curious document that has +been discovered is a torn leaf of a tailor's ledger radiant with "rich +sky-blue satin, fine sky-blue shalloon, a superfine silver-laced small hat, +rich black Genoa velvet, and superfine high claret-coloured cloth," ordered +by Mr. Oliver Goldsmith, student.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Through Europe with a Flute</i></h4> + + +<p>From Edinburgh he sailed for Leyden, but called on the way at Newcastle +and saw enough of England to be able to say that "of all objects on this +earth an English farmer's daughter is the most charming." Little is known +of his pursuits at Leyden, where his principal means of support were as a +teacher. After staying there nearly a year, he quitted it (1755) at the age +of twenty-seven, for a travel tour through Europe, with a guinea in his +pocket, one shirt on his back, and a flute in his hand.</p> + +<p>Goldsmith started on his travels in February, 1755, and stepped ashore +at Dover February 1, 1756. For his route it is necessary to consult his +writings. His letters of the time have perished. In later life, Foote tells +us, "he frequently used to talk, with great pleasantry, of his distresses +on the Continent, such as living on the hospitalities of the friars, +sleeping in barns, and picking up a kind of mendicant livelihood by the +German flute." His early memoir-writers assert with confidence that in some +small portion of his travels he acted as companion to a young man of large +fortune. It is certain that the rude, strange wandering life to which his +nature for a time impelled him was an education picked up from personal +experience and by actual collision with many varieties of men, and that it +gave him on several social questions much the advantage over the more +learned of his contemporaries. As he passed through Flanders, Louvain +attracted him, and here, according to his first biographer, he took the +degree of medical bachelor. This is likely enough. Certain it is he made +some stay at Louvain, became acquainted with its professors, and informed +himself of its modes of study. Some little time he also passed at Brussels. +Undoubtedly he visited Antwerp, and he rested a brief space in Paris. He +must have taken the lecture-rooms of Germany on his way to Switzerland. +Passing into that country he saw Schaffhausen frozen. Geneva was his +resting-place in Switzerland, but he visited Basle and Berne. Descending +into Piedmont, he saw Milan, Verona, Mantua, and Florence, and at Padua is +supposed to have stayed some six months, and, it has been asserted, +received his degree. "Sir," said Johnson to Boswell, "he <i>disputed</i> +his passage through Europe."</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Physic, Teaching, and Authorship</i></h4> + + +<p>Landing at Dover without a farthing in his pocket, the traveller took +ten days to reach London, where an uncertain story says he gained +subsistence for a few months as an usher, under a feigned name. At last a +chemist of the name of Jacob, at the corner of Monument Yard, engaged him. +While employed among the drugs he met an old Edinburgh fellow-student, Owen +Sleigh, who, "with a heart as warm as ever, shared his home and +friendship." Goldsmith now began to practise as a physician in a humble +way, and through one of his patients was introduced to Richardson and +appointed for a short time reader and corrector to his press in Salisbury +Court. Next we find him at Peckham Academy, acting as assistant to Dr. +Milner, whose son had been at Edinburgh.</p> + +<p>Milner was a contributor to the "Monthly Review," published by +Griffiths, the bookseller, and at Milner's table Griffiths and Goldsmith +met, with the result that Goldsmith entered into an agreement to devote +himself to the "Monthly Review" for a year. In fulfilment of that agreement +Mr. and Mrs. Griffiths provided him with bed and board in Paternoster Row, +and, at the age of nine-and-twenty, he began his work as an author by +profession.</p> + +<p>The twelve months' agreement was not carried out. At the end of five +months Goldsmith left the "Monthly Review." During that period he had +reviewed Professor Mallet's translations of Scandinavian poetry and +mythology; Home's tragedy of "Douglas," Burke's "Origin of our Ideas of the +Sublime and Beautiful," Smollett's "Complete History of England," and +Gray's "Odes." Though he was no longer "a not unuseful assistant" to +Griffiths, he kept up an irregular business association with that literary +slave-driver. He also became a contributor to Newbery's "Literary +Magazine." At last, in despair, he turned again from the miseries of Grub +Street to Dr. Milner's school-room at Peckham, and, after another brief +period of teaching, Dr. Milner secured for him the promise of an +appointment as medical officer to one of the East India Company's factories +on the coast of Coromandel. Partly to utilise his travel experiences in a +more formal manner than had yet been possible, and partly to provide funds +for his equipment for foreign service, he now wrote his "Inquiry into the +Present State of Polite Learning in Europe," and, leaving Dr. Milner's, +became a contributor to Hamilton's "Critical Review," a rival to +Griffiths's "Monthly." In these days he lived in a garret in Green Arbour +Court, Old Bailey, with a single chair in the room, and a window seat for +himself if a visitor occupied the chair. For some unknown reason the +Coromandel appointment was withdrawn, and failure in an examination as a +hospital-mate left no hope except in literature.</p> + +<p>The turning-point of Goldsmith's life was reached when Griffiths became +security for a new suit of clothes in which that unfortunate hospital-mate +examination might be attended. On Griffiths finding that the new suit had +been pawned to free the poet's landlady from the bailiffs, he abused him as +a sharper and a villain, and threatened to proceed against him by law as a +criminal. This attack forced from Goldsmith the rejoinder, "Sir, I know of +no misery but a jail to which my own imprudences and your letter seem to +point. I have seen it inevitable these three or four weeks, and, by +heavens! regard it as a favour, as a favour that may prevent somewhat more +fatal. I tell you again and again I am now neither able nor willing to pay +you a farthing, but I will be punctual to any appointment you or the tailor +shall make; thus far at least I do not act the sharper, since, unable to +pay my debts one way, I would willingly give some security another. No, +sir; had I been a sharper, had I been possessed of less good nature and +native generosity, I might surely now have been in better circumstances. My +reflections are filled with repentance for my imprudence, but not with any +remorse for being a villain."</p> + +<p>The result of this correspondence was that Goldsmith contracted to write +for Griffiths a "Life of Voltaire"; the payment being twenty pounds, with +the price of the clothes to be deducted from the sum.</p> + +<p>In the autumn of 1759 Goldsmith commenced, for bookseller Wilkie, of St. +Paul's Churchyard, the weekly writing of "The Bee," a threepenny magazine +of essays. It ended with its eighth number, for the public would not buy +it. At the same time he was writing for Mr. Pottinger's "Busybody," and Mr. +Wilkie's "Lady's Magazine." "The Bee," though unsuccessful, brought +Goldsmith useful friends--Smollett and Garrick, and Mr. Newbery, the +publisher--and with the New Year (1760) he was working with Smollett on +"The British Magazine," and, immediately afterwards, on Newbery's "Public +Ledger," a daily newspaper, for which he wrote two articles a week at a +guinea for each article. Among the articles were the series that still +divert and instruct us--"The Citizen of the World." This was the title +given when the "Letters from a Chinese Philosopher in London to his Friend +in the East" were republished by Newbery, at the end of the year. Goldsmith +now began to know his own value as a writer.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Social and Literary Success</i></h4> + + +<p>His widening reputation brought him into association and friendship with +Johnson, to whom he was introduced by Dr. Percy, the collector of the +"Reliques of Ancient English Poetry." Goldsmith gave a supper in honour of +his visitor, and when Percy called on Johnson to accompany him to their +host's lodgings, to his great astonishment he found Johnson in a new suit +of clothes, with a new wig, nicely powdered, perfectly dissimilar from his +usual appearance. On being asked the cause of this transformation Johnson +replied, "Why, sir, I hear that Goldsmith, who is a very great sloven, +justifies his disregard of cleanliness and decency by quoting my practice; +and I am desirous this night to show him a better example."</p> + +<p>Johnson was perhaps the first literary man of the times who estimated +Goldsmith according to his true merits as a writer and thinker, and he was +repaid by an affectionate devotion that was never worn out during the later +years when the Dictator was too ready to make a butt of the unready +Irishman. Goldsmith now joined the group of literary friends who gathered +frequently at the shop of Tom Davies, the bookseller, where Johnson and +Boswell first met, and he was one of the famous Literary Club which grew +out of these meetings.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Johnson to Boswell, at one of their first meetings, +"Goldsmith is one of the first men we have as an author."</p> + +<p>This was said at a time when all Goldsmith's best works had yet to be +written. He was still working for the booksellers, and in 1763, issued +anonymously a "History of England in a Series of Letters from a Nobleman to +his Son." To various noblemen credit for this popular work was given, +including Lord Chesterfield. Growing success was only an excuse for growing +extravagance, and in 1764 Goldsmith was placed temporarily under arrest for +debt, probably by his landlady, Mrs. Fleming, with whom he had been living +at Islington under an arrangement made by Newbery. His withdrawal from the +town had given him opportunities for congenial labour on "The Traveller" +and "The Vicar of Wakefield," and when Johnson appeared, in answer to his +urgent summons, it was the manuscript of "The Vicar" that he carried off, +and sold for sixty pounds, to relieve immediate anxieties.</p> + +<p>Still, it was "The Traveller" that was first published (December 19, +1764). Johnson pronounced it a poem to which it would not be easy to find +anything equal since the death of Pope. The predominant impression of "The +Traveller" is of its naturalness and facility. The serene graces of its +style, and the mellow flow of its verse, take us captive before we feel the +enchantment of its lovely images of various life reflected from its calm, +still depths of philosophic contemplation. A fourth edition was issued by +August, and a ninth appeared in the year when the poet died. The price paid +for it by Newbery was, apparently, twenty guineas.</p> + +<p>It was in the spring of 1766, fifteen months after it had been acquired +by Newbery, that "The Vicar of Wakefield" was published. No book upon +record has obtained a wider popularity, and none is more likely to endure. +It is our first pure example of the simple, domestic novel. As a refuge +from the compiling of books was this book undertaken. Simple to baldness +are the materials used, but Goldsmith threw into the midst of them his own +nature, his actual experience, the suffering, discipline, and sweet emotion +of his chequered life, and so made them a lesson and a delight to all men. +The book silently forced its way. No noise was made about it, no trumpets +were blown for it, but admiration gathered steadily around it, and by +August a third edition had been reached.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Poet, Dramatist, and Spendthrift</i></h4> + + +<p>Goldsmith had long been a constant frequenter of the theatres, and one +of the most sagacious critics of the actors of his day; and it was natural +that, having succeeded as an essayist, a poet, and a novelist, he should +try his fortune with the drama. In 1767 a comedy was in Garrick's hands, +wherein, following the method of Farquhar, he attempted by the help of +nature, humour, and character, to invoke the spirit of laughter, happy, +unrestrained, and cordial. After long, and not very friendly, temporising +by the great actor, Goldsmith withdrew the play from Drury Lane and +committed it to Colman at Covent Garden; but it was not till January 29, +1768, that "The Good-Natur'd Man" was acted. It proved a reasonably fair +success. Johnson, who wrote the prologue, went to see the comedy rehearsed, +and showed unwavering kindness to his friend at this trying time.</p> + +<p>While the play was under discussion and preparation, Goldsmith was +engaged in writing for Tom Davies an easy, popular, "History of Rome," in +the style of his anonymous "Letters from a Nobleman to His Son," proceeding +with it at leisure in his cottage at Edgeware. The success of "The +Good-Natured Man," though far from equal to its claims of character, wit, +and humour, very sensibly affected its author's ways of life. It put +£500 in his pocket, which he at once proceeded to squander on fine +chambers in the Temple, and new suits of gay clothing followed in quick +succession.</p> + +<p>During the next year, 1769, the "Roman History" was published, and the +first month's sale established its success so firmly that Goldsmith +received an offer of £500 for a "History of England," in four +volumes, to be "written and compiled in two years." At the same time he was +under agreement for his "Natural History," or, as it was finally termed, +his "History of Animated Nature."</p> + +<p>These years of heavy work were among the happiest of Goldsmith's life, +for he had made the acquaintance of the Misses Horneck, girls of nineteen +and seventeen. The elder, Catherine, or "Little Comedy," was already +engaged; the younger, Mary, who had the loving nickname of the "Jessamy +Bride," exercised over him a strong fascination. Their social as well as +personal charms are uniformly spoken of by all. Mary, who did not marry +till after Goldsmith's death, lived long enough to be admired by Hazlitt, +to whom she talked of the poet with affection unabated by age, till he +"could almost fancy the shade of Goldsmith in the room, looking round with +complacency."</p> + +<p>It was during these years of busy bookmaking, too, that the poet was +perfecting his "Deserted Village." On May 26, 1770, it appeared, published +at two shillings. Its success was instant and decisive. By August 16, a +fifth edition had appeared. When Gray heard the poem read, he exclaimed, +"This man is a poet!" The judgment has since been affirmed by hundreds of +thousands of readers, and any adverse appeal is little likely now to be +lodged against it. Within the circle of its claims and pretensions, a more +entirely satisfactory and delightful poem than "The Deserted Village" was +probably never written. It lingers in the memory where once it has entered; +and such is the softening influence on the heart of the mild, tender, yet +clear light which makes its images so distinct and lovely, that there are +few who have not wished to rate it higher than poetry of yet higher genius. +Goldsmith looked into his heart and wrote.</p> + +<p>The poet had now attained social distinction, and we find him passing +from town to country with titled friends, and visiting, in somewhat failing +health, fashionable resorts, such as Bath. His home remained in the Temple. +His worldly affairs continued a source of constant embarrassment, however, +and when, in 1772, he had placed the manuscript of "She Stoops to Conquer" +in the hands of Colman, not only his own entreaties but the interference of +Johnson were used to hasten its production in order to relieve his +anxieties. Colman was convinced the comedy would be unsuccessful. It was +first acted on March 15, 1773, and, "quite the reverse to everybody's +expectation," it was received with the utmost applause.</p> + +<p>At this time Goldsmith was sadly in arrears with work he had promised to +the booksellers; disputes were pending, and his circumstances were verging +on positive distress. The necessity of completing his "Animated +Nature"--for which all the money had been received and spent--hung like a +mill-stone upon him. His advances had been considerable on other works not +yet begun. In what leisure he could get from these tasks he was working at +a "Grecian History" to procure means to meet his daily liabilities.</p> + +<p>It occurred to friends at this time to agitate the question of a pension +for him, on the ground of "distinction in the literary world, and the +prospect of approaching distress," but as he had never been a political +partisan, the application was met by a firm refusal. Out of the worries of +this darkening period, with ill-health adding to his cares, the genius of +the poet flashed forth once more in his personal poem, "Retaliation." At a +club dinner at St. James's coffee-house, the proposition was made that each +member present should write an epitaph on Goldsmith, and Garrick started +with:</p> + +<blockquote> +Here is Nolly Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,<br /> +Who wrote like an angel, and talked like poor Poll.<br /> +</blockquote> + +<p>Later, Goldsmith retaliated with epitaphs on his circle of club friends. +His list of discriminating pictures was not complete when he died. Indeed, +the picture of Reynolds breaks off with a half line.</p> + +<p>On March 25, 1774, the poet was too ill to attend the club +gathering--how ill, his friends failed to realise. On the morning of April +4, he died from weakness following fever. "Is your mind at ease?" asked his +doctor. "No, it is not," was the melancholy answer, and his last recorded +words. His debts amounted to not less than two thousand pounds. "Was ever +poet so trusted!" exclaimed Johnson.</p> + +<p>His remains were committed to their final resting-place in the burial +ground of the Temple Church, and the staircase of his chambers is said to +have been filled with mourners the reverse of domestic--women without a +home, without domesticity of any kind, with no friend but him they had come +to weep for, outcasts of that great, solitary, wicked city, to whom he had +never forgotten to be kind and charitable.</p> + +<p>Johnson spoke his epitaph in an emphatic sentence: "He had raised money, +and squandered it, by every artifice of acquisition and folly of expense; +but let not his frailties be remembered--he was a very great man."</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="GEORGE_FOX"></a>GEORGE FOX</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Journal"></a>Journal</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> George Fox, the founder of the Society of Friends, or +"Friends of the Truth," was born at Drayton, Leicestershire, in July, 1624, +and died in London on January 13, 1691. His "Journal," here epitomised, was +published in 1694, after being revised by a committee under the +superintendence of William Penn, and prefaced for the press by Thomas +Ellwood, the Quaker. Fox rejected all outward shows of religion, and +believed in an inward light and leading. He claimed to be divinely directed +as he wandered, Bible in hand, through the country, denouncing +church-worship, a paid ministry, religious "profession," and advocating a +spiritual affiliation with Christ as the only true religion. He was +imprisoned often and long for "brawling" in churches and refusing to take +oaths then required by law. Fox wrote in prison many books of religious +exhortation, his style being tantalisingly involved. The one work that +lives is the "Journal," a quaintly egotistic record of unquestioning faith +and unconquerable endurance in pursuit of a spiritual ideal through a rude +age. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--His Youth and Divine Calling</i></h4> + + +<p>I was born in the month called July, 1624, at Drayton-in-the-Clay, in +Leicestershire. My father's name was Christopher Fox; he was by profession +a weaver, an honest man, and there was a seed of God in him. In my very +young years I had a gravity and staidness of mind and spirit not usual in +children. When I came to eleven years of age I knew pureness and +righteousness. The Lord taught me to be faithful in all things, inwardly to +God and outwardly to man, and to keep to "Yea" and "Nay" in all things.</p> + +<p>Afterwards, as I grew up, I was put to a man, a shoemaker by trade, who +dealt in wool, and was a grazier, and sold cattle, and a great deal went +through my hands. I never wronged man or woman in all that time; for the +Lord's power was with me, and over me to preserve me. While I was in that +service, it was common saying among people that knew me, "If George says +'Verily,' there is no altering him."</p> + +<p>At the command of God, on the ninth day of the seventh month, 1643, I +left my relations, and broke off all familiarity or fellowship with old or +young. I went to Barnet in the month called June, in 1644. Now, during the +time that I was at Barnet a strong temptation to despair came upon me. Then +I thought, because I had forsaken my relations, I had done amiss against +them. I was about twenty years of age when these exercises came upon me, +and I continued in that condition some years in great trouble. I went to +many a priest to look for comfort, but found no comfort from them. Then the +priest of Drayton, the town of my birth, whose name was Nathaniel Stephens, +came often to me, and I went often to him. At that time he would applaud +and speak highly of me to others, and what I said in discourse to him on +the week days he would preach of on the first days, for which I did not +like him. This priest afterwards became my great persecutor.</p> + +<p>After this I went to another ancient priest at Mancetter, in +Warwickshire, and reasoned with him about the ground of despair and +temptations; but he was ignorant of my condition, he bade me take tobacco +and sing psalms. Tobacco was a thing I did not love, and psalms I was not +in a state to sing. Then I heard of a priest living about Tamworth, but I +found him only like an empty, hollow cask. Later I went to another, one +Mackam, a priest of high account. He would needs give me some physic, and I +was to have been let blood. I thought them miserable comforters, and saw +they were all as nothing to me, for they could not reach my condition. And +this struck me, "that to be bred at Oxford or Cambridge was not enough to +make a man fit to be a minister of Christ." So neither these, nor any of +the dissenting people, could I join with, but was a stranger to all, +relying wholly upon the Lord Jesus Christ.</p> + +<p>It was now opened in me "that God, who made the world, did not dwell in +temples made with hands," but in people's hearts, and His people were His +temple. During all this time I was never joined in profession of religion +with any, being afraid both of professor and profane. For which reason I +kept myself much a stranger, seeking heavenly wisdom and getting knowledge +from the Lord.</p> + +<p>When all my hopes in them were gone, then--oh, then--I heard a voice +which said, "There is one, even Christ Jesus, that can speak to thy +condition." And when I heard it my heart did leap for joy, and the Lord +stayed my desires upon himself.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Preaching and Persecution</i></h4> + + +<p>Then came people from far and near to see me, and I was made to speak +and open things to them. And there was one Brown, who had great prophecies +and sights upon his death-bed of me. He spoke only of what I should be made +instrumental by the Lord to bring forth. And I had great openings and +prophecies, and spoke of the things of God.</p> + +<p>And many who heard me spread the fame thereof, and the Lord's power got +ground, and many were turned from the darkness to the light within the +compass of these three years--1646, 1647, and 1648. Moreover, when the Lord +sent me forth, he forbade me to "put off my hat" to any, high or low. And I +was required to "thee" and "thou" all, men and women, without any respect +to rich or poor, great or small. But, oh, the rage that then was in the +priests, magistrates, professors, and people of all sorts; but especially +in priests and professors! Oh, the scorn, the heat and fury that arose! Oh, +the blows, punchings, beatings, and imprisonments that we underwent!</p> + +<p>About this time I was sorely exercised in speaking and writing to judges +and justices to do justly; in warning such as kept public-houses for +entertainment that they should not let people have more drink than would do +them good. In fairs also and in markets I was made to declare against their +deceitful merchandise, cheating, and cozening; warning all to deal justly, +to speak the truth, to let their yea be yea, and their nay be nay. Likewise +I was made to warn masters and mistresses, fathers and mothers in private +families, to take care that their children and servants might be trained up +in the fear of the Lord; and that they themselves should be therein +examples and patterns of sobriety and virtue.</p> + +<p>But the earthly spirit of the priests wounded my life, and when I heard +the bell toll to call people together to the steeple-house it struck at my +life; for it was just like a market-bell to gather people together, that +the priest might set forth his wares to sale.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--In Perils Oft</i></h4> + + +<p>Now as I went towards Nottingham on a first-day, when I came on the top +of a hill in sight of the town, I espied the great steeple-house, and the +Lord said unto me, "Thou must go cry against yonder great idol, and against +the worshippers therein." When I came there all the people looked like +fallow ground, the priest (like a great lump of earth) stood in his pulpit +above. Now the Lord's power was so mighty upon me that I could not hold, +but was made to cry out.</p> + +<p>As I spoke, the officers came and took me away, and put me into a nasty, +stinking prison, the smell whereof got so into my nose and throat that it +very much annoyed me. But that day the Lord's power sounded so in their +ears that they were amazed at the voice. At night they took me before the +mayor, aldermen, and sheriffs of the town. They examined me at large, and I +told them how the Lord had moved me to come. After some discourse between +them and me, they sent me back to prison again; but some time after the +head sheriff sent for me to his house. I lodged at the sheriff's, and great +meetings we had in his house. The Lord's power was with this friendly +sheriff, and wrought a mighty change in him; and accordingly he went into +the market, and into several streets, and preached repentance to the +people. Hereupon the magistrates grew very angry, and sent for me from the +sheriff's house, and committed me to the common prison. Now, after I was +released from Nottingham gaol, where I had been kept prisoner for some +time, I travelled as before in the work of the Lord.</p> + +<p>And while I was at Mansfield-Woodhouse, I was moved to go to the +steeple-house there, and declare the truth to the priest and people; but +the people fell upon me in great rage, struck me down, and almost stifled +and smothered me; and I was cruelly beaten and bruised by them with their +hands, Bibles, and sticks. Then they haled me out, though I was hardly able +to stand, and put me into the stocks, where I sat some hours. After some +time they had me before the magistrate, who, seeing how evilly I had been +used, after much threatening, set me at liberty. But the rude people stoned +me out of the town for preaching the word.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--A Willing Sufferer</i></h4> + + +<p>While I was in the house of correction at Derby as a blasphemer, my +relations came to see me, and being troubled for my imprisonment they went +to the justices that cast me into prison, and desired to have me home with +them, offering to be bound in one hundred pounds, and others of Derby with +them in fifty pounds each, that I should come no more thither to declare +against the priests. So I was had up before the justices, and because I +would not consent that they or any should be bound for me--for I was +innocent from any ill-behaviour, and had spoken the word of life and truth +unto them--Justice Bennett rose up in a rage; and as I was kneeling down to +pray to the Lord to forgive him, he ran upon me, and struck me with both +his hands. Whereupon I was had again to the prison, and there kept until +six months were expired.</p> + +<p>Now the time of my commitment being nearly ended, the keeper of the +house of correction was commanded to bring me before the commissioners and +soldiers in the market-place, and there they offered me preferment, as they +called it, asking me if I would take up arms for the commonwealth against +Charles Stuart; but I told them I lived in the virtue of that life and +power that took away the occasion of all wars, and was come into the +covenant of peace which was before wars and strifes were.</p> + +<p>I then passed through the country, clearing myself amongst the people; +and some received me lovingly, and some slighted me. And some when I +desired lodging and meat, and would pay for it, would not lodge me except I +would go to the constable, which was the custom, they said, of all lodgers +at inns, if strangers. I told them I should not go, for that custom was for +suspicious persons, but I was an innocent man.</p> + +<p>And I passed in the Lord's power into Yorkshire, and came to Tickhill, +where I was moved to go to the steeple-house. But when I began to speak +they fell upon me, and the clerk took up his Bible and struck me in the +face with it, so that it gushed out with blood, and I bled exceedingly in +the steeple-house. Then the people got me out and beat me exceedingly, +stoning me as they drew me along, so that I was besmeared all over with +blood and dirt. Yet when I got upon my legs again I declared to them the +word of life. Some moderate justices, hearing of it, came to hear and +examine the business, and he that shed my blood was afraid of having his +hand cut off for striking me in the church (as they called it), but I +forgave him, and would not appear against him.</p> + +<p>Then I went to Swarthmore to Judge Fell's, and from there to Ulverstone, +where the people heard me gladly, until Justice Sawrey--the first +stirrer-up of cruel persecution in the North--incensed them against me, to +hale, beat, and bruise me, and the rude multitude, some with staves and +others with holly-bushes, beat me on the head, arms, and shoulders till +they deprived me of sense. And my body and arms were yellow, black, and +blue with the blows I received that day, and I was not able to bear the +shaking of a horse without much pain. And Judge Fell, coming home, asked me +to give him a relation of my persecution, but I made light of it--as he +told his wife--as a man that had not been concerned, for, indeed, the +Lord's power healed me again.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Encounters with Cromwell</i></h4> + + +<p>When I came to Leicester I was carried up a prisoner by Captain Drury, +one of the Protector's life-guards, who brought me to London and lodged me +at the Mermaid, over against the Mews at Charing Cross. And I was moved of +the Lord to write a paper to Oliver Cromwell, wherein I declared against +all violence, and that I was sent of God to bring the people from the +causes of war and fighting to a peaceable gospel. After some time Captain +Drury brought me before the Protector himself at Whitehall, and I spoke +much to him of truth and religion, wherein he carried himself very +moderately; and as I spoke he several times said it was very good and it +was truth, and he wished me no more ill than he did his own soul.</p> + +<p>When I went into Cornwall I was seized and brought to Launceston to be +tried, and being settled in prison upon such a commitment that we were not +likely to be soon released, we were put down into Doomsdale, a nasty, +stinking place where they put murderers after they were condemned; and we +were fain to stand all night, for we could not sit down, the place was so +filthy. We sent a copy of our sufferings to the Protector, who sent down +General Desborough to offer us liberty if we would go home and preach no +more; but we could not promise him. At last he freely set us at liberty, +and in Cornwall, Devonshire, Dorsetshire, and Somersetshire, the truth +began to spread mightily.</p> + +<p>After a little while Edward Pyot and I were moved to speak to Oliver +Cromwell again concerning the sufferings of Friends, and we laid them +before him, and directed him to the light of Christ. Afterwards we passed +on through the counties to Wales, and by Manchester to Scotland; but the +Scots, being a dark, carnal people, gave little heed, and hardly took +notice of what was said.</p> + +<p>And when I had returned to London I was moved to write again to Oliver +Cromwell. There was a rumour about this time of making Cromwell king, +whereupon I warned him against it, and he seemed to take well what I said +to him, and thanked me. Taking boat to Kingston, and thence to Hampton +Court, to speak with him about the sufferings of Friends, I met him riding +into Hampton Court Park before I came to him. As he rode at the head of his +life-guards, I felt a waft of death go forth against him, and he looked +like a dead man. After I had warned him, as I was moved, he bid me come to +his house. But when I came he was sick, so I passed away, and never saw him +more.</p> + +<p>After, I was imprisoned in Lancaster, but when I had been in gaol twenty +weeks was released on King Charles being satisfied of my innocency. Then I +was tried at Leicester and found guilty, but was set at liberty suddenly. +And at Lancaster I was tried because when they tendered me the oaths of +allegiance and supremacy I would not take any oath at all, and there I was +a prisoner in the castle for Christ's sake, but was never called to hear +sentence given, but was removed by an order from the king and council. And +afterwards I lay a year in Scarborough gaol, but was discharged by order of +the king as a man of peaceable life.</p> + +<p>And on the 2nd of the second month of the year 1674 I was brought to +trial at Worcester, and during my imprisonment there I wrote several books +for the press, and this imprisonment so much weakened me that I was long +before I recovered my natural strength again, and in later years my body +was never able to bear the closeness of cities long.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="BENJAMIN_FRANKLIN"></a>BENJAMIN FRANKLIN</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Autobiography3"></a>Autobiography</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Benjamin Franklin, a great and typical American, and one of +the most influential founders of the young republic, was born at Boston, +Mass., on January 17, 1706. The story of his first fifty years is related +in the vigorous and inspiring "Autobiography," published in 1817. But the +book does not carry the story further than the year 1758, which was just +the time when he took a foremost place in world-politics, as official +representative of the New World in the Old World. He came in that year to +England, where he remained five years as agent of the colony of +Pennsylvania. Again in London, as agent for several colonies, from 1764 to +1775, Franklin fought for their right not to be taxed by the home country +without having a voice in matters which concerned themselves; and from 1776 +to 1785 he represented his country in Paris, obtaining the assistance of +the French government in the War of Independence. On his return to America +in 1785 Franklin was chosen President of the State of Pennsylvania. He died +on April 17, 1790. Franklin's correspondence, during these important years +in Europe, as well as the letters of the last five years of his life, have +been ably edited by John Bigelow, and form, in some sort, a continuation of +the "Autobiography," published in 1874. The "Autobiography" is published in +a number of inexpensive forms. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Early Education</i></h4> + + +<p>Our family had lived in the village of Ecton, Northamptonshire, for 300 +years, the eldest son being always bred to the smith's business. I was the +youngest son of the youngest son for five generations back. My father +married young, and carried his wife and three children to New England, +about 1682, in order that they might there enjoy their Non-conformist +religion with freedom. He married a second time, and had in all seventeen +children.</p> + +<p>I had but little schooling, being taken home at ten years to help my +father's business of tallow-chandler. I disliked the trade, and desired to +go to sea; living near the water in our home at Boston, I learned to swim +well, and to manage boats. From a child I was fond of reading, and laid out +all my little money on books, such as Bunyan's works, which I sold to get +Burton's "Historical Collections"; and in my father's little library there +were Plutarch's "Lives," De Foe's "Essays on Projects," and Mather's +"Essays to do Good." This bookish inclination determined my father to bind +me apprentice to my brother James, a printer in Boston, and in a little +time I became very proficient. I had access to more books, and often sat up +most of the night reading. I had also a fancy to poetry, and made some +little pieces; my brother printed them, and sent me about the town to sell +them.</p> + +<p>I now took in hand the improvement of my writing by various exercises in +prose and verse, being extremely ambitious to become a good English writer. +My time for these exercises was at night and on Sundays. At about 16 years +of age, meeting with a book on the subject, I took to a vegetable diet, and +thus not only saved an additional fund to buy books, but also gained +greater clearness of head. I now studied arithmetic, navigation, geometry, +and read Locke "On the Human Understanding," the "Art of Thinking," by +Messrs. du Port Royal, and Xenophon's "Memorable Things of Socrates." From +this last I learned to drop my abrupt contradiction and positive +argumentation, and to put on the humble inquirer and doubter.</p> + +<p>My brother had begun to print a newspaper, "The New England Courant," +the second that appeared in America. Some of his friends thought it not +likely to succeed, one newspaper being enough for America; yet at this time +there are not less than five-and-twenty. To this paper I began to +contribute anonymously, disguising my hand, and putting my MSS. at night +under the door of the printing-house. These were highly approved, until I +claimed their authorship.</p> + +<p>But I soon took upon me to assert my freedom, and determined to go to +New York. A friend of mine agreed with the captain of a sloop for my +passage; I was taken on board privately, and in three days found myself in +New York, near 300 miles from home, a boy of but seventeen, and with very +little money in my pocket. The printer there could not give me employment, +but told me of a vacancy in Philadelphia, 100 miles further. Thither, +therefore, I proceeded, partly by land, and partly by sea, and landed with +one Dutch dollar in my pocket.</p> + +<p>There were two printers in the town, both of them poorly qualified. +Bradford was very illiterate, and Keimer, though something of a scholar, +was a mere compositor, knowing nothing of press-work. Keimer gave me +employment. He had been one of the French prophets, and could act their +enthusiastic agitations. He did not profess any particular religion, but +something of all on occasion, and had a good deal of the knave in his +composition. I began to have acquaintance among the young people that were +lovers of reading; and gaining money by industry and frugality, I lived +very agreeably, forgetting Boston as much as I could.</p> + +<p>At length my brother-in-law, master of a sloop, heard of me, and wrote +exhorting me to return, to which I answered in a letter which came under +the eyes of Sir William Keith, governor of the province. He was surprised +when he was told my age, and said that I ought to be encouraged; if I would +set up in Philadelphia he would procure me the public business.</p> + +<p>Sir William promised to set me up himself. I did not know his reputation +for promises which he never meant to keep, and at his suggestion I sailed +for England to choose the types. Understanding that his letters +recommendatory to a number of friends and his letter of credit to furnish +me with the necessary money, which he had failed to give me before the ship +sailed, were with the rest of his despatches, I asked the captain for them, +and when we came into the Channel he let me examine the bag. I found none +upon which my name was put as under my care. I began to doubt his +sincerity, and a fellow passenger, on my opening the affair to him, let me +into the governor's character, and told me that no one had the smallest +dependence on him.</p> + +<p>I immediately got work at Palmer's, a famous printing-house in +Bartholomew Close, London. I was employed in composing for the second +edition of Wollaston's "Religion of Nature," and some of his reasonings not +appearing to me well-founded, I wrote a little metaphysical piece entitled +"A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain." This brought +me the acquaintance of Dr. Mandeville, author of the "Fable of the Bees," a +most facetious, entertaining companion. I presently left Palmer's to work +at Watts, near Lincoln's Inn Fields, and here I continued for the rest of +my eighteen months in London. But I had grown tired of that city, and when +a Mr. Denham, who was returning to Philadelphia to open a store, offered to +take me as his clerk, I gladly accepted.</p> + +<p>We landed in Philadelphia on October 11, 1726, where I found sundry +alterations. Keith was no longer governor; and Miss Read, to whom I had +paid some courtship, had been persuaded in my absence to marry one Rogers, +a potter. With him, however, she was never happy, and soon parted from him; +he was a worthless fellow. Mr. Denham took a store, but died next February, +and I returned to Keimer's printing-house.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Making His Way</i></h4> + + +<p>I had now just passed my twenty-first year; and it may be well to let +you know the then state of my mind with regard to my principles and morals. +My parents had brought me through my childhood piously in the dissenting +way, but now I had become a thorough Deist. My arguments had perverted some +others, but as each of these persons had afterwards wronged me greatly +without the least compunction, and as my own conduct towards others had +given me great trouble, I began to suspect that this doctrine, though it +might be true, was not very useful. I now, therefore, grew convinced that +truth, sincerity, and integrity between man and man were of the utmost +importance to the felicity of life; and I formed written resolutions to +practice them ever while I lived.</p> + +<p>I now set up in partnership with Meredith, one of Keimer's workmen, the +money being found by Meredith's father. In the autumn of the preceding +year, I had formed most of my ingenious acquaintance into a club of mutual +improvement, which we called the Junto; it met on Friday evenings for +essays and debates. Every one of its members exerted himself in +recommending business to our new firm.</p> + +<p>Soon Keimer started a newspaper, "The Universal Instructor in all Arts +and Sciences and Pennsylvania Gazette," but after carrying it on for some +months with only ninety subscribers he sold it to me for a trifle, and it +proved in a few years extremely profitable. With the help of two good +friends I bought out Meredith in 1729, and continued the business +alone.</p> + +<p>I had turned my thoughts to marriage, but soon found that, the business +of a printer being thought a poor one, I was not to expect money with a +wife. Friendly relations had continued between me and Mrs. Read's family; I +pitied poor Miss Read's unfortunate situation, and our mutual affection +revived. Though there was a report of her husband's death, and another +report that he had a preceding wife in England, neither of these were +certain, and he had left many debts, which his successor might be called on +to pay.</p> + +<p>But we ventured over these difficulties, and I took her to wife +September 1, 1730. None of the inconveniences happened that we had +apprehended; she proved a good and faithful helpmate, assisted me much by +attending the shop; we throve together, and have ever mutually endeavoured +to make each other happy.</p> + +<p>I now set on foot my first project of a public nature, that for a +subscription library. By the help of our club, the Junto, I procured fifty +subscribers of forty shillings each to begin with, and ten shillings a year +for fifty years. We afterwards obtained a charter, and this was the mother +of all the North American subscription libraries now so numerous, which +have made the common tradesmen and farmers as intelligent as most gentlemen +from other countries.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Scheme of Virtues</i></h4> + + +<p>It was about 1733 that I conceived the bold and arduous project of +arriving at moral perfection. I wished to live without committing any fault +at any time; I would conquer all that natural inclination, custom, or +company might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right +and wrong, I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid the +other. But I soon found that I had undertaken a task of great difficulty, +and I therefore contrived the following method. I included under thirteen +names of virtues all that at that time occurred to me as necessary or +desirable, and annexed to each a short precept, which expressed the extent +which I gave to its meaning.</p> + +<p>The names of virtues were: Temperance, silence, order, resolution, +frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation, cleanliness, +tranquillity, chastity, and humility. My list contained at first only +twelve virtues, but a friend having informed me that I was generally +thought proud, I determined endeavouring to cure myself of this vice or +folly among the rest; and, though I cannot boast of much success in +acquiring the reality of this virtue, I had a good deal of success with +regard to the appearance of it. My intention being to acquire the habitude +of all these virtues, I determined to give a week's strict attention to +each of them successively, thus going through a complete course in thirteen +weeks, and four courses in a year. I had a little book, in which I allotted +a page for each of the virtues; the page was ruled into days of the week, +and I marked in it, by a little black spot, every fault I found by +examination to have been committed respecting that virtue upon that +day.</p> + +<p>I was surprised to find myself much fuller of faults than I had +imagined, but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish. After a while +I went through one course only in a year, and afterwards only one in +several years, till at length I omitted them entirely; but I always carried +my little book with me. My scheme of order gave me most trouble. It was as +follows.</p> + +<blockquote><p> 5--8 a.m. What good shall I do this day? Rise, wash, and +address Powerful Goodness. Contrive day's business, and take the resolution +of the day; prosecute the present study, and breakfast.</p> + +<p>8 a.m.--12 noon. Work.</p> + +<p>12--1 p.m.--Read, or overlook my accounts, and dine.</p> + +<p>2--6 p.m. Work.</p> + +<p>6--10 p.m. Put things in their places. Supper. Music or diversion, or +conversation. Examination of the day. What good have I done this day?</p> + +<p>10 p.m.--5 a.m. Sleep. </p></blockquote> + +<p>In truth, I found myself incorrigible with regard to order, yet I was, +by the endeavour, a better and a happier man than I should have been if I +had not attempted it. It may be well that my posterity should be informed +that to this little artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor owed +the constant felicity of his life.</p> + +<p>I purposed publishing my scheme, writing a little comment on each +virtue, and I should have called my book "The Art of Virtue," +distinguishing it from the mere exhortation to be good. But my intention +was never fulfilled, for it was connected in my mind with a great and +extensive project, which I have never had time to attend to. I had set +forth on paper the substance of an intended creed, containing, as I +thought, the essentials of every known religion, and I conceived the +project of raising a united party for virtue, by forming the virtuous and +good men of all nations into a regular body, to be governed by suitable +good and wise rules. I thought that the sect should be begun and spread at +first among young and single men only, that each person to be initiated +should declare his assent to my creed, and should have exercised himself +with the thirteen weeks' practice of the virtues, that the existence of the +society should be kept a secret until it was become considerable, that the +members should engage to assist one another's interests, business, and +advancement in life, and that we should be called "The Society of the Free +and Easy," as being free from the dominion of vice and of debt. I am still +of opinion that it was a practicable scheme.</p> + +<p>In 1732 I first published my Almanack, commonly called "Poor Richard's +Almanack," and continued it for about twenty-five years. It had a great +circulation, and I considered it a proper vehicle for conveying instruction +among the common people. Thus, I assembled the proverbs containing the +wisdom of many ages and nations into a discourse prefixed to the Almanack +of 1757, as the harangue of a wise old man to the people attending an +auction. I considered my newspaper also as a means of instruction, and +published in it extracts from moral writers and little pieces of my own, in +the form sometimes of a Socratic dialogue, tending to prove the advantages +of virtue.</p> + +<p>I had begun in 1733 to study languages. I made myself master of French +so as to be able to read books with ease, and then Italian, and later +Spanish. Having an acquaintance with these, I found, on looking over a +Latin Testament, that I understood much of that language, which encouraged +me to study it with success.</p> + +<p>Our secret club, the Junto, had turned out to be so useful that I now +set every member of it to form each of them a subordinate club, with the +same rules, but without informing the new clubs of their connection with +the Junto. The advantages proposed were, the improvement of so many young +citizens; our better acquaintance with the general sentiments of the +inhabitants on any occasion, as the Junto member was to report to the Junto +what passed in his separate club; the promotion of our particular interests +in business by more extensive recommendation; and the increase of our +influence in public affairs. Five or six clubs were completed, and answered +our views of influencing public opinion on particular occasions.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Public Life</i></h4> + + +<p>My first promotion was my being chosen, in 1736, clerk of the General +Assembly. In the following year I received the commission of postmaster at +Philadelphia, and found it of great advantage. I now began to turn my +thoughts a little to public affairs, beginning, however, with small +matters, and preparing the way for my reforms through the Junto and +subordinate clubs. Thus I reformed the city watch, and established a +company for the extinguishing of fires. In 1739 the Rev. Mr. Whitefield +arrived among us and preached to enormous audiences throughout the +colonies. I knew him intimately, being employed in printing his sermons and +journals; he used sometimes to pray for my conversion, but never had the +satisfaction of believing that his prayers were heard. Our friendship +lasted till his death.</p> + +<p>My business was now continually augmenting, and my circumstances daily +growing easier. Spain having been several years at war against Great +Britain, and being at length joined by France, our situation became one of +great danger; our colony was defenceless, and our Assembly was composed +principally of Quakers. I therefore formed an association of citizens, +numbering ten thousand, into a militia; these all furnished themselves with +arms and met every week for drill, while the women provided silk colours +painted with devices and mottoes which I supplied. With the proceeds of a +lottery we built a battery below the town, and borrowed eighteen cannon of +the governor of New York.</p> + +<p>Peace being concluded, and the association business therefore at an end, +I turned my thoughts to the establishment of an academy. I published a +pamphlet; set on foot a subscription, not as an act of mine, but of some +"public-spirited gentleman," and the schools were opened in 1749. They were +soon moved to our largest hall; the trustees were incorporated by a charter +from the governor, and thus was established the University of Pennsylvania. +The building of a hospital for the sick, and the paving, lighting, and +sweeping of the streets of the city, were among the reforms in which I had +a hand at this time. In 1753 I was appointed, jointly with another, +postmaster-general of America, and the following year I drew up a plan for +the union of all the colonies under one government for defence and other +important general purposes. Its fate was singular; the assemblies did not +adopt it, as they thought there was too much prerogative in it, and in +England it was judged to be too democratic. The Board of Trade therefore +did not approve of it, but substituted another scheme for the same end. I +believe that my plan was really the true medium, and that it would have +been happy for both sides of the water if it had been adopted.</p> + +<p>When war was in a manner commenced with France, the British Government, +not choosing to trust the union of the colonies with their defence, lest +they should feel their own strength, sent over General Braddock in 1755 +with two regiments of regular English troops for that purpose. He landed at +Alexandria and marched to Frederictown in Maryland, where he halted for +carriages. I was sent to him by the Assembly, stayed with him for several +days, and had full opportunity of removing all his prejudices against the +colonies by informing him of what the essemblies had done and would still +do to facilitate his operations.</p> + +<p>This general was a brave man, and might have made a figure as a good +officer in some European war. But he had too much self-confidence, too high +an opinion of regular troops, and too mean a one of both Americans and +Indians. Our Indian interpreter joined him with 100 guides and scouts, who +might have been of great use to him; but he slighted and neglected them and +they left him. He said to one of the Indians, "These savages may indeed be +a formidable enemy to your raw American militia, but upon the king's +regular and disciplined troops, sir, it is impossible that they should make +any impression." In the first engagement his force was routed in panic, and +two-thirds of them were killed, by no more than 400 Indians and French +together. This gave us the first suspicion that our exalted ideas of the +prowess of British regulars had not been well founded. Besides, from the +day of their landing, they had plundered, insulted, and abused our +inhabitants. We wanted no such defenders.</p> + +<p>After this the governor prevailed with me to take charge of our +north-west frontier, which was infested by the enemy, and I undertook this +military business, although I did not conceive myself well suited for +it.</p> + +<p>My account of my electrical experiments was read before the Royal +Society of London, and afterwards printed in a pamphlet. The Count de +Buffon, a philosopher of great reputation, had the book translated into +French, and then it appeared in the Italian, German, and Latin languages. +What gave it the more sudden celebrity was the success of its proposed +experiment for drawing lightning from the clouds. I was elected a Fellow of +the Royal Society, and they presented me with the gold medal of Sir Godfrey +Copley, for 1753.</p> + +<p>The Assembly had long had much trouble with the "proprietary," or great +hereditary landowners. Finally, finding that they persisted obstinately in +manacling their deputies with instructions inconsistent, not only with the +privileges of the people, but with the service of the crown, the Assembly +resolved to petition the king against them, and appointed me agent in +England to present and support the petition. I sailed from New York with my +son in the end of June; we dropped anchor in Falmouth harbour, and reached +London on July 27, 1757.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="MRS_GASKELL"></a>MRS. GASKELL</h2> + + +<h3><a name="The_Life_of_Charlotte_Bronte"></a>The Life of Charlotte +Bronte</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Elizabeth Cleghorn Stevenson, afterwards Mrs. Gaskell, was +born at Chelsea on September 29, 1810. At the age of twenty-two she married +William Gaskell, a minister of the Unitarian Church in Manchester. She +became famous in 1848 on the publication of "Mary Barton," a novel treating +of factory life. Her "Life of Charlotte Brontë," published in 1857, +caused much controversy, which became bitter, and occasioned the fixed +resolve on the part of its author that her own memoirs should never be +published. This gloomily-haunting, vivid human "Life of Charlotte +Brontë" was written at the request of the novelist's father, who +placed all the materials in his possession at the disposal of the +biographer. Mrs. Gaskell took great pains to make her work complete, and, +though published only two years after Charlotte Brontë's death, it +still holds the field unchallenged. Mrs. Gaskell died on November 12, 1865. +</p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Children Who Never Played</i></h4> + + +<p>Into the midst of the lawless yet not unkindly population of Haworth, in +the West Riding, the Rev. Patrick Brontë brought his wife and six +little children in February, 1820, seven heavily-laden carts lumbering +slowly up the long stone street bearing the "new parson's" household +goods.</p> + +<p>A native of County Down, Mr. Brontë had entered St. John's College, +Cambridge, in 1802, obtained his B.A. degree, and after serving as a curate +in Essex, had been appointed curate at Hartshead, in Yorkshire. There he +was soon captivated by Maria Branwell, a little gentle creature, the third +daughter of Mr. Thomas Branwell, merchant, of Penzance. In 1816 he received +the living of Thornton, in Bradford Parish, and there, on April 21, +Charlotte Brontë was born. She was the third daughter, Maria and +Elizabeth being her elder sisters, and fast on her heels followed Patrick +Branwell, Emily Jane and Anne.</p> + +<p>"They kept themselves to themselves very close," in the account given by +those who remember the family coming to Haworth. From the first, the walks +of the children were directed rather towards the heathery moors sloping +upwards behind the parsonage than towards the long descending village +street. Hand in hand they used to make their way to the glorious moors, +which in after days they loved so passionately.</p> + +<p>They were grave and silent beyond their years. "You would never have +known there was a child in the house, they were such still, noiseless, good +little creatures," said one of my informants. "Maria would often shut +herself up" (Maria of seven!) "in the children's study with a newspaper or +a periodical, and be able to tell anyone everything when she came out, +debates in parliament, and I know not what all."</p> + +<p>Mr. Brontë wished to make the children hardy, and indifferent to +the pleasures of eating and dress. His strong passionate nature was in +general compressed down with resolute stoicism. Mrs. Brontë, whose +sweet spirit thought invariably on the bright side, would say: "Ought I not +to be thankful that he never gave me an angry word?"</p> + +<p>In September, 1821, Mrs. Brontë died, and the lives of those quiet +children must have become quieter and lonelier still. Their father did not +require companionship, and the daughters grew out of childhood into +girlhood bereft in a singular manner of such society as would have been +natural to their age, sex and station. The children did not want society. +To small infantine gaieties they were unaccustomed. They were all in all to +each other. They had no children's books, but their eager minds "browsed +undisturbed among the wholesome pasturage of English literature," as +Charles Lamb expressed it.</p> + +<p>Their father says of their childhood that "since they could read and +write they used to invent and act little plays of their own, in which the +Duke of Wellington, Charlotte's hero, was sure to come off conqueror. When +the argument got warm I had sometimes to come in as arbitrator." Long +before Maria Brontë died, at the age of eleven, her father used to say +he could converse with her on any topic with as much freedom and pleasure +as with any grown-up person.</p> + +<p>In 1824, the four elder girls were admitted as pupils to Cowan Bridge +School for the daughters of clergymen, where they were half starved amid +the most insanitary surroundings. Helen Burns in "Jane Eyre" is as exact a +transcript of Maria Brontë as Charlotte's wonderful power of +representing character could give. In 1825 both Maria and Elizabeth died of +consumption, and Charlotte was suddenly called from school into the +responsibilities of the eldest sister in a motherless family.</p> + +<p>At the end of the year, Charlotte and Emily returned home, where +Branwell was being taught by his father, and their aunt, Miss Branwell, who +acted as housekeeper, taught them what she could. An immense amount of +manuscript dating from this period is in existence--tales, dramas, poems, +romances, written principally by Charlotte, in a hand it is almost +impossible to decipher without the aid of a magnifying glass. They make in +the whole twenty-two volumes, each volume containing from sixty to a +hundred pages, and all written in about fifteen months. The quality strikes +me as of singular merit for a girl of thirteen or fourteen.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Girlhood of Charlotte Bronte</i></h4> + + +<p>In 1831, Charlotte Brontë was a quiet, thoughtful girl, nearly +fifteen years of age, very small in figure--stunted was the word she +applied to herself--fragile, with soft, thick, brown hair, and peculiar +eyes. They were large and well shaped, their colour a reddish brown, and if +the iris was closely examined, it appeared to be composed of a great +variety of tints. The usual expression was of quiet, listening +intelligence, but now and then, on some just occasion for vivid interest or +wholesome indignation, a light would shine out as if some spiritual lamp +had been kindled which glowed behind those expressive orbs. I never saw the +like in any other human creature. The rest of her features were plain, +large, and ill-set; but you were hardly aware of the fact, for the eyes and +power of the countenance overbalanced every physical defect. The crooked +mouth and the large nose were forgotten, and the whole face arrested the +attention, and presently attracted all those whom she would herself have +cared to attract. Her hands and feet were the smallest I ever saw; when one +of her hands was placed in mine it was like the soft touch of a bird in the +middle of my palm.</p> + +<p>In January, 1831, Charlotte was sent to school again, this time as a +pupil of Miss Wooler, who lived at Roe Head, between Leeds and +Huddersfield, the surroundings being those described in "Shirley." The kind +motherly nature of Miss Wooler, and the small number of the girls, made the +establishment more like a private family than a school. Here Charlotte +formed friendships with Miss Wooler and girls attending the +school--particularly Ellen Nussey and Mary Taylor--which lasted through +life.</p> + +<p>Writing of Charlotte at this time "Mary" says the other girls "thought +her very ignorant, for she had never learned grammar at all, and very +little geography, but she would confound us by knowing things that were out +of our range altogether. She said she had never played, and could not play. +She used to draw much better and more quickly than we had seen before, and +knew much about celebrated pictures and painters. She made poetry and +drawing very interesting to me, and then I got the habit I have yet of +referring mentally to her opinion all matters of that kind, resolving to +describe such and such things to her, until I start at the recollection +that I never shall."</p> + +<p>This tribute to her influence was written eleven years after Mary had +seen Charlotte, nearly all those years having been passed by Mary at the +Antipodes.</p> + +<p>"Her idea of self improvement," continues Mary, "was to cultivate her +tastes. She always said there was enough of useful knowledge forced on us +by necessity, and that the thing most needed was to soften and refine our +minds, and she picked up every scrap of information concerning painting, +sculpture and music, as if it were gold."</p> + +<p>In spite of her unsociable habits, she was a favourite with her +schoolfellows, and an invaluable story-teller, frightening them almost out +of their lives as they lay in bed.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Her Life as a Governess</i></h4> + + +<p>After a year and a half's residence at Roe Head, beloved and respected +by all, laughed at occasionally by a few, but always to her face, Charlotte +returned home to educate her sisters, to practise household work under the +supervision of her somewhat exacting aunt, and to write long letters to her +girl friends, Mary and Ellen--Mary, the Rose Yorke, and Ellen, the Caroline +Helstone of "Shirley." Three years later she returned to Roe Head as a +teacher, in order that her brother Branwell might be placed at the Royal +Academy and her sister Emily at Roe Head. Emily Brontë, however, only +remained three months at school, her place being taken there by her younger +sister, Anne.</p> + +<p>"My sister Emily loved the moors," wrote Charlotte, explaining the +change. "Flowers brighter than the rose bloomed in the blackest of the +heath for her; out of a sullen hollow in the livid hillside her mind could +make an Eden. She found in the bleak solitude many a dear delight; and not +the least and best loved was liberty. Without it she perished. Her nature +proved here too strong for her fortitude. In this struggle her health was +quickly broken. I felt in my heart that she would die if she did not go +home, and with this conviction obtained her recall."</p> + +<p>Charlotte's own life at Miss Wooler's was a very happy one until her +health failed, and she became dispirited, and a prey to religious +despondency. During the summer holidays of 1836, all the members of the +family were occupied with thoughts of literature. Charlotte wrote to +Southey, and Branwell to Wordsworth, of their ambitions, and Southey +replied that "literature cannot be the business of a woman's life, and +ought not to be. The more she is engaged in her proper duties the less +leisure she will have for it, even as an accomplishment and recreation." To +this Charlotte meekly replied: "I trust I shall never more feel ambitious +to see my name in print."</p> + +<p>On the school being removed to Dewsbury Moor, Charlotte, whose health +and spirits had been affected by the change, and Anne returned home. "I +stayed at Dewsbury Moor," she said in a letter to Ellen Nussey, "as long as +I was able; but at length I neither could nor dare stay any longer. My life +and spirits had utterly failed me; so home I went, and the change at once +roused and soothed me."</p> + +<p>At this time Charlotte received an offer of marriage from a clergyman +having a resemblance to St. John Rivers in "Jane Eyre"--a brother of her +friend Ellen; but she refused him as she explains:</p> + +<p>"I had a kindly leaning towards him as an amiable and well-disposed man. +Yet I had not and could not have that intense attachment which would make +me willing to die for him; and if ever I marry it must be in that light of +adoration that I will regard my husband."</p> + +<p>Teaching now seemed to the three sisters to be the only way of earning +an independent livelihood, though they were not naturally fond of children. +The hieroglyphics of childhood were an unknown language to them, for they +had never been much with those younger than themselves; and they were not +as yet qualified to take charge of advanced pupils. They knew but little +French, and were not proficient in music. Still, Charlotte and Anne both +took posts as governesses, and eventually formed a plan of starting a +school on their own account, their housekeeping Aunt Branwell providing the +necessary capital. To fit them for this work Charlotte and Emily entered, +in February, 1842, the Héger Pensionnat, Brussels, and meantime Anne +came home to Haworth from her governess life. The brother, Branwell, had +now given up his idea of art, and was a clerk on the Leeds and Manchester +Railway.</p> + +<p>In Brussels, Emily was homesick as ever, the suffering and conflict +being heightened, in the words of Charlotte, "by the strong recoil of her +upright, heretic, and English spirit from the gentle Jesuitry of the +foreign and Romish system. She was never happy till she carried her +hard-won knowledge back to the remote English village, the old parsonage +house, and desolate Yorkshire hills." "We are completely isolated in the +midst of numbers. Yet I think I am never unhappy; my present life is so +delightful, so congenial to my own nature, compared with that of a +governess," was Charlotte's further description.</p> + +<p>The sisters were so successful with their study of French that Madame +Héger proposed that both should stay another half year, Charlotte to +teach English, and Emily music; but from Brussels the girls were brought +hastily home by the illness and death of their aunt, who left to each of +them independently a share of her savings--enough to enable them to make +whatever alterations were needed to turn the parsonage into a school. Emily +now stayed at home, and Charlotte (January, 1843) returned to Brussels to +teach English to Belgian pupils, under a constant sense of solitude and +depression, while she learned German. A year later she returned to Haworth, +on receiving news of the distressing conduct of her brother Branwell and +the rapid failure of her father's sight. On leaving Brussels, she took with +her a diploma certifying that she was perfectly capable of teaching the +French language, and her pupils showed for her, at parting, an affection +which she observed with grateful surprise.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Sisters' Book of Poems</i></h4> + + +<p>The attempt to secure pupils at Haworth failed. At this time the conduct +of the now dissipated brother Branwell--conduct bordering on +insanity--caused the family the most terrible anxiety; their father was +nearly blind with cataract, and Charlotte herself lived under the dread of +blindness. It was now that she paid a visit to her friends the Nusseys, at +Hathersage, in Derbyshire, the scene of the later chapters of "Jane Eyre." +On her return she found her brother dismissed from his employment, a slave +to opium, and to drink whenever he could get it, and for some time before +he died he had attacks of delirium tremens of the most frightful +character.</p> + +<p>In the course of this sad autumn of 1845 a new interest came into the +lives of the sisters through the publication, at their own expense, of +"Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell," as explained in the biographical +notice of her sisters, which Charlotte prefaced to the edition of +"Wuthering Heights" and "Agnes Grey," that was published in 1850.</p> + +<p>"One day in the autumn of 1845 I accidentally lighted on a manuscript +volume of verses in my sister Emily's handwriting. Of course I was not +surprised, knowing that she could and did write verses. I looked it over, +and then something more than surprise seized me--a deep conviction that +these were not common effusions, not at all like the poetry a woman +generally writes. I thought them condensed and terse, vigorous and genuine. +To my ear they had also a peculiar music, wild, melancholy, and elevating. +I took hours to reconcile my sister to the discovery I had made, and days +to persuade her that such poems merited publication. Meantime, my younger +sister quietly produced some of her own compositions, intimating that since +Emily's had given me pleasure I might like to look at hers. I thought that +these verses too had a sweet sincere pathos of their own. We had very early +cherished the dream of one day being authors. We agreed to arrange a small +selection of our poems, and if possible get them printed."</p> + +<p>The "Poems" obtained no sale until the authors became otherwise +known.</p> + +<p>During the summer of 1846 the three sisters made attempts to find a +publisher for a volume that was to consist of three prose tales, "Wuthering +Heights," by Emily, "Agnes Grey" by Anne, and "The Professor" by Charlotte. +Eventually the two former were accepted for a three-volume issue, though +eighteen months passed and much happened before the book was actually +circulated. Meantime, "The Professor" was plodding its way round London +through many rejections. Under these circumstances, her brother's brain +mazed and his gifts and life lost, her father's sight hanging on a thread, +her sisters in delicate health and dependent on her care, did the brave +genius begin, with steady courage, the writing of "Jane Eyre." While +refusing to publish "The Professor," Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co. +expressed their willingness to consider favourably a new work in three +volumes which "Currer Bell" informed them he was writing; and by October +16, 1847, the tale--"Jane Eyre"--was accepted, printed, and published.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--The Coming of Success</i></h4> + + +<p>The gentleman connected with the firm who first read the manuscript was +so powerfully struck by the character of the tale that he reported his +impressions in very strong terms to Mr. Smith, who appears to have been +much amused by the admiration excited. "You seem to have been so enchanted +that I do not know how to believe you," he laughingly said. But when a +second reader, in the person of a clear-headed Scotsman, not given to +enthusiasm, had taken the manuscript home in the evening, and became so +deeply interested in it as to sit up half the night to finish it, Mr. +Smith's curiosity was sufficiently excited to prompt him to read it +himself; and great as were the praises which had been bestowed upon it he +found that they did not exceed the truth. The power and fascination of the +tale itself made its merits known to the public without the kindly +fingerposts of professional criticism, and early in December the rush for +copies began.</p> + +<p>When the demand for the work had assured success, her sisters urged +Charlotte to tell their father of its publication. She accordingly went +into his study one afternoon, carrying with her a copy of the book and two +or three reviews, taking care to include a notice adverse to it, and the +following conversation took place.</p> + +<p>"Papa, I've been writing a book."</p> + +<p>"Have you, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I want you to read it."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it will try my eyes too much."</p> + +<p>"But it is not in manuscript; it is printed."</p> + +<p>"My dear, you've never thought of the expense it will be! It will be +almost sure to be a loss; for how can you get a book sold? No one knows you +or your name."</p> + +<p>"But, papa, I don't think it will be a loss. No more will you if you +will just let me read you a review or two, and tell you more about it."</p> + +<p>So she sat down and read some of the reviews to her father, and then, +giving him the copy of "Jane Eyre" that she intended for him, she left him +to read it. When he came in to tea he said: "Girls, do you know Charlotte +has been writing a book, and it is much better than likely?"</p> + +<p>Soon the whole reading world of England was in a ferment to discover the +unknown author. Even the publishers were ignorant whether "Currer Bell" was +a real or an assumed name till a flood of public opinion had lifted the +book from obscurity and had laid it high on the everlasting hills of +fame.</p> + +<p>The authorship was kept a close secret in the Brontë family, and +not even the friend who was all but a sister--Ellen Nussey--knew more about +it than the rest of the world. It was indeed through an attempt at sharp +practice by another firm that Messrs. Smith & Elder became aware of the +identity of the author with Miss Brontë. In the June of 1848, "The +Tenant of Wildfell Hall," a second novel by Anne Brontë--"Acton +Bell"--was submitted for publication to the firm which had previously +published "Wuthering Heights" and "Agnes Grey," and this firm announced the +new book in America as by the author of "Jane Eyre," although Messrs. +Smith, Elder & Co. had entered into an agreement with an American house +for the publication of "Currer Bell's" next tale. On hearing of this, the +sisters, Charlotte and Anne, set off instantly for London to prove +personally that they were two and not one; and women, not men.</p> + +<p>On reaching Mr. Smith's office, Charlotte put his own letter into his +hand as an introduction.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get this?" said he, as if he could not believe that the +two young ladies dressed in black, of slight figures and diminutive +stature, looking pleased yet agitated, could be the embodied Currer and +Acton Bell for whom curiosity had been hunting so eagerly in vain.</p> + +<p>An explanation ensued, and the publisher at once began to form plans for +the amusement of the visitors during their three days' stay in London.</p> + +<p>In September, 1848, her brother Branwell died. After the Sunday +succeeding Branwell's death, Emily Brontë never went out of doors, and +in less than three months she, too, was dead. To the last she adhered +tenaciously to her habits of independence. She would suffer no one to +assist her. On the day of her death she arose, dressed herself, and tried +to take up her sewing.</p> + +<p>Anne Brontë, too, drooped and sickened from this time in a similar +consumption, and on May 28, 1849, died peacefully at Scarborough, +pathetically appealing to Charlotte with her ebbing breath: "Take courage, +Charlotte; take courage."</p> + + +<h4><i>VI.--Charlotte Brontë's Closing Years</i></h4> + + +<p>"Shirley" had been begun soon after the publication of "Jane Eyre." +Shirley herself is Charlotte's representation of Emily as she would have +been if placed in health and prosperity. It was published five months after +Anne's death. The reviews, Charlotte admitted, were "superb."</p> + +<p>Visits to London made Miss Brontë acquainted with many of the +literary celebrities of the day, including Thackeray and Miss Martineau. In +Yorkshire her success caused great excitement. She tells herself how +"Martha came in yesterday puffing and blowing, and much excited. 'Please, +ma'am, you've been and written two books--the grandest books that ever was +seen. They are going to have a meeting at the Mechanics' Institute to +settle about ordering them.' When they got the volumes at the Mechanics' +Institute, all the members wanted them. They cast lots, and whoever got a +volume was allowed to keep it two days, and was to be fined a shilling per +diem for longer detention."</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1850, Charlotte Brontë paid another visit to +London, and later to Scotland, where she found Edinburgh "compared to +London like a vivid page of history compared to a dull treatise on +political economy; as a lyric, brief, bright, clean, and vital as a flash +of lightning, compared to a great rumbling, rambling, heavy epic."</p> + +<p>She was in London again in 1851, and was dismayed by the attempts to +lionise her. "Villette," written in a constant fight against ill-health, +was published in 1853, and was received with one burst of acclamation. This +brought to a close the publication of Charlotte's life-time.</p> + +<p>The personal interest of the two last years of Charlotte Brontë's +life centres on her relations with her father's curate, the Rev. A.B. +Nicholls. In 1853, he asked her hand in marriage. He was the fourth man who +had ventured on the same proposal. Her father disapproved, and Mr. Nicholls +resigned his curacy. Next year, however, her father relented. Mr. Nicholls +again took up the curacy, and the marriage was celebrated on June 29, 1854. +Henceforward the doors of home are closed upon her married life.</p> + +<p>On March 31, 1855, she died before she had attained to motherhood, her +last recorded words to her husband being: "We have been so happy." Her life +appeals to that large and solemn public who know how to admire generously +extraordinary genius, and how to reverence all noble virtue.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="EDWARD_GIBBON"></a>EDWARD GIBBON</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Memoirs2"></a>Memoirs</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Gibbon's autobiography was published in 1796, two years +after his death, by his friend, Lord Sheffield, under the title +"Miscellaneous Works of Edward Gibbon, Esq., with Memoirs of His Life and +Writings, Composed by Himself." "After completing his history," says Mr. +Birrell, "Gibbon had but one thing left him to do in order to discharge his +duty to the universe. He had written a magnificent history of the Roman +Empire; it remained to write the history of the historian. It is a most +studied performance, and may be boldly pronounced perfect. It is our best, +and best known, autobiography." That the writing was studied is shown by +the fact that six different sketches were left in Gibbon's handwriting, and +from all these the published memoirs were selected and put together. The +memoir was briefly completed by Lord Sheffield. Bagehot described the book +as "the most imposing of domestic narratives." Truly, it was impossible for +Gibbon to doff his dignity, but through the cadenced formality of his style +the reader can detect a happy candour, careful sincerity, complacent +temper, and a loyalty to friendship that recommend the man as truly as the +writer. (See also HISTORY.) </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Birth and Education</i></h4> + + +<p>I was born at Putney, in the county of Surrey, April 27, in the year +1737, the first child of the marriage of Edward Gibbon, Esq., and Jane +Porten.</p> + +<p>From my birth I have enjoyed the right of primogeniture; but I was +succeeded by five brothers and one sister, all of whom were snatched away +in their infancy. So feeble was my constitution, so precarious my life, +that in the baptism of each of my brothers my father's prudence +successively repeated my Christian name of Edward, that, in the case of the +departure of the eldest son, this patronymic appellation might be still +perpetuated in the family.</p> + +<p>To preserve and to rear so frail a being the most tender assiduity was +scarcely sufficient, and my mother's attention was somewhat diverted by an +exclusive passion for her husband and by the dissipation of the world; but +the maternal office was supplied by my aunt, Mrs. Catherine Porten, at +whose name I feel a tear of gratitude trickling down my cheek.</p> + +<p>After this instruction at home, I was delivered at the age of seven into +the hands of Mr. John Kirkby, who exercised for about eighteen months the +office of my domestic tutor, enlarged my knowledge of arithmetic, and left +me a clear impression of the English and Latin rudiments. In my ninth year, +in a lucid interval of comparative health, I was sent to a school of about +seventy boys at Kingston-upon-Thames, and there, by the common methods of +discipline, at the expense of many tears and some blood, purchased a +knowledge of the Latin syntax. After a nominal residence at Kingston of +nearly two years, I was finally recalled by my mother's death. My poor +father was inconsolable, and he renounced the tumult of London, and buried +himself in the rustic solitude of Buriton; but as far back as I can +remember, the house of my maternal grandfather, near Putney Bridge, appears +in the light of my proper and native home, and that excellent woman, Mrs. +Catherine Porten, was the true mother of my mind, as well as of my +health.</p> + +<p>At this time my father was too easily content with such teachers as the +different places of my residence could supply, and it might now be +apprehended that I should continue for life an illiterate cripple; but as I +approached my sixteenth year, nature displayed in my favour her mysterious +energies: my constitution was fortified and fixed, and my disorders most +wonderfully vanished.</p> + +<p>Without preparation or delay, my father carried me to Oxford, and I was +matriculated in the university as a gentleman commoner of Magdalen College +before I had accomplished the fifteenth year of my age. As often as I was +tolerably exempt from danger and pain, reading, free desultory reading, had +been the employment and comfort of my solitary hours, and I was allowed, +without control or advice, to gratify the wanderings of an unripe taste. My +indiscriminate appetite subsided by degrees into the historic line; and I +arrived at Oxford with a stock of erudition that might have puzzled a +doctor, and a degree of ignorance of which a schoolboy would have been +ashamed.</p> + +<p>The happiness of boyish years I have never known, and that time I have +never regretted. To the university of Oxford I acknowledge no obligation. I +spent fourteen months at Magdalen College, and they proved the fourteen +months the most idle and profitless of my whole life. The sum of my +improvement there is confined to three or four Latin plays. It might at +least be expected that an ecclesiastical school should inculcate the +orthodox principles of religion. But our venerable mother had contrived to +unite the opposite extremes of bigotry and indifference. The blind activity +of idleness urged me to advance without armour into the dangerous mazes of +controversy, and at the age of sixteen I bewildered myself in the errors of +the church of Rome. Translations of two famous works of Bossuet achieved my +conversion, and surely I fell by a noble hand.</p> + +<p>No sooner had I settled my new religion than I resolved to profess +myself a Catholic, and on June 8, 1753, I solemnly abjured the errors of +heresy. An elaborate controversial epistle, addressed to my father, +announced and justified the step which I had taken. My father was neither a +bigot nor a philosopher, but his affection deplored the loss of an only +son, and his good sense was astonished at my departure from the religion of +my country. In the first sally of passion, he divulged a secret which +prudence might have suppressed, and the gates of Magdalen College were for +ever shut against my return.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--A Happy Exile</i></h4> + + +<p>It was necessary for my father to form a new plan of education, and +effect the cure of my spiritual malady. After much debate it was determined +to fix me for some years at Lausanne, in Switzerland, under the roof and +tuition of M. Pavilliard, a Calvinist minister. Suddenly cast on a foreign +land, I found myself deprived of the use of speech and hearing, incapable +of asking or answering a question in the common intercourse of life. Such +was my first introduction to Lausanne, a place where I spent nearly five +years with pleasure and profit.</p> + +<p>This seclusion from English society was attended with the most solid +benefits. Before I was recalled home, French, in which I spontaneously +thought, was more familiar than English to my ear, my tongue, and my pen. +My awkward timidity was polished and emboldened; M. Pavilliard gently led +me from a blind and undistinguishing love of reading into the path of +instruction. He was not unmindful that his first task was to reclaim me +from the errors of popery, and I am willing to allow him a handsome share +of the honour of my conversion, though it was principally effected by my +private reflections.</p> + +<p>It was now that I regretted the early years which had been wasted in +sickness or idleness or mere idle reading, and I determined to supply this +defect. My various reading I now digested, according to the precept and +model of Mr. Locke, into a large commonplace book--a practice, however, +which I do not strenuously recommend. I much question whether the benefits +of this laborious method are adequate to the waste of time, and I must +agree with Dr. Johnson that what is twice read is commonly better +remembered than what is transcribed.</p> + +<p>I hesitate from the apprehension of ridicule when I approach the +delicate subject of my early love. I need not blush at recollecting the +object of my choice, and, though my love was disappointed of success, I am +rather proud that I was once capable of feeling such a pure and exalted +sentiment. The personal attractions of Mademoiselle Curchod were +embellished by the virtues and talents of the mind. Her father lived +content with a small salary and laborious duty in the obscure lot of +minister of Crassy. In the solitude of a sequestered village he bestowed a +liberal, and even learned, education on his only daughter. In her short +visit to Lausanne, the wit, the beauty, the erudition of Mademoiselle +Curchod were the theme of universal applause. The report of such a prodigy +awakened my curiosity; I saw and loved. At Crassy and Lausanne I indulged +my dream of felicity, but on my return to England I discovered that my +father would not hear of this alliance. After a painful struggle I yielded. +I sighed as a lover, I obeyed as a son; my wound was insensibly healed by +time, absence, and the habits of a new life.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--To England and Authorship</i></h4> + + +<p>In the spring of the year 1758 my father signified his permission that I +should immediately return home. The whole term of my absence from England +was four years ten months and fifteen days. The only person in England whom +I was impatient to see was my Aunt Porten, the affectionate guardian of my +tender years. It was not without some awe and apprehension that I +approached my father; but he received me as a man and a friend. All +constraint was banished at our first interview, and afterwards we continued +on the same terms of easy and equal politeness.</p> + +<p>Of the next two years, I passed about nine months in London, and the +rest in the country. My progress in the English world was in general left +to my own efforts, and those efforts were languid and slow. But my love of +knowledge was inflamed and gratified by the command of books, and from the +slender beginning in my father's study I have gradually formed a numerous +and select library, the foundation of my works, and the best comfort of my +life both at home and abroad. In this place I may allow myself to observe +that I have never bought a book from a motive of ostentation, and that +every volume before it was deposited on the shelf was either read or +sufficiently examined.</p> + +<p>The design of my first work, the "Essay on the Study of Literature," was +suggested by a refinement of vanity--the desire of justifying and praising +the object of a favourite pursuit. I was ambitious of proving that all the +faculties of the mind may be exercised and displayed by the study of +ancient literature.</p> + +<p>My father fondly believed that the proof of some literary talents might +introduce me to public notice. The work was printed and published under the +title "Essai sur l'Etude de la Littérature." It is not surprising +that a work of which the style and sentiments were so totally foreign +should have been more successful abroad than at home. I was delighted by +the warm commendations and flattering predictions of the journals of France +and Holland. In England it was received with cold indifference, little +read, and speedily forgotten. A small impression was slowly dispersed.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Soldiering and Travel</i></h4> + + +<p>An active scene now follows which bears no affinity to any other period +of my studious and social life. On June 12, 1759, my father and I received +our commissions as major and captain in the Hampshire regiment of militia, +and during two and a half years were condemned to a wandering life of +military servitude. My principal obligation to the militia was the making +me an Englishman and a soldier. In this peaceful service I imbibed the +rudiments of the language and science of tactics, which opened a new field +of study and observation. The discipline and evolutions of a modern +battalion gave me a clearer notion of the phalanx and the legion; and the +captain of the Hampshire Grenadiers--the reader may smile--has not been +useless to the historian of the Roman Empire.</p> + +<p>I was detained above four years by my rash engagement in the militia. I +eagerly grasped the first moments of freedom; and such was my diligence +that on my father consenting to a term of foreign travel, I reached Paris +only thirty-six hours after the disbanding of the militia. Between my stay +of three months and a half in Paris and a visit to Italy, I interposed some +months of tranquil simplicity at Lausanne. My old friends of both sexes +hailed my voluntary return--the most genuine proof of my attachment. The +public libraries of Lausanne and Geneva liberally supplied me with books, +from which I armed myself for my Italian journey. On this tour I was +agreeably employed for more than a year. Turin, Milan, Genoa, Parma, +Modena, and Florence were visited, and here I first acknowledged, at the +feet of the Venus of Medici, that the chisel may dispute the preeminence +with the pencil, a truth in the fine arts which cannot on this side of the +Alps be felt or understood.</p> + +<p>After leaving Florence, I passed through Pisa, Leghorn, and Sienna to +Rome. My temper is not very susceptible to enthusiasm; and the enthusiasm +which I do not feel, I have ever scorned to affect. But, at the distance of +twenty-five years, I can neither forget nor express the strong emotions +which agitated my mind as I first approached and entered the Eternal City. +After a sleepless night, I trod, with a lofty step, the ruins of the Forum; +each memorable spot, where Romulus stood, or Tully spoke, or Cæsar +fell, was at once present to my eye; and several days of intoxication were +lost, or enjoyed, before I could descend to a cool and minute +observation.</p> + +<p>It was in Rome, on October 15, 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of +the Capitol, while the bare-footed friars were singing vespers in the +Temple of Jupiter, that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the +city first started to my mind. But my original plan was circumscribed to +the decay of the city rather than the empire; and though my reading and +reflections began to point towards that object, some years elapsed, and +several avocations intervened, before I was seriously engaged in the +execution of that laborious work.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--History and Politics</i></h4> + + +<p>The five years and a half between my return from my travels and my +father's death are the portion of my life which I passed with the least +enjoyment, and which I remember with the least satisfaction. In the fifteen +years between my "Essay on the Study of Literature" and the first volume of +the "Decline and Fall," a criticism of Warburton on Virgil and some +articles in "Mémoires Littéraires de la Grande Bretagne" were +my sole publications. In November, 1770, my father sank into the grave in +the sixty-fourth year of his age. As soon as I had paid the last solemn +duties to my father, and obtained from time and reason a tolerable +composure of mind, I began to form the plan of an independent life most +adapted to my circumstances and inclination. I had now attained the first +of earthly blessings--independence. I was absolute master of my hours and +actions; and no sooner was I settled in my house and library than I +undertook the composition of the first volume of my history. Many +experiments were made before I could hit the middle tone between a dull +chronicle and a rhetorical declamation; three times did I compose the first +chapter, and twice the second and third, before I was tolerably satisfied +with their effect. In the remainder of the way I advanced with a more equal +and easy pace.</p> + +<p>By the friendship of Mr. (now Lord) Eliot, who had married my first +cousin, I was returned member of parliament for the borough of Liskeard. I +took my seat at the beginning of the memorable contest between Great +Britain and America, and supported, with many a sincere and silent vote, +the rights, though not, perhaps, the interest, of the Mother Country. After +a fleeting, illusive hope, prudence condemned me to acquiesce in the humble +station of a mute. But I listened to the attack and defence of eloquence +and reason; I had a near prospect of the characters, views, and passions of +the first men of the age. The eight sessions that I sat in parliament were +a school of civil prudence, the first and most essential virtue of an +historian.</p> + +<p>The first volume of my history, which had been somewhat delayed by the +novelty and tumult of a first session, was now ready for the press. During +the awful interval of awaited publication, I was neither elated by the +ambition of fame nor depressed by the apprehension of contempt. My +diligence and accuracy were attested by my own conscience. I likewise +flattered myself that an age of light and liberty would receive without +scandal an inquiry into the human causes of progress of Christianity.</p> + +<p>I am at a loss how to describe the success of the work without betraying +the vanity of the writer. The first impression was exhausted in a few days; +a second and third edition were scarcely adequate to the demand. My book +was on every table; nor was the general voice disturbed by the barking of +any profane critic. Let me frankly own that I was startled at the first +discharge of ecclesiastical ordnance; but I soon discovered that this empty +noise was mischievous only in intention, and every feeling of indignation +has long since subsided.</p> + +<p>Nearly two years elapsed between the publication of my first and the +commencement of my second volume. The second and third volumes of the +"Decline and Fall" insensibly rose in sale and reputation to a level with +the first volume. So flexible is the title of my history that the final era +might be fixed at my own choice, and I long hesitated whether I should be +content with the three volumes, the "Fall of the Western Empire." The +tumult of London and attendance at parliament were now grown irksome, and +when I had finished the fourth volume, excepting the last chapter, I sought +a retreat on the banks of the Leman Lake.</p> + + +<h4><i>VI.--A Quiet Consummation</i></h4> + + +<p>My transmigration from London to Lausanne could not be effected without +interrupting the course of my historical labours, and a full twelvemonth +was lost before I could resume the thread of regular and daily industry. In +the fifth and sixth volumes the revolutions of the empire and the world are +most rapid, various, and instructive. It was not till after many designs +and many trials that I preferred the method of grouping my picture by +nations; and the seeming neglect of chronological order is surely +compensated by the superior merits of interest and perspicacity. I was now +straining for the goal, and in the last winter many evenings were borrowed +from the social pleasures of Lausanne.</p> + +<p>I have presumed to mark the moment of conception; I shall now +commemorate the hour of my final deliverance. It was on the night of June +27, 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last +lines of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my +pen, I took several turns in a covered walk of acacias, which commands a +prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was +temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected +from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first +emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and perhaps the +establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober +melancholy was spread over my mind by the idea that I had taken an +everlasting leave of an agreeable companion, and that whatsoever might be +the future fate of my history, the life of the historian must be short and +precarious.</p> + +<p>The day of publication of my three last volumes coincided with the +fifty-first anniversary of my own birthday. The conclusion of my work was +generally read and variously judged. Upon the whole, the history of "The +Decline and Fall" seems to have struck root both at home and abroad.</p> + +<p>When I contemplate the common lot of mortality, I must acknowledge that +I have drawn a high prize in the lottery of life. I am endowed with a +cheerful temper. The love of study, a passion which derives fresh vigour +from enjoyment, supplies each day, each hour, with a perpetual source of +independent and rational pleasure; and I am not sensible of any decay of +the mental faculties. I am disgusted with the affectation of men of letters +who complain that they have renounced a substance for a shadow. My own +experience, at least, has taught me a very different lesson. Twenty happy +years have been animated by the labour of my history; and its success has +given me a name, a rank, a character in the world to which I should not +otherwise have been entitled.</p> + +<p>The present is a fleeting moment, the past is no more; and our prospect +of futurity is dark and doubtful I shall soon enter into the period which +was selected by the judgment and experience of the sage Fontenelle as the +most agreeable of his long life. I am far more inclined to embrace than to +dispute this comfortable doctrine. I will not suppose any premature decay +of the mind or body; but I must reluctantly observe that two causes, the +abbreviation of time and the failure of hope, will always tinge with a +browner shade the evening of life.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="GOETHE"></a>GOETHE</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Letters_to_Zelter"></a>Letters to Zelter</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> The correspondence of Goethe with his friends, especially +his voluminous letters to his friend Zelter, will always be resorted to by +readers who wish for intimate knowledge of the innermost processes of the +great poet's mind. Zelter was himself an extraordinary man. By trade he was +a stonemason, but he became a skilled musical amateur, and a most versatile +and entertaining critic. To him fell the remarkable distinction of becoming +the tutor of that musical genius, Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, while he +also acquired the glory of being "the restorer of Bach to the Germans." +Like Eckermann, the other beloved friend of Goethe, he possessed the power +of eliciting the great poet-philosopher's dicta on all imaginable topics. +Zelter wrote to Goethe on anything and everything, trivial and otherwise, +but his letters never failed to educe strains of the most illuminating +comment. The "Letters to Zelter" were published in Berlin in 1833, and the +following epitome is prepared from the German text. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Art Greater than the Beauty of Art</i></h4> + + +<p>Lauchstadt, <i>September</i> 1, 1805. As we are convinced that he who +studies the intellectual world, and perceives the beauty of the true +intellect, can also realise the Father of them, who is supreme above all +sense, let us therefore seek as best we may to achieve insight into the +beauty of the mind and of the world, and to express it for ourselves.</p> + +<p>Suppose, then, two blocks of stone, side by side, one rough and +unshaped, the other artistically shaped into a statue. To you the stone +worked into a beautiful figure appears lovely not because it is stone, but +because of the form which art has given it. But the material had not such a +form, for this was in the mind of the artist before it reached the stone. +Of course, art is greater than that which it produces. Art is greater than +the beauty of art. The motive power must be greater than the result. For as +the form gains extension by advancing into the material, yet by that very +process it becomes weaker than that which remains whole. For that which +endures removal from itself steps aside from itself--strength from +strength, warmth from warmth, force from force, so also beauty from +beauty.</p> + +<p>Should anyone disparage the arts because they imitate nature, let him +note that nature also imitates much besides; and, further, that the arts do +not precisely imitate what we see but go back to that rational element of +which nature consists, and according to which she acts.</p> + +<p><i>Carlsbad, June 22</i>, 1808. It is an extraordinary fact that man in +himself, so far as he avails himself of his sound mind, is the greatest and +most precise physical apparatus that can be. And it is in fact the greatest +evil of the newer physics that experiments are, as it were, separated from +man himself, so that nature is recognised only in what is ascertained by +artificial instruments. It is exactly so with calculation. Much is true +which cannot be computed, just as much can never be experimentally +demonstrated.</p> + +<p>Man, however, stands so high that that which otherwise admits of no +representation is represented in him. What, then, is a string and all its +mechanical division compared with the ear of the musician? Indeed, it may +be said what are the elementary phenomena of nature compared with man, who +must first master and modify them all in order to assimilate them to +himself?</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Music and Musicians</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Weimar, November</i> 16, 1816. I send you a few words with reference +to your proposal to write a cantata for the Reformation Jubilee. It might +best be contrived after the method of Handel's "Messiah," into which you +have so deeply penetrated.</p> + +<p>As the main idea of Lutheranism rests on a very excellent foundation, it +affords a fine opportunity both for poetical and also for musical +treatment. Now, this basis rests on the decided contrast between the law +and the Gospel, and secondly on the accommodation of these two extremes. +And now, if in order to attain a higher standpoint we substitute for those +two words the terms "necessity" and "freedom," with their synonyms, their +remoteness and proximity, you see clearly that everything interesting to +mankind is contained in this circle.</p> + +<p>And thus Luther perceives in the Old and New Testaments the symbol of +the great and ever-recurring world-order. On the one hand, the law, +striving after love; on the other, love, striving back towards the law, and +fulfilling it, though not of its own power and strength, but through faith; +and that, too, by exclusive faith in the all-powerful Messiah proclaimed to +all.</p> + +<p>Thus, briefly, are we convinced that Lutheranism can never be united +with the Papacy, but that it does not contradict pure reason, so soon as +reason decides to regard the Bible as the mirror of the world; which +certainly should not be difficult. To express these ideas in a poem adapted +to music, I should begin with the thunder on Mount Sinai, with the <i>Thou +shalt</i>! and conclude with the resurrection of Christ, and the <i>Thou +wilt</i>!</p> + +<p>This may be the place to add a few words about Catholicism. Soon after +its origin and promulgation, the Christian religion, through rational and +irrational heresies, lost its original purity. But as it was called on to +check barbarous nations, harsh methods were needed for the service, not +doctrine. The one Mediator between God and man was not enough, as we all +know. Thus arose a species of pagan Judaism, sustained even to this day. +This had to be revolutionised entirely in the minds of men, therefore +Lutheranism depends solely on the Bible. Luther's behaviour is no secret, +and now that we are going to commemorate him, we cannot do so in the right +sense unless we acknowledge his merit, and represent what he accomplished +for his own age and for posterity. This celebration should be so arranged +that every fair-minded Catholic should be able to participate in it. The +Weimar friends of art have already prepared their designs for the monument. +We make no secret of the matter, and at all events hope to contribute our +share.</p> + +<p><i>Jena, February</i> 16, 1818. You know Jena too little for it to mean +anything to you when I say that on the right bank of the Saale, near the +Camsdorf bridge, above the ice-laden water rushing through the arches, I +have occupied a tower which has attracted me and my friends for years. Here +I pass the happiest hours of the day, looking out on the river, bridge, +gravel walks, meadows, gardens, and hills, famous in war, rising beyond. At +sunset I return to town.</p> + +<p>In observing atmospheric changes I endeavour to interweave cloud-forms +and sky-tints with words and images. But as all this, except for the noise +of wind and water, runs off without a sound, I really need some inner +harmony to keep my ear in tune; and this is only possible by my confidence +in you and in what you do and value. Therefore, I send you only a few +fervent prayers as branches from my paradise. If you can but distil them in +your hot element, then the beverage can be swallowed comfortably, and the +heathen will be made whole. Apocalypse, last chapter, and the second +verse.</p> + +<p><i>Vienna, July</i> 27. Pyrotechnical displays seem to me the only +pleasure in which the Austrians are willing to dispense with their music, +which here persecutes us in every direction. In Carlsbad a musician +declared to me that music as a profession was a sour crust. I replied that +the musicians were better off than the visitors. "How so?" asked he. Said +I, "Surely they can eat without music."</p> + +<p>The good man went away ashamed, and I felt sorry for him, though my +remark was quite in place, for it is really cruel in this manner to torture +patients and convalescents. I can, indeed, endure much, but when, after +coming from the opera, I sit down to supper, and am annoyed instantly by +the strains of a harp or a singer, jarring with what I have been hearing, +it is too much; and, wretch that I am, I am forgetting that this scribble +is also too much. So farewell. God bless you!</p> + +<p><i>Vienna, July</i> 29, 1819. Beethoven, whom I should have liked to see +once more in this life, lives somewhere in this country, but nobody can +tell me where. I wanted to write to him, but I am told he is almost +unapproachable, as he is almost without hearing. Perhaps it is better that +we should remain as we are, for it might make me cross to find him +cross.</p> + +<p>Much is thought of music here, and this in contrast to Italy, which +reckons itself the "only saving Church." But the people here are really +deeply cultured in music. It is true that they are pleased with everything, +but only the best music survives. They listen gladly to a mediocre opera +which is well cast; but a first-class work, even if not given in the best +style, remains permanently with them.</p> + +<p>Beethoven is extolled to the heavens, because he toils strenuously and +is still alive. But it is Haydn who presents to them their national humour, +like a pure fountain unmingled with any other stream, and it is he who +lives among them, because he belongs to them. They seem each day to forget +him, and each day he rises to life again among them.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--"Poetry and Truth"</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Weimar, March</i> 29, 1827. The completion of a work of art in itself +is the eternal, indispensable requisite. Aristotle, who had perfection +before him, must have thought of the effect. What a pity! Were I yet, in +these peaceful times, possessed of my youthful energies, I would surrender +myself entirely to the study of Greek, in spite of all the difficulties of +which I am conscious. Nature and Aristotle would be my aim. We can form no +idea of all that this man perceived, saw, noticed, observed; but certainly +in his explanations he was over-hasty.</p> + +<p>But is it not just the same with us to-day? Experience does not fail us, +but we lack serenity of mind, whereby alone experience becomes clear, true, +lasting, and useful. Look at the theory of light and colour as interpreted +before my very eyes by Professor Fries of Jena. It is a series of +superficial conclusions, such as expositors and theorists have been guilty +of for more than a century. I care to say nothing more in public about +this; but write it I will. Some truthful mind will one day grasp it.</p> + +<p><i>Weimar, April</i> 18, 1827. Madame Catalini has scented out a few of +our extra groschen, and I begrudge her them. Too much is too much! She +makes no preparation for leaving us, for she has still to ring the changes +on a couple of old-new transmogrified airs, which she might just as well +grind out gratis. After all, what are two thousand of our thalers, when we +get "God save the King" into the bargain?</p> + +<p>It is truly a pity. What a voice! A golden dish with common mushrooms in +it! And we--one almost swears at oneself--to admire what is execrable! It +is incredible! An unreasoning beast would mourn at it. It is an actually +impossible state of things. An Italian turkey-hen comes to Germany, where +are academies and high schools, and old students and young professors sit +listening while she sings in English the airs of the German Handel. What a +disgrace if that is to be reckoned an honour! In the heart of Germany, +too!</p> + +<p><i>Weimar, December</i> 25, 1829. Lately by accident I fell in with "The +Vicar of Wakefield" and felt constrained to read it again from beginning to +end, impelled not a little by the lively consciousness of all that I have +owed to the author for the last seventy years. It would not be possible to +estimate the influence of Goldsmith and Sterne, exercised on me just at the +chief point of my development. This high, benevolent irony, this gentleness +to all opposition, this equanimity under every change, and whatever else +all the kindred virtues may be called--such things were a most admirable +training for me, and surely these are the sentiments which, in the end, +lead us back from all the mistaken paths of life. By the way, it is strange +that Yorick should incline rather to that which has no form, while +Goldsmith is all form, as I myself aspired to be when the worthy Germans +had convinced themselves that the peculiarity of true humour is to have no +form.</p> + +<p><i>Weimar, February</i> 15, 1830. As to the title, "Poetry and Truth," +of my autobiography, it is certainly somewhat paradoxical. I adopted it +because the public always cherishes doubt as to the truth of such +biographical attempts. My sincere effort was to express the genuine truth +which had prevailed throughout my life. Does not the most ordinary +chronicle necessarily embody something of the spirit of the time in which +it was written? Will not the fourteenth century hand down the tradition of +a comet more ominously than the nineteenth? Nay, in the same town you will +hear one version of an incident in the morning, and another in the +evening.</p> + +<p>All that belongs to the narrator and the narrative I included under the +word <i>Dichtung</i> (poetry), so that I could for my own purpose avail +myself of the truth of which I was conscious. In every history, even if it +be diplomatically written, we always see the nation, the party of the +writer, peering through. How different is the accent in which the French +describe English history from that of the English themselves!</p> + +<p>Remember that with every breath we draw, an ethereal stream of Lethe +runs through our whole being, so that we have but a partial recollection of +our joys, and scarcely any of our sorrows. I have always known how to +value, and use, this gift of God.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Birth of "Iphigenia"</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Weimar, March</i> 31, 1831. I have received a delightful letter from +Mendelssohn, dated Rome, March 5, which gives the most transparent picture +of that rare young man. About him we need cherish no further care. The fine +swimming-jacket of his genius will carry him safely through the waves and +surf of the dreaded barbarism.</p> + +<p>Now, you well remember that I have always passionately adopted the cause +of the minor third, and was angry that you theoretical cheap-jacks would +not allow it to be a <i>donum naturæ</i>. Certainly a wire or piece +of cat-gut is not so precious that nature should exclusively confide to it +her harmonies. Man is worth more, and nature has given him the minor third, +to enable him to express with cordial delight to himself that which he +cannot name, and that for which he longs.</p> + +<p><i>Weimar, November</i> 23, 1831. To begin with, let me tell you that I +have retreated into my cloister cell, where the sun, which is just now +rising, shines horizontally into my room, and does not leave me till he +sets, so that he is often uncomfortably importunate--so much so that for a +time I really have to shut him out.</p> + +<p>Further, I have to mention that a new edition of the "Iphigenia in +Aulis" of Euripides has once more turned my attention to that incomparable +Greek poet. Of course, his great and unique talent excited my admiration as +of old, but what has now mainly attracted me is the element, as boundless +as it is potent, in which he moves.</p> + +<p>Among the Greek localities and their mass of primeval, mythological +legends, he sails and swims, like a cannon-ball on a quick-silver sea, and +cannot sink, even if he wished. Everything is ready to his hand--subject +matter, contents, circumstances, relations. He has only to set to work in +order to bring forward his subjects and characters in the simplest way, or +to render the most complicated limitations even more complex, and then +finally and symmetrically, to our complete satisfaction, either to unravel +or cut the knot.</p> + +<p>I shall not quit him all this winter. We have translations enough which +will warrant our presumption in looking into the original. When the sun +shines into my warm room, and I am aided by the stores of knowledge +acquired in days long gone by, I shall, at any rate, fare better than I +should, at this moment, among the newly discovered ruins of Messene and +Megalopolis.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Poetry_and_Truth_from_My_Own_Life"></a>Poetry and Truth from +My Own Life</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> As "Werther" and "Wilhelm Meister" belong to the earlier +and to the middle periods of Goethe's literary activity, so the following +selections fall naturally into the last division of his life. The death of +Schiller in 1805 had given a blow to his affections which even his warm +relationship with other friends could not replace, and hereafter he begins +to concentrate more and more upon himself to the completion of those works +which he had had in mind and preparation through so many years, the +greatest of which was to be the "Faust." In "Poetry and Truth from My Own +Life," which appeared in 1811-14, he was actuated by the desire of +supplying some kind of a key to the collected edition of his works that had +been published in 1808; and whatever faults, or errors, it may contain as a +history, as a piece of writing it is finely characteristic of the ease and +simplicity of his later style. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Birth and Childhood</i></h4> + + +<p>On August 28, 1749, at midday, I came into the world at +Frankfort-on-Maine. Our house was situated in a street called the +Stag-Ditch. Formerly the street had been a ditch, in which stags were kept. +On the second floor of the dwelling was a room called the garden-room, +because there they had endeavoured to supply the want of a garden by means +of a few plants placed before a window. As I grew older, it was there that +I made my somewhat sentimental retreat, for from thence might be viewed a +beautiful and fertile plain.</p> + +<p>When I became acquainted with my native city, I loved more than anything +else to promenade on the great bridge over the Maine. Its length, its +firmness, and fine aspect rendered it a notable structure. And one liked to +lose oneself in the old trading town, particularly on market days, among +the crowd collected about the church of St. Bartholomew. The Römerberg +was a most delightful place for walking.</p> + +<p>My father had prospered in his own career tolerably according to his +wishes; I was to follow the same course, only more easily and much further. +He had passed his youth in the Coburg Gymnasium, which stood as one of the +first among German educational institutions. He had there laid a good +foundation, and had subsequently taken his degree at Giessen. He prized my +natural endowments the more because he was himself wanting in them, for he +had acquired everything simply by means of diligence and pertinacity.</p> + +<p>During my childhood the Frankforters passed a series of prosperous +years, but scarcely, on August 28, 1756, had I completed my seventh year, +when that world-renowned war broke out, which was also to exert great +influence upon the next seven years of my life. Frederick II. of Prussia +had fallen upon Saxony with 60,000 men. The world immediately split into +two parties, and our family was an image of the great whole. My grandfather +took the Austrian side, with some of his daughters and sons-in-law; my +father leaned towards Prussia, with the other and smaller half of the +family; and I also was a Prussian in my views, for the personal character +of the great king worked on our hearts.</p> + +<p>As the eldest grandson and godchild, I dined every Sunday with my +grandparents, and the event was always the most delightful experience of +the week. But now I relished no morsel that I tasted, because I was +compelled to listen to the most horrible slanders of my hero. That parties +existed had never entered into my conceptions. I trace here the germ of +that disregard and even disdain of the public which clung to me for a whole +period of my life, and only in later days was brought within bounds by +insight and cultivation. We continued to tease each other till the +occupation of Frankfort by the French, some years afterwards, brought real +inconvenience to our homes.</p> + +<p>The New Year's Day of 1759 approached, as desirable and pleasant to us +children as any preceding one, but full of import and foreboding to older +persons. To the passage of French troops the people had certainly become +accustomed; but they marched through the city in greater masses on this +day, and on January 2 the troops remained and bivouacked in the streets +till lodgings were provided for them by regular billeting.</p> + +<p>Siding as my father did with the Prussians, he was now to find himself +besieged in his own chambers by the French. This was, according to his way +of thinking, the greatest misfortune that could happen to him. Yet, could +he have taken the matter more easily, he might have saved himself and us +many sad hours, for he spoke French well, and it was the Count Thorane, the +king's lieutenant, who was quartered on us. That officer behaved himself in +a most exemplary manner, and if it had been possible to cheer my father, +this altered state of things would have caused little inconvenience.</p> + +<p>During this French occupation I made great progress with the French +language. But the chief profit was that which I derived from the theatre, +for which my grandfather had given me a free ticket. I saw many French +comedies acted, and became friendly with some of the young people connected +with the stage. From the first day of the military occupation there was no +lack of diversion; plays and balls, parades and marches constantly +attracted our attention.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--A Romantic Episode</i></h4> + + +<p>After the French occupation we children could not fail to feel as if the +house were deserted. But new lodgers came in, Chancery-Director Moritz and +his family being received in this capacity. They were quiet and gentle, and +peace and stillness reigned. About this time a long-debated project for +giving us lessons in music was carried into effect. It was settled that we +should learn the harpsichord. And as we also received lessons from a +drawing-master, the way to two arts was thus early enough opened to me.</p> + +<p>English was also added to my studies; and as on my own account I soon +felt that I ought to know Hebrew, my father allowed the rector of our +gymnasium to give me private lessons. I studied the Old Testament no longer +in Luther's translation, but in the literal version of Schmid. I also paid +great attention to sermons at church, and wrote out many that I heard, +doing this in a style that greatly gratified my father.</p> + +<p>At this time my first romantic experience occurred. I fell under the +enchantment of Gretchen, a beautiful girl who waited on me and some +comrades at a restaurant. The form of that girl followed me from that +moment on every path. At church, during the long Protestant service, I +gazed my fill at her. I wrote her love-letters, which she did not resent. +The first propensities to love in an uncorrupted youth take altogether a +spiritual direction. Nature seems to desire that one sex may by the senses +perceive goodness and beauty in the other. And thus to me, by the sight of +this girl, a new world of the beautiful and excellent had arisen. But my +friendship for this maiden being discovered by my father, a family +disturbance ensued which plunged me into illness. I had been ordered to +have nothing to do with anyone but the family.</p> + +<p>My sorrow was deepened as I slowly recovered by the addition of a +certain secret chagrin, for I plainly perceived that I was watched. It was +not long before my family gave me a special overseer. Fortunately, it was a +man whom I loved and valued. He had held the place of tutor in the family +of one of our friends, and his former pupil had gone to the university. +This friend, in skillful conversations, began to make me acquainted with +the secrets of philosophy. He had studied at Jena under Daries, and had +acutely seized the relations of that doctrine, which he now sought to +impart to me.</p> + +<p>After a time I took to wandering about the mountain range, and thus +visited Homburg, Kronenburg, Wiesbaden, Schwalbach, and reached the Rhine. +But the time was approaching when I was to go to the university. My mind +was quite as much excited about my life as about my learning. I grew more +and more conscious of an aversion from my native city. I never again went +into Gretchen's quarter of it, and even my old walls and towers had become +disagreeable.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--University Life</i></h4> + + +<p>I had always had my eye upon Göttingen, but my father obstinately +insisted on Leipzig. I arrived in that handsome city just at the time of +the fair, from which I derived particular pleasure, being specially +attracted by the inhabitants of eastern countries in their strange dresses. +I commenced to study under Böhme, professor of history and public law, +and Gellert, professor of literature. The reverence with which Gellert was +regarded by all young people was extraordinary.</p> + +<p>Much has been written about the condition of German literature at that +time. I need only state how it stood towards me. The literary epoch in +which I was born was developed out of the preceding one by opposition. +Foreign influences had previously predominated, but in this epoch the +German sense of freedom and joy began to stir itself. Göttsched, +Lessing, Haller, and, above all, Wieland, had produced works of genius. The +venerable Bengel had procured a decided reception for his labours on the +Revelation of St. John, from the fact that he was known as an intelligent, +upright, God-fearing, blameless man. Deep minds are compelled to live in +the past as well as the future.</p> + +<p>Plunging into literature on my own account, I at this period wrote the +oldest of my extant dramatic labours, "The Lover's Caprice," following it +with "The Accomplices." I had seen already many families ruined by +bankruptcies, divorces, vice, murders, burglaries, and poisonings, and, +young as I was, I had often, in such cases, lent a hand for help and +preservation. Accordingly, these pieces were written from an elevated point +of view, without my having been aware of it. But they could find no favour +on the German stage.</p> + +<p>My health had become somewhat impaired, though I did not think I should +soon become apprehensive about my life. I had brought with me from home a +certain touch of hypochondria, and a chronic pain in my breast, induced by +a fall from horseback, perceptibly increased, and made me dejected. By an +unfortunate diet I destroyed my powers of digestion, so that I experienced +great uneasiness, yet without being able to embrace a resolution for a more +rational mode of life. Besides the epoch of the cold-water bath, the hard +bed slightly covered, and other follies unconditionally recommended, had +begun, in consequence of some misunderstood suggestions of Rousseau, under +the idea of bringing us nearer to nature and delivering us from the +corruption of morals.</p> + +<p>One night I awoke with a violent hemorrhage, and for several days I +wavered between life and death. Recovery was slow, but nature helped me, +and I appeared to have become another man, for I had gained a greater +cheerfulness of mind than I had known for a long time, and I was rejoiced +to feel my inner self at liberty. But what particularly set me up at this +time was to see how many eminent men had undeservedly given me their +affection, among them being Dr. Hermann Groening, Horn, and, above all, +Langer, afterwards librarian at Wolfenbüttel, whose conversation so +far blinded me to the miserable state I was in that I actually forgot +it.</p> + +<p>The confidence of new friends develops itself by degrees. The religious +sentiments, the affairs of the heart which relate to the imperishable, are +the things which both establish the foundation and adorn the summit of +friendship. The Christian religion was wavering between its own +historically positive base and a pure deism, which, grounded on morality, +was in its turn to lay the foundation of ethics. Langer was of the class +who, though learned, yet give the Bible a peculiar preeminence over other +writings. He belongs to those who cannot conceive an immediate connection +with the great God of the universe; a mediation, therefore, was necessary +for him, an analogy to which he thought he could find everywhere, in +earthly and heavenly things. Grounded as I was in the Bible, all that I +wanted was merely the faith to explain as divine that which I had hitherto +esteemed in human fashion. To a sufferer, delicate and weak, the Gospel was +therefore welcome.</p> + +<p>I left Leipzig in September, 1768, for my native city and my home, where +my delicate appearance elicited loving sympathy. Again sickness ensued, and +my life was once more in peril, chiefly through a disturbed, I might even +say, for certain moments, destroyed digestion. But a skillful physician +helped me to convalescence. In the spring I felt so much stronger that I +longed to wander forth again from the chambers and spots where I had +suffered so much. I journeyed to beautiful Alsace and took up lodgings on +the summer-side of the fish-market in Strasburg, where I designed to +continue my studies in law. Most of my fellow-boarders were medical +students, and at table I heard nothing but medical conversations.</p> + +<p>I was thus easily borne along the stream, and at the beginning of the +second half-year I attended lectures on chemistry and anatomy. Yet this +dissipation and dismemberment of my studies were not enough, for a +remarkable political event secured for us a succession of holidays. Marie +Antoinette was to pass through Strasburg on her way to Paris, and the +solemnities were abundantly prepared. In the grand saloon erected on an +island in the Rhine I saw a specimen of the tapestries worked after +Raffaele's cartoons, and this sight was for me a very decided influence, +for I became acquainted with the true and the perfect on a large scale.</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--Fascinating Friendship</i></h4> + + +<p>The most important event at this period, and one that was to have the +weightiest consequences for me, was my meeting with Herder. He accompanied +on his travels the Prince of Holstein-Eutin, who was in a melancholy state +of mind, and had come with him to Strasburg. Herder was singular, both in +his personal appearance and also in his demeanour. He had somewhat of +softness in his manner, which was very suitable and becoming, without being +exactly easy. I was of a very confiding disposition, and with Herder +especially I had no secrets; but from one of his habits--a spirit of +contradiction--I had much to endure.</p> + +<p>Herder could be charmingly prepossessing and brilliant, but he could +just as easily turn an ill-humoured side forward. He resolved to stay in +Strasburg because of a complaint in one of his eyes of the most irritating +nature, which required a tedious and uncertain operation, the tear-bag +being closed below. Therefore he separated from the prince and removed into +lodgings of his own for the purpose of the operation. He confided to me +that he intended to compete for a prize offered at Berlin for the best +treatise on the origin of language. His work, written in a very neat hand, +was nearly completed. During the troublesome and painful cure he lost none +of his vivacity, but he became less and less amiable. He could not write a +note to ask for anything without scoffing rudely and bitterly, generally in +sardonic verse.</p> + +<p>Herder contributed much to my culture, yet he destroyed my enjoyment of +much that I had loved before, and especially blamed me in the strongest +manner for the pleasure I took in Ovid's "Metamorphoses." I most carefully +concealed from him my interest in certain subjects which had rooted +themselves within me, and were little by little moulding themselves into +poetic form. These were "Goetz von Berlichingen" and "Faust." Of my +poetical labours, I believe I laid before him "The Accomplices," but I do +not recollect that on this account I received from him either correction or +encouragement.</p> + +<p>At this epoch of my life took place a singular episode. During a +delightful tour in beautiful Alsace, round about the Vosges, I and two +fellow-students halted for a time at the house of a Protestant clergyman, +pastor in Sesenheim. I had visited the family previously. Herder here +joined us, and during our readings in the evenings introduced to us an +excellent work, "The Vicar of Wakefield." With the German translation, he +undertook to make us acquainted by reading it aloud.</p> + +<p>The pastor had two daughters and a son. The family struck me as +corresponding in the most extraordinary manner to that delineated by +Goldsmith. The elder daughter might be taken for Olivia in the story, and +Frederica, the younger, for Sophia, while, as I looked at the boy, I could +scarcely help exclaiming, "Moses, are you here, too?" A Protestant country +clergyman is, perhaps, the most beautiful subject for a modern idyl; he +appears, like Melchizedek, as priest and king in one person.</p> + +<p>Between me and the charming Frederica a mutual affection sprang up. Her +beautiful nature attracted me irresistibly, and I was happy beyond all +bounds at her side. For her I composed many songs to well-known melodies. +They would have made a pretty book; a few of them still remain, and may +easily be found among the others. But we were destined soon to part. Such a +youthful affection, cherished at random, may be compared to a bombshell +thrown at night, which rises with a soft, brilliant light, mingles for a +moment with the stars, then, in descending, describes a similar path in the +reverse direction, and at last brings destruction where it terminates its +course.</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--Among the Jurists</i></h4> + + +<p>In 1772 I went to Wetzlar, the seat of the Reichskammergericht, or +Imperial Chamber. This was a kind of court of chancery for the whole +empire; and I went there in order to gain increased experience in +jurisprudence. Here I found myself in a large company of talented and +vivacious young men, assistants to the commissioners of the various states, +and by them was accorded a genial welcome.</p> + +<p>To one of the legations at Wetzlar was attached a young man of good +position and abilities, named Jerusalem, whose sad suicide soon afterwards +resulted through an unhappy passion for the wife of a friend. On this +history the plan of "The Sorrows of Werther" was founded. The effect of +this little book was great, nay, immense, and chiefly because it exactly +hit the temper of the times. For as it requires but a little match to blow +up an immense mine, so the explosion which followed my publication was +mighty from the circumstances that the youthful world had already +undermined itself; and the shock was great because all extravagant demands, +unsatisfied passions, and imaginary wrongs, were suddenly brought to an +eruption.</p> + +<p>At this period I usually combined the art of design with poetical +composition. Whenever I dictated, or listened to reading, I drew the +portraits of my friends in profile on grey paper in white and black chalk. +But feeling the insufficiency of this copying, I betook myself once more to +language and rhythm, which were much more at my command. How briskly, how +joyously, I went to work with them will appear from the many poems which, +enthusiastically proclaiming the art of nature and the nature of art, +infused, at the moment of production, new spirit into me as well as in my +friends.</p> + +<p>At this epoch, and in the midst of these occupations, I was sitting one +evening with a struggling light in my chamber, when there entered a +well-formed, slender man, who announced himself by the name of Von Knebel. +Much to my satisfaction, I learned that he came from Weimar, where he was +the companion of Prince Constantin. Of matters there I had already heard +much that was favourable; for several strangers who had come from Weimar +assured us that the widowed Duchess Amalia had gathered round her the best +men to assist in the education of the princes, her sons; that the arts were +not only protected by this princess, but were practised by her with great +diligence and zeal.</p> + +<p>At Weimar was also one of the best theatres of Germany, which was made +famous by its actors, as well as by the authors who wrote for it. When I +expressed a wish to become better acquainted with these persons and things, +my visitor replied, in the most friendly manner possible, that nothing was +easier, since the hereditary prince, with his brother, the Prince +Constantin, had just arrived in Frankfort, and desired to see and know +me.</p> + +<p>I at once expressed the greatest willingness to wait upon them; and my +new friend told me that I must not delay, as their stay would not be long. +I proceeded with Von Knebel to the young princes, who received me in a very +easy and friendly manner.</p> + +<p>As the stay of the young princes in Frankfort was necessarily short, +they made me promise to follow them to Mayence. I gave this promise gladly +enough, and visited them. The few days of my stay passed very pleasantly, +for when my new patrons, with whom I enjoyed delightful conversations on +literature, were abroad on visits and banquets, I remained with their +attendants, drew portraits, or went skating. I returned home full of the +kindness I had met with.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h3><a name="Conversations_with_Eckermann"></a>Conversations with +Eckermann</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> The outstanding feature of the remarkable "Conversations +with Eckermann" is this, that the compilation furnishes an altogether +unique record of the working of Goethe's mature mind. For Goethe's age at +the period when the "Conversations" begin is seventy-three, and eighty-two +when they end. John Peter Eckermann published his work in 1836. In 1848 +appeared an additional portion. Eckermann, born at Winsen, in Hanover, was +the son of a woollen draper. He received an excellent education, and +studied art, under Ramber, in Hanover, but soon became enamoured of poetry +through the influence of Körner and of Goethe. He became the intimate +friend of Goethe, and lived with him for several years. In describing the +friendship, Eckermann says, "My relation to him was peculiar, and of a very +intimate kind. It was that of the scholar to the master, of the son to the +father, of the poor in culture to the rich in culture. His conversation was +as varied as his works. Winter and summer, age and youth, seemed with him +to be engaged in a perpetual strife and change." Goethe was one of the +world's most brilliant conversationalists, ranking in this respect with +Coleridge. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--On Poets and Poetry</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Weimar, June</i> 10, 1823. I reached here a few days ago, but have +not seen Goethe until to-day. He gave me a most cordial reception. I esteem +this the most fortunate day of my life. Goethe was dressed in a blue +frock-coat. He is a sublime figure. His first words were concerning my +manuscript. "I have just come from <i>you</i>" said he. He meant that he +had been reading it all the morning. He commented it enthusiastically. We +talked long together. But I could say little for I could not look at him +enough, with his strong, brown face, full of wrinkles, each wrinkle being +full of expression. He spoke like some old monarch. We parted +affectionately, for every word of his breathed kindness.</p> + +<p><i>Jena, September</i> 8, 1823. Yesterday morning I had the happiness of +another interview with Goethe. What he said to me was quite important, and +will have a beneficial influence on all my life. All the young poets of +Germany should have the benefit of it. "Do not," said he, "attempt to +produce a great work. It is just this mistake which has done harm to our +best minds. I have myself suffered from this error. What have I not dropped +into the well! The present must assert its rights, and so the poet will and +should give out what presses on him. But if one has a great work in his +head, it expels everything else and deprives life for the time of all +comfort. If as to the whole you err, all time and trouble are lost. But if +the poet daily grasps the present, treating with fresh sentiment what it +offers, he always makes sure of something good. If sometimes he does not +succeed, at any rate he has lost nothing. The world is so great and rich, +and life is so manifold, that occasions for poems are never lacking. But +they must all be poems for special occasions (<i>Gelegenheitsgedichte</i>). +All my poems are thus suggested by incidents in real life. I attach no +value to poems snatched out of the air. You know Furnstein, the so-called +poet of nature? He has written the most fascinating poem possible on +hop-culture. I have suggested to him that he should write songs on +handicrafts, especially a weaver's song, for he has spent his life from +youth amongst such folk, and he understands the subject through and +through."</p> + +<p><i>February</i> 24, 1824. At one to-day I went to Goethe's. He showed me +a short critique he had written on Byron's "Cain," which I read with much +interest. "We see," said he, "how the defectiveness of ecclesiastical +dogmas affects such a mind as Byron's, and how by such a piece he seeks to +emancipate himself from doctrine which has been thrust on him. Truly the +English clergy will not thank him, but I shall wonder whether he will not +proceed to treat Bible subjects, not letting slip such topics as the +destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah."</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Philosophical Discussions</i></h4> + + +<p><i>February</i> 25, 1824. Goethe was in high spirits at table. He showed +me Frau von Spiegel's album, in which he had written some very beautiful +verses. For two years a place had been left open for him, and he was +delighted that at length he had been able to fulfil an old promise. +Noticing on another page of the album a poem by Tiedge in the style of his +"Urania," Goethe observed that he had suffered considerably from Tiedge's +"Urania," for at one time nothing else was sung and recited. Said he, +"Wherever you went, you found 'Urania' on the table, and that poem and +immortality were the subjects of every conversation. By no means would I +lose the happiness of believing in a future existence, and indeed I would +say with Lorenzo de Medici that all they are dead, even for this life, who +believe in no other.</p> + +<p>"But such incomprehensible matters lie too far off to be a theme of +daily meditation and thought-distracting speculation. And further, let him +who believes in immortality be happy in silence; he has no reason to hold +his head high because of his conviction. Silly women, priding themselves on +believing with Tiedge in immortality, have been offended at my declaring +that in the future state I hoped I should meet none of those who had +believed in it here. For how I should be tormented! The pious would crowd +about me, saying, 'Were we not right? Did we not predict it? Has it not +turned out exactly so?' And thus even up yonder there would be everlasting +ennui."</p> + +<p><i>April</i> 14, 1824. I went, about one, for a walk with Goethe. We +conversed on the style of different authors. Said he, "Philosophical +speculation is, on the whole, a hindrance to the Germans, for it tends to +induce a tendency to obscurantism. The nearer they approach to certain +philosophical schools, the worse they write. Those Germans write best who, +as business men, and men of real life, confine themselves to the practical. +Thus, Schiller's style is the noblest and most impressive, as soon as he +ceases to philosophise, as I see from his highly interesting letters, on +which I am now busy. Many of our genial German women in their style excel +even many of our famous male writers.</p> + +<p>"The French, in their style, are consistent with their general +character. They are sociable by nature and as such never forget the public +whom they address. They take the trouble to be clear in order to convince, +and agreeable in order to please. The English, as a rule, write well, as +born orators and as practical and realistic men. Altogether, the style of a +writer is a true reflection of his mind. If anyone would acquire a lucid +style, let him first be clear in his thoughts; if he would command a noble +style, he must first possess a noble character."</p> + +<p><i>May</i> 2, 1824. During a drive over the hills through Upper Weimar +we could not look enough at the trees in blossom. We remarked that trees +full of white blossom should not be painted, because they make no picture, +just as birches with their foliage are unfit for the foreground of a +picture, because the delicate foliage does not adequately balance the white +trunk. Said Goethe, "Ruysdael never placed a foliaged birch in the +foreground, but only broken birch stems, without leaves. Such a trunk suits +the foreground admirably, for its bright form stands out most +powerfully."</p> + +<p>After some slight discussion of other subjects, we talked of the +erroneous tendency of such artists as would make religion art, while their +art ought to be religion. Goethe observed, "Religion stands in the same +relation to art as every other higher interest of life. It is merely to be +regarded as a material, which has equal claims with all other vital +materials. Also, faith and unbelief are not those organs with which a work +of art is to be comprehended. Far otherwise; totally different human powers +and capacities are required for such comprehension. Art must appeal to +those organs with which we can apprehend it, or it misses its aim. A +religious material may be a good subject for art, but only if it possesses +general human interest. Thus, the Virgin with the Child is a good subject +that may be treated a hundred times, and will always be seen again with +pleasure."</p> + +<p><i>November</i> 24, 1824. In a conversation this evening concerning +Roman and Greek history, Goethe said, "Roman history is certainly no longer +suited to our time. We have become too humane for the triumphs of +Cæsar to be anything but repellent to us. So also does Greek history +offer little to allure us. The resistance to a foreign enemy is indeed +glorious, but the constant civil wars of states against each other are +intolerable. Besides, the history of our own time is overwhelmingly +important. The battles of Leipzig and Waterloo eclipse Marathon, and such +heroes as Blücher and Wellington are rivals of those of +antiquity."</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--Literary Dicta</i></h4> + + +<p><i>January</i> 10, 1825. In accordance with his deep interest in the +English, Goethe requested me to introduce to him the young Englishmen +staying here. I took this afternoon Mr. H., a young English officer, who, +in the course of the conversation, mentioned that he was reading "Faust," +but found it somewhat difficult.</p> + +<p>Said Goethe, laughing, "Really, I should not have recommended you to +undertake 'Faust.' It is mad stuff, and goes beyond all usual feeling. But +as you have done it of your own accord, without asking me, you will see how +you get through. Faust is so strange an individual that only a few persons +can sympathise with his inner condition. Then the character of +Mephistopheles is also very difficult, because of his irony, and also +because he is the living result of an extensive acquaintance with the +world. But you will see what light comes to you.</p> + +<p>"'Tasso,' on the other hand, lies far nearer to the common feeling of +mankind, and the elaboration of its form is favourable to an easier +understanding of it. What is chiefly needed for reading 'Tasso' is that one +should be no longer a child, and should not have been deprived of good +society."</p> + +<p><i>October</i> 15, 1825. I found Goethe this evening in a very elevated +mood, and had the happiness of hearing from him many significant +observations. Concerning the state of the newest literature, he said, "Want +of character in individual investigators and writers is the source of all +the evils in our most recent literature. Till now the world believed in the +heroism of Lucretia and of Mucius Scævola, and allowed itself thus to +be stimulated and inspired. But now comes historical criticism, and says +that those persons never lived, but are to be regarded as fables and +fictions, imagined by the great mind of the Romans. What are we to do with +so pitiful a truth? And if the Romans were great enough to invent such +stories, we should at least be great enough to believe them."</p> + +<p><i>December</i> 25, 1825. I found Goethe alone this evening, and passed +with him some delightful hours. The conversation at one time turned on +Byron, especially on the disadvantage at which he appears when compared +with the innocent cheerfulness of Shakespeare, and on the frequent and +usually not unmerited blame which he drew on himself by his manifold works +of negation. Said Goethe, "If Byron had had the opportunity of working off +all the opposition that was in him, by delivering many strong speeches in +parliament, he would have been far purer as a poet. But as he scarcely ever +spoke in parliament, he kept in his heart all that he felt against his +nation, and no other means than poetical expression of his sentiments +remained to him. I could therefore style a great part of his works of +negation suppressed parliamentary speeches, and I think the +characterisation would suit them well."</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--"Faust" and Victor Hugo</i></h4> + + +<p><i>May</i> 6, 1827. At a dinner-party at Goethe's, after conversation on +certain poems, he said, "The Germans are certainly strange people. They +make life much more burdensome to themselves than they ought by their deep +thoughts and ideas, which they seek everywhere and fix on everything. Only +have the courage to surrender yourself to your impressions, permit yourself +to be moved, instructed and inspired for something great. But never imagine +that all is vanity, if it is not abstract thought and idea.</p> + +<p>"Next they come and ask what idea I meant to embody in my 'Faust'? As if +I knew that myself, and could inform them. <i>From Heaven through the world +to hell</i> would, indeed, be something; but that is no idea, only a course +of action. And further, that the devil loses the wager, and that a man, +continually struggling from difficult errors towards something better, +should be redeemed, is truly a more effective, and to many a good, +enlightening thought; but it is no idea lying at the basis of the whole, +and of each individual scene. It would have been a fine thing, indeed, if I +had strung so rich and diversified a life as I have brought to view in +'Faust' upon the slender thread of one single, pervading idea.</p> + +<p>"It was altogether out of my province, as a poet, to strive to embody +anything abstract. I received in my mind impressions of an animated, +charming, hundredfold kind, just as a lively imagination presented them; +and as a poet I had nothing more to do than artistically to elaborate these +impressions, and so to present them that others might receive like +impressions. But I am somewhat of the opinion that the more +incommensurable, and the more incomprehensible to the understanding a +poetic production is, so much the better it is."</p> + +<p><i>June</i> 20, 1831. At Goethe's, after dinner, the conversation fell +upon the use and misuse of terms. Said he, "The French use the word +'composition' inappropriately. The expression is degrading as applied to +genuine productions of art and poetry. It is a thoroughly contemptible +word, of which we should seek to get rid as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>"How can one say, Mozart has <i>composed</i> 'Don Juan'! Composition! As +if it were a piece of cake or biscuit, which had been mixed together with +eggs, flour, and sugar! It is a spiritual creation, in which the details as +well as the whole are pervaded by <i>one</i> spirit. Consequently, the +producer did not follow his own experimental impulse, but acted under that +of his demoniac genius."</p> + +<p><i>June</i> 27, 1831. We conversed about Victor Hugo. "He has a fine +talent," said Goethe. "But he is altogether ensnared in the unhappy +romantic tendency of his time, by which he is constrained to represent, +side by side with the beautiful, the most hateful and intolerable. I have +recently read his 'Notre Dame de Paris,' and needed no little patience to +endure the horror that I felt. It is the most abominable book ever written! +And one is not even compensated by truthful representation of human nature +or character. On the contrary, his book is totally destitute of nature and +truth. The so-called acting personages whom he brings forward are not men +with living flesh and blood, but miserable wooden puppets, moved according +to his fancy and made to produce all sorts of contortions and grimaces. But +what kind of an age is this, which not only makes such a book possible, but +even finds it endurable and delightful!"</p> + + +<h4><i>V.--On the Bible</i></h4> + + +<p><i>Sunday, March</i> 11, 1832. This evening for an hour Goethe talked on +various excellent topics. I had purchased an English Bible, but found to my +great regret that it did not include the Apocrypha, because these were not +considered genuine and divinely inspired. I missed the truly noble Tobias, +the wisdom of Solomon and Jesus Sirach, all writings of such deeply +spiritual value, that few others equal them. I expressed to Goethe my +regret at the narrow exclusiveness thus manifested. He entirely agreed with +me.</p> + +<p>"Still," said he, "there are two points of view from which Biblical +subjects may be regarded. There is that of primitive religion, of pure +nature and reason, which is of divine origin. This will ever remain the +same, and will endure as long as divinely endowed beings exist. It is, +however, only for the elect, and is far too high and noble to become +universal.</p> + +<p>"Then there is the point of view of the Church, which is of a more human +nature. This is fallible and fickle, but, though perpetually changing, it +will last as long as there are weak human beings. The light of cloudless +divine revelation is far too pure and radiant for poor, weak man. But the +Church interposes as mediator, to soften and moderate, and all are helped. +Its influence is immense, through the notion that as successor of Christ it +can relieve the burden of human sin. To secure this power, and to +consolidate ecclesiasticism is the special aim of the Christian +priesthood.</p> + +<p>"Therefore it does not so much ask whether this or that book in the +Bible effects a great enlightenment of the mind, it much more looks to the +Mosaic and prophetic and Gospel records for allusions to the fall of man, +and the advent to earth and death of Christ, as the atonement for sin. Thus +you see that for such purposes the noble Tobias, the wisdom of Solomon, and +the sayings of Sirach have little weight.</p> + +<p>"Still, the question as to authenticity in details of the Bible is truly +singular. What is genuine but the really excellent, which harmonises with +the purest reason and nature, and even now ministers to our highest +development? What is spurious but the absurd, hollow, and stupid, which +brings no worthy fruit? If the authenticity of a Biblical writing depends +on the question whether something true throughout has been handed down to +us, we might on some points doubt the genuineness of the Gospels, of which +Mark and Luke were not written from immediate presence and experience, but +long afterwards from oral tradition. And the last, by the disciple John, +was written in his old age.</p> + +<p>"Yet I hold all four evangelists as thoroughly genuine, for there is in +them the reflection of a greatness which emanated from the person of Jesus, +such as only once has appeared on earth. If anyone asks whether it is in my +nature to pay Him devout reverence, I say--'Surely, yes!' I bow before Him +as the divine revelation of the highest principle of morality. If I am +asked whether it is in my nature to revere the sun, again I say--'Surely, +yes!' For the sun is also a manifestation of the highest, and, indeed, the +mightiest which we children of earth are allowed to behold. But if I am +asked whether I am inclined to bow before a thumb-bone of the apostle Peter +or Paul, I say, 'Spare me, and stand off with your absurdities!'</p> + +<p>"Says the apostle, 'Quench not the spirit.' The high and richly-endowed +clergy fear nothing so much as the enlightenment of the lower orders. They +withheld the Bible from them as long as possible. What can a poor member of +the Christian church think of the princely pomp of a richly endowed bishop, +when against this he sees in the Gospels the poverty of Christ, travelling +humbly on foot with His disciples, while the princely bishop drives along +in a carriage drawn by six horses!</p> + +<p>"We do not at all know," continued Goethe, "all that we owe to Luther +and the Reformation generally. We are emancipated from the fetters of +spiritual narrowness. In consequence of our increasing culture, we have +become capable of reverting to the fountain-head, and of comprehending +Christianity in its purity. We have again the courage to stand with firm +feet upon God's earth, and to realise our divinely endowed human nature. +Let spiritual culture ever go on advancing, let the natural sciences go on +ever gaining in breadth and depth, and let the human mind expand as it may, +it will never go beyond the elevation and moral culture of Christianity as +it shines and gleams in the Gospel!</p> + +<p>"But the more effectually we Protestants advance in our noble +development, so much the more rapidly will the Catholics follow. As soon as +they feel themselves caught in the current of enlightenment, they must go +on to the point where all is but one.</p> + +<p>"The mischievous sectism of Protestantism will also cease, and with it +alienation between father and son, brother and sister. For as soon as the +pure teaching and love of Christ, as they really are, are comprehended and +consistently practised, we shall realise our humanity as great and free, +and cease to attach undue importance to mere outward form.</p> + +<p>"Furthermore, we shall all gradually advance from a Christianity of word +and faith to one of feeling and action."</p> + +<p>The conversation next turned on the question how far God is influencing +the great natures of the present world. Said Goethe, "If we notice how +people talk, we might almost believe them to be of opinion that God had +withdrawn into silence since that old time before Christ, and that man was +now placed on his own feet, and must see how he can get on without God. In +religious and moral matters a divine influence is still admitted, but in +matters of science and art it is insisted that they are merely earthly, and +nothing more than a product of pure human powers.</p> + +<p>"But now let anyone only attempt with human will and human capabilities +to produce something comparable with the creations that bear the names of +Mozart, Raphael, or Shakespeare. I know right well that these three noble +men are not the only ones, and that in every department of art innumerable +excellent minds have laboured, who have produced results as perfectly good +as those mentioned. But, if they were as great as those, they transcended +ordinary human nature, and were in just the same degree divinely +gifted."</p> + +<p>Goethe was silent, but I cherished his great and good words in my +heart.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="THOMAS_GRAY"></a>THOMAS GRAY</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Letters"></a>Letters</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Thomas Gray, the poet and author of the "Elegy written in a +Country Churchyard," was born on December 26, 1716, in London, and was the +only survivor of twelve children. At Eton he formed friendships with Horace +Walpole, Thomas Ashton, and Richard West, who were later his chief +correspondents. At Cambridge, where Gray took no degree, he began to make +experiments in poetry. In 1739 and 1740 he travelled in Europe, and in 1742 +he had established himself at Peterhouse, Cambridge, without University +position or recognition of any kind. Here he plunged into the study of +classical literature, and began to work on the "Elegy," which was published +in 1751. He was a shy, sensitive man of very wide learning. Couched in +graceful language, the letters are typical of the best in the best age of +letter-writing, and not only are they fascinating for the tender and +affectionate nature they reveal, but also for the gleam of real humour +which Walpole declared was the poet's most natural vein. He died on July +30, 1771. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--The Student's Freedom</i></h4> + + +<p>TO RICHARD WEST</p> + +<p>Peterhouse, <i>December, 1736.</i> After this term I shall have nothing +more of college impertinences to undergo. I have endured lectures daily and +hourly since I came last, supported by the hopes of being shortly at +liberty to give myself up to my friends and classical companions, who, poor +souls, though I see them fallen into great contempt with most people here, +yet I cannot help sticking to them.</p> + +<p>Indeed, what can I do else? Must I plunge into metaphysics? Alas! I +cannot see in the dark. Nature has not furnished me with the optics of a +cat. Must I pore upon mathematics? Alas! I cannot see in too much light. I +am no eagle. It is very possible that two and two make four, but I would +not give four farthings to demonstrate this ever so clearly; and if these +be the profits of life, give me the amusements of it. The people I behold +all around me, it seems, know all this, and more, and yet I do not know one +of them who inspires me with any ambition of being like him. Surely it was +of this place, now Cambridge, but formerly known by the name of Babylon, +that the prophet spoke when he said, "The wild beasts of the desert shall +dwell there, and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures, and owls +shall build there and satyrs shall dance there." You see, here is a pretty +collection of desolate animals, which is verified in this town to a +tittle.</p> + + +<p>TO HORACE WALPOLE</p> + +<p><i>Burnham, September, 1737.</i> I have at the distance of half a mile +through a green lane a forest all my own, for I spy no human thing in it +but myself. It is a little chaos of mountains and precipices; mountains, it +is true, that do not ascend much above the clouds, nor are the declivities +quite so amazing as Dover cliff; but just such hills as people who love +their necks as well as I do may venture to climb, and crags that give the +eye as much pleasure as if they were more dangerous. Both vale and hill are +covered with most venerable beeches, and other very reverend vegetables, +that, like most other ancient people, are always dreaming out their old +stories to the winds. At the foot of one of these squat I, "<i>Il +penseroso</i>," and there grow to the trunk for a whole morning. The +timorous hare and sportive squirrel gambol around me like Adam in Paradise, +before he had an Eve; but I do not think he read Virgil, as I commonly do +there.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--Travels with Horace Walpole</i></h4> + + +<p>TO HIS MOTHER</p> + +<p><i>Amiens, April, 1739.</i> We left Dover at noon, and with a pretty +brisk gale reached Calais by five. This is an exceeding old, but very +pretty town, and we hardly saw anything there that was not so new and so +different from England that it surprised us agreeably. We went the next +morning to the great church, and were at high mass, it being Easter Monday. +In the afternoon we took a post-chaise for Boulogne, which was only +eighteen miles further.</p> + +<p>This chaise is a strange sort of conveyance, resembling an ill-shaped +chariot, only with the door opening before, instead of the side; three +horses draw it, one between the shafts, and the other two on each side, on +one of which the postillion rides and drives, too. This vehicle will, upon +occasion, go fourscore miles a day; but Mr. Walpole, being in no hurry, +chooses to make easy journeys of it, and we go about six miles an hour. +They are no very graceful steeds, but they go well, and through roads which +they say are bad for France, but to me they seem gravel walks and bowling +greens. In short, it would be the finest travelling in the world were it +not for the inns, which are most terrible places indeed.</p> + +<p>The country we have passed through hitherto has been flat, open, but +agreeably diversified with villages, fields well cultivated, and little +rivers. On every hillock is a windmill, a crucifix, or a Virgin Mary +dressed in flowers and a sarcenet robe; one sees not many people or +carriages on the road; now and then, indeed, you meet a strolling friar, a +countryman, or a woman riding astride on a little ass, with short +petticoats and a great headdress of blue wool.</p> + + +<p>TO THOMAS ASHTON</p> + +<p><i>Paris, April, 1739.</i> Here there are infinite swarms of inhabitants +and more coaches than men. The women in general dress in sacs, flat hoops +of five yards wide, nosegays of artificial flowers on one shoulder, and +faces dyed in scarlet up to the eyes. The men in bags, roll-ups, muffs, and +solitaires.</p> + +<p>We had, at first arrival, an inundation of visits pouring in upon us, +for all the English are acquainted, and herd much together, and it is no +easy matter to disengage oneself from them, so that one sees but little of +the French themselves. To be introduced to people of high quality it is +absolutely necessary to be master of the language. There is not a house +where they do not play, nor is any one at all acceptable unless he does so, +too, a professed gamester being the most advantageous character a man can +have at Paris. The abbés and men of learning are of easy access +enough, but few English that travel have knowledge enough to take any great +pleasure in that company.</p> + +<p>We are exceedingly unsettled and irresolute; don't know our own minds +for two moments together, and try to bring ourselves to a state of perfect +apathy. In short, I think the greatest evil that could have happened to us +is our liberty, for we are not at all capable to determine our own +actions.</p> + + +<p>TO HIS MOTHER</p> + +<p><i>Lyons, October 13, 1739.</i> We have been to see a famous monastery, +called the Grand Chartreuse, and had no reason to think our time lost. +After having travelled seven days, very slow (for we did not change horses, +it being impossible for a chaise to go post in these roads), we arrived at +a little village among the mountains of Savoy, called Echelles; from thence +we proceeded on horses, who are used to the way, to the mountain of the +Chartreuse. It is six miles to the top; the road runs winding up it, +commonly not six feet broad; on one hand is the rock, with woods of +pine-trees hanging overhead; on the other, a monstrous precipice, almost +perpendicular, at the bottom of which rolls a torrent, that sometimes is +tumbling among the fragments of stone that have fallen from on high, and +sometimes precipitating itself down vast descents with a noise like +thunder, which is made still greater by the echo from the mountains on each +side, concurs to form one of the most solemn, the most romantic, and the +most astonishing scenes I ever beheld. Add to this the strange views made +by the crags and cliffs on the other hand, the cascades that in many places +throw themselves from the very summit down into the vale and the river +below.</p> + +<p>This place St. Bruno chose to retire to, and upon its very top founded +the convent, which is the superior of the whole order. When we came there, +the two fathers who are commissioned to entertain strangers (for the rest +must neither speak to one another nor to anyone else) received us very +kindly, and set before us a repast of dried fish, eggs, butter, and fruits, +all excellent in their kind, and extremely neat. They pressed us to spend +the night there, and to stay some days with them; but this we could not do, +so they led us about their house, which is like a little city, for there +are 100 fathers, besides 300 servants, that make their clothes, grind their +corn, press their wine, and do everything among themselves. The whole is +quite orderly and simple; nothing of finery, but the wonderful decency and +the strange situation more than supply the place of it.</p> + + +<p>TO THE SAME</p> + +<p><i>Turin, November 7, 1739</i>. I am this night arrived here, and have +just set down to rest me after eight days tiresome journey. On the seventh +day we came to Lanebourg, the last town in Savoy; it lies at the foot of +the famous Mount Cenis, which is so situated as to allow no room for any +way but over the very top of it. Here the chaise was forced to be pulled to +pieces, and the baggage and that to be carried by mules. We ourselves were +wrapped up in our furs, and seated upon a sort of matted chair without +legs, which is carried upon poles in the manner of a bier, and so began to +ascend by the help of eight men.</p> + +<p>It was six miles to the top, where a plain opens itself about as many +more in breadth, covered perpetually with very deep snow, and in the midst +of that a great lake of unfathomable depth, from whence a river takes its +rise, and tumbles over monstrous rocks quite down the other side of the +mountain. The descent is six miles more, but infinitely more steep than the +going up; and here the men perfectly fly down with you, stepping from stone +to stone with incredible swiftness, in places where none but they could go +three places without falling. The immensity of the precipices, the roaring +of the river and torrents that run into it, the huge crags covered with ice +and snow, and the clouds below you and about you, are objects it is +impossible to conceive without seeing them. We were but five hours in +performing the whole, from which you may judge of the rapidity of the men's +motion.</p> + + +<p>TO THE SAME</p> + +<p><i>Rome, April 2, 1740.</i> The first entrance of Rome is prodigiously +striking. It is by a noble gate, designed by Michael Angelo, and adorned +with statues; this brings you into a large square, in the midst of which is +a large block of granite, and in front you have at one view two churches of +a handsome architecture, and so much alike that they are called the twins; +with three streets, the middle-most of which is one of the longest in Rome. +As high as my expectation was raised, I confess, the magnificence of this +city infinitely surpasses it. You cannot pass along a street but you have +views of some palace, or church, or square, or fountain, the most +picturesque and noble one can imagine.</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Birth of the "Elegy"</i></h4> + + +<p>TO HORACE WALPOLE</p> + +<p><i>January</i>, 1747. I am very sorry to hear you treat philosophy and +her followers like a parcel of monks and hermits, and think myself obliged +to vindicate a profession I honour. The first man that ever bore the name +used to say that life was like the Olympic games, where some came to show +the strength and agility of their bodies; others, as the musicians, +orators, poets, and historians, to show their excellence in those arts; the +traders to get money; and the better sort, to enjoy the spectacle and judge +of all these. They did not then run away from society for fear of its +temptations; they passed their days in the midst of it, conversation was +their business; they cultivated the arts of persuasion, on purpose to show +men it was their interest, as well as their duty, not to be foolish and +false and unjust; and that, too, in many instances with success; which is +not very strange, for they showed by their life that their lessons were not +impracticable.</p> + + +<p>TO THE SAME</p> + +<p><i>Cambridge, February</i> 11, 1751. As you have brought me into a +little sort of distress, you must assist me, I believe, to get out of it as +well as I can. Yesterday I had the misfortune of receiving a letter from +certain gentlemen who have taken the "Magazine of Magazines" into their +hands. They tell me that an "ingenious" poem, called "Reflections in a +Country Church-* yard," has been communicated to them, which they are +printing forthwith; that they are informed that the "excellent" author of +it is I by name, and that they beg not only his "indulgence," but the +"honour" of his correspondence, etc.</p> + +<p>As I am not at all disposed to be either so indulgent or so +correspondent as they desire, I have but one bad way left to escape the +honour they would inflict upon me; and therefore am obliged to desire you +would make Dodsley print it immediately (which may be done in less than a +week's time) from your copy, but without my name, in what form is most +convenient for him, but on his best paper and character. He must correct +the press himself, and print it without any interval between the stanzas, +because the sense is in some places continued beyond them; and the title +must be, "Elegy, written in a Country Churchyard." If he would add a line +or two to say it came into his hands by accident, I should like it +better.</p> + + +<p>TO STONEHEWER</p> + +<p><i>Cambridge, August</i> 18, 1758. I am as sorry as you seem to be that +our acquaintance harped so much on the subject of materialism when I saw +him with you in town. That we are indeed mechanical and dependent beings, I +need no other proof than my own feelings; and from the same feelings I +learn with equal conviction that we are not merely such; that there is a +power within that struggles against the force and bias of that mechanism, +commands its motion, and, by frequent practice, reduces it to that ready +obedience which we call "habit"; and all this in conformity to a +preconceived opinion, to that least material of all agents, a thought.</p> + +<p>I have known many in his case who, while they thought they were +conquering an old prejudice, did not perceive they were under the influence +of one far more dangerous; one that furnishes us with a ready apology for +all our worst actions, and opens to us a full licence for doing whatever we +please; and yet these very people were not at all the more indulgent to +other men, as they should have been; their indignation to such as offended +them was nothing mitigated. In short, the truth is, they wished to be +persuaded of that opinion for the sake of its convenience, but were not so +in their heart.</p> + + +<p>TO HORACE WALPOLE</p> + +<p>1760. I am so charmed with the two specimens of Erse poetry +(Macpherson's) that I cannot help giving you the trouble to inquire a +little farther about them.</p> + +<p>Is there anything known of the author or authors, and of what antiquity +they are supposed to be? Is there any more to be had of equal beauty, or at +all approaching to it? I have often been told that the poem called +"Hardycanute," which I always admired, and still admire, was the work of +somebody that lived a few years ago. This I do not at all believe, though +it has evidently been retouched in places by some modern hand; but, +however, I am authorised by this report to ask whether the two poems in +question are certainly antique and genuine. I make this inquiry in quality +of an antiquary, and am not otherwise concerned about it; for, if I were +sure that anyone now living in Scotland had written them to divert himself, +and laugh at the credulity of the world, I would undertake a journey into +the Highlands only for the pleasure of seeing him.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="ANTONY_HAMILTON"></a>ANTONY HAMILTON</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Memoirs_of_the_Count_de_Grammont"></a>Memoirs of the Count de +Grammont</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> Count Antony Hamilton, soldier, courtier, and author, was +born at Roscrea, Tipperary, in 1646. His father was George Hamilton, +grandson of the Duke of Hamilton. At the death of Charles I., the Hamilton +family took refuge abroad until the Restoration, and Antony's boyhood, +until his fourteenth year, was spent in France. Shortly after their return +with the Stuart dynasty, the illustrious Count de Grammont, exiled from +France in 1662, won the affections of Elizabeth, Antony's sister, and then +with characteristic inconstancy, chose to forget her; but he was caught up +at Dover by the brothers Antony and George, and brought back to fulfil his +engagement. After James II. had retired from England, Antony Hamilton +frequented the court of the fallen monarch at Saint-Germain, where he died +on April 21, 1720. In the "Memoirs of the Count de Grammont," first +published anonymously in 1713, Hamilton, though of British birth, wrote one +of the great classics of the French language. The spirited wit, the +malicious and graceful gaiety of these adventures, are perfectly French in +quality. </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Soldier and Gamester</i></h4> + + +<p>Those who read only for their amusement seem to me more reasonable than +those who read only in order to discover errors; and I may say at once that +I write for the former, without troubling myself about the erudition of the +critics. What does chronological order matter, or an exact narrative, if +only this sketch succeeds in giving a perfect impression of its +original?</p> + +<p>I write, with something of Plutarch's freedom, a life more amazing than +any which that author has left us; an inimitable character whose radiance +covers faults which it would be vain to dissemble; an illustrious +personality whose vices and virtues are inextricably interwoven, and seem +as rare in their perfect harmony as they are brilliant in their contrast. +In war, in love, at the gaming-table, and in all the varied circumstances +of a long career, Count de Grammont has been the wonder of his age.</p> + +<p>It is not for me to describe him as Bussy and Saint-Evremond have tried +to do; his own words shall tell the pleasant story of sieges and battles, +and of his not less glorious stratagems in love or at play.</p> + +<p>Louis XIII. reigned, and Cardinal Richelieu governed the kingdom. Great +men were in command of little armies, and these little armies won great +achievements. The fortunes of powerful houses depended on the minister's +favour. His vast projects were establishing the formidable grandeur of the +France of to-day. But matters of police were a trifle neglected; the +highways were unsafe, and theft went unpunished. Youth, entering on life, +took what part it chose; everyone might be a knight; everyone who could +became a beneficed priest. The sacred and military callings were not +distinguished by their dress, and the Chevalier de Grammont adorned them +both at the siege of Trin.</p> + +<p>Many deeds of daring marked this siege of Trin; there had been great +fatigues and many losses. But of boredom, after De Grammont's arrival, +there was never any throughout the army; no more weariness in the trenches, +no more dulness among the generals. Everywhere, this man sought and carried +joy.</p> + +<p>Some vainly imitated him; others more wisely sought his friendship. +Among these was Matta, a fellow of infinite frankness, probity, and +naturalness, and of the finest discernment and delicacy. A friendship was +quickly established between the two; they agreed to live together, sharing +expenses, and began to give a series of sumptuous and elegant banquets, at +which they found the cards marvellously profitable. The chevalier became +the fashion, and it was considered bad form to contravene his taste.</p> + +<p>But the greatest prosperity is not always the most lasting. Lavish +expenditure such as theirs begins to be felt when the luck changes, and the +chevalier soon had to call his genius to aid him in maintaining his +honourable reputation. Rejecting Matta's suggestion of retrenchment and +reforms as contrary to the honour of France, Grammont laid before him the +better way. He proposed to invite Count de Caméran, a wealthy and +eager player, to supper on the following evening. Matta objected their +present straits.</p> + +<p>"Have you not a grain of imagination?" continued the chevalier. "Order a +supper of the best. He will pay. But listen first to the simple precautions +which I mean to take. You command the Guards, don't you? Well, have fifteen +or twenty men, under your Sergeant Laplace, lying in some quiet place +between here and headquarters."</p> + +<p>"Great heavens!" cried Matta. "An ambush? You mean to rob the unhappy +man? I cannot go so far as that!"</p> + +<p>"Poor simpleton that you are!" was the reply. "Look fairly at the facts. +There is every appearance that we shall gain his money. The Piedmontese, +such as he is, are honest enough, but are by nature absurdly suspicious. He +commands the cavalry. Well, you are a man who cannot rule your tongue, and +it is ten to one that some of your jests will make him anxious. If he were +to take into his head that he was being cheated, what might not happen? He +usually has eight or ten mounted men attending him, and we must guard +against his natural resentment at losing."</p> + +<p>"Give me your hand, dear chevalier," said Matta, "and forgive me for +having doubted you. How wonderful you are! It had never occurred to me +before that a player at the card-table should be backed by a detachment of +infantry outside."</p> + +<p>The supper passed most agreeably, Matta drinking more than usual to +stifle some remaining scruples. The chevalier, brilliant as ever, kept his +guest in continual merriment, whom he was soon to make so serious; and +Caméran's ardour was divided between the good cheer on the table and +the play that was to follow. Meanwhile, the trusty Laplace drew up his men +in the darkness.</p> + +<p>De Grammont, calling to mind the many deceits that had at various times +been practised upon him, steeled his heart against sentimental weakness; +and Matta, unwilling spectator of violated hospitality, went to sleep in an +easy-chair. Play began for small sums, but rose to higher stakes; and +presently Matta was awakened by the loud indignation of their unfortunate +guest to find the cards flying through the air.</p> + +<p>"Play no more, my poor count!" cried Matta, laughing at his transports +of rage. "Don't hope for a change of luck!"</p> + +<p>Caméran insisted, however, and Matta was again aroused by a more +furious storm. "Stop playing!" he shouted. "Don't I tell you it is +impossible that you should win? We are cheating you!"</p> + +<p>The Chevalier de Grammont, all the more annoyed at this ill-placed jest +because it had a certain appearance of truth, rebuked Matta for his rude +gaiety; but the losing player, reassured by Matta's frankness, refused to +be offended by him, and turned again to deal the cards. Caméran lost +fifteen hundred pistoles and paid them the next morning. Matta, severely +reprimanded for his dangerous impertinence, confessed that a brush between +the opposing forces outside would have been a diverting conclusion to the +evening.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--A Complete Education</i></h4> + + +<p>"Tell me the story of your education," said Matta one evening, as the +intimacy of the two friends advanced. "The most trifling particulars of a +life like yours must be well worth knowing. But don't begin with an +enumeration of your ancestors, for I know you are wholly ignorant of their +name and rank."</p> + +<p>"What poor jest is that?" replied the count. "Not all the world is as +ignorant as you. It was owing to my father's own choice that he was not son +of King Henry IV. His majesty desired nothing more than to recognise him, +but my treacherous parent was obdurate to the end. Think how the De +Grammonts would have stood if he had only kept to the truth. I see you +laugh, but it's as true as the Gospel.</p> + +<p>"But to come to facts. I was sent to college with a view to the Church, +but as I had other views, I profited little. I was so fond of gaming that +my teachers lost their Latin in trying to teach it to me. Old Brinon, who +accompanied me as servant and governor, threatened me with my mother's +anger, but I rarely listened. I left college very much as I entered it, +though they considered that I knew enough for the living which my brother +had procured for me.</p> + +<p>"He had just married the niece of the great Richelieu, to whom he wished +to present me. I arrived in Paris, and after enjoying for a few days the +run of the town in order to lose my rusticity, I put on a cassock to appear +at court in a clerical character. But my hair was well powdered and +dressed, my white boots and gilt spurs showed below, and the cardinal was +offended at what he took to be a slight on the tonsure.</p> + +<p>"The costume, a compromise between Rome and the army, delighted the +court, but my brother pointed out that the time had come to choose between +them. 'On the one hand,' he said, 'by declaring for the Church you may have +great possessions and a life of idleness; on the other hand, a soldier's +life offers you slender pay, broken arms and legs, the court's ingratitude, +and at length, perhaps, the rank of camp-marshal, with a glass eye and a +wooden leg. Choose.'</p> + +<p>"'I very well know,' I replied, 'that these two careers cannot be +compared as regards the comfort and convenience of life; but since it is +our duty to seek salvation first of all, I will renounce the Church that I +may save my soul--always on the understanding that I may keep my benefice.' +Neither my brother's remonstrances nor his authority could shake my +resolution, and I had even to go without my benefice.</p> + +<p>"My mother, who hoped that I should be a saint in the Church, but feared +that in the world I should become a devil, or be killed in battle, was at +first inconsolable. But after I had somewhat acquired the manners of the +court and of society she idolised me, and kept me with her as long as +possible. At last the time came for my departure to the war, and the +faithful Brinon undertook to be responsible for my morals and welfare, as +well as for my safety on the field.</p> + +<p>"Brinon and I fell out very soon. He had been entrusted with four +hundred pistoles for my charges, and I naturally wanted to have them. +Brinon refused to part with the money, and I was compelled to take it by +force. He made such ado about it I might have been tearing the heart from +his breast. From this point my spirits rose exceedingly.</p> + +<p>"At last we reached Lyons. Two soldiers stopped us at the gate to take +us to the governor, and I ordered one of them to guide me to the best +hotel, while the other should take Brinon before the governor to give an +account of my journey and purpose. There is as good entertainment in Lyons +as in Paris, but, as usual, my soldier led me to the house of one of his +friends, praising it as the haunt of the best company. We came thither, and +I was left in the hands of the landlord, who was Swiss by race, poisoner by +profession, and robber by custom.</p> + +<p>"Presently Brinon arrived, angrier than an aged monkey, and, finding me +preparing to go down to the company below, assured me that there were none +in the house but a dozen noisy gamblers, playing cards and dice. But I had +become ungovernable since I had secured the money, and sent him off to sup +and sleep, ordering the horses for the hour before dawn. My money began to +tingle in my pocket from the moment when Brinon spoke of the cards.</p> + +<p>"The public room below was crowded with the most astonishing figures. I +had expected well-dressed folk, and here were German and Swiss chapmen +playing backgammon with the manners of cattle. One especially was pointed +out to me by my host as a horse-dealer from Basle, who was willing to play +high, and was always ready to pay his losses. This was sufficient. I +immediately proposed to ruin that horse-dealer. I stood behind him and +studied his play, which was inconceivably bad.</p> + +<p>"We dined side by side, and when the worst meal I have ever taken was +finished, everyone disappeared, with the exception of my Swiss and the +landlord. After a little conversation I proposed a game, and, apologising +for the great liberty he was taking, the horse-dealer consented. I won, and +won again. Brinon entered to interrupt us, and I turned him out of the +room. The play continued in my favour until the little Swiss, having passed +over the stakes, apologised again, and would have retired. That, however, +was not what I wanted. I offered to stake all my winnings in one throw. He +made a good deal of difficulty over it, but at last consented, and won. I +was annoyed, and staked again. Again he won. There was no more bad play +now. Throw after throw, without exception, went in his favour, until all my +money was gone. Then he rose, apologetic as ever, wished me good-night, and +left the house. Thus my education was completed."</p> + +<p>"But what did you do then?" Matta inquired.</p> + +<p>"Brinon hadn't given me all the money."</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The Restoration Court</i></h4> + + +<p>The Chevalier de Grammont had visited England at the time when that +proud nation lay under Cromwell's yoke, and all was sad and serious in the +finest city of the world. But he found a very different scene the next time +he crossed the Channel. The joy of the Restoration was everywhere. The very +people who had solemnly abjured the Stuart line were feasting and rejoicing +on its return.</p> + +<p>He arrived about two years after Charles II. had ascended the throne, +and his welcome at the English court mitigated his sorrows at leaving +France. It was indeed a happy retreat for an exile of his character. +Accustomed as he was to the grandeur of the French court, he was surprised +at the refinement and majesty of that of England. The king was second to +none in bodily or in mental graces, his temperament was agreeable and +familiar. Capable of everything when affairs of state were urgent, he was +unable to apply himself in times of ease; his heart was often the dupe, and +oftener still the slave, of his affections. The Duke of York was of a +different character. His courage was reputed indomitable, his word +inviolable, and his economy, pride, and industry were praised by all.</p> + +<p>The Duke of Ormonde enjoyed the confidence and esteem of his royal +master. The magnitude of his services, his high birth and personal merit, +and the sacrifices which he had made in following the fortunes of Charles +II. justified his elevation to be master of the king's household, first +gentleman of the chamber, and governor of Ireland. He was, so to speak, the +Marshal de Grammont of the English court. The Duke of Buckingham and the +Count of St. Albans were in England what they had been in France; the +former, spirited and fiery, dissipating ingloriously his immense +possessions; the other, without notable talent, having risen from indigence +to a considerable fortune, which his losses at play and abundant +hospitality seemed only to increase.</p> + +<p>Lord Berkeley, who later became Lord Falmouth, was the king's confidant +and favourite, though a man of no great gifts, either physical or +intellectual; but the native nobility of his mind was shown in an +unprecedented disinterestedness, so that he cared for nothing but the glory +of his master. So true-hearted was he, that no one would have taken him to +be a courtier.</p> + +<p>The eldest of the Hamiltons was the best-dressed man at court. He was +handsome, and had those happy talents which lead to fortune and to the +victories of love. He was the most assiduous and polished of courtiers; no +one danced or flirted more gracefully, and these are no small merits in a +court which lives on feasts and gallantry. The handsome Sydney, less +dangerous than he seemed, had too little vivacity to make good the promise +of his features.</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, it was on the little Jermyn, nephew and adopted son of +the aged St. Albans, that all good fortunes showered. Backed by his uncle's +wealth, he had made a brave show at the court of the Princess of Orange, +and, as is so often the case, magnificent equipments had made a way for +love. True, he was a courageous and well-bred man, but his personal +attractions were slight; he was small, with a big head and short legs, and +though his features were not disagreeable, his gait and manner were +affected. His wit was limited to a few expressions, which he used +indiscriminately in raillery and in wooing; yet on these poor advantages +was founded a formidable success in gallantry. His reputation was well +established in England before ever he arrived. If a woman's mind be +prepared, the way is open to her heart, and Jermyn found the ladies of the +English court favourably disposed.</p> + +<p>Such were the heroes of the court. As for the beauties, one could not +turn without seeing some of them. Those of greatest repute were Lady +Castlemaine (later Duchess of Cleveland), Lady Chesterfield, Lady +Shrewsbury, with a hundred other stars of this shining constellation; but +Miss Hamilton and Miss Stewart outshone them all. The new queen added but +little to its brilliancy, either personally or by the members of her +suite.</p> + +<p>Into this society, then, the Chevalier de Grammont entered. He was +familiar with everyone, adapted himself readily to their customs, enjoyed +everything, praised everything, and was delighted to find the manners of +the court neither coarse nor barbarous. With his natural complacency, +instead of the impertinent fastidiousness of which other foreigners had +been guilty, he delighted the whole of England.</p> + +<p>At first he paid court to the king, with whom he found favour. He played +high, and rarely lost. He was soon in so much request that his presence at +a dinner or reception had to be secured eight or ten days beforehand. These +unintermitted social duties wearied him, but he acceded to them as +inevitable, keeping himself free, however, for supper at home. The hour of +these exquisite little suppers was irregular, because it depended on the +course of play; the company was small, but well-chosen. The pick of the +courtiers accepted his invitations, and the celebrated Saint-Evremond, a +fellow exile, was always of the party. De Grammont was his hero, and +Saint-Evremond used to make prudent little lectures on his friend's +weakness.</p> + +<p>"Here you are," he would say, "in the most agreeable and fortunate +circumstances which a man of your humour could find. You are the delight of +a youthful, lively and gallant court. The king makes you one of every +pleasant party. You play every night to morning, without knowing what it is +to lose. You spend lavishly, but your fortune is multiplying itself beyond +your wildest dreams. My dear Chevalier, leave well alone. Don't renew your +ancient follies. Keep to your gaming; amass money; do not interfere with +love." And De Grammont would laugh at his mentor as the "Cato of +Normandy."</p> + + +<h4><i>IV.--The Chevalier's Marriage</i></h4> + + +<p>The Hamilton family lived next to court, in a large house where the most +distinguished people in London, and among them the Chevalier de Grammont, +were to be found daily. Everyone agreed that Miss Hamilton deserved a +sincere and worthy attachment; her birth was of the highest and her charms +were universally acknowledged. Her figure was beautiful, every movement was +gracious, and the ladies of the court were led by her taste in dress and in +coiffure. Affecting neither vivacity nor deliberation in speech, she said +as much as was needed, and no more. After seeing her, the Chevalier wasted +no more time elsewhere.</p> + +<p>The English court was at this time seething with amorous intrigues, and +the Chevalier and his friends were involved in many a risky adventure. The +days were spent in hunting, the nights in dancing and at play. One of the +most splendid masquerades was devised by the queen herself. In this +spectacle, each dancer was to represent a particular nation; and you may +imagine that the tailors and dressmakers were kept busy for many days. +During these preparations, Miss Hamilton took a fancy to ridicule two very +pushing ladies of the court.</p> + +<p>Lady Muskerry, like most great heiresses, was without physical +endowments. She was short, stout, and lame, and her features were +disagreeable; but she was the victim of a passion for dress and for +dancing. The queen, in her kindness to the public, never omitted to make +Lady Muskerry dance at a court ball; but it was impossible to introduce her +into a superb pageant such as the projected masquerade.</p> + +<p>To this lady, then, when the queen was sending her invitations, Miss +Hamilton addressed a fac-simile note, commanding her attendance in the +character of a Babylonian; and to another, a Miss Blague, who was extremely +blonde with a most insipid tint, she sent several yards of the palest +yellow ribbon, requesting her to wear it in her hair. The jest, which +succeeded admirably, was characteristic of Miss Hamilton's playful +disposition.</p> + +<p>During a season at Tunbridge Wells, and another a Bath, the brilliant +Chevalier, admired by all and more successful than ever at play, prosecuted +his suit. Then, almost all the merry courtier-lovers fell at once into the +bonds of marriage. The beautiful Miss Stewart married the Duke of Richmond; +the invincible little Jermyn fell to a conceited lady from the provinces; +Lord Rochester took a melancholy heiress; George Hamilton married the +lovely Miss Jennings; and, lastly, the Chevalier de Grammont, as the reward +of a constancy which he had never shown before, and which he has never +practised since, became the possessor of the charming Miss Hamilton.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2><a name="NATHANIEL_HAWTHORNE"></a>NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE</h2> + + +<h3><a name="Our_Old_Home"></a>Our Old Home</h3> + + +<blockquote><p> On the election of Franklin Pierce as President of the +United States, Hawthorne was appointed consul at Liverpool, whither he +sailed in 1853, resigning in 1857 to go to Rome, and returning to America +four years later. "Our Old Home" is the fruit of this period spent in +England. It was written at Concord, and first appeared serially during 1863 +in the "Atlantic Monthly." Although "Our Old Home" gave no little offence +to English readers, nevertheless it exhibits the author as keenly observant +of their characteristics and life. (See FICTION.) </p></blockquote> + + +<h4><i>I.--Consular Experiences</i></h4> + + +<p>The Liverpool Consulate of the United States, in my day, was located in +Washington Buildings, in the neighbourhood of some of the oldest docks. +Here in a stifled and dusky chamber I spent wearily four good years of my +existence. Hither came a great variety of visitors, principally Americans, +but including almost every other nationality, especially the distressed and +downfallen ones. All sufferers, or pretended ones, in the cause of Liberty +sought the American Consulate in hopes of bread, and perhaps to beg a +passage to the blessed home of Freedom.</p> + +<p>My countrymen seemed chiselled in sharper angles than I had imagined at +home. They often came to the Consulate in parties merely to see how their +public servant was getting on with his duties.</p> + +<p>No people on earth have such vagabond habits as ourselves. A young +American will deliberately spend all his resources in an aesthetic +peregrination of Europe. Often their funds held out just long enough to +bring them to the doors of my Consulate. Among these stray Americans I +remember one ragged, patient old man, who soberly affirmed that he had been +wandering about England more than a quarter of a century, doing his utmost +to get home, but never rich enough to pay his passage.</p> + +<p>I recollect another queer, stupid, fat-faced individual, a country +shopkeeper from Connecticut, who had come over to England solely to have an +interview with the queen. He had named one of his children for her majesty, +and the other for Prince Albert, and had transmitted photographs of them to +the illustrious godmother, which had been acknowledged by her secretary. He +also had a fantastic notion that he was rightful heir to a rich English +estate. The cause of this particular insanity lies deep in the +Anglo-American heart. We still have an unspeakable yearning towards +England, and I might fill many pages with instances of this diseased +American appetite for English soil. A respectable-looking woman, +exceedingly homely, but decidedly New Englandish, came to my office with a +great bundle of documents, containing evidences of her indubitable claim to +the site on which all the principal business part of Liverpool has long +been situated.</p> + +<p>All these matters, however, were quite distinct from the real business +of that great Consulate, which is now woefully fallen off. The technical +details I left to the treatment of two faithful, competent English +subordinates. An American has never time to make himself thoroughly +qualified for a foreign post before the revolution of the political wheel +discards him from his office. For myself, I was not at all the kind of man +to grow into an ideal consul. I never desired to be burdened with public +influence, and the official business was irksome. When my successor +arrived, I drew a long, delightful breath.</p> + +<p>These English sketches comprise a few of the things that I took note of, +in many escapes from my consular servitude. Liverpool is a most convenient +point to get away from. I hope that I do not compromise my American +patriotism by acknowledging that in visiting many famous localities, I was +often conscious of a fervent hereditary attachment to the native soil of +our forefathers, and felt it to be our Old Home.</p> + + +<h4><i>II.--A Sentimental Experience</i></h4> + + +<p>There is a small nest of a place in Leamington which I remember as one +of the cosiest nooks in England. The ordinary stream of life does not run +through this quiet little pool, and few of the inhabitants seem to be +troubled with any outside activities.</p> + +<p>Its original nucleus lies in the fiction of a chalybeate well. I know +not if its waters are ever tasted nowadays, but it continues to be a resort +of transient visitors. It lies in pleasant Warwickshire at the very midmost +point of England, surrounded by country seats and castles, and is the more +permanent abode of genteel, unoccupied, not very wealthy people.</p> + +<p>My chief enjoyment there lay in rural walks to places of interest in the +neighbourhood. The high-roads are pleasant, but a fresher interest is to be +found in the footpaths which go wandering from stile to stile, along hedges +and across broad fields, and through wooded parks. These by-paths admit the +wayfarer into the very heart of rural life. Their antiquity probably +exceeds that of the Roman ways; the footsteps of the aboriginal Britons +first wore away the grass, and the natural flow of intercourse from village +to village has kept the track bare ever since. An American farmer would +plough across any such path. Old associations are sure to be fragrant herbs +in English nostrils, but we pull them up as weeds.</p> + +<p>I remember such a path, which connects Leamington with the small village +of Lillington. The village consists chiefly of one row of dwellings, +growing together like the cells of a honeycomb, without intervening +gardens, grass-plots, orchards, or shade trees. Beyond the first row there +was another block of small, old cottages with thatched roofs. I never saw a +prettier rural scene. In front of the whole row was a luxuriant hawthorne +hedge, and belonging to each cottage was a little square of garden ground. +The gardens were chock-full of familiar, bright-coloured flowers. The +cottagers evidently loved their little nests, and kindly nature helped +their humble efforts with its flowers, moss, and lichens.</p> + +<p>Not far from these cottages a green lane turned aside to an ideal +country church and churchyard. The tower was low, massive, and crowned with +battlements. We looked into the windows and beheld the dim and quiet +interior, a narrow space, but venerable with the consecration of many +centuries. A well-trodden path led across the churchyard. Time gnaws an +English gravestone with wonderful appetite. And yet this, same ungenial +climate has a lovely way of dealing with certain horizontal monuments. The +unseen seeds of mosses find their way into the lettered furrows, and are +made to germinate by the watery sunshine of the English sky; and +by-and-bye, behold, the complete inscription beautifully embossed in velvet +moss on the marble slab! I found an almost illegible stone very close to +the church, and made out this forlorn verse.</p> + +<blockquote> +Poorly lived,<br /> +And poorly died;<br /> +Poorly buried,<br /> +And no one cried.<br /> +</blockquote> + +<p>From Leamington, the road to Warwick is straight and level till it +brings you to an arched bridge over the Avon. Casting our eyes along the +quiet stream through a vista of willows, we behold the grey magnificence of +Warwick Castle. From the bridge the road passes in front of the Castle +Gate, and enters the principal street of Warwick.</p> + +<p>Proceeding westward through the town, we find ourselves confronted by a +huge mass of rock, penetrated by a vaulted passage, which may well have +been one of King Cymbeline's gateways; and on the top of the rock sits a +small, old church, communicating with an ancient edifice that looks down on +the street. It presents a venerable specimen of the timber-and-plaster +style of building; the front rises into many gables, the windows mostly +open on hinges; the whole affair looks very old, but the state of repair is +perfect.</p> + +<p>On a bench, enjoying the sunshine, and looking into the street, a few +old men are generally to be seen, wrapped in old-fashioned cloaks and +wearing the identical silver badges which the Earl of Leicester gave to the +twelve original Brethren of Leicester's Hospital--a community which exists +to-day under the modes established for it in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. +This sudden cropping-up of an apparently dead and buried state of society +produces a picturesque effect.</p> + +<p>The charm of an English scene consists in the rich verdure of the +fields, in the stately wayside trees, and in the old and high cultivation +that has humanised the very sods. To an American there is a kind of +sanctity even in an English turnip-field.</p> + +<p>After my first visit to Leamington, I went to Lichfield to see its +beautiful cathedral, and because it was the birthplace of Dr. Johnson, with +whose sturdy English character I became acquainted through the good offices +of Mr. Boswell. As a man, a talker, and a humorist, I knew and loved him. I +might, indeed, have had a wiser friend; the atmosphere in which he breathed +was dense, and he meddled only with the surface of life. But then, how +English!</p> + +<p>I know not what rank the cathedral of Lichfield holds among its sister +edifices. To my uninstructed vision it seemed the object best worth gazing +at in the whole world.</p> + +<p>Seeking for Johnson's birthplace, I found a tall and thin house, with a +roof rising steep and high. In a corner-room of the basement, where old +Michael Johnson may have sold books, is now what we should call a dry-goods +store. I could get no admittance, and had to console myself with a sight of +the marble figure sitting in the middle of the Square with his face turned +towards the house. A bas-relief on the pedestal shows Johnson doing penance +in the market-place of Uttoxeter for an act of disobedience to his father, +committed fifty years before.</p> + +<p>The next day I went to Uttoxeter on a sentimental pilgrimage to see the +very spot where Johnson had stood. How strange it is that tradition should +not have kept in mind the place! How shameful that there should be no local +memorial of this incident, as beautiful and touching a passage as can be +cited out of any human life!</p> + + +<h4><i>III.--The English Vanity Fair</i></h4> + + +<p>One summer we found a particularly delightful abode in one of the oases +that have grown up on the wide waste of Blackheath. A friend had given us +pilgrims and dusty wayfarers his suburban residence, with all its +conveniences, elegances, and snuggeries, its lawn and its cosy +garden-nooks. I already knew London well, and I found the quiet of my +temporary haven more attractive than anything that the great town could +offer. Our domain was shut in by a brick wall, softened by shrubbery, and +beyond our immediate precincts there was an abundance of foliage. The +effect was wonderfully sylvan and rural; only we could hear the discordant +screech of a railway-train as it reached Blackheath. It gave a deeper +delight to my luxurious idleness that we could contrast it with the turmoil +which I escaped.</p> + +<p>Beyond our own gate I often went astray on the great, bare, dreary +common, with a strange and unexpected sense of desert freedom. Once, about +sunset, I had a view of immense London, four or five miles off, with the +vast dome in the midst, and the towers of the Houses of Parliament rising +up into the smoky canopy--a glorious and sombre picture, but irresistibly +attractive.</p> + +<p>The frequent trains and steamers to Greenwich have made Blackheath a +playground and breathing-place for Londoners. Passing among these holiday +people, we come to one of the gateways of Greenwich Park; it admits us from +the bare heath into a scene of antique cultivation, traversed by avenues of +trees. On the loftiest of the gentle hills which diversify the surface of +the park is Greenwich Observatory. I used to regulate my watch by the broad +dial-plate against the Observatory wall, and felt it pleasant to be +standing at the very centre of time and space.</p> + +<p>The English character is by no means a lofty one, and yet an observer +has a sense of natural kindness towards them in the lump. They adhere +closer to original simplicity; they love, quarrel, laugh, cry, and turn +their actual selves inside out with greater freedom than Americans would +consider decorous. It was often so with these holiday folk in Greenwich +Park, and I fancy myself to have caught very satisfactory glimpses of +Arcadian life among the cockneys there.</p> + +<p>After traversing the park, we come into the neighbourhood of Greenwich +Hospital, an establishment which does more honour to the heart of England +than anything else that I am acquainted with. The hospital stands close to +the town, where, on Easter Monday, it was my good fortune to behold the +festivity known as Greenwich Fair.</p> + +<p>I remember little more of it than a confusion of unwashed and shabbily +dressed people, such as we never see in our own country. On our side of the +water every man and woman has a holiday suit. There are few sadder +spectacles than a ragged coat or a soiled gown at a festival.</p> + +<p>The unfragrant crowd was exceedingly dense. There were oyster-stands, +stalls of oranges, and booths with gilt gingerbread and toys for the +children. The mob were quiet, civil, and remarkably good-humoured, making +allowance for the national gruffness; there was no riot. What immensely +perplexed me was a sharp, angry sort of rattle sounding in all quarters, +until I discovered that the noise was produced by a little instrument +called "the fun of the fair," which was drawn smartly against people's +backs. The ladies draw their rattles against the young men's backs, and the +young men return the compliment. There were theatrical booths, fighting men +and jugglers, and in the midst of the confusion little boys very solicitous +to brush your boots. The scene reminded me of Bunyan's description of +Vanity Fair.</p> + +<p>These Englishmen are certainly a franker and simpler people than +ourselves, from peer to peasant; but it may be that they owe those manly +qualities to a coarser grain in their nature, and that, with a fine one in +ours, we shall ultimately acquire a marble polish of which they are +unsusceptible.</p> + +<p>From Greenwich the steamers offer much the most agreeable mode of +getting to London. At least, it might be agreeable except for the soot from +the stove-pipe, the heavy heat of the unsheltered deck, the spiteful little +showers of rain, the inexhaustible throng of passengers, and the +possibility of getting your pocket picked.</p> + +<p>A notable group of objects on the bank of the river is an assemblage of +walls, battlements, and turrets, out of the midst of which rises one great, +greyish, square tower, known in English history as the Tower. Under the +base of the rampart we may catch a glimpse of an arched water-entrance; it +is the Traitor's Gate, through which a multitude of noble and illustrious +personages have entered the Tower on their way to Heaven.</p> + +<p>Later, we have a glimpse of the holy Abbey; while that grey, ancestral +pile on the opposite side of the river is Lambeth Palace. We have passed +beneath half a dozen bridges in our course, and now we look back upon the +mass of innumerable roofs, out of which rise steeples, towers, columns, and +the great crowning Dome--look back upon that mystery of the world's +proudest city, amid which a man so longs and loves to be, not, perhaps, +because it contains much that is positively admirable and enjoyable, but +because the world has nothing better.</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12059 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + |