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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Library Of The World's Best Literature, Ancient And Modern, Vol. 2 + +Author: Charles Dudley Warner + +Release Date: June 30, 2004 [EBook #12788] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charlie Kirschner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +LIBRARY OF THE + +WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE + +ANCIENT AND MODERN + + + + +CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER + +EDITOR + + + + +HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE + +LUCIA GILBERT RUNKLE + +GEORGE HENRY WARNER + +ASSOCIATE EDITORS + + + + +Connoisseur Edition + +VOL. II. + +1896 + + + + +THE ADVISORY COUNCIL + + +CRAWFORD H. TOY, A.M., LL.D., + Professor of Hebrew, HARVARD UNIVERSITY, Cambridge, Mass. + + +THOMAS R. LOUNSBURY, LL.D., L.H.D., + Professor of English in the Sheffield Scientific School of + YALE UNIVERSITY, New Haven, Conn. + + +WILLIAM M. SLOANE, PH.D., L.H.D., + Professor of History and Political Science, + PRINCETON UNIVERSITY, Princeton, N.J. + + +BRANDER MATTHEWS, A.M., LL.B., + Professor of Literature, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, New York City. + + +JAMES B. ANGELL, LL.D., + President of the UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN, Ann Arbor, Mich. + + +WILLARD FISKE, A.M., PH.D., + Late Professor of the Germanic and Scandinavian Languages + and Literatures, CORNELL UNIVERSITY, Ithaca, N.Y. + + +EDWARD S. HOLDEN, A.M., LL.D., + Director of the Lick Observatory, and Astronomer, + UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, Berkeley, Cal. + + +ALCÉE FORTIER, LIT.D., + Professor of the Romance Languages, + TULANE UNIVERSITY, New Orleans, La. + + +WILLIAM P. TRENT, M.A., + Dean of the Department of Arts and Sciences, and Professor of + English and History, + UNIVERSITY OF THE SOUTH, Sewanee, Tenn. + + +PAUL SHOREY, PH.D., + Professor of Greek and Latin Literature, + UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO, Chicago, Ill. + + +WILLIAM T. HARRIS, LL.D., + United States Commissioner of Education, + BUREAU OF EDUCATION, Washington, D.C. + + +MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, A.M., LL.D., + Professor of Literature in the + CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA, Washington, D.C. + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + +VOL. II. + + LIVED +HENRI FRÉDÉRIC AMIEL--_Continued_: 1821-1881 + Self-interest Woman's ideal the Community's Fate + Wagner's Music French Self-Consciousness + Secret of Remaining Young Frivolous Art + Results of Equality Critical Ideals + View-Points of History The Best Art + Introspection and Schopenhauer The True Critic + Music and the Imagination Spring--Universal Religion + Love and the Sexes Introspective Meditations + Fundamentals of Religion Destiny (just before death) + Dangers from Decay of Earnestness + +ANACREON B.C. 562?-477 + Drinking The Grasshopper + Age The Swallow + The Epicure The Poet's Choice + Gold Drinking + A Lover's Sigh + +HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (by Benjamin W. Wells) 1805-1875 + The Steadfast Tin Soldier What the Moon Saw + The Teapot The Lovers + The Ugly Duckling The Snow Queen + The Nightingale + The Market Place and the Andersen Jubilee at Odense + ('The Story of My Life') + 'Miserere' in the Sixtine Chapel ('The Improvisatore') + +ANEURIN Sixth Century + The Slaying of Owain + The Fate of Hoel, Son of the Great Cian + The Giant Gwrveling Falls at Last + +ANGLO-SAXON LITERATURE (by Robert Sharp) + From 'Beowulf' The Fortunes of Men + Deor's Lament From 'Judith' + From 'The Wanderer' The Fight at Maldon + The Seafarer Cædmon's Inspiration + From the 'Chronicle' + +GABRIELE D'ANNUNZIO 1864- + The Drowned Boy ('The Triumph of Death') + To an Impromptu of Chopin (same) + India + +ANTAR (by Edward S. Holden) About 550-615 + The Valor of Antar + +LUCIUS APULEIUS Second Century + The Tale of Aristomenes, the Commercial Traveler ('The + Metamorphoses') + The Awakening of Cupid (same) + +THOMAS AQUINAS (by Edwin A. Pace) 1226-1274 + On the Value of Our Concepts of the Deity ('Summa + Theologica') + How Can the Absolute Be a Cause? ('Quæstiones Disputatæ') + On the Production of Living Things (same) + +THE ARABIAN NIGHTS (by Richard Gottheil) + From 'The Story of the City of Brass' (Lane's Translation) + From 'The History of King Omar Ben Ennuman, and His + Sons Sherkan and Zoulmekan' (Payne's Translation) + From 'Sindbad the Seaman and Sindbad the Landsman' + (Burton's Translation) + Conclusion of 'The Thousand Nights and a Night' (Burton's + Translation) + +ARABIC LITERATURE (by Richard Gottheil) + Imr-al-Kais: Description of a Mountain Storm + Zuhéir: Lament for the Destruction of his Former Home + Tarafah ibn al-'Abd: Rebuke to a Mischief-Maker + Labîd: Lament for the Afflictions of his Tribe + Antar: A Fair Lady + Duraid, son of as-Simmah: The Death of 'Abdallâh + Ash-Shanfarà of Azd: A Picture of Womanhood + 'Umar ibn Rabí'a: Zeynab at the Ka'bah + 'Umar ibn Rabí'a: The Unveiled Maid + Al-Nâbighah: Eulogy of the Men of Ghassân + Nusaib: The Slave-Mother Sold + Al-Find: Vengeance + Ibrahim, Son of Kunaif: Patience + Abu Sakhr: A Lost Love + Abu l'Ata of Sind: An Address to the Beloved + Ja'far ibn 'Ulbah: A Foray + Katari ibn al-Fujâ'ah: Fatality + Al-Fadi ibn al-Abbas: Implacability + Hittân ibn al-Mu'allà: Parental Affection + Sa'd, son of Malik: A Tribesman's Valor + From Sale's Koran:--Chapter xxxv.: "The Creator"; + Chapter lv.: "The Merciful"; Chapter lxxxiv.: "The + Rending in Sunder" + Al-Hariri: His Prayer + Al-Hariri: The Words of Hareth ibn Hammam + The Caliph Omar Bin Abd Al-Aziz and the Poets (From + 'Supplemental Nights': Burton's Translation) + +DOMINIQUE FRANÇOIS ARAGO (by Edward S. Holden) 1786-1853 + Laplace + +JOHN ARBUTHNOT 1667-1735 + The True Characters of John Bull, Nic. Frog, and Hocus + ('The History of John Bull') + Reconciliation of John and his Sister Peg (same) + Of the Rudiments of Martin's Learning ('Memoirs of + Martinus Scriblerus') + +THE ARGONAUTIC LEGEND + The Victory of Orpheus ('The Life and Death of Jason') + +LUDOVICO ARIOSTO (by L. Oscar Kuhns) 1474-1533 + The Friendship of Medoro and Cloridane ('Orlando Furioso') + The Saving of Medoro (same) + The Madness of Orlando (same) + +ARISTOPHANES (by Paul Shorey) B.C. 448-390? + Origin of the Peloponnesian War ('The Acharnians') + The Poet's Apology (same) + Appeal of the Chorus ('The Knights') + Cloud Chorus ('The Clouds') + A Rainy Day on the Farm ('The Peace') + The Harvest (same) + Grand Chorus of Birds ('The Birds') + Call to the Nightingale (same) + The Building of Cloud-Cuckoo-Town (same) + Chorus of Women ('Thesmophoriazusæ') + Chorus of Mystæ in Hades ('The Frogs') + A Parody of Euripides' Lyric Verse ('The Frogs') + The Prologues of Euripides (same) + +ARISTOTLE (by Thomas Davidson) B.C. 384-322 + Nature of the Soul ('On the Soul') + On the Difference between History and Poetry ('Poetics') + On Philosophy (Cicero's 'Nature of the Gods') + On Essences ('Metaphysics') + On Community of Studies ('Politics') + Hymn to Virtue + +JÓN ARNASON 1819-1888 + From 'Icelandic Legends': + The Merman + The Fisherman of Götur + The Magic Scythe + The Man-Servant and the Water-Elves + The Crossways + +ERNST MORITZ ARNDT 1769-1860 + What is the German's Fatherland? + The Song of the Field-Marshal + Patriotic Song + +EDWIN ARNOLD 1832- + Youth of Buddha ('The Light of Asia') + The Pure Sacrifice of Buddha (same) + Faithfulness of Yudhisthira ('The Great Journey') + He and She + After Death ('Pearls of the Faith') + Solomon and the Ant (same) + The Afternoon (same) + The Trumpet (same) + Envoi to 'The Light of Asia' + Grishma; or the Season of Heat (Translated from Kalidasa) + +MATTHEW ARNOLD (by George Edward Wood-berry) 1822-1888 + Intelligence and Genius ('Essays in Criticism') + Sweetness and Light ('Culture and Anarchy') + Oxford ('Essays in Criticism') + To A Friend + Youth and Calm + Isolation--To Marguerite + Stanzas in Memory of the Author of 'Obermann' (1849) + Memorial Verses (1850) + The Sick King in Bokhara + Dover Beach + Self-Dependence + Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse + A Summer Night + The Better Part + The Last Word + +THE ARTHURIAN LEGENDS (by Richard Jones) + From Geoffrey of Monmouth's 'Historia Britonum' + The Holy Grail (Malory's 'Morte d'Arthur') + +PETER CHRISTEN ASBJÖRNSEN 1812-1885 + Gudbrand of the Mountain-Side + The Widow's Son + +ROGER ASCHAM 1515-1568 + On Gentleness in Education ('The Schoolmaster') + On Study and Exercise ('Toxophilus') + +ATHENÆUS Third Century B.C. + Why the Nile Overflows ('Deipnosophistæ') + How to Preserve the Health (same) + An Account of Some Great Eaters (same) + The Love of Animals for Man (same) + +PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM 1790-1855 + The Genius of the North + The Lily of the Valley + Svanhvit's Colloquy ('The Islands of the Blest') + The Mermaid + +AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE (by Frederick Morris + Warren) Twelfth Century + 'Tis of Aucassin and Nicolette + +JOHN JAMES AUDUBON 1780-1851 + A Dangerous Adventure ('The American Ornithological + Biography') + +BERTHOLD AUERBACH 1812-1882 + The First Mass ('Ivo the Gentleman') + The Peasant-Nurse and the Prince ('On the Heights') + + + + +FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS + + +VOLUME II. + + * * * * * + + PAGE +The Gutenberg Bible (Colored Plate) Frontispiece +Lyly's "Euphues" (Fac-simile) 485 +Hans Christian Andersen (Portrait) 500 +"Haroun al Raschid" (Photogravure) 622 +Dominique François Arago (Portrait) 704 +Ludovico Ariosto (Portrait) 742 +Aristotle (Portrait) 788 +Matthew Arnold (Portrait) 844 +"Lancelot Bids Adieu to Elaine" (Photogravure) 890 +John James Audubon (Portrait) 956 + + +VIGNETTE PORTRAITS + +Anacreon Aristophenes +Lucius Apuleius Ernst Moritz Arndt +Thomas Aquinas Roger Ascham +John Arbuthnot Berthold Auerbach + + + + +_EUPHUES._. + +Reduced facsimile of title-page of the "Euphues" of John Lyly. + +The Colophon reads: + +Imprinted at London by Thomas East, for Gabriel Cawood dwelling +in Panics Church yard. 1581. + +This is a good example of the quaint title-pages of the books of the +early printers; +showing the old-fashioned border, the true "old-style" type, the +ancient form of the S, the V, and the U, and the now obsolete +spelling of several words. + + + + +_EVPHVES._ + + +THE ANATOMY +OF WIT. + + +Verie pleasaunt for all +Gentlemen to read, and +most necessarie to remember. + +wherein are contained the +delightes that Wit followeth in his youth +by the pleasantnesse of love, & the happinesse +he reapeth in age, by +the perfectnesse of +Wisedome. + +By John Lyly Master +of Art. + +Corrected and augmented. + +Imprinted at London +for Gabriel Cawood dwelling +in Paules. Church-yard. + + + + +(Continued from Volume I) + +to the storms of air and sea; and while the soul of Mozart seems to +dwell on the ethereal peaks of Olympus, that of Beethoven climbs +shuddering the storm-beaten sides of a Sinai. Blessed be they both! Each +represents a moment of the ideal life, each does us good. Our love is +due to both. + +Self-interest is but the survival of the animal in us. Humanity only +begins for man with self-surrender. + + * * * * * + +MAY 27TH, 1857.--Wagner's is a powerful mind endowed with strong +poetical sensitiveness. His work is even more poetical than musical. The +suppression of the lyrical element, and therefore of melody, is with him +a systematic _parti pris._ No more duos or trios; monologue and the aria +are alike done away with. There remains only declamation, the +recitative, and the choruses. In order to avoid the conventional in +singing, Wagner falls into another convention,--that of not singing at +all. He subordinates the voice to articulate speech, and for fear lest +the muse should take flight he clips her wings; so that his works are +rather symphonic dramas than operas. The voice is brought down to the +rank of an instrument, put on a level with the violins, the hautboys, +and the drums, and treated instrumentally. Man is deposed from his +superior position, and the centre of gravity of the work passes into the +baton of the conductor. It is music depersonalized,--neo-Hegelian +music,--music multiple instead of individual. If this is so, it is +indeed the music of the future,--the music of the socialist democracy +replacing the art which is aristocratic, heroic, or subjective. + + * * * * * + +DECEMBER 4TH, 1863.--The whole secret of remaining young in spite of +years, and even of gray hairs, is to cherish enthusiasm in one's self, +by poetry, by contemplation, by charity,--that is, in fewer words, by +the maintenance of harmony in the soul. + + * * * * * + +APRIL 12TH, 1858.--The era of equality means the triumph of mediocrity. +It is disappointing, but inevitable; for it is one of time's +revenges.... Art no doubt will lose, but justice will gain. Is not +universal leveling down the law of nature?... The world is striving with +all its force for the destruction of what it has itself brought forth! + + * * * * * + +MARCH 1ST, 1869.--From the point of view of the ideal, humanity is +_triste_ and ugly. But if we compare it with its probable origins, we +see that the human race has not altogether wasted its time. Hence there +are three possible views of history: the view of the pessimist, who +starts from the ideal; the view of the optimist, who compares the past +with the present; and the view of the hero-worshiper, who sees that all +progress whatever has cost oceans of blood and tears. + + * * * * * + +AUGUST 31ST, 1869.--I have finished Schopenhauer. My mind has been a +tumult of opposing systems,--Stoicism, Quietism, Buddhism, Christianity. +Shall I never be at peace with myself? If impersonality is a good, why +am I not consistent in the pursuit of it? and if it is a temptation, why +return to it, after having judged and conquered it? + +Is happiness anything more than a conventional fiction? The deepest +reason for my state of doubt is that the supreme end and aim of life +seems to me a mere lure and deception. The individual is an eternal +dupe, who never obtains what he seeks, and who is forever deceived by +hope. My instinct is in harmony with the pessimism of Buddha and of +Schopenhauer. It is a doubt which never leaves me, even in my moments of +religious fervor. Nature is indeed for me a Maïa; and I look at her, as +it were, with the eyes of an artist. My intelligence remains skeptical. +What, then, do I believe in? I do not know. And what is it I hope for? +It would be difficult to say. Folly! I believe in goodness, and I hope +that good will prevail. Deep within this ironical and disappointed being +of mine there is a child hidden--a frank, sad, simple creature, who +believes in the ideal, in love, in holiness, and all heavenly +superstitions. A whole millennium of idyls sleeps in my heart; I am a +pseudo-skeptic, a pseudo-scoffer. + + "Borne dans sa nature, infini dans ses voeux, + L'homme est un dieu tombé qui se souvient des cieux." + + * * * * * + +MARCH 17TH, 1870.--This morning the music of a brass band which had +stopped under my windows moved me almost to tears. It exercised an +indefinable, nostalgic power over me; it set me dreaming of another +world, of infinite passion and supreme happiness. Such impressions are +the echoes of Paradise in the soul; memories of ideal spheres whose sad +sweetness ravishes and intoxicates the heart. O Plato! O Pythagoras! +ages ago you heard these harmonies, surprised these moments of inward +ecstasy,--knew these divine transports! If music thus carries us to +heaven, it is because music is harmony, harmony is perfection, +perfection is our dream, and our dream is heaven. + + * * * * * + +APRIL 1ST, 1870.--I am inclined to believe that for a woman love is the +supreme authority,--that which judges the rest and decides what is good +or evil. For a man, love is subordinate to right. It is a great passion, +but it is not the source of order, the synonym of reason, the criterion +of excellence. It would seem, then, that a woman places her ideal in the +perfection of love, and a man in the perfection of justice. + + * * * * * + +JUNE 5TH, 1870.--The efficacy of religion lies precisely in that which +is not rational, philosophic, nor eternal; its efficacy lies in the +unforeseen, the miraculous, the extraordinary. Thus religion attracts +more devotion in proportion as it demands more faith,--that is to say, +as it becomes more incredible to the profane mind. The philosopher +aspires to explain away all mysteries, to dissolve them into light. It +is mystery, on the other hand, which the religious instinct demands and +pursues: it is mystery which constitutes the essence of worship, the +power of proselytism. When the cross became the "foolishness" of the +cross, it took possession of the masses. And in our own day, those who +wish to get rid of the supernatural, to enlighten religion, to economize +faith, find themselves deserted, like poets who should declaim against +poetry, or women who should decry love. Faith consists in the acceptance +of the incomprehensible, and even in the pursuit of the impossible, and +is self-intoxicated with its own sacrifices, its own repeated +extravagances. + +It is the forgetfulness of this psychological law which stultifies the +so-called liberal Christianity. It is the realization of it which +constitutes the strength of Catholicism. + +Apparently, no positive religion can survive the supernatural element +which is the reason for its existence. Natural religion seems to be the +tomb of all historic cults. All concrete religions die eventually in the +pure air of philosophy. So long then as the life of nations is in need +of religion as a motive and sanction of morality, as food for faith, +hope, and charity, so long will the masses turn away from pure reason +and naked truth, so long will they adore mystery, so long--and rightly +so--will they rest in faith, the only region where the ideal presents +itself to them in an attractive form. + + * * * * * + +OCTOBER 26TH, 1870.--If ignorance and passion are the foes of popular +morality, it must be confessed that moral indifference is the malady of +the cultivated classes. The modern separation of enlightenment and +virtue, of thought and conscience, of the intellectual aristocracy from +the honest and vulgar crowd, is the greatest danger that can threaten +liberty. When any society produces an increasing number of literary +exquisites, of satirists, skeptics, and _beaux esprits_, some chemical +disorganization of fabric may be inferred. Take, for example, the +century of Augustus and that of Louis XV. Our cynics and railers are +mere egotists, who stand aloof from the common duty, and in their +indolent remoteness are of no service to society against any ill which +may attack it. Their cultivation consists in having got rid of feeling. +And thus they fall farther and farther away from true humanity, and +approach nearer to the demoniacal nature. What was it that +Mephistopheles lacked? Not intelligence, certainly, but goodness. + + * * * * * + +DECEMBER 11TH, 1875.--The ideal which the wife and mother makes for +herself, the manner in which she understands duty and life, contain the +fate of the community. Her faith becomes the star of the conjugal ship, +and her love the animating principle that fashions the future of all +belonging to her. Woman is the salvation or destruction of the family. +She carries its destinies in the folds of her mantle. + + * * * * * + +JANUARY 22D, 1875.--The thirst for truth is not a French passion. In +everything appearance is preferred to reality, the outside to the +inside, the fashion to the material, that which shines to that which +profits, opinion to conscience. That is to say, the Frenchman's centre +of gravity is always outside him,--he is always thinking of others, +playing to the gallery. To him individuals are so many zeros: the unit +which turns them into a number must be added from outside; it may be +royalty, the writer of the day, the favorite newspaper, or any other +temporary master of fashion.--All this is probably the result of an +exaggerated sociability, which weakens the soul's forces of resistance, +destroys its capacity for investigation and personal conviction, and +kills in it the worship of the ideal. + + * * * * * + +DECEMBER 9TH, 1877.--The modern haunters of Parnassus carve urns of +agate and of onyx; but inside the urns what is there?--Ashes. Their work +lacks feeling, seriousness, sincerity, and pathos--in a word, soul and +moral life. I cannot bring myself to sympathize with such a way of +understanding poetry. The talent shown is astonishing, but stuff and +matter are wanting. It is an effort of the imagination to stand +alone--substitute for everything else. We find metaphors, rhymes, music, +color, but not man, not humanity. Poetry of this factitious kind may +beguile one at twenty, but what can one make of it at fifty? It reminds +me of Pergamos, of Alexandria, of all the epochs of decadence when +beauty of form hid poverty of thought and exhaustion of feeling. I +strongly share the repugnance which this poetical school arouses in +simple people. It is as though it only cared to please the world-worn, +the over-subtle, the corrupted, while it ignores all normal healthy +life, virtuous habits, pure affections, steady labor, honesty, and duty. +It is an affectation, and because it is an affectation the school is +struck with sterility. The reader desires in the poem something better +than a juggler in rhyme, or a conjurer in verse; he looks 'to find in +him a painter of life, a being who thinks, loves, and has a conscience, +who feels passion and repentance. + +The true critic strives for a clear vision of things as they are--for +justice and fairness; his effort is to get free from himself, so that he +may in no way disfigure that which he wishes to understand or reproduce. +His superiority to the common herd lies in this effort, even when its +success is only partial. He distrusts his own senses, he sifts his own +impressions, by returning upon them from different sides and at +different times, by comparing, moderating, shading, distinguishing, and +so endeavoring to approach more and more nearly to the formula which +represents the maximum of truth. + +The art which is grand and yet simple is that which presupposes the +greatest elevation both in artist and in public. + + * * * * * + +MAY 19TH, 1878.--Criticism is above all a gift, an intuition, a matter +of tact and _flair_; it cannot be taught or demonstrated,--it is an art. +Critical genius means an aptitude for discerning truth under appearances +or in disguises which conceal it; for discovering it in spite of the +errors of testimony, the frauds of tradition, the dust of time, the loss +or alteration of texts. It is the sagacity of the hunter whom nothing +deceives for long, and whom no ruse can throw off the trail. It is the +talent of the _Juge d'Instruction_ who knows how to interrogate +circumstances, and to extract an unknown secret from a thousand +falsehoods. The true critic can understand everything, but he will be +the dupe of nothing, and to no convention will he sacrifice his duty, +which is to find out and proclaim truth. Competent learning, general +cultivation, absolute probity, accuracy of general view, human sympathy, +and technical capacity,--how many things are necessary to the critic, +without reckoning grace, delicacy, _savoir vivre_, and the gift of happy +phrasemaking! + + * * * * * + +MAY 22D, 1879 (Ascension Day).--Wonderful and delicious weather. Soft, +caressing sunlight,--the air a limpid blue,--twitterings of birds; even +the distant voices of the city have something young and springlike in +them. It is indeed a new birth. The ascension of the Savior of men is +symbolized by the expansion, this heavenward yearning of nature.... I +feel myself born again; all the windows of the soul are clear. Forms, +lines, tints, reflections, sounds, contrasts, and harmonies, the general +play and interchange of things,--it is all enchanting! + +In my courtyard the ivy is green again, the chestnut-tree is full of +leaf, the Persian lilac beside the little fountain is flushed with red +and just about to flower; through the wide openings to the right and +left of the old College of Calvin I see the Salève above the trees of +St. Antoine, the Voirons above the hill of Cologny; while the three +flights of steps which, from landing to landing, lead between two high +walls from the Rue Verdaine to the terrace of the Tranchées, recall to +one's imagination some old city of the south, a glimpse of Perugia or +of Malaga. + +All the bells are ringing. It is the hour of worship. A historical and +religious impression mingles with the picturesque, the musical, the +poetical impressions of the scene. All the peoples of Christendom--all +the churches scattered over the globe--are celebrating at this moment +the glory of the Crucified. + +And what are those many nations doing who have other prophets, and +honor the Divinity in other ways--the Jews, the Mussulmans, the +Buddhists, the Vishnuists, the Guebers? They have other sacred days, +other rites, other solemnities, other beliefs. But all have some +religion, some ideal end for life--all aim at raising man above the +sorrows and smallnesses of the present, and of the individual existence. +All have faith in something greater than themselves, all pray, all bow, +all adore; all see beyond nature, Spirit, and beyond evil, Good. All +bear witness to the Invisible. Here we have the link which binds all +peoples together. All men are equally creatures of sorrow and desire, of +hope and fear. All long to recover some lost harmony with the great +order of things, and to feel themselves approved and blessed by the +Author of the universe. All know what suffering is, and yearn for +happiness. All know what sin is, and feel the need of pardon. + +Christianity, reduced to its original simplicity, is the reconciliation +of the sinner with God, by means of the certainty that God loves in +spite of everything, and that he chastises because he loves. +Christianity furnished a new motive and a new strength for the +achievement of moral perfection. It made holiness attractive by giving +to it the air of filial gratitude. + + * * * * * + +JULY 28TH, 1880.--This afternoon I have had a walk in the sunshine, and +have just come back rejoicing in a renewed communion with nature. The +waters of the Rhone and the Arve, the murmur of the river, the austerity +of its banks, the brilliancy of the foliage, the play of the leaves, the +splendor of the July sunlight, the rich fertility of the fields, the +lucidity of the distant mountains, the whiteness of the glaciers under +the azure serenity of the sky, the sparkle and foam of the mingling +rivers, the leafy masses of the La Bâtie woods,--all and everything +delighted me. It seemed to me as though the years of strength had come +back to me. I was overwhelmed with sensations. I was surprised and +grateful. The universal life carried me on its breast; the summer's +caress went to my heart. Once more my eyes beheld the vast horizons, the +soaring peaks, the blue lakes, the winding valleys, and all the free +outlets of old days. And yet there was no painful sense of longing. The +scene left upon me an indefinable impression, which was neither hope, +nor desire, nor regret, but rather a sense of emotion, of passionate +impulse, mingled with admiration and anxiety. I am conscious at once of +joy and of want; beyond what I possess I see the impossible and the +unattainable; I gauge my own wealth and poverty: in a word, I am and I +am not--my inner state is one of contradiction, because it is one of +transition. + + * * * * * + +APRIL 1OTH, 1881 [he died May 11th].--What dupes we are of our own +desires!... Destiny has two ways of crushing us--by refusing our wishes +and by fulfilling them. But he who only wills what God wills escapes +both catastrophes. "All things work together for his good." + + + + +ANACREON + +(B.C. 562?-477) + + +[Illustration: ANACREON] + +Of the life of this lyric poet we have little exact knowledge. We know +that he was an Ionian Greek, and therefore by racial type a +luxury-loving, music-loving Greek, born in the city of Teos on the coast +of Asia Minor. The year was probably B.C. 562. With a few +fellow-citizens, it is supposed that he fled to Thrace and founded +Abdera when Cyrus the Great, or his general Harpagus, was conquering the +Greek cities of the coast. Abdera, however, was too new to afford +luxurious living, and the singing Ionian soon found his way to more +genial Samos, whither the fortunes of the world then seemed converging. +Polycrates was "tyrant," in the old Greek sense of irresponsible ruler; +but withal so large-minded and far-sighted a man that we may use a trite +comparison and say that under him his island was, to the rest of Greece, +as Florence in the time of Lorenzo the Magnificent was to the rest of +Italy, or Athens in the time of Pericles to the other Hellenic States. +Anacreon became his tutor, and may have been of his council; for +Herodotus says that when Oroetes went to see Polycrates he found him in +the men's apartment with Anacreon the Teian. Another historian says that +he tempered the stern will of the ruler. Still another relates that +Polycrates once presented him with five talents, but that the poet +returned the sum after two nights made sleepless from thinking what he +would do with his riches, saying "it was not worth the care it cost." + +After the murder of Polycrates, Hipparchus, who ruled at Athens, sent a +trireme to fetch the poet. Like his father Pisistratus, Hipparchus +endeavored to further the cause of letters by calling poets to his +court. Simonides of Ceos was there; and Lasus of Hermione, the teacher +of Pindar; with many rhapsodists or minstrels, who edited the poems of +Homer and chanted his lays at the Panathenæa, or high festival of +Athena, which the people celebrated every year with devout and +magnificent show. Amid this brilliant company Anacreon lived and sang +until Hipparchus fell (514) by the famous conspiracy of Harmodius and +Aristogeiton. He then returned to his native Teos, and according to a +legend, died there at the age of eighty-five, choked by a grape-seed. + +Anacreon was a lyrist of the first order. Plato's poet says of him in +the 'Symposium,' "When I hear the verses of Sappho or Anacreon, I set +down my cup for very shame of my own performance." He composed in Greek +somewhat, to use a very free comparison, as Herrick did in English, +expressing the unrefined passion and excesses which he saw, just as the +Devonshire parson preserved the spirit of the country festivals of Old +England in his vivid verse. + +To Anacreon music and poetry were inseparable. The poet of his time +recited his lines with lyre in hand, striking upon it in the measure he +thought best suited to his song. Doubtless the poems of Anacreon were +delivered in this way. His themes were simple,--wine, love, and the +glorification of youth and poetry; but his imagination and poetic +invention so animated every theme that it is the perfect rendering which +we see, not the simplicity of the commonplace idea. His delicacy +preserves him from grossness, and his grace from wantonness. In this +respect his poems are a fair illustration of the Greek sense of +self-limitation, which guided the art instincts of that people and made +them the creators of permanent canons of taste. + +Anacreon had no politics, no earnest interest in the affairs of life, no +morals in the large meaning of that word, no aims reaching further than +the merriment and grace of the moment. Loving luxury and leisure, he was +the follower of a pleasure-loving court. His cares are that the bowl is +empty, that age is joyless, that women tell him he is growing gray. He +is closely paralleled in this by one side of Béranger; but the +Frenchman's soul had a passionately earnest half which the Greek +entirely lacked. Nor is there ever any outbreak of the deep yearning, +the underlying melancholy, which pervades and now and then interrupts, +like a skeleton at the feast, the gayest verses of Omar Khayyam. + +His metres, like his matter, are simple and easy. So imitators, perhaps +as brilliant as the master, have sprung up and produced a mass of songs; +and at this time it remains in doubt whether any complete poem of +Anacreon remains untouched. For this reason the collection is commonly +termed 'Anacreontics'. Some of the poems are referred to the school of +Gaza and the fourth century after Christ, and some to the secular +teachings and refinement of the monks of the Middle Ages. Since the +discovery and publication of the text by Henry Stephens, in 1554, poets +have indulged their lighter fancies in such songs, and a small +literature of delicate trifles now exists under the name of +'Anacreontics' in Italian, German, and English. Bergk's recension of the +poems appeared in 1878. The standard translations, or rather imitations +in English, are those of Cowley and Moore. The Irish poet was not unlike +in nature to the ancient Ionian. Moore's fine voice in the London +drawing-rooms echoes at times the note of Anacreon in the men's quarters +of Polycrates or the symposia of Hipparchus. The joy of feasting and +music, the color of wine, and the scent of roses, alike inspire the +songs of each. + + + DRINKING + + The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, + And drinks, and gapes for drink again, + The plants suck in the earth, and are + With constant drinking fresh and fair; + The sea itself (which one would think + Should have but little need of drink) + Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up, + So filled that they o'erflow the cup. + The busy Sun (and one would guess + By 's drunken fiery face no less) + Drinks up the sea, and, when he's done, + The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun: + They drink and dance by their own light; + They drink and revel all the night. + Nothing in nature's sober found, + But an eternal health goes round. + Fill up the bowl then, fill it high, + Fill all the glasses there; for why + Should every creature drink but I? + Why, man of morals, tell me why? + + --Cowley's Translation. + + + AGE + + Oft am I by the women told, + Poor Anacreon, thou grow'st old! + Look how thy hairs are falling all; + Poor Anacreon, how they fall! + Whether I grow old or no, + By th' effects I do not know; + This I know, without being told, + 'Tis time to live, if I grow old; + 'Tis time short pleasures now to take, + Of little life the best to make, + And manage wisely the last stake. + + Cowley's Translation. + + + THE EPICURE + + + I + + Fill the bowl with rosy wine! + Around our temples roses twine! + And let us cheerfully awhile, + Like the wine and roses, smile. + Crowned with roses, we contemn + Gyges' wealthy diadem. + To-day is ours, what do we fear? + To-day is ours; we have it here: + Let's treat it kindly, that it may + Wish, at least, with us to stay. + Let's banish business, banish sorrow; + To the gods belongs to-morrow. + + + II + + Underneath this myrtle shade, + On flowery beds supinely laid, + With odorous oils my head o'erflowing, + And around it roses growing, + What should I do but drink away + The heat and troubles of the day? + In this more than kingly state + Love himself shall on me wait. + Fill to me, Love, nay fill it up; + And, mingled, cast into the cup + Wit, and mirth, and noble fires, + Vigorous health, and gay desires. + The wheel of life no less will stay + In a smooth than rugged way: + Since it equally doth flee, + Let the motion pleasant be. + Why do we precious ointments show'r? + Noble wines why do we pour? + Beauteous flowers why do we spread, + Upon the monuments of the dead? + Nothing they but dust can show, + Or bones that hasten to be so. + Crown me with roses while I live, + Now your wines and ointments give + After death I nothing crave; + Let me alive my pleasures have, + All are Stoics in the grave. + + Cowley's Translation. + + + GOLD + + A mighty pain to love it is, + And 'tis a pain that pain to miss; + But, of all pains, the greatest pain + It is to love, but love in vain. + Virtue now, nor noble blood, + Nor wit by love is understood; + Gold alone does passion move, + Gold monopolizes love; + A curse on her, and on the man + Who this traffic first began! + A curse on him who found the ore! + A curse on him who digged the store! + A curse on him who did refine it! + A curse on him who first did coin it! + A curse, all curses else above, + On him who used it first in love! + Gold begets in brethren hate; + Gold in families debate; + Gold does friendship separate; + Gold does civil wars create. + These the smallest harms of it! + Gold, alas! does love beget. + + Cowley's Translation. + + + THE GRASSHOPPER + + Happy Insect! what can be + In happiness compared to thee? + Fed with nourishment divine, + The dewy Morning's gentle wine! + Nature waits upon thee still, + And thy verdant cup does fill; + 'Tis filled wherever thou dost tread, + Nature's self's thy Ganymede. + Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing; + Happier than the happiest king! + All the fields which thou dost see, + All the plants, belong to thee; + All that summer hours produce, + Fertile made with early juice. + Man for thee does sow and plow; + Farmer he, and landlord thou! + Thou dost innocently joy; + Nor does thy luxury destroy; + The shepherd gladly heareth thee, + More harmonious than he. + Thee country hinds with gladness hear, + Prophet of the ripened year! + Thee Phoebus loves, and does inspire; + Phoebus is himself thy sire. + To thee, of all things upon Earth, + Life's no longer than thy mirth. + Happy insect, happy thou! + Dost neither age nor winter know; + But, when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung + Thy fill, the flowery leaves among, + (Voluptuous, and wise withal, + Epicurean animal!) + Sated with thy summer feast, + Thou retir'st to endless rest. + + Cowley's Translation, + + + THE SWALLOW + + Foolish prater, what dost thou + So early at my window do, + With thy tuneless serenade? + Well 't had been had Tereus made + Thee as dumb as Philomel; + There his knife had done but well. + In thy undiscovered nest + Thou dost all the winter rest, + And dreamest o'er thy summer joys, + Free from the stormy season's noise: + Free from th' ill thou'st done to me; + Who disturbs or seeks out thee? + Hadst thou all the charming notes + Of the wood's poetic throats, + All thou art could never pay + What thou hast ta'en from me away. + Cruel bird! thou'st ta'en away + A dream out of my arms to-day; + A dream that ne'er must equaled be + By all that waking eyes may see. + Thou, this damage to repair, + Nothing half so sweet or fair, + Nothing half so good, canst bring, + Though men say thou bring'st the Spring. + + Cowley's Translation. + + + THE POET'S CHOICE + + If hoarded gold possessed a power + To lengthen life's too fleeting hour, + And purchase from the hand of death + A little span, a moment's breath, + How I would love the precious ore! + And every day should swell my store; + That when the fates would send their minion, + To waft me off on shadowy pinion, + I might some hours of life obtain, + And bribe him back to hell again. + But since we ne'er can charm away + The mandate of that awful day, + Why do we vainly weep at fate, + And sigh for life's uncertain date? + The light of gold can ne'er illume + The dreary midnight of the tomb! + And why should I then pant for treasures? + Mine be the brilliant round of pleasures; + The goblet rich, the hoard of friends, + Whose flowing souls the goblet blends! + + Moore's Translation. + + + DRINKING + + I care not for the idle state + Of Persia's king, the rich, the great! + I envy not the monarch's throne, + Nor wish the treasured gold my own. + But oh! be mine the rosy braid, + The fervor of my brows to shade; + Be mine the odors, richly sighing, + Amid my hoary tresses flying. + To-day I'll haste to quaff my wine, + As if to-morrow ne'er should shine; + But if to-morrow comes, why then-- + I'll haste to quaff my wine again. + And thus while all our days are bright, + Nor time has dimmed their bloomy light, + Let us the festal hours beguile + With mantling cup and cordial smile; + And shed from every bowl of wine + The richest drop on Bacchus's shrine! + For Death may come, with brow unpleasant, + May come when least we wish him present, + And beckon to the sable shore, + And grimly bid us--drink no more! + + Moore's Translation. + + + A LOVER'S SIGH + + The Phrygian rock that braves the storm + Was once a weeping matron's form; + And Procne, hapless, frantic maid, + Is now a swallow in the shade. + Oh that a mirror's form were mine, + To sparkle with that smile divine; + And like my heart I then should be, + Reflecting thee, and only thee! + Or could I be the robe which holds + That graceful form within its folds; + Or, turned into a fountain, lave + Thy beauties in my circling wave; + Or, better still, the zone that lies + Warm to thy breast, and feels its sighs! + Or like those envious pearls that show + So faintly round that neck of snow! + Yes, I would be a happy gem, + Like them to hang, to fade like them. + What more would thy Anacreon be? + Oh, anything that touches thee, + Nay, sandals for those airy feet-- + Thus to be pressed by thee were sweet! + + Moore's Translation. + + + + +HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN + +(1805-1875) + +BY BENJAMIN W. WELLS + + +The place of Hans Christian Andersen in literature is that of the +"Children's Poet," though his best poetry is prose. He was born in the +ancient Danish city of Odense, on April 2d, 1805, of poor and shiftless +parents. He had little regular instruction, and few childish associates. +His youthful imagination was first stimulated by La Fontaine's 'Fables' +and the 'Arabian Nights,' and he showed very early a dramatic instinct, +trying to act and even to imitate Shakespeare, though, as he says, +"hardly able to spell a single word correctly." It was therefore natural +that the visit of a dramatic company to Odense, in 1818, should fire his +fancy to seek his theatrical fortune in Copenhagen; whither he went in +September, 1819, with fifteen dollars in his pocket and a letter of +introduction to a danseuse at the Royal Theatre, who not unnaturally +took her strange visitor for a lunatic, and showed him the door. For +four years he labored diligently, suffered acutely, and produced nothing +of value; though he gained some influential friends, who persuaded the +king to grant him a scholarship for three years, that he might prepare +for the university. + +Though he was neither a brilliant nor a docile pupil, he did not exhaust +the generous patience of his friends, who in 1829 enabled him to publish +by subscription his first book, 'A Journey on Foot from Holm Canal to +the East Point of Amager' a fantastic arabesque, partly plagiarized and +partly parodied from the German romanticists, but with a naïveté that +might have disarmed criticism. + +In 1831 there followed a volume of poems, the sentimental and rather +mawkish 'Fantasies and Sketches,' product of a journey in Jutland and of +a silly love affair. This book was so harshly criticized that he +resolved to seek a refuge and new literary inspiration in a tour to +Germany; for all through his life, traveling was Andersen's stimulus and +distraction, so that he compares himself, later, to a pendulum "bound +to go backward and forward, tic, toc, tic, toc, till the clock stops, +and down I lie." + +[Illustration: HANS CHR. ANDERSEN.] + +This German tour inspired his first worthy book, 'Silhouettes,' with +some really admirable pages of description. His success encouraged him +to attempt the drama again, where he failed once more, and betook +himself for relief to Paris and Italy, with a brief stay in the Jura +Mountains, which is delightfully described in his novel, 'O.T.' + +Italy had on him much the same clarifying effect that it had on Goethe; +and his next book, the novel 'Improvisatore' (1835), achieved and +deserved a European recognition. Within ten years the book was +translated into six languages. It bears the mark of its date in its +romantic sentiments. There is indeed no firm character-drawing, here or +in any of his novels; but the book still claims attention for its +exquisite descriptions of Italian life and scenery. + +The year 1835 saw also Andersen's first essay in the 'Wonder Stories' +which were to give him his lasting title to grateful remembrance. He did +not think highly of this work at the time, though his little volume +contained the now-classic 'Tinderbox,' and 'Big Claus and Little Claus.' +Indeed, he always chafed a little at the modest fame of a writer for +children; but he continued for thirty-seven years to publish those +graceful fancies, which in their little domain still hold the first +rank, and certainly gave the freest scope to Andersen's qualities, while +they masked his faults and limitations. + +He turned again from this "sleight of hand with Fancy's golden apples," +to the novel, in the 'O.T.' (1836), which marks no advance on the +'Improvisatore'; and in the next year he published his best romance, +'Only a Fiddler,' which is still charming for its autobiographical +touches, its genuine humor, and its deep pathos. At the time, this book +assured his European reputation; though it has less interest for us +to-day than the 'Tales,' or the 'Picture Book without Pictures' (1840), +where, perhaps more than anywhere else in his work, the child speaks +with all the naïveté of his nature. + +A journey to the East was reflected in 'A Poet's Bazaar' (1842); and +these years contain also his last unsuccessful dramatic efforts, 'The +King Dreams' and 'The New Lying-in Room.' In 1843 he was in Paris, in +1844 in Germany, and in the next year he extended his wanderings to +Italy and England, where Mary Howitt's translations had assured him a +welcome. Ten years later he revisited England as the guest of Dickens +at Gadshill. + +The failure of an epic, 'Ahasuerus' (1847), and of a novel, 'The Two +Baronesses' (1849), made him turn with more interest to wonder tales and +fairy dramas, which won a considerable success; and when the political +troubles of 1848 directed his wanderings toward Sweden, he made from +them 'I Sverrig' (In Sweden: 1849), his most exquisite book of travels. +As Europe grew peaceful again he resumed his indefatigable wanderings, +visiting Germany, France, Italy, Switzerland, Spain, Bohemia, and +England; printing between 1852 and 1862 nine little volumes of stories, +the mediocre but successful 'In Spain' (1860), and his last novel, 'To +Be or Not To Be' (1857), which reflects the religious speculations of +his later years. + +He was now in comparatively easy circumstances, and passed the last +fifteen years of his life unharassed by criticism, and surrounded with +the 'honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,' that should accompany +old age. It was not until 1866 that he made himself a home; and even at +sixty-one he said the idea 'positively frightened him--he knew he should +run away from it as soon as ever the first warm sunbeam struck him, like +any other bird of passage.' + +In 1869 he celebrated his literary jubilee. In 1872 he finished his last +'Stories.' That year he met with an accident in Innsbruck from which he +never recovered. Kind friends eased his invalid years; and so general +was the grief at his illness that the children of the United States +collected a sum of money for his supposed necessities, which at his +request took the form of books for his library. A few months later, +after a brief and painless illness, he died, August 1st, 1875. His +admirers had already erected a statue in his honor, and the State gave +him a magnificent funeral; but his most enduring monument is that which +his 'Wonder Tales' are still building all around the world. + +The character of Andersen is full of curious contrasts. Like the French +fabulist, La Fontaine, he was a child all his life, and often a spoiled +child; yet he joined to childlike simplicity no small share of worldly +wisdom. Constant travel made him a shrewd observer of detail, but his +self-absorption kept him from sympathy with the broad political +aspirations of his generation. + +In the judgment of his friends and critics, his autobiographical 'Story +of My Life' is strangely unjust, and he never understood the limitations +of his genius. He was not fond of children, nor personally attractive to +them, though his letters to them are charming. + +In personal appearance he was limp, ungainly, awkward, and odd, with +long lean limbs, broad flat hands, and feet of striking size. His eyes +were small and deep-set, his nose very large, his neck very long; but he +masked his defects by studied care in dress, and always fancied he +looked distinguished, delighting to display his numerous decorations on +his evening dress in complacent profusion. + +On Andersen's style there is a remarkably acute study by his +fellow-countryman Brandes, in 'Kritiker og Portraite' (Critiques and +Portraits), and a useful comment in Boyesen's 'Scandinavian Literature.' +When not perverted by his translators, it is perhaps better suited than +any other to the comprehension of children. His syntax and rhetoric are +often faulty; and in the 'Tales' he does not hesitate to take liberties +even with German, if he can but catch the vivid, darting imagery of +juvenile fancy, the "ohs" and "ahs" of the nursery, its changing +intonations, its fears, its smiles, its personal appeals, and its +venerable devices to spur attention and kindle sympathy. Action, or +imitation, takes the place of description. We hear the trumpeter's +_taratantara_ and "the pattering rain on the leaves, _rum dum dum, rum +dum dum_," The soldier "comes marching along, _left, right, left, +right_." No one puts himself so wholly in the child's place and looks at +nature so wholly with his eyes as Andersen. "If you hold one of those +burdock leaves before your little body it's just like an apron, and if +you put it on your head it's almost as good as an umbrella, it's so +big." Or he tells you that when the sun shone on the flax, and the +clouds watered it, "it was just as nice for it as it is for the little +children to be washed and then get a kiss from mother: that makes them +prettier; of course it does." And here, as Brandes remarks, every +right-minded mamma stops and kisses the child, and their hearts are +warmer for that day's tale. + +The starting-point of this art is personification. To the child's fancy +the doll is as much alive as the cat, the broom as the bird, and even +the letters in the copy-book can stretch themselves. On this +foundation he builds myths that tease by a certain semblance of +rationality,--elegiac, more often sentimental, but at their best, like +normal children, without strained pathos or forced sympathy. + +Such personification has obvious dramatic and lyric elements; but +Andersen lacked the technique of poetic and dramatic art, and marred his +prose descriptions, both in novels and books of travel, by an intrusive +egotism and lyric exaggeration. No doubt, therefore, the most permanent +part of his work is that which popular instinct has selected, the +'Picture Book without Pictures,' the 'Tales and Stories'; and among +these, those will last longest that have least of the lyric and most of +the dramatic element. + +Nearly all of Andersen's books are translated in ten uniform but +unnumbered volumes, published by Houghton, Mifflin and Company. Of the +numerous translations of the 'Tales,' Mary Howitt's (1846) and Sommer's +(1893) are the best, though far from faultless. + +The 'Life of Hans Christian Andersen' by R. Nisbet Bain (New York, 1895) +is esteemed the best. + +[Illustration: signature] + + + + +THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER + +From 'Collected Fairy Tales,' newly translated + + +There were once twenty-five tin soldiers, who were all brothers, for +they were cast out of one old tin spoon. They held their muskets, and +their faces were turned to the enemy; red and blue, ever so fine, were +the uniforms. The first thing they heard in this world, when the cover +was taken from the box where they lay, were the words, "Tin soldiers!" A +little boy shouted it, and clapped his hands. He had got them because it +was his birthday, and now he set them up on the table. Each soldier was +just like the other, only one was a little different. He had but one +leg, for he had been cast last, and there was not enough tin. But he +stood on his one leg just as firm as the others on two, so he was just +the one to be famous. + +On the table where they were set up stood a lot of other playthings; but +what caught your eye was a pretty castle of paper. Through the little +windows you could see right into the halls. Little trees stood in front, +around a bit of looking-glass which was meant for a lake. Wax swans swam +on it and were reflected in it. That was all very pretty, but still the +prettiest thing was a little girl who stood right in the castle gate. +She was cut out of paper too, but she had a silk dress, and a little +narrow blue ribbon across her shoulders, on which was a sparkling star +as big as her whole face. The little girl lifted her arms gracefully in +the air, for she was a dancer; and then she lifted one leg so high that +the tin soldier could not find it at all, and thought that she had only +one leg, just like himself. + +"That would be the wife for me," thought he, "but she is too fine for +me. She lives in a castle, and I have only a box, which I have to share +with twenty-four. That is no house for her. But I will see whether I can +make her acquaintance." Then he lay down at full length behind a +snuff-box which was on the table. From there he could watch the trig +little lady who kept standing on one leg without losing her balance. +When evening came, the other tin soldiers were all put in their box, and +the people in the house went to bed. Then the playthings began to play, +first at "visiting," then at "war" and at "dancing." The tin soldiers +rattled in their box, for they would have liked to join in it, but they +could not get the cover off. The nutcracker turned somersaults, and the +pencil scrawled over the slate. There was such a racket that the +canary-bird woke up and began to sing, and that in verses. The only ones +that did not stir were the tin soldier and the little dancer. She stood +straight on tiptoe and stretched up both arms; he was just as steadfast +on his one leg. He did not take his eyes from her a moment. + +Now it struck twelve, and bang! up went the cover of the snuff-box, but +it wasn't tobacco in it: no, but a little black Troll. It was a +trick box. + +"Tin soldier!" said the Troll, "will you stare your eyes out?" But the +tin soldier made believe he did not hear. "You wait till morning!" said +the Troll. + +When morning came, and the children got up, the tin soldier was put on +the window ledge; and whether it was the Troll, or a gust of wind, all +at once the window flew open and the tin soldier fell head first from +the third story. That was an awful fall. He stretched his leg straight +up, and stuck with his bayonet and cap right between the paving-stones. + +The maid and the little boy came right down to hunt for him, but they +couldn't see him, though they came so near that they almost trod on him. +If the tin soldier had called "Here I am," they surely would have found +him; but since he was in uniform he did not think it proper to +call aloud. + +Now it began to rain. The drops chased one another. It was a regular +shower. When that was over, two street boys came along. + +"Hallo!" said one, "There's a tin soldier. He must be off and sail." + +Then they made a boat out of a newspaper, put the tin soldier in it, and +made him sail down the gutter. Both boys ran beside it, and clapped +their hands. Preserve us! What waves there were in the gutter, and what +a current! It must have rained torrents. The paper boat rocked up and +down, and sometimes it whirled around so that the tin soldier shivered. +But he remained steadfast, did not lose color, looked straight ahead and +held his musket firm. + +All at once the boat plunged under a long gutter-bridge. It was as dark +there as it had been in his box. + +"Where am I going now?" thought he. "Yes, yes, that is the Troll's +fault. Oh! if the little lady were only in the boat, I would not care if +it were twice as dark." + +At that instant there came a great water-rat who lived under the +gutter-bridge. + +"Have you a pass?" said the rat. "Show me your pass." + +But the tin soldier kept still, and only held his musket the firmer. The +boat rushed on, and the rat behind. Oh! how he gnashed his teeth, and +called to the sticks and straws:-- + +"Stop him! Stop him! He has not paid toll. He has showed no pass." + +But the current got stronger and stronger. Before he got to the end of +the bridge the tin soldier could see daylight, but he heard also a +rushing noise that might frighten a brave man's heart. Just think! at +the end of the bridge the gutter emptied into a great canal, which for +him was as dangerous as for us to sail down a great waterfall. + +He was so near it already that he could not stop. The boat went down. +The poor tin soldier held himself as straight as he could. No one should +say of him that he had ever blinked his eyes. The boat whirled three or +four times and filled with water. It had to sink. The tin soldier stood +up to his neck in water, and deeper, deeper sank the boat. The paper +grew weaker and weaker. Now the waves went over the soldier's head. Then +he thought of the pretty little dancer whom he never was to see again, +and there rang in the tin soldier's ears:-- + + "Farewell, warrior! farewell! + Death shalt thou stiffer." + +Now the paper burst in two, and the tin soldier fell through,--but in +that minute he was swallowed by a big fish. + +Oh! wasn't it dark in there. It was worse even than under the +gutter-bridge, and besides, so cramped. But the tin soldier was +steadfast, and lay at full length, musket in hand. + +The fish rushed around and made the most fearful jumps. At last he was +quite still, and something went through him like a lightning flash. Then +a bright light rushed in, and somebody called aloud, "The tin soldier!" +The fish had been caught, brought to market, sold, and been taken to the +kitchen, where the maid had slit it up with a big knife. She caught the +soldier around the body and carried him into the parlor, where everybody +wanted to see such a remarkable man who had traveled about in a fish's +belly. But the tin soldier was not a bit proud. They put him on the +table, and there--well! what strange things do happen in the world--the +tin soldier was in the very same room that he had been in before. He saw +the same children, and the same playthings were on the table, the +splendid castle with the pretty little dancer; she was still standing on +one leg, and had the other high in the air. She was steadfast, too. That +touched the tin soldier so that he could almost have wept tin tears, but +that would not have been proper. He looked at her and she looked at him, +but they said nothing at all. + +Suddenly one of the little boys seized the tin soldier and threw him +right into the tile-stove, although he had no reason to. It was surely +the Troll in the box who was to blame. + +The tin soldier stood in full light and felt a fearful heat; but whether +that came from the real fire, or from his glowing love, he could not +tell. All the color had faded from him; but whether this had happened on +the journey, or whether it came from care, no one could say. He looked +at the little girl and she looked at him. He felt that he was melting, +but still he stood steadfast, musket in hand. Then a door opened. A +whiff of air caught the dancer, and she flew like a sylph right into the +tile-stove to the tin soldier, blazed up in flame, and was gone. Then +the tin soldier melted to a lump, and when the maid next day took out +the ashes, she found him as a little tin heart. But of the dancer only +the star was left, and that was burnt coal-black. + + + + +THE TEAPOT + +From 'Riverside Literature Series': 1891, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + + +There was a proud Teapot, proud of being porcelain, proud of its long +spout, proud of its broad handle. It had something before and +behind--the spout before, the handle behind--and that was what it talked +about. But it did not talk of its lid--that was cracked, it was riveted, +it had faults; and one does not talk about one's faults--there are +plenty of others to do that. The cups, the cream-pot, the sugar-bowl, +the whole tea-service would be reminded much more of the lid's weakness, +and talk about that, than of the sound handle and the remarkable spout. +The Teapot knew it. + +"I know you," it said within itself, "I know well enough, too, my fault; +and I am well aware that in that very thing is seen my humility, my +modesty. We all have faults, but then one also has a talent. The cups +get a handle, the sugar-bowl a lid; I get both, and one thing besides in +front which they never got,--I get a spout, and that makes me a queen on +the tea-table. The sugar-bowl and cream-pot are good-looking serving +maids; but I am the one who gives, yes, the one high in council. I +spread abroad a blessing among thirsty mankind. In my insides the +Chinese leaves are worked up in the boiling, tasteless water." + +All this said the Teapot in its fresh young life. It stood on the table +that was spread for tea, it was lifted by a very delicate hand; but the +very delicate hand was awkward, the Teapot fell. The spout snapped off, +the handle snapped off; the lid was no worse to speak of--the worst had +been spoken of that. The Teapot lay in a swoon on the floor, while the +boiling water ran out of it. It was a horrid shame, but the worst was +that they jeered at it; they jeered at it, and not at the awkward hand. + +"I never shall lose the memory of that!" said the Teapot, when it +afterward talked to itself of the course of its life. "I was called an +invalid, and placed in a corner, and the day after was given away to a +woman who begged victuals. I fell into poverty, and stood dumb both +outside and in; but there, as I stood, began my better life. One is one +thing and becomes quite another. Earth was placed in me: for a Teapot +that is the same as being buried, but in the earth was placed a flower +bulb. Who placed it there, who gave it, I know not; given it was, and it +took the place of the Chinese leaves and the boiling water, the broken +handle and spout. And the bulb lay in the earth, the bulb lay in me, it +became my heart, my living heart, such as I never before had. There was +life in me, power and might. My pulses beat, the bulb put forth sprouts, +it was the springing up of thoughts and feelings; they burst forth in +flower. I saw it, I bore it, I forgot myself in its delight. Blessed is +it to forget one's self in another. The bulb gave me no thanks, it did +not think of me--it was admired and praised. I was so glad at that: how +happy must it have been! One day I heard it said that it ought to have a +better pot. I was thumped on my back--that was rather hard to bear; but +the flower was put in a better pot--and I was thrown away in the yard, +where I lie as an old crock. But I have the memory: _that_ I can +never lose." + + + + +THE UGLY DUCKLING + +From 'Riverside Literature Series': 1891, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + + +I--THE DUCKLING IS BORN + + +It was glorious in the country. It was summer; the cornfields were +yellow, the oats were green, the hay had been put up in stacks in the +green meadows; and the stork went about on his long red legs, and +chattered Egyptian, for this was the language he had learned from his +mother. All around the fields and meadows were great woods, and in the +midst of these woods deep lakes. Yes, it was right glorious in +the country. + +In the midst of the sunshine there lay an old farm, with deep canals +about it; and from the wall down to the water grew great burdocks, so +high that little children could stand upright under the tallest of them. +It was just as wild there as in the deepest wood, and here sat a Duck +upon her nest. She had to hatch her ducklings, but she was almost tired +out before the little ones came; and she seldom had visitors. The other +ducks liked better to swim about in the canals than to run up to sit +under a burdock and gabble with her. + +At last one egg-shell after another burst open. "Pip! pip!" each cried, +and in all the eggs there were little things that stuck out their heads. + +"Quack! quack!" said the Duck, and they all came quacking out as fast as +they could, looking all around them under the green leaves; and the +mother let them look as much as they liked, for green is good for +the eye. + +"How wide the world is!" said all the young ones; for they certainly had +much more room now than when they were inside the eggs. + +"D'ye think this is all the world?" said the mother. "That stretches far +across the other side of the garden, quite into the parson's field; but +I have never been there yet. I hope you are all together," and she stood +up. "No, I have not all. The largest egg still lies there. How long is +that to last? I am really tired of it." And so she sat down again. + +"Well, how goes it?" asked an old Duck who had come to pay her a visit. + +"It lasts a long time with this one egg," said the Duck who sat there. +"It will not open. Now, only look at the others! They are the prettiest +little ducks I ever saw. They are all like their father: the rogue, he +never comes to see me." + +"Let me see the egg which will not burst," said the old Duck. "You may +be sure it is a turkey's egg. I was once cheated in that way, and had +much care and trouble with the young ones, for they are afraid of the +water. Must I say it to you? I could not make them go in. I quacked, and +I clacked, but it was no use. Let me see the egg. Yes, that's a turkey's +egg. Let it lie there, and do you teach the other children to swim." + +"I think I will sit on it a little longer," said the Duck. "I've sat so +long now that I can sit a few days more." + +"Just as you please," said the old Duck; and she went away. + +At last the great egg burst. "Pip! pip!" said the little one, and crept +forth. He was so big and ugly. The Duck looked at him. + +"It's a very large Duckling," said she. "None of the others looks like +that: it really must be a turkey chick! Well, we shall soon find out. +Into the water shall he go, even if I have to push him in." + + +II--HOW THE DUCKLING WAS TREATED AT HOME + + +The next day it was bright, beautiful weather; the sun shone on all the +green burdocks. The Mother-Duck, with all her family, went down to the +canal. Splash! she jumped into the water. "Quack! quack!" she said, and +one duckling after another plumped in. The water closed over their +heads, but they came up in an instant, and swam off finely; their legs +went of themselves, and they were all in the water; even the ugly gray +Duckling swam with them. + +"No, it's not a turkey," said she: "look how well he uses his legs, how +straight he holds himself. It is my own child! On the whole he's quite +pretty, when one looks at him rightly. Quack! quack! come now with me, +and I'll lead you out into the world, and present you in the duck-yard; +but keep close to me all the time, so that no one may tread on you, and +look out for the cats." + +And so they came into the duck-yard. There was a terrible row going on +in there, for two families were fighting about an eel's head, and so the +cat got it. + +"See, that's the way it goes in the world!" said the Mother-Duck; and +she whetted her beak, for she too wanted the eel's head. "Only use your +legs," she said. "See that you can bustle about, and bend your necks +before the old Duck yonder. She's the grandest of all here; she's of +Spanish blood--that's why she's so fat; and do you see? she has a red +rag around her leg; that's something very, very fine, and the greatest +mark of honor a duck can have: it means that one does not want to lose +her, and that she's known by the animals and by men too. Hurry! +hurry!--don't turn in your toes, a well brought-up duck turns it's toes +quite out, just like father and mother,--so! Now bend your necks and +say 'Quack!'" + +And they did so; but the other ducks round about looked at them, and +said quite boldly,--"Look there! now we're to have this crowd too! as if +there were not enough of us already! And--fie!--how that Duckling yonder +looks: we won't stand that!" And at once one Duck flew at him, and bit +him in the neck. + +"Let him alone," said the mother: "he is not doing anything to any one." + +"Yes, but he's too large and odd," said the Duck who had bitten him, +"and so he must be put down." + +"Those are pretty children the mother has," said the old Duck with the +rag round her leg. "They're all pretty but that one; that is rather +unlucky. I wish she could have that one over again." + +"That cannot be done, my lady," said the Mother-Duck. "He is not pretty, +but he has a really good temper, and swims as well as any of the others; +yes, I may even say it, a little better. I think he will grow up pretty, +perhaps in time he will grow a little smaller; he lay too long in the +egg, and therefore he has not quite the right shape." And she pinched +him in the neck, and smoothed his feathers. "Besides, he is a drake," +she said, "and so it does not matter much. I think he will be very +strong: he makes his way already." + +"The other ducklings are graceful enough," said the old Duck. "Make +yourself at home; and if you find an eel's head, you may bring it +to me." + +And now they were at home. But the poor Duckling who had crept last out +of the egg, and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and made fun of, +as much by the ducks as by the chickens. + +"He is too big!" they all said. And the turkey-cock, who had been born +with spurs, and so thought he was an emperor, blew himself up, like a +ship in full sail, and bore straight down upon him; then he gobbled and +grew quite red in the face. The poor Duckling did not know where he +dared stand or walk; he was quite unhappy because he looked ugly, and +was the sport of the whole duck-yard. + +So it went on the first day; and then it grew worse and worse. The poor +Duckling was hunted about by every one; even his brothers and sisters +were quite angry with him, and said, "If the cat would only catch you, +you ugly creature!" And the ducks bit him, and the chickens beat him, +and the girl who had to feed the poultry kicked at him with her foot. + + +III--OUT ON THE MOOR + + +Then he ran and flew over the fence, and the little birds in the bushes +flew up in fear. + +"That is because I am so ugly!" thought the Duckling; and he shut his +eyes, but flew on further; and so he came out into the great moor, where +the wild ducks lived. Here he lay the whole night long, he was so +tired and sad. + +Toward morning the wild ducks flew up, and looked at their new mate. + +"What sort of a one are you?" they asked; and the Duckling turned about +to each, and bowed as well as he could. "You are really very ugly!" said +the Wild Ducks. "But that is all the same to us, so long as you do not +marry into our family." + +Poor thing! he certainly did not think of marrying, and only dared ask +leave to lie among the reeds and drink some of the swamp water. + +There he lay two whole days; then came thither two wild geese, or, more +truly, two wild ganders. It was not long since each had crept out of an +egg, and that's why they were so saucy. + +"Listen, comrade," said one of them. "You're so ugly that I like you. +Will you go with us, and become a bird of passage? Near here is another +moor, where are a few sweet lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and all +able to say 'Quack!' You've a chance of making your fortune, ugly as +you are." + +"Piff! paff!" sounded through the air; and both the ganders fell down +dead in the reeds, and the water became blood-red. "Piff! paff!" it +sounded again, and the whole flock of wild geese flew up from the reeds. +And then there was another report. A great hunt was going on. The +gunners lay around in the moor, and some were even sitting up in the +branches of the trees, which spread far over the reeds. The blue smoke +rose like clouds in among the dark trees, and hung over the water; and +the hunting dogs came--splash, splash!--into the mud, and the rushes and +reeds bent down on every side. That was a fright for the poor Duckling! +He turned his head to put it under his wing; and at that very moment a +frightful great dog stood close by the Duckling. His tongue hung far out +of his mouth, and his eyes glared horribly. He put his nose close to the +Duckling, showed his sharp teeth, and--splash, splash!--on he went +without seizing it. + +"Oh, Heaven be thanked!" sighed the Duckling. "I am so ugly that even +the dog does not like to bite me!" + +And so he lay quite quiet, while the shots rattled through the reeds and +gun after gun was fired. At last, late in the day, all was still: but +the poor little thing did not dare to rise up; he waited several hours +still before he looked around, and then hurried away out of the moor as +fast as he could. He ran on over field and meadow; there was a storm, so +that he had hard work to get away. + + +IV--IN THE PEASANT'S HUT + + +Towards evening the Duckling came to a peasant's poor little hut: it was +so tumbled down that it did not itself know on which side it should +fall; and that's why it stood up. The storm whistled around the Duckling +in such a way that he had to sit down to keep from blowing away; and the +wind blew worse and worse. Then he noticed that one of the hinges of the +door had given way, and the door hung so slanting that he could slip +through the crack into the room; and that is what he did. + +Here lived an old woman, with her Cat and her Hen. And the Cat, whom she +called Sonnie, could arch his back and purr; he could even give out +sparks--but for that, one had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The Hen +had quite small, short legs, and therefore she was called Chickabiddy +Shortshanks; she laid good eggs, and the woman loved her as her +own child. + +In the morning they noticed at once the strange Duckling, and the Cat +began to purr and the Hen to cluck. + +"What's this?" said the woman, and looked all around; but she could not +see well, and therefore she thought the Duckling was a fat duck that had +strayed. "This is a rare prize!" she said. "Now I shall have duck's +eggs. I hope it is not a drake. We must try that." + +And so the Duckling was taken on trial for three weeks, but no eggs +came. And the Cat was master of the house, and the Hen was the lady, and +always said "We and the world!" for they thought they were half the +world, and by far the better half. It seemed to the Duckling that one +might have another mind, but the Hen would not allow it. + +"Can you lay eggs?" + +"No." + +"Then will you hold your tongue!" + +And the Cat said, "Can you curve your back, and purr, and give out +sparks?" + +"No." + +"Then you will please have no opinion of your own when sensible folks +are speaking!" + +And the Duckling sat in a corner and was in low spirits; then he began +to think of the fresh air and the sunshine; and he was seized with such +a strange longing to swim on the water, that he could not help telling +the Hen of it. + +"What are you thinking of?" cried the Hen. "You have nothing to do, +that's why you have these fancies. Lay eggs, or purr, and they will +pass over." + +"But it is so charming to swim in the water," said the Duckling, "so +nice to feel it go over one's head, and to dive down to the bottom!" + +"Yes, that's a fine thing, truly," said the Hen. "You are clean gone +crazy. Ask the Cat about it,--he's the cleverest thing I know,--ask him +if he likes to swim in the water, or to dive down: I won't speak about +myself. Ask our mistress herself, the old woman; no one in the world +knows more than she. Do you think she wants to swim, and let the water +close above her head?" + +"You don't understand me," said the Duckling. + +"We don't understand you! Then pray who is to understand you? You surely +don't pretend to be cleverer than the Cat and the woman--I won't say +anything of myself. Don't make a fool of yourself, child, and thank your +Maker for all the good you have. Are you not come into a warm room, and +have you not folks about you from whom you can learn something? But you +are a goose, and it is not pleasant to have you about. You may believe +me, I speak for your good. I tell you things you won't like, and by that +one may always know one's true friends! Only take care that you learn to +lay eggs, or to purr, and to give out sparks!" + +"I think I will go out into the wide world," said the Duckling. + +"Yes, do go," replied the Hen. + +And so the Duckling went away. He swam on the water, and dived, but he +was shunned by every creature because he was so ugly. + + +V--WHAT BECAME OF THE DUCKLING + + +Now came the fall of the year. The leaves in the wood turned yellow and +brown; the wind caught them so that they danced about, and up in the air +it was very cold. The clouds hung low, heavy with hail and snow-flakes, +and on the fence stood the raven, crying "Croak! croak!" for mere cold; +yes, one could freeze fast if one thought about it. The poor little +Duckling certainly had not a good time. One evening--the sun was just +going down in fine style--there came a whole flock of great handsome +birds out of the bushes; they were shining white, with long, supple +necks; they were swans. They uttered a very strange cry, spread forth +their glorious great wings, and flew away from that cold region to +warmer lands, to fair open lakes. They mounted so high, so high! and the +ugly Duckling had such a strange feeling as he saw them! He turned round +and round in the water like a wheel, stretched out his neck towards +them, and uttered a cry, so high, so strange, that he was frightened as +he heard it. + +Oh! he could not forget those beautiful, happy birds; and as soon as he +could see them no longer, he dived down to the very bottom, and when he +came up again, he was quite beside himself. He did not know what the +birds were, nor where they were flying to; but he loved them more than +he had ever loved any one. He did not envy them at all. How could he +think of wishing to have such loveliness as they had? He would have been +glad if only the ducks would have let him be among them--the poor, +ugly creature! + +And the winter grew so cold, so cold! The Duckling had to swim about in +the water, to keep it from freezing over; but every night the hole in +which he swam about became smaller and smaller. It froze so hard that +the icy cover sounded; and the Duckling had to use his legs all the time +to keep the hole from freezing tight. At last he became worn out, and +lay quite still, and thus froze fast in the ice. + +Early in the morning a peasant came by, and found him there; he took his +wooden shoe, broke the ice to pieces, and carried the Duckling home to +his wife. Then the Duckling came to himself again. The children wanted +to play with him; but he thought they wanted to hurt him, and in his +terror he flew up into the milk-pan, so that the milk spilled over into +the room. The woman screamed and shook her hand in the air, at which the +Duckling flew down into the tub where they kept the butter, and then +into the meal-barrel and out again. How he looked then! The woman +screamed, and struck at him with the fire tongs; the children tumbled +over one another as they tried to catch the Duckling; and they laughed +and they screamed!--well was it that the door stood open, and the poor +creature was able to slip out between the bushes into the newly-fallen +snow--there he lay quite worn out. + +But it would be too sad if I were to tell all the misery and care which +the Duckling had to bear in the hard winter. He lay out on the moor +among the reeds, when the sun began to shine again and the larks to +sing; it was a beautiful spring. + +Then all at once the Duckling could flap his wings: they beat the air +more strongly than before, and bore him stoutly away; and before he well +knew it, he found himself in a great garden, where the elder-trees stood +in flower, and bent their long green branches down to the winding canal, +and the lilacs smelt sweet. Oh, here it was beautiful, fresh, and +springlike! and from the thicket came three glorious white swans; they +rustled their wings, and sat lightly on the water. The Duckling knew the +splendid creatures, and felt a strange sadness. + +"I will fly away to them, to the royal birds! and they will beat me, +because I, that am so ugly, dare to come near them. But it is all the +same. Better to be killed by them than to be chased by ducks, and beaten +by fowls, and pushed about by the girl who takes care of the poultry +yard, and to suffer hunger in winter!" And he flew out into the water, +and swam toward the beautiful swans: these looked at him, and came +sailing down upon him with outspread wings. "Kill me!" said the poor +creature, and bent his head down upon the water, and waited for death. +But what saw he in the clear water? He saw below him his own image; and +lo! it was no longer a clumsy dark-gray bird, ugly and hateful to look +at, but--a swan! + +It matters nothing if one is born in a duck-yard, if one has only lain +in a swan's egg. + +He felt quite glad at all the need and hard times he had borne; now he +could joy in his good luck in all the brightness that was round him. +And the great swans swam round him and stroked him with their beaks. + +Into the garden came little children, who threw bread and corn into the +water; and the youngest cried, "There is a new one!" and the other +children shouted, "Yes, a new one has come!" And they clapped their +hands and danced about, and ran to their father and mother; and bread +and cake were thrown into the water; and they all said, "The new one is +the most beautiful of all! so young and so handsome!" and the old swans +bowed their heads before him. + +Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wings, for he did +not know what to do; he was so happy, and yet not at all proud, for a +good heart is never proud. He thought how he had been driven about and +mocked and despised; and now he heard them all saying that he was the +most beautiful of all beautiful birds. And the lilacs bent their +branches straight down into the water before him, and the sun shone warm +and mild. Then his wings rustled, he lifted his slender neck, and cried +from the depths of his heart:-- + +"I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was the Ugly Duckling." + + + + +WHAT THE MOON SAW + + +Hear what the Moon told me:-- + +"I have seen a cadet promoted to be an officer, and dressing himself for +the first time in his gorgeous uniform; I have seen young girls in +bridal attire, and the prince's young bride in her wedding dress: but I +never saw such bliss as that of a little four-year-old girl whom I +watched this evening. She had got a new blue dress, and a new pink hat. +The finery was just put on, and all were calling for light, for the +moonbeams that came through the window were not bright enough. They +wanted very different lights from that. There stood the little girl, +stiff as a doll, keeping her arms anxiously off her dress, and her +fingers stretched wide apart. Oh! what happiness beamed from her eyes, +from her whole face. 'To-morrow you may go to walk in the dress,' said +the mother; and the little one looked up at her hat and down again at +her dress, and smiled blissfully. 'Mother,' she cried, 'what will the +little dogs think when they see me in all these fine clothes?'" + + + + +THE LOVERS + +From 'Riverside Literature Series': 1891, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + + +The Top and the Ball lay in a drawer among some other toys; and so the +Top said to the Ball:--"Shall we not be lovers, since we live together +in the same drawer?" + +But the Ball, which had a coat of morocco leather, and thought herself +as good as any fine lady, had nothing to say to such a thing. The next +day came the little boy who owned the toys: he painted the Top red and +yellow, and drove a brass nail into it; and the Top looked splendidly +when he turned round. + +"Look at me!" he cried to the Ball. "What do you say now? Shall we not +be lovers? We go so nicely together? You jump and I dance! No one could +be happier than we two should be." + +"Indeed! Do you think so?" said the Ball. "Perhaps you do not know that +my papa and my mamma were morocco slippers, and that I have a cork +inside me?" + +"Yes, but I am made of mahogany," said the Top; "and the mayor himself +turned me. He has a turning-lathe of his own, and it amuses +him greatly." + +"Can I depend on that?" asked the Ball. + +"May I never be whipped again if it is not true!" replied the Top. + +"You talk well for yourself," said the Ball, "but I cannot do what you +ask. I am as good as half engaged to a swallow: every time I leap up +into the air he sticks his head out of the nest and says, 'Will you? +will you?' And now I have silently said 'Yes,' and that is as good as +being half engaged; but I promise I will never forget you." + +"Much good that will do!" said the Top. + +And they spoke no more to each other. + +Next day the Ball was taken out. The Top saw how she flew high into the +air, like a bird; at last one could no longer see her. Each time she +came back again, but always gave a high leap when she touched the earth; +and that came about either from her longing, or because she had a cork +in her body. The ninth time the Ball stayed away and did not come back +again; and the boy looked and looked, but she was gone. + +"I know very well where she is!" sighed the Top. "She is in the +Swallow's nest, and has married the Swallow!" + +The more the Top thought of this, the more he longed for the Ball. Just +because he could not get her, he fell more in love with her. That she +had taken some one else, that was another thing. So the Top danced +around and hummed, but always thought of the Ball, which grew more and +more lovely in his fancy. Thus many years went by,--and now it was +an old love. + +And the Top was no longer young. But one day he was gilt all over; never +had he looked so handsome; he was now a golden Top, and sprang till he +hummed again. Yes, that was something! But all at once he sprang too +high, and--he was gone! + +They looked and looked, even in the cellar, but he was not to be found. + +Where was he? + +He had jumped into the dust-box, where all kinds of things were lying: +cabbage stalks, sweepings, and gravel that had fallen down from +the roof. + +"Here's a nice place to lie in! The gilding will soon leave me here. And +what a rabble I've come amongst!" + +And then he looked askance at a long cabbage stalk that was much too +near him, and at a curious round thing like an old apple; but it was not +an apple--it was an old Ball, which had lain for years in the +roof-gutter and was soaked through with water. + +"Thank goodness, here comes one of us, with whom one can talk!" said the +little Ball, and looked at the gilt Top. "I am really morocco, sewn by a +girl's hands, and have a cork inside me; but no one would think it to +look at me. I was very near marrying a swallow, but I fell into the +gutter on the roof, and have laid there full five years, and am quite +soaked through. That's a long time, you may believe me, for a +young girl." + +But the Top said nothing. He thought of his old love; and the more he +heard, the clearer it became to him that this was she. Then came the +servant-girl, and wanted to empty the dust-box. "Aha, there's a gilt +top!" she cried. And so the Top was brought again to notice and honor, +but nothing was heard of the Ball. And the Top spoke no more of his old +love: for that dies away when the beloved has lain for five years in a +gutter and got soaked through; yes, one does not know her again when one +meets her in the dust-box. + + + + +THE SNOW QUEEN + +From 'Riverside Literature Series': 1891, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + + +FOURTH STORY--THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS + +Gerda was obliged to rest herself again, when just over against where +she sat, a large Crow hopped over the white snow. He had sat there a +long while, looking at her and shaking his head; and now he said, "Caw! +caw! Good day! good day!" He could not say it better; but he meant well +by the little girl, and asked her where she was going all alone out in +the wide world. The word "alone" Gerda understood quite well, and felt +how much lay in it; so she told the Crow her whole history, and asked if +he had not seen Kay. + +The Crow nodded very gravely, and said, "It may be--it may be!" + +"What--do you really think so?" cried the little girl; and she nearly +squeezed the Crow to death, so much did she kiss him. + +"Gently, gently," said the Crow. "I think I know; I think that it may be +little Kay. But now he has quite forgotten you for the Princess." + +"Does he live with a princess?" asked Gerda. + +"Yes,--listen," said the Crow; "but it is hard for me to speak your +language. If you understand the Crow language, I can tell you better." + +"No, I have not learnt it," said Gerda; "but my grandmother understands +it. I wish I had learnt it." + +"No matter," said the Crow: "I will tell you as well as I can; but it +will be bad enough." And then he told all he knew. + +"In the kingdom where we now are, there lives a princess, who is vastly +clever; for she has read all the newspapers in the whole world, and has +forgotten them again,--so clever is she. Some time ago, they say, she +was sitting on her throne,--which is no great fun, after all,--when she +began humming an old tune, and it was just 'Oh, why should I not be +married?' 'Come, now, there is something in that,' said she, and so then +she was bound to marry; but she would have a husband who knew how to +give an answer when he was spoken to,--not one who was good for nothing +but to stand and be looked at, for that is very tiresome. She then had +all the ladies of the court drummed together; and when they heard what +she meant to do, all were well pleased, and said, 'We are quite glad to +hear it: it is the very thing we were thinking of.' You may believe +every word I say," said the Crow, "for I have a tame sweetheart that +hops about in the palace quite freely, and she told me all. + +"The newspapers at once came out with a border of hearts and the +initials of the Princess; and you could read in them that every +good-looking young man was free to come to the palace and speak to the +Princess; and he who spoke in such wise as showed he felt himself at +home there, and talked best, that one the Princess would choose for +her husband. + +"Yes--yes," said the Crow, "you may believe it; it is as true as I am +sitting here. People came in crowds; there was a crush and a hurry, but +no one had good luck either on the first or second day. They could all +talk well enough when they were out in the street; but as soon as they +came inside the palace gates, and saw the guard richly dressed in +silver, and the lackeys in gold, on the staircase, and the large lighted +halls, then they were dumb; and when they stood before the throne on +which the Princess was sitting, all they could do was to repeat the last +word she had said, and she didn't care to hear that again. It was just +as if the people within were under a charm, and had fallen into a trance +till they came out again into the street; for then--oh, then they could +chatter enough. There was a whole row of them from the town gates to the +palace. I was there myself to look on," said the Crow. "They grew hungry +and thirsty; but from the palace they got not so much as a glass of +water. Some of the cleverest, it is true, had taken bread and butter +with them; but none shared it with his neighbor, for each thought, 'Let +him look hungry, and then the Princess won't have him.'" + +"But Kay--little Kay," asked Gerda, "when did he come? Was he among the +number?" + +"Give me time! give me time! we are coming to him. It was on the third +day, when a little personage, without horse or carriage, came marching +right boldly up to the palace; his eyes shone like yours, he had +beautiful long hair, but his clothes were very shabby." + +"That was Kay," cried Gerda, with a voice of delight. "Oh, now I've +found him!" and she clapped her hands. + +"He had a little knapsack at his back," said the Crow. + +"No, that was certainly his sled," said Gerda; "for he went away with +his sled." + +"That may be," said the Crow; "I did not see him close to; but I know +from my tame sweetheart that when he came into the courtyard of the +palace, and saw the body-guard in silver, and the lackeys on the +staircase in gold, he was not in the least cast down; he nodded and said +to them, 'It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs; for my part, +I shall go in.' The halls were bright with lights. Court people and fine +folks were walking about on bare feet; it was all very solemn. His boots +creaked, too, very loudly; but still he was not at all afraid." + +"That's Kay, for certain," said Gerda. "I know he had on new boots; I +have heard them creaking in grandmamma's room." + +"Yes, they creaked," said the Crow. "And on he went boldly up to the +Princess, who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning-wheel. All +the ladies of the court stood about, with their maids and their maids' +maids, and all the gentlemen with their servants and their servants' +servants, who kept a boy; and the nearer they stood to the door, the +prouder they looked. The boy of the servants' servants, who always goes +in slippers, hardly looked at one, so very proudly did he stand in +the doorway." + +"It must have been terrible," said little Gerda. "And did Kay get the +Princess?" + +"Were I not a Crow, I should have taken the Princess myself, although I +am engaged. It is said he spoke as well as I speak when I talk crow +language; this I learned from my tame sweetheart. He was bold and nicely +behaved; he had not come to woo the Princess, but only to hear her +wisdom. She pleased him and he pleased her." + +"Yes, yes, for certain that was Kay," said Gerda. "He was so clever; he +could do sums with fractions. Oh, won't you take me to the palace?" + +"That is very easily said," answered the Crow. "But how are we to manage +it? I'll speak to my tame sweetheart about it; she can tell us what to +do; for so much I must tell you, such a little girl as you are will +never get leave to go in the common way." + +"Oh, yes, I shall," said Gerda: "when Kay hears that I am here, he will +come out at once to fetch me." + +"Wait for me here on these steps," said the Crow. He wagged his head and +flew away. + +When it grew dark the Crow came back. "Caw! caw!" said he. "I bring you +a great many good wishes from her; and here is a bit of bread for you. +She took it out of the kitchen, where there is bread enough, and you are +hungry, no doubt. It is not possible for you to enter the palace, for +you are barefoot; the guards in silver and the lackeys in gold would not +allow it: but do not cry, you shall come in still. My sweetheart knows a +little back stair that leads to the chamber, and she knows where she can +get the key of it." + +And they went into the garden by the broad path, where one leaf was +falling after the other; and when the lights in the palace were all put +out, one after the other, the Crow led little Gerda to the back door, +which stood ajar. + +Oh, how Gerda's heart beat with doubt and longing! It was just as if she +had been about to do something wrong; and yet she only wanted to know if +little Kay was there. Yes, he must be there. She called to mind his +clear eyes and his long hair so vividly, she could quite see him as he +used to laugh when they were sitting under the roses at home. He would +surely be glad to see her--to hear what a long way she had come for his +sake; to know how unhappy all at home were when he did not come back. +Oh, what a fright and what a joy it was! + +Now they were on the stairs. A single lamp was burning there; and on the +floor stood the tame Crow, turning her head on every side and looking at +Gerda, who bowed as her grandmother had taught her to do. + +"My intended has told me so much good of you, my dear young lady," said +the tame Crow. "Your Life, as they call it, is very affecting. If you +will take the lamp, I will go before. We will go straight on, for we +shall meet no one." + +"I think there is somebody just behind us," said Gerda; and it rushed +past her. It was like shadows on the wall: horses with flowing manes and +thin legs, huntsmen, ladies and gentlemen on horseback. + +"They are only dreams," said the Crow. "They come to fetch the thoughts +of the fine folk to the chase; 'tis well, for now you can see them +asleep all the better. But let me find, when you come to have honor and +fame, that you possess a grateful heart." + +"Tut! that's not worth talking about," said the Crow from the woods. + +Now they came into the first hall, which was of rose-colored satin, +with painted flowers on the wall. Here the dreams were rushing past, but +they hurried by so quickly that Gerda could not see the fine people. One +hall was more showy than the other--well might people be abashed; and at +last they came into the bed-chamber. + +The ceiling of the room was like a great palm-tree, with leaves of +glass, of costly glass; and in the middle of the floor, from a thick +golden stalk, hung two beds, each of which was shaped like a lily. One +was white, and in this lay the Princess: the other was red, and it was +here that Gerda was to look for little Kay. She bent back one of the red +leaves, and saw a brown neck--oh, that was Kay! She called him quite +loud by name, held the lamp toward him--the dreams rushed again on +horseback into the chamber--he awoke, turned his head, and--it was not +little Kay! + +The Prince was only like him about the neck; but he was young and +handsome. And out of the white lily leaves the Princess peeped too, and +asked what was the matter. Then little Gerda cried and told her whole +history, and all that the Crows had done for her. + +"Poor little thing!" said the Prince and the Princess, and they praised +the Crows very much, and told them they were not at all angry with them, +but they were not to do so again. However, they should have a reward. + +"Will you fly about at liberty?" asked the Princess; "or would you like +to have a steady place as court Crows with all the broken bits from +the kitchen?" + +And both the Crows nodded, and begged for a steady place; for they +thought of their old age, and said "it was a good thing to have +something for the old folks," as the saying is. + +And the Prince got up and let Gerda sleep in his bed, and more than this +he could not do. She folded her little hands, and thought, "How good men +and animals are!" and then she shut her eyes and slept soundly. All the +dreams came flying in again, and they now looked like the angels; they +drew a little sled, on which Kay sat and nodded his head: but the whole +was only a dream, and so it was all gone as soon as she awoke. + +The next day she was dressed from top to toe in silk and velvet. They +offered to let her stay at the palace, and lead a happy life; but she +begged only to have a little carriage with a horse in front, and for a +small pair of shoes; then, she said, she would again go forth in the +wide world and look for Kay. + +And she got both shoes and a muff; she was dressed very nicely, too; and +when she was about to set off, a new carriage stopped before the door. +It was of pure gold, and the arms of the Prince and Princess shone like +a star upon it; the coachman, the footmen, and the outriders, for +outriders were there too, all wore golden crowns. The Prince and +Princess helped her into the carriage themselves, and wished her good +luck. The Crow of the woods, who was now married, went with her for the +first three miles. He sat beside Gerda, for he could not bear riding +backward; the other Crow stood in the doorway, and flapped her wings; +she could not go with Gerda, because she suffered from headache since +she had had a steady place, and ate so much. The carriage was lined +inside with sugar-plums, and in the seats were fruits and cookies. + +"Good-by! good-by!" cried Prince and Princess; and little Gerda wept, +and the Crows wept. Thus passed the first miles; and then the Crow said +good-by, and this was the worst good-by of all. He flew into a tree, and +beat his black wings as long as he could see the carriage, that shone +from afar like the clear sunlight. + + + + +THE NIGHTINGALE + +From 'Riverside Literature Series': 1891, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + + +I--THE REAL NIGHTINGALE + + +In China, you must know, the Emperor is a Chinaman, and all whom he has +about him are Chinamen too. It happened a good many years ago, but +that's just why it's worth while to hear the story before it is +forgotten. + +The Emperor's palace was the most splendid in the world. It was made +wholly of fine porcelain, very costly, but so brittle and so hard to +handle that one had to take care how one touched it. In the garden were +to be seen the most wonderful flowers, and to the prettiest of them +silver bells were tied, which tinkled, so that nobody should pass by +without noticing the flowers. + +Yes, everything in the Emperor's garden was nicely set out, and it +reached so far that the gardener himself did not know where the end +was. If a man went on and on, he came into a glorious forest with high +trees and deep lakes. The wood went straight down to the sea, which was +blue and deep; great ships could sail to and fro beneath the branches of +the trees; and in the trees lived a Nightingale, which sang so finely +that even the poor Fisherman, who had many other things to do, stopped +still and listened, when he had gone out at night to throw out his nets, +and heard the Nightingale. + +"How beautiful that is!" he said; but he had to attend to his work, and +so he forgot the bird. But the next night, when the bird sang again, and +the Fisherman heard it, he said as before, "How beautiful that is!" + +From all the countries of the world travelers came to the city of the +Emperor, and admired it, and the palace, and the garden; but when they +heard the Nightingale, they all said, "That is the best of all!" + +And the travelers told of it when they came home; and the learned men +wrote many books about the town, the palace, and the garden. But they +did not forget the Nightingale; that was spoken of most of all; and all +those who were poets wrote great poems about the Nightingale in the wood +by the deep lake. + +The books went all over the world, and a few of them once came to the +Emperor. He sat in his golden chair, and read, and read; every moment he +nodded his head, for it pleased him to hear the fine things that were +said about the city, the palace, and the garden. "But the Nightingale is +the best of all!"--it stood written there. + +"What's that?" exclaimed the Emperor. "The Nightingale? I don't know +that at all! Is there such a bird in my empire, and in my garden to +boot? I've never heard of that. One has to read about such things." + +Hereupon he called his Cavalier, who was so grand that if any one lower +in rank than he dared to speak to him, or to ask him any question, he +answered nothing but "P!"--and that meant nothing. + +"There is said to be a strange bird here called a Nightingale!" said the +Emperor. "They say it is the best thing in all my great empire. Why has +no one ever told me anything about it?" + +"I have never heard it named," replied the Cavalier. "It has never been +presented at court." + +"I command that it shall come here this evening, and sing before me," +said the Emperor. "All the world knows what I have, and I do not know +it myself!" + +"I have never heard it mentioned," said the Cavalier. "I will seek for +it. I will find it." + +But where was it to be found? The Cavalier ran up and down all the +stairs, through halls and passages, but no one among all those whom he +met had heard talk of the Nightingale. And the Cavalier ran back to the +Emperor, and said that it must be a fable made up by those who +write books. + +"Your Imperial Majesty must not believe what is written. It is fiction, +and something that they call the black art." + +"But the book in which I read this," said the Emperor, "was sent to me +by the high and mighty Emperor of Japan, and so it cannot be a +falsehood. I will hear the Nightingale! It must be here this evening! It +has my high favor; and if it does not come, all the court shall be +trampled upon after it has supped!" + +"Tsing-pe!" said the Cavalier; and again he ran up and down all the +stairs, and through all the halls and passages, and half the court ran +with him, for the courtiers did not like being trampled upon. There was +a great inquiry after the wonderful Nightingale, which all the world +knew, but not the people at court. + +At last they met with a poor little girl in the kitchen. She said:-- + +"The Nightingale? I know it well; yes, how it can sing! Every evening I +get leave to carry my poor sick mother the scraps from the table. She +lives down by the beach, and when I get back and am tired, and rest in +the wood, then I hear the Nightingale sing. And then the tears come into +my eyes, and it is just as if my mother kissed me!" + +"Little Kitchen-girl," said the Cavalier, "I will get you a fixed place +in the kitchen, with leave to see the Emperor dine, if you will lead us +to the Nightingale, for it is promised for this evening." + +So they all went out into the wood where the Nightingale was wont to +sing; half the court went out. When they were on the way, a cow began +to low. + +"Oh!" cried the court pages, "now we have it! That shows a great power +in so small a creature! We have certainly heard it before." + +"No, those are cows mooing!" said the little Kitchen-girl. "We are a +long way from the place yet." + +Now the frogs began to croak in the marsh. + +"Glorious!" said the Chinese Court Preacher. "Now I hear it--it sounds +just like little church bells." + +"No, those are frogs!" said the little Kitchen-maid. "But now I think we +shall soon hear it." + +And then the Nightingale began to sing. + +"That is it!" exclaimed the little Girl. "Listen, listen! and yonder it +sits." + +And she pointed to a little gray bird up in the boughs. + +"Is it possible?" cried the Cavalier. "I should never have thought it +looked like that! How simple it looks! It must certainly have lost its +color at seeing so many famous people around." + +"Little Nightingale!" called the little Kitchen-maid, quite loudly, "our +gracious Emperor wishes you to sing before him." + +"With the greatest pleasure!" replied the Nightingale, and sang so that +it was a joy to hear it. + +"It sounds just like glass bells!" said the Cavalier. "And look at its +little throat, how it's working! It's wonderful that we should never +have heard it before. That bird will be a great success at court." + +"Shall I sing once more before the Emperor?" asked the Nightingale, for +it thought the Emperor was present. + +"My excellent little Nightingale," said the Cavalier, "I have great +pleasure in inviting you to a court festival this evening, when you +shall charm his Imperial Majesty with your beautiful singing." + +"My song sounds best in the greenwood!" replied the Nightingale; still +it came willingly when it heard what the Emperor wished. + +In the palace there was a great brushing up. The walls and the floor, +which were of porcelain, shone with many thousand golden lamps. The most +glorious flowers, which could ring clearly, had been placed in the +halls. There was a running to and fro, and a draught of air, but all the +bells rang so exactly together that one could not hear any noise. + +In the midst of the great hall, where the Emperor sat, a golden perch +had been placed, on which the Nightingale was to sit. The whole court +was there, and the little Cook-maid had leave to stand behind the door, +as she had now received the title of a real cook-maid. All were in full +dress, and all looked at the little gray bird, to which the +Emperor nodded. + +And the Nightingale sang so gloriously that the tears came into the +Emperor's eyes, and the tears ran down over his cheeks; and then the +Nightingale sang still more sweetly; that went straight to the heart. +The Emperor was happy, and he said the Nightingale should have his +golden slipper to wear round its neck. But the Nightingale thanked him, +it had already got reward enough. + +"I have seen tears in the Emperor's eyes--that is the real treasure to +me. An Emperor's tears have a strange power. I am paid enough!" Then it +sang again with a sweet, glorious voice. + +"That's the most lovely way of making love I ever saw!" said the ladies +who stood round about, and then they took water in their mouths to +gurgle when any one spoke to them. They thought they should be +nightingales too. And the lackeys and maids let it be known that they +were pleased too; and that was saying a good deal, for they are the +hardest of all to please. In short, the Nightingale made a real hit. + +It was now to remain at court, to have its own cage, with freedom to go +out twice every day and once at night. It had twelve servants, and they +all had a silken string tied to the bird's leg which they held very +tight. There was really no pleasure in going out. + +The whole city spoke of the wonderful bird, and when two people met, one +said nothing but "Nightin," and the other said "gale"; and then they +sighed, and understood one another. Eleven storekeepers' children were +named after the bird, but not one of them could sing a note. + + + + +II--THE TOY NIGHTINGALE + + +One day a large parcel came to the Emperor, on which was written "The +Nightingale." + +"Here we have a new book about this famous bird," said the Emperor. + +But it was not a book: it was a little work of art, that lay in a box; a +toy nightingale, which was to sing like a live one, but it was all +covered with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. So soon as the toy bird +was wound up, he could sing one of the pieces that the real one sang, +and then his tail moved up and down, and shone with silver and gold. +Round his neck hung a little ribbon, and on that was written, "The +Emperor of Japan's Nightingale is poor beside that of the Emperor +in China." + +"That is capital!" said they all, and he who had brought the toy bird at +once got the title Imperial Head-Nightingale-Bringer. + +"Now they must sing together: what a duet that will be!" + +And so they had to sing together; but it did not sound very well, for +the real Nightingale sang in its own way, and the toy bird sang waltzes. + +"That's not its fault," said the Play-master: "it's quite perfect, and +very much in my style." + +Now the toy bird was to sing alone. It made just as much of a hit as the +real one, and then it was so much more fine to look at--it shone like +bracelets and breastpins. + +Three-and-thirty times over did it sing the same piece, and yet was not +tired. The people would gladly have heard it again, but the Emperor said +that the living Nightingale ought to sing a little something. But where +was it? No one had noticed that it had flown away, out of the open +window, back to its green woods. + +"But what is become of it?" asked the Emperor. + +Then all the courtiers scolded, and thought the Nightingale was a very +thankless creature. + +"We have the best bird, after all," said they. + +And so the toy bird had to sing again, and this was the thirty-fourth +time they had listened to the same piece. For all that, they did not +know it quite by heart, for it was so very difficult. And the +Play-master praised the bird highly; yes, he declared that it was better +than the real Nightingale, not only in its feathers and its many +beautiful diamonds, but inside as well. + +"For you see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all, your Imperial +Majesty, with the real Nightingale one can never make sure what is +coming, but in this toy bird everything is settled. It is just so, and +not any other way. One can explain it; one can open it, and can show how +much thought went to making it, where the waltzes come from, how they +go, and how one follows another." + +"Those are quite our own ideas," they all said. And the Play-master got +leave to show the bird to the people on the next Sunday. The people +were to hear it sing too, said the Emperor; and they did hear it, and +were as much pleased as if they had all had tea, for that's quite the +Chinese fashion; and they all said "Oh!" and held their forefingers up +in the air and nodded. But the poor Fisherman, who had heard the real +Nightingale, said:-- + +"It sounds pretty enough, and it's a little like, but there's something +wanting, though I know not what!" + +The real Nightingale was exiled from the land and empire. + +The toy bird had its place on a silken cushion close to the Emperor's +bed. All the presents it had received, gold and precious stones, were +ranged about it. In title it had come to be High Imperial +After-Dinner-Singer, and in rank it was Number One on the left hand; for +the Emperor reckoned that side the most important on which the heart is +placed, and even in an Emperor the heart is on the left side. And the +Play-master wrote a work of five-and-twenty volumes about the toy bird: +it was so learned and so long, full of the most difficult Chinese words, +that all the people said they had read it and understood it, or else +they would have been thought stupid, and would have had their bodies +trampled on. + +So a whole year went by. The Emperor, the court, and all the other +Chinese knew every little twitter in the toy bird's song by heart. +But just for that reason it pleased them best--they could sing +with it themselves, and they did so. The street boys sang, +"Tsi-tsi-tsi-glug-glug!" and the Emperor himself sang it too. Yes, that +was certainly famous. + +But one evening, when the toy bird was singing its best, and the Emperor +lay in bed and heard it, something inside the bird said, "Svup!" +Something cracked. "Whir-r-r!" All the wheels ran round, and then the +music stopped. + +The Emperor jumped at once out of bed, and had his own doctor called; +but what could he do? Then they sent for a watchmaker, and after a good +deal of talking and looking, he got the bird into some sort of order; +but he said that it must be looked after a good deal, for the barrels +were worn, and he could not put new ones in in such a manner that the +music would go. There was a great to-do; only once in a year did they +dare to let the bird sing, and that was almost too much. But then the +Play-master made a little speech, full of heavy words, and said this was +just as good as before--and so, of course, it was as good as before. + + +III--THE REAL NIGHTINGALE AGAIN + + +Five years had gone by, and a real grief came upon the whole nation. The +Chinese were really fond of their Emperor, and now he was sick, and +could not, it was said, live much longer. Already a new Emperor had been +chosen, and the people stood out in the street and asked the Cavalier +how their old Emperor did. + +"P!" said he, and shook his head. + +Cold and pale lay the Emperor in his great, gorgeous bed; the whole +court thought him dead, and each one ran to pay respect to the new +ruler. The chamberlains ran out to talk it over, and the ladies'-maids +had a great coffee party. All about, in all the halls and passages, +cloth had been laid down so that no one could be heard go by, and +therefore it was quiet there, quite quiet. But the Emperor was not dead +yet: stiff and pale he lay on the gorgeous bed with the long velvet +curtains and the heavy gold tassels; high up, a window stood open, and +the moon shone in upon the Emperor and the toy bird. + +The poor Emperor could scarcely breathe; it was just as if something lay +upon his breast. He opened his eyes, and then he saw that it was Death +who sat upon his breast, and had put on his golden crown, and held in +one hand the Emperor's sword, and in the other his beautiful banner. And +all around, from among the folds of the splendid velvet curtains, +strange heads peered forth; a few very ugly, the rest quite lovely and +mild. These were all the Emperor's bad and good deeds, that stood before +him now that Death sat upon his heart. + +"Do you remember this?" whispered one to the other, "Do you remember +that?" and then they told him so much that the sweat ran from +his forehead. + +"I did not know that!" said the Emperor. "Music! music! the great +Chinese drum!" he cried, "so that I need not hear all they say!" + +And they kept on, and Death nodded like a Chinaman to all they said. + +"Music! music!" cried the Emperor. "You little precious golden bird, +sing, sing! I have given you gold and costly presents; I have even hung +my golden slipper around your neck--now, sing!" + +But the bird stood still,--no one was there to wind him up, and he could +not sing without that; but Death kept on staring at the Emperor with +his great hollow eyes, and it was quiet, fearfully quiet. + +Then there sounded close by the window the most lovely song. It was the +little live Nightingale, that sat outside on a spray. It had heard of +the Emperor's need, and had come to sing to him of trust and hope. And +as it sang the spectres grew paler and paler; the blood ran more and +more quickly through the Emperor's weak limbs, and Death himself +listened, and said:-- + +"Go on, little Nightingale, go on!" + +"But will you give me that splendid golden sword? Will you give me that +rich banner? Will you give me the Emperor's crown?" + +And Death gave up each of these treasures for a song. And the +Nightingale sang on and on; it sang of the quiet churchyard where the +white roses grow, where the elder-blossom smells sweet, and where the +fresh grass is wet with the tears of mourners. Then Death felt a longing +to see his garden, and floated out at the window in the form of a cold, +white mist. + +"Thanks! thanks!" said the Emperor. "You heavenly little bird! I know +you well. I drove you from my land and empire, and yet you have charmed +away the evil faces from my bed, and driven Death from my heart! How can +I pay you?" + +"You have paid me!" replied the Nightingale. "I drew tears from your +eyes, the first time I sang--I shall never forget that. Those are the +jewels that make a singer's heart glad. But now sleep and grow fresh and +strong again. I will sing you something." + +And it sang, and the Emperor fell into a sweet sleep. Ah! how mild and +refreshing that sleep was! The sun shone upon him through the windows, +when he awoke strong and sound. Not one of his servants had yet come +back, for they all thought that he was dead; but the Nightingale still +sat beside him and sang. + +"You must always stay with me," said the Emperor. "You shall sing as you +please; and I'll break the toy bird into a thousand pieces." + +"Not so," replied the Nightingale. "It did well as long as it could; +keep it as you have done till now. I cannot build my nest in the palace +to dwell in it, but let me come when I feel the wish; then I will sit in +the evening on the spray yonder by the window, and sing for you, so +that you may be glad and thoughtful at once. I will sing of those who +are happy and of those who suffer. I will sing of good and of evil that +remain hidden round about you. The little singing bird flies far around, +to the poor fisherman, to the peasant's roof, to every one who dwells +far away from you and from your court. I love your heart more than your +crown, and yet the crown has an air of sanctity about it. I will come +and sing to you--but one thing you must promise me." + +"Everything!" said the Emperor; and he stood there in his royal robes, +which he had put on himself, and pressed the sword which was heavy with +gold to his heart. + +"One thing I beg of you: tell no one that you have a little bird who +tells you everything. Then all will go well." + +And the Nightingale flew away. + +The servants came in to look on their dead Emperor, and--yes, there he +stood, and the Emperor said, "Good-morning!" + + + + +THE MARKET PLACE AT ODENSE (1836) + +From 'The Story of My Life' + + +If the reader was a child who lived in Odense, he would just need to say +the words "St. Knud's Fair," and it would rise before him in the +brightest colors, lighted by the beams of childish fancy.... Somewhere +near the middle of the town, five streets meet and make a little +square.... There the town crier, in striped homespun, with a yellow +bandoleer, beat his drum and proclaimed from a scroll the splendid +things to be seen in the town. + +"He beats a good drum," said the chamberlain. + +"It would delight Spontini and Rossini to hear the fellow," said +William. "Really, Odense at New Year would just suit these composers. +The drums and fifes are in their glory. They drum the New Year in. Seven +or eight little drummers, or fifers, go from door to door, with troops +of children and old women, and they beat the drum-taps and the reveille. +That fetches the pennies. Then when the New Year is well drummed in the +city, they go into the country and drum for meat and porridge. The +drumming in of the New Year lasts until Lent." + +"And then we have new sports," said the chamberlain. "The fishers come +from Stege with a full band, and on their shoulders a boat with all +sorts of flags.... Then they lay a board between two boats, and on this +two of the youngest and spryest wrestle till one falls into the +water.... But all the fun's gone now. When I was young, there was +different sport going. That was a sight! the corporation procession with +the banners and the harlequin atop, and at Shrovetide, when the butchers +led about an ox decked with ribbons and carnival twigs, with a boy on +his back with wings and a little shirt.... All that's past now, people +are got so fine. St. Knud's Fair is not what it used to be." + +"Well, I'm glad it isn't," said William; "but let us go into the market +and look at the Jutlanders, who are sitting with their pottery +amidst the hay." + +Just as the various professions in the Middle Ages had each its quarter, +so here the shoemakers had ranged their tables side by side, and behind +them stood the skillful workman in his long coat, and with his +well-brushed felt hat in his hand. Where the shoemakers' quarter ended, +the hatters' began, and there one was in the midst of the great market +where tents and booths formed many parallel streets. The milliners, the +goldsmiths, the pastry cooks, with booths of canvas and wood, were the +chief attractions. Ribbons and handkerchiefs fluttered. Noise and bustle +was everywhere. The girls from the same village always went in rows, +seven or eight inseparables, with hands fast clasped. It was impossible +to break the chain; and if you tried to pass through, the whole band +wound itself into a clump. Behind the booth was a great space with +wooden shoes, pottery, turners' and saddlers' wares. Rude and rough toys +were spread on tables. Around them children were trying little trumpets, +or moving about the playthings. Country girls twirled and twisted the +work-boxes and themselves many a time before making their bargain. The +air was thick and heavy with odors that were spiced with the smell of +honey-cake. + +On Fair day, St. Knud's Church and all its tombs are open to the public. +From whatever side you look at this fine old building it has something +imposing, with its high tower and spire. The interior produces the same, +perhaps a greater, effect. But its full impression is not felt on +entering it, nor until you get to the main aisle. There all is grand, +beautiful, light. The whole interior is bright with gilding. Up in the +high vaulted roof there shine, since old time, a multitude of golden +stars. On both sides, high up above the side aisles, are great gothic +windows from which the light streams down. The side aisles are painted +with oil portraits, whole families, women and children, all in clerical +dress, with long gowns and deep ruffs. Usually the figures are ranged by +ages, the eldest first and then down to the very smallest. + +They all stand with folded hands, and look piously down before them, +till their colors have gradually faded away in dust. + + + + +THE ANDERSEN JUBILEE AT ODENSE + +From 'The Story of My Life' + + +I heard on the morning of December 6th [1867] that the town was +decorated, that all the schools had a holiday, because it was my +festival. I felt myself as humble, meek, and poor as though I stood +before my God. Every weakness or error or sin, in thought, word, and +deed, was revealed to me. All stood out strangely clear in my soul, as +though it were doomsday--and it was my festival. God knows how humble I +felt when men exalted and honored me so. + +Then came the first telegram from the Student Club. I saw that they +shared and did not envy my joy. Then came a dispatch from a private club +of students in Copenhagen, and from the Artisans' Club of Slagelse. You +will remember that I went to school in that town, and was therefore +attached to it. Soon followed messages from sympathetic friends in +Aarhuus, in Stege; telegram on telegram from all around. One of these +was read aloud by Privy Councillor Koch. It was from the king. The +assembly burst out in applause. Every cloud and shadow in my +soul vanished! + +How happy I was! And yet man must not exalt himself. I was to feel that +I was only a poor child of humanity, bound by the frailty of earth. I +suffered from a dreadful toothache, which was increased unbearably by +the heat and excitement. Yet at evening I read a Wonder Story for the +little friends. Then the deputation came from the town corporations, +with torches and waving banners through the street, to the guild-hall. +And now the prophecy was to be fulfilled that the old woman gave when I +left home as a boy. Odense was to be illuminated for me. I stepped to +the open window. All was aglow with torchlight, the square was filled +with people. Songs swelled up to me. I was overcome, emotionally. +Physically racked with pain, I could not enjoy this crowning fruit of my +life, the toothache was so intolerable. The ice-cold air that blew +against me fanned the pain to an awful intensity, and, instead of +enjoying the bliss of these never-to-be-repeated moments, I looked at +the printed song to see how many verses had to be sung before I could +step away from the torture which the cold air sent through my teeth. It +was the acme of suffering. As the glow of the piled-up torches subsided, +my pain subsided too. How thankful I was, though! Gentle eyes were +fastened upon me all around. All wanted to speak with me, to press my +hand. Tired out, I reached the bishop's house and sought rest. But I got +no sleep till toward morning, so filled and overflowing was I. + + + + +'MISERERE' IN THE SIXTINE CHAPEL + +From 'The Improvisatore': Translation by Mary Howitt + + +On Wednesday afternoon began the Miserere in the Sixtine Chapel. My soul +longed for music; in the world of melody I could find sympathy and +consolation. The throng was great, even within the chapel--the foremost +division was already filled with ladies. Magnificent boxes, hung with +velvet and golden draperies for royal personages and foreigners from +various courts, were here erected so high that they looked out beyond +the richly carved railing which separated the ladies from the interior +of the chapel. The papal Swiss Guards stood in their bright festal +array. The officers wore light armor, and in their helmets a waving +plume.... The old cardinals entered in their magnificent scarlet velvet +cloaks, with their white ermine capes, and seated themselves side by +side in a great half-circle within the barrier, while the priests who +had carried their trains seated themselves at their feet. By the little +side door of the altar the holy father now entered, in his scarlet +mantle and silver tiara. He ascended his throne. Bishops swung the +vessels of incense around him, while young priests, in scarlet +vestments, knelt, with lighted torches in their hands, before him and +the high altar. + +The reading of the lessons began. But it was impossible to keep the +eyes fixed on the lifeless letters of the Missal--they raised +themselves, with the thoughts, to the vast universe which Michael Angelo +has breathed forth in colors upon the ceiling and the walls. I +contemplated his mighty sibyls and wondrously glorious prophets,--every +one of them a subject for a painting. My eyes drank in the magnificent +processions, the beautiful groups of angels; they were not, to me, +painted pictures;--all stood living before me. The rich tree of +knowledge, from which Eve gave the fruit to Adam; the Almighty God, who +floated over the waters,--not borne up by angels, as the older masters +had represented him--no, the company of angels rested upon him and his +fluttering garments. It is true, I had seen these pictures before, but +never as now had they seized upon me. My excited state of mind, the +crowd of people, perhaps even the lyric of my thoughts, made me +wonderfully alive to poetical impressions; and many a poet's heart has +felt as mine did! + +The bold foreshortenings, the determinate force with which every figure +steps forward, is amazing, and carries one quite away! It is a spiritual +Sermon on the Mount, in color and form. Like Raphael, we stand in +astonishment before the power of Michael Angelo. Every prophet is a +Moses, like that which he formed in marble. What giant forms are those +which seize upon our eye and our thoughts as we enter! But when +intoxicated with this view, let us turn our eyes to the background of +the chapel, whose whole wall is a high altar of art and thought. The +great chaotic picture, from the floor to the roof, shows itself there +like a jewel, of which all the rest is only the setting. We see there +the Last Judgment. + +Christ stands in judgment upon the clouds, and his Mother and the +Apostles stretch forth their hands beseechingly for the poor human race. +The dead raise the gravestones under which they have lain; blessed +spirits adoring, float upward to God, while the abyss seizes its +victims. Here one of the ascending spirits seeks to save his condemned +brother, whom the abyss already embraces in its snaky folds. The +children of despair strike their clenched fists upon their brows, and +sink into the depths! In bold foreshortenings, float and tumble whole +legions between heaven and earth. The sympathy of the angels, the +expression of lovers who meet, the child that at the sound of the +trumpet clings to the mother's breast, are so natural and beautiful +that one believes one's self to be among those who are waiting for +judgment. Michael Angelo has expressed in colors what Dante saw and has +sung to the generations of the earth. + +The descending sun at that moment threw his last beams in through the +uppermost window. Christ, and the blessed around him, were strongly +lighted up; while the lower part, where the dead arose, and the demons +thrust their boat laden with the damned from the shore, were almost +in darkness. + +Just as the sun went down the last lesson was ended, the last light +which now remained was extinguished, and the whole picture world +vanished in the gloom from before me; but in that same moment burst +forth music and singing. That which color had bodily revealed arose now +in sound; the day of judgment, with its despair and its exultation, +resounded above us. + +The father of the church, stripped of his papal pomp, stood before the +altar, and prayed to the holy cross; and upon the wings of the trumpet +resounded the trembling choir, 'Populus meus quid feci tibi?' Soft +angel-tones rose above the deep song, tones which ascended not from a +human breast: it was not a man's nor a woman's; it belonged to the world +of spirits; it was like the weeping of angels dissolved in melody. + + + + +ANEURIN + +(Sixth Century A.D.) + + +Among the triad of singers--Llywarch, prince and bard, Aneurin, warrior +and bard, and Taliessin, bard only--who were among the followers of the +heroic British chief Urien, when he bravely but unsuccessfully resisted +the invasion of the victorious Angles and Saxons, Aneurin was famous +both as poet and warrior. He sang of the long struggle that eventually +was to turn Briton into England, and celebrated in his 'Gododin' ninety +of the fallen Cymric chiefs. The notes of his life are scanty, and are +drawn chiefly from his allusion to himself in his poem. He was the son +of Cwm Cawlwyd, a chief of the tribe of Gododin. He seems to have been +educated at St. Cadoc's College at Llancarvan, and afterwards entered +the bardic order. As appears from the 'Gododin,' he was present at the +battle of Cattræth both as bard and as priest. He fled, but was taken +prisoner. In his poem he refers to the hardships he endured in his +captivity. After his release he returned to Llancarvan, Wales, and in +his old age he went north to live with his brother in Galloway. Here he +was murdered; his death is referred to as one of the "three accursed +hatchet-strokes of the isle of Britain." His friendship with Taliessin +is commemorated by both bards. + +The 'Gododin' is at once the longest and the most important composition +in early Welsh literature. It has been variously interpreted, but is +thought to celebrate the battle of Cattræth. This battle was fought in +570 between the Britons, who had formed a league to defend their +country, and their Teutonic invaders. It "began on a Tuesday, lasted for +a week, and ended with great slaughter of the Britons, who fought +desperately till they perished on the field." Three hundred and sixty +chieftains were slain; only three escaped by flight, among whom was +Aneurin, who afterwards commemorated the slaughter in the 'Gododin,' a +lament for the dead. Ninety-seven of the stanzas remain. In various +measures of alliterative and assonant verse they sing the praises of +ninety of the fallen chiefs, usually giving one stanza to each hero. One +of these stanzas is known to readers of Gray, who translated it under +the name of 'The Death of Hoel.' + +Again the 'Gododin' is assumed to be, like many early epic poems whose +origin is wrapped in mystery, not the commemoration of one single, +particular event, but a collection of lays composed at various times, +which compresses into one battle the long and disastrous period of the +Anglo-Saxon invasion, ending in the subjugation of the Britons. + +But whatever its history, the 'Gododin' is one of the finest monuments +of Cymric literature. "In the brevity of the narrative, the careless +boldness of the actors as they present themselves, the condensed energy +of the action, and the fierce exultation of the slaughter, together with +the recurring elegiac note, this poem (or poems if it be the work of two +authors) has some of the highest epic qualities. The ideas and manners +are in harmony with the age and the country to which it is referred." + +Like all early songs, the poem was handed down through centuries by oral +tradition. It is now preserved in the 'Book of Aneurin,' a small quarto +manuscript of nineteen leaves of vellum, of the end of the +thirteenth century. + +The 'Gododin' has been published with an English translation and notes +by the Rev. J. Williams (1852); and by the Cymmrodorion Society, with a +translation by Thomas Stevens, in 1885. Interesting information covering +it may be found in Skene's 'Four Ancient Books of Wales' (1866), and in +the article 'Celtic Literature' in this work. + + + + +THE SLAYING OF OWAIN + +[During the battle a conference was held, at which the British leaders +demanded as a condition of peace that part of the land of Gododin be +restored. In reply, the Saxons killed Owain, one of the greatest of the +Cymric bards. Aneurin thus pictures him:--] + + + A man in thought, a boy in form, + He stoutly fought, and sought the storm + Of flashing war that thundered far. + His courser, lank and swift, thick-maned, + Bore on his flank, as on he strained, + The light-brown shield, as on he sped, + With golden spur, in cloak of fur, + His blue sword gleaming. Be there said + No word of mine that does not hold thee dear! + Before thy youth had tasted bridal cheer, + The red death was thy bride! The ravens feed + On thee yet straining to the front, to lead. + Owain, the friend I loved, is dead! + Woe is it that on him the ravens feed! + + +THE FATE OF HOEL, SON OF THE GREAT CIAN + +[From various expressions used by Aneurin in different parts of his +great poem, it is evident that the warriors of whom he sang fortified +themselves, before entering the field of battle, with unstinted +libations of that favorite intoxicant of those days, sweet mead. He +mentions the condition of the warriors as they started for the fray, and +tells of Hoel's fate. This son of Cian had married the daughter of one +of the Bryneish. His marriage caused no abatement of a feud existing +between the tribes to which the husband and wife respectively belonged. +He repudiated her family, disdained to take her away, and was sought and +slain by her insulted father.] + + + The warriors marched to Cattræth, full of mead; + Drunken, but firm of array: great the shame, + But greater the valor no bard can defame. + The war-dogs fought fiercely, red swords seemed to bleed. + Flesh and soul, I had slain thee, myself, had I thought, + Son of Cian, my friend, that thy faith had been bought + By a bribe from the tribe of the Bryneish! But no; + He scorned to take dowry from hands of the foe, + And I, all unhurt, lost a friend in the fight, + Whom the wrath of a father felled down for the slight. + + + +THE GIANT GWRVELING FALLS AT LAST + +[The bard tells the story of Gwrveling's revelry, impulsive bravery, and +final slaughter of the foe before yielding to their prowess.] + + Light of lights--the sun, + Leader of the day, + First to rise and run + His appointed way, + Crowned with many a ray, + Seeks the British sky; + Sees the flight's dismay, + Sees the Britons fly. + The horn in Eiddin's hall + Had sparkled with the wine, + And thither, at a call + To drink and be divine, + He went, to share the feast + Of reapers, wine and mead. + He drank, and so increased + His daring for wild deed. + The reapers sang of war + That lifts its shining wings, + Its shining wings of fire, + Its shields that flutter far. + The bards, too, sang of war, + Of plumed and crested war; + The song rose ever higher. + Not a shield + Escapes the shock, + To the field + They fiercely flock,-- + There to fall. + But of all + Who struck on giant Gwrveling, + Whom he would he struck again, + All he struck in grave were lain, + Ere the bearers came to bring + To his grave stout Gwrveling. + + + + +ANGLO-SAXON LITERATURE + +BY ROBERT SHARP + + +The earliest recorded utterances of a race, whether in poetry or in +prose, become to the representatives of this race in later days a +treasure beyond price. The value of such monuments of the remote past is +manifold. In them we first begin to become really acquainted with +ancestors of the people of to-day, even though we may have read in the +pages of earlier writers of alien descent much that is of great +concurrent interest. Through the medium of the native saga, epic, and +meagre chronicle, we see for the first time their real though dim +outlines, moving in and out of the mists that obscure the dawn of +history; and these outlines become more and more distinct as the +literary remains of succeeding periods become more abundant and present +more varied aspects of life. We come gradually to know what manner of +men and women were these ancestors, what in peace and in war were their +customs, what their family and social relations, their food and drink, +their dress, their systems of law and government, their religion and +morals, what were their art instincts, what were their ideals. + +This is essential material for the construction of history in its +complete sense. And this evidence, when subjected to judicious +criticism, is trustworthy; for the ancient story-teller and poet +reflects the customs and ideas and ideals of his own time, even though +the combination of agencies and the preternatural proportions of the +actors and their deeds belong to the imagination. The historian must +know how to supplement and to give life and interest to the colorless +succession of dates, names, and events of the chronicler, by means of +these imaginative yet truth-bearing creations of the poet. + +Remnants of ancient poetry and legend have again an immediate value in +proportion as they exhibit a free play of fine imagination; that is, +according as they possess the power of stirring to response the +aesthetic feeling of subsequent ages,--as they possess the true poetic +quality. This gift of imagination varies greatly among races as among +individuals, and the earliest manifestations of it frequently throw a +clear light upon apparently eccentric tendencies developed in a +literature in later times. + +For these reasons, added to a natural family pride in them, the early +literary monuments of the Anglo-Saxons should be cherished by us as +among the most valued possessions of the race. + +The first Teutonic language to be reduced to writing was the +Moeso-Gothic. Considerable portions of a translation of the Bible into +that language, made by Bishop Ulfilas in the fourth century, still +remain. But this cannot be called the beginning of a literature; for +there is no trace of original creative impulse. The Gothic movement, +too, seems to have ceased immediately after its beginning. It is +elsewhere that we must seek for the rise of a real Teutonic literature. +We shall not find it till after the lapse of several centuries; and we +find it not among the tribes that remained in the fatherland, nor with +those that had broken into and conquered parts of the Roman empire, only +to be absorbed and to blend with other races into Romanic nations. The +proud distinction belongs to the Low German tribes that had created an +England in Britain. + +The conquest of Britain by the Anglo-Saxons, begun in 449, seemed at +first to promise only retrogression and the ruin of an existing +civilization. These fierce barbarians found among the Celts of Britain a +Roman culture, and the Christian religion exerting its influence for +order and humanity. Their mission seemed to be to destroy both. In their +original homes in the forests of northern Germany, they had come little +if at all into contact with Roman civilization. At any rate, we may +assume that they had felt no Roman influence capable of stemming their +national and ethnical tendencies. We cannot yet solve the difficult +problem of the extent of their mingling with the conquered Celts in +Britain. In spite of learned opinions to the contrary, the evidence now +available seems to point to only a small infusion of Celtic blood. The +conquerors seem to have settled down to their new homes with all the +heathenism and most of the barbarism they had brought from their old +home, a Teutonic people still. + +In these ruthless, plundering barbarians, whose very breath was battle, +and who seemed for the time the very genius of disorder and ruin, there +existed, nevertheless, potentialities of humanity, order, and +enlightenment far exceeding those of the system they displaced. In all +their barbarism there was a certain nobility; their courage was +unflinching; the fidelity, even unto death, of thane to lord, repaid the +open-handed generosity of lord to thane; they honored truth; and even +after we allow for the exaggerated claims made for a chivalrous devotion +that did not exist, we find that they held their women in higher respect +than was usual even among many more enlightened peoples. + +There are few more remarkable narratives in history than that of the +facility and enthusiasm with which the Anglo-Saxons, a people +conservative then as now to the degree of extreme obstinacy, accepted +Christianity and the new learning which followed in the train of the +new religion. After a few lapses into paganism in some localities, we +find these people, who lately had swept Christian Britain with fire and +sword, themselves became most zealous followers of Christ. Under the +influence of the Roman missionaries who, under St. Augustine, had begun +their work in the south in 597 among the Saxons and Jutes, and under the +combined influence of Irish and Roman missionaries in the north and east +among the Angles, theological and secular studies were pursued with +avidity. By the end of the seventh century we find Anglo-Saxon +missionaries, with St. Boniface at their head, carrying Christianity and +enlightenment to the pagan German tribes on the Continent. + +The torch had been passed to the Anglo-Saxon, and a new centre of +learning, York,--the old Roman capital, now the chief city of the +Northumbrian Angles,--became famous throughout Europe. Indeed, York +seemed for a time the chief hope for preserving and advancing Christian +culture; for the danger of a relapse into dense ignorance had become +imminent in the rest of Europe. Bede, born about 673, a product of this +Northumbrian culture, represented the highest learning of his day. He +wrote a vast number of works in Latin, treating nearly all the branches +of knowledge existing in his day. Alcuin, another Northumbrian, born +about 735, was called by Charlemagne to be tutor for himself and his +children, and to organize the educational system of his realm. Other +great names might be added to show the extent and brilliancy of the new +learning. It was more remarkable among the Angles; and only at a later +day, when the great schools of the north had gone up in fire and smoke +in the pitiless invasion of the Northmen, did the West Saxons become the +leaders, almost the only representatives, of the literary impulse among +the Anglo-Saxons. + +It is significant that the first written English that we know of +contains the first Christian English king's provision for peace and +order in his kingdom. The laws of Athelbert, King of Kent, who died in +616, were written down early in the seventh century. This code, as it +exists, is the oldest surviving monument of English prose. The laws of +Ine, King of the West Saxons, were put into writing about 690. These +collections can scarcely be said to have a literary value; but they are +of the utmost importance as throwing light upon the early customs of our +race, and the laws of Ine may be considered as the foundation of modern +English law. Many of these laws were probably much older; but they were +now first codified and systematically enforced. The language employed is +direct, almost crabbed; but occasionally the Anglo-Saxon love of figure +shows itself. To illustrate, I quote, after Brooke, from Earle's +'Anglo-Saxon Literature,' page 153:-- + + "In case any one burn a tree in a wood, and it came to light + who did it, let him pay the full penalty, and give sixty + shillings, _because fire is a thief_. If one fell in a wood + ever so many trees, and it be found out afterwards, let him + pay for three trees, each with thirty shillings. He is not + required to pay for more of them, however many they may be, + _because the axe is a reporter, and not a thief_." [The + italicized sentences are evidently current sayings.] + +But even these remains, important and interesting as they are, may not +be called the beginning of a vernacular literature. It is among the +Angles of Northumbria that we shall find the earliest native and truly +literary awakening in England. Here we perceive the endeavor to do +something more than merely to aid the memory of men in preserving +necessary laws and records of important events. The imagination had +become active. The impulse was felt to give expression to deep emotions, +to sing the deeds and noble character of some hero embodying the +loftiest ideals of the time and the race, to utter deep religious +feeling. There was an effort to do this in a form showing harmony in +theme and presentation. Here we find displayed a feeling for art, often +crude, but still a true and native impulse. This activity produced or +gave definite form to the earliest Anglo-Saxon poetry, a poetry often of +a very high quality; perhaps never of the highest, but always of intense +interest. We may claim even a greater distinction for the early fruit of +Anglo-Saxon inspiration. Mr. Stopford Brooke says:--"With the exception +of perhaps a few Welsh and Irish poems, it is the only vernacular poetry +in Europe, outside of the classic tongues, which belongs to so early a +time as the seventh and eighth centuries." + +The oldest of these poems belong in all save their final form to the +ancient days in Northern Germany. They bear evidence of transmission, +with varying details, from gleeman to gleeman, till they were finally +carried over to England and there edited, often with discordant +interpolations and modifications, by Christian scribes. Tacitus tells us +that at his time songs or poems were a marked feature in the life of the +Germans; but we cannot trace the clue further. To these more ancient +poems many others were added by Christian Northumbrian poets, and we +find that a large body of poetry had grown up in the North before the +movement was entirely arrested by the destroying Northmen. Not one of +these poems, unless we except a few fragmentary verses, has come down to +us in the Northumbrian dialect. Fortunately they had been transcribed by +the less poetically gifted West Saxons into theirs, and it is in this +form that we possess them. + +This poetry shows in subject and in treatment very considerable range. +We have a great poem, epic in character; poems partly narrative and +partly descriptive; poems that may be classed as lyric or elegiac in +character; a large body of verse containing a paraphrase of portions of +the Bible; a collection of 'Riddles'; poems on animals, with morals; and +others difficult to classify. + +The regular verse-form was the alliterative, four-accent line, broken by +a strongly marked cæsura into two half-lines, which were in early +editions printed as short lines. The verse was occasionally extended to +six accents. In the normal verse there were two alliterated words in the +first half of the line, each of which received a strong accent; in the +second half there was one accented word in alliteration with the +alliterated words in the first half, and one other accented word not in +alliteration. A great license was allowed as to the number of unaccented +syllables, and as to their position in regard to the accented ones; and +this lent great freedom and vigor to the verse. When well constructed +and well read, it must have been very effective. There were of course +many variations from the normal number, three, of alliterated words, as +it would be impossible to find so many for every line. + +Something of the quality of this verse-form may be felt in translations +which aim at the same effect. Notice the result in the following from +Professor Gummere's version of as election from 'Beowulf':-- + + "Then the warriors went, as the way was showed to them, + Under Heorot's roof; the hero stepped, + Hardy 'neath helm, till the hearth he neared." + +In these verses it will be noted that the alliteration is complete in +the first and third, and that in the second it is incomplete. + +A marked feature of the Anglo-Saxon poetry is parallelism, or the +repetition of an idea by means of new phrases or epithets, most +frequently within the limits of a single sentence. This proceeds from +the desire to emphasize attributes ascribed to the deity, or to some +person or object prominent in the sentence. But while the added epithets +have often a cumulative force, and are picturesque, yet it must be +admitted that they sometimes do not justify their introduction. This may +be best illustrated by an example. The following, in the translation of +Earle, is Cædmon's first hymn, composed between 658 and 680, and the +earliest piece of Anglo-Saxon poetry that we know to have had its origin +in England:-- + + "Now shall we glorify the guardian of heaven's realm, + The Maker's might and the thought of his mind; + The work of the Glory-Father, how He of every wonder, + He, the Lord eternal, laid the foundation. + He shaped erst for the sons of men + Heaven, their roof, Holy Creator; + The middle world, He, mankind's sovereign, + Eternal captain, afterwards created, + The land for men, Lord Almighty." + +Many of the figurative expressions are exceedingly vigorous and poetic; +some to our taste not so much so. Note the epithets in "the lank wolf," +"the wan raven," "bird greedy for slaughter," "the dewy-winged eagle," +"dusky-coated," "crooked-beaked," "horny-beaked," "the maid, +fair-cheeked," "curly-locked," "elf-bright." To the Anglo-Saxon poet, +much that we call metaphorical was scarcely more than literal statement. +As the object pictured itself to his responsive imagination, he +expressed it with what was to him a direct realism. His lines are filled +with a profusion of metaphors of every degree of effectiveness. To him +the sea was "the water-street," "the swan-path," "the strife of the +waves," "the whale-path"; the ship was "the foamy-necked floater," "the +wave-farer," "the sea-wood," "the sea-horse"; the arrow was "the battle +adder"; the battle was "spear-play," "sword-play"; the prince was "the +ring-giver," "the gold-friend"; the throne was "the gift-stool"; the +body, "the bone-house"; the mind, "the breast-hoard." + +Indeed, as it has been pointed out by many writers, the metaphor is +almost the only figure of the Anglo-Saxon poetry. The more developed +simile belongs to a riper and more reflective culture, and is +exceedingly rare in this early native product. It has been noted that +'Beowulf,' a poem of three thousand one hundred and eighty-four lines, +contains only four or five simple similes, and only one that is fully +carried out. "The ship glides away likest to a bird," "The monster's +eyes gleam like fire," are simple examples cited by Ten Brink, who gives +also the elaborate one, "The sword-hilt melted, likened to ice, when the +Father looseneth the chain of frost, and unwindeth the wave-ropes." But +even this simile is almost obliterated by the crowding metaphors. + +Intensity, an almost abrupt directness, a lack of explanatory detail, +are more general characteristics, though in greatly varying degrees. As +some critic has well said, the Anglo-Saxon poet seems to presuppose a +knowledge of his subject-matter by those he addresses. Such a style is +capable of great swiftness of movement, and is well suited to rapid +description and narrative; but at times roughness or meagreness results. + +The prevailing tone is one of sadness. In the lyric poetry, this is so +decided that all the Anglo-Saxon lyrics have been called elegies. This +note seems to be the echo of the struggle with an inhospitable climate, +dreary with rain, ice, hail, and snow; and of the uncertainties of life, +and the certainty of death. Suffering was never far off, and everything +was in the hands of Fate. This is true at least of the earlier poetry, +and the note is rarely absent even in the Christian lyrics. A more +cheerful strain is sometimes heard, as in the 'Riddles,' but it is +rather the exception; and any alleged humor is scarcely more than a +suspicion. Love and sentiment, in the modern sense, are not made the +subject of Anglo-Saxon poetry, and this must mean that they did not +enter into the Anglo-Saxon life with the same intensity as into modern +life. The absence of this beautiful motive has, to some degree, its +compensation in the exceeding moral purity of the whole literature. It +is doubtful whether it has its equal in this respect. + +Anglo-Saxon prose displays, as a general thing, a simple, direct, and +clear style. There is, of course, a considerable difference between the +prose of the earlier and that of the later period, and individual +writers show peculiarities. It displays throughout a marked contrast +with the poetic style, in its freedom from parallelisms in thought and +phrase, from inversions, archaisms, and the almost excessive wealth of +metaphor and epithet. In its early stages, there is apparent perhaps a +poverty of resource, a lack of flexibility; but this charge cannot be +sustained against the best prose of the later period. In the +translations from the Latin it shows a certain stiffness, and becomes +sometimes involved, in the too conscientious effort of the translator to +follow the classic original. + +No attempt will be made here to notice, or even to name, all the large +number of literary works of the Anglo-Saxons. It must be sufficient to +examine briefly a few of the most important and characteristic +productions of this really remarkable and prolific movement. + +The 'Song of Widsith, the Far Traveler,' is now generally conceded to +be, in part at least, the oldest existing Anglo-Saxon poem. We do not +know when it assumed its present form; but it is certain that it was +after the conversion of the Anglo-Saxons, since it has interpolations +from the Christian scribe. The poem seems to give evidence of being a +growth from an original song by a wandering scôp, or poet, who claims to +have visited the Gothic king Eormanric, "the grim violator of treaties," +who died in 375 or 376. But other kings are mentioned who lived in the +first half of the sixth century. It is probable, then, that it was begun +in the fourth century, and having been added to by successive gleemen, +as it was transmitted orally, was finally completed in the earlier part +of the sixth. It was then carried over to England, and there first +written down in Northumbria. It possesses great interest because of its +antiquity, and because of the light it throws upon the life of the +professional singer in those ancient times among the Teutons. It has a +long list of kings and places, partly historical, partly mythical or not +identified. The poem, though narrative and descriptive, is also lyrical. +We find here the strain of elegiac sadness, of regretful retrospection, +so generally present in Anglo-Saxon poetry of lyric character, and +usually much more pronounced than in 'Widsith.' + +'Beowulf' is, in many respects, the most important poetical monument of +the Anglo-Saxons. The poem is undoubtedly of heathen origin, and the +evidence that it was a gradual growth, the result of grouping several +distinct songs around one central figure, seems unmistakable. We may +trace it, in its earliest stages, to the ancient home of the Angles in +North Germany. It was transplanted to England in the migration of the +tribes, and was edited in the present form by some unknown Northumbrian +poet. When this occurred we do not know certainly, but there seems good +reason for assuming the end of the seventh or the beginning of the +eighth century as the time. + +The poem is epic in cast and epic in proportion. Although, judged by the +Homeric standard, it falls short in many respects of the complete form, +yet it may without violence be called an epic. The central figure, +Beowulf, a nobly conceived hero, possessing immense strength, +unflinching courage, a never-swerving sense of honor, magnanimity, and +generosity, the friend and champion of the weak against evil however +terrible, is the element of unity in the whole poem. It is in itself a +great honor to the race that they were able to conceive as their ideal a +hero so superior in all that constitutes true nobility to the Greek +ideal, Achilles. It is true that the poem consists of two parts, +connected by little more than the fact that they have the same hero at +different times of life; that episodes are introduced that do not blend +perfectly into the unity of the poem; and that there is a lack of repose +and sometimes of lucidity. Yet there is a dignity and vigor, and a large +consistency in the treatment of the theme, that is epic. Ten Brink +says:--"The poet's intensity is not seldom imparted to the listener.... +The portrayals of battles, although much less realistic than the Homeric +descriptions, are yet at times superior to them, in so far as the +demoniac rage of war elicits from the Germanic fancy a crowding +affluence of vigorous scenes hastily projected in glittering lights of +grim half gloom." In addition to its great poetic merit, 'Beowulf' is of +the greatest importance to us on account of the many fine pictures of +ancient Teutonic life it presents. + +In the merest outline, the argument of 'Beowulf' is as +follows:--Hrothgar, King of the Gar-Danes, has built a splendid hall, +called Heorot. This is the scene of royal festivity until a monster from +the fen, Grendel, breaks into it by night and devours thirty of the +king's thanes. From that time the hall is desolate, for no one can cope +with Grendel, and Hrothgar is in despair. Beowulf, the noble hero of the +Geats, in Sweden, hears of the terrible calamity, and with fourteen +companions sails across the sea to undertake the adventure. Hrothgar +receives him joyfully, and after a splendid banquet gives Heorot into +his charge. During the following night, Beowulf is attacked by Grendel; +and after one of his companions has been slain, he tears out the arm of +the monster, who escapes, mortally hurt, to his fen. On the morrow all +is rejoicing; but when night falls, the monster's mother attacks Heorot, +and kills Hrothgar's favorite thane. The next day, Beowulf pursues her +to her den under the waters of the fen, and after a terrific combat +slays her. The hero returns home to Sweden laden with gifts. This ends +the main thread of the first incident. In the second incident, after an +interval of fifty years, we find Beowulf an old man. He has been for +many years king of the Geats. A fire-breathing dragon, the guardian of a +great treasure, is devastating the land. The heroic old king, +accompanied by a party of thanes, attacks the dragon. All the thanes +save one are cowardly; but the old hero, with the aid of the faithful +one, slays the dragon, not, however, till he is fatally injured. Then +follow his death and picturesque burial. + +In this sketch, stirring episodes, graphic descriptions, and fine +effects are all sacrificed. The poem itself is a noble one and the +English people may well be proud of preserving in it the first epic +production of the Teutonic race. + +The 'Fight at Finnsburg' is a fine fragment of epic cast. The Finn saga +is at least as old as the Beowulf poem, since the gleeman at Hrothgar's +banquet makes it his theme. From the fragment and the gleeman's song we +perceive that the situation here is much more complex than is usual in +Anglo-Saxon poems, and involves a tragic conflict of passion. +Hildeburh's brother is slain through the treachery of her husband, Finn; +her son, partaking of Finn's faithlessness, falls at the hands of her +brother's men; in a subsequent counterplot, her husband is slain. +Besides the extraordinary vigor of the narrative, the theme has special +interest in that a woman is really the central figure, though not +treated as a heroine. + +A favorite theme in the older lyric poems is the complaint of some +wandering scôp, driven from his home by the exigencies of those perilous +times. Either the singer has been bereft of his patron by death, or he +has been supplanted in his favor by some successful rival; and he passes +in sorrowful review his former happiness, and contrasts it with his +present misery. The oldest of these lyrics are of pagan origin, though +usually with Christian additions. + +In the 'Wanderer,' an unknown poet pictures the exile who has fled +across the sea from his home. He is utterly lonely. He must lock his +sorrow in his heart. In his dream he embraces and kisses his lord, and +lays his head upon his knee, as of old. He awakes, and sees nothing but +the gray sea, the snow and hail, and the birds dipping their wings in +the waves. And so he reflects: the world is full of care; we are all in +the hands of Fate. Then comes the Christian sentiment: happy is he who +seeks comfort with his Father in heaven, with whom alone all things +are enduring. + +Another fine poem of this class, somewhat similar to the 'Wanderer,' is +the 'Seafarer.' It is, however, distinct in detail and treatment, and +has its own peculiar beauty. In the 'Fortunes of Men,' the poet treats +the uncertainty of all things earthly, from the point of view of the +parent forecasting the ill and the good the future may bring to his +sons. 'Deor's Lament' possesses a genuine lyrical quality of high order. +The singer has been displaced by a rival, and finds consolation in his +grief from reciting the woes that others have endured, and reflects in +each instance, "That was got over, and so this may be." Other poems on +other subjects might be noticed here; as 'The Husband's Message,' where +the love of husband for wife is the theme, and 'The Ruin,' which +contains reflections suggested by a ruined city. + +It is a remarkable fact that only two of these poets are known to us by +name, Cædmon and Cynewulf. We find the story of the inspiration, work, +and death of Cædmon, the earlier of these, told in the pages of Bede. +The date of his birth is not given, but his death fell in 680. He was a +Northumbrian, and was connected in a lay capacity with the great +monastery of Whitby. He was uneducated, and not endowed in his earlier +life with the gift of song. One night, after he had fled in +mortification from a feast where all were required to improvise and +sing, he received, as he slept, the divine inspiration. The next day he +made known his new gift to the authorities of the monastery. After he +had triumphantly made good his claims, he was admitted to holy orders, +and began his work of paraphrasing into noble verse portions of the +Scriptures that were read to him. Of the body of poetry that comes down +to us under his name, we cannot be sure that any is his, unless we +except the short passage given here. It is certainly the work of +different poets, and varies in merit. The evidence seems conclusive that +he was a poet of high order, that his influence was very great, and that +many others wrote in his manner. The actors and the scenery of the +Cædmonian poetry are entirely Anglo-Saxon, only the names and the +outline of the narrative being biblical; and the spirit of battle that +breathes in some passages is the same that we find in the heathen epic. + +Cynewulf was most probably a Northumbrian, though this is sometimes +questioned. The dates of his birth and death are unknown. It seems +established, however, that his work belongs to the eighth century. A +great deal of controversy has arisen over a number of poems that have +been ascribed to him and denied to him with equal persistency. But we +stand upon sure ground in regard to four poems, the 'Christ,' the 'Fates +of the Apostles,' 'Juliana,' and 'Elene'; for he has signed them in +runes. If the runic enigma in the first of the 'Riddles' has been +correctly interpreted, then they, or portions of them, are his also. But +about this there is much doubt. The 'Andreas' and the 'Dream of the +Rood' may be mentioned as being of exceptional interest among the poems +that are almost certainly his. In the latter, he tells, in a personal +strain, the story of the appearance to him of the holy cross, and of his +conversion and dedication of himself to the service of Christ. The +'Elene,' generally considered the finest of his poems, is the story of +the miraculous finding of the holy cross by St. Helena, the mother of +the Emperor Constantine. The poet has lent great charm to the tradition +in his treatment. The poem sounds a triumphant note throughout, till we +reach the epilogue, where the poet speaks in his own person and in a +sadder tone. + +The quality of Cynewulf's poetry is unequal; but when he is at his best, +he is a great poet and a great artist. His personality appears in direct +subjective utterance more plainly than does that of any other +Anglo-Saxon poet. + +While we must pass over many fine Anglo-Saxon poems without mention, +there are two that must receive some notice. 'Judith' is an epic based +upon the book of Judith in the 'Apocrypha.' Only about one-fourth of it +has survived. The author is still unknown, in spite of many intelligent +efforts to determine to whom the honor belongs. The dates assigned to it +vary from the seventh to the tenth century; here, too, uncertainty +prevails: but we are at least sure that it is one of the best of the +Anglo-Saxon poems. It has been said that this work shows a more definite +plan and more conscious art than any other Anglo-Saxon poem. Brooke +finds it sometimes conventional in the form of expression, and denies it +the highest rank for that reason. But he does not seem to sustain the +charge. The two principal characters, the dauntless Judith and the +brutal Holofernes, stand out with remarkable distinctness, and a fine +dramatic quality has been noted by several critics. The epithets and +metaphors, the description of the drunken debauch, and the swift, +powerful narrative of the battle and the rout of the Assyrians, are in +the best Anglo-Saxon epic strain. The poem is distinctly Christian; for +the Hebrew heroine, with a naïve anachronism, prays thus: "God of +Creation, Spirit of Consolation, Son of the Almighty, I pray for Thy +mercy to me, greatly in need of it. Glory of the Trinity." + +'The Battle of Maldon' is a ballad, containing an account of a fight +between the Northmen and the East Saxons under the Aldorman, Byrhtnoth. +The incident is mentioned in one MS. of the Chronicle under the date of +991; in another, under the date of 993. The poem is exceedingly graphic. +The poet seems filled with intense feeling, and may have been a +spectator, or may indeed have taken part in the struggle. He tells how +the brave old Aldorman disdains to use the advantage of his position, +which bade fair to give him victory. Like a boy, he cannot take a dare, +but fatuously allows the enemy to begin the battle upon an equal footing +with his own men. He pays for his noble folly with his life and the +defeat of his army. The devotion of the Aldorman's hearth-companions, +who refuse to survive their lord, and with brave words meet their death, +is finely described. But not all are true; some, who have been +especially favored, ignobly flee. These are treated with the racial +contempt for cowards. The poem has survived in fragmentary form, and the +name of the poet is not known. + +As distinguished from all poetical remains of such literature, the +surviving prose of the Anglo-Saxons, though extensive, and of the +greatest interest and value, is less varied in subject and manner than +their poetry. It admits of brief treatment. The earliest known specimens +of Anglo-Saxon prose writing have been already mentioned. These do not +constitute the beginning of a literature, yet, with the rest of the +extensive collection of Anglo-Saxon laws that has survived, they are of +the greatest importance to students. Earle quotes Dr. Reinhold Schmid as +saying, "No other Germanic nation has bequeathed to us out of its +earliest experience so rich a treasure of original legal documents as +the Anglo-Saxon nation has,"--only another instance of the precocity of +our ancestors. + +To the West Saxons belongs nearly the whole of Anglo-Saxon prose. +Whatever may have existed in Northumbria perished in the inroads of the +Northmen, except such parts as may have been incorporated in West Saxon +writings. It will be remembered, however, that the great Northumbrian +prose writers had held to the Latin as their medium. The West Saxon +prose literature may be said to begin in Alfred's reign. + +The most important production that we have to consider is the famous +Anglo-Saxon 'Chronicle.' It covers with more or less completeness the +period from 449 to 1154. This was supplemented by fanciful genealogies +leading back to Woden, or even to Adam. It is not known when the +practice of jotting down in the native speech notices of contemporary +events began, but probably in very early times. It is believed, however, +that no intelligent effort to collect and present them with order and +system was made until the middle of the ninth century. In the oldest of +the seven MSS. in which it has come down to us, we have the 'Chronicle' +to 891, as it was written down in Alfred's time and probably under his +supervision. + +The meagreness of the earliest entries and the crudeness of the +language, together with occasional picturesque force, indicate that many +of them were drawn from current song or tradition. The style and +fullness of the entries differ greatly throughout, as might be expected, +since the 'Chronicle' is the work of so many hands. From mere bare +notices they vary to strong, full narrative and description. Indeed, the +'Chronicle' contains some of the most effective prose produced by the +Anglo-Saxons; and in one instance, under the date 937, the annalist +describes the battle of Brunanburh in a poem of considerable merit. But +we know the name of no single contributor. + +This 'Chronicle' is the oldest and most important work of the kind +produced outside of the classical languages in Europe. It is meagre in +places, and its entire trustworthiness has been questioned. But it and +Bede's 'Ecclesiastical History,' supplemented by other Anglo-Saxon +writings, constitute the basis of early English history; and this fact +alone entitles it to the highest rank in importance among ancient +documents. + +A large body of Anglo-Saxon prose, nearly all of it translation or +adaptation of Latin works, has come down to us under the name of King +Alfred. A peculiar interest attaches to these works. They belong to a +period when the history of England depended more than at any other time +upon the ability and devotion of one man; and that man, the most heroic +and the greatest of English kings, was himself the author of them. + +When Alfred became king, in 871, his throne seemed tottering to its +fall. Practically all the rest of England was at the feet of the +ruthless Northmen, and soon Alfred himself was little better than a +fugitive. But by his military skill, which was successful if not +brilliant, and by his never-wavering devotion and English persistency, +he at last freed the southern part of the island from his merciless and +treacherous enemies, and laid the firm foundation of West Saxon +supremacy. If Alfred had failed in any respect to be the great king that +he was, English history would have been changed for all time. + +Although Alfred had saved his kingdom, yet it was a kingdom almost in +ruins. The hopeful advance of culture had been entirely arrested. The +great centres of learning had been utterly destroyed in the north, and +little remained intact in the south. And even worse than this was the +demoralization of all classes, and an indisposition to renewed effort. +There was, moreover, a great scarcity of books. + +Alfred showed himself as great in peace as in war, and at once set to +work to meet all those difficulties. To supply the books that were so +urgently needed, he found time in the midst of his perplexing cares to +translate from the Latin into the native speech such works as he +thought would supply the most pressing want. This was the more necessary +from the prevailing ignorance of Latin. It is likely that portions of +the works that go under his name were produced under his supervision by +carefully selected co-workers. But it is certain that in a large part of +them we may see the work of the great Alfred's own hand. + +He has used his own judgment in these translations, omitting whatever he +did not think would be immediately helpful to his people, and making +such additions as he thought might be of advantage. Just these additions +have the greatest interest for us. He translated, for instance, +Orosius's 'History'; a work in itself of inferior worth, but as an +attempt at a universal history from the Christian point of view, he +thought it best suited to the needs of his people. The Anglo-Saxon +version contains most interesting additions of original matter by +Alfred. They consist of accounts of the voyages of Ohtere, a Norwegian, +who was the first, so far as we know, to sail around the North Cape and +into the White Sea, and of Wulfstan, who explored parts of the coast of +the Baltic. These narratives give us our first definite information +about the lands and people of these regions, and appear to have been +taken down by the king directly as related by the explorers. Alfred +added to this 'History' also a description of Central Europe, which +Morley calls "the only authentic record of the Germanic nations written +by a contemporary so early as the ninth century." + +In Gregory's 'Pastoral Care' we have Alfred's closest translation. It is +a presentation of "the ideal Christian pastor" (Ten Brink), and was +intended for the benefit of the lax Anglo-Saxon priests. Perhaps the +work that appealed most strongly to Alfred himself was Boethius's +'Consolations of Philosophy'; and in his full translation and adaptation +of this book we see the hand and the heart of the good king. We shall +mention one other work of Alfred's, his translation of the already +frequently mentioned 'Historia Ecclesiastica Anglorum' of the Venerable +Bede. This great work Alfred, with good reason, considered to be of the +greatest possible value to his people; and the king has given it +additional value for us. + +Alfred was not a great scholar. The wonder is that, in the troublous +times of his youth, he had learned even the rudiments. The language in +his translations, however, though not infrequently affected for the +worse by the Latin idiom of the original, is in the main free from +ornament of any kind, simple and direct, and reflects in its sincerity +the noble character of the great king. + +The period between the death of Alfred (901) and the end of the tenth +century was deficient in works of literary value, except an entry here +and there in the 'Chronicle.' "Alfric's is the last great name in the +story of our literature before the Conquest," says Henry Morley. He +began writing about the end of the tenth century, and we do not know +when his work and his life ended. This gentle priest, as he appears to +us through his writings, following Alfred's example, wrote not from +personal ambition, but for the betterment of his fellow-men. His style +is eminently lucid, fluent, forcible, and of graceful finish. Earle +observes of it:--"The English of these Homilies is splendid; indeed, we +may confidently say that here English appears fully qualified to be the +medium of the highest learning." This is high praise, and should be well +considered by those disposed to consider the Anglo-Saxon as a rude +tongue, incapable of great development in itself, and only enabled by +the Norman infusion to give expression to a deep and broad culture. + +Alfric's works in Anglo-Saxon--for he wrote also in Latin--were very +numerous, embracing two series of homilies, theological writings of many +kinds, translations of portions of the Bible, an English (Anglo-Saxon) +grammar, adapted from a Latin work, a Latin dictionary, and many other +things of great use in their day and of great interest in ours. + +The names of other writers and of other single works might well be added +here. But enough has been said, perhaps, to show that a great and +hopeful development of prose took place among the West Saxons. It must +be admitted that the last years of the Anglo-Saxon nationality before +the coming of the Normans show a decline in literary productiveness of a +high order. The causes of this are to be found chiefly in the political +and ecclesiastical history of the time. Wars with the Northmen, internal +dissensions, religious controversies, the greater cultivation of Latin +by the priesthood, all contributed to it. But hopeful signs of a new +revival were not wanting. The language had steadily developed with the +enlightenment of the people, and was fast becoming fit to meet any +demands that might be made upon it, when the great catastrophe of the +Norman Conquest came, and with it practically the end of the historical +and distinctive Anglo-Saxon literature. + +[Illustration: Signature: "Robert Sharp"] + + +FROM 'BEOWULF' + +[The Spear-Danes intrust the dead body of King Scyld to the sea, in a +splendidly adorned ship. He had come to them mysteriously, alone in a ship, +when an infant.] + + At the hour that was fated + Scyld then departed to the All-Father's keeping + War-like to wend him; away then they bare him + To the flood of the current, his fond-loving comrades. + As himself he had bidden, while the friend of the Scyldings + Word-sway wielded, and the well-lovèd land prince + Long did rule them. The ring-stemmèd vessel, + Bark of the atheling, lay there at anchor, + Icy in glimmer and eager for sailing; + The beloved leader laid they down there, + Giver of rings, on the breast of the vessel, + The famed by the mainmast. A many of jewels, + Of fretted embossings, from far-lands brought over, + Was placed near at hand then; and heard I not ever + That a folk ever furnished a float more superbly + With weapons of warfare, weeds for the battle, + Bills and burnies; on his bosom sparkled + Many a jewel that with him must travel + On the flush of the flood afar on the current. + And favors no fewer they furnished him soothly, + Excellent folk-gems, than others had given him + Lone on the main, the merest of infants: + And a gold-fashioned standard they stretched under heaven + High o'er his head, let the holm-currents bear him, + Seaward consigned him: sad was their spirit, + Their mood very mournful. Men are not able + Soothly to tell us, they in halls who reside, + Heroes under heaven, to what haven he hied. + + They guard the wolf-coverts, + Lands inaccessible, wind-beaten nesses, + Fearfullest fen-deeps, where a flood from the mountains + 'Neath mists of the nesses netherward rattles, + The stream under earth: not far is it henceward + Measured by mile-lengths the mere-water standeth, + Which forests hang over, with frost-whiting covered, + A firm-rooted forest, the floods overshadow. + There ever at night one an ill-meaning portent, + A fire-flood may see; 'mong children of men + None liveth so wise that wot of the bottom; + Though harassed by hounds the heath-stepper seek for, + Fly to the forest, firm-antlered he-deer, + Spurred from afar, his spirit he yieldeth, + His life on the shore, ere in he will venture + To cover his head. Uncanny the place is: + Thence upward ascendeth the surging of waters, + Wan to the welkin, when the wind is stirring + The weather unpleasing, till the air groweth gloomy, + Then the heavens lower. + +[Beowulf has plunged into the water of the mere in pursuit of Grendel's +mother, and is a whole day in reaching the bottom. He is seized by the +monster and carried to her cavern, where the combat ensues.] + + The earl then discovered he was down in some cavern + Where no water whatever anywise harmed him, + And the clutch of the current could come not anear him, + Since the roofed-hall prevented; brightness a-gleaming, + Fire-light he saw, flashing resplendent. + The good one saw then the sea-bottom's monster, + The mighty mere-woman: he made a great onset + With weapon-of-battle; his hand not desisted + From striking; the war-blade struck on her head then + A battle-song greedy. The stranger perceived then + The sword would not bite, her life would not injure, + But the falchion failed the folk-prince when straitened: + Erst had it often onsets encountered, + Oft cloven the helmet, the fated one's armor; + 'Twas the first time that ever the excellent jewel + Had failed of its fame. Firm-mooded after, + Not heedless of valor, but mindful of glory + Was Higelac's kinsman; the hero-chief angry + Cast then his carved-sword covered with jewels + That it lay on the earth, hard and steel-pointed; + He hoped in his strength, his hand-grapple sturdy. + So any must act whenever he thinketh + To gain him in battle glory unending, + And is reckless of living. The lord of the War-Geats + (He shrank not from battle) seized by the shoulder + The mother of Grendel; then mighty in struggle + Swung he his enemy, since his anger was kindled, + That she fell to the floor. With furious grapple + She gave him requital early thereafter, + And stretched out to grab him; the strongest of warriors + Faint-mooded stumbled, till he fell in his traces, + Foot-going champion. Then she sat on the hall-guest + And wielded her war-knife wide-bladed, flashing, + For her son would take vengeance, her one only bairn, + His breast-armor woven bode on his shoulder; + It guarded his life, the entrance defended + 'Gainst sword-point and edges. Ecgtheow's son there + Had fatally journeyed, champion of Geatmen, + In the arms of the ocean, had the armor not given, + Close-woven corselet, comfort and succor, + And had God Most Holy not awarded the victory, + All-knowing lord; easily did heaven's + Ruler most righteous arrange it with justice; + Uprose he erect ready for battle. + Then he saw 'mid the war-gems a weapon of victory, + An ancient giant-sword, of edges a-doughty, + Glory of warriors: of weapons 'twas choicest, + Only 'twas larger than any man else was + Able to bear to the battle-encounter, + The good and splendid work of the giants. + He grasped then the sword-hilt, knight of the Scyldings, + Bold and battle-grim, brandished his ring-sword. + Hopeless of living, hotly he smote her, + That the fiend-woman's neck firmly it grappled, + Broke through her bone-joints, the bill fully pierced her + Fate-cursed body, she fell to the ground then: + The hand-sword was bloody, the hero exulted. + +[Fifty years have elapsed. The aged Beowulf has died from the injuries +received in his struggle with the Fire Drake. His body is burned, and a +barrow erected.] + + A folk of the Geatmen got him then ready + A pile on the earth strong for the burning, + Behung with helmets, hero-knight's targets, + And bright-shining burnies, as he begged they should have them; + Then wailing war-heroes their world-famous chieftain, + Their liege-lord beloved, laid in the middle. + Soldiers began then to make on the barrow + The largest of dead fires: dark o'er the vapor + The smoke cloud ascended; the sad-roaring fire, + Mingled with weeping (the-wind-roar subsided) + Till the building of bone it had broken to pieces, + Hot in the heart. Heavy in spirit + They mood-sad lamented the men-leader's ruin.... + The men of the Weders made accordingly + A hill on the height, high and extensive, + Of sea-going sailors to be seen from a distance, + And the brave one's beacon built where the fire was, + In ten days' space, with a wall surrounded it, + As wisest of world-folk could most worthily plan it. + They placed in the barrow rings and jewels, + All such ornaments as erst in the treasure + War-mooded men had won in possession: + The earnings of earlmen to earth they intrusted, + The gold to the dust, where yet it remaineth + As useless to mortals as in foregoing eras. + 'Round the dead-mound rode then the doughty-in-battle, + Bairns of all twelve of the chiefs of the people, + More would they mourn, lament for their ruler, + Speak in measure, mention him with pleasure; + Weighed his worth, and his warlike achievements + Mightily commended, as 'tis meet one praise his + Liege lord in words and love him in spirit, + When forth from his body he fares to destruction. + So lamented mourning the men of the Geats, + Fond loving vassals, the fall of their lord, + Said he was gentlest of kings under heaven, + Mildest of men and most philanthropic, + Friendliest to folk-troops and fondest of honor. + +By permission of John Leslie Hall, the Translator, and D.C. Heath & Co., +Publishers. + + + DEOR'S LAMENT + + Wayland often wandered in exile, + doughty earl, ills endur'd, + had for comrades care and longing, + winter-cold wandering; woe oft found + since Nithhad brought such need upon him,-- + laming wound on a lordlier man. + That pass'd over,--and this may, too! + + In Beadohild's breast, her brothers' death + wrought no such ill as her own disgrace, + when she had openly understood + her maidhood vanished; she might no wise + think how the case could thrive at all. + That pass'd over,--and this may, too! + + We have heard enough of Hild's disgrace; + heroes of Geat were homeless made, + and sorrow stole their sleep away. + That pass'd over,--and this may, too! + + Theodoric held for thirty winters + Mæring's burg, as many have known. + That pass'd over,--and this may, too! + + We have also heard of Ermanric's + wolfish mind; wide was his sway + o'er the Gothic race,--a ruler grim. + Sat many a man in misery bound, + waited but woe, and wish'd amain + that ruin might fall on the royal house. + That pass'd over,--and this may, too! + + Sitteth one sighing, sunder'd from happiness; + all's dark within him; he deems forsooth + that his share of evils shall endless be. + Let such bethink him that thro' this world + mighty God sends many changes: + to earls a plenty honor he shows, + ease and bliss; to others, sorrow. + + Now I will say of myself, and how + I was singer once to the sons of Heoden, + dear to my master, and Deor was my name. + Long were the winters my lord was kind, + happy my lot,--till Heorrenda now + by grace of singing has gained the land + which the "haven of heroes" erewhile gave me. + That pass'd over,--and this may, too! + +Translation of F.B. Gummere in the Atlantic Monthly, February, 1891: by +permission of Houghton, Mifflin and Company. + + + + + FROM 'THE WANDERER' + + Oft-times the Wanderer waiteth God's mercy, + Sad and disconsolate though he may be, + Far o'er the watery track must he travel, + Long must he row o'er the rime-crusted sea-- + Plod his lone exile-path--Fate is severe. + Mindful of slaughter, his kinsman friends' death, + Mindful of hardships, the wanderer saith:-- + Oft must I lonely, when dawn doth appear, + Wail o'er my sorrow--since living is none + Whom I may whisper my heart's undertone. + Know I full well that in man it is noble + Fast in his bosom his sorrow to bind. + Weary at heart, yet his Fate is unyielding-- + Help cometh not to his suffering mind. + Therefore do those who are thirsting for glory + Bind in their bosom each pain's biting smart. + Thus must I often, afar from my kinsmen, + Fasten in fetters my home-banished heart. + Now since the day when my dear prince departed + Wrapped in the gloom of his dark earthen grave, + I, a poor exile, have wandered in winter + Over the flood of the foam-frozen wave, + Seeking, sad-hearted, some giver of treasure, + Some one to cherish me friendless--some chief + Able to guide me with wisdom of counsel, + Willing to greet me and comfort my grief. + He who hath tried it, and he alone, knoweth + How harsh a comrade is comfortless Care + Unto the man who hath no dear protector, + Gold wrought with fingers nor treasure so fair. + Chill is his heart as he roameth in exile-- + Thinketh of banquets his boyhood saw spread; + Friends and companions partook of his pleasures-- + Knoweth he well that all friendless and lordless + Sorrow awaits him a long bitter while;-- + Yet, when the spirits of Sorrow and Slumber + Fasten with fetters the orphaned exile, + Seemeth him then that he seeth in spirit, + Meeteth and greeteth his master once more, + Layeth his head on his lord's loving bosom, + Just as he did in the dear days of yore. + But he awaketh, forsaken and friendless, + Seeth before him the black billows rise, + Seabirds are bathing and spreading their feathers, + Hailsnow and hoar-frost are hiding the skies. + Then in his heart the more heavily wounded, + Longeth full sore for his loved one, his own, + Sad is the mind that remembereth kinsmen, + Greeting with gladness the days that are gone. + Seemeth him then on the waves of the ocean + Comrades are swimming,--well-nigh within reach,-- + Yet from the spiritless lips of the swimmers + Cometh familiar no welcoming speech. + So is his sorrow renewed and made sharper + When the sad exile so often must send + Thoughts of his suffering spirit to wander + Wide o'er the waves where the rough billows blend. + So, lest the thought of my mind should be clouded, + Close must I prison my sadness of heart, + When I remember my bold comrade-kinsmen, + How from the mede-hall I saw them depart. + Thus is the earth with its splendor departing-- + Day after day it is passing away, + Nor may a mortal have much of true wisdom + Till his world-life numbers many a day. + He who is wise, then, must learn to be patient-- + Not too hot-hearted, too hasty of speech, + Neither too weak nor too bold in the battle, + Fearful, nor joyous, nor greedy to reach, + Neither too ready to boast till he knoweth-- + Man must abide, when he vaunted his pride, + Till strong of mind he hath surely determined + Whether his purpose can be turned aside. + Surely the wise man may see like the desert + How the whole wealth of the world lieth waste, + How through the earth the lone walls are still standing, + Blown by the wind and despoiled and defaced. + Covered with frost, the proud dwellings are ruined, + Crumbled the wine-halls--the king lieth low, + Robbed of his pride--and his troop have all fallen + Proud by the wall--some, the spoil of the foe, + War took away--and some the fierce sea-fowl + Over the ocean--and some the wolf gray + Tore after death--and yet others the hero + Sad-faced has laid in earth-caverns away. + Thus at his will the eternal Creator + Famished the fields of the earth's ample fold-- + Until her dwellers abandoned their feast-boards. + Void stood the work of the giants of old. + One who was viewing full wisely this wall-place, + Pondering deeply his dark, dreary life. + Spake then as follows, his past thus reviewing, + Years full of slaughter and struggle and strife:-- + "Wither, alas, have my horses been carried? + Whither, alas, are my kinspeople gone? + Where is my giver of treasure and feasting? + Where are the joys of the hall I have known? + Ah, the bright cup--and the corseleted warrior-- + Ah, the bright joy of a king's happy lot! + How the glad time has forever departed, + Swallowed in darkness, as though it were not! + Standeth, instead of the troop of young warriors, + Stained with the bodies of dragons, a wall-- + The men were cut down in their pride by the spearpoints-- + Blood-greedy weapons--but noble their fall. + Earth is enwrapped in the lowering tempest, + Fierce on the stone-cliff the storm rushes forth, + Cold winter-terror, the night shade is dark'ning, + Hail-storms are laden with death from the north. + All full of hardships is earthly existence-- + Here the decrees of the Fates have their sway-- + Fleeting is treasure and fleeting is friendship-- + Here man is transient, here friends pass away. + Earth's widely stretching, extensive domain, + Desolate all--empty, idle, and vain." + In 'Modern Language Notes': Translation of W.R. Sims. + + + THE SEAFARER + + Sooth the song that I of myself can sing, + Telling of my travels; how in troublous days, + Hours of hardship oft I've borne! + With a bitter breast-care I have been abiding; + Many seats of sorrow in my ship have known! + Frightful was the whirl of waves when it was my part + Narrow watch at night to keep on my Vessel's prow + When it rushed the rocks along. By the rigid cold + Fast my feet were pinched, fettered by the frost, + By the chains of cold. Care was sighing then + Hot my heart around; hunger rent to shreds + Courage in me, me sea-wearied! This the man knows not, + He to whom it happens, happiest on earth, + How I, carked with care, in the ice-cold sea, + Overwent the winter on my wander-ways, + All forlorn of happiness, all bereft of loving kinsmen, + Hung about with icicles; flew the hail in showers. + Nothing heard I there save the howling of the sea, + And the ice-chilled billow, 'whiles the crying of the swan. + All the glee I got me was the gannet's scream, + And the swoughing of the seal, 'stead of mirth of men; + 'Stead of the mead-drinking, moaning of the sea-mew. + There the storms smote on the crags, there the swallow of the sea + Answered to them, icy-plumed; and that answer oft the earn-- + Wet his wings were--barked aloud. + + None of all my kinsmen + Could this sorrow-laden soul stir to any joy. + Little then does he believe who life's pleasure owns, + While he tarries in the towns, and but trifling ills, + Proud and insolent with wine--how out-wearied I + Often must outstay on the ocean path! + Sombre grew the shade of night, and it snowed from northward, + Frost the field enchained, fell the hail on earth, + Coldest of all grains. + + Wherefore now then crash together + Thoughts my soul within that I should myself adventure + The high streamings of the sea, and the sport of the salt waves! + For a passion of the mind every moment pricks me on + All my life to set a faring; so that far from hence, + I may seek the shore of the strange outlanders. + Yes, so haughty of his heart is no hero on the earth, + Nor so good in all his giving, nor so generous in youth, + Nor so daring in his deed, nor so dear unto his lord, + That he has not always yearning unto his sea-faring, + To whatever work his Lord may have will to make for him. + For the harp he has no heart, nor for having of the rings, + Nor in woman is his weal, in the world he's no delight, + Nor in anything whatever save the tossing o'er the waves! + Oh, forever he has longing who is urged towards the sea. + Trees rebloom with blossoms, burghs are fair again, + Winsome are the wide plains, and the world is gay-- + All doth only challenge the impassioned heart + Of his courage to the voyage, whosoever thus bethinks him, + O'er the ocean billows, far away to go. + Every cuckoo calls a warning, with his chant of sorrow! + Sings the summer's watchman, sorrow is he boding, + Bitter in the bosom's hoard. This the brave man wots not of, + Not the warrior rich in welfare--what the wanderer endures, + Who his paths of banishment, widest places on the sea. + For behold, my thought hovers now above my heart; + O'er the surging flood of sea now my spirit flies, + O'er the homeland of the whale--hovers then afar + O'er the foldings of the earth! Now again it flies to me + Full of yearning, greedy! Yells that lonely flier; + Whets upon the Whale-way irresistibly my heart, + O'er the storming of the seas! + + Translation of Stopford Brooke. + + + THE FORTUNES OF MEN + + Full often it falls out, by fortune from God, + That a man and a maiden may marry in this world, + Find cheer in the child whom they cherish and care for, + Tenderly tend it, until the time comes, + Beyond the first years, when the young limbs increasing + Grown firm with life's fullness, are formed for their work. + Fond father and mother so guide it and feed it, + Give gifts to it, clothe it: God only can know + What lot to its latter days life has to bring. + To some that make music in life's morning hour + Pining days are appointed of plaint at the close. + One the wild wolf shall eat, hoary haunter of wastes: + His mother shall mourn the small strength of a man. + One shall sharp hunger slay; one shall the storm beat down; + One be destroyed by darts, one die in war. + One shall live losing the light of his eyes, + Feel blindly with fingers; and one, lame of foot, + With sinew-wound wearily wasteth away, + Musing and mourning, with death in his mind. + One, failing feathers, shall fall from the height + Of the tall forest tree; yet he trips as though flying, + Plays proudly in air till he reaches the point + Where the woodgrowth is weak; life then whirls in his brain, + Bereft of his reason he sinks to the root, + Falls flat on the ground, his life fleeting away. + Afoot on the far-ways, his food in his hand, + One shall go grieving, and great be his need, + Press dew on the paths of the perilous lands + Where the stranger may strike, where live none to sustain. + All shun the desolate for being sad. + One the great gallows shall have in its grasp, + Stained in dark agony, till the soul's stay, + The bone-house, is bloodily all broken up; + When the harsh raven hacks eyes from the head, + The sallow-coated, slits the soulless man. + Nor can he shield from shame, scare with his hands, + Off from their eager feast prowlers of air. + Lost is his life to him, left is no breath, + Bleached on the gallows-beam bides he his doom; + Cold death-mists close round him called the Accursed. + + * * * * * + + One shall die by the dagger, in wrath, drenched with ale, + Wild through wine, on the mead bench, too swift with his words; + Through the hand that brings beer, through the gay boon companion, + His mouth has no measure, his mood no restraint; + Too lightly his life shall the wretched one lose, + Undergo the great ill, be left empty of joy. + When they speak of him slain by the sweetness of mead, + His comrades shall call him one killed by himself. + + * * * * * + + Some have good hap, and some hard days of toil; + Some glad glow of youth, and some glory in war, + Strength in the strife; some sling the stone, some shoot. + + * * * * * + + One shall handle the harp, at the feet of his hero + Sit and win wealth from the will of his Lord; + Still quickly contriving the throb of the cords, + The nail nimbly makes music, awakes a glad noise, + While the heart of the harper throbs, hurried by zeal. + + Translation of Henry Morley. + + + FROM 'JUDITH' + +[The Assyrian officers, obeying the commands of Holofernes, come to the +carouse.] + + They then at the feast proceeded to sit, + The proud to the wine-drinking, all his comrades-in-ill, + Bold mailèd-warriors. There were lofty beakers + Oft borne along the benches, also were cups and flagons + Full to the hall-sitters borne. The fated partook of them, + Brave warriors-with-shields, though the mighty weened not of it, + Awful lord of earls. Then was Holofernes, + Gold-friend of men, full of wine-joy: + He laughed and clamored, shouted and dinned, + That children of men from afar might hear + How the strong-minded both stormed and yelled, + Moody and mead-drunken, often admonished + The sitters-on-benches to bear themselves well. + Thus did the hateful one during all day + His liege-men loyal keep plying with wine, + Stout-hearted giver of treasure, until they lay in a swoon. + +[Holofernes has been slain by Judith. The Hebrews, encouraged by her, +surprise the drunken and sleeping Assyrians.] + + Then the band of the brave was quickly prepared, + Of the bold for battle; stepped out the valiant + Men and comrades, bore their banners, + Went forth to fight straight on their way + The heroes 'neath helmets from the holy city + At the dawn itself; shields made a din, + Loudly resounded. Thereat laughed the lank + Wolf in the wood, and the raven wan, + Fowl greedy for slaughter: both of them knew + That for them the warriors thought to provide + Their fill on the fated; and flew on their track + The dewy-winged eagle eager for prey, + The dusky-coated sang his war-song, + The crooked-beaked. Stepped forth the warriors, + The heroes for battle with boards protected, + With hollow shields, who awhile before + The foreign-folk's reproach endured, + The heathens' scorn; fiercely was that + At the ash-spear's play to them all repaid, + All the Assyrians, after the Hebrews + Under their banners had boldly advanced + To the army-camps. They bravely then + Forthright let fly showers of arrows, + Of battle-adders, out from the horn-bows, + Of strongly-made shafts; stormed they aloud, + The cruel warriors, sent forth their spears + Among the brave; the heroes were angry, + The dwellers-in-land, with the loathed race; + The stern-minded stepped, the stout-in-heart, + Rudely awakened their ancient foes + Weary from mead; with hands drew forth + The men from the sheaths the brightly-marked swords + Most choice in their edges, eagerly struck + Of the host of Assyrians the battle-warriors, + The hostile-minded; not one they spared + Of the army-folk, nor low nor high + Of living men, whom they might subdue. + + By consent of Ginn & Co. Translation of Garnett. + + + + THE FIGHT AT MALDON + +[The Anglo-Saxons under Byrhtnoth are drawn up on one side of Panta +stream, the Northmen on the other. The herald of the Northmen demands +tribute. Byrhtnoth replies.] + + Then stood on the stathe, stoutly did call, + The wikings' herald, with words he spake, + Who boastfully bore from the brine-farers + An errand to th' earl, where he stood on the shore:-- + "To thee me did send the seamen snell, + Bade to thee say, thou must send to them quickly + Bracelets for safety; and 'tis better for you + That ye this spear-rush with tribute buy off + Than we in so fierce a fight engage. + We need not each spill, if ye speed to this: + We will for the pay a peace confirm. + If thou that redest, who art highest in rank, + If thou to the seamen at their own pleasure + Money for peace, and take peace from us, + We will with the treasure betake us to ship, + Fare on the flood, and peace with you confirm." + Byrhtnoth replied, his buckler uplifted, + Waved his slim spear, with words he spake, + Angry and firm gave answer to him:-- + "Hear'st thou, seafarer, what saith this folk? + They will for tribute spear-shafts you pay, + Poisonous points and trusty swords, + Those weapons that you in battle avail not. + Herald of seamen, hark back again, + Say to thy people much sadder words:-- + Here stands not unknown an earl with his band, + Who will defend this fatherland, + Æthelred's home, mine own liege lord's, + His folk and field; ye're fated to fall, + Ye heathen, in battle. Too base it me seems + That ye with our scats to ship may go + Unfought against, so far ye now hither + Into our country have come within; + Ye shall not so gently treasure obtain; + Shall spear and sword sooner beseem us, + Grim battle-play, ere tribute we give." + +[The Northmen, unable to force a passage, ask to be allowed to cross and +fight it out on an equal footing. Byrhtnoth allows this.] + + "Now room is allowed you, come quickly to us, + Warriors to war; wot God alone + Who this battle-field may be able to keep." + Waded the war-wolves, for water they recked not, + The wikings' band west over Panta, + O'er the clear water carried their shields, + Boatmen to bank their bucklers bore. + There facing their foes ready were standing + Byrhtnoth with warriors: with shields he bade + The war-hedgel work, and the war-band hold + Fast 'gainst the foes. Then fight was nigh, + Glory in battle; the time was come + That fated men should there now fall. + Then outcry was raised, the ravens circled, + Eagle eager for prey; on earth was uproar. + Then they let from their fists the file-hardened spears, + The darts well-ground, fiercely fly forth: + The bows were busy, board point received, + Bitter the battle-rush, warriors fell down, + On either hand the youths lay dead. + + By consent of Ginn & Co. Translation of Garnett. + + + + +CAEDMON'S INSPIRATION + + +He [Cædmon] had remained in the secular life until the time when he was +of advanced age, and he had never learned any song. For that reason +oftentimes, when it was decided at a feasting that all should sing in +turn to the accompaniment of the harp for the sake of entertainment, he +would arise for shame from the banquet when he saw the harp approaching +him, and would go home to his house. When he on a certain occasion had +done this, and had left the house of feasting, and had gone to the +stable of the cattle, which had been intrusted to his care for that +night; and when he there, after a reasonable time, had arranged his +limbs for rest, he fell asleep. And a man stood by him in a dream, and +hailed him, and greeted him, and called him by name, and said: "Cædmon, +sing something for me." Then he answered and said: "I cannot sing; I +went out from the feast and came hither because I could not sing." Again +said the one who was speaking with him: "Nevertheless, thou canst sing +for me." Said Cædmon, "What shall I sing?" Said he, "Sing to me of +creation." + +When Cædmon received this answer, then began he soon to sing in +glorification of God the Creator, verses and words that he had never +before heard. + + * * * * * + +Then he arose from sleep and he had fast in his memory all those things +he had sung in his sleep; and to these words he soon added many other +words of song of the same measure, worthy for God. + +Then came he in the morning to the town-reeve, who was his aldorman, and +told him of the gift he had received. And the reeve soon led him to the +abbess, and made that known to her and told her. Then bade she assemble +all the very learned men, and the learners, and bade him tell the dream +in their presence, and sing the song, so that by the judgment of them +all it might be determined what it was, and whence it had come. Then it +was seen by them all, just as it was, that the heavenly gift had been +given him by the Lord himself. + + Alfred's 'Bede': Translation of Robert Sharp. + + + + +FROM THE 'CHRONICLE' + +Selection from the entry for the year 897 + +Then Alfred, the King, ordered long ships built to oppose the war-ships +of the enemy. They were very nearly twice as long as the others; some +had sixty oars, some more. They were both swifter and steadier, and also +higher than the others; they were shaped neither on the Frisian model +nor on the Danish, but as it seemed to King Alfred that they would be +most useful. + +Then, at a certain time in that year, came six hostile ships to Wight, +and did much damage, both in Devon and elsewhere on the seaboard. Then +the King ordered that nine of the new ships should proceed thither. And +his ships blockaded the mouth of the passage on the outer-sea against +the enemy. Then the Danes came out with three ships against the King's +ships; but three of the Danish ships lay above the mouth, high and dry +aground; and the men were gone off upon the shore. Then the King's men +took two of the three ships outside, at the mouth, and slew the crews; +but one ship escaped. On this one all the men were slain except five; +these escaped because the King's ship got aground. They were aground, +moreover, very inconveniently, since three were situated upon the same +side of the channel with the three stranded Danish ships, and all the +others were upon the other side, so that there could be no communication +between the two divisions. But when the water had ebbed many furlongs +from the ships, then went the Danes from their three ships to the King's +three ships that had been left dry upon the same side by the ebbing of +the tide, and they fought together there. Then were slain Lucumon, the +King's Reeve, Wulfheard the Frisian, and Æbbe the Frisian, and Æthelhere +the Frisian, and Æthelferth the King's companion, and of all the men +Frisians and English, sixty-two; and of the Danes, one hundred +and twenty. + +But the flood came to the Danish ships before the Christians could shove +theirs out, and for that reason the Danes rowed off. They were, +nevertheless, so grievously wounded that they could not row around the +land of the South Saxons, and the sea cast up there two of the ships +upon the shore. And the men from them were led to Winchester to the +King, and he commanded them to be hanged there. But the men who were in +the remaining ship came to East Anglia, sorely wounded. + + Translation of Robert Sharp. + + + + +GABRIELE D'ANNUNZIO + +(1864-) + + +An Italian poet and novelist of early promise, who has become a somewhat +unique figure in contemporary literature, Gabriele d'Annunzio is a +native of the Abruzzi, born in the little village of Pescara, on the +Adriatic coast. Its picturesque scenery has formed the background for +more than one of his stories. At the age of fifteen, while still a +student at Prato, he published his first volume of poems, 'Intermezzo di +Rime' (Interludes of Verse): "grand, plastic verse, of an impeccable +prosody," as he maintained in their defense, but so daringly erotic that +their appearance created no small scandal. Other poems followed at +intervals, notably 'Il Canto Nuovo' (The New Song: Rome, 1882), 'Isotteo +e la Chimera' (Isotteo and the Chimera: Rome, 1890), 'Poema Paradisiaco' +and 'Odi Navali' (Marine Odes: Milan, 1893), which leave no doubt of his +high rank as poet. The novel, however, is his chosen vehicle of +expression, and the one which gives fullest scope to his rich and +versatile genius. His first long story, 'Il Piacere' (Pleasure), +appeared in 1889. As the title implies, it was pervaded with a frank, +almost complacent sensuality, which its author has since been inclined +to deprecate. Nevertheless, the book received merited praise for its +subtle portrayal of character and incident, and its exuberance of +phraseology; and more than all, for the promise which it suggested. With +the publication of 'L'Innocente,' the author for the first time showed a +real seriousness of purpose. His views of life had meanwhile essentially +altered:--"As was just," he confessed, "I began to pay for my errors, my +disorders, my excesses: I began to suffer with the same intensity with +which I had formerly enjoyed myself; sorrow had made of me a new man." +Accordingly his later books, while still emphatically realistic, are +chastened by an underlying tone of pessimism. Passion is no longer the +keynote of life, but rather, as exemplified in 'Il Trionfo della Morte,' +the prelude of death. Leaving Rome, where, "like the outpouring of the +sewers, a flood of base desires invaded every square and cross-road, +ever more putrid and more swollen," D'Annunzio retired to +Francovilla-al-Mare, a few miles from his birthplace. There he lives in +seclusion, esteemed by the simple-minded, honest, and somewhat fanatical +peasantry, to whose quaint and primitive manners his books owe much of +their distinctive atmosphere. + +In Italy, D'Annunzio's career has been watched with growing interest. +Until recently, however, he was scarcely known to the world at large, +when a few poems, translated into French, brought his name into +immediate prominence. Within a year three Paris journals acquired rights +of translation from him, and he has since occupied the attention of such +authoritative French critics as Henri Rabusson, René Doumic, Edouard +Rod, Eugène-Melchior de Vogüé, and, most recently, Ferdinand Brunetière, +all of whom seem to have a clearer appreciation of his quality than even +his critics at home. At the same time there is a small but hostile +minority among the French novelists, whose literary feelings are voiced +by Léon Daudet in a vehement protest under the title 'Assez d'Étrangers' +(Enough of Foreigners). + +It is too soon to pass final judgment on D'Annunzio's style, which has +been undergoing an obvious transition, not yet accomplished. Realist and +psychologist, symbolist and mystic by turns, and first and always a +poet, he has been compared successively to Bourget and Maupassant, +Tolstoi and Dostoïevsky, Théophile Gautier and Catulle Mendès, Dante +Gabriel Rossetti and Baudelaire. Such complexity of style is the outcome +of his cosmopolitan taste in literature, and his tendency to assimilate +for future use whatever pleases him in each successive author. +Shakespeare and Goethe, Keats and Heine, Plato and Zoroaster, figure +among the names which throng his pages; while his unacknowledged and +often unconscious indebtedness to writers of lesser magnitude,--notably +the self-styled 'Sar' Joseph Peladan--has lately raised an outcry of +plagiarism. Yet whatever leaves his pen, borrowed or original, has +received the unmistakable imprint of his powerful individuality. + +It is easy to trace the influences under which, successively, D'Annunzio +has come. They are essentially French. He is a French writer in an +Italian medium. His early short sketches, noteworthy chiefly for their +morbid intensity, were modeled largely on Maupassant, whose frank, +unblushing realism left a permanent imprint upon the style of his +admirer, and whose later analytic tendency probably had an important +share in turning his attention to the psychological school. + +'Il Piacere,' though largely inspired by Paul Bourget, contains as large +an element of 'Notre Coeur' and 'Bel-Ami' as of 'Le Disciple' and 'Coeur +de Femme.' In this novel, Andrea Sperelli affords us the type of +D'Annunzio's heroes, who, aside from differences due to age and +environment, are all essentially the same,--somewhat weak, yet +undeniably attractive; containing, all of them, "something of a Don Juan +and a Cherubini," with the Don Juan element preponderating. The plot of +'Il Piacere' is not remarkable either for depth or for novelty, being +the needlessly detailed record of Sperelli's relations with two married +women, of totally opposite types. + +'Giovanni Episcopo' is a brief, painful tragedy of low life, written +under the influence of Russian evangelism, and full of reminiscences of +Dostoïevsky's 'Crime and Punishment.' Giovanni is a poor clerk, of a +weak, pusillanimous nature, completely dominated by a coarse, brutal +companion, Giulio Wanzer, who makes him an abject slave, until a +detected forgery compels Wanzer to flee the country. Episcopo then +marries Ginevra, the pretty but unprincipled waitress at his _pension_, +who speedily drags him down to the lowest depths of degradation, making +him a mere nonentity in his own household, willing to live on the +proceeds of her infamy. They have one child, a boy, Ciro, on whom +Giovanni lavishes all his suppressed tenderness. After ten years of this +martyrdom, the hated Wanzer reappears and installs himself as husband in +the Episcopo household. Giovanni submits in helpless fury, till one day +Wanzer beats Ginevra, and little Ciro intervenes to protect his mother. +Wanzer turns on the child, and a spark of manhood is at last kindled in +Giovanni's breast. He springs upon Wanzer, and with the pent-up rage of +years stabs him. + +'L'Innocente,' D'Annunzio's second long novel, also bears the stamp of +Russian influence. It is a gruesome, repulsive story of domestic +infidelity, in which he has handled the theory of pardon, the motive of +numerous recent French novels, like Daudet's 'La Petite Paroisse' and +Paul Marguerite's 'La Tourmente.' + +In another extended work, 'Il Trionfo della Morte' (The Triumph of +Death), D'Annunzio appears as a convert to Nietzsche's philosophy and to +Wagnerianism. Ferdinand Brunetière has pronounced it unsurpassed by the +naturalistic schools of England, France, or Russia. In brief, the hero, +Giorgio Aurispa, a morbid sensualist, with an inherited tendency to +suicide, is led by fate through a series of circumstances which keep the +thought of death continually before him. They finally goad him on to +fling himself from a cliff into the sea, dragging with him the woman +he loves. + +The 'Vergini della Rocca' (Maidens of the Crag), his last story, is more +an idyllic poem than a novel. Claudio Cantelmo, sickened with the +corruption of Rome, retires to his old home in the Abruzzi, where he +meets the three sisters Massimilla, Anatolia, Violante: "names +expressive as faces full of light and shade, and in which I seemed +already to discover an infinity of grace, of passion, and of sorrow." It +is inevitable that he should chose one of the three, but which? And in +the dénouement the solution is only half implied. + +D'Annunzio is now occupied with a new romance; and coming years will +doubtless present him all the more distinctively as a writer of Italy on +whom French inflences have been seed sowed in fertile ground. The place +in contemporary Italian of such work as his is indisputably +considerable. + + +THE DROWNED BOY + +From 'The Triumph of Death' + +All of a sudden, Albadora, the septuagenarian Cybele, she who had given +life to twenty-two sons and daughters, came toiling up the narrow lane +into the court, and indicating the neighboring shore, where it skirted +the promontory on the left, announced breathlessly:-- + +"Down yonder there has been a child drowned!" + +Candia made the sign of the cross. Giorgio arose and ascended to the +loggia, to observe the spot designated. Upon the sand, below the +promontory, in close vicinity to the chain of rocks and the tunnel, he +perceived a blotch of white, presumably the sheet which hid the little +body. A group of people had gathered around it. + +As Ippolita had gone to mass with Elena at the chapel of the Port, he +yielded to his curiosity and said to his entertainers:-- + +"I am going down to see." + +"Why?" asked Candia. "Why do you wish to put a pain in your heart?" + +Hastening down the narrow lane, he descended by a short cut to the +beach, and continued along the water. Reaching the spot, somewhat out of +breath, he inquired:-- + +"What has happened?" + +The assembled peasants saluted him and made way for him. One of them +answered tranquilly:-- + +"The son of a mother has been drowned." + +Another, clad in linen, who seemed to be standing guard over the corpse, +bent down and drew aside the sheet. + +The inert little body was revealed, extended upon the unyielding sand. +It was a lad, eight or nine years old, fair and frail, with slender +limbs. His head was supported on his few humble garments, rolled up in +place of pillow,--the shirt, the blue trousers, the red sash, the cap of +limp felt. His face was but slightly livid, with flat nose, prominent +forehead, and long, long lashes; the mouth was half open, with thick +lips which were turning blue, between which the widely spaced teeth +gleamed white. His neck was slender, flaccid as a wilted stem, and +seamed with tiny creases. The jointure of the arms at the shoulder +looked feeble. The arms themselves were fragile, and covered with a down +similar to the fine plumage which clothes the bodies of newly hatched +birds. The whole outline of the ribs was distinctly visible; down the +middle of the breast the skin was divided by a darker line; the navel +stood out, like a knot. The feet, slightly bloated, had assumed the same +sallow color as the little hands, which were callous and strewn with +warts, with white nails beginning to turn livid. On the left arm, on the +thighs near the groin, and further down, on the knees and along the +legs, appeared reddish blotches of scurf. Every detail of this wretched +little body assumed, in the eyes of Giorgio, an extraordinary +significance, immobile as it was and fixed forever in the rigidity +of death. + +"How was he drowned? Where?" he questioned, lowering his voice. + +The man dressed in linen gave, with some show of impatience, the account +which he had probably had to repeat too many times already. He had a +brutal countenance, square-cut, with bushy brows, and a large mouth, +harsh and savage. Only a little while after leading the sheep back to +their stalls, the lad, taking his breakfast along with him, had gone +down, together with a comrade, to bathe. He had hardly set foot in the +water, when he had fallen and was drowned. At the cries of his comrade, +some one from the house overhead on the bluff had hurried down, and +wading in up to the knees, had dragged him from the water half dead; +they had turned him upside down to make him throw up the water, they had +shaken him, but to no purpose. To indicate just how far the poor little +fellow had gone in, the man picked up a pebble and threw it into +the sea. + +"There, only to there; at three yards from the shore!" + +The sea lay at rest, breathing peacefully, close to the head of the dead +child. But the sun blazed fiercely down upon the sand; and something +pitiless, emanating from that sky of flame and from those stolid +witnesses, seemed to pass over the pallid corpse. + +"Why," asked Giorgio, "do you not place him in the shade, in one of the +houses, on a bed?" + +"He is not to be moved," declared the man on guard, "until they hold the +inquest." + +"At least carry him into the shade, down there, below the embankment!" + +Stubbornly the man reiterated, "He is not to be moved." + +There could be no sadder sight than that frail, lifeless little being, +extended on the stones, and watched over by the impassive brute who +repeated his account every time in the selfsame words, and every time +made the selfsame gesture, throwing a pebble into the sea:-- + +"There; only to there." + +A woman joined the group, a hook-nosed termagant, with gray eyes and +sour lips, mother of the dead boy's comrade. She manifested plainly a +mistrustful restlessness, as if she anticipated some accusation against +her own son. She spoke with bitterness, and seemed almost to bear a +grudge against the victim. + +"It was his destiny. God had said to him, 'Go into the sea and end +yourself.'" + +She gesticulated with vehemence. "What did he go in for, if he did not +know how to swim--?" + +A young lad, a stranger in the district, the son of a mariner, repeated +contemptuously, "Yes, what did he go in for? We, yes, who know how to +swim--" ... + +Other people joined the group, gazed with cold curiosity, then lingered +or passed on. A crowd occupied the railroad embankment, another gathered +on the crest of the promontory, as if at a spectacle. Children, seated +or kneeling, played with pebbles, tossing them into the air and catching +them, now on the back and now in the hollow of their hands. They all +showed the same profound indifference to the presence of other people's +troubles and of death. + +Another woman joined the group on her way home from mass, wearing a +dress of silk and all her gold ornaments. For her also the harassed +custodian repeated his account, for her also he indicated the spot in +the water. She was talkative. + +"I am always saying to _my_ children, 'Don't you go into the water, or I +will kill you!' The sea is the sea. Who can save himself?" + +She called to mind other instances of drowning; she called to mind the +case of the drowned man with the head cut off, driven by the waves all +the way to San Vito, and found among the rocks by a child. + +"Here, among these rocks. He came and told us, 'There is a dead man +there.' We thought he was joking. But we came and we found. He had no +head. They had an inquest; he was buried in a ditch; then in the night +he was dug up again. His flesh was all mangled and like jelly, but he +still had his boots on. The judge said, 'See, they are better than +mine!' So he must have been a rich man. And it turned out that he was a +dealer in cattle. They had killed him and chopped off his head, and had +thrown him into the Tronto."... + +She continued to talk in her shrill voice, from time to time sucking in +the superfluous saliva with a slight hissing sound. + +"And the mother? When is the mother coming?" + +At that name there arose exclamations of compassion from all the women +who had gathered. + +"The mother! There comes the mother, now!" + +And all of them turned around, fancying that they saw her in the far +distance, along the burning strand. Some of the women could give +particulars about her. Her name was Riccangela; she was a widow with +seven children. She had placed this one in a farmer's family, so that he +might tend the sheep, and gain a morsel of bread. + +One woman said, gazing down at the corpse, "Who knows how much pains the +mother has taken in raising him!" Another said, "To keep the children +from going hungry she has even had to ask charity." + +Another told how, only a few months before, the unfortunate child had +come very near strangling to death in a courtyard in a pool of water +barely six inches deep. All the women repeated, "It was his destiny. He +was bound to die that way." + +And the suspense of waiting rendered them restless, anxious. "The +mother! There comes the mother now!" + +Feeling himself grow sick at heart, Giorgio exclaimed, "Can't you take +him into the shade, or into a house, so that the mother will not see him +here naked on the stones, under a sun like this?" + +Stubbornly the man on guard objected:--"He is not to be touched. He is +not to be moved--until the inquest is held." + +The bystanders gazed in surprise at the stranger,--Candia's stranger. +Their number was augmenting. A few occupied the embankment shaded with +acacias; others crowned the promontory rising abruptly from the rocks. +Here and there, on the monstrous bowlders, a tiny boat lay sparkling +like gold at the foot of the detached crag, so lofty that it gave the +effect of the ruins of some Cyclopean tower, confronting the immensity +of the sea. + +All at once, from above on the height, a voice announced, "There she +is." + +Other voices followed:--"The mother! The mother!" + +All turned. Some stepped down from the embankment. Those on the +promontory leaned far over. All became silent, in expectation. The man +on guard drew the sheet once more over the corpse. In the midst of the +silence, the sea barely seemed to draw its breath, the acacias barely +rustled. And then through the silence they could hear her cries as she +drew near. + +The mother came along the strand, beneath the sun, crying aloud. She was +clad in widow's mourning. She tottered along the sand, with bowed body, +calling out, "O my son! My son!" + +She raised her palms to heaven, and then struck them upon her knees, +calling out, "My son!" + +One of her older sons, with a red handkerchief bound around his neck, to +hide some sore, followed her like one demented, dashing aside his tears +with the back of his hand. She advanced along the strand, beating her +knees, directing her steps toward the sheet. And as she called upon her +dead, there issued from her mouth sounds scarcely human, but rather like +the howling of some savage dog. As she drew near, she bent over lower +and lower, she placed herself almost on all fours; till, reaching him, +she threw herself with a howl upon the sheet. + +She arose again. With hand rough and toil-stained, hand toughened by +every variety of labor, she uncovered the body. She gazed upon it a few +instants, motionless as though turned to stone. Then time and time +again, shrilly, with all the power of her voice, she called as if trying +to awaken him, "My son! My son! My son!" + +Sobs suffocated her. Kneeling beside him, she beat her sides furiously +with her fists. She turned her despairing eyes around upon the circle of +strangers. During a pause in her paroxysms she seemed to recollect +herself. And then she began to sing. She sang her sorrow in a rhythm +which rose and fell continually, like the palpitation of a heart. It was +the ancient monody which from time immemorial, in the land of the +Abruzzi, the women have sung over the remains of their relatives. It was +the melodious eloquence of sacred sorrow, which renewed spontaneously, +in the profundity of her being, this hereditary rhythm in which the +mothers of bygone ages had modulated their lamentations. + +She sang on and on:--"Open your eyes, arise and walk, my son! How +beautiful you are! How beautiful you are!" + +She sang on:--"For a morsel of bread I have drowned you, my son! For a +morsel of bread I have borne you to the slaughter! For that have I +raised you!" + +But the irate woman with the hooked nose interrupted her:--"It was not +you who drowned him; it was Destiny. It was not you who took him to the +slaughter. You had placed him in the midst of bread." And making a +gesture toward the hill where the house stood which had sheltered the +lad, she added, "They kept him there, like a pink at the ear." + +The mother continued:--"O my son, who was it sent you; who was it sent +you here, to drown?" + +And the irate woman:--"Who was it sent him? It was our Lord. He said to +him, 'Go into the water and end yourself.'" + +As Giorgio was affirming in a low tone to one of the bystanders that if +succored in time the child might have been saved, and that they had +killed him by turning him upside down and holding him suspended by the +feet, he felt the gaze of the mother fixed upon him. "Can't you do +something for him, sir?" she prayed. "Can't you do something for him?" + +And she prayed:--"O Madonna of the Miracles, work a miracle for him!" + +Touching the head of the dead boy, she repeated:--"My son! my son! my +son! arise and walk!" + +On his knees in front of her was the brother of the dead boy; he was +sobbing, but without grief, and from time to time he glanced around with +a face that suddenly grew indifferent. Another brother, the oldest one, +remained at a little distance, seated in the shade of a bowlder; and he +was making a great show of grief, hiding his face in his hands. The +women, striving to console the mother, were bending over her with +gestures of compassion, and accompanying her monody with an +occasional lament. + +And she sang on:--"Why have I sent you forth from my house? Why have I +sent you to your death? I have done everything to keep my children from +hunger; everything, everything, except to be a woman with a price. And +for a morsel of bread I have lost you! This was the way you were +to die!" + +Thereupon the woman with the hawk nose raised her petticoats in an +impetus of wrath, entered the water up to her knees, and cried:--"Look! +He came only to here. Look! The water is like oil. It is a sign that he +was bound to die that way." + +With two strides she regained the shore. "Look!" she repeated, pointing +to the deep imprint in the sand made by the man who recovered the +body. "Look!" + +The mother looked in a dull way; but it seemed as if she neither saw nor +comprehended. After her first wild outbursts of grief, there came over +her brief pauses, amounting to an obscurement of consciousness. She +would remain silent, she would touch her foot or her leg with a +mechanical gesture. Then she would wipe away her tears with the black +apron. She seemed to be quieting down. Then, all of a sudden, a fresh +explosion would shake her from head to foot, and prostrate her upon +the corpse. + +"And I cannot take you away! I cannot take you in these arms to the +church! My son! My son!" + +She fondled him from head to foot, she caressed him softly. Her savage +anguish was softened to an infinite tenderness. Her hand--the burnt and +callous hand of a hard-working woman--became infinitely gentle as she +touched the eyes, the mouth, the forehead of her son. + +"How beautiful you are! How beautiful you are!" + +She touched his lower lip, already turned blue; and as she pressed it +slightly, a whitish froth issued from the mouth. From between his lashes +she brushed away some speck, very carefully, as though fearful of +hurting him. + +"How beautiful you are, heart of your mamma!" + +His lashes were long, very long, and fair. On his temples, on his cheeks +was a light bloom, pale as gold. + +"Do you not hear me? Rise and walk." + +She took the little well-worn cap, limp as a rag. She gazed at it and +kissed it, saying:-- + +"I am going to make myself a charm out of this, and wear it always on my +breast." + +She lifted the child; a quantity of water escaped from the mouth and +trickled down upon the breast. + +"O Madonna of the Miracles, perform a miracle!" she prayed, raising her +eyes to heaven in a supreme supplication. Then she laid softly down +again the little being who had been so dear to her, and took up the worn +shirt, the red sash, the cap. She rolled them up together in a little +bundle, and said:-- + +"This shall be my pillow; on these I shall rest my head, always, at +night; on these I wish to die." + +She placed these humble relics on the sand, beside the head of her +child, and rested her temple on them, stretching herself out, as if on +a bed. + +Both of them, mother and son, now lay side by side, on the hard rocks, +beneath the flaming sky, close to the homicidal sea. And now she began +to croon the very lullaby which in the past had diffused pure sleep over +his infant cradle. + +She took up the red sash and said, "I want to dress him." + +The cross-grained woman, who still held her ground, assented. "Let us +dress him now." + +And she herself took the garments from under the head of the dead boy; +she felt in the jacket pocket and found a slice of bread and a fig. + +"Do you see? They had given him his food just before,--just before. They +cared for him like a pink at the ear." + +The mother gazed upon the little shirt, all soiled and torn, over which +her tears fell rapidly, and said, "Must I put that shirt on him?" + +The other woman promptly raised her voice to some one of her family, +above on the bluff:--"Quick, bring one of Nufrillo's new shirts!" The +new shirt was brought. The mother flung herself down beside him. + +"Get up, Riccangela, get up!" solicited the women around her. + +She did not heed them. "Is my son to stay like that on the stones, and I +not stay there too?--like that, on the stones, my own son?" + +"Get up, Riccangela, come away." + +She arose. She gazed once more with terrible intensity upon the little +livid face of the dead. Once again she called with all the power of her +voice, "My son! My son! My son!" + +Then with her own hands she covered up with the sheet the unheeding +remains. + +And the women gathered around her, drew her a little to one side, under +shadow of a bowlder; they forced her to sit down, they lamented +with her. + +Little by little the spectators melted away. There remained only a few +of the women comforters; there remained the man clad in linen, the +impassive custodian, who was awaiting the inquest. + +The dog-day sun poured down upon the strand, and lent to the funeral +sheet a dazzling whiteness. Amidst the heat the promontory raised its +desolate aridity straight upward from the tortuous chain of rocks. The +sea, immense and green, pursued its constant, even breathing. And it +seemed as if the languid hour was destined never to come to an end. + +Under shadow of the bowlder, opposite the white sheet, which was raised +up by the rigid form of the corpse beneath, the mother continued her +monody in the rhythm rendered sacred by all the sorrows, past and +present, of her race. And it seemed as if her lamentation was destined +never to come to an end. + + + TO AN IMPROMPTU OF CHOPIN + + When thou upon my breast art sleeping, + I hear across the midnight gray-- + I hear the muffled note of weeping, + So near--so sad--so far away! + + All night I hear the teardrops falling-- + Each drop by drop--my heart must weep; + I hear the falling blood-drops--lonely, + Whilst thou dost sleep--whilst thou dost sleep. + + From 'The Triumph of Death.' + + + INDIA + + India--whose enameled page unrolled + Like autumn's gilded pageant, 'neath a sun + That withers not for ancient kings undone + Or gods decaying in their shrines of gold-- + + Where were thy vaunted princes, that of old + Trod thee with thunder--of thy saints was none + To rouse thee when the onslaught was begun, + That shook the tinseled sceptre from thy hold? + + Dead--though behind thy gloomy citadels + The fountains lave their baths of porphyry; + Dead--though the rose-trees of thy myriad dells + Breathe as of old their speechless ecstasy; + Dead--though within thy temples, courts, and cells, + Their countless lamps still supplicate for thee. + +Translated by Thomas Walsh, for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.' + + + + +ANTAR + +(About 550-615) + +BY EDWARD S. HOLDEN + + +Arabia was opened to English readers first by Sale's translation of the +'Kuran,' in 1734; and by English versions of the 'Arabian Nights' from +1712 onward. The latter were derived from Galland's translation of the +'Thousand and One Nights,' which began to appear, in French, in 1704. +Next to nothing was generally known of Oriental literature from that +time until the end of the eighteenth century. The East India Company +fostered the study of the classics of the extreme Orient; and the first +Napoleon opened Egypt,--his _savans_ marched in the centre of the +invading squares. + +The flagship of the English fleet which blockaded Napoleon's army +carried an Austro-German diplomatist and scholar,--Baron von +Hammer-Purgstall,--part of whose mission was to procure a complete +manuscript of the 'Arabian Nights.' It was then supposed that these +tales were the daily food of all Turks, Arabians, and Syrians. To the +intense surprise of Von Hammer, he learned that they were never recited +in the coffee-houses of Constantinople, and that they were not to be +found at all outside of Egypt. + +His dismay and disappointment were soon richly compensated, however, by +the discovery of the Arabian romance of 'Antar,' the national classic, +hitherto unknown in Europe, except for an enthusiastic notice which had +fallen by chance into the hands of Sir William Jones. The entire work +was soon collected. It is of interminable length in the original, being +often found in thirty or forty manuscript volumes in quarto, in seventy +or eighty in octavo. Portions of it have been translated into English, +German, and French. English readers can consult it best in 'Antar,' a +Bedouin romance, translated from the Arabic by Terrick Hamilton, in four +volumes 8vo (London, 1820). Hamilton's translation, now rare, covers +only a portion of the original; and a new translation, suitably +abridged, is much needed. + +The book purports to have been written more than a thousand years +ago,--in the golden prime of the Caliph Harún-al-Rashid (786-809) and of +his sons and successors, Amin (809-813) and Mamun (813-834),--by the +famous As-Asmai (born 741, died about 830). It is in fact a later +compilation, probably of the twelth century. (Baron von Hammer's MS. +was engrossed in the year 1466.) Whatever the exact date may have been, +it was probably not much later than A.D. 1200. The main outlines of +Antar's life are historical. Many particulars are derived from historic +accounts of the lives of other Arabian heroes (Duraid and others) and +are transferred bodily to the biography of Antar. They date back to the +sixth century. Most of the details must be imaginary, but they are +skillfully contrived by a writer who knew the life of the desert Arab at +first hand. The verses with which the volumes abound are in many cases +undoubtedly Antar's. (They are printed in italics in what follows.) In +any event, the book in its present form has been the delight of all +Arabians for many centuries. Every wild Bedouin of the desert knew much +of the tale by heart, and listened to its periods and to its poems with +quivering interest. His more cultivated brothers of the cities possessed +one or many of its volumes. Every coffee-house in Aleppo, Bagdad, or +Constantinople had a narrator who, night after night, recited it to rapt +audiences. + +The unanimous opinion of the East has always placed the romance of +'Antar' at the summit of such literature. As one of their authors well +says:--"'The Thousand and One Nights' is for the amusement of women and +children; 'Antar' is a book for men. From it they learn lessons of +eloquence, of magnanimity, of generosity, and of statecraft." Even the +prophet Muhammad, well-known foe to poetry and to poets, instructed his +disciples to relate to their children the traditions concerning Antar, +"for these will steel their hearts harder than stone." + +The book belongs among the great national classics, like the +'Shah-nameh' and the 'Nibelungen-Lied.' It has a direct relation to +Western culture and opinion also. Antar was the father of knighthood. He +was the _preux-chevalier_, the champion of the weak and oppressed, the +protector of women, the impassioned lover-poet, the irresistible and +magnanimous knight. European chivalry in a marked degree is the child of +the chivalry of his time, which traveled along the shores of the +Mediterranean Sea and passed with the Moors into Spain (710). Another +current flowed from Arabia to meet and to modify the Greeks of +Constantinople and the early Crusaders; and still another passed from +Persia into Palestine and Europe. These fertilized Provençal poetry, the +French romance, the early Italian epic. The 'Shah-nameh' of Firdausi, +that model of a heroic poem, was written early in the eleventh century. +'Antar' in its present form probably preceded the romances of chivalry +so common in the twelfth century in Italy and France. + +Antarah ben Shedad el Absi (Antar the Lion, the Son of Shedad of the +tribe of Abs), the historic Antar, was born about the middle of the +sixth century of our era, and died about the year 615, forty-five years +after the birth of the prophet Muhammad, and seven years before the +Hijra--the Flight to Medina--with which the Muhammadan era begins. His +father was a noble Absian knight. The romance makes him the son of an +Abyssinian slave, who is finally discovered to be a powerful princess. +His skin was black. He was despised by his father and family and set to +tend their camels. His extraordinary strength and valor and his +remarkable poetic faculty soon made him a marked man, in a community in +which personal valor failed of its full value if it were not celebrated +in brilliant verse. His love for the beautiful Ibla (Ablah in the usual +modern form), the daughter of his uncle, was proved in hundreds of +encounters and battles; by many adventurous excursions in search of fame +and booty; by thousands of verses in her honor. + +The historic Antar is the author of one of the seven "suspended poems." +The common explanation of this term is that these seven poems were +judged, by the assemblage of all the Arabs, worthy to be written in +golden letters (whence their name of the 'golden odes'), and to be hung +on high in the sacred Kaabah at Mecca. Whether this be true, is not +certain. They are at any rate accepted models of Arabic style. Antar was +one of the seven greatest poets of his poetic race. These "suspended +poems" can now be studied in the original and in translation, by the +help of a little book published in London in 1894, 'The Seven Poems,' by +Captain F.E. Johnson, R.A. + +The Antar of the romance is constantly breaking into verse which is +passionately admired by his followers. None of its beauties of form are +preserved in the translation; and indeed, this is true of the prose +forms also. It speaks volumes for the manly vigor of the original that +it can be transferred to an alien tongue and yet preserve great +qualities. To the Arab the work is a masterpiece both in form and +content. Its prose is in balanced, rhythmic sentences ending in full or +partial rhymes. This "cadence of the cooing dove" is pure music to an +Eastern ear. If any reader is interested in Arabic verse, he can readily +satisfy his curiosity. An introduction to the subject is given in the +Terminal Essay of Sir Richard Burton's 'Arabian Nights' (Lady Burton's +edition, Vol. vi., page 340). The same subject is treated briefly and +very clearly in the introduction to Lyall's 'Ancient Arabian Poetry'--a +book well worth consulting on other accounts. + +The story itself appeals to the Oriental's deepest feelings, passions, +ideals:-- + + "To realize the impetuous feelings of the Arab," says Von + Hammer, "you must have heard these tales narrated to a circle + of Bedouins crowded about the orator of the desert.... It is + a veritable drama, in which the spectators are the actors as + well. If the hero is threatened with imminent danger, they + shudder and cry aloud, 'No, no, no; Allah forbid! that cannot + be!' If he is in the midst of tumult and battle, mowing down + rank after rank of the enemy with his sword, they seize their + own weapons and rise to fly to his rescue. If he falls into + the snares of treachery, their foreheads contract with angry + indignation and they exclaim, 'The curse of Allah be on the + traitor!' If the hero at last sinks under the superior forces + of the enemy, a long and ardent sigh escapes from their + breasts, with the farewell blessing, 'Allah's compassion be + with him--may he rest in peace.'... Descriptions of the + beauties of nature, especially of the spring, are received + with exclamations. Nothing equals the delight which sparkles + in every eye when the narrator draws a picture of + feminine beauty." + +The question as to the exact relation of the chivalry of Europe to the +earlier chivalry of Arabia and of the East is a large one, and one which +must be left to scholars. It is certain that Spenser and Sir Philip +Sidney owe far more to Saladin than we commonly suppose. The tales of +Boccaccio (1350) show that the Italians of that day still held the Arabs +to be their teachers in chivalry, and at least their equals in art, +science, and civilization; and the Italy of 1300 was a century in +advance of the rest of Europe. In 1268 two brothers of the King of +Castile, with 800 other Spanish gentlemen, were serving under the +banners of the Muslim in Tunis. The knightly ideal of both Moors and +Spaniards was to be + + "Like steel among swords, + Like wax among ladies." + +Hospitality, generosity, magnanimity, the protection of the weak, +punctilious observance of the plighted faith, pride of birth and +lineage, glory in personal valor--these were the knightly virtues common +to Arab and Christian warriors. Antar and his knights, Ibla and her +maidens, are the Oriental counterparts of Launcelot and Arthur, of +Guinevere and Iseult. + +The primary duty of the early Arab was blood-revenge. An insult to +himself, or an injury to the tribe, must be wiped out with the blood of +the offender. Hence arose the multitude of tribal feuds. It was Muhammad +who first checked the private feud by fixing "the price of blood" to be +paid by the aggressor or by his tribe. In the time of Antar revenge was +the foremost duty. Ideals of excellence change as circumstances alter. +Virtues go out of fashion (like the magnificence of Aristotle), or +acquire an entirely new importance (as veracity, since England became a +trading nation). Some day we may possess a natural history of +the virtues. + +The service of the loved one by the early Arab was a passion completely +different from the vain gallantry of the mediæval knight of Europe. He +sought for the complete possession of his chosen mistress, and was eager +to earn it by multitudes of chivalric deeds; but he could not have +understood the sentimentalities of the Troubadours. The systematic +fantasies of the "Courts of Love" would have seemed cold follies to Arab +chivalry--as indeed they are, though they have led to something better. +In generosity, in magnanimity, the Arab knight far surpassed his +European brother. Hospitality was a point of honor to both. As to the +noble Arabs of those days, when any one demanded their protection, no +one ever inquired what was the matter; for if he asked any questions, it +would be said of him that he was afraid. The poets have thus described +them in verse:-- + + "They rise when any one calls out to them, and + they haste before asking any questions; + they aid him against his enemies + that seek his life, and they return + honored to their families." + +The Arab was the knight of the tent and the desert. His deeds were +immediately known to his fellows; discussed and weighed in every +household of his tribe. The Christian knight of the Middle Ages, living +isolated in his stronghold, was less immediately affected by the +opinions of his class. Tribal allegiance was developed in the first +case, independence in the second. + +Scholars tell us that the romance of 'Antar' is priceless for faithful +pictures of the times before the advent of Muhammad, which are confirmed +by all that remains of the poetry of "the days of ignorance." To the +general reader its charm lies in its bold and simple stories of +adventure; in its childlike enjoyment of the beauty of Nature; in its +pictures of the elemental passions of ambition, pride, love, hate, +revenge. Antar was a poet, a lover, a warrior, a born leader. From a +keeper of camels he rose to be the protector of the tribe of Abs and the +pattern of chivalry, by virtue of great natural powers and in the face +of every obstacle. He won possession of his Ibla and gave her the dower +of a queen, by adventures the like of which were never known before. +There were no Ifrits or Genii to come to his aid, as in the 'Thousand +Nights and a Night.' 'Antar' is the epic of success crowning human +valor; the tales in the 'Arabian Nights,' at their best, are the fond +fancies of the fatalist whose best endeavor is at the mercy of every +capricious Jinni. + +The 'Arabian Nights' contains one tale of the early Arabs,--the story of +Gharib and his brother Ajib,--which repeats some of the exploits of +Antar; a tale far inferior to the romance. The excellences of the +'Arabian Nights' are of another order. We must look for them in the +pompous enchantments of the City of Brass, or in the tender constancy of +Aziz and Azizah, or in the tale of Hasan of Bassorah, with its lovely +study of the friendship of a foster-sister, and its wonderful +presentment of the magic surroundings of the country of the Jann. + +To select specimens from 'Antar' is like selecting from 'Robinson +Crusoe.' In the romance, Antar's adventures go on and on, and the +character of the hero develops before one's eyes. It may be that the +leisure of the desert is needed fully to appreciate this master-work. + +[Illustration: Signature: EDWARD S. HOLDEN] + + + + +THE VALOR OF ANTAR + + +Now Antar was becoming a big boy, and grew up, and used to accompany his +mother, Zebeeba, to the pastures, and he watched the cattle; and this he +continued to do till he increased in stature. He used to walk and run +about to harden himself, till at length his muscles were strengthened, +his frame altogether more robust, his bones more firm and solid, and his +speech correct. His days were passed in roaming about the mountain +sides; and thus he continued till he attained his tenth year. + + [He now kills a wolf which had attacked his father's flocks, + and breaks into verse to celebrate his victory:--] + +_O thou wolf, eager for death, I have left thee wallowing in dust, and +spoiled of life; thou wouldst have the run of my flocks, but I have left +thee dyed with blood; thou wouldst disperse my sheep, and thou knowest I +am a lion that never fears. This is the way I treat thee, thou dog of +the desert. Hast thou ever before seen battle and wars?_ + + [His next adventure brought him to the notice of the chief of + the tribe,--King Zoheir. A slave of Prince Shas insulted a + poor, feeble woman who was tending her sheep; on which Antar + "dashed him against the ground. And his length and breadth + were all one mass." This deed won for Antar the hatred of + Prince Shas, the friendship of the gentle Prince Malik, and + the praise of the king, their father. "This valiant fellow," + said the king, "has defended the honor of women."] + +From that day both King Zoheir and his son Malik conceived a great +affection for Antar, and as Antar returned home, the women all collected +around him to ask him what had happened; among them were his aunts and +his cousin, whose name was Ibla. Now Ibla was younger than Antar, and a +merry lass. She was lovely as the moon at its full; and perfectly +beautiful and elegant.... One day he entered the house of his uncle +Malik and found his aunt combing his cousin Ibla's hair, which flowed +down her back, dark as the shades of night. Antar was quite surprised; +he was greatly agitated, and could pay no attention to anything; he was +anxious and thoughtful, and his anguish daily became more oppressive. + + [Meeting her at a feast, he addressed her in verse:--] + +_The lovely virgin has struck my heart with the arrow of a glance, for +which there is no cure. Sometimes she wishes for a feast in the +sandhills, like a fawn whose eyes are full of magic. She moves; I should +say it was the branch of the Tamarisk that waves its branches to the +southern breeze. She approaches; I should say it was the frightened +fawn, when a calamity alarms it in the waste_. + +When Ibla heard from Antar this description of her charms, she was in +astonishment. But Antar continued in this state for days and nights, his +love and anguish ever increasing. + + [Antar resolves to be either tossed upon the spear-heads or + numbered among the noble; and he wanders into the plain of + lions.] + +As soon as Antar found himself in it, he said to himself, Perhaps I +shall now find a lion, and I will slay him. Then, behold a lion appeared +in the middle of the valley; he stalked about and roared aloud; wide +were his nostrils, and fire flashed from his eyes; the whole valley +trembled at every gnash of his fangs--he was a calamity, and his claws +more dreadful than the deadliest catastrophe--thunder pealed as he +roared--vast was his strength, and his force dreadful--broad were his +paws, and his head immense. Just at that moment Shedad and his brothers +came up. They saw Antar address the lion, and heard the verses that he +repeated; he sprang forward like a hailstorm, and hissed at him like a +black serpent--he met the lion as he sprang and outroared his bellow; +then, giving a dreadful shriek, he seized hold of his mouth with his +hand, and wrenched it open to his shoulders, and he shouted aloud--the +valley and the country round echoed back the war. + + [Those who were watching were astonished at his prowess, and + began to fear Antar. The horsemen now set off to attack the + tribe of Temeem, leaving the slaves to guard the women.] + +Antar was in transports on seeing Ibla appear with the other women. She +was indeed like an amorous fawn; and when Antar was attending her, he +was overwhelmed in the ocean of his love, and became the slave of her +sable tresses. They sat down to eat, and the wine-cups went merrily +round. It was the spring of the year, when the whole land shone in all +its glory; the vines hung luxuriantly in the arbors; the flowers shed +around ambrosial fragrance; every hillock sparkled in the beauty of its +colors; the birds in responsive melody sang sweetly from each bush, and +harmony issued from their throats; the ground was covered with flowers +and herbs; while the nightingales filled the air with their +softest notes. + + [While the maidens were singing and sporting, lo! on a sudden + appeared a cloud of dust walling the horizon, and a vast + clamor arose. A troop of horses and their riders, some + seventy in number, rushed forth to seize the women, and made + them prisoners. Antar instantly rescues Ibla from her captors + and engages the enemy.] + +He rushed forward to meet them, and harder than flint was his heart, and +in his attack was their fate and destiny. He returned home, taking with +him five-and-twenty horses, and all the women and children. Now the +hatred of Semeeah (his stepmother) was converted into love and +tenderness, and he became dearer to her than sleep. + + [He had thenceforward a powerful ally in her, a fervent + friend in Prince Malik, a wily counselor in his brother + Shiboob. And Antar made great progress in Ibla's heart, from + the verses that he spoke in her praise; such verses as + these:--] + +_I love thee with the love of a noble-born hero; and I am content with +thy imaginary phantom. Thou art my sovereign in my very blood; and my +mistress; and in thee is all my confidence_. + + [Antar's astonishing valor gained him the praise of the noble + Absian knights, and he was emboldened to ask his father + Shedad to acknowledge him for his son, that he might become a + chief among the Arabs. Shedad, enraged, drew his sword and + rushed upon Antar to kill him, but was prevented by Semeeah. + Antar, in the greatest agony of spirit, was ashamed that the + day should dawn on him after this refusal, or that he should + remain any longer in the country. He mounted his horse, put + on his armor, and traveled on till he was far from the tents, + and he knew not whither he was going.] + +Antar had proceeded some way, when lo! a knight rushed out from the +ravines in the rocks, mounted on a dark-colored colt, beautiful and +compact, and of a race much prized among the Arabs; his hoofs were as +flat as the beaten coin; when he neighed he seemed as if about to speak, +and his ears were like quills; his sire was Wasil and his dam Hemama. +When Antar cast his eye upon the horse, and observed his speed and his +paces, he felt that no horse could surpass him, so his whole heart and +soul longed for him. And when the knight perceived that Antar was making +toward him, he spurred his horse and it fled beneath him; for this was a +renowned horseman called Harith, the son of Obad, and he was a +valiant hero. + + [By various devices Antar became possessed of the noble horse + Abjer, whose equal no prince or emperor could boast of. His + mettle was soon tried in an affray with the tribe of Maan, + headed by the warrior Nakid, who was ferocious as a lion.] + +When Nakid saw the battle of Antar, and how alone he stood against five +thousand, and was making them drink of the cup of death and perdition, +he was overwhelmed with astonishment at his deeds. "Thou valiant slave," +he cried, "how powerful is thine arm--how strong thy wrist!" And he +rushed down upon Antar. And Antar presented himself before him, for he +was all anxiety to meet him. "O thou base-born!" cried Nakid. But Antar +permitted him not to finish his speech, before he assaulted him with the +assault of a lion, and roared at him; he was horrified and paralyzed at +the sight of Antar. Antar attacked him, thus scared and petrified, and +struck him with his sword on the head, and cleft him down the back; and +he fell, cut in twain, from the horse, and he was split in two as if by +a balance; and as Antar dealt the blow he cried out, "Oh, by Abs! oh, by +Adnan! I am ever the lover of Ibla." No sooner did the tribe of Maan +behold Antar's blow, than every one was seized with fear and dismay. The +whole five thousand made an attack like the attack of a single man; but +Antar received them as the parched ground receives the first of the +rain. His eyeballs were fiery red, and foam issued from his lips; +whenever he smote he cleft the head; every warrior he assailed, he +annihilated; he tore a rider from the back of his horse, he heaved him +on high, and whirling him in the air he struck down another with him, +and the two instantly expired. "By thine eyes, Ibla," he cried, "to-day +will I destroy all this race." Thus he proceeded until he terrified the +warriors, and hurled them into woe and disgrace, hewing off their arms +and their joints. + + [At the moment of Antar's victory his friends arrive to see + his triumph. On his way back with them he celebrates his love + for Ibla in verses.] + +_When the breezes blow from Mount Saadi, their freshness calms the fire +of my love and transports.... Her throat complains of the darkness of +her necklaces. Alas! the effects of that throat and that necklace! Will +fortune ever, O daughter of Malik, ever bless me with thy embrace, that +would cure my heart of the sorrows of love? If my eye could see her +baggage camels, and her family, I would rub my cheeks on the hoofs of +her camels. I will kiss the earth where thou art; mayhap the fire of my +love and ecstasy may be quenched.... I am the well-known Antar, the +chief of his tribe, and I shall die; but when I am gone, histories shall +tell of me_. + + [From that day forth Antar was named Abool-fawaris, that is + to say, the father of horsemen. His sword, Dhami--the + trenchant--was forged from a meteor that fell from the sky; + it was two cubits long and two spans wide. If it were + presented to Nushirvan, King of Persia, he would exalt the + giver with favors; or if it were presented to the Emperor of + Europe, one would be enriched with treasures of gold and + silver.] + +As soon as Gheidac saw the tribe of Abs, and Antar the destroyer of +horsemen, his heart was overjoyed and he cried out, "This is a glorious +morning; to-day will I take my revenge." So he assailed the tribe of Abs +and Adnan, and his people attacked behind him like a cloud when it pours +forth water and rains. And the Knight of Abs assaulted them likewise, +anxious to try his sword, the famous Dhami. And Antar fought with +Gheidac, and wearied him, and shouted at him, and filled him with +horror; then assailed him so that stirrup grated stirrup; and he struck +him on the head with Dhami. He cleft his visor and wadding, and his +sword played away between the eyes, passing through his shoulders down +to the back of the horse, even down to the ground; and he and his horse +made four pieces; and to the strictest observer, it would appear that he +had divided them with scales. And God prospered Antar in all that he +did, so that he slew all he aimed at, and overthrew all he touched. + +"Nobility," said Antar, "among liberal men, is the thrust of the spear, +the blow of the sword, and patience beneath the battle-dust. I am the +physician of the tribe of Abs in sickness, their protector in disgrace, +the defender of their wives when they are in trouble, their horseman +when they are in glory, and their sword when they rush to arms." + + [This was Antar's speech to Monzar, King of the Arabs, when + he was in search of Ibla's dowry. He found it in the land of + Irak, where the magnificent Chosroe was ready to reward him + even to the half of his kingdom, for his victory over the + champion of the Emperor of Europe.] + +"All this grandeur, and all these gifts," said Antar, "have no value to +me, no charm in my eyes. Love of my native land is the fixed passion +of my soul." + +"Do not imagine," said Chosroe, "that we have been able duly to +recompense you. What we have given you is perishable, as everything +human is, but your praises and your poems will endure forever." + + [Antar's wars made him a Nocturnal Calamity to the foes of + his tribe. He was its protector and the champion of its + women, "for Antar was particularly solicitous in the cause of + women." His generosity knew no bounds. "Antar immediately + presented the whole of the spoil to his father and his + uncles; and all the tribe of Abs were astonished at his noble + conduct and filial love." His hospitality was universal; his + magnanimity without limit. "Do not bear malice, O Shiboob. + Renounce it; for no good ever came of malice. Violence is + infamous; its result is ever uncertain, and no one can act + justly when actuated by hatred. Let my heart support every + evil, and let my patience endure till I have subdued all my + foes." Time after time he won new dowries for Ibla, even + bringing the treasures of Persia to her feet. Treacheries + without count divided him from his promised bride. Over and + over again he rescued her from the hands of the enemy; and + not only her, but her father and her hostile kinsmen. + + At last (in the fourth volume, on the fourteen hundred and + fifty-third page) Antar makes his wedding feasts.] + +"I wish to make at Ibla's wedding five separate feasts; I will feed the +birds and the beasts, the men and the women, the girls and the boys, and +not a single person shall remain in the whole country but shall eat at +Ibla's marriage festival." + +Antar was at the summit of his happiness and delight, congratulating +himself on his good fortune and perfect felicity, all trouble and +anxiety being now banished from his heart. Praise be to God, the +dispenser of all grief from the hearts of virtuous men. + + [The three hundred and sixty tribes of the Arabs were invited + to the feast, and on the eighth day the assembled chiefs + presented their gifts--horses, armor, slaves, perfumes, gold, + velvet, camels. The number of slaves Antar received that day + was five-and-twenty hundred, to each of whom he gave a + damsel, a horse, and weapons. And they all mounted when he + rode out, and halted when he halted.] + +Now when all the Arab chiefs had presented their offerings, each +according to his circumstances, Antar rose, and called out to +Mocriul-Wahsh:--"O Knight of Syria," said he, "let all the he and she +camels, high-priced horses, and all the various rarities I have received +this day, be a present from me to you. But the perfumes of ambergris, +and fragrant musk, belong to my cousin Ibla; and the slaves shall form +my army and troops." And the Arab chiefs marveled at his generosity.... + +And now Ibla was clothed in the most magnificent garments, and superb +necklaces; they placed the coronet of Chosroe on her head, and tiaras +round her forehead. They lighted brilliant and scented candles before +her--the perfumes were scattered--the torches blazed--and Ibla came +forth in state. All present gave a shout; while the malicious and +ill-natured cried aloud, "What a pity that one so beautiful and fair +should be wedded to one so black!" + + [The selections are from Hamilton's translation. Two long + episodes in 'Antar' are especially noteworthy: the famous + horse race between the champions of the tribes of Abs and + Fazarah (Vol. iv., Chapter 33), and the history of Khalid and + Jaida (Vol. ii., Chapter 11).] + + + +LUCIUS APULEIUS + +(Second Century A. D.) + + +Lucius Apuleius, author of the brilliant Latin novel 'The +Metamorphoses,' also called 'The [Golden] Ass,'--and more generally +known under that title,--will be remembered when many greater writers +shall have been forgotten. The downfall of Greek political freedom +brought a period of intellectual development fertile in prose +story-telling,--short fables and tales, novels philosophic and +religious, historical and satiric, novels of love, novels of adventure. +Yet, strange to say, while the instinct was prolific in the Hellenic +domain of the Roman Empire, it was for the most part sterile in Italy, +though Roman life was saturated with the influence of Greek culture. Its +only two notable examples are Petronius Arbiter and Apuleius, both of +whom belong to the first two centuries of the Christian epoch. + +[Illustration: Apuleius] + +The suggestion of the plan of the novel familiarly known as 'The Golden +Ass' was from a Greek source, Lucius of Patræ. The original version was +still extant in the days of Photius, Patriarch of the Greek Church in +the ninth century. Lucian, the Greek satirist, also utilized the same +material in a condensed form in his 'Lucius, or the Ass.' But Apuleius +greatly expanded the legend, introduced into it numerous episodes, and +made it the background of a vivid picture of the manners and customs of +a corrupt age. Yet underneath its lively portraiture there runs a +current of mysticism at variance with the naïve rehearsal of the hero's +adventures, and this has tempted critics to find a hidden meaning in the +story. Bishop Warburton, in his 'Divine Legation of Moses,' professes to +see in it a defense of Paganism at the expense of struggling +Christianity. While this seems absurd, it is fairly evident that the +mind of the author was busied with something more than the mere +narration of rollicking adventure, more even than a satire on Roman +life. The transformation of the hero into an ass, at the moment when he +was plunging headlong into a licentious career, and the recovery of his +manhood again through divine intervention, suggest a serious symbolism. +The beautiful episode of 'Cupid and Psyche,' which would lend salt to a +production far more corrupt, is also suggestive. Apuleius perfected this +wild flower of ancient folk-lore into a perennial plant that has +blossomed ever since along the paths of literature and art. The story +has been accepted as a fitting embodiment of the struggle of the soul +toward a higher perfection; yet, strange to say, the episode is narrated +with as brutal a realism as if it were a satire of Lucian, and its style +is belittled with petty affectations of rhetoric. It is the enduring +beauty of the conception that has continued to fascinate. Hence we may +say of 'The Golden Ass' in its entirety, that whether readers are +interested in esoteric meanings to be divined, or in the author's vivid +sketches of his own period, the novel has a charm which long centuries +have failed to dim. + +Apuleius was of African birth and of good family, his mother having come +of Plutarch's blood. The second century of the Roman Empire, when he +lived (he was born at Madaura about A. D. 139), was one of the most +brilliant periods in history,--brilliant in its social gayety, in its +intellectual activities, and in the splendor of its achievements. The +stimulus of the age spurred men far in good and evil. Apuleius studied +at Carthage, and afterward at Rome, both philosophy and religion, though +this bias seems not to have dulled his taste for worldly pleasure. Poor +in purse, he finally enriched himself by marrying a wealthy widow and +inheriting her property. Her will was contested on the ground that this +handsome and accomplished young literary man had exercised magic in +winning his elderly bride! The successful defense of Apuleius before his +judges--a most diverting composition, so jaunty and full of witty +impertinences that it is evident he knew the hard-headed Roman judges +would dismiss the prosecution as a farce--is still extant under the name +of 'The Apology; or, Concerning Magic.' This in after days became oddly +jumbled with the story of 'The Golden Ass' and its transformations, so +that St. Augustine was inclined to believe Apuleius actually a species +of professional wizard. + +The plot of 'The Golden Ass' is very simple. Lucius of Madaura, a young +man of property, sets out on his travels to sow his wild oats. He +pursues this pleasant occupation with the greatest zeal according to the +prevailing mode: he is no moralist. The partner of his first intrigue is +the maid of a woman skilled in witchcraft. The curiosity of Lucius being +greatly exercised about the sorceress and her magic, he importunes the +girl to procure from her mistress a magic salve which will transform him +at will into an owl. By mistake he receives the wrong salve; and instead +of the bird metamorphosis which he had looked for, he undergoes an +unlooked-for change into an ass. In this guise, and in the service of +various masters, he has opportunities of observing the follies of men +from a novel standpoint. His adventures are numerous, and he hears many +strange stories, the latter being chronicled as episodes in the record +of his experiences. At last the goddess Isis appears in a dream, and +obligingly shows him the way to effect his second metamorphosis, by aid +of the high priest of her temple, where certain mysteries are about to +be celebrated. Lucius is freed from his disguise, and is initiated into +the holy rites. + +'The Golden Ass' is full of dramatic power and variety. The succession +of incident, albeit grossly licentious at times, engages the interest +without a moment's dullness. The main narrative, indeed, is no less +entertaining than the episodes. The work became a model for +story-writers of a much later period, even to the times of Fielding and +Smollett. Boccaccio borrowed freely from it; at least one of the many +humorous exploits of Cervantes's 'Don Quixote' can be attributed to an +adventure of Lucius; while 'Gil Blas' abounds in reminiscences of the +Latin novel. The student of folk-lore will easily detect in the tasks +imposed by Venus on her unwelcome daughter-in-law, in the episode of +'Cupid and Psyche,' the possible original from which the like fairy +tales of Europe drew many a suggestion. Probably Apuleius himself was +indebted to still earlier Greek sources. + +Scarcely any Latin production was more widely known and studied from the +beginning of the Italian Renaissance to the middle of the seventeenth +century. In its style, however, it is far from classic. It is full of +archaisms and rhetorical conceits. In striving to say things finely, the +author frequently failed to say them well. This fault, however, largely +disappears in the translation; and whatever may be the literary defects +of the novel, it offers rich compensation in the liveliness, humor, and +variety of its substance. + +In addition to 'The Golden Ass,' the extant writings of Apuleius include +'Florida' (an anthology from his own works), 'The God of Socrates,' 'The +Philosophy of Plato,' and 'Concerning the World,' a treatise once +attributed to Aristotle. The best modern edition of his complete works +is that of Hildebrand (Leipzig, 1842); of the 'Metamorphoses,' that of +Eyssenhardt (Berlin, 1869). There have been many translations into the +modern languages. The best English versions are those of T. Taylor +(London, 1822); of Sir G. Head, somewhat expurgated (London, 1851); and +an unsigned translation published in the Bohn Library, which has been +drawn on for this work, but greatly rewritten as too stiff and prolix, +and in the conversations often wholly unnatural. A very pretty edition +in French, with many illustrations, is that of Savalète (Paris, 1872). + + +THE TALE OF ARISTOMENES, THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER + +From 'The Metamorphoses' + +I am a native of Ægina, and I travel in Thessaly, Ætolia, and Boeotia to +purchase honey of Hypata, cheese, and other articles used in cookery. +Having heard that at Hypata, the principal city of Thessaly, +fine-flavored new cheese was for sale cheap, I made the best of my way +there to buy it all up. But as usual, happening to start left foot +foremost, which is unlucky, all my hopes of profit came to nothing; for +a fellow named Lupus, a merchant who does things on a big scale, had +bought the whole of it the day before. + +Weary with my hurried journey to no purpose, I was going early in the +evening to the public baths, when to my surprise I espied an old +companion of mine named Socrates. He was sitting on the ground, half +covered with a rag-tag cloak, and looking like somebody else, he was so +miserably wan and thin,--in fact, just like a street beggar; so that +though he used to be my friend and close acquaintance, I had two minds +about speaking to him. + +"How now, friend Socrates!" said I: "what does this mean? Why are you +tricked out like this? What crime have you been guilty of? Why, you +look as though your family had given you up for dead and held your +funeral long ago, the probate judge had appointed guardians for your +children, and your wife, disfigured by her long mourning, having cried +herself almost blind, was being worried by her parents to sit up and +take notice of things, and look for a new marriage. Yet now, all of a +sudden, here you come before us like a wretched ghost from the dead, to +turn everything upside down.'" + +"O Aristomenes!" said he, "it's clear that you don't know the slippery +turns, the freaks, and the never-ending tricks of fortune." + +As he said this, he hid his face, crimson with shame, in his one garment +of patches and tatters. I could not bear such a miserable sight, and +tried to raise him from the ground. But he kept saying with his head all +covered up, "Let me alone! let me alone! let Fortune have her way +with me!" + +However, I finally persuaded him to go with me; and at the same time +pulling off one of my own garments, I speedily clothed him, or at any +rate covered him. I next took him to a bath, scrubbed and oiled him +myself, and laboriously rubbed the matted dirt off him. Having done all +I could, though tired out myself, I supported his feeble steps, and with +great difficulty brought him to my inn. There I made him lie down on a +bed, gave him plenty of food, braced him up with wine, and entertained +him with the news of the day. Pretty soon our conversation took a merry +turn; we cracked jokes, and grew noisy as we chattered. All of a sudden, +heaving a bitter sigh from the bottom of his chest, and striking his +forehead violently with his right hand, he said:-- + +"Miserable wretch that I am, to have got into such a predicament while +having a good time at a gladiatorial show! As you know, I went to +Macedonia on business; it took me ten months; I was on my way home with +a very neat sum of money, and had nearly reached Larissa, which I +included in my route in order to see the show I mentioned, when I was +attacked by robbers in a lonely valley, and only escaped after losing +everything I had. In my distress I betook myself to a certain woman +named Meroë, who kept a tavern (and who, though rather old, was very +good-looking), and told her about my long absence, my earnest desire to +reach home, and my being robbed that very day. She treated me with the +greatest kindness, gave me a good supper for nothing, and then let me +make love to her. But from the very moment that I was such a fool as to +dally with her, my mind seemed to desert me. I even gave her the clothes +which the robbers in common decency had left me, and the little earnings +I made there by working as cloakmaker so long as I was in good physical +condition; until at length this kind friend, and bad luck together, +reduced me to the state you just now found me in." + +"By Pollux, then," said I, "you deserve to suffer the very worst +misfortunes (if there be anything worse than the worst), for having +preferred a wrinkled old reprobate to your home and children." + +"Hush! hush!" said he, putting his forefinger on his lips, and looking +round with a terror-stricken face to see if we were alone. "Beware of +reviling a woman skilled in the black art, for fear of doing yourself a +mischief." + +"Say you so?" said I. "What kind of a woman is this innkeeper, so +powerful and dreadful?" + +"She is a sorceress," he replied, "and possessed of magic powers; she +can draw down the heavens, make the earth heave, harden the running +water, dissolve mountains, raise the shades of the dead, dethrone the +gods, extinguish the stars, and set the very depths of Tartarus ablaze!" + +"Come, come!" said I: "end this tragic talk, fold up your theatrical +drop-scenes, and let us hear your story in every-day language." + +"Should you like," said he, "to hear of one or two, yes, or a great many +of her performances? Why, to make not only her fellow-countrymen, but +the Indians, the Ethiopians, or even the Antipodeans, love her to +distraction, are only the easy lessons of her art, as it were, and mere +trifles. Listen to what she has done before many witnesses. By a single +word she changed a lover into a beaver, because he had gone to another +flame. She changed an innkeeper, a neighbor of hers she was envious of, +into a frog; and now the old fellow, swimming about in a cask of his own +wine, or buried in the dregs, croaks hoarsely to his old +customers,--quite in the way of business. She changed another person, a +lawyer from the Forum, into a ram, because he had conducted a suit +against her; to this very day that ram is always butting about. Finally, +however, public indignation was aroused by so many people coming to harm +through her arts; and the very next day had been fixed upon to wreak a +fearful vengeance on her, by stoning her to death. She frustrated the +design by her enchantments. You remember how Medea, having got Creon to +allow her just one day before her departure, burned his whole palace, +with himself and his daughter in it, by means of flames issuing from a +garland? Well, this sorceress, having performed certain deadly +incantations in a ditch (she told me so herself in a drunken fit), +confined everybody in the town each in his own house for two whole days, +by a secret spell of the demons. The bars could not be wrenched off, nor +the doors taken off the hinges, nor even a breach made in the walls. At +last, by common consent, the people all swore they would not lift a hand +against her, and would come to her defense if any one else did. She then +liberated the whole city. But in the middle of the night she conveyed +the author of the conspiracy, with all his house, close barred as it +was,--the walls, the very ground, and even the foundations,--to another +city a hundred miles off, on the top of a craggy mountain, and so +without water. And as the houses of the inhabitants were built so close +together that there was not room for the new-comer, she threw down the +house before the gate of the city and took her departure." + +"You narrate marvelous things," said I, "my good Socrates; and no less +terrible than marvelous. In fact, you have excited no small anxiety +(indeed I may say fear) in me too; not a mere grain of apprehension, but +a piercing dread for fear this old hag should come to know our +conversation in the same way, by the help of some demon. Let us get to +bed without delay; and when we have rested ourselves by a little sleep, +let us fly as far as we possibly can before daylight." + +While I was still advising him thus, the worthy Socrates, overcome by +more wine than he was used to and by his fatigue, had fallen asleep and +was snoring loudly. I shut the door, drew the bolts, and placing my bed +close against the hinges, tossed it up well and lay down on it. I lay +awake some time through fear, but closed my eyes at last a little +before midnight. + +I had just fallen asleep, when suddenly the door was burst open with +such violence that it was evidently not done by robbers; the hinges were +absolutely broken and wrenched off, and it was thrown to the ground. The +small bedstead, minus one foot and rotten, was also upset by the shock; +and falling upon me, who had been rolled out on the floor, it completely +covered and hid me. Then I perceived that certain emotions can be +excited by exactly opposite causes; for as tears often come from joy, +so, in spite of my terror, I could not help laughing to see myself +turned from Aristomenes into a tortoise. As I lay on the floor, +completely covered by the bed, and peeping out to see what was the +matter, I saw two old women, one carrying a lighted lamp and the other a +sponge and a drawn sword, plant themselves on either side of Socrates, +who was fast asleep. + +The one with the sword said to the other:--"This, sister Panthea, is my +dear Endymion, my Ganymede, who by day and by night has laughed my youth +to scorn. This is he who, despising my passion, not only defames me with +abusive language, but is preparing also for flight; and I forsooth, +deserted through the craft of this Ulysses, like another Calypso, am to +be left to lament in eternal loneliness!" + +Then extending her right hand, and pointing me out to her friend +Panthea:-- + +"And there," said she, "is his worthy counselor, Aristomenes, who was +the planner of this flight, and who now, half dead, is lying flat on the +ground under the bedstead and looking at all that is going on, while he +fancies that he is to tell scandalous stories of me with impunity. I'll +take care, however, that some day, aye, and before long, too,--this very +instant, in fact,--he shall repent of his recent chatter and his present +curiosity." + +On hearing this I felt myself streaming with cold perspiration, and my +heart began to throb so violently that even the bedstead danced on +my back. + +"Well, sister," said the worthy Panthea, "shall we hack him to pieces at +once, like the Bacchanals, or tie his limbs and mutilate him?" + +To this Meroë replied,--and I saw from what was happening, as well as +from what Socrates had told, how well the name fitted her,--"Rather let +him live, if only to cover the body of this wretched creature with a +little earth." + +Then, moving Socrates's head to one side, she plunged the sword into his +throat up to the hilt, catching the blood in a small leathern bottle so +carefully that not a drop of it was to be seen. All this I saw with my +own eyes. The worthy Meroë--in order, I suppose, not to omit any due +observance in the sacrifice of the victim--then thrust her right hand +through the wound, and drew forth the heart of my unhappy companion. His +windpipe being severed, he emitted a sort of indistinct gurgling noise, +and poured forth his breath with his bubbling blood. Panthea then +stopped the gaping wound with a sponge, exclaiming, "Beware, O sea-born +sponge, how thou dost pass through a river!" + +When she had said this, they lifted my bed from the ground, and dashed +over me a mass of filth. + +Hardly had they passed over the threshold when the door resumed its +former state. The hinges settled back on the panels, the posts returned +to the bars, and the bolts flew back to their sockets again. I lay +prostrate on the ground in a squalid plight, terrified, naked, cold, and +drenched. Indeed, I was half dead, though still alive; and pursued a +train of reflections like one already in the grave, or to say the least +on the way to the cross, to which I was surely destined. "What," said I, +"will become of me, when this man is found in the morning with his +throat cut? If I tell the truth, who will believe a word of the story? +'You ought at least,' they will say, 'to have called for help, if as +strong a man as you are could not withstand a woman! Is a man's throat +to be cut before your eyes, and you keep silence? Why was it that you +were not assassinated too? How did the villains come to spare you, a +witness of the murder? They would naturally kill you, if only to put an +end to all evidence of the crime. Since your escape from death was +against reason, return to it.'" + +I said these things to myself over and over again, while the night was +fast verging toward day. It seemed best to me, therefore, to escape on +the sly before daylight and pursue my journey, though I was all in a +tremble. I took up my bundle, put the key in the door, and drew back the +bolts. But this good and faithful door, which had opened of its own +accord in the night, would not open now till I had tried the key again +and again. + +"Hallo, porter!" said I, "where are you? Open the gate, I want to be off +before daybreak." + +The porter, who was lying on the ground behind the door, only grunted, +"Why do you want to begin a journey at this time of night? Don't you +know the roads are infested by robbers? You may have a mind to meet your +death,--perhaps your conscience stings you for some crime you have +committed; but I haven't a head like a pumpkin, that I should die for +your sake!" + +"It isn't very far from daybreak," said I; "and besides, what can +robbers take from a traveler in utter poverty? Don't _you_ know, you +fool, that a naked man can't be stripped by ten athletes?" + +The drowsy porter turned over and answered;--"And how am I to know but +what you have murdered that fellow-traveler of yours that you came here +with last night, and are running away to save yourself? And now I +remember that I saw Tartarus through a hole in the earth just at that +hour, and Cerberus looking ready to eat me up." + +Then I came to the conclusion that the worthy Meroë had not spared my +throat out of pity, but to reserve me for the cross. So, on returning to +my chamber, I thought over some speedy method of putting an end to +myself; but fortune had provided me with no weapon for self-destruction, +except the bedstead. "Now, bedstead," said I, "most dear to my soul, +partner with me in so many sorrows, fully conscious and a spectator of +this night's events, and whom alone when accused I can adduce as a +witness of my innocence--do thou supply me (who would fain hasten to the +shades below) a welcome instrument of death." + +Thus saying, I began to undo the bed-cord. I threw one end of it over a +small beam projecting above the window, fastened it there, and made a +slip-knot at the other end. Then I mounted on the bed, and thus elevated +for my own destruction, put my head into the noose and kicked away my +support with one foot; so that the noose, tightened about my throat by +the strain of my weight, might stop my breath. But the rope, which was +old and rotten, broke in two; and falling from aloft, I tumbled heavily +upon Socrates, who was lying close by, and rolled with him on the floor. + +Lo and behold! at that very instant the porter burst into the room, +bawling out, "Where are you, you who were in such monstrous haste to be +off at midnight, and now lie snoring, rolled up in the bed-clothes?" + +At these words--whether awakened by my fall or by the rasping voice of +the porter, I know not--Socrates was the first to start up; and he +exclaimed, "Evidently travelers have good reason for detesting these +hostlers. This nuisance here, breaking in without being asked,--most +likely to steal something,--has waked me out of a sound sleep by his +outrageous bellowing." + +On hearing him speak I jumped up briskly, in an ecstasy of unhoped-for +joy:--"Faithfulest of porters," I exclaimed, "my friend, my own father, +and my brother,--behold him whom you, in your drunken fit, falsely +accuse me of having murdered." + +So saying, I embraced Socrates, and was for loading him with kisses; but +he repulsed me with considerable violence. "Get out with you!" he cried. +Sorely confused, I trumped up some absurd story on the spur of the +moment, to give another turn to the conversation, and taking him by the +right hand-- + +"Why not be off," said I, "and enjoy the freshness of the morning on our +journey?" + +So I took my bundle, and having paid the innkeeper for our night's +lodging, we started on our road. + +We had gone some little distance, and now, everything being illumined by +the beams of the rising sun, I keenly and attentively examined that part +of my companion's neck into which I had seen the sword plunged. + +"Foolish man," said I to myself, "buried in your cups, you certainly +have had a most absurd dream. Why, look: here's Socrates, safe, sound, +and hearty. Where is the wound? Where is the sponge? Where is the scar +of a gash so deep and so recent?" + +Addressing myself to him, I remarked, "No wonder the doctors say that +hideous and ominous dreams come only to people stuffed with food and +liquor. My own case is a good instance. I went beyond moderation in my +drinking last evening, and have passed a wretched night full of shocking +and dreadful visions, so that I still fancy myself spattered and defiled +with human gore." + +"It is not gore," he replied with a smile, "that you are sprinkled with. +And yet in my sleep I thought my own throat was being cut, and felt some +pain in my neck, and fancied that my very heart was being plucked out. +Even now I am quite faint; my knees tremble; I stagger as I go, and feel +in want of some food to hearten me up." + +"Look," cried I, "here is breakfast all ready for you." So saying, I +lifted my wallet from my shoulders, handed him some bread and cheese, +and said, "Let us sit down near that plane-tree." We did so, and I +helped myself to some refreshment. While looking at him more closely, as +he was eating with a voracious appetite, I saw that he was faint, and of +a hue like boxwood. His natural color, in fact, had so forsaken him, +that as I recalled those nocturnal furies to my frightened imagination, +the very first piece of bread I put in my mouth, though exceedingly +small, stuck in the middle of my throat and would pass neither downward +nor upward. Besides, the number of people passing along increased my +fears; for who would believe that one of two companions could meet his +death except at the hands of the other? + +Presently, after having gorged himself with food, he began to be +impatient for some drink, for he had bolted the larger part of an +excellent cheese. Not far from the roots of the plane-tree a gentle +stream flowed slowly along, like a placid lake, rivaling silver +or crystal. + +"Look," said I: "drink your fill of the water of this stream, bright as +the Milky Way." + +He arose, and, wrapping himself in his cloak, with his knees doubled +under him, knelt down upon the shelving bank and bent greedily toward +the water. Scarcely had he touched its surface with his lips, when the +wound in his throat burst open and the sponge rolled out, a few drops of +blood with it; and his lifeless body would have fallen into the river +had I not laid hold of one of his feet, and dragged him with great +difficulty and labor to the top of the bank. There, having mourned my +hapless comrade as much as there was time, I buried him in the sandy +soil that bordered the stream. Then, trembling and terror-stricken, I +fled through various unfrequented places; and as though guilty of +homicide, abandoned my country and my home, embraced a voluntary exile, +and now dwell in Ætolia, where I have married another wife. + +Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.' + + +THE AWAKENING OF CUPID + + [The radical difference in the constituent parts of the + 'Golden Ass' is startling, and is well illustrated by the + selection given previously and that which follows. The story + of the "drummer" comports exactly with the modern idea of + realism in fiction: a vivid and unflinching picture of + manners and morals, full of broad coarse humor and worldly + wit. The story of Cupid and Psyche is the purest, daintiest, + most poetic of fancies; in essence a fairy tale that might be + told of an evening by the fire-light in the second century or + the nineteenth, but embodying also a high and beautiful + allegory, and treated with a delicate art which is in extreme + contrast with the body of the 'Golden Ass.' The difference is + almost as striking as between Gray's lampoon on "Jemmy + Twitcher" and his 'Bard' or 'Elegy'; or between + Aristophanes's revels in filth and his ecstatic soarings into + the heavenliest regions of poetry. + + The contrast is even more rasping when we remember that the + tale is not put into the mouth of a girl gazing dreamily into + the glowing coals on the hearth, or of some elegant reciter + amusing a social group in a Roman drawing-room or garden, + but of a grizzled hag who is maid of all work in a robbers' + cave. She tells it to divert the mind of a lovely young bride + held for ransom. It begins like a modern fairy tale, with a + great king and queen who had "three daughters of remarkable + beauty," the loveliest being the peerless Psyche. Even Venus + becomes envious of the honors paid to Psyche's charms, and + summons Cupid to wing one of his shafts which shall cause her + "to be seized with the most burning love for the lowest of + mankind," so as to disgrace and ruin her. Cupid undertakes + the task, but instead falls in love with her himself. + Meanwhile an oracle from Apollo, instigated by Venus, dooms + her to be sacrificed in marriage to some unknown aërial + monster, who must find her alone on a naked rock. She is so + placed, awaiting her doom in terror; but the zephyrs bear her + away to the palace of Love. Cupid hides her there, lest Venus + wreak vengeance on them both: and there, half terrified but + soon soothed, in the darkness of night she hears from Cupid + that he, her husband, is no monster, but the fairest of + immortals. He will not disclose his identity, however; not + only so, but he tenderly warns her that she must not seek to + discover it, or even to behold him, till he gives permission, + unless she would bring hopeless disaster on both. Nor must + she confide in her two sisters, lest their unwisdom or sudden + envy cause harm. + + The simple-hearted and affectionate girl, however, in her + craving for sympathy, cannot resist the temptation to boast + of her happiness to her sisters. She invites them to pass a + day in her magnificent new home, and tells contradictory + stories about her husband. Alas! they depart bitterly + envious, and plotting to make her ruin her own joy out of + fear and curiosity.] + +"What are we to say, sister, [said one to the other] of the monstrous +lies of that silly creature? At one time her husband is a young man, +with the down just showing itself on his chin; at another he is of +middle age, and his hair begins to be silvered with gray.... You may +depend upon it, sister, either the wretch has invented these lies to +deceive us, or else she does not know herself how her husband looks. +Whichever is the case, she must be deprived of these riches as soon as +possible. And yet, if she is really ignorant of her husband's +appearance, she must no doubt have married a god, and who knows what +will happen? At all events, if--which heaven forbid--she does become the +mother of a divine infant, I shall instantly hang myself. Meanwhile let +us return to our parents, and devise some scheme based on what we have +just been saying." + +The sisters, thus inflamed with jealousy, called on their parents in a +careless and disdainful manner; and after being kept awake all night by +the turbulence of their spirits, made all haste at morning to the rock, +whence, by the wonted assistance of the breeze, they descended swiftly +to Psyche, and with tears squeezed out by rubbing their eyelids, thus +craftily addressed her:-- + +"Happy indeed are you, and fortunate in your very ignorance of so heavy +a misfortune. There you sit, without a thought of danger; while we, your +sisters, who watch over your interests with the most vigilant care, are +in anguish at your lost condition. For we have learned as truth, and as +sharers in your sorrows and misfortunes cannot conceal it from you, that +it is an enormous serpent, gliding along in many folds and coils, with a +neck swollen with deadly venom, and prodigious gaping jaws, that +secretly sleeps with you by night. Remember the Pythian Oracle. Besides, +a great many of the husbandmen, who hunt all round the country, and ever +so many of the neighbors, have observed him returning home from his +feeding-place in the evening. All declare, too, that he will not long +continue to pamper you with delicacies, but will presently devour you. +Will you listen to us, who are so anxious for your precious safety, and +avoiding death, live with us secure from danger, or die horribly? But if +you are fascinated by your country home, or by the endearments of a +serpent, we have at all events done our duty toward you, like +affectionate sisters." + +Poor, simple, tender-hearted Psyche was aghast with horror at this +dreadful story; and quite bereft of her senses, lost all remembrance of +her husband's admonitions and of her own promises, and hurled herself +headlong into the very abyss of calamity. Trembling, therefore, with +pale and livid cheeks and an almost lifeless voice, she faltered out +these broken words:-- + +"Dearest sisters, you have acted toward me as you ought, and with your +usual affectionate care; and indeed, it appears to me that those who +gave you this information have not invented a falsehood. For, in fact, I +have never yet beheld my husband's face, nor do I know at all whence he +comes. I only hear him speak in an undertone by night, and have to bear +with a husband of an unknown appearance, and one that has an utter +aversion to the light of day. He may well, therefore, be some monster or +other. Besides, he threatens some shocking misfortune as the consequence +of indulging any curiosity to view his features. So, then, if you are +able to give any aid to your sister in this perilous emergency, don't +delay a moment." + + [One of them replies:--] + +"Since the ties of blood oblige us to disregard peril when your safety +is to be insured, we will tell you the only means of safety. We have +considered it over and over again. On that side of the bed where you are +used to lie, conceal a very sharp razor; and also hide under the +tapestry a lighted lamp, well trimmed and full of oil. Make these +preparations with the utmost secrecy. After the monster has glided into +bed as usual, when he is stretched out at length, fast asleep and +breathing heavily, as you slide out of bed, go softly along with bare +feet and on tiptoe, and bring out the lamp from its hiding-place; then +having the aid of its light, raise your right hand, bring down the +weapon with all your might, and cut off the head of the creature at the +neck. Then we will bring you away with all these things, and if you +wish, will wed you to a human creature like yourself." + + [They then depart, fearing for themselves if they are near + when the catastrophe happens.] + +But Psyche, now left alone, except so far as a person who is agitated by +maddening Furies is not alone, fluctuated in sorrow like a stormy sea; +and though her purpose was fixed and her heart was resolute when she +first began to make preparations for the impious work, her mind now +wavered, and feared. She hurried, she procrastinated; now she was bold, +now tremulous; now dubious, now agitated by rage; and what was the most +singular thing of all, in the same being she hated the beast and loved +the husband. Nevertheless, as the evening drew to a close, she hurriedly +prepared the instruments of her enterprise. + +The night came, and with it her husband. After he fell asleep, Psyche, +to whose weak body and spirit the cruel influence of fate imparted +unusual strength, uncovered the lamp, and seized the knife with the +courage of a man. But the instant she advanced, she beheld the very +gentlest and sweetest of all creatures, even Cupid himself, the +beautiful God of Love, there fast asleep; at sight of whom, the joyous +flame of the lamp shone with redoubled vigor, and the sacrilegious +dagger repented the keenness of its edge. + +But Psyche, losing the control of her senses, faint, deadly pale, and +trembling all over, fell on her knees, and made an attempt to hide the +blade in her own bosom; and this no doubt she would have done had not +the blade, dreading the commission of such a crime, glided out of her +rash hand. And now, faint and unnerved as she was, she felt herself +refreshed at heart by gazing upon the beauty of those divine features. +She looked upon the genial locks of his golden head, teeming with +ambrosial perfume, the circling curls that strayed over his milk-white +neck and roseate cheeks, and fell gracefully entangled, some before and +some behind, causing the very light of the lamp itself to flicker by +their radiant splendor. On the shoulders of the god were dewy wings of +brilliant whiteness; and though the pinions were at rest, yet the tender +down that fringed the feathers wantoned to and fro in tremulous, +unceasing play. The rest of his body was smooth and beautiful, and such +as Venus could not have repented of giving birth to. At the foot of his +bed lay his bow, his quiver, and his arrows, the auspicious weapons of +the mighty god. + +While with insatiable wonder and curiosity Psyche is examining and +admiring her husband's weapons, she draws one of the arrows out of the +quiver, and touches the point with the tip of her thumb to try its +sharpness; but happening to press too hard, for her hand still trembled, +she punctured the skin, so that some tiny drops of rosy blood oozed +forth. And thus did Psyche, without knowing it, fall in love with Love. +Then, burning more and more with desire for Cupid, gazing passionately +on his face, and fondly kissing him again and again, her only fear was +lest he should wake too soon. + +But while she hung over him, bewildered with delight so overpowering, +the lamp, whether from treachery or baneful envy, or because it longed +to touch, and to kiss as it were, so beautiful an object, spirted a drop +of scalding oil from the summit of its flame upon the right shoulder of +the god.... The god, thus scorched, sprang from the bed, and seeing the +disgraceful tokens of forfeited fidelity, started to fly away, without a +word, from the eyes and arms of his most unhappy wife. But Psyche, the +instant he arose, seized hold of his right leg with both hands, and hung +on to him, a wretched appendage to his flight through the regions of the +air, till at last her strength failed her, and she fell to the earth. + +Translation of Bohn Library, revised. + + + + +THOMAS AQUINAS + +(1226-1274) + +BY EDWIN A. PACE + + +Thomas Aquinas, philosopher and theologian, was born in 1226, at or near +Aquino, in Southern Italy. He received his early training from the +Benedictines of Monte Cassino. Tradition says he was a taciturn and +seemingly dull boy, derisively nicknamed by his fellows "the dumb ox," +but admired by his teachers. He subsequently entered the University of +Naples. While studying there he joined the Dominican Order, and was sent +later on to Cologne, where he became a pupil of Albertus Magnus. In 1251 +he went to Paris, took his degrees in theology, and began his career as +a teacher in the University. His academic work there was continued, with +slight interruptions, till 1261. The eleven years which followed were +spent partly in Rome, where Thomas enjoyed the esteem of Urban IV. and +Clement IV., and partly in the cities of Northern Italy, which he +visited in the interest of his Order. During this period he produced the +greatest of his works, and won such repute as a theologian that the +leading universities made every effort to secure him as a teacher. He +was appointed to a professorship at Naples, where he remained from 1272 +until the early part of 1274. Summoned by Gregory X. to take part in the +Council of Lyons, he set out on his journey northward, but was compelled +by illness to stop at Fossa Nuova. Here he died March 7th, 1274. He was +canonized in 1323, and was proclaimed a doctor of the Church by Pius +V. in 1567. + +[Illustration: THOMAS AQUINAS] + +These honors were merited by a remarkable combination of ability and +virtue. To an absolute purity of life, St. Thomas added an earnest love +of truth and of labor. Calm in the midst of discussion, he was equally +proof against the danger of brilliant success. As the friend of popes +and princes, he might have attained the highest dignities; but these he +steadfastly declined, devoting himself, so far as his duty permitted, to +scientific pursuits. Judged by his writings, he was intense yet +thoroughly objective, firm in his own position but dispassionate in +treating the opinions of others. Conclusions reached by daring +speculation and faultless logic are stated simply, impersonally. Keen +replies are given without bitterness, and the boldest efforts of reason +are united with the submissiveness of faith. + +His works fill twenty-five large quarto volumes of the Parma edition. +This is, so far, the most complete collection, though various portions +have been edited from time to time with the commentaries of learned +theologians like Cajetan and Sylvius. Partial translations have also +been made into several modern languages; but as yet there is no complete +English edition of St. Thomas. + +Turning to the Latin text, the student cannot but notice the contrast +between the easy diction of modern philosophical writers and the rugged +conciseness of the mediæval Schoolman. On the other hand, disappointment +awaits those who quit the pages of Cicero for the less elegant Latinity +of the Middle Ages. What can be said in favor of scholastic "style" is +that it expresses clearly and tersely the subtle shades of thought which +had developed through thirteen centuries, and which often necessitated a +sacrifice of classic form. With the Schoolmen, as with modern writers on +scientific subjects, precision was the first requisite, and terminology +was of more consequence than literary beauty. + +Similar standards must be kept in view when we pass judgment upon the +technique of St. Thomas. In his presentation we find neither the +eloquence nor the rhetoric of the Fathers. He quotes them continually, +and in some of his works adopts their division into books and chapters. +But his exposition is more compact, consisting at times of clear-cut +arguments in series without an attempt at transition, at other times of +sustained reasoning processes in which no phrase is superfluous and no +word ambiguous. Elsewhere he uses the more rigid mold which was peculiar +to the Scholastic Period, and had been fashioned chiefly by Alexander +Hales. Each subject is divided into so many "questions," and each +question into so many "articles." The "article" begins with the +statement of objections, then discusses various opinions, establishes +the author's position, and closes with a solution of the difficulties +which that position may encounter. This method had its advantages. It +facilitated analysis, and obliged the writer to examine every aspect of +a problem. It secured breadth of view and thoroughness of treatment. It +was, especially, a transparent medium for reason, unbiased by either +sentiment or verbiage. + +If such qualities of style and presentation were encouraged by the +environment in which Aquinas pursued his earlier studies, they were also +helpful in the task which he chose as his life-work. This was the +construction of a system in which all the elements of knowledge should +be harmoniously united. An undertaking so vast necessitated a long +preparation, the study of all available sources, and the elucidation of +many detailed problems. Hence, a considerable portion of St. Thomas's +works is taken up with the explanation of Peter Lombard's 'Sententiæ,' +with Commentaries on Aristotle, with Expositions of Sacred Scripture, +collections from the Fathers, and various _opuscula_ or studies on +special subjects. Under the title 'Quæstiones Disputatæ,' numerous +problems in philosophy and theology are discussed at length. But the +synthetic power of Aquinas is shown chiefly in the 'Contra Gentes' and +the 'Summa Theologica,' the former being a defense of Christian belief +with special reference to Arabian philosophy, and the latter a masterly +compendium of rational and revealed truth. + +The conception of the 'Summa' was not altogether original. From the +earliest days of the Church, men of genius had insisted on the +reasonableness of Christian belief by showing that, though supernatural +in its origin, it did not conflict with either the facts or the laws of +human knowledge. And as these had found their highest expression in +Greek philosophy, it was natural that this philosophy should serve as a +basis for the elucidation of revealed truth. The early Fathers turned to +Plato, not only because his teaching was so spiritual, but also because +it could be so readily used as a framework for those theological +concepts which Christianity had brought into the world. Thus adopted by +men who were recognized authorities in the Church,--especially men like +Augustine and the Areopagite,--Platonism endured for centuries as the +rational element in dogmatic exposition. + +Scholasticism inaugurated a new era. Patristic erudition had gathered a +wealth of theological knowledge which the Schoolmen fully appreciated. +But the same truths were to receive another setting and be treated by +different methods. Speculation changed its direction, Aristotle taking +the place of his master. The peripatetic system found able exponents in +the earlier Scholastics; but Aquinas surpassed them alike in the mastery +of the philosopher's principles and in his application of these +principles to Christian doctrine. His Commentaries on Aristotle adhere +strictly to the text, dissecting its meaning and throwing into relief +the orderly sequence of ideas. In his other works, he develops the germs +of thought which he had gathered from the Stagirite, and makes them the +groundwork of his philosophical and theological speculations. + +With the subtlety of a metaphysician St. Thomas combined a vast +erudition. Quotations from the Fathers appear on nearly every page of +his writings, serving either as a keynote to the discussion which +follows, or as an occasion for solving objections. Toward St. Augustine +he shows the deepest reverence, though their methods differ so widely, +and his brief but lucid comments throw light on difficult sayings of the +great Doctor. His familiarity with patristic theology is shown +particularly in the 'Catena Aurea,' where he links with passages from +the Sacred Text numerous extracts from the older commentators. + +His respect for these interpretations did not prevent him from making a +thorough search of Scripture itself. With characteristic clearness and +depth he interpreted various books of the Bible, insisting chiefly on +the doctrinal meaning. The best of his work in this line was devoted to +the Pauline Epistles and to the Book of Job; but his mastery of each +text is no less evident where he takes the authority of Scripture as the +starting-point in theological argument, or makes it the crowning +evidence at the close of a philosophical demonstration. + +The materials gathered from Philosophy, Tradition, and Scripture were +the fruit of analysis; the final synthesis had yet to be accomplished. +This was the scope of the 'Summa Theologica,' a work which, though it +was not completed, is the greatest production of Thomas Aquinas. In the +prologue he says:-- + + "Since the teacher of Catholic truth should instruct not only + those who are advanced, but also those who are beginning, it + is our purpose in this work to treat subjects pertaining to + the Christian religion in a manner adapted to the instruction + of beginners. For we have considered that young students + encounter various obstacles in the writings of different + authors: partly because of the multiplication of useless + questions, articles, and arguments; partly because the + essentials of knowledge are dealt with, not in scientific + order, but according as the explanation of books required or + an occasion for disputing offered; partly because the + frequent repetition of the same things begets weariness and + confusion in the hearer's mind. Endeavoring, therefore, to + avoid these defects and others of a like nature, we shall + try, with confidence in the Divine assistance, to treat of + sacred science briefly and clearly, so far as the + subject-matter will allow." + +The work intended for novices in theology, and so unpretentiously +opened, is then portioned out in these words:-- + + "Whereas, the chief aim of this science is to impart a + knowledge of God, not only as existing in Himself, but also + as the origin and end of all things, and especially of + rational creatures, we therefore shall treat first of God; + second, of the rational creature's tendency toward God; + third, of Christ, who as man is the way whereby we approach + unto God. Concerning God, we shall consider (1) those things + which pertain to the Divine Essence; (2) those which regard + the distinction of persons; (3) those which concern the + origin of creatures from Him. As to the Divine Essence we + shall inquire (1) whether God exists; (2) what is, or rather + what is not, the manner of His existence; (3) how He acts + through His knowledge, will, and power. Under the first + heading we shall ask whether God's existence is self-evident, + whether it can be demonstrated, and whether God does exist." + +Similar subdivisions precede each question as it comes up for +discussion, so that the student is enabled to take a comprehensive view, +and perceive the bearing of one problem on another as well as its place +in the wide domain of theology. As a consequence, those who are familiar +with the 'Summa' find in it an object-lesson of breadth, proportion, and +orderly thinking. Its chief merit, however, lies in the fact that it is +the most complete and systematic exhibition of the harmony between +reason and faith. In it, more than in any other of his works, is +displayed the mind of its author. It determines his place in the history +of thought, and closes what may be called the second period in the +development of Christian theology. Scholasticism, the high point of +intellectual activity in the Church, reached its culmination in +Thomas Aquinas. + +His works have been a rich source of information for Catholic +theologians, and his opinions have always commanded respect. The +polemics of the sixteenth century brought about a change in theological +methods, the positive and critical elements becoming more prominent. +Modern rationalism, however, has intensified the discussion of those +fundamental problems which St. Thomas handled so thoroughly. As his +writings furnish both a forcible statement of the Catholic position and +satisfactory replies to many current objections, the Thomistic system +has recently been restored. The "neo-scholastic movement" was initiated +by Leo XIII. in his Encyclical 'Æterni Patris,' dated August 4th, 1879, +and its rapid growth has made Aquinas the model of Catholic thought in +the nineteenth century, as he certainly was in the thirteenth. + +The subjoined extracts show his views on some questions of actual +importance, with regard not alone to mediæval controversies, but to the +problems of the universe, which will press on the minds of men +twenty-five hundred years in the future as they did twenty-five hundred +years in the past. + +[Illustration: Signature: Edw. A. Pace] + + + + +ON THE VALUE OF OUR CONCEPTS OF THE DEITY + + +Part I--From the 'Summa Theologica' + +It is obvious that terms implying negation or extrinsic relation in no +way signify the divine substance, but simply the removal of some +attribute from Him, or His relation with other beings, or rather the +relation of other beings with Him. As to appellations that are absolute +and positive,--such as _good, wise_, and the like,--various opinions +have been entertained. It was held by some that these terms, though used +affirmatively, were in reality devised for the purpose of elimination, +and not with the intent of positive attribution. Hence, they claimed, +when we say that God is a living being, we mean that God's existence is +not that of inanimate things; and so on for other predicates. This was +the position of Rabbi Moses. According to another view these terms are +employed to denote a relation between God and creatures; so that for +instance, when we say, God is good, we mean, God is the cause of +goodness in all things. + +Both interpretations, however, are open to a threefold objection. For, +in the first place, neither can offer any explanation of the fact that +certain terms are applied to the Deity in preference to others. As He is +the source of all good, so He is the cause of all things corporeal; +consequently, if by affirming that God is good we merely imply that He +is the cause of goodness, we might with equal reason assert that He is a +corporeal being. + +Again, the inference from these positions would be that all terms +applied to God have only a secondary import, such, for instance, as we +give to the word _healthy_, as applied to medicine; whereby we signify +that it is productive of health in the organism, while the organism +itself is said, properly and primarily, to be healthy. + +In the third place, these interpretations distort the meaning of those +who employ such terms in regard to the Deity. For, when they declare +that He is the living God, they certainly mean something else than that +He is the cause of our life or that He is different from +inanimate bodies. + +We are obliged, therefore, to take another view, and to affirm that such +terms denote the substantial nature of God, but that, at the same time, +their representative force is deficient. They express the knowledge +which our intellect has of God; and since this knowledge is gotten from +created things, we know Him according to the measure in which creatures +represent Him. Now God, absolutely and in all respects perfect, +possesses every perfection that is found in His creatures. Each created +thing, therefore, inasmuch as it has some perfection, resembles and +manifests the Deity; not as a being of the same species or genus with +itself, but as a supereminent source from which are derived its effects. +They represent Him, in a word, just as the energy of the terrestrial +elements represents the energy of the sun. + +Our manner of speech, therefore, denotes the substance of God, yet +denotes it imperfectly, because creatures are imperfect manifestations +of Him. When we say that God is good, we do not mean that He is the +cause of goodness or that He is not evil. Our meaning is this: What we +call goodness in creatures preexists in God in a far higher way. Whence +it follows, not that God is good because He is the source of good, but +rather, because He is good, He imparts goodness to all things else; as +St. Augustine says, "Inasmuch as He is good, _we are_." + + +HOW CAN THE ABSOLUTE BE A CAUSE? + +From the 'Quæstiones Disputatæ' + +The relations which are spoken of as existing between God and creatures +are not really in Him. A real relation is that which exists between two +things. It is mutual or bilateral then, only when its basis in both +correlates is the same. Such is the case in all quantitive relations. +Quantity being essentially the same in all quanta, gives rise to +relations which are real in both terms--in the part, for instance, and +in the whole, in the unit of measurement and in that which is measured. + +But where a relation originates in causation, as between that which is +active and that which is passive, it does not always concern both terms. +True, that which is acted upon, or set in motion, or produced, must be +related to the source of these modifications, since every effect is +dependent upon its cause. And it is equally true that such causes or +agencies are in some cases related to their effects, namely, when the +production of those effects redounds in some way to the well-being of +the cause itself. This is evidently what happens when like begets like, +and thereby perpetuates, so far as may be, its own species.... There +are cases, nevertheless, in which a thing, without being related, has +other things related to it. The cognizing subject is related to that +which is the object of cognition--to a thing which is outside the mind. +But the thing itself is in no way affected by this cognition, since the +mental process is confined to the mind, and therefore does not bring +about any change in the object. Hence the relation established by the +act of knowing cannot be in that which is known. + +The same holds good of sensation. For though the physical object sets up +changes in the sense-organ, and is related to it as other physical +agencies are related to the things on which they act, still, the +sensation implies, over and above the organic change, a subjective +activity of which the external activity is altogether devoid. Likewise, +we say that a man is at the right of a pillar because, with his power of +locomotion, he can take his stand at the right or the left, before or +behind, above or below. But obviously these relations, vary them as we +will, imply nothing in the stationary pillar, though they are real in +the man who holds or changes his position. Once more, a coin has nothing +to do with the action that gives it its value, since this action is a +human convention; and a man is quite apart from the process which +produces his image. Between a man and his portrait there is a relation, +but this is real in the portrait only. Between the coin and its current +value there is a relation, but this is not real in the coin. + +Now for the application. God's action is not to be understood as going +out from Him and terminating in that which He creates. His action is +Himself; consequently altogether apart from the genus of created being +whereby the creature is related to Him. And again, he gains nothing by +creating, or, as Avicenna puts it, His creative action is in the highest +degree generous. It is also manifest that His action involves no +modification of His being--without changing, He causes the changeable. +Consequently, though creatures are related to Him, as effects to their +cause, He is not really related to them. + + +ON THE PRODUCTION OF LIVING THINGS + +From the 'Quæstiones Disputatæ' + +According to Augustine, the passage "Let the earth bring forth the green +herb" means, not that plants were then actually produced in their proper +nature, but that a germinative power was given the earth to produce +plants by the work of propagation; so that the earth is then said to +have brought forth the green herb and the fruit-yielding tree, inasmuch +as it received the power of producing them. This position is +strengthened by the authority of Scripture (Gen. ii. 4):--"These are the +generations of the heaven and the earth, when they were created, in the +day that the Lord God made the heaven and the earth, and every plant in +the field before it sprang up in the earth, and every herb in the ground +before it grew." From this text we infer, first, that all the works of +the six days were created in the day that God made heaven and earth and +every plant of the field; and consequently that all plants, which are +said to have been created on the third day, were produced at the same +time that God created heaven and earth. The second inference is that +plants were then produced not actually, but only according to causal +virtues, in that the power to produce them was given to the earth. And +this is meant when it is said that He produced every plant of the field +before it actually arose upon the earth by His dispositive action, and +every herb of the earth before it actually grew. Hence, before they came +forth in reality, they were made causally in the earth. + +This view, moreover, is supported by reason. For in those first days God +made the creature either in its cause, or in its origin, or in its +actuality, by the work from which He afterward rested; He nevertheless +works even till now in the administration of things created by the work +of propagation. To this latter process belongs the actual production of +plants from the earth, because all that is needed to bring them forth is +the energy of the heavenly bodies as their father, so to say, and the +power of the earth in place of a mother. Plants, therefore, were +produced on the third day, not actually, but causally. After the six +days, however, they were actually brought forth, according to their +proper species and in their proper nature, by the work of +administration. + + + + +THE ARABIAN NIGHTS + +BY RICHARD GOTTHEIL + + +The Arabian Nights--or, more accurately, 'The Thousand Nights and a +Night' (Alf Leilah wa-leílah)--have gained a popularity in Europe, since +they were first turned into a modern language by Galland in 1704, which +rivals, if it does not exceed, their regard in the East. They opened up +to Europe a wealth of anecdote, a fertility of daring fancy, which has +not ceased to amuse and to interest. It is not their value as literature +which has placed them so high in the popular esteem, both in the East +and in the West; for they are written in a style not a little slovenly, +the same scenes, figures, and expressions are repeated to monotony, and +the poetical extracts which are interwoven are often of very uncertain +excellence. Some of the modern translations--as by Payne and +Burton--have improved upon the original, and have often given it a +literary flavor which it certainly has not in the Arabic. For this +reason, native historians and writers seldom range the stories in their +literary chronicles, or even deign to mention them by name. The 'Nights' +have become popular from the very fact that they affect little; that +they are _contes_ pure and simple, picturing the men and the manners of +a certain time without any attempt to gloss over their faults or to +excuse their foibles: so that "the doings of the ancients become a +lesson to those that follow after, that men look upon the admonitory +events that have happened to others and take warning." All classes of +men are to be found there: Harun al-Rashid and his viziers, as well as +the baker, the cobbler, the merchant, the courtesan. The very coarseness +is a part of the picture; though it strikes us more forcibly than it did +those to whom the tales were told and for whom they were written down. +It is a kaleidoscope of the errors and failings and virtues of the men +whose daily life it records; it is also a picture of the wonderfully +rich fantasy of the Oriental mind. + +[Illustration:] + +In the better texts (_i.e._, of Boulak and Calcutta) there are no less +than about two hundred and fifty stories; some long, others short. There +is no direct order in which they follow one upon the other. The chief +story may at any moment suggest a subordinate one; and as the work +proceeds, the looseness and disconnectedness of the parts increase. The +whole is held together by a "frame"; a device which has passed into the +epic of Ariosto ('Orlando Furioso,' xxviii.), and which is not unlike +that used by Boccaccio ('Decameron') and Chaucer ('Canterbury +Tales'). This "frame" is, in short:--A certain king of India, Shahriyar, +aroused by his wife's infidelity, determines to make an end of all the +women in his kingdom. As often as he takes a wife, on the morrow he +orders her slain. Shahrzad, the daughter of his Vizier, takes upon +herself the task of ridding the king of his evil intent. On the night of +her marriage to the king, she, together with her sister Dunyazad, so +engrosses his mind with her stories that the king seeks their +continuance night after night; thus she wards off her fate for nearly +three years. At the end of that time she has borne the king three male +children; and has, by the sprightliness of her mind, gradually drawn all +the conceit out of him, so that his land is at rest. The tales told +within this frame may be divided into: (_a_) Histories, or long +romances, which are often founded upon historical facts; (_b_) Anecdotes +and short stories, which deal largely with the caliphs of the house of +Abbas; (_c_) Romantic fiction, which, though freely mingled with +supernatural intervention, may also be purely fictitious (_contes +fantastiques_); (_d_) Fables and Apologues; (_e_) Tales, which serve the +teller as the peg upon which to hang and to exhibit his varied learning. +In addition to this "frame," there is a thread running through the +whole; for the grand theme which is played with so many variations is +the picturing of love--in the palace and in the hovel, in the city and +in the desert. The scenes are laid in all the four corners of the globe, +but especially in the two great centres of Muhammadan activity, Bagdad +and Cairo. It is not a matter of chance that Harun al-Rashid is the +Caliph to whom the legends of the 'Nights' have given a crown so very +different from the one which he really wore. Though his character was +often far from that which is pictured here, he was still a patron of art +and of literature. His time was the heyday of Muhammadan splendor; and +his city was the metropolis to which the merchants and the scholars +flocked from the length and breadth of Arab dominion. + +To unravel the literary history of such a collection is difficult +indeed, for it has drawn upon all civilizations and all literatures. But +since Hammer-Purgstall and De Sacy began to unwind the skein, many +additional turns have been given. The idea of the "frame" in general +comes undoubtedly from India; and such stories as 'The Barber's Fifth +Brother,' 'The Prince and the Afrit's Mistress,' have been "traced back +to the Hitopadesa, Panchatantra, and Katha Sarit Sagara." The 'Story of +the King, his Seven Viziers, his Son, and his Favorite,' is but a late +version, through the Pahlavi, of the Indian Sindibad Romance of the time +of Alexander the Great. A number of fables are easily paralleled by +those in the famous collection of Bidpai (see the list in Jacobs's 'The +Fables of Bidpai,' London, 1888, lxviii.). This is probably true of the +whole little collection of beast fables in the One Hundred and +Forty-sixth Night; for such fables are based upon the different +reincarnations of the Buddha and the doctrine of metempsychosis. The +story of Jali'ad and the Vizier Shammas is distinctly reported to have +been translated from the Persian into Arabic. Even Greek sources have +not been left untouched, if the picture of the cannibal in the +adventures of Sindbad the Sailor be really a reflex of the story of +Odysseus and Polyphemus. Arabic historians--such as Tabari, Masudi, +Kazwini, al-Jaúzi--and the Kitab al-Aghani, have furnished innumerable +anecdotes and tales; while such old Arabic poets as Imr al-Kais, +Alkamah, Nabhighah, etc., have contributed occasional verses. + +It is manifest that such a mass of tales and stories was not composed at +any one time, or in any one place. Many must have floated around in +drinking-rooms and in houses of revelry for a long time before they were +put into one collection. Even to this day the story of Ali Baba is +current among the Bedouins in Sinai. Whenever the digest was first made, +it is certain that stories were added at a later time. This is evident +from the divergences seen in the different manuscripts, and by the +additional stories collected by Payne and Burton. But in their present +form, everything points to the final redaction of the 'Nights' in Egypt. +Of all the cities mentioned, Cairo is described the most minutely; the +manners and customs of the _personæ_ are those of Egyptian society--say +from the thirteenth to the sixteenth century. For this we have the +warrant of Mr. Lane, than whom no one is to be heard upon this subject +with greater respect. That such stories as these were popular in Egypt +seems to follow from the fact that the only mention of them is found in +Makrisi's 'Description of Cairo' (1400) and in Abu al-Mahasin, another +historian of Egypt (1470). The collection cannot have been made later +than 1548, the date placed by a reader on the manuscript used by +Galland. But that its date is not much earlier is shown by various +chance references. The mention of coffee (discovered in the fourteenth +century); of cannon (first mentioned in Egypt in 1383); of the wearing +of different-colored garments by Muslims, Jews, and Christians +(instituted in 1301 by Muhammad ibn Kelaün); of the order of +Carandaliyyah (which did not exist until the thirteenth century); of +Sultani peaches (the city Sultaniyyah was founded in the middle of the +thirteenth century)--point to the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries as +the approximate date of the final composition of the 'Nights.' This is +supported by the mention of the office of the Sheikh al-Islam, an office +not created before the year 1453. Additions, such as the 'Story of Abu +Ker and Abu Zer,' were made as late as the sixteenth century; and +tobacco, which is mentioned, was not introduced into Europe until the +year 1560. The thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries are a +period of the revival of letters in Egypt, which might well have induced +some Arab lover of folk-lore to write down a complete copy of these +tales. The Emperor Salah-al-din (1169) is the last historical personage +mentioned, and there is absolutely no trace of Shiite heresy to be found +in the whole collection. This omission would be impossible had they been +gathered up at the time of the heretical Fatimide dynasty (900-1171). + +But it seems equally certain that the 'Nights' did not originate +altogether in the land of the Nile. The figure of Harun al-Rashid, the +many doings in the "City of Peace" (Bagdad), lead us irresistibly over +to the Eastern capital of the Muhammadan Empire. The genii and Afrits +and much of the gorgeous picturing remind one of Persia, or at least of +Persian influence. The Arabs were largely indebted to Persia for +literature of a kind like this; and we know that during the ninth and +tenth centuries many books were translated from the Pahlavi and Syriac. +Thus Ibn al-Mukaffah (760) gave the Arabs the 'Kholanamah,' the +'Amirnamah' (Mirror of Princes), 'Kalilah,' and 'Dimnan.' etc. The +historian Masudi (943) expressly refers the story of the 'Thousand and +One Nights' to a Persian original. "The first who composed such tales +and made use of them were the ancient Persians. The Arabs translated +them, and made others like them." He then continues ('Prairies d'Or,' +ed. De Meynard) and mentions the book 'Hezar Afsane,' which means "a +thousand tales," a book popularly called the 'Thousand and One Nights,' +and containing the story of the king and his vizier, and of his daughter +Shirazaad and her slave-girl Dinazad. Other books of the same kind are +the book of Simas, containing stories of Indian kings and viziers, the +book of Sindibad, etc. (See also 'Hanzæ Ispahanensis Annalium,' ed. +Gottwaldt, 1844, page 41.) A similar statement is made by Abu Yákub +al-Nadim (987) in the 'Fihrist' (ed. Flügel, page 304):--"This book, +'Hezar Afsane,' is said to have been written by the Princess Homai (or +Homain), daughter of Bahman. It comprises a Thousand Nights, but less +than two hundred stories; for a night story often was related in a +number of nights. I have seen it many times complete; but it is in truth +a meagre and uninteresting publication." A translation of the 'Hezar +Afsane' was made into Arabic, and it is again mentioned in the middle of +the twelfth century by Abdulhec al-Házraji; but neither it nor the +original Pahlavi has yet been found. It thus remains a matter of +speculation as to how much of the 'Hezar Afsane' has found its way into +the 'Nights.' It is evident that to it they are indebted for the whole +general idea, for many of the principal names, and probably for the +groundwork of a great many of the stories. The change of the title from +'The Thousand' to 'The Thousand and One' is due to the fact that the +Arabs often expressed "a large number" by this second cipher. But the +'Nights' cannot be a translation from the Persian; for the other two +books mentioned by Masudi are in the Arabic collection. Lane supposes +the relationship to be that of the 'Æneid' to the 'Odyssey.' But it is +probably closer: one fifth of the collection which, according to Payne, +is common to all manuscripts, will doubtless be found to be based on the +Pahlavi original. That the dependence is not greater is evident from the +absence of the great heroes of the Persian Epos--Feridun, Zer, +Isfandyar, etc. The heroes are all Arabs; the life depicted is +wholly Arabic. + +The original Persian 'Nights' must be quite old. Homai, the Persian +Semiramis, is mentioned in the 'Avesta'; and in Firdausi she is the +daughter and the wife of Artaxerxes Longimanus (B.C. 465-425). Her +mother was a Jewess, Shahrazaad, one of the captives brought from +Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar; she afterward delivered her nation from +captivity. Tabari calls Esther, of Old Testament fame, the mother of +Bahman; and Professor de Goeje (de Gids, 1886, iii. 385) has cleverly +identified the Homai of the old 'Nights,' not only with Shahrazaad of +the Arabian, but also with Esther of the Bible. That his argument holds +good is seen from its acceptance by Kuenen ('Hist. Krit. Einleitung,' 1, +2, page 222), August Müller (Deutsche Rundschau, 1887), and Darmesteter +('Actes du Huitième Congrès des Orientalistes,' 1893, ii. 196). + +The best translations of the 'Nights' have been made by Antoine Galland +in French (12 vols., Paris, 1704-1712); by G. Weil in German (4 vols., +1838-1842); and in English by E.W. Lane (3 vols., 1839-1841), John Payne +(13 vols., 1882-1884), and Richard Burton (16 vols., 1885-1888). Lane's +and Burton's translations are enriched by copious notes of great value. + +[Illustration: Signature: Richard Gottheil] + + + +FROM 'THE STORY OF THE CITY OF BRASS' + +Part of Nights 566 and 578: Translation of E.W. Lane + +There was in olden time, and in an ancient age and period, in Damascus +of Syria, a King, one of the Khaleefehs, named Abd-El-Melik, the son of +Marwán; and he was sitting, one day, having with him the great men of +his empire, consisting of Kings and Sultans, when a discussion took +place among them respecting the traditions of former nations. They +called to mind the stories of our lord Suleymán the son of Daood (on +both of whom be peace!) and the dominion and authority which God (whose +name be exalted!) had bestowed upon him, over mankind and the Jinn and +the birds and the wild beasts and other things; and they said, We have +heard from those who were before us, that God (whose perfection be +extolled, and whose name be exalted!) bestowed not upon any one the like +of that which He bestowed upon our lord Suleymán, and that he attained +to that to which none other attained, so that he used to imprison the +Jinn and the Márids and the Devils in bottles of brass, and pour molten +lead over them, and seal this cover over them with his signet.... + +And the Prince of the Faithful, Abd-El-Melik, the son of Marwán, +wondered at these words, and said, Extolled be the perfection of God! +Suleymán was endowed with a mighty dominion!--And among those who were +present in that assembly was En-Fábighah Edh-Dhubyánee; and he said, +Tálib hath spoken truth in that which he hath related, and the proof of +his veracity is the saying of the Wise, the First [thus versified]:-- + + And [consider] Suleymán, when the Deity said to him, Perform + the office of Khaleefeh, and govern with diligence; + And whoso obeyeth thee, honor him for doing so; and whoso + disobeyeth thee, imprison him forever. + +He used to put them into bottles of brass, and to cast them into the +sea. + +And the Prince of the Faithful approved of these words, and said, By +Allah, I desire to see some of these bottles! So Tálib the son of Sahl +replied, O Prince of the Faithful, thou art able to do so and yet remain +in thy country. Send to thy brother Abd-El-Azeez, the son of Marwán, +desiring him to bring them to thee from the Western Country, that he may +write orders to Moosà to journey from the Western Country, to this +mountain which we have mentioned, and to bring thee what thou desirest +of these bottles; for the furthest tract of his province is adjacent to +this mountain.--And the Prince of the Faithful approved of his advice, +and said, O Tálib, thou has spoken truth in that which thou hast said, +and I desire that thou be my messenger to Moosà the son of Nuseyr for +this purpose, and thou shalt have a white ensign, together with what +thou shalt desire of wealth or dignity or other things, and I will be +thy substitute to take care of thy family. To this Tálib replied, Most +willingly, O Prince of the Faithful. And the Khaleefeh said to him, Go, +in dependence on the blessing of God, and his aid.... + +So Tálib went forth on his way to Egypt ... and to Upper Egypt, until +they came to the Emeer Moosà, the son of Nuseyr; and when he knew of his +approach he went forth to him and met him, and rejoiced at his arrival; +and Tálib handed to him the letter. So he took it and read it, and +understood its meaning; and he put it upon his head, saying, I hear and +obey the command of the Prince of the Faithful. He determined to summon +his great men; and they presented themselves; and he inquired of them +respecting that which had been made known to him by the letter; +whereupon they said, O Emeer, if thou desire him who will guide thee to +that place, have recourse to the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad, the son of +Abd-El-Kuddoos Es-Sa-moodee; for he is a knowing man, and hath traveled +much, and he is acquainted with the deserts and wastes and the seas, and +their inhabitants and their wonders, and the countries of their +districts. Have recourse, therefore, to him, and he will direct thee to +the object of thy desire.--Accordingly he gave orders to bring him, and +he came before him; and lo, he was a very old man, whom the vicissitudes +of years and times had rendered decrepit. The Emeer Moosà saluted him, +and said to him, O sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad, our lord the Prince of the +Faithful, Abd-El-Melik the son of Marwán, hath commanded us thus and +thus, and I possess little knowledge of that land, and it hath been told +me that thou art acquainted with that country and the routes. Hast thou +then a wish to accomplish the affair of the Prince of the Faithful?--The +sheykh replied, Know, O Emeer, that this route is difficult, far +extending, with few tracks. The Emeer said to him, How long a period +doth it require? He answered, It is a journey of two years and some +months going, and the like returning; and on the way are difficulties +and horrors, and extraordinary and wonderful things. Moreover, thou art +a warrior for the defense of the faith, and our country is near unto the +enemy; so perhaps the Christians may come forth during our absence; it +is expedient, therefore, that thou leave in thy province one to govern +it.--He replied, Well. And he left his son Hároon as his substitute in +his province, exacted an oath of fidelity to him, and commanded the +troops that they should not oppose him, but obey him in all that he +should order them to do. And they heard his words, and obeyed him. His +son Hároon was of great courage, an illustrious hero, and a bold +champion; and the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad pretended to him that the place +in which were the things that the Prince of the Faithful desired was +four months' journey distant, on the shore of the sea, and that +throughout the whole route were halting-places, adjacent one to another, +and grass and springs. And he said, God will assuredly make this affair +easy to us through the blessing attendant upon thee, O Viceroy of the +Prince of the Faithful. Then the Emeer Moosà said, Knowest thou if any +one of the Kings have trodden this land before us? He answered him, Yes, +O Emeer: this land belonged to the King of Alexandria, Darius the Greek. + + [The cavalcade fare on, and soon reach a first "extraordinary + and wonderful thing,"--the palace-tomb of great "Koosh, the + son of Sheddad," full of impressive mortuary inscriptions + that set the party all a-weeping. Thence--] + +The soldiers proceeded, with the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad before them +showing them the way, until all the first day had passed, and the +second, and the third. They then came to a high hill, at which they +looked, and lo, upon it was a horseman of brass, on the top of whose +spear was a wide and glistening head that almost deprived the beholder +of sight, and on it was inscribed, O thou who comest unto me, if thou +know not the way that leadeth to the City of Brass, rub the hand of the +horseman, and he will turn, and then will stop, and in whatsoever +direction he stoppeth, thither proceed, without fear and without +difficulty; for it will lead thee to the City of Brass.--And when the +Emeer Moosà had rubbed the hand of the horseman, it turned like the +blinding lightning, and faced a different direction from that in which +they were traveling. + +The party therefore turned thither and journeyed on, and it was the +right way. They took that route, and continued their course the same day +and the next night until they had traversed a wide tract of country. And +as they were proceeding, one day, they came to a pillar of black stone, +wherein was a person sunk to his arm-pits, and he had two huge wings, +and four arms; two of them like those of the sons of Adam, and two like +the forelegs of lions, with claws. He had hair upon his head like the +tails of horses, and two eyes like two burning coals, and he had a third +eye, in his forehead, like the eye of the lynx, from which there +appeared sparks of fire. He was black and tall; and he was crying out, +Extolled be the perfection of my Lord, who hath appointed me this severe +affliction and painful torture until the day of resurrection! When the +party beheld him, their reason fled from them, and they were stupefied +at the sight of his form, and retreated in flight; and the Emeer Moosà +said to the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad, What is this? He answered, I know not +what he is. And the Emeer said, Draw near to him, and investigate his +case: perhaps he will discover it, and perhaps thou wilt learn his +history. The sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad replied, May God amend the state of +the Emeer! Verily we fear him.--Fear ye not, rejoined the Emeer; for he +is withheld from injuring you and others by the state in which he is. So +the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad drew near to him, and said to him, O thou +person, what is thy name, and what is thy nature, and what hath placed +thee here in this manner? And he answered him, As to me, I am an 'Efreet +of the Jinn, and my name is Dáhish the son of El-Amash, and I am +restrained here by the majesty, confined by the power, [of God,] +tormented as long as God (to whom be ascribed might and glory!) willeth. +Then the Emeer Moosà said, O sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad, ask him what is the +cause of his confinement in this pillar. He therefore asked respecting +that, and the 'Efreet answered him, Verily my story is wonderful, and +it is this: + + [The Evil Spirit narrates to them his history, being part of + the famous war between Solomon and the Jinn.] + +The party therefore wondered at him, and at the horrible nature of his +form; and the Emeer Moosà said, There is no deity but God! Suleymán was +endowed with a mighty dominion!--And the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad said to +the 'Efreet, O thou, I ask thee concerning a thing of which do thou +inform us. The 'Efreet replied, Ask concerning what thou wilt. And the +sheykh said, Are there in this place any of the 'Efreets confined in +bottles of brass from the time of Suleymán, on whom be peace? He +answered, Yes, in the Sea of El-Karkar, where are a people of the +descendants of Nooh (on whom be peace!), whose country the deluge +reached not, and they are separated there from [the rest of] the sons of +Adam.--And where, said the sheykh, is the way to the City of Brass, and +the place wherein are the bottles? What distance is there between us and +it? The 'Efreet answered, It is near. So the party left him and +proceeded; and there appeared to them a great black object, with two +[seeming] fires corresponding with each other in position, in the +distance, in that black object; whereupon the Emeer Moosà said to the +sheykh, What is this great black object, and what are these two +corresponding fires? The guide answered him, Be rejoiced, O Emeer; for +this is the City of Brass, and this is the appearance of it that I find +described in the Book of Hidden Treasures; that its wall is of black +stones, and it hath two towers of brass of El-Andalus, which the +beholder seeth resembling two corresponding fires; and thence it is +named the City of Brass. They ceased not to proceed until they arrived +at it; and lo, it was lofty, strongly fortified, rising high into the +air, impenetrable: the height of its walls was eighty cubits, and it had +five and twenty gates, none of which would open but by means of some +artifice; and there was not one gate to it that had not, within the +city, one like it: such was the beauty of the construction and +architecture of the city. They stopped before it, and endeavored to +discover one of its gates; but they could not; and the Emeer Moosà said +to the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad, O sheykh, I see not to this city any gate. +The sheykh replied, O Emeer, thus do I find it described in the Book of +Hidden Treasures; that it hath five and twenty gates, and that none of +its gates may be opened but from within the city. And how, said the +Emeer, can we contrive to enter it, and divert ourselves with a view of +its wonders? + +Then the Emeer Moosà ordered one of his young men to mount a camel, and +ride round the city, in the hope that he might discover a trace of a +gate, or a place lower than that to which they were opposite. So one of +his young men mounted, and proceeded around it for two days with their +nights, prosecuting his journey with diligence, and not resting; and +when the third day arrived, he came in sight of his companions, and he +was astounded at that which he beheld of the extent of the city, and its +height. Then he said, O Emeer, the easiest place in it is this place at +which ye have alighted. And thereupon the Emeer Moosà took Tálib the son +of Sahl, and the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad, and they ascended a mountain +opposite the city, and overlooking it; and when they had ascended that +mountain, they saw a city than which eyes had not beheld any greater. +Its pavilions were lofty, and its domes were shining; its mansions were +in good condition, and its rivers were running; its trees were fruitful, +and its gardens bore ripe produce. It was a city with impenetrable +gates, empty, still, without a voice or a cheering inhabitant, but +the owl hooting in its quarters, and birds skimming in circles in +its areas, and the raven croaking in its districts and its great +thoroughfare-streets, and bewailing those who had been in it. The Emeer +Moosà paused, sorrowing for its being devoid of inhabitants, and its +being despoiled of people and dwellers; and he said, Extolled be the +perfection of Him whom ages and times change not, the Creator of the +creation by his power! And while he was extolling the perfection of God, +(to whom be ascribed might and glory!) he happened to look aside, and +lo, there were seven tablets of white marble, appearing from a distance. +So he approached them, and behold, they were sculptured and inscribed; +and he ordered that their writing should be read: therefore the sheykh +Abd-Es-Samad advanced and examined them and read them; and they +contained admonition, and matter for example and restraint, unto those +endowed with faculties of discernment. Upon the first tablet was +inscribed, in the ancient Greek character,-- + + O son of Adam, how heedless art thou of the case of him who + hath been before thee! Thy years and age have diverted thee + from considering him. Knowest thou not that the cup of death + will be filled for thee, and that in a short time thou wilt + drink it? Look then to thyself before entering thy grave. + Where are those who possessed the countries and abased the + servants of God and led armies? Death hath come upon them; + and God is the terminator of delights and the separator of + companions and the devastator of flourishing dwellings; so He + hath transported them from the amplitude of palaces to the + straightness of the graves. + +And in the lower part of the tablet were inscribed these verses:-- + + Where are the Kings and the peoplers of the earth? They have + quitted that which they have built and peopled; + And in the grave they are pledged for their past actions: there + after destruction, they have become putrid corpses. + Where are the troops? They repelled not, nor profited. And + where is that which they collected and hoarded? + The decree of the Lord of the Throne surprised them. Neither + riches nor refuge saved them from it. + +And the Emeer Moosà fainted; his tears ran down upon his cheeks, and he +said, By Allah, indifference to the world is the most appropriate and +the most sure course! Then he caused an inkhorn and a paper to be +brought, and he wrote the inscription of the first tablet; after which +he drew near to the second tablet, and the third, and the fourth; and +having copied what was inscribed on them, he descended from the +mountain; and the world had been pictured before his eyes. + +And when he came back to the troops, they passed the day devising means +of entering the city; and the Emeer Moosà said to his Wezeer, Tálib the +son of Sahl, and to those of his chief officers who were around him, How +shall we contrive to enter the city, that we may see its wonders? +Perhaps we shall find in it something by which we may ingratiate +ourselves with the Prince of the Faithful.--Tálib the son of Sahl +replied, May God continue the prosperity of the Emeer! Let us make a +ladder, and mount upon it, and perhaps we shall gain access to the gate +from within.--And the Emeer said, This is what occurred to my mind, and +excellent is the advice. Then he called to the carpenters and +blacksmiths, and ordered them to make straight some pieces of wood, and +to construct a ladder covered with plates of iron. And they did so, and +made it strong. They employed themselves in constructing it a whole +month, and many men were occupied in making it. And they set it up and +fixed it against the wall, and it proved to be equal to the wall in +height, as though it had been made for it before that day. So the Emeer +Moosà wondered at it, and said, God bless you! It seemeth, from the +excellence of your work, as though ye had adapted it by measurement to +the wall.--He then said to the people, Which of you will ascend this +ladder, and mount upon the wall, and walk along it, and contrive means +of descending into the city, that he may see how the case is, and then +inform us of the mode of opening the gate? And one of them answered, I +will ascend it, O Emeer, and descend and open the gate. The Emeer +therefore replied, Mount. God bless thee!--Accordingly, the man ascended +the ladder until he reached the top of it; when he stood, and fixed his +eyes towards the city, clapped his hands, and cried out with his loudest +voice, saying, Thou art beautiful! Then he cast himself down into the +city, and his flesh became mashed with his bones. So the Emeer Moosà +said, This is the action of the rational. How then will the insane act? +If we do thus with all our companions, there will not remain of them +one; and we shall be unable to accomplish our affair, and the affair of +the Prince of the Faithful. Depart ye; for we have no concern with this +city.--But one of them said, Perhaps another than this may be more +steady than he. And a second ascended, and a third, and a fourth, and a +fifth; and they ceased not to ascend by that ladder to the top of the +wall, one after another, until twelve men of them had gone, acting as +acted the first. Therefore the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad said, There is none +for this affair but myself, and the experienced is not like the +inexperienced. But the Emeer Moosà said to him, Thou shalt not do that, +nor will I allow thee to ascend to the top of this wall; for shouldst +thou die, thou wouldst be the cause of the death of us all, and there +would not remain of us one; since thou art the guide of the party. The +sheykh however replied, Perhaps the object will be accomplished by my +means, through the will of God, whose name be exalted! And thereupon all +the people agreed to his ascending. + +Then the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad arose, and encouraged himself, and having +said, In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful!--he ascended +the ladder, repeating the praises of God (whose name be exalted!) and +reciting the Verses of Safety, until he reached the top of the wall; +when he clapped his hands, and fixed his eyes. The people therefore all +called out to him, and said, O sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad, do it not, and cast +not thyself down! And they said, Verily to God we belong, and verily +unto him we return! If the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad fall, we all +perish!--Then the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad laughed immoderately, and sat a +long time repeating the praises of God, (whose name be exalted!) and +reciting the Verses of Safety; after which he rose with energy, and +called out with his loudest voice, O Emeer, no harm shall befall you; +for God (to whom be ascribed might and glory!) hath averted from me the +effect of the artifice and fraudulence of the Devil, through the +blessing resulting from the utterance of the words, In the name of God, +the Compassionate, the Merciful.--So the Emeer said to him, What hast +thou seen, O sheykh? He answered, When I reached the top of the wall, I +beheld ten damsels, like moons, who made a sign with their hands, as +though they would say, Come to us. And it seemed to me that beneath me +was a sea (or great river) of water; whereupon I desired to cast myself +down, as our companions did: but I beheld them dead; so I withheld +myself from them, and recited some words of the Book of God, (whose name +be exalted!) whereupon God averted from me the influence of those +damsels' artifice, and they departed from me; therefore I cast not +myself down, and God repelled from me the effect of their artifice and +enchantment. There is no doubt that this is an enchantment and an +artifice which the people of this city contrived in order to repel from +it every one who should desire to look down upon it, and wish to obtain +access to it; and these our companions are laid dead. + +He then walked along the wall till he came to the two towers of brass, +when he saw that they had two gates of gold, without locks upon them, or +any sign of the means of opening them. Therefore the sheykh paused as +long as God willed, and looking attentively, he saw in the middle of one +of the gates a figure of a horseman of brass, having one hand extended, +as though he were pointing with it, and on it was an inscription, which +the sheykh read, and lo, it contained these words:--Turn the pin that is +in the middle of the front of the horseman's body twelve times, and then +the gate will open. So he examined the horseman, and in the middle of +the front of his body was a pin, strong, firm, well fixed; and he turned +it twelve times; whereupon the gate opened immediately, with a noise +like thunder; and the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad entered. He was a learned +man, acquainted with all languages and characters. And he walked on +until he entered a long passage, whence he descended some steps, and he +found a place with handsome wooden benches, on which were people dead, +and over their heads were elegant shields, and keen swords, and strung +bows, and notched arrows. And behind the [next] gate were a bar of iron, +and barricades of wood, and locks of delicate fabric, and strong +apparatus. Upon this, the sheykh said within himself, Perhaps the keys +are with these people. Then he looked, and lo, there was a sheykh who +appeared to be the oldest of them, and he was upon a high wooden bench +among the dead men. So the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad said, May not the keys +of the city be with this sheykh? Perhaps he was the gate-keeper of the +city, and these were under his authority. He therefore drew near to him, +and lifted up his garments, and lo, the keys were hung to his waist. At +the sight of them, the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad rejoiced exceedingly; his +reason almost fled from him in consequence of his joy: and he took the +keys, approached the gate, opened the locks, and pulled the gate and the +barricades and other apparatus which opened, and the gate also opened, +with a noise like thunder, by reason of its greatness and terribleness, +and the enormousness of its apparatus. Upon this, the sheykh exclaimed, +God is most great!--and the people made the same exclamation with him, +rejoicing at the event. The Emeer Moosà also rejoiced at the safety of +the sheykh 'Abd-Es-Samad, and at the opening of the gate of the city; +the people thanked the sheykh for that which he had done, and all the +troops hastened to enter the gate. But the Emeer Moosà cried out to +them, saying to them, O people, if all of us enter, we shall not be +secure from some accident that may happen. Half shall enter, and half +shall remain behind. + +The Emeer Moosà then entered the gate, and with him half of the people, +who bore their weapons of war. And the party saw their companions lying +dead: so they buried them. They saw also the gate-keepers and servants +and chamberlains and lieutenants lying upon beds of silk, all of them +dead. And they entered the market of the city, and beheld a great +market, with lofty buildings, none of which projected beyond another: +the shops were open, and the scales hung up, and the utensils of brass +ranged in order, and the kháns were full of all kinds of goods. And they +saw the merchants dead in their shops: their skins were dried, and their +bones were carious, and they had become examples to him who would be +admonished. They saw likewise four markets of particular shops filled +with wealth. And they left this place, and passed on to the silk-market, +in which were silks and brocades interwoven with red gold and white +silver upon various colours, and the owners were dead, lying upon skins, +and appearing almost as though they would speak. Leaving these, they +went on to the market of jewels and pearls and jacinths; and they left +it, and passed on to the market of the money-changers, whom they found +dead, with varieties of silks beneath them, and their shops were filled +with gold and silver. These they left, and they proceeded to the market +of the perfumers; and lo, their shops were filled with varieties of +perfumes, and bags of musk, and ambergris, and aloes-wood, and nedd, and +camphor, and other things; and the owners were all dead, not having with +them any food. And when they went forth from the market of the +perfumers, they found near unto it a palace, decorated, and strongly +constructed; and they entered it, and found banners unfurled, and drawn +swords, and strung bows, and shields hung up by chains of gold and +silver, and helmets gilded with red gold. And in the passages of that +palace were benches of ivory, ornamented with plates of brilliant gold, +and with silk, on which were men whose skins had dried upon the bones: +the ignorant would imagine them to be sleeping; but, from the want of +food, they had died, and tasted mortality. Upon this, the Emeer Moosà +paused, extolling the perfection of God (whose name be exalted!) and his +holiness, and contemplating the beauty of that palace. + + [They find the palace a marvel of splendor, but as awfully + silent and mausoleum-like as the rest of the city; and soon + reach a magnificent hall in which lies the dead body of + "Jedmur, the Daughter of the King of the Amalekites," + magnificently laid in state, and magically preserved and + protected. Tálib unwisely and covetously attempts to rob the + corpse of jewels; and is instantly beheaded by its enchanted + guards. The Emeer Moosà and the sage 'Abd-Es-Samad, however, + leave the place in safety, return to Upper Egypt and Syria by + way of the Country of the Blacks, succeed in securing twelve + of the wonderful bottles containing Jinn,--and the tale + concludes with the Emeer Moosà's resignation of his throne + that he may die in Jerusalem, so profoundly has he been + affected by the adventure.] + + +FROM 'THE HISTORY OF KING OMAR BEN ENNUMAN, AND +HIS SONS SHERKAN AND ZOULMEKAN' + +Nights 15, 16, 17, and 18: Translation of Professor John Payne + +THE MEETING OF PRINCE SHERKAN AND PRINCESS ABRIZEH + +There reigned once in the City of Peace [Bagdad], before the Khalifate +of Abdulmelik ben Merwan, a king called Omar ben Ennuman, who was of the +mighty giants, and had subdued the kings of Persia and the emperors of +the East, for none could warm himself at his fire nor cope with him in +battle; and when he was angry there came sparks out of his nostrils. He +had gotten him dominion over all countries, and God had subjected unto +him all creatures; his commands were obeyed in all the great cities, and +his armies penetrated the most distant lands: the East and West came +under his rule, with the regions between them, Hind and Sind and China +and Hejaz and Yemen and the islands of India and China, Syria and +Mesopotamia and the lands of the blacks and the islands of the ocean, +and all the famous rivers of the earth, Jaxartes and Bactrus and Nile +and Euphrates. He sent his ambassadors to the farthest parts of the +earth to fetch him true report, and they returned with tidings of +justice and peace, bringing him assurance of loyalty and obedience, and +invocations of blessings on his head; for he was a right noble king, and +there came to him gifts and tribute from all parts of the world. He had +a son called Sherkan, who was one of the prodigies of the age and the +likest of all men to his father, who loved him with an exceeding love +and had appointed him to be king after him. The prince grew up till he +reached man's estate, and was twenty years old, and God subjected all +men to him, for he was gifted with great might and prowess in battle, +humbling the champions and destroying all who made head against him. So, +before long, this Sherkan became famous in all quarters of the world, +and his father rejoiced in him; and his might waxed till he passed all +bounds, and magnified himself, taking by storm the citadels and +strong places. + + [The Prince being sent to assist King Afridoun, of the + Greeks, against an enemy, is intrusted with an army of ten + thousand soldiers, and leaves Bagdad in military state.] + +Then they loaded the beasts and beat the drums and blew the clarions and +unfurled the banners and the standards, whilst Sherkan mounted, with the +Vizier Dendan by his side, and the standards waving over them; and the +army set out and fared on with the [Greek] ambassadors in the van till +the day departed and the night came, when they halted and encamped for +the night. On the morrow, as soon as God brought in the day, they took +horse and continued their march, nor did they cease to press onward, +guided by the ambassadors, for the space of twenty days. On the +twenty-first day, at nightfall, they came to a wide and fertile valley +whose sides were thickly wooded and covered with grass, and there +Sherkan called a three-days' halt. So they dismounted and pitched their +tents, dispersing right and left in the valley, whilst the Vizier Dendan +and the ambassadors alighted in the midst. + +As for Sherkan, when he had seen the tents pitched and the troops +dispersed on either side, and had commanded his officers and attendants +to camp beside the Vizier Dendan, he gave reins to his horse, being +minded to explore the valley, and himself to mount guard over the army, +having regard to his father's injunctions and to the fact that they had +reached the frontier of the Land of Roum and were now in the enemy's +country. So he rode on alone, along the valley, till a fourth part of +the night was past, when he grew weary and sleep overcame him so that he +could no longer spur his horse. Now he was used to sleep on horseback; +so when drowsiness got the better of him, he fell asleep, and the horse +paced on with him half the night and entered a forest: but Sherkan awoke +not till the steed smote the earth with his hoof. Then he started from +sleep and found himself among trees: and the moon arose and lighted the +two horizons. He was troubled at finding himself alone in this place, +and spoke the words which whoso says shall never be confounded--that is +to say, "There is no power and no virtue but in GOD, the most High, the +Supreme!" But as he rode on, in fear of the wild beasts, behold the +trees thinned out, and the moon shone out upon a meadow as it were one +of the meads of paradise, and he heard therein the noise of talk and +pleasant laughter, such as ravishes the wit of men. So King Sherkan +dismounted, and tying his horse to a tree, fared on a little further, +till he espied a stream of running water, and heard a woman talking and +saying in Arabic, "By the virtue of the Messiah, this is not handsome of +you! But whoso speaks the word I will throw her down and bind her with +her girdle!" He followed in the direction of the voice, and saw gazelles +frisking and wild cattle pasturing, and birds in their various voices +expressing joy and gladness; and the earth was embroidered with all +manner flowers and green herbs, even as says of it the poet, in the +following verses:-- + + Earth has no fairer sight to show than this its + blossom-time, With all the gently running streams + that wander o'er its face, + It is indeed the handiwork of God Omnipotent, The + Lord of every noble gift, and Giver of all grace! + +Midmost the meadow stood a monastery, and within the inclosure a citadel +that rose high into the air in the light of the moon. The stream passed +through the midst of the monastery; and therenigh sat ten damsels like +moons, high-bosomed maids clad in dresses and ornaments that dazzled the +eyes, as says of them the poet:-- + + The meadow glitters with the troops Of lovely ones + that wander there; + Its grace and beauty doubled are By these that are + so passing fair; + Virgins, that with their swimming gait, The hearts of + all that see ensnare, + Along whose necks, like trails of grapes, Stream down + the tresses of their hair; + Proudly they walk, with eyes that dart The shafts and + arrows of despair, + And all the champions of the world Are slain by + their seductive air. + +Sherkan looked at the ten girls, and saw in their midst a lady like the +moon at its full, with ringleted and shining forehead, great black eyes +and curling brow-locks, perfect in person and attributes, as says +the poet:-- + + Her beauty beamed on me with glances wonder-bright: The + slender Syrian spears are not so straight and slight: + She laid her veil aside, and, lo, her cheeks rose-red! All manner + of loveliness was in their sweetest sight + The locks that o'er her brow fell down, were like the night, + From out of which there shines a morning of delight. + +Then Sherkan heard her say to the girls, "Come on, that I may wrestle +with you, ere the moon set and the dawn come." So they came up to her, +one after another, and she overthrew them, one by one, and bound their +hands behind them, with their girdles. When she had thrown them all, +there turned to her an old woman who was before her, and said, as if she +were wroth with her, "O shameless! dost thou glory in overthrowing these +girls? Behold, I am an old woman, yet have I thrown them forty times! So +what hast thou to boast of? But if thou have strength to wrestle with +me, stand up that I may grip thee, and put thy head between thy feet." +The young lady smiled at her words, although her heart was full of anger +against her, and said, "O my lady Dhat ed Dewahi, wilt indeed wrestle +with me--or dost thou jest with me?" "I mean to wrestle with thee in +very deed," replied she. "Stand up to me then," said the damsel, "if +thou have strength to do so!" When the old woman heard this she was sore +enraged, and her hair stood on end like that of a hedgehog. Then she +sprang up, whilst the damsel confronted her ... and they took hold of +one another, whilst Sherkan raised his eyes to heaven and prayed to God +that the damsel might conquer the old hag. Presently ... the old woman +strove to free herself, and in the struggle wriggled out of the girl's +hands and fell on her back ... and behold the young lady ... throwing +over her a veil of fine silk, helped her to dress herself, making +excuses to her and saying, "O my lady Dhat ed Dewahi, I did not mean to +throw thee so roughly, but thou wriggledst out of my hands; so praised +be God for safety." She returned her no answer, but rose in her +confusion and walked away out of sight, leaving the young lady standing +alone, by the other girls thrown down and bound. + +Then said Sherkan, "To every fortune there is a cause. Sleep fell not on +me, nor did the steed bear me hither but for my good fortune; for of a +surety this damsel and what is with her shall be my prize." So he turned +back and mounted, and drew his scimitar; then he gave his horse the spur +and he started off with him like an arrow from a bow, whilst he +brandished his naked blade and cried out, "God is most great!" When the +damsel saw him she sprang to her feet, and running to the bank of the +river, which was there six cubits wide, made a spring and landed on the +other side, where she turned, and standing cried out in a loud voice, +"Who art thou, sirrah, that breakest in on our pasture as if thou wert +charging an army? Whence comest thou and whither art thou bound? Speak +the truth and it shall profit thee, and do not lie, for lying is of the +losel's fashion. Doubtless thou hast strayed this night from thy road, +that thou hast happened on this place. So tell me what thou seekest: if +thou wouldst have us set thee in the right road, we will do so; or if +thou seek help we will help thee." + +When Sherkan heard her words he replied, "I am a stranger of the +Muslims, who am come out by myself in quest of booty, and I have found +no fairer purchase this moonlit night than these ten damsels; so I will +take them and rejoin my comrades with them." Quoth she, "I would have +thee to know that thou hast not yet come at the booty; and as for these +ten damsels, by Allah, they are no purchase for thee! Indeed the fairest +purchase thou canst look for is to win free of this place: for thou art +in a mead, where, if we gave one cry, there would be with us anon four +thousand knights. Did I not tell thee that lying is shameful?" And he +said, "The fortunate man is he to whom God sufficeth, and who hath no +need of other than him." "By the virtue of the Messiah," replied she, +"did I not fear to have thy death at my hand, I would give a cry that +would fill the meadow on thee, with horse and foot! but I have pity on +the stranger; so, if thou seek booty, I require of thee that thou +dismount from thy horse, and swear to me by thy faith that thou wilt +not approach me with aught of arms, and we will wrestle--I and thou. If +thou throw me, lay me on thy horse and take all of us to thy booty; and +if I throw thee, thou shalt be at my commandment. Swear this to me; for +I fear thy perfidy, since experience has it that as long as perfidy is +in men's natures, to trust in every one is weakness. But if thou wilt +swear I will come over to thee." Quoth Sherkan, "Impose on me whatever +oath thou deemest binding, and I will swear not to draw near thee until +thou hast made thy preparations, and sayest 'Come wrestle with me.' If +thou throw me I have wealth wherewith to ransom myself, and if I throw +thee I shall get fine purchase." Then said she, "Swear to me by Him who +hath lodged the soul in the body and given laws to mankind that thou +wilt not hurt me with aught of violence save in the way of +wrestling--else mayest thou die out of the pale of Islam." "By Allah," +exclaimed Sherkan, "if a Cadi should swear me, though he were Cadi of +the Cadis, he would not impose on me the like of this oath!" Then he +took the oath she required, and tied his horse to a tree, sunken in the +sea of reverie, and saying in himself, "Glory to Him who fashioned her!" +Then he girt himself, and made ready for wrestling, and said to her, +"Cross the stream to me." Quoth she, "It is not for me to come to thee; +if thou wilt, do thou cross over to me." "I cannot do that," replied he; +and she said, "O boy! I will come to thee." So she gathered her skirts, +and making a spring landed on the other side of the river by him; +whereupon he drew near to her, wondering at her beauty and grace, and +saw a form that the hand of Omnipotence had turned with the leaves of +Jinn, and which had been fostered by divine solicitude, a form on which +the zephyrs of fair fortune had blown, and over whose creation favorable +planets had presided. Then she called out to him saying, "O Muslim, come +and wrestle before the daybreak!" and tucked up her sleeves, showing a +fore-arm like fresh curd; the whole place was lighted up by its +whiteness and Sherkan was dazzled by it. Then he bent forward and +clapped his hands, and she did the like, and they took hold and gripped +each other. He laid his hands on her slender waist ... and fell a +trembling like the Persian reed in the hurricane. So she lifted him up, +and throwing him to the ground sat down on his breast. Then she said to +him, "O Muslim, it is lawful among you to kill Christians: what sayest +thou to my killing thee?" "O my lady," replied he, "as for killing me, +it is unlawful; for our Prophet (whom God bless and preserve!) hath +forbidden the slaying of women and children and old men and monks." +"Since this was revealed unto your prophet," rejoined she, "it behooves +us to be even with him therein; so rise: I give thee thy life, for +beneficence is not lost upon men." Then she got up, and he rose and +brushed the earth from his head, and she said to him, "Be not abashed; +but indeed one who enters the land of the Greeks in quest of booty and +to succor kings against kings, how comes it that there is no strength in +him to defend himself against a woman?" "It was not lack of strength in +me," replied he, "nor was it thy strength that overthrew me, but thy +beauty; so if thou wilt, grant me another bout, it will be of thy +favor." She laughed and said, "I grant thee this: but these damsels have +been long bound, and their arms and shoulders are weary, and it were +fitting I should loose them, since this next bout may peradventure be a +long one." Then she went up to the girls, and unbinding them said to +them in the Greek tongue, "Go and put yourselves in safety, till I have +brought to naught this Muslim." So they went away, whilst Sherkan looked +at them, and they gazed at him and the young lady. Then he and she drew +near again and set to.... But [again by admiration of her beauty] his +strength failed him, and she feeling this, lifted him in her hands +swifter than the blinding lightning and threw him to the ground. He fell +on his back, and she said to him, "Rise: I give thee thy life a second +time. I spared thee before for the sake of thy prophet, for that he +forbade the killing of women, and I do so this second time because of +thy weakness and tender age, and strangerhood: but I charge thee, if +there be in the army sent by King Omar ben Ennuman a stronger than thou, +send him hither and tell him of me." "By Allah, O my lady," replied +Sherkan (and indeed he was greatly incensed against her), "it was not by +thy strength that thou overthrewest me, but by [thy beauty], so that nor +wit nor foresight was left in me. But now, if thou have a mind to try +another fall with me, with my wits about me, I have a right to this one +bout more by the rules of the game, for my presence of mind has now +returned to me." "Hast thou not had enough of wrestling, O conquered +one?" rejoined she. "However, come, if thou wilt: but know that this +bout must be the last." Then they took hold of each other, and he set to +in earnest and warded himself against being thrown down: so they +wrestled awhile and the damsel found in him strength such as she had not +before observed, and said to him, "O Muslim, thou art on thy guard!" +"Yes," replied he, "thou knowest that there remaineth but this bout, and +after each of us will go his own way." She laughed and he laughed too: +then she seized the opportunity to bore in upon him unawares, and +gripping him by the thigh, threw him to the ground, so that he fell on +his back. She laughed at him and said, "Thou art surely an eater of +bran: for thou art like a Bedouin bonnet that falls off at a touch, or a +child's toy that a puff of air overturns. Out on thee, thou poor +creature! Go back to the army of the Muslims and send us other than +thyself, for thou lackest thews; and cry as among the Arabs and Persians +and Turks and Medes, 'Whoso has might in him let him come to us!'" Then +she made a spring and landed on the other side of the stream and said to +Sherkan laughing, "It goes to my heart to part with thee! get thee to +thy friends, O my lord, before the morning, lest the knights come upon +thee and take thee on the points of their lances. Thou hast not strength +enough to defend thee against women; so how couldst thou make head +against men and cavaliers!" And she turned to go back to the monastery. +Sherkan was confounded, and called out to her, saying "O my lady! Wilt +thou go away, and leave the wretched stranger, the broken-hearted slave +of love?" So she turned to him laughing, and said, "What wouldst thou? I +grant thy prayer." "Have I set foot in thy country and tasted the +sweetness of thy favors," replied Sherkan, "and shall I return without +eating of thy victual and tasting of thy hospitality? Indeed, I am +become one of thy servitors." Quoth she, "None but the base refuses +hospitality: on my head and eyes be it! Do me the favor to mount and +ride along the stream, abreast of me, for thou art my guest." At this +Sherkan rejoiced, and hastening back to his horse, mounted and rode +along the river-bank, keeping abreast of her, till he came to a +drawbridge that hung by pulleys and chains of steel, made fast with +hooks and padlocks. Here stood the ten damsels awaiting the lady, who +spoke to one of them in the Greek tongue and said to her, "Go to him; +take his horse's rein and bring him over into the monastery."... They +went on till they reached a vaulted gate, arched over with marble. This +she opened, and entered with Sherkan into a long vestibule, vaulted with +ten arches, from each of which hung a lamp of crystal, shining like the +rays of the sun. The damsels met her at the end of the vestibule, +bearing perfumed flambeaux and having on their heads kerchiefs +embroidered with all manner of jewels, and went on before her, till they +came to the inward of the monastery, where Sherkan saw couches set up +all around, facing one another and overhung with curtains spangled with +gold. The floor was paved with all kinds of variegated marbles, and in +the midst was a basin of water with four and twenty spouts of gold +around it from which issued water like liquid silver; whilst at the +upper end stood a throne covered with silks of royal purple. Then said +the damsel, "O my lord, mount this throne." So he seated himself on it, +and she withdrew: and when she had been absent awhile, he asked the +servants of her, and they said, "She hath gone to her sleeping-chamber; +but we will serve thee as thou shalt order." So they set before him rare +meats, and he ate till he was satisfied, when they brought him a basin +of gold and an ewer of silver and he washed his hands. Then his mind +reverted to his troops, and he was troubled, knowing not what had +befallen them in his absence and thinking how he had forgotten his +father's injunctions, so that he abode, oppressed with anxiety and +repenting of what he had done, till the dawn broke and the day appeared, +when he lamented and sighed and became drowned in the sea of melancholy, +repeating the following verses:-- + + "I lack not of prudence, and yet in this case, I've been fooled; + so what shift shall avail unto me? + If any could ease me of love and its stress, Of my might and + my virtue I'd set myself free. + But alas! my heart's lost in maze of desire, And no helper save + God in my strait can I see. + +Hardly had he finished when up came more than twenty damsels like moons, +encompassing the young lady, who appeared among them as the full moon +among stars. She was clad in royal brocade, and girt with a woven girdle +set with various kinds of jewels that straitly clasped her waist.... On +her head she wore a network of pearls, gemmed with various kinds of +jewels, and she moved with a coquettish, swimming gait, swaying +wonder-gracefully, whilst the damsels held up her skirts.... She fixed +her eyes on him, and considered him awhile, till she was assured of him, +when she came up to him and said, "Indeed the place is honored and +illumined with thy presence, O Sherkan! How didst thou pass the night, +O hero, after we went away and left thee? Verily, lying is a defect and +a reproach in kings; especially in great kings: and thou art Sherkan, +son of King Omar ben Ennuman; so henceforth tell me naught but truth, +and strive not to keep the secret of thy condition, for falsehood +engenders hatred and enmity. The arrow of destiny hath fallen upon thee, +and it behooves thee to show resignation and submission." When Sherkan +heard what she said, he saw nothing for it but to tell her the truth: so +he said, "I am indeed Sherkan, son of Omar ben Ennuman; whom fortune +hath afflicted and cast into this place: so now do whatsoever +thou wilt." + + + +FROM 'SINDBAD THE SEAMAN AND SINDBAD THE LANDSMAN' + +Portions of Nights 536 to 542, presenting the Introduction and the first +of the seven 'Voyages': Translation of Captain Sir Richard Burton. + +There lived in the city of Bagdad, during the reign of the Commander of +the Faithful, Harun al-Rashid, a man named Sindbad the Hammal [Porter], +one in poor case, who bore burdens on his head for hire. It happened to +him one day of great heat that whilst he was carrying a heavy load, he +became exceeding weary and sweated profusely; the heat and the weight +alike oppressing him. Presently, as he was passing the gate of a +merchant's house, before which the ground was swept and watered, and +where the air was temperate, he sighted a broad bench beside the door; +so he set his load thereon, to take rest and smell the air.-- + +And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted +say. + +NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVENTH NIGHT, + +She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the Hammal +set his load upon the bench to take rest and smell the air, there came +out upon him from the court-door a pleasant breeze and a delicious +fragrance. He sat down on the edge of the bench, and at once heard from +within the melodious sound of lutes and other stringed instruments, and +mirth-exciting voices singing and reciting, together with the song of +birds warbling and glorifying Almighty Allah in various tunes and +tongues; turtles, mockingbirds, merles, nightingales, cushats, and +stone-curlews: whereat he marveled in himself and was moved to mighty +joy and solace. Then he went up to the gate and saw within a great +flower-garden wherein were pages and black slaves, and such a train of +servants and attendants and so forth as is found only with Kings and +Sultans; and his nostrils were greeted with the savory odors of all +manner meats rich and delicate, and delicious and generous wines. So he +raised his eyes heavenwards and said, "Glory to Thee, O Lord, O Creator +and Provider, who providest whomso Thou wilt without count or stint! O +mine Holy One, I cry Thee pardon for all sins and turn to Thee repenting +of all offenses! O Lord, there is no gainsaying Thee in Thine ordinance +and Thy dominion, neither wilt Thou be questioned of that Thou dost, for +Thou indeed over all things art Almighty! Extolled be Thy perfection: +whom Thou wilt Thou makest poor and whom Thou wilt Thou makest rich! +Whom Thou wilt Thou exaltest and whom Thou wilt Thou abasest, and there +is no god but Thou! How mighty is Thy majesty and how enduring Thy +dominion and how excellent Thy government! Verily, Thou favorest whom +Thou wilt of Thy servants, whereby the owner of this place abideth in +all joyance of life and delighteth himself with pleasant scents and +delicious meats and exquisite wines of all kinds. For indeed Thou +appointest unto Thy creatures that which Thou wilt and that which Thou +hast foreordained unto them; wherefore are some weary and others are at +rest, and some enjoy fair fortune and affluence whilst others suffer the +extreme of travail and misery, even as I do." And he fell to reciting: + + How many by my labors, that evermore endure, All goods of + life enjoy and in cooly shade recline? + Each morn that dawns I wake in travail and in woe, And + strange is my condition and my burden gars me pine: + Many others are in luck and from miseries are free, And Fortune + never loads them with loads the like o' mine: + They live their happy days in all solace and delight; Eat, drink, + and dwell in honor 'mid the noble and the digne: + All living things were made of a little drop of sperm, Thine + origin is mine and my provenance is thine; + Yet the difference and distance 'twixt the twain of us are far As + the difference of savor 'twixt vinegar and wine: + But at Thee, O God All-wise! I venture not to rail Whose ordinance + is just and whose justice cannot fail. + +When Sindbad the Porter had made an end of reciting his verses, he bore +up his burden and was about to fare on, when there came forth to him +from the gate a little foot-page, fair of face and shapely of shape and +dainty of dress, who caught him by the hand, saying, "Come in and speak +with my lord, for he calleth for thee." The Porter would have excused +himself to the page, but the lad would take no refusal; so he left his +load with the doorkeeper in the vestibule and followed the boy into the +house, which he found to be a goodly mansion, radiant and full of +majesty, till he brought him to a grand sitting-room wherein he saw a +company of nobles and great lords, seated at tables garnished with all +manner of flowers and sweet-scented herbs, besides great plenty of +dainty viands and fruits dried and fresh and confections and wines of +the choicest vintages. There also were instruments of music and mirth, +and lovely slave-girls playing and singing. All the company was ranged +according to rank, and in the highest place sat a man of worshipful and +noble aspect, whose beard-sides hoariness had stricken; and he was +stately of stature and fair of favor, agreeable of aspect and full of +gravity and dignity and majesty. So Sindbad the Porter was confounded at +that which he beheld, and said in himself, "By Allah, this must be +either a piece of Paradise or some king's palace!" Then he saluted the +company with much respect, praying for their prosperity; and kissing +ground before them, stood with his head bowed down in humble attitude.-- + +And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted +say. + +NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHTH NIGHT, + + +FIRST VOYAGE OF SINDBAD HIGHT THE SEAMAN. + +My father was a merchant, one of the notables of my native place, a +moneyed man and ample of means, who died whilst I was yet a child, +leaving me much wealth in money and lands, and farmhouses. When I grew +up I laid hands on the whole and ate of the best and drank freely and +wore rich clothes and lived lavishly, companioning and consorting with +youths of my own age, and considering that this course of life would +continue for ever and ken no change. Thus did I for a long time, but at +last I awoke from my heedlessness, and returning to my senses, I found +my wealth had become unwealth and my condition ill-conditioned, and all +I once hent had left my hand. And recovering my reason I was stricken +with dismay and confusion, and bethought me of a saying of our lord +Solomon, son of David, (upon whom be Peace!) which I had heard aforetime +from my father, "Three things are better than other three: the day of +death is better than the day of birth, a live dog is better than a dead +lion, and the grave is better than want." Then I got together my remains +of estates and property and sold all, even my clothes, for three +thousand dirhams, with which I resolved to travel to foreign parts, +remembering the saying of the poet:-- + + By means of toil man shall scale the height; Who to fame + aspires mustn't sleep o' night: + Who seeketh pearl in the deep must dive, Winning weal and + wealth by his main and might: + And who seeketh Fame without toil and strife Th' impossible + seeketh and wasteth life. + +So taking heart I bought me goods, merchandise, and all needed for a +voyage, and, impatient to be at sea, I embarked, with a company of +merchants, on board a ship bound for Bassorah. There we again embarked +and sailed many days and nights, and we passed from isle to isle and sea +to sea and shore to shore, buying and selling and bartering everywhere +the ship touched, and continued our course till we came to an island as +it were a garth of the garden of Paradise. Here the captain cast anchor, +and making fast to the shore, put out the landing planks. So all on +board landed and made furnaces, and lighting fires therein, busied +themselves in various ways, some cooking and some washing, whilst other +some walked about the island for solace, and the crew fell to eating and +drinking and playing and sporting. I was one of the walkers; but as we +were thus engaged, behold the master, who was standing on the gunwale, +cried out to us at the top of his voice, saying, "Ho there! passengers, +run for your lives and hasten back to the ship and leave your gear and +save yourselves from destruction, Allah preserve you! For this island +whereon ye stand is no true island, but a great fish stationary +a-middlemost of the sea, whereon the sand hath settled and trees have +sprung up of old time, so that it is become like unto an island; but +when ye lighted fires on it, it felt the heat and moved; and in a moment +it will sink with you into the sea and ye will all be drowned. So leave +your gear and seek your safety ere ye die."-- + +And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted +say. + + +NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH NIGHT, + +She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the +ship-master cried to the passengers, "Leave your gear and seek safety +ere ye die," all who heard him left gear and goods, clothes washed and +unwashed, fire-pots and brass cooking-pots, and fled back to the ship +for their lives, and some reached it while others (among whom was I) did +not, for suddenly the island shook and sank into the abysses of the +deep, with all that were thereon, and the dashing sea surged over it +with clashing waves. I sank with the others down, down into the deep, +but Almighty Allah preserved me from drowning and threw in my way a +great wooden tub of those that had served the ship's company for +tubbing. I gripped it for the sweetness of life, and bestriding it like +one riding, paddled with my feet like oars, whilst the waves tossed me +as in sport right and left. Meanwhile, the captain made sail and +departed with those who had reached the ship, regardless of the drowning +and the drowned; and I ceased not following the vessel with my eyes, +till she was hid from sight and I made sure of death. Darkness closed in +upon me while in this plight, and the winds and waves bore me on all +that night and the next day, till the tub brought to with me under the +lee of a lofty island, with trees overhanging the tide. I caught hold of +a branch and by its aid clambered up on to the land, after coming nigh +upon death; but when I reached the shore, I found my legs cramped and +numbed, and my feet bore traces of the nibbling of fish upon their +soles; withal I had felt nothing for excess of anguish and fatigue. I +threw myself down on the island-ground, like a dead man, and drowned in +desolation swooned away, nor did I return to my senses till next +morning, when the sun rose and revived me. But I found my feet swollen, +so made shift to move by shuffling on my breech and crawling on my +knees, for in that island were found store of fruit and springs of sweet +water. I ate of the fruits, which strengthened me; and thus I abode days +and nights, till my life seemed to return and my spirits began to revive +and I was better able to move about. So after due consideration I fell +to exploring the island and diverting myself with gazing upon all things +that Allah Almighty had created there; and rested under the trees, from +one of which I cut me a staff to lean upon. One day as I walked along +the marge, I caught sight of some object in the distance, and thought +it a wild beast or one of the monster creatures of the sea; but as I +drew near it, looking hard the while, I saw that it was a noble mare, +tethered on the beach. Presently I went up to her, but she cried out +against me with a great cry, so that I trembled for fear and turned to +go away, when there came forth a man from under the earth and followed +me, crying out and saying, "Who and whence art thou, and what caused +thee to come hither?" "O my lord," answered I, "I am in very sooth a +waif, a stranger, and was left to drown with sundry others by the ship +we voyaged in; but Allah graciously sent me a wooden tub, so I saved +myself thereon, and it floated with me till the waves cast me up on this +island." When he heard this he took my hand, and saying "Come with me," +carried me into a great Sardáb, or underground chamber, which was +spacious as a saloon. He made me sit down at its upper end; then he +brought me somewhat of food, and, being anhungered, I ate till I was +satisfied and refreshed. And when he had put me at mine ease he +questioned me of myself, and I told him all that had befallen me from +first to last. And as he wondered at my adventure, I said, "By Allah, O +my lord, excuse me; I have told thee the truth of my case and the +accident which betided me. And now I desire that thou tell me who thou +art, and why thou abidest here under the earth, and why thou hast +tethered yonder mare on the brink of the sea." Answered he, "Know that I +am one of the several who are stationed in different parts of this +island, and we are of the grooms of King Mihrján, and under our hand are +all his horses.... And Inshallah! I will bear thee to King Mihrján--" + +And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted +say. + + +NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTIETH NIGHT, + +She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the Syce said +to Sindbad the Seaman, "I will bear thee to King Mihrján and show thee +our country. And know that hadst thou not happened on us, thou hadst +perished miserably and none had known of thee; but I will be the means +of the saving of thy life and of thy return to thine own land." I called +down blessings on him and thanked him for his kindness and courtesy.... +After this, we sat awhile, till the rest of the grooms came up, each +leading a mare, and seeing me with their fellow Syce questioned me of my +case, and I repeated my story to them. Thereupon they drew near me, and +spreading the table, ate and invited me to eat; so I ate with them, +after which they took horse, and mounting me on one of the mares, set +out with me and fared on without ceasing, till we came to the capital +city of King Mihrján, and going in to him acquainted him with my story. +Then he sent for me, and when they set me before him and salams had been +exchanged, he gave me a cordial welcome and wishing me long life bade me +tell him my tale. So I related to him all that I had seen and all that +had befallen me from first to last, whereat he marveled and said to me, +"By Allah, O my son, thou hast indeed been miraculously preserved! Were +not the term of thy life a long one, thou hadst not escaped from these +straits; but praised be Allah for safety!" Then he spoke cheerily to me +and entreated me with kindness and consideration; moreover, he made me +his agent for the port and registrar of all ships that entered the +harbor. I attended him regularly, to receive his commandments, and he +favored me and did me all manner of kindness and invested me with costly +and splendid robes. Indeed, I was high in credit with him, as an +intercessor for the folk and an intermediary between them and him, when +they wanted aught of him. I abode thus a great while, and as often as I +passed through the city to the port, I questioned the merchants and +travelers and sailors of the city of Baghdad; so haply I might hear of +an occasion to return to my native land, but could find none who knew it +or knew any who resorted thither. At this I was chagrined, for I was +weary of long strangerhood; and my disappointment endured for a time +till one day, going in to King Mihrján, I found with him a company of +Indians. I saluted them and they returned my salam; and politely +welcomed me and asked me of my country-- + +And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted +say. + + +NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIRST NIGHT, + +She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Sindbad the +Seaman said:--When they asked me of my country I questioned them of +theirs, and they told me that they were of various castes, some being +called Shakiriyah, who are the noblest of their castes and neither +oppress nor offer violence to any, and other Brahmans, a folk who +abstain from wine, but live in delight and solace and merriment, and own +camels and horses and cattle. Moreover, they told me that the people of +India are divided into two-and-seventy castes, and I marveled at this +with exceeding marvel. Amongst other things that I saw in King Mihrján's +dominions was an island called Kásil, wherein all night is heard the +beating of drums and tabrets; but we were told by the neighboring +islanders and by travelers that the inhabitants are people of diligence +and judgment. In this sea I saw also a fish two hundred cubits long, and +the fishermen fear it; so they strike together pieces of wood and put it +to flight. I also saw another fish, with a head like that of an owl, +besides many other wonders and rarities, which it would be tedious to +recount. I occupied myself thus in visiting the islands, till one day, +as I stood in the port, with a staff in my hand, according to my custom, +behold, a great ship, wherein were many merchants, came sailing for the +harbor. When it reached the small inner port where ships anchor under +the city, the master furled his sails and making fast to the shore, put +out the landing-planks, whereupon the crew fell to breaking bulk and +landing cargo whilst I stood by, taking written note of them. They were +long in bringing the goods ashore, so I asked the master, "Is there +aught left in thy ship?" and he answered, "O my lord, there are divers +bales of merchandise in the hold, whose owner was drowned from amongst +us at one of the islands on our course; so his goods remained in our +charge by way of trust, and we propose to sell them and note their +price, that we may convey it to his people in the city of Baghdad, the +Home of Peace." "What was the merchant's name?" quoth I, and quoth he, +"Sindbad the Seaman"; whereupon I straitly considered him and knowing +him, cried out to him with a great cry, saying, "O captain, I am that +Sindbad the Seaman who traveled with other merchants; and when the fish +heaved and thou calledst to us, some saved themselves and others sank, I +being one of them. But Allah Almighty threw in my way a great tub of +wood, of those the crew had used to wash withal, and the winds and waves +carried me to this island, where by Allah's grace I fell in with King +Mihrján's grooms and they brought me hither to the King their master. +When I told him my story he entreated me with favor and made me his +harbor-master, and I have prospered in his service and found acceptance +with him. These bales, therefore, are mine, the goods which God hath +given me--" + +And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted +say. + + +NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SECOND NIGHT, + +She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when Sindbad +the Seaman said to the captain, "These bales are mine, the goods which +Allah hath given me," the other exclaimed, "There is no Majesty and +there is no Might save in Allah, the Glorious, the Great! Verily, there +is neither conscience nor good faith left among men!" Said I, "O Rais, +what mean these words, seeing that I have told thee my case?" And he +answered, "Because thou heardest me say that I had with me goods whose +owner was drowned, thou thinkest to take them without right; but this is +forbidden by law to thee, for we saw him drown before our eyes, together +with many other passengers, nor was one of them saved. So how canst thou +pretend that thou art the owner of the goods?" "O captain," said I, +"listen to my story and give heed to my words, and my truth will be +manifest to thee; for lying and leasing are the letter-marks of the +hypocrites." Then I recounted to him all that had befallen me since I +sailed from Baghdad with him to the time when we came to the fish-island +where we were nearly drowned; and I reminded him of certain matters +which had passed between us; whereupon both he and the merchants were +certified of the truth of my story and recognized me and gave me joy of +my deliverance, saying, "By Allah, we thought not that thou hadst +escaped drowning! But the Lord hath granted thee new life." Then they +delivered my bales to me, and I found my name written thereon, nor was +aught thereof lacking. So I opened them, and making up a present for +King Mihrján of the finest and costliest of the contents, caused the +sailors to carry it up to the palace, where I went in to the King and +laid my present at his feet acquainting him with what had happened, +especially concerning the ship and my goods; whereat he wondered with +exceeding wonder and the truth of all that I had told him was made +manifest to him. His affection for me redoubled after that, and he +showed me exceeding honor and bestowed on me a great present in return +for mine. Then I sold my bales and what other matters I owned, making a +great profit on them, and bought me other goods and gear of the growth +and fashion of the island-city. When the merchants were about to start +on their homeward voyage, I embarked on board the ship all that I +possessed, and going in to the King, thanked him for all his favors and +friendship, and craved his leave to return to my own land and friends. +He farewelled me and bestowed upon me great store of the country-stuffs +and produce; and I took leave of him and embarked. Then we set sail and +fared on nights and days, by the permission of Allah Almighty; and +Fortune served us and Fate favored us, so that we arrived in safety at +Bassorah-city where I landed rejoiced at my safe return to my natal +soil. After a short stay, I set out for Baghdad, the House of Peace, +with store of goods and commodities of great price. Reaching the city in +due time, I went straight to my own quarter and entered my house, where +all my friends and kinsfolk came to greet me. Then I bought me eunuchs +and concubines, servants and negro slaves, till I had a large +establishment, and I bought me houses, and lands and gardens, till I was +richer and in better case than before, and returned to enjoy the society +of my friends and familiars more assiduously than ever, forgetting all I +had suffered of fatigue and hardship and strangerhood and every peril of +travel; and I applied myself to all manner joys and solaces and +delights, eating the daintiest viands and drinking the deliciousest +wines; and my wealth allowed this state of things to endure. This, then, +is the story of my first voyage, and to-morrow, Inshallah! I will tell +you the tale of the second of my seven voyages. Saith he who telleth the +tale: Then Sindbad the Seaman made Sindbad the Landsman sup with him and +bade give him an hundred gold pieces, saying, "Thou hast cheered us with +thy company this day." The Porter thanked him, and taking the gift, went +his way, pondering that which he had heard and marveling mightily at +what things betide mankind. + + +CONCLUSION OF THE 'THOUSAND NIGHTS AND A NIGHT' + +Translation of Captain Sir Richard F. Burton + +Now during this time Shahrazad had borne the King three boy children; +so, when she had made an end of the story of Ma'aruf, she rose to her +feet and kissing ground before him, said, "O King of the time and unique +one of the age and the tide, I am thine handmaid, and these thousand +nights and a night have I entertained thee with stories of folk gone +before and admonitory instances of the men of yore. May I then make bold +to crave a boon of thy highness?" He replied, "Ask, O Shahrazad, and it +shall be granted to thee." Whereupon she cried out to the nurses and the +eunuchs, saying, "Bring me my children." So they brought them to her in +haste, and they were three boy children, one walking, one crawling, and +one sucking. She took them, and setting them before the King, again +kissed ground and said, "O King of the Age, these are thy children and I +crave that thou release me from the doom of death, as a dole to these +infants; for, an thou kill me, they will become motherless and will find +none among women to rear them as they should be reared." When the King +heard this, he wept and straining the boys to his bosom, said, "By +Allah, O Shahrazad, I pardoned thee before the coming of these children, +for that I found thee chaste, pure, ingenuous, and pious! Allah bless +thee and thy father and thy mother and thy root and thy branch! I take +the Almighty to witness against me that I exempt thee from aught that +can harm thee." + +So she kissed his hands and feet and rejoiced with exceeding joy, +saying, "The Lord make thy life long and increase thee in dignity and +majesty!" presently adding, "Thou marveledst at which befell thee on the +part of women; yet there betided the Kings of the Chosroës before thee +greater mishaps and more grievous than that which hath befallen thee, +and indeed I have set forth unto thee that which happened to Caliphs and +Kings and others with their women, but the relation is longsome, and +hearkening groweth tedious, and in this is all-sufficient warning for +the man of wits and admonishment for the wise." Then she ceased to +speak, and when King Shahryar heard her speech and profited by that +which she had said, he summoned up his reasoning powers and cleansed his +heart and caused his understanding to revert, and turned to Allah +Almighty and said to himself, "Since there befell the Kings of the +Chosroës more than that which hath befallen me, never whilst I live +shall I cease to blame myself for the past. As for this Shahrazad, her +like is not found in the lands; so praise be to Him Who appointed her a +means for delivering His creatures from oppression and slaughter!" Then +he arose from his séance and kissed her head, whereat she rejoiced, she +and her sister Dunyazad, with exceeding joy. + +When the morning morrowed the King went forth, and sitting down on the +throne of the Kingship, summoned the Lords of his land; whereupon the +Chamberlains and Nabobs and Captains of the host went in to him and +kissed ground before him. He distinguished the Wazir, Shahrazad's sire, +with special favor and bestowed on him a costly and splendid robe of +honor, and entreated him with the utmost kindness, and said to him, +"Allah protect thee for that thou gavest me to wife thy noble daughter, +who hath been the means of my repentance from slaying the daughters of +folk. Indeed, I have found her pure and pious, chaste and ingenuous, and +Allah hath vouchsafed me by her three boy children; wherefore praised be +He for His passing favor." Then he bestowed robes of honor upon his +Wazirs and Emirs and Chief Officers and he set forth to them briefly +that which had betided him with Shahrazad, and how he had turned from +his former ways and repented him of what he had done, and proposed to +take the Wazir's daughter Shahrazad to wife, and let draw up the +marriage-contract with her. When those who were present heard this, they +kissed ground before him and blessed him and his betrothed Shahrazad, +and the Wazir thanked her. + +Then Shahryar made an end of his sitting in all weal, whereupon the folk +dispersed to their dwelling-places, and the news was bruited abroad that +the King proposed to marry the Wazir's daughter, Shahrazad. Then he +proceeded to make ready the wedding gear, and presently he sent after +his brother, King Shah Zaman, who came, and King Shahryar went forth to +meet him with the troops. Furthermore, they decorated the city after the +goodliest fashion and diffused scents from censers and burnt aloes-wood +and other perfumes in all the markets and thoroughfares and rubbed +themselves with saffron, what while the drums beat and the flutes and +pipes sounded and mimes and mountebanks played and plied their arts, and +the King lavished on them gifts and largesse, and in very deed it was a +notable day. When they came to the palace, King Shahryar commanded to +spread the table with beasts roasted whole, and sweetmeats, and all +manner of viands, and bade the crier cry to the folk that they should +come up to the Diwan and eat and drink, and that this should be a means +of reconciliation between him and them. So high and low, great and +small, came up unto him, and they abode on that wise, eating and +drinking, seven days with their nights. + +Then the King shut himself up with his brother, and related to him that +which had betided him with the Wazir's daughter Shahrazad during the +past three years, and told him what he had heard from her of proverbs +and parables, chronicles and pleasantries, quips and jests, stories and +anecdotes, dialogues and histories, and elegies and other verses; +whereat King Shah Zaman marveled with the utmost marvel and said, "Fain +would I take her younger sister to wife, so we may be two +brothers-german to two sisters-german, and they on like wise be sisters +to us; for that the calamity which befell me was the cause of our +discovering that which befell thee, and all this time of three years +past I have taken no delight in woman; but now I desire to marry thy +wife's sister Dunyazad." + +When King Shahryar heard his brother's words, he rejoiced with joy +exceeding, and arising forthright, went in to his wife Shahrazad and +acquainted her with that which his brother purposed, namely, that he +sought her sister Dunyazad in wedlock; whereupon she answered, "O King +of the Age, we seek of him one condition, to wit, that he take up his +abode with us, for that I cannot brook to be parted from my sister an +hour, because we were brought up together, and may not endure separation +each from another. If he accept this pact, she is his handmaid." King +Shahryar returned to his brother and acquainted him with that which +Shahrazad had said; and he replied, "Indeed, this is what was in my +mind, for that I desire nevermore to be parted from thee one hour. As +for the kingdom, Allah the Most High shall send to it whomso He +chooseth, for that I have no longer a desire for the kingship." + +When King Shahryar heard his brother's words, he rejoiced exceedingly +and said, "Verily, this is what I wished, O my brother. So +Alhamdolillah--Praised be Allah!--who hath brought about union between +us." Then he sent after the Kazis and Olema, Captains and Notables, and +they married the two brothers to the two sisters. The contracts were +written out, and the two Kings bestowed robes of honor of silk and satin +on those who were present, whilst the city was decorated and the +rejoicings were renewed. The King commanded each Emir and Wazir and +Chamberlain and Nabob to decorate his palace, and the folk of the city +were gladdened by the presage of happiness and contentment. King +Shahryar also bade slaughter sheep, and set up kitchens and made +bride-feasts and fed all comers, high and low; and he gave alms to the +poor and needy and extended his bounty to great and small. + +Then the eunuchs went forth that they might perfume the Hammam for the +brides; so they scented it with rosewater and willow-flower water and +pods of musk, and fumigated it with Kákilí eaglewood and ambergris. Then +Shahrazad entered, she and her sister Dunyazad, and they cleansed their +heads and clipped their hair. When they came forth of the Hammam-bath, +they donned raiment and ornaments, such as men were wont prepare for the +Kings of the Chosroës; and among Shahrazad's apparel was a dress purfled +with red gold and wrought with counterfeit presentments of birds and +beasts. And the two sisters encircled their necks with necklaces of +jewels of price, in the like whereof Iskander rejoiced not, for therein +were great jewels such as amazed the wit and dazzled the eye; and the +imagination was bewildered at their charms, for indeed each of them was +brighter than the sun and the moon. Before them they lighted brilliant +flambeaux of wax in candelabra of gold, but their faces outshone the +flambeaux, for that they had eyes sharper than unsheathed swords and the +lashes of their eyelids bewitched all hearts. Their cheeks were rosy +red, and their necks and shapes gracefully swayed, and their eyes +wantoned like the gazelle's; and the slave-girls came to meet them with +instruments of music. + +Then the two Kings entered the Hammam-bath, and when they came forth +they sat down on a couch set with pearls and gems, whereupon the two +sisters came up to them and stood between their hands, as they were +moons, bending and leaning from side to side in their beauty and +loveliness. Presently they brought forward Shahrazad and displayed her, +for the first dress, in a red suit; whereupon King Shahryar rose to look +upon her, and the wits of all present, men and women, were bewitched for +that she was even as saith of her one of her describers:-- + + A sun on wand in knoll of sand she showed, + Clad in her cramoisy-hued chemisette: + Of her lips' honey-dew she gave me drink + And with her rosy cheeks quencht fire she set. + +Then they attired Dunyazad in a dress of blue brocade, and she became as +she were the full moon when it shineth forth. So they displayed her in +this, for the first dress, before King Shah Zaman, who rejoiced in her +and well-nigh swooned away for love-longing and amorous desire; yea, he +was distraught with passion for her, whenas he saw her, because she was +as saith of her one of her describers in these couplets:-- + + She comes appareled in an azure vest + Ultramarine as skies are deckt and dight: + I view'd th' unparall'd sight, which showed my eyes + A Summer-moon upon a Winter-night. + +Then they returned to Shahrazad and displayed her in the second dress, a +suit of surpassing goodliness, and veiled her face with her hair like a +chin-veil. Moreover, they let down her side-locks, and she was even as +saith of her one of her describers in these couplets:-- + + O hail to him whose locks his cheeks o'ershade, + Who slew my life by cruel hard despight: + Said I, "Hast veiled the Morn in Night?" He said, + "Nay, I but veil the Moon in hue of Night." + +Then they displayed Dunyazad in a second and a third and a fourth dress, +and she paced forward like the rising sun, and swayed to and fro in the +insolence of her beauty; and she was even as saith the poet of her in +these couplets:-- + + The sun of beauty she to all appears + And, lovely coy, she mocks all loveliness: + And when he fronts her favor and her smile + A-morn, the sun of day in clouds must dress. + +Then they displayed Shahrazad in the third dress and the fourth and the +fifth, and she became as she were a Bán-branch snell of a thirsting +gazelle, lovely of face and perfect in attributes of grace, even as +saith of her one in these couplets:-- + + She comes like fullest moon on happy night, + Taper of waist with shape of magic might; + She hath an eye whose glances quell mankind, + And ruby on her cheeks reflects his light; + Enveils her hips the blackness of her hair; + Beware of curls that bite with viper-bite! + Her sides are silken-soft, what while the heart + Mere rock behind that surface 'scapes our sight; + From the fringed curtains of her cyne she shoots + Shafts that at furthest range on mark alight. + +Then they returned to Dunyazad and displayed her in the fifth dress and +in the sixth, which was green, when she surpassed with her loveliness +the fair of the four quarters of the world, and outvied, with the +brightness of her countenance, the full moon at rising tide; for she was +even as saith of her the poet in these couplets:-- + + A damsel 'twas the tirer's art had decked with snare and sleight, + And robed with rays as though the sun from her had borrowed + light; + She came before us wondrous clad in chemisette of green, + As veilèd by his leafy screen Pomegranate hides from sight; + And when he said, "How callest thou the fashion of thy dress?" + She answered us in pleasant way, with double meaning dight, + "We call this garment _crève-coeur;_ and rightly is it hight, + For many a heart wi' this we brake and harried many a sprite." + +Then they displayed Shahrazad in the sixth and seventh dresses and clad +her in youth's clothing, whereupon she came forward swaying from side to +side, and coquettishly moving, and indeed she ravished wits and hearts +and ensorcelled all eyes with her glances. She shook her sides and +swayed her haunches, then put her hair on sword-hilt and went up to King +Shahryar, who embraced her as hospitable host embraceth guest, and +threatened her in her ear with the taking of the sword; and she was even +as saith of her the poet in these words:-- + + Were not the Murk of gender male, + Than feminines surpassing fair, + Tire-women they had grudged the bride, + Who made her beard and whiskers wear! + +Thus also they did with her sister Dunyazad; and when they had made an +end of the display, the King bestowed robes of honor on all who were +present, and sent the brides to their own apartments. Then Shahrazad +went in to King Shahryar and Dunyazad to King Shah Zaman, and each of +them solaced himself with the company of his beloved consort, and the +hearts of the folk were comforted. When morning morrowed, the Wazir came +in to the two Kings and kissed ground before them; wherefore they +thanked him and were large of bounty to him. Presently they went forth +and sat down upon couches of kingship, whilst all the Wazirs and Emirs +and Grandees and Lords of the land presented themselves and kissed +ground. King Shahryar ordered them dresses of honor and largesse, and +they prayed for the permanence and prosperity of the King and his +brother. Then the two Sovrans appointed their sire-in-law the Wazir to +be Viceroy in Samarcand, and assigned him five of the Chief Emirs to +accompany him, charging them attend him and do him service. The Minister +kissed ground and prayed that they might be vouchsafed length of life: +then he went in to his daughters, whilst the Eunuchs and Ushers walked +before him, and saluted them and farewelled them. They kissed his hands +and gave him joy of the kingship and bestowed on him immense treasures; +after which he took leave of them, and setting out, fared days and +nights, till he came near Samarcand, where the townspeople met him at a +distance of three marches and rejoiced in him with exceeding joy. So he +entered the city, and they decorated the houses and it was a notable +day. He sat down on the throne of his kingship, and the Wazirs did him +homage and the Grandees and Emirs of Samarcand, and all prayed that he +might be vouchsafed justice and victory and length of continuance. So he +bestowed on them robes of honor and entreated them with distinction, and +they made him Sultan over them. As soon as his father-in-law had +departed for Samarcand, King Shahryar summoned the Grandees of his realm +and made them a stupendous banquet of all manner of delicious meats and +exquisite sweetmeats. He also bestowed on them robes of honor and +guerdoned them, and divided the kingdoms between himself and his brother +in their presence, whereat the folk rejoiced. Then the two Kings abode, +each ruling a day in turn, and they were ever in harmony each with +other, while on similar wise their wives continued in the love of Allah +Almighty and in thanksgiving to Him; and the peoples and the provinces +were at peace, and the preachers prayed for them from the pulpits, and +their report was bruited abroad and the travelers bore tidings of them +to all lands. In due time King Shahryar summoned chronicles and +copyists, and bade them write all that had betided him with his wife, +first and last; so they wrote this and named it 'The Stories of the +Thousand Nights and A Night.' The book came to thirty volumes, and these +the King laid up in his treasure. And the two brothers abode with their +wives in all pleasaunce and solace of life and its delights, for that +indeed Allah the Most High had changed their annoy into joy; and on this +wise they continued till there took them the Destroyer of delights and +the Severer of societies, the Desolator of dwelling-places, and Garnerer +of grave-yards, and they were translated to the ruth of Almighty Allah; +their houses fell waste and their palaces lay in ruins, and the Kings +inherited their riches. Then there reigned after them a wise ruler, who +was just, keen-witted, and accomplished, and loved tales and legends, +especially those which chronicle the doings of Sovrans and Sultans, and +he found in the treasury these marvelous stories and wondrous histories, +contained in the thirty volumes aforesaid. So he read in them a first +book and a second and a third and so on to the last of them, and each +book astounded and delighted him more than that which preceded it, till +he came to the end of them. Then he admired what so he had read therein +of description and discourse and rare traits and anecdotes and moral +instances and reminiscences, and bade the folk copy them and dispread +them over all lands and climes; wherefore their report was bruited +abroad and the people named them 'The marvels and wonders of the +Thousand Nights and A Night.' This is all that hath come down to us of +the origin of this book, and Allah is All-knowing. So Glory be to Him +Whom the shifts of Time waste not away, nor doth aught of chance or +change affect His sway! Whom one case diverteth not from other case, and +Who is sole in the attributes of perfect grace. And prayer and the Peace +be upon the Lord's Pontiff and Chosen One among His creatures, our Lord +MOHAMMED the Prince of mankind, through whom we supplicate Him for a +goodly and a godly end. + + + + +ARABIC LITERATURE + +BY RICHARD GOTTHEIL + + +Of no civilization is the complexion of its literary remains so +characteristic of its varying fortunes as is that of the Arabic. The +precarious conditions of desert life and of the tent, the more certain +existence in settled habitations, the grandeur of empire acquired in a +short period of enthusiastic rapture, the softening influence of luxury +and unwonted riches, are so faithfully portrayed in the literature of +the Arabs as to give us a picture of the spiritual life of the people +which no mere massing of facts can ever give. Well aware of this +themselves, the Arabs at an early date commenced the collection and +preservation of their old literary monuments with a care and a studious +concern which must excite within us a feeling of wonder. For the +material side of life must have made a strong appeal to these people +when they came forth from their desert homes. Pride in their own doings, +pride in their own past, must have spurred them on; yet an ardent +feeling for the beautiful in speech is evident from the beginning of +their history. The first knowledge that we have of the tribes scattered +up and down the deserts and oases of the Arabian peninsula comes to us +in the verses of their poets. The early Teuton bards, the rhapsodists of +Greece, were not listened to with more rapt attention than was the +simple Bedouin, who, seated on his mat or at the door of his tent, gave +vent to his feelings of joy or sorrow in such manner as nature had +gifted him. As are the ballads for Scottish history, so are the verses +of these untutored bards the record of the life in which they played no +mean part. Nor could the splendors of court life at Damascus, Bagdad, or +Cordova make their rulers insensible to the charms of poetry,--that +"beautiful poetry with which Allah has adorned the Muslim." A verse +happily said could always charm, a satire well pointed could always +incite; and the true Arab of to-day will listen to those so adorned with +the same rapt attention as did his fathers of long ago. + +This gift of the desert--otherwise so sparing of its favors--has not +failed to leave its impression upon the whole Arabic literature. Though +it has produced some prose writers of value, writing, as an art to charm +and to please, has always sought the measured cadence of poetry or the +unmeasured symmetry of rhymed prose. Its first lispings are in the +"trembling" (rájaz) metre,--iambics, rhyming in the same syllable +throughout; impromptu verses, in which the poet expressed the feelings +of the moment: a measure which, the Arabs say, matches the trembling +trot of the she-camel. It is simple in its character; coming so near to +rhymed prose that Khalíl (born 718), the great grammarian, would not +willingly admit that such lines could really be called poetry. Some of +these verses go back to the fourth and fifth centuries of our era. But a +growing sense of the poet's art was incompatible with so simple a +measure; and a hundred years before the appearance of the Prophet, many +of the canonical sixteen metres were already in vogue. Even the later +complete poems bear the stamp of their origin, in the loose connection +with which the different parts stand to each other. The "Kasídah" (poem) +is built upon the principle that each verse must be complete in +itself,--there being no stanzas,--and separable from the context; which +has made interpolations and omissions in the older poems a matter +of ease. + +The classical period of Arabic poetry, which reaches from the beginning +of the sixth century to the beginning of the eighth, is dominated by +this form of the Kasídah. Tradition refers its origin to one al-Muhalhel +ibn Rabí'a of the tribe of Taghlib, about one hundred and fifty years +before Muhammad; though, as is usual, this honor is not uncontested. The +Kasídah is composed of distichs, the first two of which only are to +rhyme; though every line must end in the same syllable. It must have at +least seven or ten verses, and may reach up to one hundred or over. In +nearly every case it deals with a tribe or a single person,--the poet +himself or a friend,--and may be either a panegyric, a satire, an elegy, +or a eulogy. That which it is the aim of the poet to bring out comes +last; the greater part of the poem being of the nature of a _captatio +benevolentia_. Here he can show his full power of expression. He usually +commences with the description of a deserted camping-ground, where he +sees the traces of his beloved. He then adds the erotic part, and +describes at length his deeds of valor in the chase or in war; in order, +then, to lead over to the real object he has in view. Because of this +disposition of the material, which is used by the greater poets of this +time, the general form of the Kasídah became in a measure stereotyped. +No poem was considered perfect unless molded in this form. + +Arabic poetry is thus entirely lyrical. There was too little, among +these tribes, of the common national life which forms the basis for the +Epos. The Semitic genius is too subjective, and has never gotten beyond +the first rude attempts at dramatic composition. Even in its lyrics, +Arabic poetry is still more subjective than the Hebrew of the Bible. It +falls generally into the form of an allocution, even where it is +descriptive. It is the poet who speaks, and his personality pervades the +whole poem. He describes nature as he finds it, with little of the +imaginative, "in dim grand outlines of a picture which must be filled +up by the reader, guided only by a few glorious touches powerfully +standing out." A native quickness of apprehension and intense feeling +nurtured this poetic sentiment among the Arabs. The continuous enmity +among the various tribes produced a sort of knight-errantry which gave +material to the poet; and the richness of his language put a tongue in +his mouth which could voice forth the finest shades of description or +sentiment. Al-Damári has wisely said: "Wisdom has alighted upon three +things,--the brain of the Franks, the hands of the Chinese, and the +tongues of the Arabs." + +The horizon which bounded the Arab poet's view was not far drawn out. He +describes the scenes of his desert life: the sand dunes; the camel, +antelope, wild ass, and gazelle; his bow and arrow and his sword; his +loved one torn from him by the sudden striking of the tents and +departure of her tribe. The virtues which he sings are those in which he +glories, "love of freedom, independence in thought and action, +truthfulness, largeness of heart, generosity, and hospitality." His +descriptions breathe the freshness of his outdoor life and bring us +close to nature: his whole tone rings out a solemn note, which is even +in his lighter moments grave and serious,--as existence itself was for +those sons of the desert, who had no settled habitation, and who, more +than any one, depended upon the bounty of Allah. Although these Kasídahs +passed rapidly from mouth to mouth, little would have been preserved for +us had there not been a class of men who, led on some by desire, some by +necessity, made it their business to write down the compositions, and to +keep fresh in their memory the very pronunciation of each word. Every +poet had such a Ráwiah. Of one Hammád it is said that he could recite +one hundred Kasídahs rhyming on each letter of the alphabet, each +Kasídah having at least one hundred verses. Abu Tammám (805), the author +of the 'Hamásah,' is reported to have known by heart fourteen thousand +pieces of the metre rájaz. It was not, however, until the end of the +first century of the Híjrah that systematic collections of this older +literature were commenced. + +It was this very Hammád (died 777) who put together seven of the +choicest poems of the early Arabs. He called them 'Mu 'allakât,'--"the +hung up" (in a place of honor, in the estimation of the people). The +authors of these seven poems were: Imr-al-Kais, Tárafa, Zuhéir, Labîd +(570), 'Antara, 'Amr, and al-Hárith. The common verdict of their +countrymen has praised the choice made by Hammád. The seven remained the +great models, to which later poets aspired: in description of love, +those of Imr-al-Kais and 'Antara; in that of the camel and the horse, +Labîd; of battle, 'Amr; in the praise of arms, Hárith; in wise maxims, +Zuhéir. To these must be added al-Nabighah, 'Alkamah, Urwa ibn al-Ward, +Hássan ibn Thábit, al-A'sha, Aus ibn Hájar, and as-Shánfarah, whose +poem has been called "the most magnificent of old Arabic poems." In +addition to the single poems found in the 'Mu 'allakât' and elsewhere, +nearly all of these composed whole series of poems, which were at a +later time put in the form of collections and called 'Diwans.' Some of +these poets have left us as many as four hundred verses. Such +collections were made by grammarians and antiquarians of a later age. In +addition to the collections made around the name of a single poet, +others were made, fashioned upon a different principle: The +'Mufáddaliyát' (the most excellent poems), put together by al-Mufáddal +(761); the 'Diwan' of the poets of the tribe of Hudhéil; the 'Hamásah' +(Bravery; so called from the subject of the first of the ten books into +which the collection is divided) of Abu Tammám. The best anthology of +these poems is 'The Great Book of Songs,' put together by Abu al-Fáraj +al-Ispa-háni (died 967). + +With these poets Arabic literature reached its highest development. They +are the true expression of the free Arabic spirit. Most of them lived +before or during the time of the appearance of Muhammad. His coming +produced a great change in the life of the simple Bedouins. Though they +could not be called heathen, their religion expressed itself in the +simple feeling of dependence upon higher powers, without attempting to +bring this faith into a close connection with their daily life. Muhammad +introduced a system into which he tried to mold all things. He wished to +unite the scattered tribes to one only purpose. He was thus cutting away +that untrammeled spirit and that free life which had been the making of +Arabic poetry. He knew this well. He knew also the power the poets had +over the people. His own 'Qur'an' (Koran) was but a poor substitute for +the elegant verses of his opponents. "Imr-al-Kais," he said, "is the +finest of all poets, and their leader into everlasting fire." On another +occasion he is reported to have called out, "Verily, a belly full of +matter is better than a belly full of poetry." Even when citing verses, +he quoted them in such a manner as to destroy the metre. Abu Bekr very +properly remarked, "Truly God said in the 'Qur'an,' 'We have not taught +him poetry, and it suits him not.'" In thus decrying the poets of +"barbarism," and in setting up the 'Qur'an' as the greatest production +of Arabic genius, Muhammad was turning the national poetry to its +decline. Happily his immediate successors were unable or unwilling to +follow him strictly. Ali himself, his son-in-law, is said to have been a +poet; nor did the Umáyyid Caliphs of Damascus, "very heathens in their +carnal part," bring the new spirit to its full bloom, as did the +Abbassides of Bagdad. + +And yet the old spirit was gradually losing ground. The consolidation of +the empire brought greater security; the riches of Persia and Syria +produced new types of men. The centre of Arab life was now in the city, +with all its trammels, its forced politeness, its herding together. The +simplicity which characterized the early caliphs was going; in its place +was come a court,--court life, court manners, court poets. The love of +poetry was still there; but the poet of the tent had become the poet of +the house and the palace. Like those troubadours who had become +jongleurs, they lived upon the crumbs which fell from the table of +princes. Such crumbs were often not to be despised. Many a time and oft +the bard tuned his lyre merely for the price of his services. We know +that he was richly rewarded. Harún gave a dress worth four hundred +thousand pieces of gold to Já'far ibn Yahya; at his death, Ibn 'Ubeid +al-Buchtarí (865) left one hundred complete suits of dress, two hundred +shirts, and five hundred turbans--all of which had been given him for +his poems. The freshness of olden times was fading little by little; the +earnestness of the Bedouin poet was making way for a lightness of heart. +In this intermediate period, few were born so happily, and yet so imbued +with the new spirit, as was 'Umar ibn 'Rabí'a (644), "the man of +pleasure as well as the man of literature." Of rich parentage, gifted +with a love of song which moved him to speak in verses, he was able to +keep himself far from both prince and palace. He was of the family of +Kureísh, in whose Muhammad all the glories of Arabia had centred, with +one exception,--the gift of poetry. And now "this Don Juan of Mecca, +this Ovid of Arabia," was to wipe away that stain. He was the Arabian +Minnesinger, whom Friedrich Rückert called "the greatest love-poet the +Arabs have produced." A man of the city, the desert had no attractions +for him. But he sang of love as he made love,--with utter disregard of +holy place or high station, in an erotic strain strange to the stern +Umáyyids. No wonder they warned their children against reading his +compositions. "The greatest sin committed against Allah are the poems of +'Umar ibn Rabí'a," they said. + +With the rise of the Abbassides (750), that "God-favored dynasty," +Arabic literature entered upon its second great development; a +development which may be distinguished from that of the Umáyyids (which +was Arabian) as, in very truth, Muhammadan. With Bagdad as the capital, +it was rather the non-Arabic Persians who held aloft the torch than the +Arabs descended from Kuréish. It was a bold move, this attempt to weld +the old Persian civilization with the new Muhammadan. Yet so great was +the power of the new faith that it succeeded. The Barmecide major-domo +ably seconded his Abbasside master; the glory of both rests upon the +interest they took in art, literature, and science. The Arab came in +contact with a new world. Under Mansúr (754), Harun al-Rashid (786), and +Ma'mún (813), the wisdom of the Greeks in philosophy and science, the +charms of Persia and India in wit and satire, were opened up to +enlightened eyes. Upon all of these, whatever their nationality, Islam +had imposed the Arab tongue, pride in the faith and in its early +history. 'Qur'an' exegesis, philosophy, law, history, and science were +cultivated under the very eyes and at the bidding of the Palace. And, at +least for several centuries, Europe was indebted to the culture of +Bagdad for what it knew of mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy. + +The Arab muse profited with the rest of this revival. History and +philosophy, as a study, demanded a close acquaintance with the products +of early Arab genius. The great philologian al-Asmái (740-831) collected +the songs and tales of the heroic age; and a little later, with other +than philological ends in view, Abu Tammám and al-Búchturí (816-913) +made the first anthologies of the old Arabic literatures ('Hamásah'). +Poetry was already cultivated: and amid the hundreds of wits, poets, and +singers who thronged the entrance to the court, there are many who claim +real poetic genius. Among them are al-Ahtal (died 713), a Christian; +'Umar ibn Rabí'a (died 728), Jarír al-Farázdak (died 728), and Muslim +ibn al-Walíd (died 828). But it is rather the Persian spirit which +rules,--the spirit of the Shahnámeh and Firdaúsi,--"charming elegance, +servile court flattery, and graceful wit." In none are the +characteristics so manifest as in Abu Núwas (762-819), the Poet Laureate +of Harun, the Imr-al-Kais of his time. His themes are wine and love. +Everything else he casts to the wind; and like his modern counterpart, +Heine, he drives the wit of his satire deep into the holiest feelings of +his people. "I would that all which Religion and Law forbids were +permitted me; and if I had only two years to live, that God would change +me into a dog at the Temple in Mecca, so that I might bite every pilgrim +in the leg," he is reported to have said. When he himself did once make +the required pilgrimage, he did so in order to carry his loves up to the +very walls of the sacred house. "Jovial, adventure-loving, +devil-may-care," irreligious in all he did, yet neither the Khalif nor +the whole Muhammadan world were incensed. In spite of all, they petted +him and pronounced his wine-songs the finest ever written; full of +thought and replete with pictures, rich in language and true to every +touch of nature. "There are no poems on wine equal to my own, and to my +amatory compositions all others must yield," he himself has said. He was +poor and had to live by his talents. But wherever he went he was richly +rewarded. He was content only to be able to live in shameless revelry +and to sing. As he lived, so he died,--in a half-drunken group, cut to +pieces by those who thought themselves offended by his lampoons. + +At the other end of the Muslim world, the star of the Umáyyids, which +had set at Damascus, rose again at Cordova. The union of two +civilizations--Indo-Germanic and Semitic--was as advantageous in the +West as in the East. The influence of the spirit of learning which +reigned at Bagdad reached over to Spain, and the two dynasties vied with +each other in the patronage of all that was beautiful in literature and +learned in science. Poetry was cultivated and poets cherished with a +like regard: the Spanish innate love of the Muse joined hands with that +of the Arabic. It was the same kind of poetry in Umáyyid Spain as in +Abbasside Bagdad: poetry of the city and of the palace. But another +element was added here,--the Western love for the softer beauties of +nature, and for their expression in finely worked out mosaics and in +graceful descriptions. It is this that brings the Spanish-Arabic poetry +nearer to us than the more splendid and glittering verses of the +Abbassides, or the cruder and less polished lines of the first +Muhammadans. The amount of poetry thus composed in Arab Spain may be +gauged by the fact that an anthology made during the first half of the +tenth century, by Ibn Fáraj, contained twenty thousand verses. Cordova +under 'Abd-al-Rahmán III. and Hákim II. was the counterpart of Bagdad +under Harun. "The most learned prince that ever lived," Hákim was so +renowned a patron of literature that learned men wandered to him from +all over the Arab Empire. He collected a library of four hundred +thousand volumes, which had been gathered together by his agents in +Egypt, Syria, and Persia: the catalogue of which filled forty-four +volumes. In Cordova he founded a university and twenty-seven free +schools. What wonder that all the sciences--Tradition, Theology, +Jurisprudence, and especially History and Geography--flourished during +his reign. Of the poets of this period there may be mentioned: Sa'íd ibn +Júdi--the pattern of the Knight of those days, the poet loved of women; +Yáhyah ibn Hakam, "the gazelle"; Ahmad ibn 'Abd Rabbíh, the author of a +commonplace book; Ibn Abdún of Badjiz, Ibn Hafájah of Xucar, Ibn Sa'íd +of Granada. Kings added a new jewel to their crown, and took an honored +place among the bards; as 'Abd al-Rahmán I., and Mu'tamid (died 1095), +the last King of Seville, whose unfortunate life he himself has pictured +in most beautiful elegies. Although the short revival under the +Almohades (1184-1198) produced such men as Ibn Roshd, the commentator on +Aristotle, and Ibn Toféil, who wrote the first 'Robinson Crusoe' story, +the sun was already setting. When Ferdinand burned the books which had +been so laboriously collected, the dying flame of Arab culture in +Spain went out. + +During the third period--from Ma'mún (813), under whom the Turkish +body-guards began to wield their baneful influence, until the break-up +of the Abbasside Empire in 1258--there are many names, but few real +poets, to be mentioned. The Arab spirit had spent itself, and the Mogul +cloud was on the horizon. There were 'Abd-allah ibn al-Mu'tazz, died +908; Abu Firás, died 967; al-Tughrai, died 1120; al-Busíri, died +1279,--author of the 'Búrda,' poem in praise of Muhammad: but +al-Mutanábbi, died 965, alone deserves special mention. The +"Prophet-pretender"--for such his name signifies--has been called by Von +Hammer "the greatest Arabian poet"; and there is no doubt that his +'Diwán,' with its two hundred and eighty-nine poems, was and is widely +read in the East. But it is only a depraved taste that can prefer such +an epigene to the fresh desert-music of Imr-al-Kais. Panegyrics, songs +of war and of bloodshed, are mostly the themes that he dilates upon. He +was in the service of Saif al-Dáulah of Syria, and sang his victories +over the Byzantine Kaiser. He is the true type of the prince's poet. +Withal, the taste for poetic composition grew, though it produced a +smaller number of great poets. But it also usurped for itself fields +which belong to entirely different literary forms. Grammar, +lexicography, philosophy, and theology were expounded in verse; but the +verse was formal, stiff, and unnatural. Poetic composition became a +_tour de force_. + +This is nowhere better seen than in that species of composition which +appeared for the first time in the eleventh century, and which so +pleased and charmed a degenerate age as to make of the 'Makamat' the +most favorite reading. Ahmad Abu Fadl al-Hamadhání, "the wonder of all +time" (died 1007), composed the first of such "sessions." Of his four +hundred only a few have come down to our time. Abu Muhammad al-Hariri +(1030-1121), of Bâsra, is certainly the one who made this species of +literature popular; he has been closely imitated in Hebrew by Charízi +(1218), and in Syriac by Ebed Yéshu (1290). "Makámah" means the place +where one stands, where assemblies are held; then, the discourses +delivered, or conversations held in such an assembly. The word is used +here especially to denote a series of "discourses and conversations +composed in a highly finished and ornamental style, and solely for the +purpose of exhibiting various kinds of eloquence, and exemplifying the +rules of grammar, rhetoric, and poetry." Hariri himself speaks of-- + + "These 'Makamat,' which contain serious language and lightsome, + And combine refinement with dignity of style, + And brilliancies with jewels of eloquence, + And beauties of literature with its rarities, + Besides quotations from the 'Qur'an,' wherewith I adorned them, + And choice metaphors, and Arab proverbs that I interspersed, + And literary elegancies, and grammatical riddles, + And decisions upon ambiguous legal questions, + And original improvisations, and highly wrought orations, + And plaintive discourses, as well as jocose witticisms." + +The design is thus purely literary. The fifty "sessions" of Hariri, +which are written in rhymed prose interspersed with poetry, contain +oratorical, poetical, moral, encomiastic, and satirical discourses, +which only the merest thread holds together. Each Makámah is a unit, and +has no necessary connection with that which follows. The thread which so +loosely binds them together is the delineation of the character of Abu +Zeid, the hero, in his own words. He is one of those wandering minstrels +and happy improvisers whom the favor of princes had turned into +poetizing beggars. In each Makámah is related some ruse, by means of +which Abu Zeid, because of his wonderful gift of speech, either +persuades or forces those whom he meets to pay for his sustenance, and +furnish the means for his debauches. Not the least of those thus +ensnared is his great admirer, Háreth ibn Hammám, the narrator of the +whole, who is none other than Hariri. Wearied at last with his life of +travel, debauch, and deception, Abu Zeid retires to his native city and +becomes an ascetic, thus to atone in a measure for his past sins. The +whole might be called, not improperly, a tale, a novel. But the +intention of the poet is to show forth the richness and variety of the +Arabic language; and his own power over this great mass brings the +descriptive--one might almost say the lexicographic--side too much to +the front. A poem that can be read either backward or forward, or which +contains all the words in the language beginning with a certain letter, +may be a wonderful mosaic, but is nothing more. The merit of Hariri lies +just in this: that working in such cramped quarters, with such intent +and design continually guiding his pen, he has often really done more. +He has produced rhymed prose and verses which are certainly elegant in +diction and elevated in tone. + +Such tales as these, told as an exercise of linguistic gymnastics, must +not blind us to the presence of real tales, told for their own sake. +Arabic literature has been very prolific in these. They lightened the +graver subjects discussed in the tent,--philosophy, religion, and +grammar,--and they furnished entertainment for the more boisterous +assemblies in the coffee-houses and around the bowl. For the Arab is an +inveterate story-teller; and in nearly all the prose that he writes, +this character of the "teller" shimmers clearly through the work of the +"writer." He is an elegant narrator. Not only does he intersperse verses +and lines more frequently than our own taste would license: by nature, +he easily falls into the half-hearted poetry of rhymed prose, for which +the rich assonances of his language predispose. His own learning was +further cultivated by his early contact with Persian literature; through +which the fable and the wisdom of India spoken from the mouths of dumb +animals reached him. In this more frivolous form of inculcating wisdom, +the Prophet scented danger to his strait-laced demands: "men who bring +sportive legends, to lead astray from God's path without knowledge and +to make a jest of it; for such is shameful woe," is written in the +thirty-first Surah. In vain; for in hours of relaxation, such works as +the 'Fables of Bidpai' (translated from the Persian in 750 by 'Abd Allah +ibn Mukáffah), the 'Ten Viziers,' the 'Seven Wise Masters,' etc., proved +to be food too palatable. Nor were the Arabs wanting in their own +peculiar 'Romances,' influenced only in some portions of the setting by +Persian ideas. Such were the 'Story of Saif ibn dhi Yázan,' the 'Tale of +al-Zir,' the 'Romance of Dálhmah,' and especially the 'Romance of Antar' +and the 'Thousand Nights and A Night.' The last two romances are +excellent commentaries on Arab life, at its dawn and at its fullness, +among the roving chiefs of the desert and the homes of revelry in +Bagdad. As the rough-hewn poetry of Imr-al-Kais and Zuhéir is a clearer +exponent of the real Arab mind, roving at its own suggestion, than the +more perfect and softer lines of a Mutanábbi, so is the 'Romance of +Antar' the full expression of real Arab hero-worship. And even in the +cities of the Orient to-day, the loungers in their cups can never weary +of following the exploits of this black son of the desert, who in his +person unites the great virtues of his people, magnanimity and bravery, +with the gift of poetic speech. Its tone is elevated; its coarseness has +as its origin the outspokenness of unvarnished man; it does not peep +through the thin veneer of licentious suggestiveness. It is never +trivial, even in its long and wearisome descriptions, in its +ever-recurring outbursts of love. Its language suits its thought: choice +and educated, and not descending--as in the 'Nights'--to the common +expressions of ordinary speech. In this it resembles the 'Makamat' of +Hariri, though much less artificial and more enjoyable. It is the Arabic +romance of chivalry, and may not have been without influence on the +spread of the romance of mediæval Europe. For though its central figure +is a hero of pre-Islamic times, it was put together by the learned +philologian, al-'Asmái, in the days of Harun the Just, at the time when +Charlemagne was ruling in Europe. + +There exist in Arabic literature very few romances of the length of +'Antar.' Though the Arab delights to hear and to recount tales, his +tales are generally short and pithy. It is in this shorter form that he +delights to inculcate principles of morality and norms of character. He +is most adroit at repartee and at pungent replies. He has a way of +stating principles which delights while it instructs. The anecdote is at +home in the East: many a favor is gained, many a punishment averted, by +a quick answer and a felicitously turned expression. Such anecdotes +exist as popular traditions in very large numbers; and he receives much +consideration whose mind is well stocked with them. Collections of +anecdotes have been put to writing from time to time. Those dealing with +the early history of the caliphate are among the best prose that the +Arabs have produced. For pure prose was never greatly cultivated. The +literature dealing with their own history, or with the geography and +culture of the nations with which they came in contact, is very large, +and as a record of facts is most important. Ibn Hishám (died 767), +Wákidi (died 822), Tabari (838-923), Masudi (died 957), Ibn Athír (died +1233), Ibn Khaldún (died 1406), Makrisi (died 1442), Suyúti (died 1505), +and Makkári (died 1631), are only a few of those who have given us large +and comprehensive histories. Al-Birúni (died 1038), writer, +mathematician, and traveler, has left us an account of the India of his +day which has earned for him the title "Herodotus of India," though for +careful observation and faithful presentation he stands far above the +writer with whose name he is adorned. But nearly all of these historical +writers are mere chronologists, dry and wearisome to the general reader. +It is only in the Preface, or 'Exordium,' often the most elaborate part +of the whole book viewed from a rhetorical standpoint, that they attempt +to rise above mere incidents and strive after literary form. Besides the +regard in which anecdotes are held, it is considered a mark of education +to insert in one's speech as often as possible a familiar saying, a +proverb, a _bon mot_. These are largely used in the moral addresses +(Khútbah) made in the mosque or elsewhere, addresses which take on also +the form of rhymed prose. A famous collection of such sayings is +attributed to 'Ali, the fourth successor of Muhammad. In these the whole +power of the Arab for subtle distinctions in matters of wordly wisdom, +and the truly religious feeling of the East, are clearly manifested. + +The propensity of the Arab mind for the tale and the anecdote has had a +wider influence in shaping the religious and legal development, of +Muhammadanism than would appear at first sight. The 'Qur'an' might well +suffice as a directive code for a small body of men whose daily life was +simple, and whose organization was of the crudest kind. But even +Muhammad in his own later days was called on to supplement the written +word by the spoken, to interpret such parts of his "book" as were +unintelligible, to reconcile conflicting statements, and to fit the +older legislation to changed circumstances. As the religious head of the +community, his dictum became law; and these _logia_ of the Prophet were +handed around and handed down as the unwritten law by which his +lieutenants were to be guided, in matters not only religious, but also +legal. For "law" to them was part and parcel of "religion." This +"hadith" grew apace, until, in the third century of the Híjrah, it was +put to writing. Nothing bears weight which has not the stamp of +Muhammad's authority, as reported by his near surroundings and his +friends. In such a mass of tradition, great care is taken to separate +the chaff from the wheat. The chain of tradition (Isnád) must be given +for each tradition, for each anecdote. But the "friends" of the Prophet +are said to have numbered seven thousand five hundred, and it has not +been easy to keep out fraud and deception. The subjects treated are most +varied, sometimes even trivial, but dealing usually with recondite +questions of law and morals. Three great collections of the 'Hadíth' +have been made: by al-Buchári (869), Múslim (874), and al-Tirmídhi +(892). The first two only are considered canonical. From these are +derived the three great systems of jurisprudence which to this day hold +good in the Muhammadan world. + +The best presentation of the characteristics of Arabic poetry is by W. +Ahlwardt, 'Ueber Poesie und Poetik der Araber' (Gotha, 1856); of Arabic +metres, by G.W. Freytag, 'Darstellung der Arabischen Verkunst' (Bonn, +1830). Translations of Arabic poetry have been published by J.D. +Carlyle, 'Specimens of Arabic Poetry' (Cambridge, 1796); W.A. Clouston, +'Arabic Poetry' (Glasgow, 1881); C.J. Lyall, 'Translations of Ancient +Arabic Poetry' (London, 1885). The history of Arabic literature is given +in Th. Nöldeke's 'Beiträge zur Kenntniss der Poesie der Alten Araber' +(Hanover, 1864), and F.F. Arbuthnot's 'Arabic Authors' (London, 1890). + +[Author's signature] Richard Gottheil + + + + +DESCRIPTION OF A MOUNTAIN STORM + +From the most celebrated of the 'Mu 'allakât,' that of Imr-al-Kais, 'The +Wandering King': Translation of C.J. Lyall. + + O friend, see the lightning there! it flickered and now is gone, + as though flashed a pair of hands in the pillar of crowned cloud. + Now, was it its blaze, or the lamps of a hermit that dwells alone, + and pours o'er the twisted wicks the oil from his slender cruse? + We sat there, my fellows and I, 'twixt Dárij and al-Udhaib, + and gazed as the distance gloomed, and waited its oncoming. + The right of its mighty rain advanced over Katan's ridge; + the left of its trailing skirt swept Yadhbul and as-Sitar: + Then over Kutaifah's steep the flood of its onset drave, + and headlong before its storm the tall trees were borne to ground; + And the drift of its waters passed o'er the crags of al-Kanân, + and drave forth the white-legged deer from the refuge they + sought therein. + And Taimá--it left not there the stem of a palm aloft, + nor ever a tower, save ours, firm built on the living rock. + And when first its misty shroud bore down upon Mount Thabîr, + he stood like an ancient man in a gray-streaked mantle wrapt. + The clouds cast their burdens down on the broad plain of al-Ghabit, + as a trader from al-Yaman unfolds from the bales his store; + And the topmost crest, on the morrow, of al-Mujaimir's cairn, + was heaped with the flood-borne wrack, like wool on a distaff wound. + + * * * * * + + FROM THE 'MU 'ALLAKÂT' OF ZUHÉIR + + +A lament for the desertion, through a war, of his former home and the +haunts of his tribe; Translation of C. J. Lyall. + + + I + + Are they of Umm Aufà's tents--these black lines that speak no word + in the stony plain of al-Mutathellam and al-Darraj? + Yea, and the place where his camp stood in ar-Rakmatan is now + like the tracery drawn afresh by the veins of the inner wrist. + The wild kine roam there large-eyed, and the deer pass to and fro, + and their younglings rise up to suck from the spots where they + all lie round. + I stood there and gazed; since I saw it last twenty years had flown, + and much I pondered thereon: hard was it to know again-- + The black stones in order laid in the place where the pot was set, + and the trench like a cistern's root with its sides unbroken still. + And when I knew it, at last, for his resting-place, I cried, + "Good greeting to thee, O house! Fair peace in the morn to thee!" + Look forth, O friend! canst thou see aught of ladies, camel-borne, + that journey along the upland there, above Jurthum well? + Their litters are hung with precious stuffs, and their veils thereon + cast loosely, their borders rose, as though they were dyed in blood. + Sideways they sat as their beasts clomb the ridge of as-Sûbân; + in them were the sweetness and grace of one nourished in wealth + and ease. + They went on their way at dawn--they started before sunrise; + straight did they make for the vale of ar-Rass, as hand for mouth. + Dainty and playful their mood to one who should try its worth, + and faces fair to an eye skilled to trace out loveliness. + And the tassels of scarlet wool, in the spots where they gat them + down + glowed red, like to '_ishrik_ seeds, fresh-fallen, unbroken, bright. + And then they reached the wells where the deep-blue water lies, + they cast down their staves, and set them to pitch the tents for + rest. + On their right hand rose al-Kanân, and the rugged skirts thereof-- + (and in al-Kanân how many are foes and friends of mine!) + At eve they left as-Sûbân; then they crossed the ridge again, + borne on the fair-fashioned litters, all new and builded broad. + + [Certain cantos, to the sixth one, reproach the author of the + treachery and quarrel that led to the war and migration. Then + follows a series of maxims as to human life and conduct.] + + VI + + Aweary am I of life's toil and travail: he who like me + has seen pass of years fourscore, well may he be sick of life! + I know what To-day unfolds, what before it was Yesterday; + but blind do I stand before the knowledge To-morrow brings. + I have seen the Dooms trample men as a blind beast at random treads: + whom they smote, he died; whom they missed, he lived on to + strengthless eld. + Who gathers not friends by help, in many cases of need + is torn by the blind beast's teeth, or trodden beneath its foot. + And he who his honor shields by the doing of a kindly deed + grows richer; who shuts not the mouth of reviling, it lights on him. + And he who is lord of wealth and niggardly with his hoard, + alone is he left by his kin; naught have they for him but blame. + Who keeps faith, no blame he earns, and that man whose heart is led + to goodness unmixed with guile gains freedom and peace of soul. + Who trembles before the Dooms, yea, him shall they surely seize, + albeit he set a ladder to climb the sky. + Who spends on unworthy men his kindness with lavish hand; + no praise doth he earn, but blame, and repentance the seed thereof. + Who will not yield to the spears, when their feet turn to him in + peace, + shall yield to the points thereof, and the long flashing blades of + steel. + Who holds not his foe away from his cistern with sword and spear, + it is broken and spoiled; who uses not roughness, him shall men + wrong. + Who seeks far away from kin for housing, takes foe for friend; + who honors himself not well, no honor gains he from men. + Who makes of his soul a beast of burden to bear men's loads, + nor shields it one day from shame, yea, sorrow shall be his lot. + Whatso be the shaping of mind that a man is born withal, + though he think it lies hid from men, it shall surely one day be + known. + How many a man seemed goodly to thee while he held his peace, + whereof thou didst learn the more or less when he turned to speech. + The tongue is a man's one-half, the other, the heart within; + besides these two naught is left but a semblance of flesh and blood. + If a man be old and a fool, his folly is past all cure; + but a young man may yet grow wise and cast off his foolishness. + + + + VII + + We asked, and ye gave; we asked again, and ye gave again: + but the end of much asking must be that no giving shall follow it. + + + + TARAFAH IBN AL 'ABD + +A rebuke to a mischief-maker: Translation of C. J. Lyall + + The craft of thy busy tongue has sundered from home and kin + the cousins of both thy houses, 'Amr, 'Auf, and Mâlik's son. + For thou to thy dearest art a wind of the bitter north, + that sweeps from the Syrian hills, and wrinkles our cheeks and + brows. + But balmy art thou and mild to strangers, a gracious breeze + that brings from the gulf shore showers and fills with its rain our + streams. + And this, of a truth, I know--no fancy it is of mine: + who holds mean his kith and kin, the meanest of men is he! + And surely a foolish tongue, when rules not its idle prate + discretion, but shows men where thou dwellest with none to guard. + + + LABÎD + +A lament for the afflictions of his tribe, the 'Âmir. From the 'Diwan': +Translation of C.J. Lyall. + + + Yea, the righteous shall keep the way of the righteous, + and to God turn the steps of all that abideth; + And to God ye return, too; with Him, only, + rest the issues of things--and all that they gather. + All that is in the Book of Knowledge is reckoned, + and before Him revealed lies all that is hidden: + Both the day when His gifts of goodness on those whom + He exalts are as palms full freighted with sweetness, + (Young, burdened with fruit, their heads bowed with clusters, + swelled to bursting, the tallest e'en as the lesser,) + And the day when avails the sin-spotted only + prayer for pardon and grace to lead him to mercy, + And the good deed he wrought to witness before him, + and the pity of Him who is Compassion: + Yea, a place in his shade, the best to abide in, + and a heart still and steadfast, right weening, honest. + Is there aught good in life? Yea, I have seen it, + even I, if the seeing bring aught of profit. + Long has Life been to me; and this is its burthen: + lone against time abide Ti'âr and Yaramram, + And Kulâf and Badî' the mighty, and Dalfa', + yea, and Timâr, that towers aloft over Kubbah[1]; + And the Stars, marching all night in procession, + drooping westwards, as each hies forth to his setting: + Sure and steadfast their course: the underworld draws them + gently downwards, as maidens encircling the Pillar; + And we know not, whenas their lustre is vanished, + whether long be the ropes that bind them, or little. + Lone is 'Âmir, and naught is left of her goodness, + in the meadows of al-A'râf, but her dwellings-- + Ruined shadows of tents and penfolds and shelters, + bough from bough rent, and spoiled by wind and by weather. + Gone is 'Âmir, her ancients gone, all the wisest: + none remain but a folk whose war-mares are fillies, + Yet they slay them in every breach in our rampart-- + yea, and they that bestride them, true-hearted helpers, + They contemn not their kin when change comes upon them, + Nor do we scorn the ties of blood and of succor. + --Now on 'Âmir be peace, and praises, and blessing, + wherever be on earth her way--or her halting! + +[Footnote 1: The five names foregoing are those of mountains.] + + + + + A FAIR LADY + +From the 'Mu 'allakât of Antara': Translation of E.H. Palmer + + 'Twas then her beauties first enslaved my heart-- + Those glittering pearls and ruby lips, whose kiss + Was sweeter far than honey to the taste. + As when the merchant opes a precious box + Of perfume, such an odor from her breath + Comes toward me, harbinger of her approach; + Or like an untouched meadow, where the rain + Hath fallen freshly on the fragrant herbs + That carpet all its pure untrodden soil: + A meadow where the fragrant rain-drops fall + Like coins of silver in the quiet pools, + And irrigate it with perpetual streams; + A meadow where the sportive insects hum, + Like listless topers singing o'er their cups, + And ply their forelegs, like a man who tries + With maimèd hand to use the flint and steel. + + + + + THE DEATH OF 'ABDALLÂH + + AND WHAT MANNER OF MAN HE WAS + +From the original poem of Duraid, son of as-Simmah, of Jusharn: +Translation of C.J. Lyall. + + I warned them both, 'Ârid, and the men who went 'Ârid's way-- + the house of the Black Mother: yea, ye are all my witnesses, + I said to them: "Think--even now, two thousand are on your track, + all laden with sword and spear, their captains in Persian mail!" + But when they would hearken not, I followed their road, though I + knew well they were fools, and that I walked not in Wisdom's way. + For am not I but one of the Ghazîyah? and if they err + I err with my house; and if the Ghazîyah go right, so I. + I read them my rede, one day, at Mun'araj al-Liwa: + the morrow, at noon, they saw my counsel as I had seen. + A shout rose, and voices cried, "The horsemen have slain a knight!" + I said, "Is it 'Abdallâh, the man whom you say is slain?" + I sprang to his side: the spears had riddled his body through + as a weaver on outstretched web deftly plies the sharp-toothed comb. + I stood as a camel stands with fear in her heart, and seeks + the stuffed skin with eager mouth, and thinks--is her youngling + slain? + I plied spear above him till the riders had left their prey, + and over myself black blood flowed in a dusky tide. + I fought as a man who gives his life for his brother's life, + who knows that his time is short, that Death's doom above him hangs. + But know ye, if 'Abdallâh be dead, and his place a void, + no weakling unsure of hand, and no holder-back was he! + Alert, keen, his loins well girt, his leg to the middle bare, + unblemished and clean of limb, a climber to all things high; + No wailer before ill-luck; one mindful in all he did + to think how his work to-day would live in to-morrow's tale, + Content to bear hunger's pain though meat lay beneath his hand-- + to labor in ragged shirt that those whom he served might rest. + If Dearth laid her hand on him, and Famine devoured his store, + he gave but the gladlier what little to him they spared. + He dealt as a youth with Youth, until, when his head grew hoar, + and age gathered o'er his brow, to lightness he said, "Begone!" + Yea, somewhat it soothes my soul that never I said to him + "thou liest," nor grudged him aught of mine that he sought of me! + + + + ASH-SHANFARÀ OF AZD + +A picture of womanhood, from the 'Mufaddaliyât': Translation of C.J. +Lyall. + + Alas, Umm 'Amr set her face to depart and went: + gone is she, and when she sped, she left with us no farewell. + Her purpose was quickly shaped--no warning gave she to friends, + though there she had dwelt, hard-by, her camels all day with ours. + Yea, thus in our eyes she dwelt, from morning to noon and eve-- + she brought to an end her tale, and fleeted and left us lone. + So gone is Umaimah, gone! and leaves here a heart in pain: + my life was to yearn for her; and now its delight is fled. + She won me, whenas, shamefaced--no maid to let fall her veil, + no wanton to glance behind--she walked forth with steady tread; + Her eyes seek the ground, as though they looked for a thing lost + there; + she turns not to left or right--her answer is brief and low. + She rises before day dawns to carry her supper forth + to wives who have need--dear alms, when such gifts are few enow! + Afar from the voice of blame, her tent stands for all to see, + when many a woman's tent is pitched in the place of scorn. + No gossip to bring him shame from her does her husband dread-- + when mention is made of women, pure and unstained is she. + The day done, at eve glad comes he home to his eyes' delight: + he needs not to ask of her, "Say, where didst thou pass the day?"-- + And slender is she where meet, and full where it so beseems, + and tall and straight, a fairy shape, if such on earth there be. + And nightlong as we sat there, methought that the tent was roofed + above with basil-sprays, all fragrant in dewy eve-- + Sweet basil, from Halyah dale, its branches abloom and fresh, + that fills all the place with balm--no starveling of desert sands. + + + + ZEYNAB AT THE KA'BAH + +From 'Umar ibn Rabí'a's 'Love Poems': Translation of W. Gifford Palgrave + + Ah, for the throes of a heart sorely wounded! + Ah, for the eyes that have smit me with madness! + Gently she moved in the calmness of beauty, + Moved as the bough to the light breeze of morning. + Dazzled my eyes as they gazed, till before me + All was a mist and confusion of figures. + Ne'er had I sought her, ne'er had she sought me; + Fated the love, and the hour, and the meeting. + There I beheld her as she and her damsels + Paced 'twixt the temple and outer inclosure; + Damsels the fairest, the loveliest, gentlest, + Passing like slow-wandering heifers at evening; + Ever surrounding with comely observance + Her whom they honor, the peerless of women. + "Omar is near: let us mar his devotions, + Cross on his path that he needs must observe us; + Give him a signal, my sister, demurely." + "Signals I gave, but he marked not or heeded," + Answered the damsel, and hasted to meet me. + Ah, for that night by the vale of the sandhills! + Ah, for the dawn when in silence we parted! + He whom the morn may awake to her kisses + Drinks from the cup of the blessed in heaven. + + + + + THE UNVEILED MAID + +From 'Umar ibn Rabí'a's 'Love Poems': Translation of W. Gifford Palgrave + + In the valley of Mohassib I beheld her where she stood: + Caution bade me turn aside, but love forbade and fixed me there. + Was it sunlight? or the windows of a gleaming mosque at eve, + Lighted up for festal worship? or was all my fancy's dream? + Ah, those earrings! ah, that necklace! Naufel's daughter sure the + maid, + Or of Hashim's princely lineage, and the Servant of the Sun! + But a moment flashed the splendor, as the o'er-hasty handmaids drew + Round her with a jealous hand the jealous curtains of the tent. + Speech nor greeting passed between us; but she saw me, and I saw + Face the loveliest of all faces, hands the fairest of all hands. + Daughter of a better earth, and nurtured by a brighter sky; + Would I ne'er had seen thy beauty! Hope is fled, but love remains. + + + + FROM THE DÎWÂN OF AL-NÂBIGHAH + +A eulogy of the valor and culture of the men of Ghassân, written in time +of the poet's political exile from them: Translation of C. J. Lyall. + + Leave me alone, O Umaimah--alone with my sleepless pain-- + alone with the livelong night and the wearily lingering stars; + It draws on its length of gloom; methinks it will never end, + nor ever the Star-herd lead his flock to their folds of rest;-- + Alone with a breast whose griefs, that roamed far afield by day, + the darkness has brought all home: in legions they throng around. + A favor I have with 'Amr, a favor his father bore + toward me of old; a grace that carried no scorpion sting. + I swear (and my word is true--an oath that hath no reserve, + and naught in my heart is hid save fair thought of him, my friend)-- + If these twain his fathers were, who lie in their graves; the one + al-Jillik, the others al-Saidâ, by Hârib's side, + And Hârith, of Jafnah's line, the lord of his folk of old-- + yea, surely his might shall reach the home of his enemy! + In him hope is sure of help when men say--"The host is sped, + the horsemen of Ghassân's line unblemished, no hireling herd, + His cousins, all near of kin, their chief 'Amr, 'Âmir's son-- + a people are they whose might in battle shall never fail!" + When goes forth the host to war, above them in circles wheel + battalions of eagles, pointing the path to battalions more; + Their friendship is old and tried, fast comrades, in foray bred + to look unafraid on blood, as hounds to the chase well trained. + Behold them, how they sit there, behind where their armies meet, + watching with eyes askance, like elders in gray furs wrapt, + Intent; for they know full well that those whom they follow, when + the clash of the hosts shall come, will bear off the victory. + Ay, well is that custom known, a usage that time has proved + when lances are laid in rest on withers of steeds arow-- + Of steeds in the spear-play skilled, with lips for the fight drawn + back, + their bodies with wounds all scarred, some bleeding and some + half-healed. + And down leap the riders where the battle is strait and stern, + and spring in the face of Death like stallions amid the herd; + Between them they give and take deep draughts of the wine of doom + as their hands ply the white swords, thin and keen in the + smiting-edge. + In shards fall the morions burst by the fury of blow on blow, + and down to the eyebrows, cleft, fly shattered the skulls beneath. + In them no defect is found, save only that in their swords + are notches, a many, gained from smiting of host on host: + An heirloom of old, those blades, from the fight of Halîmah's day, + and many the mellay fierce that since has their temper proved; + Therewith do they cleave in twain the hauberk of double woof, + and kindle the rock beneath to fire, ere the stroke is done. + A nature is theirs--God gives the like to no other men-- + a wisdom that never sleeps, a bounty that never fails. + Their home is God's own land, His chosen of old; their faith + is steadfast. Their hope is set on naught but the world to come. + Their sandals are soft and fine, and girded with chastity, + they welcome with garlands sweet the dawn of the Feast of Palms. + There greets them when they come home full many a handmaid fine, + and ready, on trestles, hang the mantles of scarlet silk. + Yea, softly they wrap their limbs, well-knowing of wealth and ease, + in rich raiment, white-sleeved, green at the shoulder--in royal + guise. + They look not on Weal as men who know not that Woe comes, too: + they look not on evil days as though they would never mend. + + _Lo, this was my gift to Ghassân, what time I sought + My people; and all my paths were darkened, and strait my ways_. + + + + + NUSAIB + +The poem characterizes the separation of a wife and mother--a slave--from +her family: Translation of C.J. Lyall. + + They said last night--To-morrow at first of dawning, + or maybe at eventide, must Laila go!-- + My heart at the word lay helpless, as lies a Kat[=a] + in net night-long, and struggles with fast-bound wing. + Two nestlings she left alone, in a nest far distant, + a nest which the winds smite, tossing it to and fro. + They hear but the whistling breeze, and stretch necks to greet her; + but she they await--the end of her days is come! + So lies she, and neither gains in the night her longing, + nor brings her the morning any release from pain. + + + + VENGEANCE + +By al-Find, of the Zimman Tribe: Translation of C.J. Lyall + + Forgiveness had we for Hind's sons: + We said, "The men our brothers are; + The days may bring that yet again + They be the folk that once they were." + + But when the Ill stood clear and plain, + And naked Wrong was bold to brave, + And naught was left but bitter Hate-- + We paid them in the coin they gave. + + We strode as stalks a lion forth + At dawn, a lion wrathful-eyed; + Blows rained we, dealing shame on shame, + And humbling pomp and quelling pride. + + Too kind a man may be with fools, + And nerve them but to flout him more; + And Mischief oft may bring thee peace, + When Mildness works not Folly's cure. + + + + + PATIENCE + +From Ibrahîm, Son of Kunaif of Nabhan: Translation of C.J. Lyall + + Be patient: for free-born men to bear is the fairest thing, + And refuge against Time's wrong or help from his hurt is none; + And if it availed man aught to bow him to fluttering Fear, + Or if he could ward off hurt by humbling himself to Ill, + To bear with a valiant front the full brunt of every stroke + And onset of Fate were still the fairest and best of things. + But how much the more, when none outruns by a span his Doom, + And refuge from God's decree nor was nor will ever be, + And sooth, if the changing Days have wrought us--their wonted way-- + A lot mixed of weal and woe, yet one thing they could not do: + They have not made soft or weak the stock of our sturdy spear; + They have not abased our hearts to doing of deeds of shame. + We offer to bear their weight, a handful of noble souls: + Though laden beyond all weight of man, they uplift the load. + So shield we with Patience fair our souls from the stroke of Shame; + Our honors are whole and sound, though others be lean enow. + + + + ABU SAKHR + +On a lost love. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of C.J. Lyall + + By him who brings weeping and laughter + who deals Death and Life as He wills-- + she left me to envy the wild deer + that graze twain and twain without fear! + Oh, love of her, heighten my heart's pain, + and strengthen the pang every night; + oh, comfort that days bring, forgetting + --the last of all days be thy tryst! + I marveled how swiftly the time sped + between us, the moment we met; + but when that brief moment was ended + how wearily dragged he his feet! + + + AN ADDRESS TO THE BELOVED + +By Abu l-'Ata of Sind. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of C.J. Lyall + + Of thee did I dream, while spears between us were quivering-- + and sooth, of our blood full deep had drunken the tawny shafts! + I know not--by Heaven I swear, and here is the word I say!-- + this pang, is it love-sickness, or wrought by a spell from thee? + If it be a spell, then grant me grace of thy love-longing-- + if other the sickness be, then none is the guilt of thine! + + + A FORAY + +By Ja'far ibn 'Ulbah. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of C.J. Lyall + + That even when, under Sábhal's twin peaks, upon us drave + the horsemen, troop upon troop, and the foeman pressed us sore-- + They said to us, "Two things lie before you; now must ye choose + the points of the spears couched at ye; or if ye will not, chains!" + We answered them, "Yea this thing may fall to _you_ after the fight, + when men shall be left on ground, and none shall arise again; + But we know not, if we quail before the assault of Death, + how much may be left of life--the goal is too dim to see." + We rode to the strait of battle; there cleared us a space, around + the white swords in our right hands which the smiths had furbished + fair. + On them fell the edge of my blade, on that day of Sabhal date; + And mine was the share thereof, wherever my fingers closed. + + + FATALITY + +By Katari, ibn al-Fujâ'ah, ibn Ma'zin. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of +C.J. Lyall. + + I said to her, when she fled in amaze and breathless + before the array of battle, "Why dost thou tremble? + Yea, if but a day of Life thou shouldst beg with weeping, + beyond what thy Doom appoints, thou wouldst not gain it! + Be still, then; and face the onset of Death, high-hearted, + for none upon earth shall win to abide forever. + No raiment of praise the cloak of old age and weakness; + none such for the coward who bows like a reed in the tempest. + The pathway of death is set for all men to travel. + the crier of Death proclaims through the earth his empire. + Who dies not when young and sound, dies old and weary-- + cut off in his length of days from all love and kindness; + And what for a man is left of delight of living,-- + past use--flung away--a worthless and worn-out chattel?" + + + IMPLACABILITY + +By al-Fadl, ibn al-Abbas, ibn Utbah. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of +C.J. Lyall. + + Sons of our uncle, peace! Cousins of ours, be still! + drag not to light from its grave the strife that we buried there. + Hope not for honor from us, while ye heap upon us shame, + or think that we shall forbear from vexing when ye vex us. + Sons of our uncle, peace! lay not our rancor raw; + walk now gently awhile, as once ye were wont to go. + Ay, God knows that we, we love you not, in sooth! + and that we blame ye not that ye have no love for us. + Each of us has his ground for the loathing his fellow moves: + a grace it is from the Lord that we hate ye--ye us! + + + PARENTAL AFFECTION + +A poem by Hittân ibn al-Mu'allà of Tayyi. From the 'Hamásah': Translation +of C.J. Lyall. + + Fortune has brought me down--her wonted way-- + from stature high and great, to low estate; + Fortune has rent away my plenteous store; + of all my wealth, honor alone is left. + Fortune has turned my joy to tears--how oft + did Fortune make me laugh with what she gave! + But for these girls, the _katá's_ downy brood, + unkindly thrust from door to door as hard-- + Far would I roam, and wide, to seek my bread, + in earth, that has no lack of breadth and length. + Nay, but our children in our midst, what else + but our hearts are they, walking on the ground? + If but the breeze blow harsh on one of them, + mine eye says "no" to slumber, all night long! + + + + + A TRIBESMAN'S VALOR + +Poem by Sa'd, son of Malik, of the Kais Tribe: Translation of C. J. Lyall + + How evil a thing is war, that bows men to shameful rest! + War burns away in her blaze all glory and boasting of men: + Naught stands but the valiant heart to face pain--the hard-hoofed + steed + The ring-mail set close and firm, the nail-crowned helms and the + spears; + And onset, again after rout, when men shrink from the serried array-- + Then, then, fall away all the vile, the hirelings! and shame is + strong! + War girds up her skirts before them, and evil unmixed is bare. + For their hearts were for maidens veiled, not for driving the gathered + spoil: + Yea, evil the heirs we leave, sons of Yakshar and al-Laksh! + + But let flee her fires who will, no flinching for me, son of Kais! + O children of Kais! stand firm before her! gain peace or give! + Who seeks flight before her fear, his Doom stands and bars the road. + Away! Death allows no quitting of place, and brands are bare! + What is life for us, when the uplands and valleys are ours no more? + Ah, where are the mighty now? the spears and generous hands? + + + + FROM THE QU'RAN + + Translation of George Sale + +CHAPTER XXXV.: INTITLED "THE CREATOR." REVEALED AT MECCA + +In the name of the most merciful GOD. Praise be unto GOD, the creator of +heaven and earth; who maketh the angels _his_ messengers, furnished with +two, and three, and four _pair_ of wings: GOD maketh what addition he +pleaseth unto _his_ creatures; for GOD _is_ almighty. The mercy which +GOD shall freely bestow on mankind, _there is_ none who can withhold; +and what he shall withhold, _there is_ none who can bestow, besides him: +and he _is_ the mighty, the wise. O men, remember the favor of GOD +towards you: is there any creator, besides GOD, who provideth food for +you from heaven and earth? _There is_ no GOD but he: how therefore are +ye turned aside _from acknowledging his unity?_ If they accuse thee of +imposture, apostles before thee have also been accused of imposture; and +unto GOD shall _all_ things return. O men, verily the promise of GOD is +true: let not therefore the present life deceive you, neither let the +deceiver deceive you concerning GOD: for Satan _is_ an enemy unto you; +wherefore hold him for an enemy: he only inviteth his confederates to +be the inhabitants of hell. For those who believe not _there is +prepared_ a severe torment: but for those who shall believe and do that +which is right, _is prepared_ mercy and a great reward. Shall he +therefore for whom his evil work hath been prepared, and who imagineth +it to be good, _be as he who is rightly disposed, and discerneth the +truth_? Verily GOD will cause to err whom he pleaseth, and will direct +whom he pleaseth. Let not thy soul therefore be spent in sighs for their +sakes, _on account of their obstinacy_; for GOD well knoweth that which +they do. _It is God_ who sendeth the winds, and raiseth a cloud: and we +drive the same unto a dead country, and thereby quicken the earth after +it hath been dead; so _shall_ the resurrection _be_. Whoever desireth +excellence; unto GOD _doth_ all excellence _belong_: unto him ascendeth +the good speech; and the righteous work will he exalt. But as for them +who devise wicked _plots_, they shall suffer a severe punishment; and +the device of those _men_ shall be rendered vain. GOD created you +_first_ of the dust, and afterwards of seed: and he hath made you man +and wife. No female conceiveth, or bringeth forth, but with his +knowledge. Nor is any thing added unto the age of him whose life is +prolonged, neither is any thing diminished from his age, but _the same +is written_ in the book _of God's decrees_. Verily this is easy with +GOD. The two seas are not to be held in comparison: this _is_ fresh +_and_ sweet, pleasant to drink; but that _is_ salt _and_ bitter: yet out +of each of them ye eat fish, and take ornaments for you to wear. Thou +seest the ships also ploughing _the waves_ thereof, that ye may seek _to +enrich yourselves by commerce_, of the abundance _of God_: peradventure +ye will be thankful. He causeth the night to succeed the day, and he +causeth the day to succeed the night; and he obligeth the sun and the +moon to perform their services: each _of them_ runneth an appointed +course. This is GOD, your LORD: his _is_ the kingdom. But the _idols_ +which ye invoke besides him have not the power even over the skin of a +date-stone: if ye invoke them, they will not hear your calling; and +although they should hear, yet they would not answer you. On the day of +resurrection they shall disclaim your having associated _them with God_: +and none shall declare unto thee _the truth_, like one who is well +acquainted _therewith_. O men, ye have need of GOD; but GOD is +self-sufficient, and to be praised. If he pleaseth, he can take you +away, and produce a new creature _in your stead_: neither _will_ this +_be_ difficult with GOD. A burdened _soul_ shall not bear the burden of +another: and if a heavy-burdened _soul_ call _on another_ to bear part +of its _burden_, no part thereof shall be borne _by the person who shall +be called on_, although he be _ever so nearly_ related. Thou shalt +admonish those who fear their LORD in secret, and are constant at +prayer: and whoever cleanseth himself _from the guilt of disobedience_, +cleanseth himself to _the advantage_ of his own soul; for all shall be +assembled before GOD _at the last day_. The blind and the seeing shall +not be held equal; neither darkness and light; nor the cool shade and +the scorching wind: neither shall the living and the dead be held equal. +GOD shall cause him to hear whom he pleaseth: but thou shalt not make +those to hear who are in _their_ graves. Thou _art_ no other than a +preacher; verily we have sent thee with truth, a bearer of good tidings, +and a denouncer of threats. + +_There hath been_ no nation, but a preacher hath in past times been +_conversant_ among them: if they charge thee with imposture, they who +were before them likewise charged _their apostles_ with imposture. Their +apostles came unto them with evident _miracles_, and with _divine_ +writings, and with the Enlightening Book: afterwards I chastised those +who were unbelievers; and how _severe_ was my vengeance! Dost thou not +see that GOD sendeth down rain from heaven, and that we thereby produce +fruits of various colors? In the mountains also _there are_ some tracts +white and red, of various colors; and _others are_ of a deep black: and +of men, and beasts, and cattle _there are_ whose colors _are_ in like +manner various. Such only of his servants fear GOD as are endued with +understanding: verily GOD _is_ mighty _and_ ready to forgive. Verily +they who read the book of GOD, and are constant at prayer, and give alms +out of what we have bestowed on them, _both_ in secret and openly, hope +for a merchandise which shall not perish: that _God_ may fully pay them +their wages, and make them a _superabundant_ addition of his liberality; +for he _is_ ready to forgive _the faults of his servants, and_ to +requite _their endeavors_. That which we have revealed unto thee of the +book _of the Korân_ is the truth, confirming the _scriptures_ which +_were revealed_ before it: for GOD knoweth _and_ regardeth his servants. +And we have given the book _of the Korân_ in heritage unto such of our +servants as we have chosen: of them _there is one_ who injureth his own +soul; and _there is another_ of them who keepeth the middle way; and +_there is another_ of them who outstrippeth _others_ in good _works_, by +the permission of GOD. This is the great excellence. They shall be +introduced into gardens of perpetual abode; they shall be adorned +therein with bracelets of gold, and pearls, and their clothing therein +_shall be_ of silk: and they shall say, Praise be unto GOD, who hath +taken away sorrow from us! verily our LORD _is_ ready to forgive _the +sinners_, and to reward _the obedient_: who hath caused us to take up +our rest in a dwelling of _eternal_ stability, through his bounty, +wherein no labor shall touch us, neither shall any weariness affect us. +But for the unbelievers _is prepared_ the fire of hell: it shall not be +decreed them to die _a second time_; neither shall _any part_ of the +punishment thereof be made lighter unto them. Thus shall every infidel +be rewarded. And they shall cry out aloud in _hell, saying,_ LORD, take +us hence, and we will work righteousness, and not what we have +_formerly_ wrought. _But it shall be answered them_, Did we not grant +you lives of length sufficient, that whoever would be warned might be +warned therein; and did not the preacher come unto you? Taste therefore +_the pains of hell_. And the unjust shall have no protector. Verily GOD +knoweth the secrets _both_ of heaven and earth, for he knoweth the +innermost parts of the breasts _of men_. It is he who hath made you to +succeed in the earth. Whoever shall disbelieve, on him _be_ his +unbelief; and their unbelief shall only gain the unbelievers greater +indignation in the sight of their LORD; and their unbelief shall only +increase the perdition of the unbelievers. Say, what think ye of your +deities which ye invoke besides GOD? Show me what _part_ of the earth +they have created. Or had they any share in _the creation of_ the +heavens? Have we given unto _the idolaters_ any book _of revelations_, +so that they _may rely_ on any proof therefrom _to authorize their +practice?_ Nay; but the ungodly make unto one another only deceitful +promises. Verily GOD sustaineth the heavens and the earth, lest they +fail: and if they should fail, none could support the same besides him; +he is gracious _and_ merciful. _The Koreish_ swore by GOD, with a most +solemn oath, that if a preacher had come unto them, they would surely +have been more _willingly_ directed than any nation: but now a preacher +is come unto them, it hath only increased in them _their_ aversion _from +the truth, their_ arrogance in the earth, and _their_ contriving of +evil; but the contrivance of evil shall only encompass the authors +thereof. Do they expect any other than the punishment awarded against +the _unbelievers_ of former times? For thou shalt not find any change in +the ordinance of GOD; neither shalt thou find any variation in the +ordinance of GOD. Have they not gone through the earth, and seen what +hath been the end of those who were before them; although they were more +mighty in strength than they? GOD is not to be frustrated by anything +either in heaven or on earth; for he is wise _and_ powerful. If GOD +should punish men according to what they deserve, he would not leave on +the back of _the earth_ so much as a beast; but he respiteth them to a +determined time; and when their time shall come, verily GOD will regard +his servants. + + +CHAPTER LV.: INTITLED "THE MERCIFUL." REVEALED AT MECCA + +In the name of the most merciful GOD. The Merciful hath taught _his +servant_ the Korân. He created man: he hath taught him distinct speech. +The sun and the moon _run their courses_ according to a certain rule: +and the vegetables which creep on the ground, and the trees submit _to +his disposition_. He also raised the heaven; and he appointed the +balance, that ye should not transgress in respect to the balance: +wherefore observe a just weight; and diminish not the balance. And the +earth hath he prepared for living creatures: therein _are various_ +fruits, and palm-trees bearing sheaths of flowers; and grain having +chaff, and leaves. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye +ungratefully deny? He created man of dried clay like an earthen vessel: +but he created the genii of fire clear from smoke. Which, therefore, of +your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? _He is_ the LORD of the +east, and the LORD of the west. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S +benefits will ye ungratefully deny? He hath let loose the two seas, that +they meet each another: between them _is placed_ a bar which they cannot +pass. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully +deny? From them are taken forth unions and lesser pearls. Which, +therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? His also +_are_ the ships, carrying their sails aloft in the sea like mountains. +Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? +Every _creature_ which _liveth_ on _the earth is_ subject to decay: but +the glorious and honorable countenance of thy LORD shall remain _for +ever_. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully +deny? Unto him do all _creatures_ which _are_ in heaven and earth make +petition; every day _is_ he _employed_ in _some new_ work. Which, +therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? We will +surely attend to _judge_ you, O men and genii, _at the last day_. Which, +therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? O ye +collective body of genii and men, if ye be able to pass out of the +confines of heaven and earth, pass forth: ye shall not pass forth but by +absolute power. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye +ungratefully deny? A flame of fire without smoke, and a smoke without +flame shall be sent down upon you; and ye shall not be able to defend +yourselves _therefrom_. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will +ye ungratefully deny? And when the heaven shall be rent in sunder, and +shall become _red as_ a rose, _and shall melt_ like ointment: (Which, +therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny?) On that +day neither man nor genius shall be asked concerning his sin. Which, +therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? The wicked +shall be known by their marks; and they shall be taken by the forelocks, +and the feet, _and shall be cast into hell_. Which, therefore, of your +LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? This _is_ hell which the +wicked deny as a falsehood: they shall pass to and fro between the same +and hot boiling water. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye +ungratefully deny? But for him who dreadeth the tribunal of his LORD +_are prepared_ two gardens: (Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits +will ye ungratefully deny?) In each of them _shall be_ two fountains +flowing. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully +deny? In each of them _shall there be_ of every fruit two kinds. Which, +therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? They shall +repose on couches, the linings whereof _shall be_ of thick silk +interwoven with gold; and the fruit of the two gardens _shall be_ near +at hand _to gather_. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye +ungratefully deny? Therein _shall receive them beauteous damsels_, +refraining their eyes _from beholding any besides their spouses_: whom +no man shall have deflowered before them, neither any Jinn: (Which, +therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny?) _Having +complexions_ like rubies and pearls. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S +benefits will ye ungratefully deny? _Shall_ the reward of good works +_be_ any other good? Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye +ungratefully deny? And besides these there _shall be_ two _other_ +gardens: (Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye +ungratefully deny?) Of a dark green. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S +benefits will ye ungratefully deny? In each of them _shall be_ two +fountains pouring forth plenty of water. Which, therefore, of your +LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? In each of them _shall be_ +fruits, and palm-trees, and pomegranates. Which, therefore, of your +LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Therein _shall be_ agreeable +and beauteous _damsels_: Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will +ye ungratefully deny? Whom no man shall have deflowered before _their +destined spouses_, nor any Jinn. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S +benefits will ye ungratefully deny? _Therein shall they delight +themselves_, lying on green cushions and beautiful carpets. Which, +therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Blessed be +the name of thy LORD, possessed of glory and honor! + + +CHAPTER LXXXIV.: INTITLED "THE RENDING IN SUNDER." REVEALED AT MECCA + +In the name of the most merciful GOD. When the heaven shall be rent in +sunder, and shall obey its LORD, and shall be capable _thereof_; and +when the earth shall be stretched out, and shall cast forth that which +_is_ therein, and shall remain empty, and shall obey its LORD, and shall +be capable _thereof_: O man, verily laboring thou laborest to _meet_ thy +LORD, and thou shalt meet him. And he who shall have his book given into +his right hand shall be called to an easy account, and shall turn unto +his family with joy: but he who shall have his book given him behind his +back shall invoke destruction _to fall upon him_, and he shall be sent +into hell to be burned; because he rejoiced insolently amidst his family +_on earth_. Verily he thought he should never return _unto God_: yea +verily, but his LORD beheld him. Wherefore I swear by the redness of the +sky after sunset, and by the night, and the _animals_ which it driveth +together, and by the moon when she is in the full; ye shall surely be +transferred _successively_ from state to state. What _aileth_ them, +therefore, that they believe not _the resurrection_; and that, when the +Korân is read unto them, they worship not? Yea: the unbelievers accuse +_the same_ of imposture: but GOD well knoweth the _malice_ which they +keep hidden _in their breasts_. Wherefore denounce unto them a grievous +punishment, except those who believe and do good works: for them _is +prepared_ a never-failing reward. + + + THE PRAYER OF AL-HARIRI + +From the 'Makamat' of al-Hariri of Basra: Translation of Theodore Preston + + We praise thee, O God, + For whatever perspicuity of language thou hast taught us, + And whatever eloquence thou hast inspired us with, + As we praise thee + For the bounty which thou hast diffused, + And the mercy which thou hast spread abroad: + And we pray thee to guard us + From extravagant expressions and frivolous superfluities + As we pray Thee to guard us + From the shame of incapacity and the disgrace of hesitation: + And we entreat thee to exempt us from temptation + By the flattery of the admirer or connivance of the indulgent, + As we entreat thee to exempt us from exposure + To the slight of the detractor or aspersion of the defamer: + And we ask thy forgiveness + Should our frailties betray us into ambiguities, + As we ask thy forgiveness + Should our steps advance to the verge of improprieties: + And we beg thee freely to bestow + Propitious succor to lead us aright, + And a heart turning in unison with truth, + And a language adorned with veracity, + And style supported by conclusiveness, + And accuracy that may exclude incorrectness, + And firmness of purpose that may overcome caprice, + And sagacity whereby we may attain discrimination; + That thou wilt aid us by thy guidance unto right conceptions, + And enable us with thy help to express them with clearness, + And thou wilt guard us from error in narration, + And keep us from folly even in pleasantry, + So that we may be safe from the censure of sarcastic tongues, + And secure from the fatal effects of false ornament, + And may not resort to any improper source, + And occupy no position that would entail regret, + Nor be assailed by any ill consequences or blame, + Nor be constrained to apology for inconsideration. + O God, fulfill for us this our desire, + And put us in possession of this our earnest wish, + And exclude us not from thy ample shade, + Nor leave us to become the prey of the devourer: + For we stretch to thee the hand of entreaty, + And profess entire submission to thee, and contrition of spirit, + And seek with humble supplication and appliances of hope + The descent of thy vast grace and comprehensive bounty. + + + + THE WORDS OF HARETH IBN-HAMMAM + +From the 'Makamat' of al-Hariri of Barra: Translation of Theodore Preston + + On a night whose aspect displayed both light and shade, + And whose moon was like a magic circlet of silver, + I was engaged in evening conversation at Koufa + With companions who had been nourished on the milk of eloquence, + So the charms of conversation fascinated us, + While wakefulness still prevailed among us, + Until the moon had at length disappeared in the West. + But when the gloom of night had thus drawn its curtain, + And nothing but slumber remained abroad, + We heard from the door the low call of a benighted traveler, + And then followed the knock of one seeking admission; + And we answered, "Who comes here this darksome night?" + And the stranger replied:-- + + "Listen ye who here are dwelling! + May you so be kept from ill! + So may mischief ne'er befall you, + Long as life your breast shall fill! + Gloom of dismal night and dreary + Drives a wretch to seek your door, + Whose disheveled hoary tresses + All with dust are sprinkled o'er; + Who, though destitute and lonely, + Far has roamed on hill and dale, + Till his form became thus crooked, + And his cheek thus deadly pale; + Who, though faint as slender crescent, + Ventures here for aid to sue, + Hospitable meal and shelter + Claiming first of all from you. + Welcome then to food and dwelling + One so worthy both to share, + Sure to prove content and thankful, + Sure to laud your friendly care." + + Fascinated then by the sweetness of his language and delivery, + And readily inferring what this prelude betokened, + We hasted to open the door, and received him with welcome, + Saying to the servant, "Hie! Hie! Bring whatever is ready!" + But the stranger said, "By Him who brought me to your abode, + I will not taste of your hospitality, unless you pledge to me + That you will not permit me to be an incumbrance to you, + Nor impose on yourselves necessity of eating on my account." + + * * * * * + + Now it was just as if he had been informed of our wishes, + Or had shot from the same bow as our sentiments; + So we gratified him by acceding to the condition, + And highly commended him for his accommodating disposition. + But when the servant had produced what was ready, + And the candle was lighted up in the midst of us, + I regarded him attentively, and lo! it was Abu-Zeid; + Whereupon I addressed my companions in these words:-- + "May you have joy of the guest who has repaired to you: + For though the moon of the heavens has set, + The full moon of poetry has arisen; + And though the moon of the eclipse has disappeared, + The full moon of eloquence has shone forth." + So the wine of joy infused itself into them, + And sleep flew away from the corners of their eyes, + And they rejected the slumber which they had contemplated, + And began to resume the pleasantry which they had laid aside, + While Abu-Zeid remained intent on the business in hand. + But as soon as he desired the removal of what was before him, + I said to him, "Entertain us with one of thy strange anecdotes, + Or with an account of one of thy wonderful journeys." + And he said:--"The result of long journeys brought me to this land, + Myself being in a state of hunger and distress, + And my wallet light as the heart of the mother of Moses; + So I arose, when dark night had settled on the world, + Though with weary feet, to seek a lodging, or obtain a loaf; + Till, being driven on by the instigation of hunger, + And by fate, so justly called 'the parent of adventures,' + I stood at the door of a house and improvised these words:-- + + "'Inmates of this abode, all hail! all hail! + Long may you live in plenty's verdant vale. + Oh, grant your aid to one by toil opprest, + Way-worn, benighted, destitute, distrest; + Whose tortured entrails only hunger hold + (For since he tasted food two days are told); + A wretch who finds not where to lay his head, + Though brooding night her weary wing hath spread, + But roams in anxious hope a friend to meet, + Whose bounty, like a spring of water sweet, + May heal his woes; a friend who straight will say, + "Come in! 'Tis time thy staff aside to lay."' + + "But there came out to me a boy in a short tunic, who said:-- + + "'By Him who hospitable rites ordained, + And first of all, and best, those rites maintained, + I swear that friendly converse and a home + Is all we have for those who nightly roam." + + "And I replied, 'What can I do with an empty house, + And a host who is himself thus utterly destitute? + But what is thy name, boy? for thy intelligence charms me.' + He replied, 'My name is Zeid, and I was reared at Faid; + And my mother Barrah (who is such as her name implies), + Told me she married one of the nobles of Serong and Ghassân, + Who deserted her stealthily, and there was an end of him.' + Now I knew by these distinct signs that he was my child, + But my poverty deterred me from discovering myself to him." + + Then we asked if he wished to take his son to live with him; + And he replied, "If only my purse were heavy enough, + It would be easy for me to undertake the charge of him." + So we severally undertook to contribute a portion of it, + Whereupon he returned thanks for this our bounty, + And was so profusely lavish in his acknowledgments, + That we thought his expression of gratitude excessive. + And as soon as he had collected the coin into his scrip, + He looked at me as the deceiver looks at the deceived, + And laughed heartily, and then indited these lines:-- + + "O thou who, deceived + By a tale, hast believed + A mirage to be truly a lake, + Though I ne'er had expected + My fraud undetected, + Or doubtful my meaning to make! + + I confess that I lied + When I said that my bride + And my first-born were Barrah and Zeid; + But guile is my part, + And deception my art, + And by these are my gains ever made. + + Such schemes I devise + That the cunning and wise + Never practiced the like or conceived; + Nor Asmai nor Komait + Any wonders relate + Like those that my wiles have achieved. + + But if these I disdain, + I abandon my gain, + And by fortune at once am refused: + Then pardon their use, + And accept my excuse, + Nor of guilt let my guile be accused." + + Then he took leave of me, and went away from me, + Leaving in my heart the embers of lasting regret. + + + +THE CALIPH OMAR BIN ABD AL-AZIZ AND THE POETS + +A Semi-Poetical Tale: Translation of Sir Richard Burton, in +'Supplemental Nights to the Book of The Thousand Nights and A Night' + +It is said that when the Caliphate devolved on Omar bin Abd al-Aziz, (of +whom Allah accept!) the poets resorted to him, as they had been used to +resort to the Caliphs before him, and abode at his door days and days; +but he suffered them not to enter till there came to him 'Adi bin Artah, +who stood high in esteem with him. Jarir [another poet] accosted him, +and begged him to crave admission for them to the presence; so 'Adi +answered, "'Tis well," and going in to Omar, said to him, "The poets are +at thy door, and have been there days and days; yet hast thou not given +them leave to enter, albeit their sayings abide, and their arrows from +the mark never fly wide." Quoth Omar, "What have I to do with the +poets?" And quoth 'Adi, "O Commander of the Faithful, the Prophet +(_Abhak!_) was praised by a poet, and gave him largesse--and in him is +an exemplar to every Moslem." Quoth Omar, "And who praised him?" And +quoth 'Adi, "Abbás bin Mirdás praised him, and he clad him with a suit +and said, 'O Generosity! Cut off from me his tongue!'" Asked the Caliph, +"Dost thou remember what he said?" And 'Adi answered, "Yes." Rejoined +Omar, "Then repeat it;" so 'Adi repeated:-- + + "I saw thee, O thou best of the human race, + Bring out a book which brought to graceless, grace. + Thou showedst righteous road to men astray + From right, when darkest wrong had ta'en its place:-- + Thou with Islâm didst light the gloomiest way, + Quenching with proof live coals of frowardness: + I own for Prophet, my Mohammed's self, + and men's award upon his word we base. + Thou madest straight the path that crooked ran + Where in old days foul growth o'ergrew its face. + Exalt be thou in Joy's empyrean! + And Allah's glory ever grow apace!" + +"And indeed," continued 'Adi, "this Elegy on the Prophet (_Abhak!_) is +well known, and to comment on it would be tedious." + +Quoth Omar, "Who [of the poets] is at the door?" And quoth 'Adi, "Among +them is Omar ibn Rabí'ah, the Korashi;" whereupon the Caliph cried, "May +Allah show him no favor, neither quicken him! Was it not he who spoke +impiously [in praising his love]?-- + + 'Could I in my clay-bed [the grave] with Ialma repose, + There to me were better than Heaven or Hell!' + +Had he not [continued the Caliph] been the enemy of Allah, he had wished +for her in this world; so that he might, after, repent and return to +righteous dealing. By Allah! he shall not come in to me! Who is at the +door other than he?" + +Quoth 'Adi, "Jamil bin Ma'mar al-Uzri is at the door." And quoth Omar, +"'Tis he who saith in one of his love-Elegies:-- + + 'Would Heaven, conjoint we lived! and if I die, + Death only grant me a grave within her grave! + For I'd no longer deign to live my life + If told, "Upon her head is laid the pave."' + +Quoth Omar, "Away with him from me! Who is at the door?" And quoth 'Adi, +"Kutthayir 'Azzah": whereupon Omar cried, "'Tis he who saith in one of +his [impious] Odes:-- + + 'Some talk of faith and creed and nothing else, + And wait for pains of Hell in prayer-seat; + But did they hear what I from Azzah heard, + They'd make prostration, fearful, at her feet.' + +Leave the mention of _him_. Who is at the door?" Quoth 'Adi, "Al-Ahwas +al-Ansari." Cried Omar, "Allah Almighty put him away, and estrange him +from His mercy! Is it not he who said, berhyming on a Medinite's slave +girl, so that she might outlive her master:-- + + Allah be judge betwixt me and her lord + Whoever flies with her--and I pursue.' + +He shall not come in to me! Who is at the door other than he?" 'Adi +replied, "Hammam bin Ghalib al-Farazdak." And Omar said, "Tis he who +glories in wickedness.... He shall not come in to me! Who is at the door +other than he?" 'Adi replied, "Al-Akhtal al-Taghlibi." And Omar said, +"He is the [godless] miscreant who saith in his singing:-- + + 'Ramazan I ne'er fasted in lifetime; nay + I ate flesh in public at undurn day! + Nor chid I the fair, save in word of love. + Nor seek Meccah's plain in salvation-way: + Nor stand I praying, like rest, who cry, + "Hie salvation-wards!" at the dawn's first ray....' + +By Allah! he treadeth no carpet of mine. Who is at the door other than +he?" Said 'Adi, "Jarir Ibn al-Khatafah." And Omar cried, "Tis he +who saith:-- + + 'But for ill-spying glances, had our eyes espied + Eyes of the antelope, and ringlets of the Reems! + A Huntress of the eyes, by night-time came; and I + cried, "Turn in peace! No time for visit this, meseems."' + +But if it must be, and no help, admit Jarir." So 'Adi went forth and +admitted Jarir, who entered saying:-- + + 'Yea, He who sent Mohammed unto men. + A just successor of Islam assigned. + His ruth and his justice all mankind embrace. + To daunt the bad and stablish well-designed. + Verily now, I look to present good, + for man hath ever transient weal in mind.' + +Quoth Omar, "O Jarir! keep the fear of Allah before thine eyes, and say +naught save the sooth." And Jarir recited these couplets:-- + + 'How many widows loose the hair, in far Yamamah land, + How many an orphan there abides, feeble of voice and eye, + Since faredst thou, who wast to them instead of father lost + when they like nestled fledglings were, sans power to creep or fly. + And now we hope--since broke the clouds their word and troth with us-- + Hope from the Caliph's grace to gain a rain that ne'er shall dry.' + +When the Caliph heard this, he said, "By Allah, O Jarir! Omar possesseth +but an hundred dirhams. Ho boy! do thou give them to him!" Moreover, he +gifted Jarir with the ornaments of his sword; and Jarir went forth to +the other poets, who asked him, "What is behind thee?" ["What is thy +news?"] and he answered, "A man who giveth to the poor, and who denieth +the poets; and with him I am well pleased." + + + + +DOMINIQUE FRANÇOIS ARAGO + +(1786-1853) + +BY EDWARD S. HOLDEN + + +Dominique François Arago was born February 26th, 1786, near Perpignan, +in the Eastern Pyrenees, where his father held the position of Treasurer +of the Mint. He entered the École Polytechnique in Paris after a +brilliant examination, and held the first places throughout the course. +In 1806 he was sent to Valencia in Spain, and to the neighboring island +of Iviza, to make the astronomical observations for prolonging the arc +of the meridian from Dunkirk southward, in order to supply the basis for +the metric system. + +[Illustration: D. FR. ARAGO] + +Here begin his extraordinary adventures, which are told with inimitable +spirit and vigor in his 'Autobiography.' Arago's work required him to +occupy stations on the summits of the highest peaks in the mountains of +southeastern Spain. The peasants were densely ignorant and hostile to +all foreigners, so that an escort of troops was required in many of his +journeys. At some stations he made friends of the bandits of the +neighborhood, and carried on his observations under their protection, as +it were. In 1807 the tribunal of the Inquisition existed in Valencia; +and Arago was witness to the trial and punishment of a pretended +sorceress,--and this, as he says, in one of the principal towns of +Spain, the seat of a celebrated university. Yet the worst criminals +lived unmolested in the cathedrals, for the "right of asylum" was still +in force. His geodetic observations were mysteries to the +inhabitants, and his signals on the mountain top were believed to be +part of the work of a French spy. Just at this time hostilities broke +out between France and Spain, and the astronomer was obliged to flee +disguised as a Majorcan peasant, carrying his precious papers with him. +His knowledge of the Majorcan language saved him, and he reached a +Spanish prison with only a slight wound from a dagger. It is the first +recorded instance, he says, of a fugitive flying to a dungeon for +safety. In this prison, under the care of Spanish officers, Arago found +sufficient occupation in calculating observations which he had made; in +reading the accounts in the Spanish journals of his own execution at +Valencia; and in listening to rumors that it was proposed (by a Spanish +monk) to do away with the French prisoner by poisoning his food. + +The Spanish officer in charge of the prisoners was induced to connive at +the escape of Arago and M. Berthémie (an aide-de-camp of Napoleon); and +on the 28th of July, 1808, they stole away from the coast of Spain in a +small boat with three sailors, and arrived at Algiers on the 3d of +August. Here the French consul procured them two false passports, which +transformed the Frenchmen into strolling merchants from Schwekat and +Leoben. They boarded an Algerian vessel and set off. Let Arago describe +the crew and cargo:-- + +"The vessel belonged to the Emir of Seca. The commander was a Greek +captain named Spiro Calligero. Among the passengers were five members of +the family superseded by the Bakri as kings of the Jews; two Maroccan +ostrich-feather merchants; Captain Krog from Bergen in Norway; two lions +sent by the Dey of Algiers as presents to the Emperor Napoleon; and a +great number of monkeys." + +As they entered the Golfe du Lion their ship was captured by a Spanish +corsair and taken to Rosas. Worst of all, a former Spanish servant of +Arago's--Pablo--was a sailor in the corsair's crew! At Rosas the +prisoners were brought before an officer for interrogation. It was now +Arago's turn. The officer begins:-- + +"'Who are you?' + +"'A poor traveling merchant.' + +"'From whence do you come?' + +"'From a country where you certainly have never been.' + +"'Well--from what country?' + +"I feared to answer; for the passports (steeped in vinegar to prevent +infection) were in the officer's hands, and I had entirely forgotten +whether I was from Schwekat or from Leoben. Finally I answered at a +chance, 'I am from Schwekat;' fortunately this answer agreed with +the passport. + +"'You're from Schwekat about as much as I am,' said the officer: 'you're +a Spaniard, and a Spaniard from Valencia to boot, as I can tell by +your accent.' + +"'Sir, you are inclined to punish me simply because I have by nature +the gift of languages. I readily learn the dialects of the various +countries where I carry on my trade. For example, I know the dialect +of Iviza.' + +"'Well, I will take you at your word. Here is a soldier who comes from +Iviza. Talk to him.' + +"'Very well; I will even sing the goat-song.' + +"The verses of this song (if one may call them verses) are separated by +the imitated bleatings of the goat. I began at once, with an audacity +which even now astonishes me, to intone the song which all the shepherds +in Iviza sing:-- + + Ah graciada Señora, + Una canzo bouil canta, + Bè bè bè bè. + No sera gaiva pulida, + Nosé si vos agradara, + Bè bè bè bè. + +"Upon which my Ivizan avouches, in tears, that I am certainly from +Iviza. The song had affected him as a Switzer is affected by the 'Ranz +des Vaches.' I then said to the officer that if he would bring to me a +person who could speak French, he would find the same embarrassment in +this case also. An emigré of the Bourbon regiment comes forward for the +new experiment, and after a few phrases affirms without hesitation that +I am surely a Frenchman. The officer begins to be impatient. + +"'Have done with these trials: they prove nothing. I require you to tell +me who you are.' + +"'My foremost desire is to find an answer which will satisfy you. I am +the son of the innkeeper at Mataro.' + +"'I know that man: you are not his son.' + +"'You are right: I told you that I should change my answers till I found +one to suit you. I am a marionette player from Lerida.' + +"A huge laugh from the crowd which had listened to the interrogatory put +an end to the questioning." + +Finally it was necessary for Arago to declare outright that he was +French, and to prove it by his old servant Pablo. To supply his +immediate wants he sold his watch; and by a series of misadventures this +watch subsequently fell into the hands of his family, and he was mourned +in France as dead. + +After months of captivity the vessel was released, and the prisoner set +out for Marseilles. A fearful tempest drove them to the harbor of +Bougie, an African port a hundred miles east of Algiers. Thence they +made the perilous journey by land to their place of starting, and +finally reached Marseilles eleven months after their voyage began. +Eleven months to make a journey of four days! + +The intelligence of the safe arrival, after so many perils, of the young +astronomer, with his packet of precious observations, soon reached +Paris. He was welcomed with effusion. Soon afterward (at the age of +twenty-three years) he was elected a member of the section of Astronomy +of the Academy of Sciences, and from this time forth he led the peaceful +life of a savant. He was the Director of the Paris Observatory for many +years; the friend of all European scientists; the ardent patron of young +men of talent; a leading physicist; a strong Republican, though the +friend of Napoleon; and finally the Perpetual Secretary of the Academy. + +In the latter capacity it was part of his duty to prepare _éloges_ of +deceased Academicians. Of his collected works in fourteen volumes, +'Oeuvres de François Arago,' published in Paris, 1865, three volumes are +given to these 'Notices Biographiques.' Here may be found the +biographies of Bailly, Sir William Herschel, Laplace, Joseph Fourier, +Carnot, Malus, Fresnel, Thomas Young, and James Watt; which, translated +rather carelessly into English, have been published under the title +'Biographies of Distinguished Men,' and can be found in the larger +libraries. The collected works contain biographies also of Ampère, +Condoreet, Volta, Monge, Porson, Gay-Lussac, besides shorter sketches. +They are masterpieces of style and of clear scientific exposition, and +full of generous appreciation of others' work. They present in a lucid +and popular form the achievements of scientific men whose works have +changed the accepted opinion of the world, and they give general views +not found in the original writings themselves. Scientific men are +usually too much engrossed in advancing science to spare time for +expounding it to popular audiences. The talent for such exposition is +itself a special one. Arago possessed it to the full, and his own +original contributions to astronomy and physics enabled him to speak as +an expert, not merely as an expositor. + +The extracts are from his admirable estimate of Laplace, which he +prepared in connection with the proposal, before him and other members +of a State Committee, to publish a new and authoritative edition of the +great astronomer's works. The translation is mainly that of the +'Biographies of Distinguished Men' cited above, and much of the felicity +of style is necessarily lost in translation; but the substance of solid +and lucid exposition from a master's hand remains. + +Arago was a Deputy in 1830, and Minister of War in the Provisional +Government of 1848. He died full of honors, October 2d, 1853. Two of his +brothers, Jacques and Étienne, were dramatic authors of note. Another, +Jean, was a distinguished general in the service of Mexico. One of his +sons, Alfred, is favorably known as a painter; another, Emmanuel, as a +lawyer, deputy, and diplomat. + +[Illustration: Signature: Edward S. Holden] + + + + +LAPLACE + +The Marquis de Laplace, peer of France, one of the forty of the French +Academy, member of the Academy of Sciences and of the Bureau of +Longitude, Associate of all the great Academies or Scientific Societies +of Europe, was born at Beaumont-en-Auge, of parents belonging to the +class of small farmers, on the 28th of March, 1749; he died on the 5th +of March, 1827. The first and second volumes of the 'Mécanique Céleste' +[Mechanism of the Heavens] were published in 1799; the third volume +appeared in 1802, the fourth in 1805; part of the fifth volume was +published in 1823, further books in 1824, and the remainder in 1825. The +'Théorie des Probabilités' was published in 1812. We shall now present +the history of the principal astronomical discoveries contained in these +immortal works. + +Astronomy is the science of which the human mind may justly feel +proudest. It owes this pre-eminence to the elevated nature of its +object; to the enormous scale of its operations; to the certainty, the +utility, and the stupendousness of its results. From the very beginnings +of civilization the study of the heavenly bodies and their movements has +attracted the attention of governments and peoples. The greatest +captains, statesmen, philosophers, and orators of Greece and Rome found +it a subject of delight. Yet astronomy worthy of the name is a modern +science: it dates from the sixteenth century only. Three great, three +brilliant phases have marked its progress. In 1543 the bold and firm +hand of Copernicus overthrew the greater part of the venerable +scaffolding which had propped the illusions and the pride of many +generations. The earth ceased to be the centre, the pivot, of celestial +movements. Henceforward it ranged itself modestly among the other +planets, its relative importance as one member of the solar system +reduced almost to that of a grain of sand. + +Twenty-eight years had elapsed from the day when the Canon of Thorn +expired while holding in his trembling hands the first copy of the work +which was to glorify the name of Poland, when Würtemberg witnessed the +birth of a man who was destined to achieve a revolution in science not +less fertile in consequences, and still more difficult to accomplish. +This man was Kepler. Endowed with two qualities which seem +incompatible,--a volcanic imagination, and a dogged pertinacity which +the most tedious calculations could not tire,--Kepler conjectured that +celestial movements must be connected with each other by simple laws; +or, to use his own expression, by harmonic laws. These laws he undertook +to discover. A thousand fruitless attempts--the errors of calculation +inseparable from a colossal undertaking--did not hinder his resolute +advance toward the goal his imagination descried. Twenty-two years he +devoted to it, and still he was not weary. What are twenty-two years of +labor to him who is about to become the lawgiver of worlds; whose name +is to be ineffaceably inscribed on the frontispiece of an immortal code; +who can exclaim in dithyrambic language, "The die is cast: I have +written my book; it will be read either in the present age or by +posterity, it matters not which; it may well await a reader since God +has waited six thousand years for an interpreter of his works"? + +These celebrated laws, known in astronomy as Kepler's laws, are three in +number. The first law is, that the planets describe ellipses around the +sun, which is placed in their common focus; the second, that a line +joining a planet and the sun sweeps over equal areas in equal times; the +third, that the squares of the times of revolution of the planets about +the sun are proportional to the cubes of their mean distances from that +body. The first two laws were discovered by Kepler in the course of a +laborious examination of the theory of the planet Mars. A full account +of this inquiry is contained in his famous work, 'De Stella Martis' [Of +the Planet Mars], published in 1609. The discovery of the third law was +announced to the world in his treatise on Harmonics (1628). + +To seek a physical cause adequate to retain the planets in their closed +orbits; to make the stability of the universe depend on mechanical +forces, and not on solid supports like the crystalline spheres imagined +by our ancestors; to extend to the heavenly bodies in their courses the +laws of earthly mechanics,--such were the problems which remained for +solution after Kepler's discoveries had been announced. Traces of these +great problems may be clearly perceived here and there among ancient and +modern writers, from Lucretius and Plutarch down to Kepler, Bouillaud, +and Borelli. It is to Newton, however, that we must award the merit of +their solution. This great man, like several of his predecessors, +imagined the celestial bodies to have a tendency to approach each other +in virtue of some attractive force, and from the laws of Kepler he +deduced the mathematical characteristics of this force. He extended it +to all the material molecules of the solar system; and developed his +brilliant discovery in a work which, even at the present day, is +regarded as the supremest product of the human intellect. + +The contributions of France to these revolutions in astronomical science +consisted, in 1740, in the determination by experiment of the spheroidal +figure of the earth, and in the discovery of the local variations of +gravity upon the surface of our planet. These were two great results; +but whenever France is not first in science she has lost her place. This +rank, lost for a moment, was brilliantly regained by the labors of four +geometers. When Newton, giving to his discoveries a generality which the +laws of Kepler did not suggest, imagined that the different planets were +not only attracted by the sun, but that they also attracted each other, +he introduced into the heavens a cause of universal perturbation. +Astronomers then saw at a glance that in no part of the universe would +the Keplerian laws suffice for the exact representation of the phenomena +of motion; that the simple regular movements with which the imaginations +of the ancients were pleased to endow the heavenly bodies must +experience numerous, considerable, perpetually changing perturbations. +To discover a few of these perturbations, and to assign their nature and +in a few rare cases their numerical value, was the object which Newton +proposed to himself in writing his famous book, the 'Principia +Mathematica Philosophiæ Naturalis' [Mathematical Principles of Natural +Philosophy], Notwithstanding the incomparable sagacity of its author, +the 'Principia' contained merely a rough outline of planetary +perturbations, though not through any lack of ardor or perseverance. The +efforts of the great philosopher were always superhuman, and the +questions which he did not solve were simply incapable of solution +in his time. + +Five geometers--Clairaut, Euler, D'Alembert, Lagrange, and +Laplace--shared between them the world whose existence Newton had +disclosed. They explored it in all directions, penetrated into regions +hitherto inaccessible, and pointed out phenomena hitherto undetected. +Finally--and it is this which constitutes their imperishable glory--they +brought under the domain of a single principle, a single law, everything +that seemed most occult and mysterious in the celestial movements. +Geometry had thus the hardihood to dispose of the future, while the +centuries as they unroll scrupulously ratify the decisions of science. + +If Newton gave a complete solution of celestial movements where but two +bodies attract each other, he did not even attempt the infinitely more +difficult problem of three. The "problem of three bodies" (this is the +name by which it has become celebrated)--the problem of determining the +movement of a body subjected to the attractive influence of two +others--was solved for the first time by our countryman, Clairaut. +Though he enumerated the various forces which must result from the +mutual action of the planets and satellites of our system, even the +great Newton did not venture to investigate the general nature of their +effects. In the midst of the labyrinth formed by increments and +diminutions of velocity, variations in the forms of orbits, changes in +distances and inclinations, which these forces must evidently produce, +the most learned geometer would fail to discover a trustworthy guide. +Forces so numerous, so variable in direction, so different in intensity, +seemed to be incapable of maintaining a condition of equilibrium except +by a sort of miracle. Newton even suggested that the planetary system +did not contain within itself the elements of indefinite stability. He +was of opinion that a powerful hand must intervene from time to time to +repair the derangements occasioned by the mutual action of the various +bodies. Euler, better instructed than Newton in a knowledge of these +perturbations, also refused to admit that the solar system was +constituted so as to endure forever. + +Never did a greater philosophical question offer itself to the inquiries +of mankind. Laplace attacked it with boldness, perseverance, and +success. The profound and long-continued researches of the illustrious +geometer completely established the perpetual variability of the +planetary ellipses. He demonstrated that the extremities of their major +axes make the circuit of the heavens; that independent of oscillation, +the planes of their orbits undergo displacements by which their +intersections with the plane of the terrestrial orbit are each year +directed toward different stars. But in the midst of this apparant +chaos, there is one element which remains constant, or is merely subject +to small and periodic changes; namely, the major axis of each orbit, and +consequently the time of revolution of each planet. This is the element +which ought to have varied most, on the principles held by Newton and +Euler. Gravitation, then, suffices to preserve the stability of the +solar system. It maintains the forms and inclinations of the orbits in +an average position, subject to slight oscillations only; variety does +not entail disorder; the universe offers an example of harmonious +relations, of a state of perfection which Newton himself doubted. + +This condition of harmony depends on circumstances disclosed to Laplace +by analysis; circumstances which on the surface do not seem capable of +exercising so great an influence. If instead of planets all revolving in +the same direction, in orbits but slightly eccentric and in planes +inclined at but small angles toward each other, we should substitute +different conditions, the stability of the universe would be +jeopardized, and a frightful chaos would pretty certainly result. The +discovery of the actual conditions excluded the idea, at least so far as +the solar system was concerned, that the Newtonian attraction might be a +cause of disorder. But might not other forces, combined with the +attraction of gravitation, produce gradually increasing perturbations +such as Newton and Euler feared? Known facts seemed to justify the +apprehension. A comparison of ancient with modern observations revealed +a continual acceleration in the mean motions of the moon and of Jupiter, +and an equally striking diminution of the mean motion of Saturn. These +variations led to a very important conclusion. In accordance with their +presumed cause, to say that the velocity of a body increased from +century to century was equivalent to asserting that the body continually +approached the centre of motion; on the other hand, when the velocity +diminished, the body must be receding from the centre. Thus, by a +strange ordering of nature, our planetary system seemed destined to lose +Saturn, its most mysterious ornament; to see the planet with its ring +and seven satellites plunge gradually into those unknown regions where +the eye armed with the most powerful telescope has never penetrated. +Jupiter, on the other hand, the planet compared with which the earth is +so insignificant, appeared to be moving in the opposite direction, so +that it would ultimately be absorbed into the incandescent matter of the +sun. Finally, it seemed that the moon would one day precipitate itself +upon the earth. + +There was nothing doubtful or speculative in these sinister forebodings. +The precise dates of the approaching catastrophes were alone uncertain. +It was known, however, that they were very distant. Accordingly, neither +the learned dissertations of men of science nor the animated +descriptions of certain poets produced any impression upon the public +mind. The members of our scientific societies, however, believed with +regret the approaching destruction of the planetary system. The Academy +of Sciences called the attention of geometers of all countries to these +menacing perturbations. Euler and Lagrange descended into the arena. +Never did their mathematical genius shine with a brighter lustre. Still +the question remained undecided, when from two obscure corners of the +theories of analysis, Laplace, the author of the 'Mécanique Céleste,' +brought the laws of these great phenomena clearly to light. The +variations in velocity of Jupiter, Saturn, and the moon, were proved to +flow from evident physical causes, and to belong in the category of +ordinary periodic perturbations depending solely on gravitation. These +dreaded variations in orbital dimensions resolved themselves into simple +oscillations included within narrow limits. In a word, by the powerful +instrumentality of mathematical analysis, the physical universe was +again established on a demonstrably firm foundation. + +Having demonstrated the smallness of these periodic oscillations, +Laplace next succeeded in determining the absolute dimensions of the +orbits. What is the distance of the sun from the earth? No scientific +question has occupied the attention of mankind in a greater degree. +Mathematically speaking, nothing is more simple: it suffices, as in +ordinary surveying, to draw visual lines from the two extremities of a +known base line to an inaccessible object; the remainder of the process +is an elementary calculation. Unfortunately, in the case of the sun, the +distance is very great and the base lines which can be measured upon the +earth are comparatively very small. In such a case, the slightest errors +in the direction of visual lines exercise an enormous influence upon the +results. In the beginning of the last century, Halley had remarked that +certain interpositions of Venus between the earth and the sun--or to use +the common term, the transits of the planet across the sun's disk--would +furnish at each observing station an indirect means of fixing the +position of the visual ray much superior in accuracy to the most perfect +direct measures. Such was the object of the many scientific expeditions +undertaken in 1761 and 1769, years in which the transits of Venus +occurred. A comparison of observations made in the Southern Hemisphere +with those of Europe gave for the distance of the sun the result which +has since figured in all treatises on astronomy and navigation. No +government hesitated to furnish scientific academies with the means, +however expensive, of establishing their observers in the most distant +regions. We have already remarked that this determination seemed +imperiously to demand an extensive base, for small bases would have been +totally inadequate. Well, Laplace has solved the problem without a base +of any kind whatever; he has deduced the distance of the sun from +observations of the moon made in one and the same place. + +The sun is, with respect to our satellite the moon, the cause of +perturbations which evidently depend on the distance of the immense +luminous globe from the earth. Who does not see that these perturbations +must diminish if the distance increases, and increase if the distance +diminishes, so that the distance determines the amount of the +perturbations? Observation assigns the numerical value of these +perturbations; theory, on the other hand, unfolds the general +mathematical relation which connects them with the solar distance and +with other known elements. The determination of the mean radius of the +terrestrial orbit--of the distance of the sun--then becomes one of the +most simple operations of algebra. Such is the happy combination by the +aid of which Laplace has solved the great, the celebrated problem of +parallax. It is thus that the illustrious geometer found for the mean +distance of the sun from the earth, expressed in radii of the +terrestrial orbit, a value differing but slightly from that which was +the fruit of so many troublesome and expensive voyages. + +The movements of the moon proved a fertile mine of research to our great +geometer. His penetrating intellect discovered in them unknown +treasures. With an ability and a perseverance equally worthy of +admiration, he separated these treasures from the coverings which had +hitherto concealed them from vulgar eyes. For example, the earth governs +the movements of the moon. The earth is flattened; in other words, its +figure is spheroidal. A spheroidal body does not attract as does a +sphere. There should then exist in the movement--I had almost said in +the countenance--of the moon a sort of impress of the spheroidal figure +of the earth. Such was the idea as it originally occurred to Laplace. By +means of a minutely careful investigation, he discovered in its motion +two well-defined perturbations, each depending on the spheroidal figure +of the earth. When these were submitted to calculation, each led to the +same value of the ellipticity. It must be recollected that the +ellipticity thus derived from the motions of the moon is not the one +corresponding to such or such a country, to the ellipticity observed in +France, in England, in Italy, in Lapland, in North America, in India, or +in the region of the Cape of Good Hope; for, the earth's crust having +undergone considerable upheavals at different times and places, the +primitive regularity of its curvature has been sensibly disturbed +thereby. The moon (and it is this which renders the result of such +inestimable value) ought to assign, and has in reality assigned, the +general ellipticity of the earth; in other words, it has indicated a +sort of average value of the various determinations obtained at enormous +expense, and with infinite labor, as the result of long voyages +undertaken by astronomers of all the countries of Europe. + +Certain remarks of Laplace himself bring into strong relief the +profound, the unexpected, the almost paradoxical character of the +methods I have attempted to sketch. What are the elements it has been +found necessary to confront with each other in order to arrive at +results expressed with such extreme precision? On the one hand, +mathematical formulae deduced from the principle of universal +gravitation; on the other, certain irregularities observed in the +returns of the moon to the meridian. An observing geometer, who from his +infancy had never quitted his study, and who had never viewed the +heavens except through a narrow aperture directed north and south,--to +whom nothing had ever been revealed respecting the bodies revolving +above his head, except that they attract each other according to the +Newtonian law of gravitation,--would still perceive that his narrow +abode was situated upon the surface of a spheroidal body, whose +equatorial axis was greater than its polar by a three hundred and sixth +part. In his isolated, fixed position he could still deduce his true +distance from the sun! + +Laplace's improvement of the lunar tables not only promoted maritime +intercourse between distant countries, but preserved the lives of +mariners. Thanks to an unparalleled sagacity, to a limitless +perseverance, to an ever youthful and communicable ardor, Laplace solved +the celebrated problem of the longitude with a precision even greater +than the utmost needs of the art of navigation demanded. The ship, the +sport of the winds and tempests, no longer fears to lose its way in the +immensity of the ocean. In every place and at every time the pilot reads +in the starry heavens his distance from the meridian of Paris. The +extreme perfection of these tables of the moon places Laplace in the +ranks of the world's benefactors. + +In the beginning of the year 1611, Galileo supposed that he found in the +eclipses of Jupiter's satellites a simple and rigorous solution of the +famous problem of the longitude, and attempts to introduce the new +method on board the numerous vessels of Spain and Holland at once began. +They failed because the necessary observations required powerful +telescopes, which could not be employed on a tossing ship. Even the +expectations of the serviceability of Galileo's methods for land +calculations proved premature. The movements of the satellites of +Jupiter are far less simple than the immortal Italian supposed them to +be. The labors of three more generations of astronomers and +mathematicians were needed to determine them, and the mathematical +genius of Laplace was needed to complete their labors. At the present +day the nautical ephemerides contain, several years in advance, the +indications of the times of the eclipses and reappearances of Jupiter's +satellites. Calculation is as precise as direct observation. + +Influenced by an exaggerated deference, modesty, timidity, France in the +eighteenth century surrendered to England the exclusive privilege of +constructing her astronomical instruments. Thus, when Herschel was +prosecuting his beautiful observations on the other side of the Channel, +we had not even the means of verifying them. Fortunately for the +scientific honor of our country, mathematical analysis also is a +powerful instrument. The great Laplace, from the retirement of his +study, foresaw, and accurately predicted in advance, what the excellent +astronomer of Windsor would soon behold with the largest telescopes +existing. When, in 1610, Galileo directed toward Saturn a lens of very +low power which he had just constructed with his own hands, although he +perceived that the planet was not a globe, he could not ascertain its +real form. The expression "tri-corporate," by which the illustrious +Florentine designated the appearance of the planet, even implied a +totally erroneous idea of its structure. At the present day every one +knows that Saturn consists of a globe about nine hundred times greater +than the earth, and of a ring. This ring does not touch the ball of the +planet, being everywhere removed from it to a distance of twenty +thousand (English) miles. Observation indicates the breadth of the ring +to be fifty-four thousand miles. The thickness certainly does not +exceed two hundred and fifty miles. With the exception of a black streak +which divides the ring throughout its whole contour into two parts of +unequal breadth and of different brightness, this strange colossal +bridge without foundations had never offered to the most experienced or +skillful observers either spot or protuberance adapted for deciding +whether it was immovable or endowed with a motion of rotation. Laplace +considered it to be very improbable, if the ring was stationary, that +its constituent parts should be capable of resisting by mere cohesion +the continual attraction of the planet. A movement of rotation occurred +to his mind as constituting the principle of stability, and he deduced +the necessary velocity from this consideration. The velocity thus found +was exactly equal to that which Herschel subsequently derived from a +series of extremely delicate observations. The two parts of the ring, +being at different distances from the planet, could not fail to be given +different movements of precession by the action of the sun. Hence it +would seem that the planes of both rings ought in general to be inclined +toward each other, whereas they appear from observation always to +coincide. It was necessary then that some physical cause capable of +neutralizing the action of the sun should exist. In a memoir published +in February, 1789, Laplace found that this cause depended on the +ellipticity of Saturn produced by a rapid movement of rotation of the +planet, a movement whose discovery Herschel announced in November of the +same year. + +If we descend from the heavens to the earth, the discoveries of Laplace +will appear not less worthy of his genius. He reduced the phenomena of +the tides, which an ancient philosopher termed in despair "the tomb of +human curiosity," to an analytical theory in which the physical +conditions of the question figure for the first time. Consequently, to +the immense advantage of coast navigation, calculators now venture to +predict in detail the time and height of the tides several years in +advance. Between the phenomena of the ebb and flow, and the attractive +forces of the sun and moon upon the fluid sheet which covers three +fourths of the globe, an intimate and necessary connection exists; a +connection from which Laplace deduced the value of the mass of our +satellite the moon. Yet so late as the year 1631 the illustrious +Galileo, as appears from his 'Dialogues,' was so far from perceiving the +mathematical relations from which Laplace deduced results so beautiful, +so unequivocal, and so useful, that he taxed with frivolousness the +vague idea which Kepler entertained of attributing to the moon's +attraction a certain share in the production of the diurnal and +periodical movements of the waters of the ocean. + +Laplace did not confine his genius to the extension and improvement of +the mathematical theory of the tide. He considered the phenomenon from +an entirely new point of view, and it was he who first treated of the +stability of the ocean. He has established its equilibrium, but upon the +express condition (which, however, has been amply proved to exist) that +the mean density of the fluid mass is less than the mean density of the +earth. Everything else remaining the same, if we substituted an ocean of +quicksilver for the actual ocean, this stability would disappear. The +fluid would frequently overflow its boundaries, to ravage continents +even to the height of the snowy peaks which lose themselves in +the clouds. + +No one was more sagacious than Laplace in discovering intimate relations +between phenomena apparently unrelated, or more skillful in deducing +important conclusions from such unexpected affinities. For example, +toward the close of his days, with the aid of certain lunar +observations, with a stroke of his pen he overthrew the cosmogonic +theories of Buffon and Bailly, which were so long in favor. According to +these theories, the earth was hastening to a state of congelation which +was close at hand. Laplace, never contented with vague statements, +sought to determine in numbers the rate of the rapid cooling of our +globe which Buffon had so eloquently but so gratuitously announced. +Nothing could be more simple, better connected, or more conclusive than +the chain of deductions of the celebrated geometer. A body diminishes in +volume when it cools. According to the most elementary principles of +mechanics, a rotating body which contracts in dimensions must inevitably +turn upon its axis with greater and greater rapidity. The length of the +day has been determined in all ages by the time of the earth's rotation; +if the earth is cooling, the length of the day must be continually +shortening. Now, there exists a means of ascertaining whether the length +of the day has undergone any variation; this consists in examining, for +each century, the arc of the celestial sphere described by the moon +during the interval of time which the astronomers of the existing epoch +call a day; in other words, the time required by the earth to effect a +complete rotation on its axis, the velocity of the moon being in fact +independent of the time of the earth's rotation. Let us now, following +Laplace, take from the standard tables the smallest values, if you +choose, of the expansions or contractions which solid bodies experience +from changes of temperature; let us search the annals of Grecian, +Arabian, and modern astronomy for the purpose of finding in them the +angular velocity of the moon: and the great geometer will prove, by +incontrovertible evidence founded upon these data, that during a period +of two thousand years the mean temperature of the earth has not varied +to the extent of the hundredth part of a degree of the centigrade +thermometer. Eloquence cannot resist such a process of reasoning, or +withstand the force of such figures. Mathematics has ever been the +implacable foe of scientific romances. The constant object of Laplace +was the explanation of the great phenomena of nature according to +inflexible principles of mathematical analysis. No philosopher, no +mathematician, could have guarded himself more cautiously against a +propensity to hasty speculation. No person dreaded more the scientific +errors which cajole the imagination when it passes the boundary of fact, +calculation, and analogy. + +Once, and once only, did Laplace launch forward, like Kepler, like +Descartes, like Leibnitz, like Buffon, into the region of conjectures. +But then his conception was nothing less than a complete cosmogony. All +the planets revolve around the sun, from west to east, and in planes +only slightly inclined to each other. The satellites revolve around +their respective primaries in the same direction. Both planets and +satellites, having a rotary motion, turn also upon their axes from west +to east. Finally, the rotation of the sun also is directed from west to +east. Here, then, is an assemblage of forty-three movements, all +operating alike. By the calculus of probabilities, the odds are four +thousand millions to one that this coincidence in direction is not the +effect of accident. + +It was Buffon, I think, who first attempted to explain this singular +feature of our solar system. "Wishing, in the explanation of phenomena, +to avoid recourse to causes which are not to be found in nature," the +celebrated academician sought for a physical cause for what is common to +the movements of so many bodies differing as they do in magnitude, in +form, and in their distances from the centre of attraction. He imagined +that he had discovered such a physical cause by making this triple +supposition: a comet fell obliquely upon the sun; it pushed before it a +torrent of fluid matter; this substance, transported to a greater or +less distance from the sun according to its density, formed by +condensation all the known planets. The bold hypothesis is subject to +insurmountable difficulties. I proceed to indicate, in a few words, the +cosmogonic system which Laplace substituted for it. + +According to Laplace, the sun was, at a remote epoch, the central +nucleus of an immense nebula, which possessed a very high temperature, +and extended far beyond the region in which Uranus now revolves. No +planet was then in existence. The solar nebula was endowed with a +general movement of rotation in the direction west to east. As it cooled +it could not fail to experience a gradual condensation, and in +consequence to rotate with greater and greater rapidity. If the nebulous +matter extended originally in the plane of its equator, as far as the +limit where the centrifugal force exactly counterbalanced the attraction +of the nucleus, the molecules situate at this limit ought, during the +process of condensation, to separate from the rest of the atmospheric +matter and to form an equatorial zone, a ring, revolving separately and +with its primitive velocity. We may conceive that analogous separations +were effected in the remoter strata of the nebula at different epochs +and at different distances from the nucleus, and that they gave rise to +a succession of distinct rings, all lying in nearly the same plane, and +all endowed with different velocities. + +This being once admitted, it is easy to see that the permanent stability +of the rings would have required a regularity of structure throughout +their whole contour, which is very improbable. Each of them, +accordingly, broke in its turn into several masses, which were obviously +endowed with a movement of rotation coinciding in direction with the +common movement of revolution, and which, in consequence of their +fluidity, assumed spheroidal forms. In order, next, that one of those +spheroids may absorb all the others belonging to the same ring, it is +sufficient to suppose it to have a mass greater than that of any other +spheroid of its group. + +Each of the planets, while in this vaporous condition to which we have +just alluded, would manifestly have a central nucleus, gradually +increasing in magnitude and mass, and an atmosphere offering, at its +successive limits, phenomena entirely similar to those which the solar +atmosphere, properly so called, had exhibited. We are here +contemplating the birth of satellites and the birth of the ring +of Saturn. + +The Nebular Hypothesis, of which I have just given an imperfect sketch, +has for its object to show how a nebula endowed with a general movement +of rotation must eventually transform itself into a very luminous +central nucleus (a sun), and into a series of distinct spheroidal +planets, situate at considerable distances from one another, all +revolving around the central sun, in the direction of the original +movement of the nebula; how these planets ought also to have movements +of rotation in similar directions; how, finally, the satellites, when +any such are formed, must revolve upon their axes and around their +respective primaries, in the direction of rotation of the planets and of +their movement of revolution around the sun. + +In all that precedes, attention has been concentrated upon the +'Mécanique Céleste.' The 'Système du Monde' and the 'Théorie Analytique +des Probabilités' also deserve description. + +The Exposition of the System of the World is the 'Mécanique Céleste' +divested of that great apparatus of analytical formulae which must be +attentively perused by every astronomer who, to use an expression of +Plato, wishes to know the numbers which govern the physical universe. It +is from this work that persons ignorant of mathematics may obtain +competent knowledge of the methods to which physical astronomy owes its +astonishing progress. Written with a noble simplicity of style, an +exquisite exactness of expression, and a scrupulous accuracy, it is +universally conceded to stand among the noblest monuments of French +literature.... The labors of all ages to persuade truth from the heavens +are there justly, clearly, and profoundly analyzed. Genius presides as +the impartial judge of genius. Throughout his work Laplace remained at +the height of his great mission. It will be read with respect so long as +the torch of science illuminates the world. + +The calculus of probabilities, when confined within just limits, +concerns the mathematician, the experimenter, and the statesman. From +the time when Pascal and Fermat established its first principles, it has +rendered most important daily services. This it is which, after +suggesting the best form for statistical tables of population and +mortality, teaches us to deduce from those numbers, so often +misinterpreted, the most precise and useful conclusions. This it is +which alone regulates with equity insurance premiums, pension funds, +annuities, discounts, etc. This it is that has gradually suppressed +lotteries, and other shameful snares cunningly laid for avarice and +ignorance. Laplace has treated these questions with his accustomed +superiority: the 'Analytical Theory of Probabilities' is worthy of the +author of the 'Mécanique Céleste.' + +A philosopher whose name is associated with immortal discoveries said to +his too conservative audience, "Bear in mind, gentlemen, that in +questions of science the authority of a thousand is not worth the humble +reasoning of a single individual." Two centuries have passed over these +words of Galileo without lessening their value or impugning their truth. +For this reason, it has been thought better rather to glance briefly at +the work of Laplace than to repeat the eulogies of his admirers. + + + + +JOHN ARBUTHNOT + +(1667-1735) + + +Arbuthnot's place in literature depends as much on his association with +the wits of his day as on his own satirical and humorous productions. +Many of these have been published in the collections of Swift, Gay, +Pope, and others, and cannot be identified. The task of verifying them +is rendered more difficult by the fact that his son repudiated a +collection claiming to be his 'Miscellaneous Works,' published in 1750. + +[Illustration: JOHN ARBUTHNOT] + +John Arbuthnot was born in the manse near Arbuthnot Castle, +Kincardineshire, Scotland, April 29th, 1667. He was the son of a Scotch +Episcopal clergyman, who was soon to be dispossessed of his parish by +the Presbyterians in the Revolution of 1688. His children, who shared +his Jacobite sentiments, were forced to leave Scotland; and John, after +finishing his university course at Aberdeen, and taking his medical +degree at St. Andrews, went to London and taught mathematics. He soon +attracted attention by a keen and satirical 'Examination of Dr. +Woodward's Account of the Deluge,' published in 1697. By a fortunate +chance he was called to attend the Prince Consort (Prince George of +Denmark), and in 1705 was made Physician Extraordinary to Queen Anne. If +we may believe Swift, the agreeable Scotchman at once became her +favorite attendant. His position at court was strengthened by his +friendships with the great Tory statesmen. + +Arbuthnot's best remembered work is 'The History of John Bull'; not +because many people read or will ever read the book itself, but because +it fixed a typical name and a typical character ineffaceably in the +popular fancy and memory. He is credited with having been the first to +use this famous sobriquet for the English nation; he was certainly the +first to make it universal, and the first to make that burly, choleric, +gross-feeding, hard-drinking, blunt-spoken, rather stupid and decidedly +gullible, but honest and straightforward character one of the stock +types of the world. The book appeared as four separate pamphlets: the +first being entitled 'Law is a Bottomless Pit, Exemplified in the Case +of Lord Strutt, John Bull, Nicholas Frog, and Lewis Baboon, Who Spent +All They Had in a Law Suit'; the second, 'John Bull in His Senses'; the +third, 'John Bull Still in His Senses'; and the fourth, 'Lewis Baboon +Turned Honest, and John Bull Politician.' Published in 1712, these were +at once attributed to Swift. But Pope says, "Dr. Arbuthnot was the sole +writer of 'John Bull'"; and Swift gives us still more conclusive +evidence by writing, "I hope you read 'John Bull.' It was a Scotch +gentleman, a friend of mine, that writ it; but they put it on to me." In +his humorous preface Dr. Arbuthnot says:-- + + "When I was first called to the office of historiographer to + John Bull, he expressed himself to this purpose:--'Sir + Humphrey Polesworth, I know you are a plain dealer; it is for + that reason I have chosen you for this important trust; speak + the truth, and spare not.' That I might fulfill those, his + honorable intentions, I obtained leave to repair to and + attend him in his most secret retirements; and I put the + journals of all transactions into a strong box to be opened + at a fitting occasion, after the manner of the + historiographers of some Eastern monarchs.... And now, that + posterity may not be ignorant in what age so excellent a + history was written (which would otherwise, no doubt, be the + subject of its inquiries), I think it proper to inform the + learned of future times that it was compiled when Louis XIV. + was King of France, and Philip, his grandson, of Spain; when + England and Holland, in conjunction with the Emperor and the + allies, entered into a war against these two princes, which + lasted ten years, under the management of the Duke of + Marlborough, and was put to a conclusion by the treaty of + Utrecht under the ministry of the Earl of Oxford, in the year + 1713." + +The characters disguised are: "John Bull," the English; "Nicholas Frog," +the Dutch; "Lewis Baboon," the French king; "Lord Strutt," the late King +of Spain; "Philip Baboon," the Duke of Anjou; "Esquire South," the King +of Spain; "Humphrey Hocus," the Duke of Marlborough; and "Sir Roger +Bold," the Earl of Oxford. The lawsuit was the War of the Spanish +Succession; John Bull's first wife was the late ministry; and his +second wife the Tory ministry. To explain the allegory further, John +Bull's mother was the Church of England; his sister Peg, the Scotch +nation; and her lover Jack, Presbyterianism. + +That so witty a work, so strong in typical freehand character drawing of +permanent validity and remembrance, should be unread and its author +forgotten except by scholars, is too curious a fact not to have a deep +cause in its own character. The cause is not hard to find: it is one of +the books which try to turn the world's current backward, and which the +world dislikes as offending its ideals of progress. Stripped of its +broad humor, its object, rubbed in with no great delicacy of touch, was +to uphold the most extreme and reactionary Toryism of the time, and to +jeer at political liberalism from the ground up. Its theoretic loyalty +is the non-resistant Jacobitism of the Nonjurors, which it is so hard +for us now to distinguish from abject slavishness; though like the +principles of the casuists, one must not confound theory with practice. +It seems the loyalty of a mujik or a Fiji dressed in cultivated modern +clothes, not that of a conceivable cultivated modern community as a +whole; but it would be very Philistine to pour wholesale contempt on a +creed held by so many large minds and souls. It was of course produced +by the experience of what the reverse tenets had brought on,--a long +civil war, years of military despotism, and immense social and moral +disorganization. In 'John Bull,' the fidelity of a subject to a king is +made exactly correspondent, both in theory and practice, with the +fidelity of a wife to her husband and her marriage vows; and an +elaborate parallel is worked out to show that advocating the right of +resistance to a bad king is precisely the same, on grounds of either +logic or Scripture, as advocating the right of adultery toward a bad +husband. This is not even good fooling; and, its local use past and no +longer buoyed by personal liking for the author, the book sinks back +into the limbo of partisan polemics with many worse ones and perhaps +some better ones, dragging its real excellences down with it. + +In 1714 the famous Scriblerus Club was organized, having for its members +Pope, Swift, Arbuthnot, Gay, Congreve, Lord Oxford, and Bishop +Atterbury. They agreed to write a series of papers ridiculing, in the +words of Pope, "all the false tastes in learning, under the character of +a man of capacity enough, but that had dipped into every art and +science, but injudiciously in each." The chronicle of this club was +found in 'The Memoirs of the Extraordinary Life, Works, and Discoveries +of Martinus Scriblerus,' which is thought to have been written entirely +by Arbuthnot, and which describes the education of a learned pedant's +son. Its humor may be appreciated by means of the citation given below. +The first book of 'Scriblerus' appeared six years after Arbuthnot's +death, when it was included in the second volume of Alexander Pope's +works (1741). Pope said that from the 'Memoirs of Scriblerus' Swift took +his idea of 'Gulliver'; and the Dean himself writes to Arbuthnot, July +3d, 1714:-- + + "To talk of 'Martin' in any hands but Yours is a Folly. You + every day give better hints than all of us together could do + in a twelvemonth. And to say the truth, Pope, who first + thought of the Hint, has no Genius at all to it, in my mind; + Gay is too young; Parnell has some ideas of it, but is idle; + I could put together, and lard, and strike out well enough, + but all that relates to the Sciences must be from you." + +Swift's opinion that Arbuthnot "has more wit than we all have, and his +humanity is equal to his wit," seems to have been the universal dictum; +and Pope honored him by publishing a dialogue in the 'Prologue to the +Satires,' known first as 'The Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot,' which contains +many affectionate personal allusions. Aitken says, in his biography:-- + + "Arbuthnot's attachment to Swift and Pope was of the most + intimate nature, and those who knew them best maintained that + he was their equal at least in gifts. He understood Swift's + cynicism, and their correspondence shows the unequaled + sympathy that existed between the two. Gay, Congreve, + Berkeley, Parnell, were among Arbuthnot's constant friends, + and all of them were indebted to him for kindnesses freely + rendered. He was on terms of intimacy with Bolingbroke and + Oxford, Chesterfield, Peterborough, and Pulteney; and among + the ladies with whom he mixed were Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, + Lady Betty Germain, Mrs. Howard, Lady Masham, and Mrs. Martha + Blount. He was, too, the trusted friend and physician of + Queen Anne. Most of the eminent men of science of the time, + including some who were opposed to him in politics, were in + frequent intercourse with him; and it is pleasant to know + that at least one of the greatest of the wits who were most + closely allied to the Whig party--Addison--had friendly + relations with him." + +From the letters of Lord Chesterfield we learn that + + "His imagination was almost inexhaustible, and whatever + subject he treated, or was consulted upon, he immediately + overflowed with all that it could possibly produce. It was at + anybody's service, for as soon as he was exonerated he did + not care what became of it; insomuch that his sons, when + young, have frequently made kites of his scattered papers of + hints, which would have furnished good matter for folios. Not + being in the least jealous of his fame as an author, he would + neither take the time nor the trouble of separating the best + from the worst; he worked out the whole mine, which + afterward, in the hands of skillful refiners, produced a rich + vein of ore. As his imagination was always at work, he was + frequently absent and inattentive in company, which made him + both say and do a thousand inoffensive absurdities; but + which, far from being provoking, as they commonly are, + supplied new matter for conversation, and occasioned wit both + in himself and others." + +Speaking to Boswell of the writers of Queen Anne's time, Dr. Johnson +said, "I think Dr. Arbuthnot the first man among them. He was the most +universal genius, being an excellent physician, a man of deep learning, +and a man of much humor." He did not, however, think much of the +'Scriblerus' papers, and said they were forgotten because "no man would +be the wiser, better, or merrier for remembering them"; which is hard +measure for the wit and divertingness of some of the travesties. Cowper, +reviewing Johnson's 'Lives of the Poets,' declared that "one might +search these eight volumes with a candle to find a man, and not find +one, unless perhaps Arbuthnot were he." Thackeray, too, called him "one +of the wisest, wittiest, most accomplished, gentlest of mankind." + +Thus fortunate in his sunny spirit, in his genius for friendship, in his +professional eminence, and in his literary capacity, Dr. Arbuthnot saw +his life flow smoothly to its close. He died in London on February 27th, +1735, at the age of sixty eight, still working and playing with youthful +ardor, and still surrounded with all the good things of life. + + + + +THE TRUE CHARACTERS OF JOHN BULL, NIC. FROG, AND +HOCUS + +From 'The History of John Bull,' Part I. + + +For the better understanding the following history, the reader ought to +know that Bull, in the main, was an honest, plain-dealing fellow, +choleric, bold, and of a very unconstant temper; he dreaded not old +Lewis either at backsword, single falchion, or cudgel play; but then he +was very apt to quarrel with his best friends, especially if they +pretended to govern him. If you flattered him, you might lead him like a +child. John's temper depended very much upon the air; his spirits rose +and fell with the weather-glass. John was quick and understood his +business very well; but no man alive was more careless in looking into +his accounts, or more cheated by partners, apprentices, and servants. +This was occasioned by his being a boon companion, loving his bottle and +his diversion; for, to say truth, no man kept a better house than John, +nor spent his money more generously. By plain and fair dealing John had +acquired some plums, and might have kept them, had it not been for his +unhappy lawsuit. + +Nic. Frog was a cunning, sly fellow, quite the reverse of John in many +particulars; covetous, frugal, minded domestic affairs, would pinch his +belly to save his pocket, never lost a farthing by careless servants or +bad debtors. He did not care much for any sort of diversion, except +tricks of High German artists and legerdemain. No man exceeded Nic. in +these; yet it must be owned that Nic. was a fair dealer, and in that way +acquired immense riches. + +Hocus was an old, cunning attorney; and though this was the first +considerable suit that ever he was engaged in, he showed himself +superior in address to most of his profession. He kept always good +clerks, he loved money, was smooth-tongued, gave good words, and seldom +lost his temper. He was not worse than an infidel, for he provided +plentifully for his family, but he loved himself better than them all. +The neighbors reported that he was henpecked, which was impossible, by +such a mild-spirited woman as his wife was. + + * * * * * + +HOW THE RELATIONS RECONCILED JOHN AND HIS SISTER PEG, +AND WHAT RETURN PEG MADE TO JOHN'S MESSAGE + +From the 'History of John Bull,' Part I. + +John Bull, otherwise a good-natured man, was very hard-hearted to his +sister Peg, chiefly from an aversion he had conceived in his infancy. +While he flourished, kept a warm house, and drove a plentiful trade, +poor Peg was forced to go hawking and peddling about the streets selling +knives, scissors, and shoe-buckles; now and then carried a basket of +fish to the market; sewed, spun, and knit for a livelihood till her +fingers' ends were sore: and when she could not get bread for her +family, she was forced to hire them out at journey-work to her +neighbors. Yet in these, her poor circumstances, she still preserved the +air and mien of a gentlewoman--a certain decent pride that extorted +respect from the haughtiest of her neighbors. When she came in to any +full assembly, she would not yield the _pas_ to the best of them. If one +asked her, "Are you not related to John Bull?" "Yes," says she, "he has +the honor to be my brother." So Peg's affairs went till all the +relations cried out shame upon John for his barbarous usage of his own +flesh and blood; that it was an easy matter for him to put her in a +creditable way of living, not only without hurt, but with advantage to +himself, seeing she was an industrious person, and might be serviceable +to him in his way of business. "Hang her, jade," quoth John, "I can't +endure her as long as she keeps that rascal Jack's company." They told +him the way to reclaim her was to take her into his house; that by +conversation the childish humors of their younger days might be +worn out. + +These arguments were enforced by a certain incident. It happened that +John was at that time about making his will and entailing his estate, +the very same in which Nic. Frog is named executor. Now, his sister +Peg's name being in the entail, he could not make a thorough settlement +without her consent. There was indeed a malicious story went about, as +if John's last wife had fallen in love with Jack as he was eating +custard on horseback; that she persuaded John to take his sister into +the house the better to drive on the intrigue with Jack, concluding he +would follow his mistress Peg. All I can infer from this story is that +when one has got a bad character in the world, people will report and +believe anything of them, true or false. But to return to my story. + +When Peg received John's message she huffed and stormed:--"My brother +John," quoth she, "is grown wondrous kind-hearted all of a sudden, but I +meikle doubt whether it be not mair for their own conveniency than for +my good; he draws up his writs and his deeds, forsooth, and I must set +my hand to them, unsight, unseen. I like the young man he has settled +upon well enough, but I think I ought to have a valuable consideration +for my consent. He wants my poor little farm because it makes a nook in +his park wall. You may e'en tell him he has mair than he makes good use +of; he gangs up and down drinking, roaring, and quarreling, through all +the country markets, making foolish bargains in his cups, which he +repents when he is sober; like a thriftless wretch, spending the goods +and gear that his forefathers won with the sweat of their brows; light +come, light go; he cares not a farthing. But why should I stand surety +for his contracts? The little I have is free, and I can call it my +own--hame's hame, let it be never so hamely. I ken well enough, he could +never abide me, and when he has his ends he'll e'en use me as he did +before. I'm sure I shall be treated like a poor drudge--I shall be set +to tend the bairns, darn the hose, and mend the linen. Then there's no +living with that old carline, his mother; she rails at Jack, and Jack's +an honester man than any of her kin: I shall be plagued with her spells +and her Paternosters, and silly Old World ceremonies; I mun never pare +my nails on a Friday, nor begin a journey on Childermas Day; and I mun +stand becking and binging as I gang out and into the hall. Tell him he +may e'en gang his get; I'll have nothing to do with him; I'll stay like +the poor country mouse, in my awn habitation." + +So Peg talked; but for all that, by the interposition of good friends, +and by many a bonny thing that was sent, and many more that were +promised Peg, the matter was concluded, and Peg taken into the house +upon certain articles [the Act of Toleration is referred to]; one of +which was that she might have the freedom of Jack's conversation, and +might take him for better or for worse if she pleased; provided always +he did not come into the house at unseasonable hours and disturb the +rest of the old woman, John's mother. + + +OF THE RUDIMENTS OF MARTIN'S LEARNING + +From 'Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus' + + +Mrs. Scriblerus considered it was now time to instruct him in the +fundamentals of religion, and to that end took no small pains in +teaching him his catechism. But Cornelius looked upon this as a tedious +way of instruction, and therefore employed his head to find out more +pleasing methods, the better to induce him to be fond of learning. He +would frequently carry him to the puppet-show of the creation of the +world, where the child, with exceeding delight, gained a notion of the +history of the Bible. His first rudiments in profane history were +acquired by seeing of raree-shows, where he was brought acquainted with +all the princes of Europe. In short, the old gentleman so contrived it +to make everything contribute to the improvement of his knowledge, even +to his very dress. He invented for him a geographical suit of clothes, +which might give him some hints of that science, and likewise some +knowledge of the commerce of different nations. He had a French hat with +an African feather, Holland shirts, Flanders lace, English clothes lined +with Indian silk, his gloves were Italian, and his shoes were Spanish: +he was made to observe this, and daily catechized thereupon, which his +father was wont to call "traveling at home." He never gave him a fig or +an orange but he obliged him to give an account from what country it +came. In natural history he was much assisted by his curiosity in +sign-posts; insomuch that he hath often confessed he owed to them the +knowledge of many creatures which he never found since in any author, +such as white lions, golden dragons, etc. He once thought the same of +green men, but had since found them mentioned by Kercherus, and verified +in the history of William of Newburg. + +His disposition to the mathematics was discovered very early, by his +drawing parallel lines on his bread and butter, and intersecting them at +equal angles, so as to form the whole superficies into squares. But in +the midst of all these improvements a stop was put to his learning the +alphabet, nor would he let him proceed to the letter D, till he could +truly and distinctly pronounce C in the ancient manner, at which the +child unhappily boggled for near three months. He was also obliged to +delay his learning to write, having turned away the writing-master +because he knew nothing of Fabius's waxen tables. + +Cornelius having read and seriously weighed the methods by which the +famous Montaigne was educated, and resolving in some degree to exceed +them, resolved he should speak and learn nothing but the learned +languages, and especially the Greek; in which he constantly eat and +drank, according to Homer. But what most conduced to his easy attainment +of this language was his love of gingerbread: which his father +observing, caused to be stamped with the letters of the Greek alphabet; +and the child the very first day eat as far as Iota. By his particular +application to this language above the rest, he attained so great a +proficiency therein, that Gronovius ingenuously confesses he durst not +confer with this child in Greek at eight years old; and at fourteen he +composed a tragedy in the same language, as the younger Pliny had done +before him. + +He learned the Oriental languages of Erpenius, who resided some time +with his father for that purpose. He had so early a relish for the +Eastern way of writing, that even at this time he composed (in imitation +of it) 'A Thousand and One Arabian Tales,' and also the 'Persian Tales,' +which have been since translated into several languages, and lately into +our own with particular elegance by Mr. Ambrose Philips. In this work of +his childhood he was not a little assisted by the historical traditions +of his nurse. + + + + +THE ARGONAUTIC LEGEND + + +The legend of the Argonauts relates to the story of a band of heroes who +sailed from Thessaly to Æa, the region of the Sun-god on the remotest +shore of the Black Sea, in quest of a Golden Fleece. The ship Argo bore +the heroes, under the command of Jason, to whom the task had been +assigned by his uncle Pelias. Pelias was the usurper of his nephew's +throne; and for Jason, on his coming to man's estate, he devised the +perilous adventure of fetching the golden fleece of the Speaking Ram +which many years before had carried Phrixus to Æa, or Colchis. Fifty of +the most distinguished Grecian heroes came to Jason's aid, while Argus, +the son of Phrixus, under the guidance of Athena, built the ship, +inserting in the prow, for prophetic advice and furtherance, a piece of +the famous talking oak of Dodona. Tiphys was the steersman, and Orpheus +joined the crew to enliven the weariness of their sea-life with +his harp. + +The heroes came first to Lemnos, where the women had risen in revolt and +slain fathers, brothers, and husbands. Here the voyagers lingered almost +a year; but at last, having taken leave, they came to the southern coast +of Propontis, where the Doliones dwelt under King Cyzicus. Their kind +entertainment among this people was marred by ill-fate; for having +weighed anchor in the night, they were driven back by a storm, and being +mistaken for foes, were fiercely attacked. Cyzicus himself fell by the +hand of Jason. They next touched at the country of the Bebrycians, where +the hero Pollux overcame the king in a boxing-match and bound him to a +tree; and thence to Salmydessus, to consult the soothsayer Phineus. In +gratitude for their freeing him from the Harpies, who, as often as his +table was set, descended out of the clouds upon his food and defiled it, +the prophet directed them safe to Colchis. The heroes rowing with might, +thus passed the Symplegades, two cliffs which opened and shut with such +swift violence that a bird could scarce fly through the passage. The +rocks were held apart with the help of Athena, and from that day they +became fixed and harmless. Further on, they came in sight of Mount +Caucasus, saw the eagle which preyed on the vitals of Prometheus, and +heard the sufferer's woeful cries. So their journey was accomplished, +and they arrived at Æa, and the palace of King Æetes. + +When the king heard the errand of the heroes he was moved against them, +and refused to give up the fleece except on terms which he thought +Jason durst not comply with. Two bulls, snorting fire, with feet of +brass, Jason was required to yoke, and with them plow a field and sow +the land with dragon's teeth. Here the heavenly powers came to the +hero's aid, and Hera and Athena prayed Aphrodite to send the shaft of +Cupid upon Medea, the youthful daughter of the king. Thus it came about +that Medea conceived a great passion for the young hero, and with the +magic which she knew she made for him a salve. The salve rendered his +body invulnerable. He yoked the bulls, and ploughed the field, and sowed +the dragon's teeth. A crop of armed men sprang from the sowing, but +Jason, prepared for this marvel by Medea, threw among them a stone which +she had given him, whereupon they fell upon and slew one another. + +But Æetes still refused to fetch the fleece, plotting secretly to burn +the Argo and kill the heroic Argonauts. Medea came to their succor, and +by her black art lulled to sleep the dragon which guarded the fleece. +They seized the pelt, boarded the Argo, and sailed away, taking Medea +with them. When her father followed in pursuit, in the madness of her +love for Jason she slew her brother whom she had with her, and strewed +the fragments of his body upon the wave. The king stopped to recover +them and give them burial, and thus the Argonauts escaped. But the anger +of the gods at this horrible murder led the voyagers in expiation a +wearisome way homeward. For they sailed through the waters of the +Adriatic, the Nile, the circumfluous stream of the earth, passed Scylla +and Charybdis and the Island of the Sun, to Crete and Ægina and many +lands, before the Argo rode once more in Thessalian waters. + +The legend is one of the oldest and most familiar tales of Greece. +Whether it is all poetic myth, or had a certain foundation in fact, it +is impossible now to say. The date, the geography, the heroes, are +mythical; and as in the Homeric poems, the supernatural and seeming +historical are so blended that the union is indissoluble by any analysis +yet found. The theme has touched the imagination of poets from the time +of Apollonius Rhodius, who wrote the 'Argonautica' and went to +Alexandria B.C. 194 to take care of the great library there, to William +Morris, who published his 'Life and Death of Jason' in 1867. Mr. +Morris's version of the contest of Orpheus with the Sirens is given to +illustrate the reality of the old legends to the Greeks themselves. +Jason's later life, his putting away of Medea, his marriage with Glauce, +and the revenge of the deserted princess, furnish the story of the +greatest of the plays of Euripides. + + + THE VICTORY OF ORPHEUS + + From 'The Life and Death of Jason' + + _The Sirens_: + Oh, happy seafarers are ye, + And surely all your ills are past, + And toil upon the land and sea, + Since ye are brought to us at last. + + To you the fashion of the world, + Wide lands laid waste, fair cities burned, + And plagues, and kings from kingdoms hurled, + Are naught, since hither ye have turned. + + For as upon this beach we stand, + And o'er our heads the sea-fowl flit, + Our eyes behold a glorious land, + And soon shall ye be kings of it. + + _Orpheus_: + A little more, a little more, + O carriers of the Golden Fleece, + A little labor with the oar, + Before we reach the land of Greece. + + E'en now perchance faint rumors reach + Men's ears of this our victory, + And draw them down unto the beach + To gaze across the empty sea. + + But since the longed-for day is nigh, + And scarce a god could stay us now, + Why do ye hang your heads and sigh, + And still go slower and more slow? + + _The Sirens_: + Ah, had ye chanced to reach the home + Your fond desires were set upon, + Into what troubles had ye come! + What barren victory had ye won! + + But now, but now, when ye have lain + Asleep with us a little while + Beneath the washing of the main, + How calm shall be your waking smile! + + For ye shall smile to think of life + That knows no troublous change or fear, + No unavailing bitter strife, + That ere its time brings trouble near. + + _Orpheus_: + Is there some murmur in your ears, + That all that we have done is naught, + And nothing ends our cares and fears, + Till the last fear on us is brought? + + _The Sirens_: + Alas! and will ye stop your ears, + In vain desire to do aught, + And wish to live 'mid cares and fears, + Until the last fear makes you naught? + + _Orpheus_: + Is not the May-time now on earth, + When close against the city wall + The folk are singing in their mirth, + While on their heads the May flowers fall? + + _The Sirens_: + Yes, May is come, and its sweet breath + Shall well-nigh make you weep to-day, + And pensive with swift-coming death + Shall ye be satiate of the May. + + _Orpheus_: + Shall not July bring fresh delight, + As underneath green trees ye sit, + And o'er some damsel's body white, + The noon-tide shadows change and flit? + + _The Sirens_: + No new delight July shall bring, + But ancient fear and fresh desire; + And spite of every lovely thing, + Of July surely shall ye tire. + + _Orpheus_: + And now when August comes on thee, + And 'mid the golden sea of corn + The merry reapers thou mayst see, + Wilt thou still think the earth forlorn? + + _The Sirens:_ + Set flowers on thy short-lived head, + And in thine heart forgetfulness + Of man's hard toil, and scanty bread, + And weary of those days no less. + + _Orpheus:_ + Or wilt thou climb the sunny hill, + In the October afternoon, + To watch the purple earth's blood fill + The gray vat to the maiden's tune? + + _The Sirens_: + When thou beginnest to grow old, + Bring back remembrance of thy bliss + With that the shining cup doth hold, + And weary helplessly of this. + + _Orpheus:_ + Or pleasureless shall we pass by + The long cold night and leaden day, + That song and tale and minstrelsy + Shall make as merry as the May? + + _The Sirens:_ + List then, to-night, to some old tale + Until the tears o'erflow thine eyes; + But what shall all these things avail, + When sad to-morrow comes and dies? + + _Orpheus:_ + And when the world is born again, + And with some fair love, side by side, + Thou wanderest 'twixt the sun and rain, + In that fresh love-begetting tide; + + Then, when the world is born again, + And the sweet year before thee lies, + Shall thy heart think of coming pain, + Or vex itself with memories? + + _The Sirens:_ + Ah! then the world is born again + With burning love unsatisfied, + And new desires fond and vain, + And weary days from tide to tide. + + Ah! when the world is born again, + A little day is soon gone by, + When thou, unmoved by sun or rain, + Within a cold straight house shall lie. + + Therewith they ceased awhile, as languidly + The head of Argo fell off toward the sea, + And through the water she began to go; + For from the land a fitful wind did blow, + That, dallying with the many-colored sail, + Would sometimes swell it out and sometimes fail, + As nigh the east side of the bay they drew; + Then o'er the waves again the music flew. + + _The Sirens:_ + Think not of pleasure short and vain, + Wherewith, 'mid days of toil and pain, + With sick and sinking hearts ye strive + To cheat yourselves that ye may live + With cold death ever close at hand. + Think rather of a peaceful land, + The changeless land where ye may be + Roofed over by the changeful sea. + + _Orpheus:_ + And is the fair town nothing then, + The coming of the wandering men + With that long talked-of thing and strange. + And news of how the kingdoms change, + The pointed hands, and wondering + At doers of a desperate thing? + Push on, for surely this shall be + Across a narrow strip of sea. + + _The Sirens:_ + Alas! poor souls and timorous, + Will ye draw nigh to gaze at us + And see if we are fair indeed? + For such as we shall be your meed, + There, where our hearts would have you go. + And where can the earth-dwellers show + In any land such loveliness + As that wherewith your eyes we bless, + O wanderers of the Minyæ, + Worn toilers over land and sea? + + _Orpheus:_ + Fair as the lightning 'thwart the sky, + As sun-dyed snow upon the high + Untrodden heaps of threatening stone + The eagle looks upon alone, + Oh, fair as the doomed victim's wreath, + Oh, fair as deadly sleep and death, + What will ye with them, earthly men, + To mate your threescore years and ten? + Toil rather, suffer and be free, + Betwixt the green earth and the sea. + + _The Sirens:_ + If ye be bold with us to go, + Things such as happy dreams may show + Shall your once heavy lids behold + About our palaces of gold; + Where waters 'neath the waters run, + And from o'erhead a harmless sun + Gleams through the woods of chrysolite. + There gardens fairer to the sight + Than those of the Phæacian king + Shall ye behold; and, wondering, + Gaze on the sea-born fruit and flowers, + And thornless and unchanging bowers, + Whereof the May-time knoweth naught. + + So to the pillared house being brought, + Poor souls, ye shall not be alone, + For o'er the floors of pale blue stone + All day such feet as ours shall pass, + And 'twixt the glimmering walls of glass, + Such bodies garlanded with gold, + So faint, so fair, shall ye behold, + And clean forget the treachery + Of changing earth and tumbling sea. + + _Orpheus:_ + Oh the sweet valley of deep grass, + Where through the summer stream doth pass, + In chain of shadow, and still pool, + From misty morn to evening cool; + Where the black ivy creeps and twines + O'er the dark-armed, red-trunkèd pines. + Whence clattering the pigeon flits, + Or brooding o'er her thin eggs sits, + And every hollow of the hills + With echoing song the mavis fills. + There by the stream, all unafraid, + Shall stand the happy shepherd maid, + Alone in first of sunlit hours; + Behind her, on the dewy flowers, + Her homespun woolen raiment lies, + And her white limbs and sweet gray eyes + Shine from the calm green pool and deep, + While round about the swallows sweep, + Not silent; and would God that we, + Like them, were landed from the sea. + + _The Sirens:_ + Shall we not rise with you at night, + Up through the shimmering green twilight, + That maketh there our changeless day, + Then going through the moonlight gray, + Shall we not sit upon these sands, + To think upon the troublous lands + Long left behind, where once ye were, + When every day brought change and fear! + There, with white arms about you twined, + And shuddering somewhat at the wind + That ye rejoiced erewhile to meet, + Be happy, while old stories sweet, + Half understood, float round your ears, + And fill your eyes with happy tears. + Ah! while we sing unto you there, + As now we sing, with yellow hair + Blown round about these pearly limbs, + While underneath the gray sky swims + The light shell-sailor of the waves, + And to our song, from sea-filled caves + Booms out an echoing harmony, + Shall ye not love the peaceful sea? + + _Orpheus:_ + Nigh the vine-covered hillocks green, + In days agone, have I not seen + The brown-clad maidens amorous, + Below the long rose-trellised house, + Dance to the querulous pipe and shrill, + When the gray shadow of the hill + Was lengthening at the end of day? + Not shadowy or pale were they, + But limbed like those who 'twixt the trees + Follow the swift of goddesses. + Sunburnt they are somewhat, indeed, + To where the rough brown woolen weed + Is drawn across their bosoms sweet, + Or cast from off their dancing feet; + But yet the stars, the moonlight gray, + The water wan, the dawn of day, + Can see their bodies fair and white + As hers, who once, for man's delight, + Before the world grew hard and old, + Came o'er the bitter sea and cold; + And surely those that met me there + Her handmaidens and subjects were; + And shame-faced, half-repressed desire + Had lit their glorious eyes with fire, + That maddens eager hearts of men. + Oh, would that I were with them when + The risen moon is gathering light, + And yellow from the homestead white + The windows gleam; but verily + This waits us o'er a little sea. + + _The Sirens:_ + Come to the land where none grows old, + And none is rash or over-bold + Nor any noise there is or war, + Or rumor from wild lands afar, + Or plagues, or birth and death of kings; + No vain desire of unknown things + Shall vex you there, no hope or fear + Of that which never draweth near; + But in that lovely land and still + Ye may remember what ye will, + And what ye will, forget for aye. + So while the kingdoms pass away, + Ye sea-beat hardened toilers erst, + Unresting, for vain fame athirst, + Shall be at peace for evermore, + With hearts fulfilled of Godlike lore, + And calm, unwavering Godlike love, + No lapse of time can turn or move. + There, ages after your fair fleece + Is clean forgotten, yea, and Greece + Is no more counted glorious, + Alone with us, alone with us, + Alone with us, dwell happily, + Beneath our trembling roof of sea. + + _Orpheus_: + Ah! do ye weary of the strife, + And long to change this eager life + For shadowy and dull hopelessness, + Thinking indeed to gain no less + Than this, to die, and not to die, + To be as if ye ne'er had been, + Yet keep your memory fresh and green, + To have no thought of good or ill, + Yet keep some thrilling pleasure still? + Oh, idle dream! Ah, verily + If it shall happen unto me + That I have thought of anything, + When o'er my bones the sea-fowl sing, + And I lie dead, how shall I pine + For those fresh joys that once were mine, + On this green fount of joy and mirth, + The ever young and glorious earth; + Then, helpless, shall I call to mind + Thoughts of the flower-scented wind, + The dew, the gentle rain at night, + The wonder-working snow and white, + The song of birds, the water's fall, + The sun that maketh bliss of all; + Yea, this our toil and victory, + The tyrannous and conquered sea. + + _The Sirens_: + Ah, will ye go, and whither then + Will ye go from us, soon to die, + To fill your threescore years and ten + With many an unnamed misery? + + And this the wretchedest of all, + That when upon your lonely eyes + The last faint heaviness shall fall, + Ye shall bethink you of our cries. + Come back, nor, grown old, seek in vain + To hear us sing across the sea; + Come back, come back, come back again, + Come back, O fearful Minyæ! + + _Orpheus_: + Ah, once again, ah, once again, + The black prow plunges through the sea; + Nor yet shall all your toil be vain, + Nor ye forget, O Minyæ! + + + + +LUDOVICO ARIOSTO + +(1474-1533) + +BY L. OSCAR KUHNS + + +Among the smaller principalities of Italy during the fifteenth and +sixteenth centuries, none was more brilliant than the court of Ferrara, +and none more intimately connected with the literature of the times. +Here, on September 8th, 1474, was born Ludovico Ariosto, the great poet +of the Renaissance. Here, like Boiardo before him and Tasso after him, +he lived and wrote; and it was to the family of Este that he dedicated +that poem in which are seen, as in a mirror, the gay life, the +intellectual brilliancy, and the sensuous love for beauty which mark the +age. At seventeen he began the study of the law, which he soon abandoned +for the charms of letters. Most of his life was passed in the service +first of Cardinal d'Este, and afterward of the Duke of Ferrara. But the +courtier never overcame the poet, who is said to have begun the famous +'Orlando Furioso' at the age of thirty, and never to have ceased the +effort to improve it. + +The literary activity of Ariosto showed itself in the composition of +comedies and satires, as well as in that of his immortal epic. The +comedies were written for the court theatre of Ferrara, to which he +seems to have had some such relation as that of Goethe to the theatre at +Weimar. The later comedies are much better than the early ones, which +are but little more than translations from Plautus and Terence. In +general, however, the efforts of Ariosto in this direction are far less +important than the 'Orlando' or the 'Satires.' At the first appearance +of his plays they were enormously successful, and the poet was hailed as +a great dramatic genius. But these comedies are interesting to-day +chiefly from the fact that Ariosto was one of the very first of the +writers of modern comedy, and was the leader of that movement in Italy +and France which prepared the way for Molière. + +Of more importance than the comedies, and second only in interest to the +'Orlando' are the 'Satires' seven in number, the first written in 1517 +and the last in 1531, thus representing the maturer life of the poet. +Nearly everything we know of Ariosto's character is taken from this +source. He reveals himself in them as a man who excites neither our +highest admiration nor our contempt. He was not born to be a statesman, +nor a courtier, nor a man of affairs; and his life as ambassador of +Cardinal Ippolito, and as captain of Garafagno, was not at all to his +liking. His one longing through all the busy years of his life was for a +quiet home, where he could live in liberty and enjoy the comforts of +cultured leisure. A love of independence was a marked trait of his +character, and it must often have galled him to play the part he did at +the court of Ferrara. As a satirist he was no Juvenal or Persius. He was +not stirred to profound indignation by the evils about him, of which +there were enough in that brilliant but corrupt age. He discussed in +easy, familiar style, the foibles of his fellow-men, and especially the +events of his own life and the traits of his own character. + +The same views of life, the same tolerant temper, which are seen in the +'Satires,' form an important part of the 'Orlando Furioso,' where they +take the form of little dissertations, introduced at the beginning of a +canto, or scattered through the body of the poem. These reflections are +full of practical sense and wisdom, and remind us of the familiar +conversation with the reader which forms so great a charm in +Thackeray's novels. + +In the Italian Renaissance there is a curious mingling of classical and +romantic influences, and the generation which gave itself up +passionately to the study of Greek and Latin still read with delight the +stories of the Paladins of Charlemagne and the Knights of the Round +Table. What Sir Thomas Malory had done in English prose, Boiardo did in +Latin poetry. When Ariosto entered the service of Cardinal Ippolito, +every one was reading the 'Orlando Innamorato,' and the young poet soon +fell under the charm of these stories; so that when the inward impulse +which all great poets feel toward the work of creation came to him, he +took the material already at hand and continued the story of 'Orlando.' +With a certain skill and inventiveness, Boiardo had mingled together the +epic cycles of Arthur and Charlemagne. He had shown the Saracen host +under King Agramante driving the army of Charlemagne before them, until +the Christians had finally been shut up within the walls of Paris. It +was at this critical moment in his poem that Boiardo died. Ariosto +took up the story where he had left it, and carried it on until the +final defeat of Agramante, and his death at the hands of Orlando in the +desert island. + +[Illustration: LODOVICO ARIOSTO.] + +But we must not think that the 'Orlando Furioso' has one definite plot. +At first reading we are confused by the multiplicity of incident, by the +constant change of scene, and by the breaking off of one story to make +place for another. In a single canto the scene changes from France to +Africa, and by means of winged horses tremendous distances are traveled +over in a day. On closer examination we find that this confusion is only +apparent. The poet himself is never confused, but with sure hand he +manipulates the many-colored threads which are wrought into the fabric +of the poem. The war between the Saracens and the Christians is a sort +of background or stage; a rallying point for the characters. In reality +it attracts but slightly our attention or interest. Again, Orlando's +love for Angelica, and his madness,--although the latter gave the title +to the book, and both afford some of the finest episodes,--have no +organic connection with the whole. The real subject, if any there be, is +the loves of Ruggiero and Bradamante. These are the supposed ancestors +of the house of Este, and it is with their final union, after many +vicissitudes, that the poem ends. + +But the real purpose of Ariosto was to amuse the reader by countless +stories of romantic adventure. It was not as a great creative genius, as +the inventor of new characters, as the earnest and philosophical +reformer, that he appears to mankind, but as the supreme artist. Ariosto +represents in its highest development that love for form, that +perfection of style, which is characteristic of the Latin races as +distinguished from the Teutonic. It is this that makes the 'Orlando +Furioso' the great epic of the Renaissance, and that caused Galileo to +bestow upon the poet the epithet "divine." + +For nearly thirty years Ariosto changed and polished these lines, so +that the edition of 1532 is quite different from that of 1516. The +stanzas in which the poem is written are smooth and musical, the +language is so chosen as always to express the exact shade of thought, +the interest never flags. What seems the arbitrary breaking off of a +story before its close is really the art of the poet; for he knows, were +each episode to be told by itself, we should have only a string of +_novelle_, and not the picture he desired to paint,--that of the world +of chivalry, with its knights-errant in search of adventures, its +damsels in distress, its beautiful gardens and lordly palaces, its +hermits and magicians, its hippogriffs and dragons, and all the +paraphernalia of magic art. + +Ariosto's treatment of chivalry is peculiar to himself. Spenser in the +sixteenth century, and Lord Tennyson in our own day, pictured its +virtues and noble aspirations. In his immortal 'Don Quixote,' Cervantes +held its extravagances up to ridicule. In Ariosto's day no one believed +any longer in the heroes or the ideals of chivalry, nor did the poet +himself; hence there is an air of unreality about the poem. The figures +that pass before us, although they have certain characteristics of their +own, are not real beings, but those that dwell in a land of fancy. As +the poet tells these stories of a bygone age, a smile of irony plays +upon his face; he cannot take them seriously; and while he never goes so +far as to turn into ridicule the ideals of chivalry, yet, in such +episodes as the prodigious exploits of Rodomonte within the walls of +Paris, and the voyage of Astolfo to the moon, he does approach +dangerously near to the burlesque. + +We are not inspired by large and noble thoughts in reading the 'Orlando +Furioso.' We are not deeply stirred by pity or terror. No lofty +principles are inculcated. Even the pathetic scenes, such as the death +of Zerbino and Isabella, stir no real emotion in us, but we experience a +sense of the artistic effect of a poetic death. + +It is not often, in these days of the making of many books of which +there is no end, that one has time to read a poem which is longer than +the 'Iliad' and the 'Odyssey' together. But there is a compelling charm +about the 'Orlando,' and he who sits down to read it with serious +purpose will soon find himself under the spell of an attraction which +comes from unflagging interest and from perfection of style and +construction. No translation can convey an adequate sense of this beauty +of color and form; but the versions of William Stewart Rose, here cited, +suggest the energy, invention, and intensity of the epic. + +In 1532 Ariosto published his final edition of the poem, now enlarged to +forty-six cantos, and retouched from beginning to end. He died not long +afterward, in 1533, and was buried in the church of San Benedetto, where +a magnificent monument marks his resting-place. + +[Illustration: Signature L. OSCAR KUHNS] + + + THE FRIENDSHIP OF MEDORO AND CLORIDANE + +From 'Orlando Furioso,' Cantos 18 and 19 + + Two Moors among the Paynim army were, + From stock obscure in Ptolomita grown; + Of whom the story, an example rare + Of constant love, is worthy to be known. + Medore and Cloridane were named the pair; + Who, whether Fortune pleased to smile or frown, + Served Dardinello with fidelity, + And late with him to France had crost the sea. + + Of nimble frame and strong was Cloridane, + Throughout his life a follower of the chase. + A cheek of white, suffused with crimson grain, + Medoro had, in youth, a pleasing grace; + Nor bound on that emprize, 'mid all the train, + Was there a fairer or more jocund face. + Crisp hair he had of gold, and jet-black eyes; + And seemed an angel lighted from the skies. + + These two were posted on a rampart's height, + With more to guard the encampment from surprise, + When 'mid the equal intervals, at night, + Medoro gazed on heaven with sleepy eyes. + In all his talk, the stripling, woeful wight, + Here cannot choose, but of his lord devise, + The royal Dardinel; and evermore + Him left unhonored on the field, deplore. + + Then, turning to his mate, cries, "Cloridane, + I cannot tell thee what a cause of woe + It is to me, my lord upon the plain + Should lie, unworthy food for wolf or crow! + Thinking how still to me he was humane, + Meseems, if in his honor I forego + This life of mine, for favors so immense + I shall but make a feeble recompense. + + "That he may not lack sepulture, will I + Go forth, and seek him out among the slain; + And haply God may will that none shall spy + Where Charles's camp lies hushed. Do thou remain; + That, if my death be written in the sky, + Thou may'st the deed be able to explain. + So that if Fortune foil so far a feat, + The world, through Fame, my loving heart may weet." + + Amazed was Cloridane a child should show + Such heart, such love, and such fair loyalty; + And fain would make the youth his thought forego, + Whom he held passing dear: but fruitlessly + Would move his steadfast purpose; for such woe + Will neither comforted nor altered be. + Medoro is disposed to meet his doom, + Or to inclose his master in the tomb. + + Seeing that naught would bend him, naught would move, + "I too will go," was Cloridane's reply: + "In such a glorious act myself will prove; + As well such famous death I covet, I. + What other thing is left me, here above, + Deprived of thee, Medoro mine? To die + With thee in arms is better, on the plain, + Than afterwards of grief, shouldst thou be slain." + + And thus resolved, disposing in their place + Their guard's relief, depart the youthful pair, + Leave fosse and palisade, and in small space + Are among ours, who watch with little care; + Who, for they little fear the Paynim race, + Slumber with fires extinguished everywhere. + 'Mid carriages and arms they lie supine, + Up to the eyes immersed in sleep and wine. + + A moment Cloridano stopt, and cried, + "Not to be lost are opportunities. + This troop, by whom my master's blood was shed, + Medoro, ought not I to sacrifice? + Do thou, lest any one this way be led, + Watch everywhere about, with ears and eyes; + For a wide way, amid the hostile horde, + I offer here to make thee with my sword." + + So said he, and his talk cut quickly short, + Coming where learned Alpheus slumbered nigh; + Who had the year before sought Charles's court, + In med'cine, magic, and astrology + Well versed: but now in art found small support, + Or rather found that it was all a lie. + He had foreseen that he his long-drawn life + Should finish on the bosom of his wife. + + And now the Saracen with wary view + Had pierced his weasand with the pointed sword. + Four others he near that Diviner slew, + Nor gave the wretches time to say a word. + Sir Turpin in his story tells not who, + And Time has of their names effaced record. + Palidon of Moncalier next he speeds; + One who securely sleeps between two steeds. + + * * * * * + + Rearing th' insidious blade, the pair are near + The place where round King Charles's pavilion + Are tented warlike paladin and peer, + Guarding the side that each is camped upon, + When in good time the Paynims backward steer, + And sheathe their swords, the impious slaughter done; + Deeming impossible, in such a number, + But they must light on one who does not slumber. + + And though they might escape well charged with prey, + To save themselves they think sufficient gain. + Thither by what he deems the safest way + (Medoro following him) went Cloridane + Where in the field, 'mid bow and falchion lay, + And shield and spear, in pool of purple stain, + Wealthy and poor, the king and vassal's corse, + And overthrown the rider and his horse. + + * * * * * + + The silvery splendor glistened yet more clear, + There where renowned Almontes's son lay dead. + Faithful Medoro mourned his master dear, + Who well agnized the quartering white and red, + With visage bathed in many a bitter tear + (For he a rill from either eyelid shed), + And piteous act and moan, that might have whist + The winds, his melancholy plaint to list; + + But with a voice supprest--not that he aught + Regards if any one the noise should hear, + Because he of his life takes any thought, + Of which loathed burden he would fain be clear; + But lest his being heard should bring to naught + The pious purpose which has brought them here-- + The youths the king upon their shoulders stowed; + And so between themselves divide the load. + + Hurrying their steps, they hastened, as they might, + Under the cherished burden they conveyed; + And now approaching was the lord of light, + To sweep from heaven the stars, from earth the shade, + When good Zerbino, he whose valiant sprite + Was ne'er in time of need by sleep down-weighed, + From chasing Moors all night, his homeward way + Was taking to the camp at dawn of day. + + He has with him some horsemen in his train, + That from afar the two companions spy. + Expecting thus some spoil or prize to gain, + They, every one, toward that quarter hie. + "Brother, behoves us," cried young Cloridane, + "To cast away the load we bear, and fly; + For 'twere a foolish thought (might well be said) + To lose _two_ living men, to save _one_ dead;" + + And dropt the burden, weening his Medore + Had done the same by it, upon his side; + But that poor boy, who loved his master more, + His shoulders to the weight alone applied: + Cloridane hurrying with all haste before, + Deeming him close behind him or beside; + Who, did he know his danger, him to save + A thousand deaths, instead of one, would brave. + + * * * * * + + The closest path, amid the forest gray, + To save himself, pursued the youth forlorn; + But all his schemes were marred by the delay + Of that sore weight upon his shoulders borne. + The place he knew not, and mistook the way, + And hid himself again in sheltering thorn. + Secure and distant was his mate, that through + The greenwood shade with lighter shoulders flew. + + So far was Cloridane advanced before, + He heard the boy no longer in the wind; + But when he marked the absence of Medore, + It seemed as if his heart was left behind. + "Ah! how was I so negligent," (the Moor + Exclaimed) "so far beside myself, and blind, + That, I, Medoro, should without thee fare, + Nor know when I deserted thee or where?" + + So saying, in the wood he disappears, + Plunging into the maze with hurried pace; + And thither, whence he lately issued, steers, + And, desperate, of death returns in trace. + Cries and the tread of steeds this while he hears, + And word and threat of foeman, as in chase; + Lastly Medoro by his voice is known, + Disarmed, on foot, 'mid many horse, alone. + + A hundred horsemen who the youth surround, + Zerbino leads, and bids his followers seize + The stripling; like a top the boy turns round + And keeps him as he can: among the trees, + Behind oak, elm, beech, ash, he takes his ground, + Nor from the cherished load his shoulders frees. + Wearied, at length, the burden he bestowed + Upon the grass, and stalked about his load. + + As in her rocky cavern the she-bear, + With whom close warfare Alpine hunters wage, + Uncertain hangs about her shaggy care, + And growls in mingled sound of love and rage, + To unsheath her claws, and blood her tushes bare, + Would natural hate and wrath the beast engage; + Love softens her, and bids from strife retire, + And for her offspring watch, amid her ire. + + Cloridane, who to aid him knows not how, + And with Medoro willingly would die, + But who would not for death this being forego, + Until more foes than one should lifeless lie, + Ambushed, his sharpest arrow to his bow + Fits, and directs it with so true an eye, + The feathered weapon bores a Scotchman's brain, + And lays the warrior dead upon the plain. + + Together, all the others of the band + Turned thither, whence was shot the murderous reed; + Meanwhile he launched another from his stand, + That a new foe might by the weapon bleed, + Whom (while he made of _this_ and _that_ demand, + And loudly questioned who had done the deed) + The arrow reached--transfixed the wretch's throat + And cut his question short in middle note. + + Zerbino, captain of those horse, no more + Can at the piteous sight his wrath refrain; + In furious heat he springs, upon Medore, + Exclaiming, "Thou of this shalt bear the pain." + One hand he in his locks of golden ore + Enwreaths, and drags him to himself amain; + But as his eyes that beauteous face survey, + Takes pity on the boy, and does not slay. + + To him the stripling turns, with suppliant cry, + And, "By thy God, sir knight," exclaims, "I pray, + Be not so passing cruel, nor deny + That I in earth my honored king may lay: + No other grace I supplicate, nor I + This for the love of life, believe me, say. + So much, no longer, space of life I crave, + As may suffice to give my lord a grave. + + "And if you needs must feed the beast and bird, + Like Theban Creon, let their worst be done + Upon these limbs; so that by me interred + In earth be those of good Almontes's son." + Medoro thus his suit, with grace, preferred, + And words to move a mountain; and so won + Upon Zerbino's mood, to kindness turned, + With love and pity he all over burned. + + This while, a churlish horseman of the band, + Who little deference for his lord confest, + His lance uplifting, wounded overhand + The unhappy suppliant in his dainty breast. + Zerbino, who the cruel action scanned, + Was deeply stirred, the rather that, opprest, + And livid with the blow the churl had sped, + Medoro fell as he was wholly dead. + + * * * * * + + The Scots pursue their chief, who pricks before, + Through the deep wood, inspired by high disdain, + When he has left the one and the other Moor, + _This_ dead, _that_ scarce alive, upon the plain. + There for a mighty space lay young Medore, + Spouting his life-blood from so large a vein + He would have perished, but that thither made + A stranger, as it chanced, who lent him aid. + + + THE SAVING OF MEDORO + + From 'Orlando Furioso,' Canto 19 + + By chance arrived a damsel at the place, + Who was (though mean and rustic was her wear) + Of royal presence and of beauteous face, + And lofty manners, sagely debonnair. + Her have I left unsung so long a space, + That you will hardly recognize the fair + Angelica: in her (if known not) scan + The lofty daughter of Catay's great khan. + + Angelica, when she had won again + The ring Brunello had from her conveyed, + So waxed in stubborn pride and haught disdain, + She seemed to scorn this ample world, and strayed + Alone, and held as cheap each living swain, + Although amid the best by fame arrayed; + Nor brooked she to remember a gallant + In Count Orlando or King Sacripant: + + And above every other deed repented, + That good Rinaldo she had loved of yore; + And that to look so low she had consented, + (As by such choice dishonored) grieved her sore. + Love, hearing this, such arrogance resented, + And would the damsel's pride endure no more. + Where young Medoro lay he took his stand, + And waited her, with bow and shaft in hand. + + When fair Angelica the stripling spies, + Nigh hurt to death in that disastrous fray, + Who for his king, that there unsheltered lies, + More sad than for his own misfortune lay, + She feels new pity in her bosom rise, + Which makes its entry in unwonted way. + Touched was her naughty heart, once hard and curst, + And more when he his piteous tale rehearsed. + + And calling back to memory her art, + For she in Ind had learned chirurgery, + (Since it appears such studies in that part + Worthy of praise and fame are held to be, + And, as an heirloom, sires to sons impart, + With little aid of books, the mystery,) + Disposed herself to work with simples' juice, + Till she in him should healthier life produce. + + And recollects an herb had caught her sight + In passing thither, on a pleasant plain: + What (whether dittany or pancy hight) + I know not; fraught with virtue to restrain + The crimson blood forth-welling, and of might + To sheathe each perilous and piercing pain. + She found it near, and having pulled the weed, + Returned to seek Medoro on the mead. + + Returning, she upon a swain did light, + Who was on horseback passing through the wood. + Strayed from the lowing herd, the rustic wight + A heifer missing for two days pursued. + Him she with her conducted, where the might + Of the faint youth was ebbing with his blood: + Which had the ground about so deeply dyed + Life was nigh wasted with the gushing tide. + + Angelica alights upon the ground, + And he, her rustic comrade, at her best. + She hastened 'twixt two stones the herb to pound, + Then took it, and the healing juice exprest: + With this did she foment the stripling's wound, + And even to the hips, his waist and breast; + And (with such virtue was the salve endued) + It stanched his life-blood, and his strength renewed. + + And into him infused such force again, + That he could mount the horse the swain conveyed; + But good Medoro would not leave the plain + Till he in earth had seen his master laid. + He, with the monarch, buried Cloridane, + And after followed whither pleased the maid. + Who was to stay with him, by pity led, + Beneath the courteous shepherd's humble shed. + + Nor would the damsel quit the lowly pile + (So she esteemed the youth) till he was sound; + Such pity first she felt, when him erewhile + She saw outstretched and bleeding on the ground. + Touched by his mien and manners next, a file + She felt corrode her heart with secret wound; + She felt corrode her heart, and with desire, + By little and by little warmed, took fire. + + The shepherd dwelt between two mountains hoar, + In goodly cabin, in the greenwood shade, + With wife and children; in short time before, + The brand-new shed had builded in the glade. + Here of his grisly wound the youthful Moor + Was briefly healed by the Catayan maid; + But who in briefer space, a sorer smart + Than young Medoro's, suffered at her heart. + +[She pines for love of him, and at length makes her love known. They +solemnize their marriage, and remain a month there with great happiness.] + + Amid such pleasures, where, with tree o'ergrown, + Ran stream, or bubbling fountain's wave did spin, + On bark or rock, if yielding were the stone, + The knife was straight at work, or ready pin. + And there, without, in thousand places lone, + And in as many places graved, within, + Medoro and Angelica were traced, + In divers ciphers quaintly interlaced. + + When she believed they had prolonged their stay + More than enow, the damsel made design + In India to revisit her Catay, + And with its crown Medoro's head entwine. + She had upon her wrist an armlet, gay + With costly gems, in witness and in sign + Of love to her by Count Orlando borne, + And which the damsel for long time had worn. + + No love which to the paladin she bears, + But that it costly is and wrought with care, + This to Angelica so much endears, + That never more esteemed was matter rare; + This she was suffered, in the isle of tears, + I know not by what privilege, to wear, + When, naked, to the whale exposed for food + By that inhospitable race and rude. + + She, not possessing wherewithal to pay + The kindly couple's hospitality,-- + Served by them in their cabin, from the day + She there was lodged, with such fidelity,-- + Unfastened from her arm the bracelet gay, + And bade them keep it for her memory. + Departing hence, the lovers climb the side + Of hills, which fertile France from Spain divide. + + + + + THE MADNESS OF ORLANDO + + From 'Orlando Furioso,' Canto 23 + + + The course in pathless woods, which without rein + The Tartar's charger had pursued astray, + Made Roland for two days, with fruitless pain, + Follow him, without tidings of his way. + Orlando reached a rill of crystal vein, + On either bank of which a meadow lay; + Which, stained with native hues and rich, he sees, + And dotted o'er with fair and many trees. + + The mid-day fervor made the shelter sweet + To hardy herd as well as naked swain: + So that Orlando well beneath the heat + Some deal might wince, opprest with plate and chain. + He entered for repose the cool retreat, + And found it the abode of grief and pain; + And place of sojourn more accursed and fell + On that unhappy day, than tongue can tell. + + Turning him round, he there on many a tree + Beheld engraved, upon the woody shore, + What as the writing of his deity + He knew, as soon as he had marked the lore. + This was a place of those described by me, + Whither oft-times, attended by Medore, + From the near shepherd's cot had wont to stray + The beauteous lady, sovereign of Catay. + + In a hundred knots, amid these green abodes, + In a hundred parts, their ciphered names are dight; + Whose many letters are so many goads, + Which Love has in his bleeding heart-core pight. + He would discredit in a thousand modes, + That which he credits in his own despite; + And would perforce persuade himself, _that_ rind + Other Angelica than his had signed. + + "And yet I know these characters," he cried, + "Of which I have so many read and seen; + By her may this Medoro be belied, + And me, she, figured in the name, may mean." + Feeding on such like phantasies, beside + The real truth, did sad Orlando lean + Upon the empty hope, though ill contented, + Which he by self-illusions had fomented. + + But stirred and aye rekindled it, the more + That he to quench the ill suspicion wrought, + Like the incautious bird, by fowler's lore, + Hampered in net or lime; which, in the thought + To free its tangled pinions and to soar, + By struggling is but more securely caught. + Orlando passes thither, where a mountain + O'erhangs in guise of arch the crystal fountain. + + * * * * * + + Here from his horse the sorrowing county lit, + And at the entrance of the grot surveyed + A cloud of words, which seemed but newly writ, + And which the young Medoro's hand had made. + On the great pleasure he had known in it, + This sentence he in verses had arrayed; + Which to his tongue, I deem, might make pretense + To polished phrase; and such in ours the sense:-- + + "Gay plants, green herbage, rill of limpid vein, + And, grateful with cool shade, thou gloomy cave, + Where oft, by many wooed with fruitless pain, + Beauteous Angelica, the child of grave + King Galaphron, within my arms has lain; + For the convenient harborage you gave, + I, poor Medoro, can but in my lays, + As recompense, forever sing your praise. + + "And any loving lord devoutly pray, + Damsel and cavalier, and every one, + Whom choice or fortune hither shall convey, + Stranger or native,--to this crystal run, + Shade, caverned rock, and grass, and plants, to say, + 'Benignant be to you the fostering sun + And moon, and may the choir of nymphs provide, + That never swain his flock may hither guide.'" + + In Arabic was writ the blessing said, + Known to Orlando like the Latin tongue, + Who, versed in many languages, best read + Was in this speech; which oftentimes from wrong + And injury and shame had saved his head, + What time he roved the Saracens among. + But let him boast not of its former boot, + O'erbalanced by the present bitter fruit. + + Three times, and four, and six, the lines impressed + Upon the stone that wretch perused, in vain + Seeking another sense than was expressed, + And ever saw the thing more clear and plain; + And all the while, within his troubled breast, + He felt an icy hand his heart-core strain. + With mind and eyes close fastened on the block, + At length he stood, not differing from the rock. + + Then well-nigh lost all feeling; so a prey + Wholly was he to that o'ermastering woe. + This is a pang, believe the experienced say + Of him who speaks, which does all griefs outgo. + His pride had from his forehead passed away, + His chin had fallen upon his breast below; + Nor found he, so grief-barred each natural vent, + Moisture for tears, or utterance for lament. + + Stifled within, the impetuous sorrow stays, + Which would too quickly issue; so to abide + Water is seen, imprisoned in the vase, + Whose neck is narrow and whose swell is wide; + What time, when one turns up the inverted base, + Toward the mouth, so hastes the hurrying tide, + And in the strait encounters such a stop, + It scarcely works a passage, drop by drop. + + He somewhat to himself returned, and thought + How possibly the thing might be untrue: + That some one (so he hoped, desired, and sought + To think) his lady would with shame pursue; + Or with such weight of jealousy had wrought + To whelm _his_ reason, as should him undo; + And that he, whosoe'er the thing had planned, + Had counterfeited passing well her hand. + + With such vain hope he sought himself to cheat, + And manned some deal his spirits and awoke; + Then prest the faithful Brigliadoro's seat, + As on the sun's retreat his sister broke. + Not far the warrior had pursued his beat, + Ere eddying from a roof he saw the smoke; + Heard noise of dog and kine, a farm espied, + And thitherward in quest of lodging hied. + + Languid, he lit, and left his Brigliador + To a discreet attendant; one undrest + His limbs, one doffed the golden spurs he wore, + And one bore off, to clean, his iron vest. + This was the homestead where the young Medore + Lay wounded, and was here supremely blest. + Orlando here, with other food unfed, + Having supt full of sorrow, sought his bed. + + * * * * * + + Little availed the count his self-deceit; + For there was one who spake of it unsought: + The shepherd-swain, who to allay the heat + With which he saw his guest so troubled, thought + The tale which he was wonted to repeat-- + Of the two lovers--to each listener taught; + A history which many loved to hear, + He now, without reserve, 'gan tell the peer. + + "How at Angelica's persuasive prayer, + He to his farm had carried young Medore, + Grievously wounded with an arrow; where + In little space she healed the angry sore. + But while she exercised this pious care, + Love in her heart the lady wounded more, + And kindled from small spark so fierce a fire, + She burnt all over, restless with desire; + + "Nor thinking she of mightiest king was born, + Who ruled in the East, nor of her heritage, + Forced by too puissant love, had thought no scorn + To be the consort of a poor foot-page." + His story done, to them in proof was borne + The gem, which, in reward for harborage, + To her extended in that kind abode, + Angelica, at parting, had bestowed. + + * * * * * + + In him, forthwith, such deadly hatred breed + That bed, that house, that swain, he will not stay + Till the morn break, or till the dawn succeed, + Whose twilight goes before approaching day. + In haste, Orlando takes his arms and steed, + And to the deepest greenwood wends his way. + And when assured that he is there alone, + Gives utterance to his grief in shriek and groan. + + Never from tears, never from sorrowing, + He paused; nor found he peace by night or day; + He fled from town, in forest harboring, + And in the open air on hard earth lay. + He marveled at himself, how such a spring + Of water from his eyes could stream away, + And breath was for so many sobs supplied; + And thus oft-times, amid his mourning, cried:-- + + * * * * * + + "I am not--am not what I seem to sight: + What Roland was, is dead and under ground, + Slain by that most ungrateful lady's spite, + Whose faithlessness inflicted such a wound. + Divided from the flesh, I am his sprite, + Which in this hell, tormented, walks its round, + To be, but in its shadow left above, + A warning to all such as trust in love." + + All night about the forest roved the count, + And, at the break of daily light, was brought + By his unhappy fortune to the fount, + Where his inscription young Medoro wrought. + To see his wrongs inscribed upon that mount + Inflamed his fury so, in him was naught + But turned to hatred, frenzy, rage, and spite; + Nor paused he more, but bared his falchion bright, + + Cleft through the writing; and the solid block, + Into the sky, in tiny fragments sped. + Woe worth each sapling and that caverned rock + Where Medore and Angelica were read! + So scathed, that they to shepherd or to flock + Thenceforth shall never furnish shade or bed. + And that sweet fountain, late so clear and pure, + From such tempestous wrath was ill secure. + + * * * * * + + So fierce his rage, so fierce his fury grew, + That all obscured remained the warrior's sprite; + Nor, for forgetfulness, his sword he drew, + Or wondrous deeds, I trow, had wrought the knight; + But neither this, nor bill, nor axe to hew, + Was needed by Orlando's peerless might. + He of his prowess gave high proofs and full, + Who a tall pine uprooted at a pull. + + He many others, with as little let + As fennel, wall-wort-stem, or dill uptore; + And ilex, knotted oak, and fir upset, + And beech and mountain ash, and elm-tree hoar. + He did what fowler, ere he spreads his net, + Does, to prepare the champaign for his lore, + By stubble, rush, and nettle stalk; and broke, + Like these, old sturdy trees and stems of oak. + + The shepherd swains, who hear the tumult nigh, + Leaving their flocks beneath the greenwood tree, + Some here, some there, across the forest hie, + And hurry thither, all, the cause to see. + But I have reached such point, my history, + If I o'erpass this bound, may irksome be. + And I my story will delay to end + Rather than by my tediousness offend. + + + + +ARISTOPHANES + +(B.C. 448-380?) + +BY PAUL SHOREY + + +The birth-year of Aristophanes is placed about 448 B.C., on the ground +that he is said to have been almost a boy when his first comedy was +presented in 427. His last play, the 'Plutus,' was produced in 388, and +there is no evidence that he long survived this date. Little is known of +his life beyond the allusions, in the Parabases of the 'Acharnians,' +'Knights,' and 'Wasps,' to his prosecution by Cleon, to his own or his +father's estate at Aegina, and to his premature baldness. He left three +sons who also wrote comedies. + +Aristophanes is the sole extant representative of the so-called Old +Comedy of Athens; a form of dramatic art which developed obscurely under +the shadow of Attic Tragedy in the first half of the fifth century B.C., +out of the rustic revelry of the Phallic procession and Comus song of +Dionysus, perhaps with some outside suggestions from the Megarian farce +and its Sicilian offshoot, the mythological court comedy of Epicharmus. +The chief note of this older comedy for the ancient critics was its +unbridled license of direct personal satire and invective. Eupolis, +Cratinus, and Aristophanes, says Horace, assailed with the utmost +freedom any one who deserved to be branded with infamy. This old +political Comedy was succeeded in the calmer times that followed the +Peloponnesian War by the so-called Middle Comedy (390-320) of Alexis, +Antiphanes, Strattis, and some minor men; which insensibly passed into +the New Comedy (320-250) of Menander and Philemon, known to us in the +reproductions of Terence. And this new comedy, which portrayed types of +private life instead of satirizing noted persons by name, and which, as +Aristotle says, produced laughter by innuendo rather than by scurrility, +was preferred to the "terrible graces" of her elder sister by the gentle +and refined Plutarch, or the critic who has usurped his name in the +'Comparison of Aristophanes and Menander.' The old Attic Comedy has been +variously compared to Charivari, Punch, the comic opera of Offenbach, +and a Parisian 'revue de fin d'année.' There is no good modern analogue. +It is not our comedy of manners, plot, and situation; nor yet is it mere +buffoonery. It is a peculiar mixture of broad political, social, and +literary satire, and polemical discussion of large ideas, with the +burlesque and licentious extravagances that were deemed the most +acceptable service at the festival of the laughter-loving, +tongue-loosening god of the vine. + +[Illustration: ARISTOPHANES] + +The typical plan of an Aristophanic comedy is very simple. The +protagonist undertakes in all apparent seriousness to give a local +habitation and a body to some ingenious fancy, airy speculation, or bold +metaphor: as for example, the procuring of a private peace for a citizen +who is weary of the privations of war; or the establishment of a city in +Cloud-Cuckoo-Land where the birds shall regulate things better than the +featherless biped, man; or the restoration of the eyesight of the +proverbially blind god of Wealth. The attention of the audience is at +once enlisted for the semblance of a plot by which the scheme is put +into execution. The design once effected, the remainder of the play is +given over to a series of loosely connected scenes, ascending to a +climax of absurdity, in which the consequences of the original happy +thought are followed out with a Swiftian verisimilitude of piquant +detail and a Rabelaisian license of uproarious mirth. It rests with the +audience to take the whole as pure extravaganza, or as a _reductio ad +absurdum_ or playful defense of the conception underlying the original +idea. In the intervals between the scenes, the chorus sing rollicking +topical songs or bits of exquisite lyric, or in the name of the poet +directly exhort and admonish the audience in the so-called Parabasis. + +Of Aristophanes's first two plays, the 'Banqueters of Hercules' (427), +and the 'Babylonians' (426), only fragments remain. The impolitic +representation in the latter of the Athenian allies as branded +Babylonian slaves was the ground of Cleon's attack in the courts upon +Aristophanes, or Callistratus in whose name the play was produced. + +The extant plays are the following:-- + + 'The Acharnians,' B.C. 425, shortly after the Athenian defeat + at Delium. The worthy countryman, Dicæopolis, weary of being + cooped up within the Long Walls, and disgusted with the + shameless jobbery of the politicians, sends to Sparta for + samples of peace (the Greek word means also libations) of + different vintages. The Thirty Years' brand smells of nectar + and ambrosia. He accepts it, concludes a private treaty for + himself and friends, and proceeds to celebrate the rural + Dionysia with wife and child, soothing, by an eloquent plea + pronounced in tattered tragic vestments borrowed from + Euripides, the anger of the chorus of choleric Acharnian + charcoal burners, exasperated at the repeated devastation of + their deme by the Spartans. He then opens a market, to which + a jolly Boeotian brings the long-lost, thrice-desired Copaic + eel; while a starveling Megarian, to the huge delight of the + Athenian groundlings, sells his little daughters, disguised + as pigs, for a peck of salt. Finally Dicæopolis goes forth to + a wedding banquet, from which he returns very mellow in the + company of two flute girls; while Lamachus, the head of the + war party, issues forth to do battle with the Boeotians in + the snow, and comes back with a bloody coxcomb. This play was + successfully given in Greek by the students of the University + of Pennsylvania in the spring of 1886, and interestingly + discussed in the Nation of May 6th by Professor Gildersleeve. + +'The Knights,' B.C. 424: named from the chorus of young Athenian +cavaliers who abet the sausage-seller, Agoracritus, egged on by the +discontented family servants (the generals), Nicias and Demosthenes, to +outbid with shameless flattery the rascally Paphlagonian steward, Cleon, +and supplant him in the favor of their testy bean-fed old master, Demos +(or People). At the close, Demos recovers his wits and his youth, and is +revealed sitting enthroned in his glory in the good old Marathonian +Athens of the Violet Crown. The prolongation of the billingsgate in the +contest between Cleon and the sausage-seller grows wearisome to modern +taste; but the portrait of the Demagogue is for all time. + +'The Clouds,' B.C. 423: an attack on Socrates, unfairly taken as an +embodiment of the deleterious and unsettling "new learning," both in the +form of Sophistical rhetoric and "meteorological" speculation. Worthy +Strepsiades, eager to find a new way to pay the debts in which the +extravagance of his horse-racing son Pheidippides has involved him, +seeks to enter the youth as a student in the Thinking-shop or Reflectory +of Socrates, that he may learn to make the worse appear the better +reason, and so baffle his creditors before a jury. The young man, after +much demur and the ludicrous failure of his father, who at first +matriculates in his stead, consents. He listens to the pleas of the just +and unjust argument in behalf of the old and new education, and becomes +himself such a proficient that he demonstrates, in flawless reasoning, +that Euripides is a better poet than Aeschylus, and that a boy is +justified in beating his father for affirming the contrary. Strepsiades +thereupon, cured of his folly, undertakes a subtle investigation into +the timbers of the roof of the Reflectory, with a view to smoking out +the corrupters of youth. Many of the songs sung by or to the clouds, the +patron deities of Socrates's misty lore, are extremely beautiful. +Socrates is made to allude to these attacks of comedy by Plato in the +'Apology,' and, on his last day in prison, in the 'Phædo.' In the +'Symposium' or 'Banquet' of Plato, Aristophanes bursts in upon a company +of friends with whom Socrates is feasting, and drinks with them till +morning; while Socrates forces him and the tragic poet Agathon, both of +them very sleepy, to admit that the true dramatic artist will excel in +both tragedy and comedy. + +'The Wasps,' B.C. 422: a _jeu d'esprit_ turning on the Athenian passion +for litigation. Young Bdelucleon (hate-Cleon) can keep his old father +Philocleon (love-Cleon) out of the courts only by instituting a private +court in his own house. The first culprit, the house-dog, is tried for +stealing a Sicilian cheese, and acquitted by Philocleon's mistaking the +urn of acquittal for that of condemnation. The old man is inconsolable +at the first escape of a victim from his clutches; but finally, +renouncing his folly, takes lessons from his exquisite of a son in the +manners and deportment of a fine gentleman. He then attends a dinner +party, where he betters his instructions with comic exaggeration and +returns home in high feather, singing tipsy catches and assaulting the +watch on his way. The chorus of Wasps, the visible embodiment of a +metaphor found also in Plato's 'Republic,' symbolizes the sting used by +the Athenian jurymen to make the rich disgorge a portion of their +gathered honey. The 'Plaideurs' of Racine is an imitation of this play; +and the _motif_ of the committal of the dog is borrowed by Ben Jonson in +the 'Staple of News.' + +'The Peace,' B.C. 421: in support of the Peace of Nicias, ratified soon +afterward (Grote's 'History of Greece,' Vol. vi., page 492). Trygæus, an +honest vine-dresser yearning for his farm, in parody of the Bellerophon +of Euripides, ascends to heaven on a dung-beetle. He there hauls Peace +from the bottom of the well into which she had been cast by Ares, and +brings her home in triumph to Greece, when she inaugurates a reign of +plenty and uproarious jollity, and celebrates the nuptials of Trygæus +and her handmaid Opora (Harvest-home). + +'The Birds,' B.C. 414. Peisthetærus (Plausible) and Euelpides (Hopeful), +whose names and deeds are perhaps a satire on the unbounded ambition +that brought ruin on Athens at Syracuse, journey to Birdland and +persuade King Hoopoe to induce the birds to build Nephelococcygia or +Cloud-Cuckoo-Burgh in the air between the gods and men, starve out the +gods with a "Melian famine," and rule the world themselves. The gods, +their supplies of incense cut off, are forced to treat, and Peisthetærus +receives in marriage Basileia (Sovereignty), the daughter of Zeus. The +_mise en scène_, with the gorgeous plumage of the bird-chorus, must have +been very impressive, and many of the choric songs are exceedingly +beautiful. There is an interesting account by Professor Jebb in the +Fortnightly Review (Vol. xli.) of a performance of 'The Birds' at +Cambridge in 1884. + +Two plays, B.C. 411: (1) at the Lenæa, 'The Lysistrata,' in which the +women of Athens and Sparta by a secession from bed and board compel +their husbands to end the war; (2) The 'Thesmophoriazusæ' or Women's +Festival of Demeter, a licentious but irresistibly funny assault upon +Euripides. The tragedian, learning that the women in council assembled +are debating on the punishment due to his misogyny, implores the +effeminate poet Agathon to intercede for him. That failing, he +dispatches his kinsman Mnesilochus, disguised with singed beard and +woman's robes, a sight to shake the midriff of despair with laughter, to +plead his cause. The advocate's excess of zeal betrays him; he is +arrested: and the remainder of the play is occupied by the ludicrous +devices, borrowed or parodied from well-known Euripidean tragedies, by +which the poet endeavors to rescue his intercessor. + +'The Frogs,' B.C. 405, in the brief respite of hope between the victory +of Arginusæ and the final overthrow of Athens at Ægospotami. Aeschylus, +Sophocles, and Euripides are dead. The minor bards are a puny folk, and +Dionysus is resolved to descend to Hades in quest of a truly creative +poet, one capable of a figure like "my star god's glow-worm," or "His +honor rooted in dishonor stood." After many surprising adventures by the +way, and in the outer precincts of the underworld, accompanied by his +Sancho Panza, Xanthias, he arrives at the court of Pluto just in time to +be chosen arbitrator of the great contest between Aeschylus and +Euripides for the tragic throne in Hades. The comparisons and parodies +of the styles of Aeschylus and Euripides that follow, constitute, in +spite of their comic exaggeration, one of the most entertaining and +discriminating chapters of literary criticism extant, and give us an +exalted idea of the intelligence of the audience that appreciated them. +Dionysus decides for Æschylus, and leads him back in triumph to the +upper world. + +The 'Ecclesiazusæ' or 'Ladies in Parliament,' B.C. 393: apparently a +satire on the communistic theories which must have been current in the +discussions of the schools before they found definite expression in +Plato's 'Republic.' The ladies of Athens rise betimes, purloin their +husbands' hats and canes, pack the Assembly, and pass a measure to +intrust the reins of government to women. An extravagant and licentious +communism is the result. + +The 'Plutus,' B.C. 388: a second and much altered edition of a play +represented for the first time in 408. With the 'Ecclesiazusæ' it marks +the transition to the Middle Comedy, there being no parabasis, and +little of the exuberant _verve_ of the older pieces. The blind god of +Wealth recovers his eyesight by sleeping in the temple of Æsculapius, +and proceeds to distribute the gifts of fortune more equitably. + +The assignment of the dates and restoration of the plots of the +thirty-two lost plays, of which a few not very interesting fragments +remain, belong to the domain of conjectural erudition. + +Aristophanes has been regarded by some critics as a grave moral censor, +veiling his high purpose behind the grinning mask of comedy; by others +as a buffoon of genius, whose only object was to raise a laugh. Both +sides of the question are ingeniously and copiously argued in Browning's +'Aristophanes' Apology'; and there is a judicious summing up of the case +of Aristophanes _vs_. Euripides in Professor Jebb's lectures on Greek +poetry. The soberer view seems to be that while predominantly a comic +artist, obeying the instincts of his genius, he did frequently make his +comedy the vehicle of an earnest conservative polemic against the new +spirit of the age in Literature, Philosophy, and Politics. He pursued +Euripides with relentless ridicule because his dramatic motives lent +themselves to parody, and his lines were on the lips of every +theatre-goer; but also because he believed that Euripides had spoiled +the old, stately, heroic art of Aeschylus and Sophocles by incongruous +infusions of realism and sentimentalism, and had debased the "large +utterance of the early gods" by an unhallowed mixture of colloquialism, +dialectic, and chicane. + +Aristophanes travestied the teachings of Socrates because his ungainly +figure, and the oddity (_atopia_) attributed to him even by Plato, made +him an excellent butt; yet also because he felt strongly that it was +better for the young Athenian to spend his days in the Palæstra, or +"where the elm-tree whispers to the plane," than in filing a +contentious tongue on barren logomachies. That Socrates in fact +discussed only ethical problems, and disclaimed all sympathy with +speculations about things above our heads, made no difference: he was +the best human embodiment of a hateful educational error. And similarly +the assault upon Cleon, the "pun-pelleting of demagogues from Pnux," was +partly due to the young aristocrat's instinctive aversion to the coarse +popular leader, and to the broad mark which the latter presented to the +shafts of satire, but equally, perhaps, to a genuine patriotic revolt at +the degradation of Athenian politics in the hands of the successors +of Pericles. + +But Aristophanes's ideas interest us less than his art and humor. We +have seen the nature of his plots. In such a topsy-turvy world there is +little opportunity for nice delineation of character. His personages are +mainly symbols or caricatures. Yet they are vividly if broadly sketched, +and genuine touches of human nature lend verisimilitude to their most +improbable actions. One or two traditional comic types appear for the +first time, apparently, on his stage: the alternately cringing and +familiar slave or valet of comedy, in his Xanthias and Karion; and in +Dicæopolis, Strepsiades, Demos, Trygæus, and Dionysus, the sensual, +jovial, shrewd, yet naïve and credulous middle-aged _bourgeois +gentilhomme_ or 'Sganarelle,' who is not ashamed to avow his +poltroonery, and yet can, on occasion, maintain his rights with sturdy +independence. + +But the chief attraction of Aristophanes is the abounding comic force +and _verve_ of his style. It resembles an impetuous torrent, whose swift +rush purifies in its flow the grossness and obscenity inseparable from +the origin of comedy, and buoys up and sweeps along on the current of +fancy and improvisation the chaff and dross of vulgar jests, puns, +scurrilous personalities, and cheap "gags," allowing no time for +chilling reflections or criticism. Jests which are singly feeble combine +to induce a mood of extravagant hilarity when huddled upon us with such +"impossible conveyance." This _vivida vis animi_ can hardly be +reproduced in a translation, and disappears altogether in an attempt at +an abstract enumeration of the poet's inexhaustible devices for comic +effect. He himself repeatedly boasts of the fertility of his invention, +and claims to have discarded the coarse farce of his predecessors for +something more worthy of the refined intelligence of his clever +audience. Yet it must be acknowledged that much even of his wit is the +mere filth-throwing of a naughty boy; or at best the underbred +jocularity of the "funny column," the topical song, or the minstrel +show. There are puns on the names of notable personages; a grotesque, +fantastic, punning fauna, flora, and geography of Greece; a constant +succession of surprises effected by the sudden substitution of low or +incongruous terms in proverbs, quotations, and legal or religious +formulas; scenes in dialect, scenes of excellent fooling in the vein of +Uncle Toby and the Clown, girds at the audience, personalities that for +us have lost their point,--about Cleonymus the caster-away of shields, +or Euripides's herb-selling mother,--and everywhere unstinted service to +the great gods Priapus and Cloacina. + +A finer instrument of comic effect is the parody. The countless parodies +of the lyric and dramatic literature of Greece are perhaps the most +remarkable testimony extant to the intelligence of an Athenian audience. +Did they infallibly catch the allusion when Dicæopolis welcomed back to +the Athenian fish-market the long-lost Copaic eel in high +Æschylean strain,-- + + "Of fifty nymphs Copaic alderliefest queen," + +and then, his voice breaking with the intolerable pathos of Admetus's +farewell to the dying Alcestis, added, + + "Yea, even in death + Thou'lt bide with me, embalmed and beet-bestewed"? + +Did they recognize the blasphemous Pindaric pun in "Helle's holy +straits," for a tight place, and appreciate all the niceties of diction, +metre, and dramatic art discriminated in the comparison between +Aeschylus and Euripides in the 'Frogs'? At any rate, no Athenian could +miss the fun of Dicæopolis (like Hector's baby) "scared at the dazzling +plume and nodding crest" of the swashbuckler Lamachus, of Philocleon, +clinging to his ass's belly like Odysseus escaping under the ram from +the Cyclops's cave; of the baby in the Thesmophoriazusæ seized as a +Euripidean hostage, and turning out a wine bottle in swaddling-clothes; +of light-foot Iris in the rôle of a saucy, frightened soubrette; of the +heaven-defying Æschylean Prometheus hiding under an umbrella from the +thunderbolts of Zeus. And they must have felt instinctively what only a +laborious erudition reveals to us, the sudden subtle modulations of the +colloquial comic verse into mock-heroic travesty of high tragedy +or lyric. + +Euripides, the chief victim of Aristophanes's genius for parody, was so +burlesqued that his best known lines became by-words, and his most +ardent admirers, the very Balaustions and Euthukleses, must have grinned +when they heard them, like a pair of augurs. If we conceive five or six +Shakespearean comedies filled from end to end with ancient Pistols +hallooing to "pampered jades of Asia," and Dr. Caiuses chanting of "a +thousand vagrom posies," we may form some idea of Aristophanes's +handling of the notorious lines-- + + "The tongue has sworn, the mind remains unsworn." + "Thou lovest life, thy sire loves it too." + "Who knows if life and death be truly one?" + +But the charm of Aristophanes does not lie in any of these things +singly, but in the combination of ingenious and paradoxical fancy with +an inexhaustible flow of apt language by which they are held up and +borne out. His personages are ready to make believe anything. Nothing +surprises them long. They enter into the spirit of each new conceit, and +can always discover fresh analogies to bear it out. The very plots of +his plays are realized metaphors or embodied conceits. And the same +concrete vividness of imagination is displayed in single scenes and +episodes. The Better and the Worse Reason plead the causes of the old +and new education in person. Cleon and Brasidas are the pestles with +which War proposes to bray Greece in a mortar; the triremes of Athens in +council assembled declare that they will rot in the docks sooner than +yield their virginity to musty, fusty Hyperbolus. The fair cities of +Greece stand about waiting for the recovery of Peace from her Well, with +dreadful black eyes, poor things; Armisticia and Harvest-Home tread the +stage in the flesh, and Nincompoop and Defraudation are among the gods. + +The special metaphor or conceit of each play attracts appropriate words +and images, and creates a distinct atmosphere of its own. In the +'Knights' the air fairly reeks with the smell of leather and the +tanyard. The 'Birds' transport us to a world of trillings and pipings, +and beaks and feathers. There is a buzzing and a humming and a stinging +throughout the 'Wasps.' The 'Clouds' drip with mist, and are dim with +aërial vaporous effects. + +Aristophanes was the original inventor of Bob Acres's style of oath--the +so-called referential or sentimental swearing. Dicæopolis invokes +Ecbatana when Shamartabas struts upon the stage. Socrates in the +'Clouds' swears by the everlasting vapors. King Hoopoe's favorite oath +is "Odds nets and birdlime." And the vein of humor that lies in +over-ingenious, elaborate, and sustained metaphor was first worked in +these comedies. All these excellences are summed up in the incomparable +wealth and flexibility of his vocabulary. He has a Shakespearean mastery +of the technicalities of every art and mystery, an appalling command of +billingsgate and of the language of the cuisine, and would tire Falstaff +and Prince Hal with base comparisons. And not content with the existing +resources of the Greek vocabulary, he coins grotesque or beautiful +compounds,--exquisite epithets like "Botruodöré" (bestower of the +vine), "heliomanes" (drunk-with-sunlight), "myriad-flagoned +phrases," untranslatable "port-manteaus" like "plouthugieia" +(health-and-wealthfulness), and Gargantuan agglomerations of syllables +like the portentous _olla podrida_ at the end of the 'Ecclesiazusæ.' + +The great comic writer, as the example of Molière proves, need not be a +poet. But the mere overflow of careless poetic power which is +manifested by Aristophanes would have sufficed to set up any ordinary +tragedian or lyrist. In plastic mastery of language only two Greek +writers can vie with him, Plato and Homer. In the easy grace and native +harmony of his verse he outsings all the tragedians, even that Aeschylus +whom he praised as the man who had written the most exquisite songs of +any poet of the time. In his blank verse he easily strikes every note, +from that of the urbane, unaffected, colloquial Attic, to parody of high +or subtle tragic diction hardly distinguishable from its model. He can +adapt his metres to the expression of every shade of feeling. He has +short, snapping, fiery trochees, like sparks from their own holm oak, to +represent the choler of the Acharnians; eager, joyous glyconics to +bundle up a sycophant and hustle him off the stage, or for the young +knights of Athens celebrating Phormio's sea fights, and chanting, +horse-taming Poseidon, Pallas, guardian of the State, and Victory, +companion of the dance; the quickstep march of the trochaic tetrameter +to tell how the Attic wasps, true children of the soil, charged the +Persians at Marathon; and above all--the chosen vehicle of his wildest +conceits, his most audacious fancies, and his strongest appeals to the +better judgment of the citizens--the anapæstic tetrameter, that +"resonant and triumphant" metre of which even Mr. Swinburne's anapæsts +can reproduce only a faint and far-off echo. + +But he has more than the opulent diction and the singing voice of the +poet. He has the key to fairy-land, a feeling for nature which we +thought romantic and modern, and in his lyrics the native wood-notes +wild of his own 'Mousa lochmaia' (the muse of the coppice). The chorus +of the Mystæ in the 'Frogs,' the rustic idyl of the 'Peace,' the songs +of the girls in the 'Lysistrata,' the call of the nightingale, the hymns +of the 'Clouds,' the speech of the "Just Reason," and the grand chorus +of birds, reveal Aristophanes as not only the first comic writer of +Greece, but as one of the very greatest of her poets. + +Among the many editions of Aristophanes, those most useful to the +student and the general reader are doubtless the text edited by Bergk (2 +vols., 1867), and the translations of the five most famous plays by John +Hookham Frere, to be found in his complete works. + +[Illustration: Signature: PAUL SHOREY] + + + + + THE ORIGIN OF THE PELOPONNESIAN WAR + + From 'The Acharnians': Frere's Translation + + DICÆOPOLIS + + Be not surprised, most excellent spectators, + If I that am a beggar have presumed + To claim an audience upon public matters, + Even in a comedy; for comedy + Is conversant in all the rules of justice, + And can distinguish betwixt right and wrong. + + The words I speak are bold, but just and true. + Cleon at least cannot accuse me now, + That I defame the city before strangers, + For this is the Lenæan festival, + And here we meet, all by ourselves alone; + No deputies are arrived as yet with tribute, + No strangers or allies: but here we sit + A chosen sample, clean as sifted corn, + With our own denizens as a kind of chaff. + + First, I detest the Spartans most extremely; + And wish that Neptune, the Tænarian deity, + Would bury them in their houses with his earthquakes. + For I've had losses--losses, let me tell ye, + Like other people; vines cut down and injured. + But among friends (for only friends are here), + Why should we blame the Spartans for all this? + For people of ours, some people of our own,-- + Some people from among us here, I mean: + But not the People (pray, remember that); + I never said the People, but a pack + Of paltry people, mere pretended citizens, + Base counterfeits,--went laying informations, + And making a confiscation of the jerkins + Imported here from Megara; pigs, moreover, + Pumpkins, and pecks of salt, and ropes of onions, + Were voted to be merchandise from Megara, + Denounced, and seized, and sold upon the spot. + + Well, these might pass, as petty local matters. + But now, behold, some doughty drunken youths + Kidnap, and carry away from Megara, + The courtesan, Simætha. Those of Megara, + In hot retaliation, seize a brace + Of equal strumpets, hurried forth perforce + From Dame Aspasia's house of recreation. + So this was the beginning of the war, + All over Greece, owing to these three strumpets. + For Pericles, like an Olympian Jove, + With all his thunder and his thunderbolts, + Began to storm and lighten dreadfully, + Alarming all the neighborhood of Greece; + And made decrees, drawn up like drinking songs, + In which it was enacted and concluded + That the Megarians should remain excluded + From every place where commerce was transacted, + With all their ware--like "old Care" in the ballad: + And this decree, by land and sea, was valid. + + Then the Megarians, being all half starved, + Desired the Spartans to desire of us + Just to repeal those laws: the laws I mentioned, + Occasioned by the stealing of those strumpets. + And so they begged and prayed us several times; + And we refused: and so they went to war. + + + + THE POET'S APOLOGY + + From 'The Acharnians': Frere's Translation. + + Our poet has never as yet + Esteemed it proper or fit + To detain you with a long + Encomiastic song + On his own superior wit; + But being abused and accused, + And attacked of late + As a foe of the State, + He makes an appeal in his proper defense, + To your voluble humor and temper and sense, + With the following plea: + Namely, that he + Never attempted or ever meant + To scandalize + In any wise + Your mighty imperial government. + Moreover he says, + That in various ways + He presumes to have merited honor and praise; + Exhorting you still to stick to your rights, + And no more to be fooled with rhetorical flights; + Such as of late each envoy tries + On the behalf of your allies, + That come to plead their cause before ye, + With fulsome phrase, and a foolish story + Of "violet crowns" and "Athenian glory," + With "sumptuous Athens" at every word: + "Sumptuous Athens" is always heard; + "Sumptuous" ever, a suitable phrase + For a dish of meat or a beast at graze. + He therefore affirms + In confident terms, + That his active courage and earnest zeal + Have usefully served your common weal: + He has openly shown + The style and tone + Of your democracy ruling abroad, + He has placed its practices on record; + The tyrannical arts, the knavish tricks, + That poison all your politics. + Therefore shall we see, this year, + The allies with tribute arriving here, + Eager and anxious all to behold + Their steady protector, the bard so bold; + The bard, they say, that has dared to speak, + To attack the strong, to defend the weak. + His fame in foreign climes is heard, + And a singular instance lately occurred. + It occurred in the case of the Persian king, + Sifting and cross-examining + The Spartan envoys. He demanded + Which of the rival States commanded + The Grecian seas? He asked them next + (Wishing to see them more perplexed) + Which of the two contending powers + Was chiefly abused by this bard of ours? + For he said, "Such a bold, so profound an adviser + By dint of abuse would render them wiser, + More active and able; and briefly that they + Must finally prosper and carry the day." + Now mark the Lacedæmonian guile! + Demanding an insignificant isle! + "Ægina," they say, "for a pledge of peace, + As a means to make all jealousy cease." + Meanwhile their privy design and plan + Is solely to gain this marvelous man-- + Knowing his influence on your fate-- + By obtaining a hold on his estate + Situate in the isle aforesaid. + Therefore there needs to be no more said. + You know their intention, and know that you know it: + You'll keep to your island, and stick to the poet. + And he for his part + Will practice his art + With a patriot heart, + With the honest views + That he now pursues, + And fair buffoonery and abuse: + Not rashly bespattering, or basely beflattering, + Not pimping, or puffing, or acting the ruffian; + Not sneaking or fawning; + But openly scorning + All menace and warning, + All bribes and suborning: + He will do his endeavor on your behalf; + He will teach you to think, he will teach you to laugh. + So Cleon again and again may try; + I value him not, nor fear him, I! + His rage and rhetoric I defy. + His impudence, his politics, + His dirty designs, his rascally tricks, + No stain of abuse on me shall fix. + Justice and right, in his despite, + Shall aid and attend me, and do me right: + With these to friend, I ne'er will bend, + Nor descend + To a humble tone + (Like his own), + As a sneaking loon, + A knavish, slavish, poor poltroon. + + + THE APPEAL OF THE CHORUS + + From 'The Knights': Frere's Translation. + + If A veteran author had wished to engage + Our assistance to-day, for a speech from the stage, + We scarce should have granted so bold a request: + But this author of ours, as the bravest and best, + Deserves an indulgence denied to the rest, + For the courage and vigor, the scorn and the hate, + With which he encounters the pests of the State; + A thoroughbred seaman, intrepid and warm, + Steering outright, in the face of the storm. + + But now for the gentle reproaches he bore + On the part of his friends, for refraining before + To embrace the profession, embarking for life + In theatrical storms and poetical strife. + + He begs us to state that for reasons of weight + He has lingered so long and determined so late. + For he deemed the achievements of comedy hard, + The boldest attempt of a desperate bard! + The Muse he perceived was capricious and coy; + Though many were courting her, few could enjoy. + And he saw without reason, from season to season, + Your humor would shift, and turn poets adrift, + Requiting old friends with unkindness and treason, + Discarded in scorn as exhausted and worn. + + Seeing Magnes's fate, who was reckoned of late + For the conduct of comedy captain and head; + That so oft on the stage, in the flower of his age, + Had defeated the Chorus his rivals had led; + With his sounds of all sort, that were uttered in sport, + With whims and vagaries unheard of before, + With feathers and wings, and a thousand gay things, + That in frolicsome fancies his Choruses wore-- + When his humor was spent, did your temper relent, + To requite the delight that he gave you before? + We beheld him displaced, and expelled and disgraced, + When his hair and his wit were grown aged and hoar. + + Then he saw, for a sample, the dismal example + Of noble Cratinus so splendid and ample, + Full of spirit and blood, and enlarged like a flood; + Whose copious current tore down with its torrent, + Oaks, ashes, and yew, with the ground where they grew, + And his rivals to boot, wrenched up by the root; + And his personal foes, who presumed to oppose, + All drowned and abolished, dispersed and demolished, + And drifted headlong, with a deluge of song. + + And his airs and his tunes, and his songs and lampoons, + Were recited and sung by the old and the young: + At our feasts and carousals, what poet but he? + And "The fair Amphibribe" and "The Sycophant Tree," + "Masters and masons and builders of verse!" + Those were the tunes that all tongues could rehearse; + But since in decay you have cast him away, + Stript of his stops and his musical strings, + Battered and shattered, a broken old instrument, + Shoved out of sight among rubbishy things. + His garlands are faded, and what he deems worst, + His tongue and his palate are parching with thirst. + + And now you may meet him alone in the street, + Wearied and worn, tattered and torn, + All decayed and forlorn, in his person and dress, + Whom his former success should exempt from distress, + With subsistence at large at the general charge, + And a seat with the great at the table of State, + There to feast every day and preside at the play + In splendid apparel, triumphant and gay. + + Seeing Crates, the next, always teased and perplexed, + With your tyrannous temper tormented and vexed; + That with taste and good sense, without waste or expense, + From his snug little hoard, provided your board + With a delicate treat, economic and neat. + Thus hitting or missing, with crowns or with hissing, + Year after year he pursued his career, + For better or worse, till he finished his course. + + These precedents held him in long hesitation; + He replied to his friends, with a just observation, + "That a seaman in regular order is bred + To the oar, to the helm, and to look out ahead; + With diligent practice has fixed in his mind + The signs of the weather, and changes of wind. + And when every point of the service is known, + Undertakes the command of a ship of his own." + + For reasons like these, + If your judgment agrees + That he did not embark + Like an ignorant spark, + Or a troublesome lout, + To puzzle and bother, and blunder about, + Give him a shout, + At his first setting out! + And all pull away + With a hearty huzza + For success to the play! + Send him away, + Smiling and gay, + Shining and florid, + With his bald forehead! + + + THE CLOUD CHORUS + + From 'The Clouds': Andrew Lang's Translation + + SOCRATES SPEAKS + + Hither, come hither, ye Clouds renowned, and unveil yourselves + here; + Come, though ye dwell on the sacred crests of Olympian snow, + Or whether ye dance with the Nereid Choir in the gardens clear, + Or whether your golden urns are dipped in Nile's overflow, + Or whether you dwell by Mæotis mere + Or the snows of Mimas, arise! appear! + And hearken to us, and accept our gifts ere ye rise and go. + + + THE CLOUDS SING + + Immortal Clouds from the echoing shore + Of the father of streams from the sounding sea, + Dewy and fleet, let us rise and soar; + Dewy and gleaming and fleet are we! + Let us look on the tree-clad mountain-crest, + On the sacred earth where the fruits rejoice, + On the waters that murmur east and west, + On the tumbling sea with his moaning voice. + For unwearied glitters the Eye of the Air, + And the bright rays gleam; + Then cast we our shadows of mist, and fare + In our deathless shapes to glance everywhere + From the height of the heaven, on the land and air, + And the Ocean Stream. + Let us on, ye Maidens that bring the Rain, + Let us gaze on Pallas's citadel, + In the country of Cecrops fair and dear, + The mystic land of the holy cell, + Where the Rites unspoken securely dwell, + And the gifts of the gods that know not stain, + And a people of mortals that know not fear. + For the temples tall and the statues fair, + And the feasts of the gods are holiest there; + The feasts of Immortals, the chaplets of flowers, + And the Bromian mirth at the coming of spring, + And the musical voices that fill the hours, + And the dancing feet of the maids that sing! + + + GRAND CHORUS OF BIRDS + + From 'The Birds': Swinburne's Translation + + Come on then, ye dwellers by nature in darkness, and like to the + leaves' generations, + That are little of might, that are molded of mire, unenduring + and shadowlike nations, + Poor plumeless ephemerals, comfortless mortals, as visions of + shadows fast fleeing, + Lift up your mind unto us that are deathless, and dateless the date + of our being; + Us, children of heaven, us, ageless for aye, us, all of whose thoughts + are eternal: + That ye may from henceforth, having heard of us all things aright + as to matters supernal, + Of the being of birds, and beginning of gods, and of streams, and + the dark beyond reaching, + Trustfully knowing aright, in my name bid Prodicus pack with his + preaching! + It was Chaos and Night at the first, and the blackness of darkness, + and Hell's broad border, + Earth was not, nor air, neither heaven; when in depths of the womb + of the dark without order + First thing, first-born of the black-plumed Night, was a wind-egg + hatched in her bosom, + Whence timely with seasons revolving again sweet Love burst out as + a blossom, + Gold wings glittering forth of his back, like whirlwinds gustily + turning. + He, after his wedlock with Chaos, whose wings are of darkness, in + Hell broad-burning, + For his nestlings begat him the race of us first, and upraised us to + light new-lighted. + And before this was not the race of the gods, until all things by Love + were united: + And of kind united in kind with communion of nature the sky and + the sea are + Brought forth, and the earth, and the race of the gods everlasting and + blest. So that we are + Far away the most ancient of all things blest. And that we are of + Love's generation + There are manifest manifold signs. We have wings, and with us have + the Loves habitation; + And manifold fair young folk that forswore love once, ere the bloom + of them ended, + Have the men that pursued and desired them subdued by the help of + us only befriended, + With such baits as a quail, a flamingo, a goose, or a cock's comb + staring and splendid. + All best good things that befall men come from us birds, as is plain + to all reason: + For first we proclaim and make known to them spring, and the + winter and autumn in season; + Bid sow, when the crane starts clanging for Afric in shrill-voiced + emigrant number, + And calls to the pilot to hang up his rudder again for the season and + slumber; + And then weave a cloak for Orestes the thief, lest he strip men of + theirs if it freezes. + And again thereafter the kite reappearing announces a change in + the breezes. + And that here is the season for shearing your sheep of their spring + wool. Then does the swallow + Give you notice to sell your great-coat, and provide something light + for the heat that's to follow. + Thus are we as Ammon or Delphi unto you. Dodona, nay, Phoebus + Apollo. + For, as first ye come all to get auguries of birds, even such is in + all things your carriage, + Be the matter a matter of trade, or of earning your bread, or of any + one's marriage. + And all things ye lay to the charge of a bird that belong to + discerning prediction: + Winged fame is a bird, as you reckon; you sneeze, and the sign's as + a bird for conviction; + All tokens are "birds" with you--sounds, too, and lackeys and donkeys. + Then must it not follow + That we are to you all as the manifest godhead that speaks in + prophetic Apollo? + + + A RAINY DAY ON THE FARM + + From 'The Peace': Frere's Translation + + How sweet it is to see the new-sown cornfield fresh and even, + With blades just springing from the soil that only ask a shower + from heaven. + Then, while kindly rains are falling, indolently to rejoice, + Till some worthy neighbor calling, cheers you with his hearty voice. + Well, with weather such as this, let us hear, Trygæus tell us + What should you and I be doing? You're the king of us good fellows. + Since it pleases heaven to prosper your endeavors, friend, and mine, + Let us have a merry meeting, with some friendly talk and wine. + In the vineyard there's your lout, hoeing in the slop and mud-- + Send the wench and call him out, this weather he can do no good. + Dame, take down two pints of meal, and do some fritters in your way; + Boil some grain and stir it in, and let us have those figs, I say. + Send a servant to my house,--any one that you can spare,-- + Let him fetch a beestings pudding, two gherkins, and the pies of hare: + There should be four of them in all, if the cat has left them right; + We heard her racketing and tearing round the larder all last night, + Boy, bring three of them to us,--take the other to my father: + Cut some myrtle for our garlands, sprigs in flower or blossoms rather. + Give a shout upon the way to Charinades our neighbor, + To join our drinking bout to-day, since heaven is pleased to bless our + labor. + + + THE HARVEST + + From 'The Peace': Translation in the Quarterly Review + + Oh, 'tis sweet, when fields are ringing + With the merry cricket's singing, + Oft to mark with curious eye + If the vine-tree's time be nigh: + Here is now the fruit whose birth + Cost a throe to Mother Earth. + Sweet it is, too, to be telling, + How the luscious figs are swelling; + Then to riot without measure + In the rich, nectareous treasure, + While our grateful voices chime,-- + Happy season! blessed time. + + + THE CALL TO THE NIGHTINGALE + + From 'The Birds ': Frere's Translation + + Awake! awake! + Sleep no more, my gentle mate! + With your tiny tawny bill, + Wake the tuneful echo shrill, + On vale or hill; + Or in her airy rocky seat, + Let her listen and repeat + The tender ditty that you tell, + The sad lament, + The dire event, + To luckless Itys that befell. + Thence the strain + Shall rise again, + And soar amain, + Up to the lofty palace gate + Where mighty Apollo sits in state + In Jove's abode, with his ivory lyre, + Hymning aloud to the heavenly choir, + While all the gods shall join with thee + In a celestial symphony. + + + THE BUILDING OF CLOUD-CUCKOO-TOWN + + From 'The Birds ': Frere's Translation + +[_Enter Messenger, quite out of breath, and speaking in short +snatches_.] + +_Messenger_--Where is he? Where? Where is he? Where? Where +is he?--The president Peisthetairus? + +_Peisthetairus [coolly_]--Here am I. + +_Mess. [in a gasp of breath_]--Your fortification's finished. + +_Peis_.--Well! that's well. + +_Mess_.--A most amazing, astonishing work it is! + So that Theagenes and Proxenides + Might flourish and gasconade and prance away + Quite at their ease, both of them four-in-hand, + Driving abreast upon the breadth of wall, + Each in his own new chariot. + +_Peis_.--You surprise me. + +_Mess_.--And the height (for I made the measurement myself) + Is exactly a hundred fathoms. + +_Peis_.--Heaven and earth! + How could it be? such a mass! who could have built it? + +_Mess_.--The Birds; no creature else, no foreigners, + Egyptian bricklayers, workmen or masons. + But they themselves, alone, by their own efforts,-- + (Even to my surprise, as an eye-witness) + The Birds, I say, completed everything: + There came a body of thirty thousand cranes, + (I won't be positive, there might be more) + With stones from Africa in their craws and gizzards, + Which the stone-curlews and stone-chatterers + Worked into shape and finished. The sand-martens + And mud-larks, too, were busy in their department, + Mixing the mortar, while the water-birds, + As fast as it was wanted, brought the water + To temper and work it. + +_Peis. [in a fidget_]--But who served the masons + Who did you get to carry it? + +_Mess_.--To carry it? + Of course, the carrion crows and carrying pigeons. + +_Peis. [in a fuss, which he endeavors to conceal_]-- + Yes! yes! but after all, to load your hods, + How did you manage that? + +_Mess_.--Oh, capitally, + I promise you. There were the geese, all barefoot + Trampling the mortar, and when all was ready + They handed it into the hods, so cleverly, + With their flat feet! + +_Peis. [a bad joke, as a vent for irritation_]-- + They footed it, you mean-- + Come; it was handily done though, I confess. + +_Mess_.--Indeed, I assure you, it was a sight to see them; + And trains of ducks there were, clambering the ladders + With their duck legs, like bricklayers' 'prentices, + All dapper and handy, with their little trowels. + +_Peis_.--In fact, then, it's no use engaging foreigners; + Mere folly and waste, we've all within ourselves. + Ah, well now, come! But about the woodwork? Heh! + Who were the carpenters? Answer me that! + +_Mess_.--The woodpeckers, of course: and there they were, + Laboring upon the gates, driving and banging, + With their hard hatchet-beaks, and such a din, + Such a clatter, as they made, hammering and hacking, + In a perpetual peal, pelting away + Like shipwrights, hard at work in the arsenal. + And now their work is finished, gates and all, + Staples and bolts, and bars and everything; + The sentries at their posts; patrols appointed; + The watchman in the barbican; the beacons + Ready prepared for lighting; all their signals + Arranged--but I'll step out, just for a moment, + To wash my hands. You'll settle all the rest. + + + CHORUS OF WOMEN + + From the 'Thesmophoriazusæ': Collins's Translation + + They're always abusing the women, + As a terrible plague to men: + They say we're the root of all evil, + And repeat it again and again; + Of war, and quarrels, and bloodshed, + All mischief, be what it may! + And pray, then, why do you marry us, + If we're all the plagues you say? + And why do you take such care of us, + And keep us so safe at home, + And are never easy a moment + If ever we chance to roam? + When you ought to be thanking heaven + That your Plague is out of the way, + You all keep fussing and fretting-- + "Where is _my_ Plague to-day?" + If a Plague peeps out of the window, + Up go the eyes of men; + If she hides, then they all keep staring + Until she looks out again. + + + CHORUS OF MYSTÆ IN HADES + + From 'The Frogs': Frere's Translation + + CHORUS [_shouting and singing_'] + + Iacchus! Iacchus! Ho! + + Iacchus! Iacchus! Ho! + +_Xanthias_--There, master, there they are, the initiated + All sporting about as he told us we should find 'em. + They're singing in praise of Bacchus like Diagoras. + +_Bacchus_--Indeed, and so they are; but we'll keep quiet + Till we make them out a little more distinctly. + + CHORUS _[song]_ + + Mighty Bacchus! Holy Power! + Hither at the wonted hour + Come away, + Come away, + With the wanton holiday, + Where the revel uproar leads + To the mystic holy meads, + Where the frolic votaries fly, + With a tipsy shout and cry; + Flourishing the Thyrsus high, + Flinging forth, alert and airy, + To the sacred old vagary, + The tumultuous dance and song, + Sacred from the vulgar throng; + Mystic orgies that are known + To the votaries alone-- + To the mystic chorus solely-- + Secret unrevealed--and holy. +_Xan_.--O glorious virgin, daughter of the Goddess! + What a scent of roasted griskin reached my senses! + +_Bac_.--Keep quiet--and watch for a chance of a piece of the haslets. + +CHORUS _[song]_ + + Raise the fiery torches high! + Bacchus is approaching nigh, + Like the planet of the morn + Breaking with the hoary dawn + On the dark solemnity-- + There they flash upon the sight; + All the plain is blazing bright, + Flushed and overflown with light: + Age has cast his years away, + And the cares of many a day, + Sporting to the lively lay-- + Mighty Bacchus! march and lead + (Torch in hand toward the mead) + Thy devoted humble Chorus; + Mighty Bacchus--move before us! + Keep silence--keep peace--and let all the profane + From our holy solemnity duly refrain; + Whose souls, unenlightened by taste, are obscure; + Whose poetical notions are dark and impure; + Whose theatrical conscience + Is sullied by nonsense; + Who never were trained by the mighty Cratinus + In mystical orgies, poetic and vinous; + Who delight in buffooning and jests out of season; + Who promote the designs of oppression and treason; + Who foster sedition and strife and debate; + All traitors, in short, to the Stage and the State: + Who surrender a fort, or in private export + To places and harbors of hostile resort + Clandestine consignments of cables and pitch,-- + In the way that Thorycion grew to be rich + From a scoundrelly dirty collector of tribute: + All such we reject and severely prohibit; + All statesmen retrenching the fees and the salaries + Of theatrical bards, in revenge for the railleries + And jests and lampoons of this holy solemnity, + Profanely pursuing their personal enmity, + For having been flouted and scoffed and scorned-- + All such are admonished and heartily warned; + We warn them once, + We warn them twice, + We warn and admonish--we warn them thrice, + To conform to the law, + To retire and withdraw; + While the Chorus again with the formal saw, + (Fixt and assign'd to the festive day) + Move to the measure and march away. + + SEMI-CHORUS + + March! march! lead forth, + Lead forth manfully, + March in order all; + Bustling, hustling, justling, + As it may befall; + Flocking, shouting, laughing, + Mocking, flouting, quaffing, + One and all; + All have had a belly-full + Of breakfast brave and plentiful; + Therefore + Evermore + With your voices and your bodies + Serve the goddess, + And raise + Songs of praise; + She shall save the country still, + And save it against the traitor's will; + So she says. + + SEMI-CHORUS + + Now let us raise in a different strain + The praise of the goddess, the giver of grain; + Imploring her favor + With other behavior, + In measures more sober, submissive, and graver. + + SEMI-CHORUS + + Ceres, holy patroness, + Condescend to mark and bless, + With benevolent regard, + Both the Chorus and the Bard; + Grant them for the present day + Many things to sing and say, + Follies intermixed with sense; + Folly, but without offense. + Grant them with the present play + To bear the prize of verse away. + + SEMI-CHORUS + + Now call again, and with a different measure, + The power of mirth and pleasure; + The florid, active Bacchus, bright and gay, + To journey forth and join us on the way. + + SEMI-CHORUS + + O Bacchus, attend! the customary patron of every lively lay; + Go forth without delay + Thy wonted annual way, + To meet the ceremonious holy matron: + Her grave procession gracing, + Thine airy footsteps tracing + With unlaborious, light, celestial motion; + And here at thy devotion + Behold thy faithful choir + In pitiful attire: + All overworn and ragged, + This jerkin old and jagged, + These buskins torn and burst, + Though sufferers in the fray, + May serve us at the worst + To sport throughout the day; + And then within the shades + I spy some lovely maids + With whom we romped and reveled, + Dismantled and disheveled, + With their bosoms open,-- + With whom we might be coping. + _Xan_.--Well, I was always hearty, + Disposed to mirth and ease: + I'm ready to join the party. + _Bac_.--And I will if you please. + + + + A PARODY OF EURIPIDES'S LYRIC VERSE + + From 'The Frogs' + + Halcyons ye by the flowing sea + Waves that warble twitteringly, + Circling over the tumbling blue, + Dipping your down in its briny dew, + Spi-i-iders in corners dim + Spi-spi-spinning your fairy film, + Shuttles echoing round the room + Silver notes of the whistling loom, + Where the light-footed dolphin skips + Down the wake of the dark-prowed ships, + Over the course of the racing steed + Where the clustering tendrils breed + Grapes to drown dull care in delight, + Oh! mother make me a child again just for to-night! + I don't exactly see how that last line is to scan, + But that's a consideration I leave to our musical man. + + + THE PROLOGUES OF EURIPIDES + + From 'The Frogs' + + [The point of the following selection lies in the monotony of + both narrative style and metre in Euripides's prologues, and + especially his regular cæsura after the fifth syllable of a + line. The burlesque tag used by Aristophanes to demonstrate + this effect could not be applied in the same way to any of + the fourteen extant plays of Sophocles and Æschylus.] + +_Æschylus_--And by Jove, I'll not stop to cut up your verses + word by word, but if the gods are propitious I'll spoil + all your prologues with a little flask of smelling-salts. + +_Euripides_--With a flask of smelling-salts? + +_Æsch_.--With a single one. For you build your verses so that + anything will fit into the metre,--a leathern sack, + or eider-down, or smelling-salts. I'll show you. + +_Eur_.--So, you'll show me, will you? + +_Æsch_.--I will that. + +_Dionysus_--Pronounce. + +_Eur_. [_declaiming_]-- + Ægyptus, as broad-bruited fame reports, + With fifty children voyaging the main + To Argos came, and + +_Æsch_.--lost his smelling-salts. + +_Dion_.--What the mischief have the smelling-salts got to do with + it? Recite another prologue to him and let me see. + +_Eur_.-- + Dionysus, thyrsus-armed and faun-skin-clad, + Amid the torchlights on Parnassus's slope + Dancing and prancing + +_Æsch_.--lost his smelling-salts. + +_Dion_.--Caught out again by the smelling-salts. + +_Eur_.--No matter. Here's a prologue that he can't fit 'em to. + + No lot of mortal man is wholly blest: + The high-born youth hath lacked the means of life, + The lowly lout hath + +_Æsch_.--lost his smelling-salts. + +_Dion_.--Euripides-- + +_Eur_.--Well, what? + +_Dion_.--Best take in sail. + These smelling-salts, methinks, will blow a gale. + +_Eur_.--What do I care? I'll fix him next time. + +_Dion_.--Well, recite another, and steer clear of the smelling-salts. + +_Eur_.-- + Cadmus departing from the town of Tyre, + Son of Agenor + +_Æsch_.--lost his smelling-salts. + +_Dion_.--My dear fellow, buy those smelling-salts, or there won't + be a rag left of all your prologues. + +_Eur_.--What? I buy 'em of him? + +_Dion_.--If you'll be advised by me. + +_Eur_.--Not a bit of it. I've lots of prologues where he can't + work 'em in. + + Pelops the Tantalid to Pisa coming + With speedy coursers + +_Æsch_.--lost his smelling-salts. + +_Dion_.--There they are again, you see. Do let him have 'em, + my good Æschylus. You can replace 'em for a + nickel. + +_Eur_.--Never. I've not run out yet. + + Oeneus from broad fields + +_Æsch_.--lost his smelling-salts. + +_Eur_.--Let me say the whole verse, won't you? + + Oeneus from broad fields reaped a mighty crop + And offering first-fruits + +_Æsch_.--lost his smelling-salts. + +_Dion_.--While sacrificing? Who filched them? + +_Eur_.--Oh, never mind him. Let him try it on this verse:-- + + Zeus, as the word of sooth declared of old-- + +_Dion_.--It's no use, he'll say Zeus lost his smelling-salts. For + those smelling-salts fit your prologues like a kid + glove. But go on and turn your attention to his + lyrics. + + + + +ARISTOTLE + +(B.C. 384-322) + +BY THOMAS DAVIDSON + + +The "Stagirite," called by Eusebius "Nature's private secretary," and by +Dante "the master of those that know,"--the greatest thinker of the +ancient world, and the most influential of all time,--was born of Greek +parents at Stagira, in the mountains of Macedonia, in B.C. 384. Of his +mother, Phæstis, almost nothing is known. His father, Nicomachus, +belonged to a medical family, and acted as private physician to Amyntas, +grandfather of Alexander the Great; whence it is probable that +Aristotle's boyhood was passed at or near the Macedonian court. Losing +both his parents while a mere boy, he was taken charge of by a relative, +Proxenus Atarneus, and sent, at the age of seventeen, to Athens to +study. Here he entered the school of Plato, where he remained twenty +years, as pupil and as teacher. During this time he made the +acquaintance of the leading contemporary thinkers, read omnivorously, +amassed an amount of knowledge that seems almost fabulous, schooled +himself in systematic thought, and (being well off) collected a library, +perhaps the first considerable private library in the world. Having +toward the end felt obliged to assume an independent attitude in +thought, he was not at the death of Plato (347) appointed his successor +in the Academy, as might have been expected. Not wishing at that time to +set up a rival school, he retired to the court of a former fellow-pupil, +Hermias, then king of Assos and Atarneus, whom he greatly respected, and +whose adopted daughter, Pythias, he later married. Here he remained, +pursuing his studies, for three years; and left only when his patron was +treacherously murdered by the Persians. + +Having retired to Mitylene, he soon afterward received an invitation +from Philip of Macedonia to undertake the education of his son +Alexander, then thirteen years old. Aristotle willingly obeyed this +summons; and retiring with his royal pupil to Mieza, a town southwest of +Pella, imparted his instruction in the Nymphæum, which he had arranged +in imitation of Plato's garden school. Alexander remained with him three +years, and was then called by his father to assume important State +duties. Whether Aristotle's instruction continued after that is +uncertain; but the two men remained fast friends, and there can be no +doubt that much of the nobility, self-control, largeness of purpose, and +enthusiasm for culture, which characterized Alexander's subsequent +career, were due to the teaching of the philosopher. What Aristotle was +in the world of thought, Alexander became in the world of action. + +[Illustration: ARISTOTLE.] + +Aristotle remained in Macedonia ten years, giving instruction to young +Macedonians and continuing his own studies. He then returned to Athens, +and opened a school in the _peripatos_, or promenade, of the Lyceum, the +gymnasium of the foreign residents, a school which from its location was +called the Peripatetic. Here he developed a manifold activity. He +pursued all kinds of studies, logical, rhetorical, physical, +metaphysical, ethical, political, and aesthetic, gave public (exoteric) +and private (esoteric) instruction, and composed the bulk of the +treatises which have made his name famous. These treatises were composed +slowly, in connection with his lectures, and subjected to frequent +revision. He likewise endeavored to lead an ideal social life with his +friends and pupils, whom he gathered under a common roof to share meals +and elevated converse in common. + +Thus affairs went on for twelve fruitful years, and might have gone on +longer, but for the sudden death of Alexander, his friend and patron. +Then the hatred of the Athenians to the conqueror showed itself in +hostility to his old master, and sought for means to put him out of the +way. How hard it was to find a pretext for so doing is shown by the fact +that they had to fix upon the poem which he had written on the death of +his friend Hermias many years before, and base upon it--as having the +form of the paean, sacred to Apollo--a charge of impiety. Aristotle, +recognizing the utter flimsiness of the charge, and being unwilling, as +he said, to allow the Athenians to sin a second time against philosophy, +retired beyond their reach to his villa at Chalcis in Euboea, where he +died of stomach disease the year after (322). In the later years of his +life, the friendship between him and his illustrious pupil had, owing to +certain outward circumstances, become somewhat cooled; but there never +was any serious breach. His body was carried to Stagira, which he had +induced Philip to restore after it had been destroyed, and whose +inhabitants therefore looked upon him as the founder of the city. As +such he received the religious honors accorded to heroes: an altar was +erected to him, at which an annual festival was celebrated in the month +named after him. + +We may sum up the character of Aristotle by saying that he was one of +the sanest and most rounded men that ever lived. As a philosopher, he +stands in the front rank. "No time," says Hegel, "has a man to place by +his side." Nor was his moral character inferior to his intellect. No one +can read his 'Ethics,' or his will (the text of which is extant), +without feeling the nobleness, simplicity, purity, and modernness of +his nature. In his family relations, especially, he seems to have stood +far above his contemporaries. The depth of his aesthetic perception is +attested by his poems and his 'Poetics.' + +The unsatisfactory and fragmentary condition in which Aristotle's works +have come down to us makes it difficult to judge of his style. Many of +them seem mere collections of notes and jottings for lectures, without +any attempt at style. The rest are distinguished by brevity, terseness, +and scientific precision. No other man ever enriched philosophic +language with so many original expressions. We know, from the testimony +of most competent judges, such as Cicero, that his popular writings, +dialogues, etc., were written in an elegant style, casting even that of +Plato into the shade; and this is borne fully out by some extant +fragments. + +Greek philosophy culminates in Aristotle. Setting out with a naïve +acceptance of the world as being what it seemed, and trying to reduce +this Being to some material principle, such as water, air, etc., it was +gradually driven, by force of logic, to distinguish Being from Seeming, +and to see that while the latter was dependent on the thinking subject, +the former could not be anything material. This result was reached by +both the materialistic and spiritualistic schools, and was only carried +one step further by the Sophists, who maintained that even the being of +things depended on the thinker. This necessarily led to skepticism, +individualism, and disruption of the old social and religious order. + +Then arose Socrates, greatest of the Sophists, who, seeing that the +outer world had been shown to depend on the inner, adopted as his motto, +"Know Thyself," and devoted himself to the study of mind. By his +dialectic method he showed that skepticism and individualism, so far as +anarchic, can be overcome by carrying out thought to its implications; +when it proves to be the same for all, and to bring with it an authority +binding on all, and replacing that of the old external gods. Thus +Socrates discovered the principle of human liberty, a principle +necessarily hostile to the ancient State, which absorbed the man in the +citizen. Socrates was accordingly put to death as an atheist; and then +Plato, with good intentions but prejudiced insight, set to work to +restore the old tyranny of the State. This he did by placing truth, or +reality (which Socrates had found in complete thought, internal to the +mind), outside of both thought and nature, and making it consist of a +group of eternal schemes, or forms, of which natural things are merely +transient phantoms, and which can be reached by only a few aristocratic +souls, born to rule the rest. On the basis of this distortion he +constructed his Republic, in which complete despotism is exercised by +the philosophers through the military; man is reduced to a machine, his +affections and will being disregarded; community of women and of +property is the law; and science is scouted. + +Aristotle's philosophy may be said to be a protest against this view, +and an attempt to show that reality is embodied in nature, which depends +on a supreme intelligence, and may be realized in other intelligences, +or thought-centres, such as the human mind. In other words, according to +Aristotle, truth is actual in the world and potential in all minds, +which may by experience put on its forms. Thus the individualism of the +Sophists and the despotism of Plato are overcome, while an important +place is made for experience, or science. + +Aristotle, accepting the world of common-sense, tried to rationalize it; +that is, to realize it in himself. First among the Greeks he believed it +to be unique, uncreated, and eternal, and gave his reasons. Recognizing +that the phenomenal world exists in change, he investigated the +principle and method of this. Change he conceives as a transition from +potentiality to actuality, and as always due to something actualized, +communicating its form to something potential. Looking at the "world" as +a whole, and picturing it as limited, globular, and constructed like an +onion, with the earth in the centre, and round about it nine concentric +spheres carrying the planets and stars, he concludes that there must be +at one end something purely actual and therefore unchanging,--that is, +pure form or energy; and at the other, something purely potential and +therefore changing,--that is, pure matter or latency. The pure actuality +is at the circumference, pure matter at the centre. Matter, however, +never exists without some form. Thus, nature is an eternal circular +process between the actual and the potential. The supreme Intelligence, +God, being pure energy, changelessly thinks himself, and through the +love inspired by his perfection moves the outmost sphere; which would +move all the rest were it not for inferior intelligences, fifty-six in +number, who, by giving them different directions, diversify the divine +action and produce the variety of the world. The celestial world is +composed of eternal matter, or aether, whose only change is circular +motion; the sublunary world is composed of changing matter, in four +different but mutually transmutable forms--fire, air, water, +earth--movable in two opposite directions, in straight lines, under the +ever-varying influence of the celestial spheres. + +Thus the world is an organism, making no progress as a whole, but +continually changing in its various parts. In it all real things are +individuals, not universals, as Plato thought. And forms pass from +individual to individual only. Peleus, not humanity, is the parent of +Achilles; the learned man only can teach the ignorant. In the +world-process there are several distinct stages, to each of which +Aristotle devotes a special work, or series of works. Beginning with the +"four elements" and their changes, he works up through the mineral, +vegetable, and animal worlds, to man, and thence through the spheral +intelligences to the supreme, divine intelligence, on which the Whole +depends. Man stands on the dividing line between the temporal and the +eternal; belonging with his animal part to the former, with his +intelligence (which "enters from without") to the latter. He is an +intelligence, of the same nature as the sphere-movers, but individuated +by mutable matter in the form of a body, matter being in all cases the +principle of individuation. As intelligence, he becomes free; takes the +guidance of his life into his own hand; and, first through ethics, +politics, and aesthetics, the forms of his sensible or practical +activity, and second through logic, science, and philosophy, the forms +of his intellectual activity, he rises to divine heights and "plays the +immortal." His supreme activity is contemplation. This, the eternal +energy of God, is possible for man only at rare intervals. + +Aristotle, by placing his eternal forms in sensible things as their +meaning, made science possible and necessary. Not only is he the father +of scientific method, inductive and deductive, but his actual +contributions to science place him in the front rank of scientists. His +Zoölogy, Psychology, Logic, Metaphysics, Ethics, Politics, and +Aesthetics, are still highly esteemed and extensively studied. At the +same time, by failing to overcome the dualism and supernaturalism of +Plato, by adopting the popular notions about spheres and sphere-movers, +by separating intelligence from sense, by conceiving matter as +independent and the principle of individuation, and by making science +relate only to the universal, he paved the way for astrology, alchemy, +magic, and all the forms of superstition, retarding the advance of +several sciences, as for example astronomy and chemistry, for many +hundred years. + +After Aristotle's death, his school was continued by a succession of +studious and learned men, but did not for many centuries deeply affect +contemporary life. At last, in the fifth century A.D., his thought found +its way into the Christian schools, giving birth to rationalism and +historical criticism. At various times its adherents were condemned as +heretics and banished, mostly to Syria. Here, at Edessa and Nisibis, +they established schools of learning which for several centuries were +the most famous in the world. The entire works of Aristotle were turned +into Syriac; among them several spurious ones of Neo-Platonic origin, +notably the famous 'Liber de Causis' and the 'Theology of Aristotle.' +Thus a Neo-Platonic Aristotle came to rule Eastern learning. On the rise +of Islâm, this Aristotle was borrowed by the Muslims, and became ruler +of their schools at Bagdad, Basra, and other places,--schools which +produced many remarkable men. On the decay of these, he passed in the +twelfth century into the schools of Spain, and here ruled supreme until +Arab philosophy was suppressed, shortly before 1200. From the Arabs he +passed into the Christian Church about this date; and though at first +resisted, was finally accepted, and became "the philosopher" of the +schools, and the inspirer of Dante. The Reformers, though decrying him, +were forced to have recourse to him; but his credit was not +re-established until the present century, when, thanks to Hegel, +Trendelenburg, Brandis, and the Berlin Academy, his true value was +recognized and his permanent influence insured. + +The extant works of Aristotle, covering the whole field of science, may +be classified as follows:-- + +A. _Logical or Formal_, dealing with the form rather than the matter of +science:--'Categories,' treating of Being and its determination, which, +being regarded ontologically, bring the work into the metaphysical +sphere; 'On Interpretation,' dealing with the proposition; 'Former +Analytics,' theory of the syllogism; 'Later Analytics,' theory of proof; +'Topics,' probable proofs; 'Sophistical proofs,' fallacies. These works +were later united by the Stoics under the title 'Organon,' or Instrument +(of science). + +B. _Scientific or Philosophical_, dealing with the matter of science. +These may be subdivided into three classes: (_a_) Theoretical, (_b_) +Practical, (_c_) Creative. + +(_a_) The _Theoretical_ has further subdivisions: (_a_) Metaphysical, +(_b_) Physical, (_c_) Mathematical.--(_a_) The Metaphysical works +include the incomplete collection under the name 'Metaphysics,'--(_b_) +The Physical works include 'Physics,' 'On the Heavens,' 'On Generation +and Decay,' 'On the Soul,' with eight supplementary tracts on actions of +the soul as combined with the body; viz., 'On Sense and Sensibles,' 'On +Memory and Reminiscence,' 'On Sleep and Waking,' 'On Dreams,' 'On +Divination from Dreams,' 'On Length and Shortness of Life,' 'On Life and +Death,' 'On Respiration,' 'Meteorologics,' 'Histories of Animals' +(Zoögraphy). 'On the Parts of Animals,' 'On the Generation of Animals,' +'On the Motion of Animals,' 'Problems' (largely spurious). 'On the +Cosmos,' 'Physiognomies,' 'On Wonderful Auditions,' 'On Colors.'--The +Mathematical works include 'On Indivisible Lines,' 'Mechanics.' + +(_b_) The _Practical_ works are 'Nicomachean Ethics,' 'Endemean Ethics,' +'Great Ethics' ('Magna Moralia'), really different forms of the same +work; 'Politics,' 'Constitutions' (originally one hundred and +fifty-eight in number; now represented only by the recently discovered +'Constitution of Athens'), 'On Virtues and Vices,' 'Rhetoric to +Alexander,' 'Oeconomics.' + +(_c_) Of _Creative_ works we have only the fragmentary 'Poetics.' To +these may be added a few poems, one of which is given here. + +Besides the extant works of Aristotle, we have titles, fragments, and +some knowledge of the contents of a large number more. Among these are +the whole of the "exoteric" works, including nineteen Dialogues. A list +of his works, as arranged in the Alexandrian Library (apparently), is +given by Diogenes Laërtius in his 'Life of Aristotle' (printed in the +Berlin and Paris editions of 'Aristotle'); a list in which it is not +easy to identify the whole of the extant works. The 'Fragments' appear +in both the editions just named. Some of the works named above are +almost certainly spurious; _e.g._, the 'Rhetoric to Alexander,' the +'Oeconomics,' etc. + +The chief editions of Aristotle's works, exclusive of the 'Constitution +of Athens,' are that of the Berlin Academy (Im. Bekker), containing +text, scholia, Latin translation, and Index in Greek (5 vols., square +4to); and the Paris or Didot (Dübner, Bussemaker, Heitz), containing +text, Latin translation, and very complete Index in Latin (5 vols., +4to). Of the chief works the best editions are:--'Organon,' Waitz; +'Metaphysics,' Schwegler, Bonitz; 'Physics,' Prantl; 'Meteorologies,' +Ideler; 'On the Generation of Animals,' Aubert and Wimmer; 'Psychology,' +Trendelenburg, Torstrik, Wallace (with English translation); +'Nicomachean Ethics,' Grant, Ramsauer, Susemihl; 'Politics,' Stahr, +Susemihl; 'Constitution of Athens,' Kenyon, Sandys; 'Poetics,' Susemihl, +Vahlen, Butcher (with English translation). There are few good English +translations of Aristotle's works; but among these may be mentioned +Peter's 'Nicomachean Ethics,' Jowett's and Welldon's 'Politics,' and +Poste's 'Constitution of Athens.' There is a fair French translation of +the principal works by Barthélemy St.-Hilaire. The Berlin Academy is now +(1896) publishing the ancient Greek commentaries on Aristotle in +thirty-five quarto volumes. The best work on Aristotle is that by E. +Zeller, in Vol. iii. of his 'Philosophie der Griechen.' The English +works by Lewes and Grote are inferior. For Bibliography, the student may +consult Ueberweg, 'Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophic,' Vol. i., +pages 196 _seq_. + +[Illustration: Signature: THOMAS DAVIDSON] + + + + +THE NATURE OF THE SOUL + +From 'On the Soul,' Book iii., Chapter 6 + +Concerning that part of the soul, however, by which the soul knows (and +is prudentially wise) whether it is separable or not separable, +according to magnitude, but according to reason, it must be considered +what difference it possesses, and how intellectual perception is +produced. If, therefore, to perceive intellectually is the same thing as +to perceive sensibly, it will either be to suffer something from the +intelligible, or something else of this kind. It is necessary, however, +that it should be impassive, but capable of receiving form; and in +capacity a thing of this kind, but not this; and also, that as the +sensitive power is to sensibles, so should intellect be to +intelligibles. It is necessary, therefore, since it understands all +things, that it should be unmingled, as Anaxagoras says, that it may +predominate: but this is that it may know; for that which is foreign at +the same time presenting itself to the view, impedes and obstructs. + +Hence, neither is there any other nature of it than this, that it is +possible. That, therefore, which is called the intellect of soul (I mean +the intellect by which the soul energizes dianoetically and +hypoleptically), is nothing in energy of beings before it intellectually +perceives them. Hence, neither is it reasonable that it should be +mingled with body; for thus it would become a thing with certain +quality, would be hot or cold, and would have a certain organ in the +same manner as the sensitive power. Now, however, there is no organ of +it. In a proper manner, therefore, do they speak, who say that the soul +is the place of forms; except that this is not true of the whole soul, +but of that which is intellective; nor is it forms in entelecheia, but +in capacity. But that the impassivity of the sensitive and intellective +power is not similar, is evident in the sensoria and in sense. For sense +cannot perceive from a vehement sensible object (as for instance, sounds +from very loud sounds; nor from strong odors and colors can it either +see or smell): but intellect, when it understands anything very +intelligible, does not less understand inferior concerns, but even +understands them in a greater degree; for the sensitive power is not +without body, but intellect is separate from body. + +When however it becomes particulars, in such a manner as he is said to +possess scientific knowledge who scientifically knows in energy (and +this happens when it is able to energize through itself), then also it +is similarly in a certain respect in capacity, yet not after the same +manner as before it learnt or discovered; and it is then itself able to +understand itself. By the sensitive power, therefore, it distinguishes +the hot and the cold, and those things of which flesh is a certain +reason; but by another power, either separate, or as an inflected line +subsists with reference to itself when it is extended, it distinguishes +the essence of flesh. Further still, in those things which consist in +ablation, the straight is as the flat nose; for it subsists with the +continued. + +Some one, however, may question, if intellect is simple and impassive +and has nothing in common with anything, as Anaxagoras says, how it can +perceive intellectually, if to perceive intellectually is to suffer +something; for so far as something is common to both, the one appears to +act, but the other to suffer. Again, it may also be doubted whether +intellect is itself intelligible. For either intellect will also be +present with other things, if it is not intelligible according to +another thing, but the intelligible is one certain thing in species; or +it will have something mingled, which will make it to be intelligible in +the same manner as other things. Or shall we say that to suffer subsists +according to something common? On which account, it was before observed +that intellect is in capacity, in a certain respect, intelligibles, but +is no one of them in entelecheia, before it understands or perceives +intellectually. But it is necessary to conceive of it as of a table in +which nothing is written in entelecheia; which happens to be the case in +intellect. But in those things which have matter, each of the +intelligibles is in capacity only. Hence, intellect will not be present +with them; for the intellect of such things is capacity without matter. +But with intellect the intelligible will be present. + + * * * * * + +Since, however, in every nature there is something which is matter to +each genus (and this because it is all those in capacity), and something +which is the cause and affective, because it produces all things (in +such a manner as art is affected with respect to matter), it is +necessary that these differences should also be inherent in the soul. +And the one is an intellect of this kind because it becomes all things; +but the other because it produces all things as a certain habit, such +for instance as light. For in a certain respect, light also causes +colors which are in capacity to be colors in energy. And this intellect +is separate, unmingled, and impassive, since it is in its essence +energy; for the efficient is always more honorable than the patient, and +the principle than matter. Science, also, in energy is the same as the +thing [which is scientifically known]. But science which is in capacity +is prior in time in the one [to science in energy]; though, in short, +neither [is capacity prior to energy] in time. It does not, however, +perceive intellectually at one time and at another time not, but +separate intellect is alone this very thing which it is; and this alone +is immortal and eternal. We do not, however, remember because this is +impassive; but the passive intellect is corruptible, and without this +the separate intellect understands nothing. + + + +ON THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HISTORY AND POETRY, AND +HOW HISTORICAL MATTER SHOULD BE USED IN POETRY + +From the 'Poetics,' Chapter 9 + +But it is evident from what has been said that it is not the province of +a poet to relate things which have happened, but such as might have +happened, and such things as are possible according to probability, or +which would necessarily have happened. For a historian and a poet do not +differ from each other because the one writes in verse and the other in +prose; for the history of Herodotus might be written in verse, and yet +it would be no less a history with metre than without metre. But they +differ in this, that the one speaks of things which have happened, and +the other of such as might have happened. Hence, poetry is more +philosophic, and more deserving of attention, than history. For poetry +speaks more of universals, but history of particulars. But universal +consists, indeed, in relating or performing certain things which happen +to a man of a certain description, either probably or necessarily [to +which the aim of poetry is directed in giving names]; but particular +consists in narrating what [for example] Alcibiades did, or what he +suffered. In comedy, therefore, this is now become evident. For comic +poets having composed a fable through things of a probable nature, they +thus give whatever names they please to their characters, and do not, +like iambic poets, write poems about particular persons. But in tragedy +they cling to real names. The cause, however, of this is, that the +possible is credible. Things therefore which have not yet been done, we +do not yet believe to be possible: but it is evident that things which +have been done are possible, for they would not have been done if they +were impossible. + +Not indeed but that in some tragedies there are one or two known names, +and the rest are feigned; but in others there is no known name, as for +instance in 'The Flower of Agatho.' For in this tragedy the things and +the names are alike feigned, and yet it delights no less. Hence, one +must not seek to adhere entirely to traditional fables, which are the +subjects of tragedy. For it is ridiculous to make this the object of +search, because even known subjects are known but to a few, though at +the same time they delight all men. From these things, therefore, it is +evident that a poet ought rather to be the author of fables than of +metres, inasmuch as he is a poet from imitation, and he imitates +actions. Hence, though it should happen that he relates things which +have happened, he is no less a poet. For nothing hinders but that some +actions which have happened are such as might both probably and possibly +have happened, and by [the narration of] such he is a poet. + +But of simple plots and actions, the episodic are the worst. But I call +the plot episodic, in which it is neither probable nor necessary that +the episodes follow each other. Such plots, however, are composed by bad +poets, indeed, through their own want of ability; but by good poets, on +account of the players. For, introducing [dramatic] contests, and +extending the plot beyond its capabilities, they are frequently +compelled to distort the connection of the parts. But tragedy is not +only an imitation of a perfect action, but also of actions which are +terrible and piteous, and actions principally become such (and in a +greater degree when they happen contrary to opinion) on account of each +other. For thus they will possess more of the marvelous than if they +happened from chance and fortune; since also of things which are from +fortune, those appear to be most admirable which seem to happen as it +were by design. Thus the statue of Mityus at Argos killed him who was +the cause of the death of Mityus by falling as he was surveying it. For +such events as these seem not to take place casually. Hence it is +necessary that fables of this kind should be more beautiful. + + +ON PHILOSOPHY + +Quoted in Cicero's 'Nature of the Gods' + +If there were men whose habitations had been always under ground, in +great and commodious houses, adorned with statues and pictures, +furnished with everything which they who are reputed happy abound with: +and if, without stirring from thence, they should be informed of a +certain divine power and majesty, and after some time the earth should +open and they should quit their dark abode to come to us, where they +should immediately behold the earth, the seas, the heavens; should +consider the vast extent of the clouds and force of the winds; should +see the sun and observe his grandeur and beauty, and perceive that day +is occasioned by the diffusion of his light through the sky; and when +night has obscured the earth they should contemplate the heavens, +bespangled and adorned with stars, the surprising variety of the moon in +her increase and wane, the rising and setting of all the stars and the +inviolable regularity of their courses,--when, says he, "they should see +these things, they would undoubtedly conclude that there are gods, and +that these are their mighty works." + + +ON ESSENCES + +From 'The Metaphysics,' Book xi., Chapter I + +The subject of theory (or speculative science) is _essence_. In it are +investigated the principles and causes of essences. The truth is, if the +All be regarded as a whole, essence is its first (or highest) part. +Also, if we consider the natural order of the categories, essence stands +at the head of the list; then comes quality; then quantity. It is true +that the other categories, such as qualities and movements, are not in +any absolute sense at all, and the same is true of [negatives, such as] +not-white or not-straight. Nevertheless, we use such expressions as +"Not-white is." + +Moreover, no one of the other categories is separable [or independent]. +This is attested by the procedure of the older philosophers; for it was +the principles, elements, and causes of essence that were the objects of +their investigations. The thinkers of the present day, to be sure, are +rather inclined to consider universals as essence. For genera are +universals, and these they hold to be principles and essences, mainly +because their mode of investigation is a logical one. The older +philosophers, on the other hand, considered particular things to be +essences; _e.g.,_ fire and earth, not body in general. + +There are three essences. Two of these are sensible, one being eternal +and the other transient. The latter is obvious to all, in the form of +plants and animals; with regard to the former, there is room for +discussion, as to whether its elements are one or many. The third, +differing from the other two, is immutable and is maintained by certain +persons to be separable. Some make two divisions of it, whereas others +class together, as of one nature, ideas and mathematical entities; and +others again admit only the latter. The first two essences belong to +physical science, for they are subject to change; the last belongs to +another science, if there is no principle common to all. + + +ON COMMUNITY OF STUDIES + +From 'The Politics,' Book 8 + +No one, therefore, can doubt that the legislator ought principally to +attend to the education of youth. For in cities where this is neglected, +the politics are injured. For every State ought to be governed according +to its nature; since the appropriate manners of each polity usually +preserve the polity, and establish it from the beginning. Thus, +appropriate democratic manners preserve and establish a democracy, and +oligarchic an oligarchy. Always, however, the best manners are the cause +of the best polity. Further still, in all professions and arts, there +are some things which ought previously to be learnt, and to which it is +requisite to be previously accustomed, in order to the performance of +their several works,; so that it is evident that it is also necessary in +the practice of virtue. + +Since, however, there is one purpose to every city, it is evident that +the education must necessarily be one and the same in all cities; and +that the attention paid to this should be common. At the same time, +also, no one ought to think that any person takes care of the education +of his children separately, and privately teaches them that particular +discipline which appears to him to be proper. But it is necessary that +the studies of the public should be common. At the same time, also, no +one ought to think that any citizen belongs to him in particular, but +that all the citizens belong to the city; for each individual is a part +of the city. The care and attention, however, which are paid to each of +the parts, naturally look to the care and attention of the whole. And +for this, some one may praise the Lacedaemonians; for they pay very +great attention to their children, and this in common. It is evident, +therefore, that laws should be established concerning education, and +that it should be made common. + + + + HYMN TO VIRTUE + + Virtue, to men thou bringest care and toil; + Yet art thou life's best, fairest spoil! + O virgin goddess, for thy beauty's sake + To die is delicate in this our Greece, + Or to endure of pain the stern strong ache. + Such fruit for our soul's ease + Of joys undying, dearer far than gold + Or home or soft-eyed sleep, dost thou unfold! + It was for thee the seed of Zeus, + Stout Herakles, and Leda's twins, did choose + Strength-draining deeds, to spread abroad thy name: + Smit with the love of thee + Aias and Achilleus went smilingly + Down to Death's portal, crowned with deathless fame. + Now, since thou art so fair, + Leaving the lightsome air. + Atarneus' hero hath died gloriously. + Wherefore immortal praise shall be his guerdon: + His goodness and his deeds are made the burden + Of songs divine + Sung by Memory's daughters nine, + Hymning of hospitable Zeus the might + And friendship firm as fate in fate's despite. + + Translation of J. A. Symonds. + + + + +JÓN ARNASON + +(1819-1888) + + +Jón Arnason was born in 1819, at Hof. Akàgaströnd, in Iceland, where his +father, Arm Illugason, was clergyman. After completing the course at the +Bessastad Latin School, at that time the most famous school in Iceland, +he took his first position as librarian of the so-called Stiptbókasafn +Islands (since 1881 called the National Library), which office he held +till 1887, when he asked to be relieved from his official duties. During +this period he had been also the first librarian of the Reykjavik branch +of the Icelandic Literary Society; a teacher and the custodian of the +library at the Latin School, which in the mean time had been moved from +Bessastad to Reykjavik; secretary of the bishop, Helgi Thordersen, and +custodian of the growing collection of Icelandic antiquities which has +formed the nucleus of a national museum. He had found time, besides, +during these years, for considerable literary work; and apart from +several valuable bibliographies had, alone and in collaboration, made +important contributions to his native literature. He died at +Reykjavik in 1888. + +His principal literary work, and that by which alone he is known outside +of Iceland, is the collection of folk-tales that appeared in Iceland in +1862-64, in two volumes, with the title 'Islenzkar Thoosögur og +Æfintyri' (Icelandic Popular Legends and Tales). A small preliminary +collection, called 'Islenzk Æfintyri' (Icelandic Tales), made in +collaboration with Magnus Grimsson, had been published in 1852. +Subsequently, Jón Arnason went to work single-handed to make an +exhaustive collection of the folk-tales of the country, which by +traveling and correspondence he drew from every nook and corner of +Iceland. No effort was spared to make the collection complete, and many +years were spent in this undertaking. The results were in every way +valuable. No more important collection of folk-tales exists in the +literature of any nation, and the work has become both a classic at home +and a most suggestive link in the comparative study of folk-lore +elsewhere. Arnason thus performed for his native land what the Grimms +did for Germany, and what Asbjörnsen and Moe did for Norway. He has +frequently been called the "Grimm of Iceland." The stories of the +collection have since found their way all over the world, many of them +having been translated into English, German, French, and Danish. + +In his transcription of the tales, Arnason has followed, even more +conscientiously, the plan of the Grimms in adhering to the local or +individual form in which the story had come to him in writing or by +oral transmission. We get in this way a perfect picture of the national +spirit, and a better knowledge of life and environment in Iceland than +from any other source. In these stories there is much to say of elves +and trolls, of ghosts and "fetches," of outlaws and the devil. Magic +plays an important part, and there is the usual lore of beasts and +plants. Many of them are but variants of folk-tales that belong to the +race. Others, however, are as plainly local evolutions, which in their +whole conception are as weird and mysterious as the environment that has +produced them. + + + +All the stories are from 'Icelandic Legends': Translation of Powell +and Magnusson. + + +THE MERMAN + +Long ago a farmer lived at Vogar, who was a mighty fisherman; and of all +the farms about, not one was so well situated with regard to the +fisheries as his. + +One day, according to custom, he had gone out fishing; and having cast +down his line from the boat and waited awhile, found it very hard to +pull up again, as if there were something very heavy at the end of it. +Imagine his astonishment when he found that what he had caught was a +great fish, with a man's head and body! When he saw that this creature +was alive, he addressed it and said, "Who and whence are you?" + +"A merman from the bottom of the sea," was the reply. + +The farmer then asked him what he had been doing when the hook caught +his flesh. + +The other replied, "I was turning the cowl of my mother's chimney-pot, +to suit it to the wind. So let me go again, will you?" + +"Not for the present," said the fisherman. "You shall serve me awhile +first." So without more words he dragged him into the boat and rowed to +shore with him. + +When they got to the boat-house, the fisherman's dog came to him and +greeted him joyfully, barking and fawning on him, and wagging his tail. +But his master's temper being none of the best, he struck the poor +animal; whereupon the merman laughed for the first time. + +Having fastened the boat, he went toward his house, dragging his prize +with him over the fields, and stumbling over a hillock which lay in his +way, cursed it heartily; whereupon the merman laughed for the +second time. + +When the fisherman arrived at the farm, his wife came out to receive +him, and embraced him affectionately, and he received her salutations +with pleasure; whereupon the merman laughed for the third time. + +Then said the farmer to the merman, "You have laughed three times, and I +am curious to know why you have laughed. Tell me, therefore." + +"Never will I tell you," replied the merman, "unless you promise to take +me to the same place in the sea wherefrom you caught me, and there to +let me go free again." So the farmer made him the promise. + +"Well," said the merman, "I laughed the first time because you struck +your dog, whose joy at meeting you was real and sincere. The second +time, because you cursed the mound over which you stumbled, which is +full of golden ducats. And the third time, because you received with +pleasure your wife's empty and flattering embrace, who is faithless to +you, and a hypocrite. And now be an honest man, and take me out to the +sea whence you brought me." + +The farmer replied, "Two things that you have told me I have no means of +proving; namely, the faithfulness of my dog and the faithlessness of my +wife. But the third I will try the truth of; and if the hillock contain +gold, then I will believe the rest." + +Accordingly he went to the hillock, and having dug it up, found therein +a great treasure of golden ducats, as the merman had told him. After +this the farmer took the merman down to the boat, and to that place in +the sea whence he had brought him. Before he put him in, the latter +said to him: + +"Farmer, you have been an honest man, and I will reward you for +restoring me to my mother, if only you have skill enough to take +possession of property that I shall throw in your way. Be happy +and prosper." + +Then the farmer put the merman into the sea, and he sank out of sight. + +It happened that not long after seven sea-gray cows were seen on the +beach, close to the farmer's land. These cows appeared to be very +unruly, and ran away directly the farmer approached them. So he took a +stick and ran after them, possessed with the fancy that if he could +burst the bladder which he saw on the nose of each of them, they would +belong to him. He contrived to hit the bladder on the nose of one cow, +which then became so tame that he could easily catch it, while the +others leaped into the sea and disappeared. + +The farmer was convinced that this was the gift of the merman. And a +very useful gift it was, for better cow was never seen nor milked in all +the land, and she was the mother of the race of gray cows so much +esteemed now. + +And the farmer prospered exceedingly, but never caught any more mermen. +As for his wife, nothing further is told about her, so we can +repeat nothing. + + +THE FISHERMAN OF GÖTUR + +It is told that long ago a peasant living at Götur in Myrdalur went out +fishing round the island of Dyrhólar. In returning from the sea, he had +to cross a morass. It happened once that on his way home after +nightfall, he came to a place where a man had lost his horse in the bog, +and was unable to recover it without help. The fisherman, to whom this +man was a stranger, aided him in freeing his horse from the peat. + +When the animal stood again safe and sound upon the dry earth, the +stranger said to the fisherman, "I am your neighbor, for I live in +Hvammsgil, and am returning from the sea, like you. But I am so poor +that I cannot pay you for this service as you ought to be paid. I will +promise you, however, this much: that you shall never go to sea without +catching fish, nor ever, if you will take my advice, return with empty +hands. But you must never put to sea without having first seen me pass +your house, as if going toward the shore. Obey me in this matter, and I +promise you that you shall never launch your boat in vain." + +The fisherman thanked him for this advice; and sure enough it was that +for three years afterward, never putting to sea till he had first seen +his neighbor pass his door, he always launched his boat safely, and +always came home full-handed. + +But at the end of the three years it fell out that one day in the early +morning, the fisherman, looking out from his house, saw the wind and +weather favorable, and all other fishers hurrying down to the sea to +make the best of so good a time. But though he waited hour after hour +in the hope of seeing his neighbor pass, the man of Hvammsgil never +came. At last, losing his patience, he started out without having seen +him go by. When he came down to the shore, he found that all the boats +were launched and far away. + +Before night the wind rose and became a storm, and every boat that had +that day put to sea was wrecked, and every fisher drowned; the peasant +of Götur alone escaping, for he had been unable to go out fishing. The +next night he had a strange dream, in which his neighbor from Hvammsgil +came to him and said, "Although you did not yesterday follow my advice, +I yet so far felt kindly toward you that I hindered you from going out +to sea, and saved you thus from drowning; but look no more forth to see +me pass, for we have met for the last time." And never again did the +peasant see his neighbor pass his door. + + +THE MAGIC SCYTHE + +A certain day-laborer once started from his home in the south to earn +wages for hay-cutting in the north country. In the mountains he was +suddenly overtaken by a thick mist and sleet-storm, and lost his way. +Fearing to go on further, he pitched his tent in a convenient spot, and +taking out his provisions, began to eat. + +While he was engaged upon his meal, a brown dog came into the tent, so +ill-favored, dirty, wet, and fierce-eyed, that the poor man felt quite +afraid of it, and gave it as much bread and meat as it could devour. +This the dog swallowed greedily, and ran off again into the mist. At +first the man wondered much to see a dog in such a wild place, where he +never expected to meet with a living creature; but after a while he +thought no more about the matter, and having finished his supper, fell +asleep, with his saddle for a pillow. + +At midnight he dreamed that he saw a tall and aged woman enter his tent, +who spoke thus to him:--"I am beholden to you, good man, for your +kindness to my daughter, but am unable to reward you as you deserve. +Here is a scythe which I place beneath your pillow; it is the only gift +I can make you, but despise it not. It will surely prove useful to you, +as it can cut down all that lies before it. Only beware of putting it +into the fire to temper it. Sharpen it, however, as you will, but in +that way never." So saying, she was seen no more. + +When the man awoke and looked forth, he found the mist all gone and the +sun high in heaven; so getting all his things together and striking his +tent, he laid them upon the pack-horses, saddling last of all his own +horse. But on lifting his saddle from the ground, he found beneath it a +small scythe blade, which seemed well worn and was rusty. On seeing +this, he at once recalled to mind his dream, and taking the scythe with +him, set out once more on his way. He soon found again the road which he +had lost, and made all speed to reach the well-peopled district to which +he was bound. + +When he arrived at the north country, he went from house to house, but +did not find any employment, for every farmer had laborers enough, and +one week of hay-harvest was already past. He heard it said, however, +that one old woman in the district, generally thought by her neighbors +to be skilled in magic and very rich, always began her hay-cutting a +week later than anybody else, and though she seldom employed a laborer, +always contrived to finish it by the end of the season. When by any +chance--and it was a rare one--she did engage a workman, she was never +known to pay him for his work. + +Now the peasant from the south was advised to ask this old woman for +employment, having been warned of her strange habits. + +He accordingly went to her house, and offered himself to her as a day +laborer. She accepted his offer, and told him that he might, if he +chose, work a week for her, but must expect no payment. + +"Except," she said, "you can cut more grass in the whole week than I can +rake in on the last day of it." + +To these terms he gladly agreed, and began mowing. And a very good +scythe he found that to be which the woman had given him in his dream; +for it cut well, and never wanted sharpening, though he worked with it +for five days unceasingly. He was well content, too, with his place, for +the old woman was kind enough to him. + +One day, entering the forge next to her house, he saw a vast number of +scythe-handles and rakes, and a big heap of blades, and wondered beyond +measure what the old lady could want with all these. It was the fifth +day--the Friday--and when he was asleep that night, the same elf-woman +whom he had seen upon the mountains came again to him and said:-- + +"Large as are the meadows you have mown, your employer will easily be +able to rake in all that hay to-morrow, and if she does so, will, as you +know, drive you away without paying you. When therefore you see yourself +worsted, go into the forge, take as many scythe-handles as you think +proper, fit their blades to them, and carry them out into that part of +the land where the hay is yet uncut. There you must lay them on the +ground, and you shall see how things go." + +This said, she disappeared, and in the morning the laborer, getting up, +set to work as usual at his mowing. + +At six o'clock the old witch came out, bringing five rakes with her, and +said to the man, "A goodly piece of ground you have mowed, indeed!" + +And so saying, she spread the rakes upon the hay. Then the man saw, to +his astonishment, that though the one she held in her hand raked in +great quantities of hay, the other four raked in no less each, all of +their own accord, and with no hand to wield them. + +At noon, seeing that the old woman would soon get the best of him, he +went into the forge and took out several scythe-handles, to which he +fixed their blades, and bringing them out into the field, laid them down +upon the grass which was yet standing. Then all the scythes set to work +of their own accord, and cut down the grass so quickly that the rakes +could not keep pace with them. And so they went on all the rest of the +day, and the old woman was unable to rake in all the hay which lay in +the fields. After dark she told him to gather up his scythes and take +them into the house again, while she collected her rakes, saying +to him:-- + +"You are wiser than I took you to be, and you know more than myself; so +much the better for you, for you may stay as long with me as you like." + +He spent the whole summer in her employment, and they agreed very well +together, mowing with mighty little trouble a vast amount of hay. In the +autumn she sent him away, well laden with money, to his own home in the +south. The next summer, and more than one summer following, he spent in +her employ, always being paid as his heart could desire, at the end of +the season. + +After some years he took a farm of his own in the south country, and +was always looked upon by all his neighbors as an honest man, a good +fisherman, and an able workman in whatever he might put his hand to. He +always cut his own hay, never using any scythe but that which the +elf-woman had given him upon the mountains; nor did any of his neighbors +ever finish their mowing before him. + +One summer it chanced that while he was fishing, one of his neighbors +came to his house and asked his wife to lend him her husband's scythe, +as he had lost his own. The farmer's wife looked for one, but could only +find the one upon which her husband set such store. This, however, a +little loth, she lent to the man, begging him at the same time never to +temper it in the fire; for that, she said, her good man never did. So +the neighbor promised, and taking it with him, bound it to a handle and +began to work with it. But, sweep as he would, and strain as he would +(and sweep and strain he did right lustily), not a single blade of grass +fell. Wroth at this, the man tried to sharpen it, but with no avail. +Then he took it into his forge, intending to temper it, for, thought he, +what harm could that possibly do? but as soon as the flames touched it, +the steel melted like wax, and nothing was left but a little heap of +ashes. Seeing this, he went in haste to the farmer's house, where he had +borrowed it, and told the woman what had happened; she was at her wits' +end with fright and shame when she heard it, for she knew well enough +how her husband set store by this scythe, and how angry he would be +at its loss. + +And angry indeed he was, when he came home, and he beat his wife well +for her folly in lending what was not hers to lend. But his wrath was +soon over, and he never again, as he never had before, laid the stick +about his wife's shoulders. + + +THE MAN-SERVANT AND THE WATER-ELVES + +In a large house, where all the chief rooms were paneled, there lived +once upon a time a farmer, whose ill-fate it was that every servant of +his that was left alone to guard the house on Christmas Eve, while the +rest of the family went to church, was found dead when the family +returned home. As soon as the report of this was spread abroad, the +farmer had the greatest difficulty in procuring servants who would +consent to watch alone in the house on that night; until at last, one +day a man, a strong fellow, offered him his services, to sit up alone +and guard the house. The farmer told him what fate awaited him for his +rashness; but the man despised such a fear, and persisted in his +determination. + +On Christmas Eve, when the farmer and all his family, except the new +man-servant, were preparing for church, the farmer said to him, "Come +with us to church; I cannot leave you here to die." + +But the other replied, "I intend to stay here, for it would be unwise in +you to leave your house unprotected; and besides, the cattle and sheep +must have their food at the proper time." + +"Never mind the beasts," answered the farmer. "Do not be so rash as to +remain in the house this night; for whenever we have returned from +church on this night, we have always found every living thing in the +house dead, with all its bones broken." + +But the man was not to be persuaded, as he considered all these fears +beneath his notice; so the farmer and the rest of the servants went away +and left him behind, alone in the house. + +As soon as he was by himself he began to consider how to guard against +anything that might occur; for a dread had stolen over him, in spite of +his courage, that something strange was about to take place. At last he +thought that the best thing to do was, first of all to light up the +family room; and then to find some place in which to hide himself. As +soon as he had lighted all the candles, he moved two planks out of the +wainscot at the end of the room, and creeping into the space between it +and the wall, restored the planks to their places, so that he could see +plainly into the room and yet avoid being himself discovered. + +He had scarcely finished concealing himself, when two fierce and +strange-looking men entered the room and began looking about. + +One of them said, "I smell a human being." + +"No," replied the other, "there is no human being here." + +Then they took a candle and continued their search, until they found the +man's dog asleep under one of the beds. They took it up, and having +dashed it on the ground till every bone in its body was broken, hurled +it from them. When the man-servant saw this, he congratulated himself on +not having fallen into their hands. + +Suddenly the room was filled with people, who were laden with tables +and all kinds of table furniture, silver, cloths, and all, which they +spread out, and having done so, sat down to a rich supper, which they +had also brought with them. They feasted noisily, and spent the +remainder of the night in drinking and dancing. Two of them were +appointed to keep guard, in order to give the company due warning of the +approach either of anybody or of the day. Three times they went out, +always returning with the news that they saw neither the approach of any +human being, nor yet of the break of day. + +But when the man-servant suspected the night to be pretty far spent, he +jumped from his place of concealment into the room, and clashing the two +planks together with as much noise as he could make, shouted like a +madman, "The day! the day! the day!" + +On these words the whole company rose scared from their seats, and +rushed headlong out, leaving behind them not only their tables, and all +the silver dishes, but even the very clothes they had taken off for ease +in dancing. In the hurry of flight many were wounded and trodden under +foot, while the rest ran into the darkness, the man-servant after them, +clapping the planks together and shrieking, "The day! the day! the day!" +until they came to a large lake, into which the whole party plunged +headlong and disappeared. + +From this the man knew them to be water-elves. + +Then he returned home, gathered the corpses of the elves who had been +killed in the flight, killed the wounded ones, and, making a great heap +of them all, burned them. When he had finished this task, he cleaned up +the house and took possession of all the treasures the elves had left +behind them. + +On the farmer's return, his servant told him all that had occurred, and +showed him the spoils. The farmer praised him for a brave fellow, and +congratulated him on having escaped with his life. The man gave him half +the treasures of the elves, and ever afterward prospered exceedingly. + +This was the last visit the water-elves ever paid to _that_ house. + + +THE CROSSWAYS + +It is supposed that among the hills there are certain cross-roads, from +the centre of which you can see four churches, one at the end of +each road. + +If you sit at the crossing of these roads on Christmas Eve (or as others +say, on New Year's Eve), elves come from every direction and cluster +round you, and ask you, with all sorts of blandishments and fair +promises, to go with them; but you must continue silent. Then they bring +to you rarities and delicacies of every description, gold, silver, and +precious stones, meats and wines, of which they beg you to accept; but +you must neither move a limb nor accept a single thing they offer you. +If you get so far as this without speaking, elf-women come to you in the +likeness of your mother, your sister, or any other relation, and beg you +to come with them, using every art and entreaty; but beware you neither +move nor speak. And if you can continue to keep silent and motionless +all the night, until you see the first streak of dawn, then start up and +cry aloud, "Praise be to God! His daylight filleth the heavens!" + +As soon as you have said this, the elves will leave you, and with you +all the wealth they have used to entice you, which will now be yours. + +But should you either answer, or accept of their offers, you will from +that moment become mad. + +On the night of one Christmas Eve, a man named Fusi was out on the +cross-roads, and managed to resist all the entreaties and proffers of +the elves, until one of them offered him a large lump of mutton-suet, +and begged him to take a bite of it. Fusi, who had up to this time +gallantly resisted all such offers as gold and silver and diamonds and +such filthy lucre, could hold out no longer, and crying, "Seldom have I +refused a bite of mutton-suet," he went mad. + + + + +ERNST MORITZ ARNDT + +(1769-1860) + + +Sprung from the sturdy peasant stock of the north, to which patriotism +is a chief virtue, Ernst Moritz Arndt first saw the light at Schoritz, +Island of Rügen (then a dependency of Sweden), December 29th, 1769. His +father, once a serf, had achieved a humble independence, and he destined +his clever son for the ministry, the one vocation open to him which +meant honor and advancement. The young man studied theology at +Greifswald and Jena, but later turned his attention exclusively to +history and literature. His early life is delightfully described in his +'Stories and Recollections of Childhood.' His youth was molded by the +influence of Goethe, Klopstock, Bürger, and Voss. After completing his +university studies he traveled extensively in Austria, Hungary, and +Northern Italy. His account of these journeys, published in 1802, shows +his keen observation of men and affairs. + +[Illustration: ERNST ARNDT] + +He began his long service to his country by his 'History of Serfdom in +Pomerania and Sweden,' which contributed largely to the general +abolition of the ancient abuse. He became professor of history in the +University of Greifswald in 1806, and about that time began to publish +the first series of the 'Spirit of the Times.' These were stirring +appeals to rouse the Germans against the oppressions of Napoleon. In +consequence he was obliged to flee to Sweden. After three years he +returned under an assumed name, and again took up his work at +Greifswald. In 1812, after the occupation of Pomerania by the French, +his fierce denunciations again forced him to flee, this time to Russia, +the only refuge open to him. There he joined Baron von Stein, who +eagerly made use of him in his schemes for the liberation of Germany. At +this time his finest poems were written: those kindling war songs that +appealed so strongly to German patriotism, when "songs were sermons and +sermons were songs." The most famous of these, 'What is the German's +Fatherland?' 'The Song of the Field-marshal,' and 'The God Who Made +Earth's Iron Hoard,' still live as national lyrics. + +Arndt was also constantly occupied in writing pamphlets of the most +stirring nature, as their titles show:--'The Rhine, Germany's River, +but Never Germany's Boundary'; 'The Soldier's Catechism'; and 'The +Militia and the General Levy.' After the disasters of the French in +Russia, he returned to Germany, unceasingly devoted to his task of +rousing the people. Though by birth a Swede, he had become at heart a +Prussian, seeing in Prussia alone the possibility of German unity. + +In 1817 he married Schleiermacher's sister, and the following year was +appointed professor of history in the newly established University of +Bonn. Shortly afterward suspended, on account of his liberal views, he +was forced to spend twenty years in retirement. His leisure gave +opportunity for literary work, however, and he availed himself of it by +producing several historical treatises and his interesting +'Reminiscences of My Public Life.' One of the first acts of Frederick +William IV., after his accession, was to restore Arndt to his +professorship at Bonn. He took a lively interest in the events of 1848, +and belonged to the deputation that offered the imperial crown to the +King of Prussia. He continued in the hope and the advocacy of German +unity, though he did not live to see it realized. The ninetieth birthday +of "Father Arndt," as he was fondly called by his countrymen, was +celebrated with general rejoicing throughout Germany. He died shortly +afterward, on January 29th, 1860. + +Arndt's importance as a poet is due to the stirring scenes of his +earlier life and the political needs of Germany. He was no genius. He +was not even a deep scholar. His only great work is his war-songs and +patriotic ballads. Germany honors his manly character and patriotic zeal +in that stormy period of Liberation which led through many apparent +defeats to the united Empire of to-day. + +The best German biographies are that of Schenkel (1869), W. Baur (1882), +and Langenberg (1869); the latter in 1878 edited 'Arndt's Letters to a +Friend.' J.R. Seeley's 'Life and Adventures of E.M. Arndt' (1879) is +founded on the latter's 'Reminiscences of My Public Life. + + + + WHAT IS THE GERMAN'S FATHERLAND? + + What is the German's fatherland? + Is it Prussia, or the Swabian's land? + Is it where the grape glows on the Rhine? + Where sea-gulls skim the Baltic's brine? + Oh no! more grand + Must be the German's fatherland! + + What is the German's fatherland? + Bavaria, or the Styrian's land? + Is it where the Master's cattle graze? + Is it the Mark where forges blaze? + Oh no! more grand + Must be the German's fatherland! + + What is the German's fatherland? + Westphalia? Pomerania's strand? + Where the sand drifts along the shore? + Or where the Danube's surges roar? + Oh no! more grand + Must be the German's fatherland! + + What is the German's fatherland? + Now name for me that mighty land! + Is it Switzerland? or Tyrols, tell;-- + The land and people pleased me well! + Oh no! more grand + Must be the German's fatherland! + + What is the German's fatherland? + Now name for me that mighty land! + Ah! Austria surely it must be, + So rich in fame and victory. + Oh no! more grand + Must be the German's fatherland! + + What is the German's fatherland? + Tell me the name of that great land! + Is it the land which princely hate + Tore from the Emperor and the State? + Oh no! more grand + Must be the German's fatherland! + + What is the German's fatherland? + Now name at last that mighty land! + "Where'er resounds the German tongue, + Where'er its hymns to God are sung!" + That is the land, + Brave German, that thy fatherland! + + That is the German's fatherland! + Where binds like oak the clasped hand, + Where truth shines clearly from the eyes, + And in the heart affection lies. + Be this the land, + Brave German, this thy fatherland! + + That is the German's fatherland! + Where scorn shall foreign triflers brand, + Where all are foes whose deeds offend, + Where every noble soul's a friend: + Be this the land, + All Germany shall be the land! + + All Germany that land shall be: + Watch o'er it, God, and grant that we, + With German hearts, in deed and thought, + May love it truly as we ought. + Be this the land, + All Germany shall be the land! + + + THE SONG OF THE FIELD-MARSHAL + + What's the blast from the trumpets? Hussars, to the fray! + The field-marshal[2] rides in the rolling mellay: + So gay on, his mettlesome war-horse he goes, + So fierce waves his glittering sword at his foes. + And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa! + The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah! + + [Footnote 2: Blücher] + + Oh, see as he comes how his piercing eyes gleam! + Oh, see how behind him his snowy locks stream! + So fresh blooms his age, like a well-ripened wine, + He may well as the battle-field's autocrat shine. + And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa! + The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah! + + It was he, when his country in ruin was laid, + Who sternly to heaven uplifted his blade, + And swore on the brand, with a heart burning high, + To show Frenchmen the trade that the Prussians could ply. + And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa! + The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah! + + That oath he has kept. When the battle-cry rang, + Hey! how the gray youth to the saddle upsprang! + He made a sweep-dance for the French in the room, + And swept the land clean with a steel-ended broom. + And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa! + The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah! + + At Lützen, in the meadow, he kept up such a strife, + That many thousand Frenchmen there yielded up their life; + That thousands ran headlong for very life's sake, + And thousands are sleeping who never will wake. + And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa! + The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah! + + On the water, at Katzbach, his oath was in trim: + He taught in a moment the Frenchmen to swim. + Farewell, Frenchmen; fly to the Baltic to save! + You mob without breeches, catch whales for your grave. + And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa! + The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah! + + At Wartburg, on the Elbe, how he cleared him a path! + Neither fortress nor town barred the French from his wrath; + Like hares o'er the field they all scuttled away, + While behind them the hero rang out his Huzza! + And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa! + The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah! + + At Leipzig--O glorious fight on the plain!-- + French luck and French might strove against him in vain; + There beaten and stiff lay the foe in their blood, + And there dear old Blücher a field-marshal stood. + And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa! + The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah! + + Then sound, blaring trumpets! Hussars, charge once more! + Ride, field-marshal, ride like the wind in the roar! + To the Rhine, over Rhine, in your triumph advance! + Brave sword of our country, right on into France! + And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa! + The Germans are joyful; they're shouting hurrah! + + + PATRIOTIC SONG + + God, who gave iron, purposed ne'er + That man should be a slave: + Therefore the sabre, sword, and spear + In his right hand He gave. + Therefore He gave him fiery mood, + Fierce speech, and free-born breath, + That he might fearlessly the feud + Maintain through life and death. + + Therefore will we what God did say, + With honest truth, maintain, + And ne'er a fellow-creature slay, + A tyrant's pay to gain! + But he shall fall by stroke of brand + Who fights for sin and shame, + And not inherit German land + With men of German name. + + O Germany, bright fatherland! + O German love, so true! + Thou sacred land, thou beauteous land, + We swear to thee anew! + Outlawed, each knave and coward shall + The crow and raven feed; + But we will to the battle all-- + Revenge shall be our meed. + + Flash forth, flash forth, whatever can, + To bright and flaming life! + Now all ye Germans, man for man, + Forth to the holy strife! + Your hands lift upward to the sky-- + Your heart shall upward soar-- + And man for man, let each one cry, + Our slavery is o'er! + + Let sound, let sound, whatever can, + Trumpet and fife and drum, + This day our sabres, man for man, + To stain with blood we come; + With hangman's and with Frenchmen's blood, + O glorious day of ire, + That to all Germans soundeth good-- + Day of our great desire! + + Let wave, let wave, whatever can, + Standard and banner wave! + Here will we purpose, man for man, + To grace a hero's grave. + Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily-- + Your banners wave on high; + We'll gain us freedom's victory, + Or freedom's death we'll die! + + + + +EDWIN ARNOLD + +(1832-) + + +The favorite and now venerable English poet, Edwin Arnold, showed his +skill in smooth and lucid verse early in life. In 1852, when twenty +years of age, he won the Newdigate Prize at Oxford for a poem, 'The +Feast of Belshazzar.' Two years later, after graduation with honors, he +was named second master of Edward the Sixth's School at Birmingham; and, +a few years subsequent, principal of the Government Sanskrit College at +Poona, in India. In 1856 he published 'Griselda, a Tragedy'; and after +his return to London in 1861, translations from the Greek of Herodotus +and the Sanskrit of the Indian classic 'Hitopadeça,' the latter under +the name of 'The Book of Good Counsels.' There followed from his pen +'Education in India'; 'A History of the Administration in India under +the Late Marquis of Dalhousie' (1862-64); and 'The Poets of Greece,' a +collection of fine passages (1869). In addition to his other labors he +has been one of the editors-in-chief of the London Daily Telegraph. + +Saturated with the Orient, familiar with every aspect of its +civilization, moral and religious life, history and feeling, Sir Edwin's +literary work has attested his knowledge in a large number of smaller +poetical productions, and a group of religious epics of long and +impressive extent. Chiefest among them ranks that on the life and +teachings of Buddha, 'The Light of Asia; or, The Great Renunciation' +(1879). It has passed through more than eighty editions in this country, +and almost as many in England. In recognition of this work Mr. Arnold +was decorated by the King of Siam with the Order of the White Elephant. +Two years after its appearance he published 'Mahâbhârata,' 'Indian +Idylls,' and in 1883, 'Pearls of the Faith; or, Islam's Rosary Being the +Ninety-nine Beautiful Names of Allah, with Comments in Verse from +Various Oriental Sources.' In 1886 the Sultan conferred on him the +Imperial Order of Osmanli, and in 1888 he was created Knight Commander +of the Indian Empire by Queen Victoria. 'Sa'di in the Garden; or, The +Book of Love' (1888), a poem turning on a part of the 'Bôstâni' of the +Persian poet Sa'di, brought Sir Edwin the Order of the Lion and Sun from +the Shah of Persia. In 1888 he published also 'Poems National and +Non-Oriental.' Since then he has written 'The Light of the World'; +'Potiphar's Wife, and Other Poems' (1892); 'The Iliad and Odyssey of +Asia,' and in prose, 'India Revisited' (1891); 'Seas and Lands'; +'Japonica,' which treats of life and things Japanese; and 'Adzuma, the +Japanese Wife: a Play in Four Acts' (1893). During his travels in Japan +the Emperor decorated him with the Order of the Rising Sun. In 1893 Sir +Edwin was chosen President of the Birmingham and Midland Institute. His +latest volume, 'The Tenth Muse and Other Poems,' appeared in 1895. + +'The Light of Asia,' the most successful of his works, attracted instant +attention on its appearance, as a novelty of rich Indian local color. In +substance it is a graceful and dramatic paraphrase of the mass of more +or less legendary tales of the life and spiritual career of the Buddha, +Prince Gautama, and a summary of the principles of the great religious +system originating with him. It is lavishly embellished with Indian +allusions, and expresses incidentally the very spirit of the East. In +numerous cantos, proceeding from episode to episode of its mystical +hero's career, its effect is that of a loftily ethical, picturesque, and +fascinating biography, in highly polished verse. The metre selected is a +graceful and dignified one, especially associated with 'Paradise Lost' +and other of the foremost classics of English verse. Sir Edwin says of +the poem in his preface, "I have sought, by the medium of an imaginary +Buddhist votary, to depict the life and character and indicate the +philosophy of that noble hero and reformer, Prince Gautama of India, the +founder of Buddhism;" and the poet has admirably, if most flatteringly, +succeeded. The poem has been printed in innumerable cheap editions as +well as those _de luxe_; and while it has been criticized as too +complaisant a study of even primitive Buddhism, it is beyond doubt a +lyrical tract of eminent utility as well as seductive charm. + + + THE YOUTH OF BUDDHA + + From 'The Light of Asia' + + This reverence + Lord Buddha kept to all his schoolmasters, + Albeit beyond their learning taught; in speech + Right gentle, yet so wise; princely of mien, + Yet softly mannered; modest, deferent, + And tender-hearted, though of fearless blood: + No bolder horseman in the youthful band + E'er rode in gay chase of the shy gazelles; + No keener driver of the chariot + In mimic contest scoured the palace courts: + Yet in mid-play the boy would oft-times pause, + Letting the deer pass free; would oft-times yield + His half-won race because the laboring steeds + Fetched painful breath; or if his princely mates + Saddened to lose, or if some wistful dream + Swept o'er his thoughts. And ever with the years + Waxed this compassionateness of our Lord, + Even as a great tree grows from two soft leaves + To spread its shade afar; but hardly yet + Knew the young child of sorrow, pain, or tears, + Save as strange names for things not felt by kings, + Nor ever to be felt. But it befell + In the royal garden on a day of spring, + A flock of wild swans passed, voyaging north + To their nest-places on Himála's breast. + Calling in love-notes down their snowy line + The bright birds flew, by fond love piloted; + And Devadatta, cousin of the Prince, + Pointed his bow, and loosed a willful shaft + Which found the wide wing of the foremost swan + Broad-spread to glide upon the free blue road, + So that it fell, the bitter arrow fixed, + Bright scarlet blood-gouts staining the pure plumes. + Which seeing, Prince Siddârtha took the bird + Tenderly up, rested it in his lap,-- + Sitting with knees crossed, as Lord Buddha sits,-- + And, soothing with a touch the wild thing's fright, + Composed its ruffled vans, calmed its quick heart, + Caressed it into peace with light kind palms + As soft as plantain leaves an hour unrolled; + And while the left hand held, the right hand drew + The cruel steel forth from the wound, and laid + Cool leaves and healing honey on the smart. + Yet all so little knew the boy of pain, + That curiously into his wrist he pressed + The arrow's barb, and winced to feel it sting, + And turned with tears to soothe his bird again. + Then some one came who said, "My Prince hath shot + A swan, which fell among the roses here; + He bids me pray you send it. Will you send?" + "Nay," quoth Siddârtha: "If the bird were dead, + To send it to the slayer might be well, + But the swan lives; my cousin hath but killed + The godlike speed which throbbed in this white wing." + And Devadatta answered, "The wild thing, + Living or dead, is his who fetched it down; + 'Twas no man's in the clouds, but fallen 'tis mine. + Give me my prize, fair cousin." Then our Lord + Laid the swan's neck beside his own smooth cheek + And gravely spake:--"Say no! the bird is mine, + The first of myriad things which shall be mine + By right of mercy and love's lordliness. + For now I know, by what within me stirs. + That I shall teach compassion unto men + And be a speechless world's interpreter, + Abating this accursed flood of woe. + Not man's alone; but if the Prince disputes, + Let him submit this matter to the wise + And we will wait their word." So was it done; + In full divan the business had debate, + And many thought this thing and many that, + Till there arose an unknown priest who said, + "If life be aught, the savior of a life + Owns more the living thing than he can own + Who sought to slay; the slayer spoils and wastes, + The cherisher sustains: give him the bird." + Which judgment all found just; but when the King + Sought out the sage for honor, he was gone; + And some one saw a hooded snake glide forth. + The gods come oft-times thus! So our Lord Buddha + Began his works of mercy. + + Yet not more + Knew he as yet of grief than that one bird's, + Which, being healed, went joyous to its kind. + But on another day the King said, "Come, + Sweet son! and see the pleasaunce of the spring, + And how the fruitful earth is wooed to yield + Its riches to the reaper; how my realm-- + Which shall be thine when the pile flames for me-- + Feeds all its mouths and keeps the King's chest filled. + Fair is the season with new leaves, bright blooms, + Green grass, and cries of plow-time." So they rode + Into a land of wells and gardens, where, + All up and down the rich red loam, the steers + Strained their strong shoulders in the creaking yoke, + Dragging the plows; the fat soil rose and rolled + In smooth dark waves back from the plow; who drove + Planted both feet upon the leaping share + To make the furrow deep; among the palms + The tinkle of the rippling water rang, + And where it ran the glad earth 'broidered it + With balsams and the spears of lemon-grass. + Elsewhere were sowers who went forth to sow; + And all the jungle laughed with nesting-songs, + And all the thickets rustled with small life + Of lizard, bee, beetle, and creeping things, + Pleased at the springtime. In the mango-sprays + The sunbirds flashed; alone at his green forge + Toiled the loud coppersmith; bee-eaters hawked, + Chasing the purple butterflies; beneath, + Striped squirrels raced, the mynas perked and picked, + The nine brown sisters chattered in the thorn, + The pied fish-tiger hung above the pool, + The egrets stalked among the buffaloes, + The kites sailed circles in the golden air; + About the painted temple peacocks flew, + The blue doves cooed from every well, far off + The village drums beat for some marriage feast; + All things spoke peace and plenty, and the Prince + Saw and rejoiced. But, looking deep, he saw + The thorns which grow upon this rose of life: + How the swart peasant sweated for his wage, + Toiling for leave to live; and how he urged + The great-eyed oxen through the flaming hours, + Goading their velvet flanks: then marked he, too, + How lizard fed on ant, and snake on him, + And kite on both; and how the fish-hawk robbed + The fish-tiger of that which it had seized; + The shrike chasing the bulbul, which did chase + The jeweled butterflies; till everywhere + Each slew a slayer and in turn was slain, + Life living upon death. So the fair show + Veiled one vast, savage, grim conspiracy + Of mutual murder, from the worm to man, + Who himself kills his fellow; seeing which-- + The hungry plowman and his laboring kine, + Their dewlaps blistered with the bitter yoke, + The rage to live which makes all living strife-- + The Prince Siddârtha sighed. "Is this," he said, + "That happy earth they brought me forth to see? + How salt with sweat the peasant's bread! how hard + The oxen's service! in the brake how fierce + The war of weak and strong! i' th' air what plots! + No refuge e'en in water. Go aside + A space, and let me muse on what ye show." + So saying, the good Lord Buddha seated him + Under a jambu-tree, with ankles crossed, + As holy statues sit, and first began + To meditate this deep disease of life, + What its far source and whence its remedy. + So vast a pity filled him, such wide love + For living things, such passion to heal pain, + That by their stress his princely spirit passed + To ecstasy, and, purged from mortal taint + Of sense and self, the boy attained thereat + Dhyâna, first step of "the Path." + + + THE PURE SACRIFICE OF BUDDHA + + From 'The Light of Asia' + + Onward he passed, + Exceeding sorrowful, seeing how men + Fear so to die they are afraid to fear, + Lust so to live they dare not love their life, + But plague it with fierce penances, belike + To please the gods who grudge pleasure to man; + Belike to balk hell by self-kindled hells; + Belike in holy madness, hoping soul + May break the better through their wasted flesh. + "O flowerets of the field!" Siddârtha said, + "Who turn your tender faces to the sun,-- + Glad of the light, and grateful with sweet breath + Of fragrance and these robes of reverence donned, + Silver and gold and purple,--none of ye + Miss perfect living, none of ye despoil + Your happy beauty. O ye palms! which rise + Eager to pierce the sky and drink the wind + Blown from Malaya and the cool blue seas; + What secret know ye that ye grow content, + From time of tender shoot to time of fruit, + Murmuring such sun-songs from your feathered crowns? + Ye too, who dwell so merry in the trees,-- + Quick-darting parrots, bee-birds, bulbuls, doves,-- + None of ye hate your life, none of ye deem + To strain to better by foregoing needs! + But man, who slays ye--being lord--is wise, + And wisdom, nursed on blood, cometh thus forth + In self-tormentings!" + + While the Master spake + Blew down the mount the dust of pattering feet, + White goats and black sheep winding slow their way + With many a lingering nibble at the tufts, + And wanderings from the path, where water gleamed + Or wild figs hung. But always as they strayed + The herdsman cried, or slung his sling, and kept + The silly crowd still moving to the plain. + A ewe with couplets in the flock there was: + Some hurt had lamed one lamb, which toiled behind + Bleeding, while in the front its fellow skipped, + And the vexed dam hither and thither ran, + Fearful to lose this little one or that; + Which when our Lord did mark, full tenderly + He took the limping lamb upon his neck, + Saying, "Poor wooly mother, be at peace! + Whither thou goest I will bear thy care; + 'Twere all as good to ease one beast of grief + As sit and watch the sorrows of the world + In yonder caverns with the priests who pray." + "But," spake he of the herdsmen, "wherefore, friends! + Drive ye the flocks adown under high noon, + Since 'tis at evening that men fold their sheep?" + + And answer gave the peasants:--"We are sent + To fetch a sacrifice of goats fivescore, + And fivescore sheep, the which our Lord the King + Slayeth this night in worship of his gods." + + Then said the Master, "I will also go!" + So paced he patiently, bearing the lamb + Beside the herdsmen in the dust and sun, + The wistful ewe low bleating at his feet. + Whom, when they came unto the river-side, + A woman--dove-eyed, young, with tearful face + And lifted hands--saluted, bending low:-- + "Lord! thou art he," she said, "who yesterday + Had pity on me in the fig grove here, + Where I live lone and reared my child; but he, + Straying amid the blossoms, found a snake, + Which twined about his wrist, while he did laugh + And teased the quick forked tongue and opened mouth + Of that cold playmate. But alas! ere long + He turned so pale and still, I could not think + Why he should cease to play, and let my breast + Fall from his lips. And one said, 'He is sick + Of poison;' and another, 'He will die.' + But I, who could not lose my precious boy, + Prayed of them physic, which might bring the light + Back to his eyes; it was so very small, + That kiss-mark of the serpent, and I think + It could not hate him, gracious as he was, + Nor hurt him in his sport. And some one said, + 'There is a holy man upon the hill-- + Lo! now he passeth in the yellow robe; + Ask of the Rishi if there be a cure + For that which ails thy son.' Whereon I came + Trembling to thee, whose brow is like a god's, + And wept and drew the face-cloth from my babe, + Praying thee tell what simples might be good. + And thou, great sir! didst spurn me not, but gaze + With gentle eyes and touch with patient hand; + Then draw the face-cloth back, saying to me, + 'Yea! little sister, there is that might heal + Thee first, and him, if thou couldst fetch the thing; + For they who seek physicians bring to them + What is ordained. Therefore, I pray thee, find + Black mustard-seed, a tola; only mark + Thou take it not from any hand or house + Where father, mother, child, or slave hath died; + It shall be well if thou canst find such seed.' + Thus didst thou speak, my lord!" + + The Master smiled + Exceeding tenderly. "Yea! I spake thus, + Dear Kisagôtami! But didst thou find + The seed?" + + "I went, Lord, clasping to my breast + The babe, grown colder, asking at each hut,-- + Here in the jungle and toward the town,-- + 'I pray you, give me mustard, of your grace, + A tola--black' and each who had it gave, + For all the poor are piteous to the poor: + But when I asked, 'In my friend's household here + Hath any peradventure ever died-- + Husband or wife, or child, or slave?' they said:-- + 'O sister! what is this you ask? the dead + Are very many and the living few!' + So, with sad thanks, I gave the mustard back, + And prayed of others, but the others said, + 'Here is the seed, but we have lost our slave!' + 'Here is the seed, but our good man is dead!' + 'Here is some seed, but he that sowed it died! + Between the rain-time and the harvesting!' + Ah, sir! I could not find a single house + Where there was mustard-seed and none had died! + Therefore I left my child--who would not suck + Nor smile--beneath the wild vines by the stream, + To seek thy face and kiss thy feet, and pray + Where I might find this seed and find no death, + If now, indeed, my baby be not dead, + As I do fear, and as they said to me." + + "My sister! thou hast found," the Master said, + "Searching for what none finds, that bitter balm + I had to give thee. He thou lovedst slept + Dead on thy bosom yesterday; to-day + Thou know'st the whole wide world weeps with thy woe; + The grief which all hearts share grows less for one. + Lo! I would pour my blood if it could stay + Thy tears, and win the secret of that curse + Which makes sweet love our anguish, and which drives + O'er flowers and pastures to the sacrifice-- + As these dumb beasts are driven--men their lords. + I seek that secret: bury thou thy child!" + + So entered they the city side by side, + The herdsmen and the Prince, what time the sun + Gilded slow Sona's distant stream, and threw + Long shadows down the street and through the gate + Where the King's men kept watch. But when these saw + Our Lord bearing the lamb, the guards stood back, + The market-people drew their wains aside, + In the bazaar buyers and sellers stayed + The war of tongues to gaze on that mild face; + The smith, with lifted hammer in his hand, + Forgot to strike; the weaver left his web, + The scribe his scroll, the money-changer lost + His count of cowries; from the unwatched rice + Shiva's white bull fed free; the wasted milk + Ran o'er the lota while the milkers watched + The passage of our Lord moving so meek, + With yet so beautiful a majesty. + But most the women gathering in the doors + Asked, "Who is this that brings the sacrifice + So graceful and peace-giving as he goes? + What is his caste? whence hath he eyes so sweet? + Can he be Sâkra or the Devaraj?" + And others said, "It is the holy man + Who dwelleth with the Rishis on the hill." + But the Lord paced, in meditation lost, + Thinking, "Alas! for all my sheep which have + No shepherd; wandering in the night with none + To guide them; bleating blindly toward the knife + Of Death, as these dumb beasts which are their kin." + + Then some one told the King, "There cometh here + A holy hermit, bringing down the flock + Which thou didst bid to crown the sacrifice." + + The King stood in his hall of offering; + On either hand the white-robed Brahmans ranged + Muttered their mantras, feeding still the fire + Which roared upon the midmost altar. There + From scented woods flickered bright tongues of flame, + Hissing and curling as they licked the gifts + Of ghee and spices and the Soma juice, + The joy of Indra. Round about the pile + A slow, thick, scarlet streamlet smoked and ran, + Sucked by the sand, but ever rolling down, + The blood of bleating victims. One such lay, + A spotted goat, long-horned, its head bound back + With munja grass; at its stretched throat the knife + Pressed by a priest, who murmured, "This, dread gods. + Of many yajnas cometh as the crown + From Bimbasâra: take ye joy to see + The spirted blood, and pleasure in the scent + Of rich flesh roasting 'mid the fragrant flames; + Let the King's sins be laid upon this goat, + And let the fire consume them burning it, + For now I strike." + + But Buddha softly said, + "Let him not strike, great King!" and therewith loosed + The victim's bonds, none staying him, so great + His presence was. Then, craving leave, he spake + Of life, which all can take, but none can give, + Life, which all creatures love and strive to keep, + Wonderful, dear and pleasant unto each, + Even to the meanest; yea, a boon to all + Where pity is, for pity makes the world + Soft to the weak and noble for the strong. + Unto the dumb lips of his flock he lent + Sad, pleading words, showing how man, who prays + For mercy to the gods, is merciless, + Being as god to those; albeit all life + Is linked and kin, and what we slay have given + Meek tribute of the milk and wool, and set + Fast trust upon the hands which murder them. + Also he spake of what the holy books + Do surely teach, how that at death some sink + To bird and beast, and these rise up to man + In wanderings of the spark which grows purged flame. + So were the sacrifice new sin, if so + The fated passage of a soul be stayed. + Nor, spake he, shall one wash his spirit clean + By blood; nor gladden gods, being good, with blood; + Nor bribe them, being evil; nay, nor lay + Upon the brow of innocent bound beasts + One hair's weight of that answer all must give + For all things done amiss or wrongfully, + Alone, each for himself, reckoning with that + The fixed arithmetic of the universe, + Which meteth good for good and ill for ill, + Measure for measure, unto deeds, words, thoughts; + Watchful, aware, implacable, unmoved; + Making all futures fruits of all the pasts. + Thus spake he, breathing words so piteous + With such high lordliness of ruth and right, + The priests drew back their garments o'er the hands + Crimsoned with slaughter, and the King came near, + Standing with clasped palms reverencing Buddha; + While still our Lord went on, teaching how fair + This earth were if all living things be linked + In friendliness of common use of foods, + Bloodless and pure; the golden grain, bright fruits, + Sweet herbs which grow for all, the waters wan, + Sufficient drinks and meats. Which, when these heard, + The might of gentleness so conquered them, + The priests themselves scattered their altar-flames + And flung away the steel of sacrifice; + And through the land next day passed a decree + Proclaimed by criers, and in this wise graved + On rock and column:--"Thus the King's will is: + There hath been slaughter for the sacrifice + And slaying for the meat, but henceforth none + Shall spill the blood of life nor taste of flesh, + Seeing that knowledge grows, and life is one, + And mercy cometh to the merciful." + So ran the edict, and from those days forth + Sweet peace hath spread between all living kind, + Man and the beasts which serve him, and the birds, + Of all those banks of Gunga where our Lord + Taught with his saintly pity and soft speech. + + + + THE FAITHFULNESS OF YUDHISTHIRA + + From 'The Great Journey,' in the Mahâbhârata + + + Thenceforth alone the long-armed monarch strode, + Not looking back,--nay, not for Bhima's sake,--But + walking with his face set for the mount; + And the hound followed him,--only the hound. + + After the deathly sands, the Mount; and lo! + Sâkra shone forth, the God, filling the earth + And heavens with thunder of his chariot-wheels. + "Ascend," he said, "with me, Pritha's great son!" + But Yudhisthira answered, sore at heart + For those his kinsfolk, fallen on the way: + "O Thousand-eyed, O Lord of all the gods, + Give that my brothers come with me, who fell! + Not without them is Swarga sweet to me. + She, too, the dear and kind and queenly,--she + Whose perfect virtue Paradise must crown,--Grant + her to come with us! Dost thou grant this?" + + The God replied:--"In heaven thou shalt see + Thy kinsman and the Queen--these will attain--And + Krishna. Grieve no longer for thy dead, + Thou chief of men! their mortal covering stripped, + These have their places; but to thee the gods + Allot an unknown grace; Thou shalt go up, + Living and in thy form, to the immortal homes." + + But the King answered:--"O thou Wisest One, + Who know'st what was, and is, and is to be, + Still one more grace! This hound hath ate with me, + Followed me, loved me: must I leave him now?" + + "Monarch," spake Indra, "thou art now as we,-- + Deathless, divine; thou art become a god; + Glory and power and gifts celestial, + And all the joys of heaven are thine for aye; + What hath a beast with these? Leave here thy hound." + + Yet Yudhisthira answered:--"O Most High, + O, Thousand-eyed and wisest! can it be + That one exalted should seem pitiless? + Nay, let me lose such glory; for its sake + I cannot leave one living thing I loved." + + Then sternly Indra spake:--"He is unclean, + And into Swarga such shall enter not. + The Krodhavasha's wrath destroys the fruits + Of sacrifice, if dogs defile the fire. + Bethink thee, Dharmaraj; quit now this beast! + That which is seemly is not hard of heart." + + Still he replied:--"Tis written that to spurn + A suppliant equals in offense to slay + A twice-born; wherefore, not for Swarga's bliss + Quit I, Mahendra, this poor clinging dog,-- + So without any hope or friend save me, + So wistful, fawning for my faithfulness; + So agonized to die, unless I help + Who among men was called steadfast and just." + + Quoth Indra:--"Nay, the altar-flame is foul + Where a dog passeth; angry angels sweep + The ascending smoke aside, and all the fruits + Of offering, and the merit of the prayer + Of him whom a hound toucheth. Leave it here! + He that will enter heaven must enter pure. + Why didst thou quit thy brethren on the way, + And Krishna, and the dear-loved Draupadí, + Attaining, firm and glorious, to this Mount + Through perfect deeds, to linger for a brute? + Hath Yudhisthira vanquished self, to melt + With one poor passion at the door of bliss? + Stay'st thou for this, who didst not stay for them,-- + Draupadí, Bhima?" + + But the King yet spake:-- + "'Tis known that none can hurt or help the dead. + They, the delightful ones, who sank and died, + Following my footsteps, could not live again + Though I had turned,--therefore I did not turn; + But could help profit, I had stayed to help. + There be four sins, O Sâkra, grievous sins: + The first is making suppliants despair, + The second is to slay a nursing wife, + The third is spoiling Brahmans' goods by force, + The fourth is injuring an ancient friend. + These four I deem not direr than the crime, + If one, in coming forth from woe to weal, + Abandon any meanest comrade then." + + Straight as he spake, brightly great Indra smiled; + Vanished the hound, and in its stead stood there + The Lord of Death and Justice, Dharma's self! + Sweet were the words which fell from those dread lips, + Precious the lovely praise:--"O thou true King, + Thou that dost bring to harvest the good seed + Of Pandu's righteousness; thou that hast ruth + As he before, on all which lives!--O son! + I tried thee in the Dwaita wood, what time + They smote thy brothers, bringing water; then + Thou prayedst for Nakula's life--tender and just-- + Nor Bhima's nor Arjuna's, true to both, + To Madri as to Kunti, to both queens. + Hear thou my word! Because thou didst not mount + This car divine, lest the poor hound be shent + Who looked to thee, lo! there is none in heaven + Shall sit above thee, King!--Bhârata's son! + Enter thou now to the eternal joys, + Living and in thy form. Justice and Love + Welcome thee, Monarch! thou shalt throne with us." + + + HE AND SHE + + "She is dead!" they said to him: "come away; + Kiss her and leave her,--thy love is clay!" + + They smoothed her tresses of dark-brown hair; + On her forehead of stone they laid it fair; + + Over her eyes that gazed too much + They drew the lids with a gentle touch; + + With a tender touch they closed up well + The sweet thin lips that had secrets to tell; + + About her brows and beautiful face + They tied her veil and her marriage lace, + + And drew on her white feet her white-silk shoes,-- + Which were the whitest no eye could choose,-- + + And over her bosom they crossed her hands, + "Come away!" they said, "God understands." + + And there was silence, and nothing there + But silence, and scents of eglantere, + + And jasmine, and roses and rosemary; + And they said, "As a lady should lie, lies she." + + And they held their breath till they left the room, + With a shudder, to glance at its stillness and gloom. + + But he who loved her too well to dread + The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead, + + He lit his lamp, and took the key + And turned it--alone again, he and she. + + He and she; but she would not speak, + Though he kissed, in the old place, the quiet cheek. + + He and she; yet she would not smile, + Though he called her the name she loved erewhile. + + He and she; still she did not move + To any passionate whisper of love. + + Then he said, "Cold lips and breasts without breath, + Is there no voice, no language of death, + + "Dumb to the ear and still to the sense, + But to heart and to soul distinct, intense? + + "See, now; I will listen with soul, not ear: + What was the secret of dying, dear? + + "Was it the infinite wonder of all + That you ever could let life's flower fall? + + "Or was it a greater marvel to feel + The perfect calm o'er the agony steal? + + "Was the miracle greater to find how deep + Beyond all dreams sank downward that sleep? + + "Did life roll back its record dear, + And show, as they say it does, past things clear? + + "And was it the innermost heart of the bliss + To find out so, what a wisdom love is? + + "O perfect dead! O dead most dear! + I hold the breath of my soul to hear. + + "I listen as deep as to horrible hell, + As high as to heaven, and you do not tell. + + "There must be pleasure in dying, sweet, + To make you so placid from head to feet! + + "I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, + And 'twere your hot tears upon my brow shed,-- + + "I would say, though the Angel of Death had laid + His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid,-- + + "You should not ask vainly, with streaming eyes, + Which of all deaths was the chiefest surprise. + + "The very strangest and suddenest thing + Of all the surprises that dying must bring." + + Ah, foolish world! O most kind dead! + Though he told me, who will believe it was said? + + Who will believe that he heard her say, + With the sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way, + + "The utmost wonder is this,--I hear + And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear; + + "And am your angel, who was your bride, + And know that though dead, I have never died." + + + AFTER DEATH + + From 'Pearls of the Faith' + + _He made life--and He takes it--but instead + Gives more: praise the Restorer, Al-Mu'hid!_ + + He who died at Azan sends + This to comfort faithful friends:-- + + Faithful friends! it lies, I know, + Pale and white and cold as snow; + And ye say, "Abdullah's dead!" + Weeping at my feet and head. + I can see your falling tears, + I can hear your cries and prayers, + Yet I smile and whisper this:-- + "I am not that thing you kiss; + Cease your tears and let it lie: + It _was_ mine, it is not I." + + Sweet friends! what the women lave + For its last bed in the grave + Is a tent which I am quitting, + Is a garment no more fitting, + Is a cage from which at last + Like a hawk my soul hath passed. + Love the inmate, not the room; + The wearer, not the garb; the plume + Of the falcon, not the bars + Which kept him from the splendid stars. + + Loving friends! be wise, and dry + Straightway every weeping eye: + What ye lift upon the bier + Is not worth a wistful tear. + 'Tis an empty sea-shell, one + Out of which the pearl is gone. + The shell is broken, it lies there; + The pearl, the all, the soul, is here. + 'Tis an earthen jar whose lid + Allah sealed, the while it hid + That treasure of His treasury, + A mind which loved Him: let it lie! + Let the shard be earth's once more, + Since the gold shines in His store! + + Allah Mu'hid, Allah most good! + Now Thy grace is understood: + Now my heart no longer wonders + What Al-Barsakh is, which sunders + Life from death, and death from Heaven: + Nor the "Paradises Seven" + Which the happy dead inherit; + Nor those "birds" which bear each spirit + Toward the Throne, "green birds and white" + Radiant, glorious, swift their flight! + Now the long, long darkness ends. + Yet ye wail, my foolish friends, + While the man whom ye call "dead" + In unbroken bliss instead + Lives, and loves you: lost, 'tis true + By any light which shines for you; + But in light ye cannot see + Of unfulfilled felicity, + And enlarging Paradise; + Lives the life that never dies. + + Farewell, friends! Yet not farewell; + Where I am, ye, too, shall dwell. + I am gone before your face + A heart-beat's time, a gray ant's pace. + When ye come where I have stepped, + Ye will marvel why ye wept; + Ye will know, by true love taught, + That here is all, and there is naught. + Weep awhile, if ye are fain,-- + Sunshine still must follow rain! + Only not at death, for death-- + Now I see--is that first breath + Which our souls draw when we enter + Life, that is of all life centre. + + Know ye Allah's law is love, + Viewed from Allah's Throne above; + Be ye firm of trust, and come + Faithful onward to your home! + _"La Allah illa Allah!_ Yea, + Mu'hid! Restorer! Sovereign!" say! + + _He who died at Azan gave_ + _This to those that made his grave_. + + + SOLOMON AND THE ANT + + From 'Pearls of the Faith' + + _Say Ar-Raheen! call Him "Compassionate,"_ + _For He is pitiful to small and great_. + + 'Tis written that the serving angels stand + Beside God's throne, ten myriads on each hand, + Waiting, with wings outstretched and watchful eyes, + To do their Master's heavenly embassies. + Quicker than thought His high commands they read, + Swifter than light to execute them speed; + Bearing the word of power from star to star, + Some hither and some thither, near and far. + And unto these naught is too high or low, + Too mean or mighty, if He wills it so; + Neither is any creature, great or small, + Beyond His pity, which embraceth all, + Because His eye beholdeth all which are; + Sees without search, and counteth without care. + Nor lies the babe nearer the nursing-place + Than Allah's smallest child to Allah's grace; + Nor any ocean rolls so vast that He + Forgets one wave of all that restless sea. + + Thus it is written; and moreover told + How Gabriel, watching by the Gates of Gold, + Heard from the Voice Ineffable this word + Of twofold mandate uttered by the Lord:-- + "Go earthward! pass where Solomon hath made + His pleasure-house, and sitteth there arrayed, + Goodly and splendid--whom I crowned the king. + For at this hour my servant doth a thing + Unfitting: out of Nisibis there came + A thousand steeds with nostrils all aflame + And limbs of swiftness, prizes of the fight; + Lo! these are led, for Solomon's delight, + Before the palace, where he gazeth now + Filling his heart with pride at that brave show; + So taken with the snorting and the tramp + Of his war-horses, that Our silver lamp + Of eve is swung in vain, Our warning Sun + Will sink before his sunset-prayer's begun; + So shall the people say, 'This king, our lord, + Loves more the long-maned trophies of his sword + Than the remembrance of his God!' Go in! + Save thou My faithful servant from such sin. + + "Also, upon the slope of Arafat, + Beneath a lote-tree which is fallen flat, + Toileth a yellow ant who carrieth home + Food for her nest, but so far hath she come + Her worn feet fail, and she will perish, caught + In the falling rain; but thou, make the way naught-And + help her to her people in the cleft + Of the black rock." + + Silently Gabriel left + The Presence, and prevented the king's sin, + And holp the little ant at entering in. + + _O Thou whose love is wide and great, + We praise Thee, "The Compassionate_" + + + THE AFTERNOON + + From 'Pearls of the Faith' + + _He is sufficient, and He makes suffice; + Praise thus again thy Lord, mighty and wise_. + + God is enough! thou, who in hope and fear + Toilest through desert-sands of life, sore tried, + Climb trustful over death's black ridge, for near + The bright wells shine: thou wilt be satisfied. + + God doth suffice! O thou, the patient one, + Who puttest faith in Him, and none beside, + Bear yet thy load; under the setting sun + The glad tents gleam: thou wilt be satisfied. + + By God's gold Afternoon! peace ye shall have: + Man is in loss except he live aright, + And help his fellow to be firm and brave, + Faithful and patient: then the restful night! + + _Al Mughni! best Rewarder! we + Endure; putting our trust in Thee_. + + + THE TRUMPET + + From 'Pearls of the Faith' + + _Magnify Him, Al-Kaiyum; and so call + The "Self-subsisting" God who judgeth all_. + + When the trumpet shall sound, + On that day, + The wicked, slow-gathering, + Shall say, + "Is it long we have lain in our graves? + For it seems as an hour!" + Then will Israfil call them to judgment: + And none shall have power + To turn aside, this way or that; + And their voices will sink + To silence, except for the sounding + Of a noise, like the noise on the brink + Of the sea when its stones + Are dragged with a clatter and hiss + Down the shore, in the wild breakers' roar! + The sound of their woe shall be this:-- + + Then they who denied + That He liveth Eternal, "Self-made," + Shall call to the mountains to crush them; + Amazed and affrayed. + + _Thou Self-subsistent, Living Lord! + Thy grace against that day afford_. + + + + ENVOI TO 'THE LIGHT OF ASIA' + + Ah, Blessed Lord! Oh, High Deliverer! + Forgive this feeble script which doth Thee wrong + Measuring with little wit Thy lofty Love. + Ah, Lover! Brother! Guide! Lamp of the Law! + I take my refuge in Thy name and Thee! + I take my refuge in Thy Law of God! + I take my refuge in Thy Order! _Om!_ + The Dew is on the lotus--rise, great Sun! + And lift my leaf and mix me with the wave. + _Om mani padme hum_, the Sunrise comes! + The Dewdrop slips into the Shining Sea! + +From Harper's Monthly, copyright 1886, by Harper & Brothers + + + GRISHMA; OR THE SEASON OF HEAT + + Translated from Kalidasa's 'Ritu Sanhâra' + + + With fierce noons beaming, moons of glory gleaming, + Full conduits streaming, where fair bathers lie, + With sunsets splendid, when the strong day, ended, + Melts into peace, like a tired lover's sigh-- + So cometh summer nigh. + + And nights of ebon blackness, laced with lustres + From starry clusters; courts of calm retreat, + Where wan rills warble over glistening marble; + Cold jewels, and the sandal, moist and sweet-- + These for the time are meet + + Of "Suchi," dear one of the bright days, bringing + Love songs for singing which all hearts enthrall, + Wine cups that sparkle at the lips of lovers, + Odors and pleasures in the palace hall: + In "Suchi" these befall. + + For then, with wide hips richly girt, and bosoms + Fragrant with blossoms, and with pearl strings gay, + Their new-laved hair unbound, and spreading round + Faint scents, the palace maids in tender play + The ardent heats allay + + Of princely playmates. Through the gates their feet, + With lac-dye rosy and neat, and anklets ringing, + In music trip along, echoing the song + Of wild swans, all men's hearts by subtle singing + To Kama's service bringing; + + For who, their sandal-scented breasts perceiving, + Their white pearls--weaving with the saffron stars + Girdles and diadems--their gold and gems + Linked upon waist and thigh, in Love's soft snares + Is not caught unawares? + + Then lay they by their robes--no longer light + For the warm midnight--and their beauty cover + With woven veil too airy to conceal + Its dew-pearled softness; so, with youth clad over, + Each seeks her eager lover. + + And sweet airs winnowed from the sandal fans, + Faint balm that nests between those gem-bound breasts, + Voices of stream and bird, and clear notes heard + From vina strings amid the songs' unrests, + Wake passion. With light jests, + + And sidelong glances, and coy smiles and dances, + Each maid enhances newly sprung delight; + Quick leaps the fire of Love's divine desire, + So kindled in the season when the Night + With broadest moons is bright; + + Till on the silvered terraces, sleep-sunken, + With Love's draughts drunken, those close lovers lie; + And--all for sorrow there shall come To-morrow-- + The Moon, who watched them, pales in the gray sky, + While the still Night doth die. + + * * * * * + + Then breaks fierce Day! The whirling dust is driven + O'er earth and heaven, until the sun-scorched plain + Its road scarce shows for dazzling heat to those + Who, far from home and love, journey in pain, + Longing to rest again. + + Panting and parched, with muzzles dry and burning, + For cool streams yearning, herds of antelope + Haste where the brassy sky, banked black and high, + Hath clouded promise. "There will be"--they hope-- + "Water beyond the tope!" + + Sick with the glare, his hooded terrors failing, + His slow coils trailing o'er the fiery dust, + The cobra glides to nighest shade, and hides + His head beneath the peacock's train: he must + His ancient foeman trust! + + The purple peafowl, wholly overmastered + By the red morning, droop with weary cries; + No stroke they make to slay that gliding snake + Who creeps for shelter underneath the eyes + Of their spread jewelries! + + The jungle lord, the kingly tiger, prowling, + For fierce thirst howling, orbs a-stare and red, + Sees without heed the elephants pass by him, + Lolls his lank tongue, and hangs his bloody head, + His mighty forces fled. + + Nor heed the elephants that tiger, plucking + Green leaves, and sucking with a dry trunk dew; + Tormented by the blazing day, they wander, + And, nowhere finding water, still renew + Their search--a woful crew! + + With restless snout rooting the dark morasses, + Where reeds and grasses on the soft slime grow, + The wild-boars, grunting ill-content and anger, + Dig lairs to shield them from the torturing glow, + Deep, deep as they can go. + + The frog, for misery of his pool departing-- + 'Neath that flame-darting ball--and waters drained + Down to their mud, crawls croaking forth, to cower + Under the black-snake's coils, where there is gained + A little shade; and, strained + + To patience by such heat, scorching the jewel + Gleaming so cruel on his venomous head, + That worm, whose tongue, as the blast burns along, + Licks it for coolness--all discomfited-- + Strikes not his strange friend dead! + + The pool, with tender-growing cups of lotus + Once brightly blowing, hath no blossoms more! + Its fish are dead, its fearful cranes are fled, + And crowding elephants its flowery shore + Tramp to a miry floor. + + With foam-strings roping from his jowls, and dropping + From dried drawn lips, horns laid aback, and eyes + Mad with the drouth, and thirst-tormented mouth, + Down-thundering from his mountain cavern flies + The bison in wild wise, + + Questing a water channel. Bare and scrannel + The trees droop, where the crows sit in a row + With beaks agape. The hot baboon and ape + Climb chattering to the bush. The buffalo + Bellows. And locusts go + + Choking the wells. Far o'er the hills and dells + Wanders th' affrighted eye, beholding blasted + The pleasant grass: the forest's leafy mass + Wilted; its waters waned; its grace exhausted; + Its creatures wasted. + + Then leaps to view--blood-red and bright of hue-- + As blooms sprung new on the Kusumbha-Tree-- + The wild-fire's tongue, fanned by the wind, and flung + Furiously forth; the palms, canes, brakes, you see + Wrapped in one agony + + Of lurid death! The conflagration, driven + In fiery levin, roars from jungle caves; + Hisses and blusters through the bamboo clusters, + Crackles across the curling grass, and drives + Into the river waves + + The forest folk! Dreadful that flame to see + Coil from the cotton-tree--a snake of gold-- + Violently break from root and trunk, to take + The bending boughs and leaves in deadly hold + Then passing--to enfold + + New spoils! In herds, elephants, jackals, pards, + For anguish of such fate their enmity + Laying aside, burst for the river wide + Which flows between fair isles: in company + As friends they madly flee! + + * * * * * + + But Thee, my Best Beloved! may "Suchi" visit fair + With songs of secret waters cooling the quiet air, + Under blue buds of lotus beds, and pâtalas which shed + Fragrance and balm, while Moonlight weaves over thy happy head + Its silvery veil! So Nights and Days of Summer pass for thee + Amid the pleasure-palaces, with love and melody! + + + + +MATTHEW ARNOLD + +(1822-1888) + +BY GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY + + +Matthew Arnold, an English poet and critic, was born December 24th, +1822, at Laleham, in the Thames valley. He was the son of Dr. Thomas +Arnold, best remembered as the master of Rugby in later years, and +distinguished also as a historian of Rome. His mother was, by her maiden +name, Mary Penrose, and long survived her husband. Arnold passed his +school days at Winchester and Rugby, and went to Oxford in October, +1841. There, as also at school, he won scholarship and prize, and showed +poetical talent. He was elected a fellow of Oriel in March, 1845. He +taught for a short time at Rugby, but in 1847 became private secretary +to Lord Lansdowne, who in 1851 appointed him school inspector. From that +time he was engaged mainly in educational labors, as inspector and +commissioner, and traveled frequently on the Continent examining foreign +methods. He was also interested controversially in political and +religious questions of the day, and altogether had a sufficient public +life outside of literature. In 1851 he married Frances Lucy, daughter of +Sir William Wightman, a judge of the Court of Queen's Bench, and by her +had five children, three sons and two daughters. + +His first volume of verse, 'The Strayed Reveller and Other Poems,' bears +the date 1849; the second, 'Empedocles on Etna and Other Poems,' 1852; +the third, 'Poems,' made up mainly from the two former, was published in +1853, and thereafter he added little to his poetic work. His first +volume of similar significance in prose was 'Essays in Criticism,' +issued in 1865. Throughout his mature life he was a constant writer, and +his collected works of all kinds now fill eleven volumes, exclusive of +his letters. In 1857 he was elected Professor of Poetry at Oxford, and +there began his career as a lecturer; and this method of public +expression he employed often. His life was thus one with many diverse +activities, and filled with practical or literary affairs; and on no +side was it deficient in human relations. He won respect and reputation +while he lived; and his works continue to attract men's minds, although +with much unevenness. He died at Liverpool, on April 15th, 1888. + +[Illustration: MATTHEW ARNOLD] + +That considerable portion of Arnold's writings which was concerned with +education and politics, or with phases of theological thought and +religious tendency, however valuable in contemporary discussion, and +to men and movements of the third quarter of the century, must be set on +one side. It is not because of anything there contained that he has +become a permanent figure of his time, or is of interest in literature. +He achieved distinction as a critic and as a poet; but although he was +earlier in the field as a poet, he was recognized by the public at large +first as a critic. The union of the two functions is not unusual in the +history of literature; but where success has been attained in both, the +critic has commonly sprung from the poet in the man, and his range and +quality have been limited thereby. It was so with Dryden and Wordsworth, +and, less obviously, with Landor and Lowell. In Arnold's case there is +no such growth: the two modes of writing, prose and verse, were +disconnected. One could read his essays without suspecting a poet, and +his poems without discerning a critic, except so far as one finds the +moralist there. In fact, Arnold's critical faculty belonged rather to +the practical side of his life, and was a part of his talents as a +public man. + +This appears by the very definitions that he gave, and by the turn of +his phrase, which always keeps an audience rather than a meditative +reader in view. "What is the function of criticism at the present time?" +he asks, and answers--"A disinterested endeavor to learn and propagate +the best that is known and thought in the world." That is a wide +warrant. The writer who exercises his critical function under it, +however, is plainly a reformer at heart, and labors for the social +welfare. He is not an analyst of the form of art for its own sake, or a +contemplator of its substance of wisdom or beauty merely. He is not +limited to literature or the other arts of expression, but the +world--the intellectual world--is all before him where to choose; and +having learned the best that is known and thought, his second and +manifestly not inferior duty is to go into all nations, a messenger of +the propaganda of intelligence. It is a great mission, and nobly +characterized; but if criticism be so defined, it is criticism of a +large mold. + +The scope of the word conspicuously appears also in the phrase, which +became proverbial, declaring that literature is "a criticism of life." +In such an employment of terms, ordinary meanings evaporate: and it +becomes necessary to know the thought of the author rather than the +usage of men. Without granting the dictum, therefore, which would be far +from the purpose, is it not clear that by "critic" and "criticism" +Arnold intended to designate, or at least to convey, something peculiar +to his own conception,--not strictly related to literature at all, it +may be, but more closely tied to society in its general mental activity? +In other words, Arnold was a critic of civilization more than of books, +and aimed at illumination by means of ideas. With this goes his +manner,--that habitual air of telling you something which you did not +know before, and doing it for your good,--which stamps him as a preacher +born. Under the mask of the critic is the long English face of the +gospeler; that type whose persistent physiognomy was never absent from +the conventicle of English thought. + +This evangelizing prepossession of Arnold's mind must be recognized in +order to understand alike his attitude of superiority, his stiffly +didactic method, and his success in attracting converts in whom the seed +proved barren. The first impression that his entire work makes is one of +limitation; so strict is this limitation, and it profits him so much, +that it seems the element in which he had his being. On a close survey, +the fewness of his ideas is most surprising, though the fact is somewhat +cloaked by the lucidity of his thought, its logical vigor, and the +manner of its presentation. He takes a text, either some formula of his +own or some adopted phrase that he has made his own, and from that he +starts out only to return to it again and again with ceaseless +iteration. In his illustrations, for example, when he has pilloried some +poor gentleman, otherwise unknown, for the astounded and amused +contemplation of the Anglican monocle, he cannot let him alone. So too +when, with the journalist's nack for nicknames, he divides all England +into three parts, he cannot forget the rhetorical exploit. He never lets +the points he has made fall into oblivion; and hence his work in +general, as a critic, is skeletonized to the memory in watchwords, +formulas, and nicknames, which, taken altogether, make up only a small +number of ideas. + +His scale, likewise, is meagre. His essay is apt to be a book review or +a plea merely; it is without that free illusiveness and undeveloped +suggestion which indicate a full mind and give to such brief pieces of +writing the sense of overflow. He takes no large subject as a whole, but +either a small one or else some phases of the larger one; and he +exhausts all that he touches. He seems to have no more to say. It is +probable that his acquaintance with literature was incommensurate with +his reputation or apparent scope as a writer. As he has fewer ideas than +any other author of his time of the same rank, so he discloses less +knowledge of his own or foreign literatures. His occupations forbade +wide acquisition; he husbanded his time, and economized also by giving +the best direction to his private studies, and he accomplished much; but +he could not master the field as any man whose profession was literature +might easily do. Consequently, in comparison with Coleridge or Lowell, +his critical work seems dry and bare, with neither the fluency nor the +richness of a master. + +In yet another point this paucity of matter appears. What Mr. Richard +Holt Hutton says in his essay on the poetry of Arnold is so apposite +here that it will be best to quote the passage. He is speaking, in an +aside, of Arnold's criticisms:-- + + "They are fine, they are keen, they are often true; but they + are always too much limited to the thin superficial layer of + the moral nature of their subjects, and seem to take little + comparative interest in the deeper individuality beneath. + Read his essay on Heine, and you will see the critic + engrossed with the relation of Heine to the political and + social ideas of his day, and passing over with comparative + indifference the true soul of Heine, the fountain of both his + poetry and his cynicism. Read his five lectures on + translating Homer, and observe how exclusively the critic's + mind is occupied with the form as distinguished from the + substance of the Homeric poetry. Even when he concerns + himself with the greatest modern poets,--with Shakespeare as + in the preface to the earlier edition of his poems, or with + Goethe in reiterated poetical criticisms, or when he again + and again in his poems treats of Wordsworth,--it is always + the style and superficial doctrine of their poetry, not the + individual character and unique genius, which occupy him. He + will tell you whether a poet is 'sane and clear,' or stormy + and fervent; whether he is rapid and noble, or loquacious and + quaint; whether a thinker penetrates the husks of + conventional thought which mislead the crowd; whether there + is sweetness as well as lucidity in his aims; whether a + descriptive writer has 'distinction' of style, or is + admirable only for his vivacity: but he rarely goes to the + individual heart of any of the subjects of his criticism; he + finds their style and class, but not their personality in + that class; he _ranks_ his men, but does not portray them; + hardly even seems to find much interest in the _individual_ + roots of their character." + +In brief, this is to say that Arnold took little interest in human +nature; nor is there anything in his later essays on Byron, Keats, +Wordsworth, Milton, or Gray, to cause us to revise the judgment on this +point. In fact, so far as he touched on the personality of Keats or +Gray, to take the capital instances, he was most unsatisfactory. + +Arnold was not, then, one of those critics who are interested in life +itself, and through the literary work seize on the soul of the author in +its original brightness, or set forth the life-stains in the successive +incarnations of his heart and mind. Nor was he of those who consider the +work itself final, and endeavor simply to understand it,--form and +matter,--and so to mediate between genius and our slower intelligence. +He followed neither the psychological nor the aesthetic method. It need +hardly be said that he was born too early to be able ever to conceive of +literature as a phenomenon of society, and its great men as only terms +in an evolutionary series. He had only a moderate knowledge of +literature, and his stock of ideas was small; his manner of speech was +hard and dry, there was a trick in his style, and his self-repetition +is tiresome. + +What gave him vogue, then, and what still keeps his more literary work +alive? Is it anything more than the temper in which he worked, and the +spirit which he evoked in the reader? He stood for the very spirit of +intelligence in his time. He made his readers respect ideas, and want to +have as many as possible. He enveloped them in an atmosphere of mental +curiosity and alertness, and put them in contact with novel and +attractive themes. In particular, he took their minds to the Continent +and made them feel that they were becoming cosmopolitan by knowing +Joubert; or at home, he rallied them in opposition to the dullness of +the period, to "barbarism" or other objectionable traits in the social +classes: and he volleyed contempt upon the common multitudinous foe in +general, and from time to time cheered them with some delectable +examples of single combat. It cannot be concealed that there was much +malicious pleasure in it all. He was not indisposed to high-bred +cruelty. Like Lamb, he "loved a fool," but it was in a mortar; and +pleasant it was to see the spectacle when he really took a man in hand +for the chastisement of irony. It is thus that "the _seraphim +illuminati_ sneer." And in all his controversial writing there was a +brilliancy and unsparingness that will appeal to the deepest instincts +of a fighting race, willy-nilly; and as one had only to read the words +to feel himself among the children of light, so that our withers were +unwrung, there was high enjoyment. + +This liveliness of intellectual conflict, together with the sense of +ideas, was a boon to youth especially; and the academic air in which the +thought and style always moved, with scholarly self-possession and +assurance, with the dogmatism of "enlightenment" in all ages and among +all sects, with serenity and security unassailable, from within at +least--this academic "clearness and purity without shadow or stain" had +an overpowering charm to the college-bred and cultivated, who found the +rare combination of information, taste, and aggressiveness in one of +their own ilk. Above all, there was the play of intelligence on every +page; there was an application of ideas to life in many regions of the +world's interests; there was contact with a mind keen, clear, and firm, +armed for controversy or persuasion equally, and filled with eager +belief in itself, its ways, and its will. + +To meet such personality in a book was a bracing experience; and for +many these essays were an awakening of the mind itself. We may go to +others for the greater part of what criticism can give,--for definite +and fundamental principles, for adequate characterization, for the +intuition and the revelation, the penetrant flash of thought and phrase: +but Arnold generates and supports a temper of mind in which the work of +these writers best thrives even in its own sphere; and through him this +temper becomes less individual than social, encompassing the whole of +life. Few critics have been really less "disinterested," few have kept +their eyes less steadily "upon the object": but that fact does not +lessen the value of his precepts of disinterestedness and objectivity; +nor is it necessary, in becoming "a child of light," to join in spirit +the unhappy "remnant" of the academy, or to drink too deep of that +honeyed satisfaction, with which he fills his readers, of being on his +side. As a critic, Arnold succeeds if his main purpose does not fail, +and that was to reinforce the party of ideas, of culture, of the +children of light; to impart, not moral vigor, but openness and +reasonableness of mind; and to arouse and arm the intellectual in +contradistinction to the other energies of civilization. + +The poetry of Arnold, to pass to the second portion of his work, was +less widely welcomed than his prose, and made its way very slowly; but +it now seems the most important and permanent part. It is not small in +quantity, though his unproductiveness in later years has made it appear +that he was less fluent and abundant in verse than he really was. The +remarkable thing, as one turns to his poems, is the contrast in spirit +that they afford to the essays: there is here an atmosphere of entire +calm. We seem to be in a different world. This fact, with the singular +silence of his familiar letters in regard to his verse, indicates that +his poetic life was truly a thing apart. + +In one respect only is there something in common between his prose and +verse: just as interest in human nature was absent in the latter, it is +absent also in the former. There is no action in the poems; neither is +there character for its own sake. Arnold was a man of the mind, and he +betrays no interest in personality except for its intellectual traits; +in Clough as in Obermann, it is the life of thought, not the human +being, that he portrays. As a poet, he expresses the moods of the +meditative spirit in view of nature and our mortal existence; and he +represents life, not lyrically by its changeful moments, nor tragically +by its conflict in great characters, but philosophically by a +self-contained and unvarying monologue, deeper or less deep in feeling +and with cadences of tone, but always with the same grave and serious +effect. He is constantly thinking, whatever his subject or his mood; his +attitude is intellectual, his sentiments are maxims, his conclusions are +advisory. His world is the sphere of thought, and his poems have the +distance and repose and also the coldness that befit that sphere; and +the character of his imagination, which lays hold of form and reason, +makes natural to him the classical style. + +It is obvious that the sources of his poetical culture are Greek. It is +not merely, however, that he takes for his early subjects Merope and +Empedocles, or that he strives in 'Balder Dead' for Homeric narrative, +or that in the recitative to which he was addicted he evoked an +immelodious phantom of Greek choruses; nor is it the "marmoreal air" +that chills while it ennobles much of his finest work. One feels the +Greek quality not as a source but as a presence. In Tennyson, Keats, and +Shelley, there was Greek influence, but in them the result was modern. +In Arnold the antiquity remains; remains in mood, just as in Landor it +remains in form. The Greek twilight broods over all his poetry. It is +pagan in philosophic spirit; not Attic, but of a later and stoical time, +with the very virtues of patience, endurance, suffering, not in their +Christian types, but as they now seem to a post-Christian imagination +looking back to the imperial past. There is a difference, it is true, in +Arnold's expression of the mood: he is as little Sophoclean as he is +Homeric, as little Lucretian as he is Vergilian. The temperament is not +the same, not a survival or a revival of the antique, but original and +living. And yet the mood of the verse is felt at once to be a +reincarnation of the deathless spirit of Hellas, that in other ages also +has made beautiful and solemn for a time the shadowed places of the +Christian world. If one does not realize this, he must miss the secret +of the tranquillity, the chill, the grave austerity, as well as the +philosophical resignation, which are essential to the verse. Even in +those parts of the poems which use romantic motives, one reason of their +original charm is that they suggest how the Greek imagination would have +dealt with the forsaken merman, the church of Brou, and Tristram and +Iseult. The presence of such motives, such mythology, and such Christian +and chivalric color in the work of Arnold does not disturb the simple +unity of its feeling, which finds no solvent for life, whatever its +accident of time and place and faith, except in that Greek spirit which +ruled in thoughtful men before the triumph of Christianity, and is still +native in men who accept the intellect as the sole guide of life. + +It was with reference to these modern men and the movement they took +part in, that he made his serious claim to greatness; to rank, that is, +with Tennyson and Browning, as he said, in the literature of his time. +"My poems," he wrote, "represent on the whole the main movement of mind +of the last quarter of a century; and thus they will probably have their +day as people become conscious to themselves of what that movement of +mind is, and interested in the literary productions that reflect it. It +might be fairly urged that I have less poetical sentiment than Tennyson, +and less intellectual vigor and abundance than Browning; yet because I +have, perhaps, more of a fusion of the two than either of them, and have +more regularly applied that fusion to the main line of modern +development, I am likely enough to have my turn, as they have had +theirs." If the main movement had been such as he thought of it, or if +it had been of importance in the long run, there might be a sounder +basis for this hope than now appears to be the case; but there can be no +doubt, let the contemporary movement have been what it may, that +Arnold's mood is one that will not pass out of men's hearts to-day nor +to-morrow. + +On the modern side the example of Wordsworth was most formative, and in +fact it is common to describe Arnold as a Wordsworthian: and so, in his +contemplative attitude to nature, and in his habitual recourse to her, +he was; but both nature herself as she appeared to him, and his mood in +her presence, were very different from Wordsworth's conception and +emotion. Arnold finds in nature a refuge from life, an anodyne, an +escape; but Wordsworth, in going into the hills for poetical communion, +passed from a less to a fuller and deeper life, and obtained an +inspiration, and was seeking the goal of all his being. In the method of +approach, too, as well as in the character of the experience, there was +a profound difference between the two poets. Arnold sees with the +outward rather than the inward eye. He is pictorial in a way that +Wordsworth seldom is; he uses detail much more, and gives a group or a +scene with the externality of a painter. The method resembles that of +Tennyson rather than that of Wordsworth, and has more direct analogy +with the Greek manner than with the modern and emotional schools; it is +objective, often minute, and always carefully composed, in the artistic +sense of that term. The description of the river Oxus, for example, +though faintly charged with suggested and allegoric meaning, is a noble +close to the poem which ends in it. The scale is large, and Arnold was +fond of a broad landscape, of mountains, and prospects over the land; +but one cannot fancy Wordsworth writing it. So too, on a small scale, +the charming scene of the English garden in 'Thyrsis' is far from +Wordsworth's manner:-- + + "When garden walks and all the grassy floor + With blossoms red and white of fallen May + And chestnut-flowers are strewn-- + So have I heard the cuckoo's parting cry, + From the wet field, through the vext garden trees, + Come with the volleying rain and tossing breeze." + +This is a picture that could be framed: how different from Wordsworth's +"wandering voice"! Or to take another notable example, which, like the +Oxus passage, is a fine close in the 'Tristram and Iseult,'--the hunter +on the arras above the dead lovers:-- + + "A stately huntsman, clad in green, + And round him a fresh forest scene. + On that clear forest-knoll he stays, + With his pack round him, and delays. + + * * * * * + + The wild boar rustles in his lair, + The fierce hounds snuff the tainted air, + But lord and hounds keep rooted there. + Cheer, cheer thy dogs into the brake, + O hunter! and without a fear + Thy golden tasseled bugle blow" + +But no one is deceived, and the hunter does not move from the arras, but +is still "rooted there," with his green suit and his golden tassel. The +piece is pictorial, and highly wrought for pictorial effects only, +obviously decorative and used as stage scenery precisely in the manner +of our later theatrical art, with that accent of forethought which turns +the beautiful into the aesthetic. This is a method which Wordsworth +never used. Take one of his pictures, the 'Reaper' for example, and see +the difference. The one is out-of-doors, the other is of the studio. The +purpose of these illustrations is to show that Arnold's nature-pictures +are not only consciously artistic, with an arrangement that approaches +artifice, but that he is interested through his eye primarily and not +through his emotions. It is characteristic of his temperament also that +he reminds one most often of the painter in water-colors. + +If there is this difference between Arnold and Wordsworth in method, a +greater difference in spirit is to be anticipated. It is a fixed gulf. +In nature Wordsworth found the one spirit's "plastic stress," and a near +and intimate revelation to the soul of truths that were his greatest joy +and support in existence. Arnold finds there no inhabitancy of God, no +such streaming forth of wisdom and beauty from the fountain heads of +being; but the secret frame of nature is filled only with the darkness, +the melancholy, the waiting endurance that is projected from himself:-- + + "Yet, Fausta, the mute turf we tread, + The solemn hills about us spread, + The stream that falls incessantly, + The strange-scrawled rocks, the lonely sky, + If I might lend their life a voice, + Seem to bear rather than rejoice." + +Compare this with Wordsworth's 'Stanzas on Peele Castle,' and the +important reservations that must be borne in mind in describing Arnold +as a Wordsworthian will become clearer. It is as a relief from thought, +as a beautiful and half-physical diversion, as a scale of being so vast +and mysterious as to reduce the pettiness of human life to +nothingness,--it is in these ways that nature has value in Arnold's +verse. Such a poet may describe natural scenes well, and obtain by means +of them contrast to human conditions, and decorative beauty; but he does +not penetrate nature or interpret what her significance is in the human +spirit, as the more emotional poets have done. He ends in an antithesis, +not in a synthesis, and both nature and man lose by the divorce. One +looks in vain for anything deeper than landscapes in Arnold's treatment +of nature; she is emptied of her own infinite, and has become +spiritually void: and in the simple great line in which he gave +the sea-- + + "The unplumbed, salt, estranging sea--" + +he is thinking of man, not of the ocean: and the mood seems ancient +rather than modern, the feeling of a Greek, just as the sound of the +waves to him is always Aegean. + +In treating of man's life, which must be the main thing in any poet's +work, Arnold is either very austere or very pessimistic. If the feeling +is moral, the predominant impression is of austerity; if it is +intellectual, the predominant impression is of sadness. He was not +insensible to the charm of life, but he feels it in his senses only to +deny it in his mind. The illustrative passage is from 'Dover Beach':-- + + "Ah, love, let us be true + To one another! for the world which seems + To lie before us like a land of dreams, + So various, so beautiful, so new, + Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, + Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain." + +This is the contradiction of sense and thought, the voice of a regret +grounded in the intellect (for if it were vital and grounded in the +emotions it would become despair); the creed of illusion and futility in +life, which is the characteristic note of Arnold, and the reason of his +acceptance by many minds. The one thing about life which he most insists +on is its isolation, its individuality. In the series called +'Switzerland,' this is the substance of the whole; and the doctrine is +stated with an intensity and power, with an amplitude and prolongation, +that set these poems apart as the most remarkable of all his lyrics. +From a poet so deeply impressed with this aspect of existence, and +unable to find its remedy or its counterpart in the harmony of life, no +joyful or hopeful word can be expected, and none is found. The second +thing about life which he dwells on is its futility; though he bids one +strive and work, and points to the example of the strong whom he has +known, yet one feels that his voice rings more true when he writes of +Obermann than in any other of the elegiac poems. In such verse as the +'Summer Night,' again, the genuineness of the mood is indubitable. In +'The Sick King of Bokhara,' the one dramatic expression of his genius, +futility is the very centre of the action. The fact that so much of his +poetry seems to take its motive from the subsidence of Christian faith +has set him among the skeptic or agnostic poets, and the "main movement" +which he believed he had expressed was doubtless that in which +agnosticism was a leading element. The unbelief of the third quarter of +the century was certainly a controlling influence over him, and in a man +mainly intellectual by nature it could not well have been otherwise. + +Hence, as one looks at his more philosophical and lyrical poems--the +profounder part of his work--and endeavors to determine their character +and sources alike, it is plain to see that in the old phrase, "the pride +of the intellect" lifts its lonely column over the desolation of every +page. The man of the academy is here, as in the prose, after all. He +reveals himself in the literary motive, the bookish atmosphere of the +verse, in its vocabulary, its elegance of structure, its precise phrase +and its curious allusions (involving footnotes), and in fact, throughout +all its form and structure. So self-conscious is it that it becomes +frankly prosaic at inconvenient times, and is more often on the level of +eloquent and graceful rhetoric than of poetry. It is frequently liquid +and melodious, but there is no burst of native song in it anywhere. It +is the work of a true poet, nevertheless; but there are many voices for +the Muse. It is sincere, it is touched with reality; it is the mirror of +a phase of life in our times, and not in our times only, but whenever +the intellect seeks expression for its sense of the limitation of its +own career, and its sadness in a world which it cannot solve. + +A word should be added concerning the personality of Arnold +which is revealed in his familiar letters,--a collection that has +dignified the records of literature with a singularly noble memory of +private life. Few who did not know Arnold could have been prepared +for the revelation of a nature so true, so amiable, so dutiful. +In every relation of private life he is shown to have been a man of +exceptional constancy and plainness. The letters are mainly home +letters; but a few friendships also yielded up their hoard, and thus +the circle of private life is made complete. Every one must take +delight in the mental association with Arnold in the scenes of his +existence, thus daily exposed, and in his family affections. A nature +warm to its own, kindly to all, cheerful, fond of sport and fun, and +always fed from pure fountains, and with it a character so founded +upon the rock, so humbly serviceable, so continuing in power and +grace, must wake in all the responses of happy appreciation, and +leave the charm of memory. + +He did his duty as naturally as if it required neither resolve, nor +effort, nor thought of any kind for the morrow, and he never failed, +seemingly, in act or word of sympathy, in little or great things; and +when, to this, one adds the clear ether of the intellectual life where +he habitually moved in his own life apart, and the humanity of his +home, the gift that these letters bring may be appreciated. That gift +is the man himself; but set in the atmosphere of home, with son-ship +and fatherhood, sisters and brothers, with the bereavements of +years fully accomplished, and those of babyhood and boyhood,--a +sweet and wholesome English home, with all the cloud and sunshine +of the English world drifting over its roof-tree, and the soil of England +beneath its stones, and English duties for the breath of its being. +To add such a home to the household-rights of English literature is +perhaps something from which Arnold would have shrunk, but it +endears his memory. + +[Illustration: Signature: Geroge E. Woodberry] + + + + +INTELLIGENCE AND GENIUS + +From 'Essays in Criticism' + + +What are the essential characteristics of the spirit of our nation? Not, +certainly, an open and clear mind, not a quick and flexible +intelligence. Our greatest admirers would not claim for us that we have +these in a pre-eminent degree; they might say that we had more of them +than our detractors gave us credit for, but they would not assert them +to be our essential characteristics. They would rather allege, as our +chief spiritual characteristics, energy and honesty; and if we are +judged favorably and positively, not invidiously and negatively, our +chief characteristics are no doubt these: energy and honesty, not an +open and clear mind, not a quick and flexible intelligence. Openness of +mind and flexibility of intelligence were very signal characteristics of +the Athenian people in ancient times; everybody will feel that. Openness +of mind and flexibility of intelligence are remarkable characteristics +of the French people in modern times,--at any rate, they strikingly +characterize them as compared with us; I think everybody, or almost +everybody, will feel that. I will not now ask what more the Athenian or +the French spirit has than this, nor what shortcomings either of them +may have as a set-off against this; all I want now to point out is that +they have this, and that we have it in a much lesser degree. + +Let me remark, however, that not only in the moral sphere, but also in +the intellectual and spiritual sphere, energy and honesty are most +important and fruitful qualities; that for instance, of what we call +genius, energy is the most essential part. So, by assigning to a nation +energy and honesty as its chief spiritual characteristics,--by refusing +to it, as at all eminent characteristics, openness of mind and +flexibility of intelligence,--we do not by any means, as some people +might at first suppose, relegate its importance and its power of +manifesting itself with effect from the intellectual to the moral +sphere. We only indicate its probable special line of successful +activity in the intellectual sphere, and, it is true, certain +imperfections and failings to which in this sphere it will always be +subject. Genius is mainly an affair of energy, and poetry is mainly an +affair of genius; therefore a nation whose spirit is characterized by +energy may well be eminent in poetry;--and we have Shakespeare. Again, +the highest reach of science is, one may say, an inventive power, a +faculty of divination, akin to the highest power exercised in poetry; +therefore a nation whose spirit is characterized by energy may well be +eminent in science;--and we have Newton. Shakespeare and Newton: in the +intellectual sphere there can be no higher names. And what that energy, +which is the life of genius, above everything demands and insists upon, +is freedom; entire independence of all authority, prescription, and +routine,--the fullest room to expand as it will. Therefore a nation +whose chief spiritual characteristic is energy will not be very apt to +set up, in intellectual matters, a fixed standard, an authority, like an +academy. By this it certainly escapes certain real inconveniences and +dangers; and it can at the same time, as we have seen, reach undeniably +splendid heights in poetry and science. + +On the other hand, some of the requisites of intellectual work are +specially the affair of quickness of mind and flexibility of +intelligence. The form, the method of evolution, the precision, the +proportions, the relations of the parts to the whole, in an intellectual +work, depend mainly upon them. And these are the elements of an +intellectual work which are really most communicable from it, which can +most be learned and adopted from it, which have therefore the greatest +effect upon the intellectual performance of others. Even in poetry these +requisites are very important; and the poetry of a nation not eminent +for the gifts on which they depend, will more or less suffer by this +shortcoming. In poetry, however, they are after all secondary, and +energy is the first thing; but in prose they are of first-rate +importance. In its prose literature, therefore, and in the routine of +intellectual work generally, a nation with no particular gifts for these +will not be so successful. These are what, as I have said, can to a +certain degree be learned and appropriated, while the free activity of +genius cannot. Academies consecrate and maintain them, and therefore a +nation with an eminent turn for them naturally establishes academies. So +far as routine and authority tend to embarrass energy and inventive +genius, academies may be said to be obstructive to energy and inventive +genius, and to this extent to the human spirit's general advance. But +then this evil is so much compensated by the propagation, on a large +scale, of the mental aptitudes and demands which an open mind and a +flexible intelligence naturally engender, genius itself in the long run +so greatly finds its account in this propagation, and bodies like the +French Academy have such power for promoting it, that the general +advance of the human spirit is perhaps, on the whole, rather furthered +than impeded by their existence. + +How much greater is our nation in poetry than prose! how much better, in +general, do the productions of its spirit show in the qualities of +genius than in the qualities of intelligence! One may constantly remark +this in the work of individuals: how much more striking, in general, +does any Englishman--of some vigor of mind, but by no means a poet--seem +in his verse than in his prose! His verse partly suffers from his not +being really a poet, partly no doubt from the very same defects which +impair his prose, and he cannot express himself with thorough success in +it, but how much more powerful a personage does he appear in it, by dint +of feeling and of originality and movement of ideas, than when he is +writing prose! With a Frenchman of like stamp, it is just the reverse: +set him to write poetry, he is limited, artificial, and impotent; set +him to write prose, he is free, natural, and effective. The power of +French literature is in its prose writers, the power of English +literature is in its poets. Nay, many of the celebrated French poets +depend wholly for their fame upon the qualities of intelligence which +they exhibit,--qualities which are the distinctive support of prose; +many of the celebrated English prose writers depend wholly for their +fame upon the qualities of genius and imagination which they +exhibit,--qualities which are the distinctive support of poetry. + +But as I have said, the qualities of genius are less transferable than +the qualities of intelligence; less can be immediately learned and +appropriated from their product; they are less direct and stringent +intellectual agencies, though they may be more beautiful and divine. +Shakespeare and our great Elizabethan group were certainly more gifted +writers than Corneille and his group; but what was the sequel to this +great literature, this literature of genius, as we may call it, +stretching from Marlowe to Milton? What did it lead up to in English +literature? To our provincial and second-rate literature of the +eighteenth century. What, on the other hand, was the sequel to the +literature of the French "great century," to this literature of +intelligence, as by comparison with our Elizabethan literature we may +call it; what did it lead up to? To the French literature of the +eighteenth century, one of the most powerful and pervasive intellectual +agencies that have ever existed,--the greatest European force of the +eighteenth century. In science, again, we had Newton, a genius of the +very highest order, a type of genius in science if ever there was one. +On the continent, as a sort of counterpart to Newton, there was +Leibnitz; a man, it seems to me (though on these matters I speak under +correction), of much less creative energy of genius, much less power of +divination than Newton, but rather a man of admirable intelligence, a +type of intelligence in science if ever there was one. Well, and what +did they each directly lead up to in science? What was the intellectual +generation that sprang from each of them? I only repeat what the men of +science have themselves pointed out. The man of genius was continued by +the English analysts of the eighteenth century, comparatively powerless +and obscure followers of the renowned master. The man of intelligence +was continued by successors like Bernoulli, Euler, Lagrange, and +Laplace, the greatest names in modern mathematics. + + +SWEETNESS AND LIGHT + +From 'Culture and Anarchy' + + +The disparagers of culture make its motive curiosity; sometimes, indeed, +they make its motive mere exclusiveness and vanity. The culture which is +supposed to plume itself on a smattering of Greek and Latin is a culture +which is begotten by nothing so intellectual as curiosity; it is valued +either out of sheer vanity and ignorance, or else as an engine of social +and class distinction, separating its holder, like a badge or title, +from other people who have not got it. No serious man would call this +_culture_, or attach any value to it, as culture, at all. To find the +real ground for the very differing estimate which serious people will +set upon culture, we must find some motive for culture in the terms of +which may lie a real ambiguity; and such a motive the word +_curiosity_ gives us. + +I have before now pointed out that we English do not, like the +foreigners, use this word in a good sense as well as in a bad sense. +With us the word is always used in a somewhat disapproving sense. A +liberal and intelligent eagerness about the things of the mind may be +meant by a foreigner when he speaks of curiosity; but with us the word +always conveys a certain notion of frivolous and unedifying activity. In +the Quarterly Review, some little time ago, was an estimate of the +celebrated French critic, M. Sainte-Beuve; and a very inadequate +estimate it in my judgment was. And its inadequacy consisted chiefly in +this: that in our English way it left out of sight the double sense +really involved in the word _curiosity_, thinking enough was said to +stamp M. Sainte-Beuve with blame if it was said that he was impelled in +his operations as a critic by curiosity, and omitting either to perceive +that M. Sainte-Beuve himself, and many other people with him, would +consider that this was praiseworthy and not blameworthy, or to point out +why it ought really to be accounted worthy of blame and not of praise. +For as there is a curiosity about intellectual matters which is futile, +and merely a disease, so there is certainly a curiosity--a desire after +the things of the mind simply for their own sakes and for the pleasure +of seeing them as they are--which is, in an intelligent being, natural +and laudable. Nay, and the very desire to see things as they are implies +a balance and regulation of mind which is not often attained without +fruitful effort, and which is the very opposite of the blind and +diseased impulse of mind which is what we mean to blame when we blame +curiosity. Montesquieu says:--"The first motive which ought to impel us +to study is the desire to augment the excellence of our nature, and to +render an intelligent being yet more intelligent." This is the true +ground to assign for the genuine scientific passion, however manifested, +and for culture, viewed simply as a fruit of this passion; and it is a +worthy ground, even though we let the term _curiosity_ stand to +describe it. + +But there is of culture another view, in which not solely the scientific +passion, the sheer desire to see things as they are, natural and proper +in an intelligent being, appears as the ground of it. There is a view in +which all the love of our neighbor, the impulses toward action, help, +and beneficence, the desire for removing human error, clearing human +confusion, and diminishing human misery, the noble aspiration to leave +the world better and happier than we found it,--motives eminently such +as are called social,--come in as part of the grounds of culture, and +the main and pre-eminent part. Culture is then properly described not as +having its origin in curiosity, but as having its origin in the love of +perfection; it is _a study of perfection_. It moves by the force, not +merely or primarily of the scientific passion for pure knowledge, but +also of the moral and social passion for doing good. As in the first +view of it we took for its worthy motto Montesquieu's words, "To render +an intelligent being yet more intelligent!" so in the second view of it +there is no better motto which it can have than these words of Bishop +Wilson: "To make reason and the will of God prevail." + +Only, whereas the passion for doing good is apt to be over-hasty in +determining what reason and the will of God say, because its turn is for +acting rather than thinking, and it wants to be beginning to act; and +whereas it is apt to take its own conceptions, which proceed from its +own state of development and share in all the imperfections and +immaturities of this, for a basis of action: what distinguishes culture +is, that it is possessed by the scientific passion as well as by the +passion of doing good; that it demands worthy notions of reason and the +will of God, and does not readily suffer its own crude conceptions to +substitute themselves for them. And knowing that no action or +institution can be salutary and stable which is not based on reason and +the will of God, it is not so bent on acting and instituting, even with +the great aim of diminishing human error and misery ever before its +thoughts, but that it can remember that acting and instituting are of +little use, unless we know how and what we ought to act and to +institute.... + +The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light. +He who works for sweetness and light, works to make reason and the will +of God prevail. He who works for machinery, he who works for hatred, +works only for confusion. Culture looks beyond machinery, culture hates +hatred; culture has one great passion, the passion for sweetness and +light. It has one even yet greater!--the passion for making them +_prevail._ It is not satisfied till we _all_ come to a perfect man; it +knows that the sweetness and light of the few must be imperfect until +the raw and unkindled masses of humanity are touched with sweetness and +light. If I have not shrunk from saying that we must work for sweetness +and light, so neither have I shrunk from saying that we must have a +broad basis, must have sweetness and light for as many as possible. +Again and again I have insisted how those are the happy moments of +humanity, how those are the marking epochs of a people's life, how those +are the flowering times for literature and art and all the creative +power of genius, when there is a _national_ glow of life and thought, +when the whole of society is in the fullest measure permeated by +thought, sensible to beauty, intelligent and alive. Only it must be +_real_ thought and _real_ beauty; _real_ sweetness and _real_ light. +Plenty of people will try to give the masses, as they call them, an +intellectual food prepared and adapted in the way they think proper for +the actual condition of the masses. The ordinary popular literature is +an example of this way of working on the masses. Plenty of people will +try to indoctrinate the masses with the set of ideas and judgments +constituting the creed of their own profession or party. Our religious +and political organizations give an example of this way of working on +the masses. I condemn neither way; but culture works differently. It +does not try to teach down to the level of inferior classes; it does not +try to win them for this or that sect of its own, with ready-made +judgments and watchwords. It seeks to do away with classes; to make the +best that has been thought and known in the world current everywhere; to +make all men live in an atmosphere of sweetness and light, where they +may use ideas, as it uses them itself, freely,--nourished and not +bound by them. + +This is the _social idea_; and the men of culture are the true apostles +of equality. The great men of culture are those who have had a passion +for diffusing, for making prevail, for carrying from one end of society +to the other, the best knowledge, the best ideas of their time; who have +labored to divest knowledge of all that was harsh, uncouth, difficult, +abstract, professional, exclusive; to humanize it, to make it efficient +outside the clique of the cultivated and learned, yet still remaining +the _best_ knowledge and thought of the time, and a true source, +therefore, of sweetness and light. Such a man was Abélard in the Middle +Ages, in spite of all his imperfections; and thence the boundless +emotion and enthusiasm which Abélard excited. Such were Lessing and +Herder in Germany, at the end of the last century; and their services to +Germany were in this way inestimably precious. Generations will pass, +and literary monuments will accumulate, and works far more perfect than +the works of Lessing and Herder will be produced in Germany; and yet the +names of these two men will fill a German with a reverence and +enthusiasm such as the names of the most gifted masters will hardly +awaken. And why? Because they _humanized_ knowledge; because they +broadened the basis of life and intelligence; because they worked +powerfully to diffuse sweetness and light, to make reason and the will +of God prevail. With Saint Augustine they said:--"Let us not leave thee +alone to make in the secret of thy knowledge, as thou didst before the +creation of the firmament, the division of light from darkness; let the +children of thy spirit, placed in their firmament, make their light +shine upon the earth, mark the division of night and day, and announce +the revolution of the times; for the old order is passed, and the new +arises; the night is spent, the day is come forth; and thou shalt crown +the year with thy blessing, when thou shalt send forth laborers into thy +harvest sown by other hands than theirs; when thou shalt send forth new +laborers to new seed-times, whereof the harvest shall be not yet." + +Keeping this in view, I have in my own mind often indulged myself with +the fancy of employing, in order to designate our aristocratic class, +the name of _The Barbarians_. The Barbarians, to whom we all owe so +much, and who reinvigorated and renewed our worn-out Europe, had, as is +well known, eminent merits; and in this country, where we are for the +most part sprung from the Barbarians, we have never had the prejudice +against them which prevails among the races of Latin origin. The +Barbarians brought with them that stanch individualism, as the modern +phrase is, and that passion for doing as one likes, for the assertion of +personal liberty, which appears to Mr. Bright the central idea of +English life, and of which we have at any rate a very rich supply. The +stronghold and natural seat of this passion was in the nobles of whom +our aristocratic class are the inheritors; and this class, accordingly, +have signally manifested it, and have done much by their example to +recommend it to the body of the nation, who already, indeed, had it in +their blood. The Barbarians, again, had the passion for field-sports; +and they have handed it on to our aristocratic class, who of this +passion, too, as of the passion for asserting one's personal liberty, +are the great natural stronghold. The care of the Barbarians for the +body, and for all manly exercises; the vigor, good looks, and fine +complexion which they acquired and perpetuated in their families by +these means,--all this may be observed still in our aristocratic class. +The chivalry of the Barbarians, with its characteristics of high spirit, +choice manners, and distinguished bearing,--what is this but the +attractive commencement of the politeness of our aristocratic class? In +some Barbarian noble, no doubt, one would have admired, if one could +have been then alive to see it, the rudiments of our politest peer. +Only, all this culture (to call it by that name) of the Barbarians was +an exterior culture mainly. It consisted principally in outward gifts +and graces, in looks, manners, accomplishments, prowess. The chief +inward gifts which had part in it were the most exterior, so to speak, +of inward gifts, those which come nearest to outward ones; they were +courage, a high spirit, self-confidence. Far within, and unawakened, lay +a whole range of powers of thought and feeling, to which these +interesting productions of nature had, from the circumstances of their +life, no access. Making allowances for the difference of the times, +surely we can observe precisely the same thing now in our aristocratic +class. In general its culture is exterior chiefly; all the exterior +graces and accomplishments, and the more external of the inward virtues, +seem to be principally its portion. It now, of course, cannot but be +often in contact with those studies by which, from the world of thought +and feeling, true culture teaches us to fetch sweetness and light; but +its hold upon these very studies appears remarkably external, and +unable to exert any deep power upon its spirit. Therefore the one +insufficiency which we noted in the perfect mean of this class was an +insufficiency of light. And owing to the same causes, does not a subtle +criticism lead us to make, even on the good looks and politeness of our +aristocratic class, and of even the most fascinating half of that class, +the feminine half, the one qualifying remark, that in these charming +gifts there should perhaps be, for ideal perfection, a shade +more _soul_? + +I often, therefore, when I want to distinguish clearly the aristocratic +class from the Philistines proper, or middle class, name the former, in +my own mind, _The Barbarians_. And when I go through the country, and +see this and that beautiful and imposing seat of theirs crowning the +landscape, "There," I say to myself, "is a great fortified post of the +Barbarians." + + + +OXFORD + +From 'Essays in Criticism' + +No, we are all seekers still! seekers often make mistakes, and I wish +mine to redound to my own discredit only, and not to touch Oxford. +Beautiful city! so venerable, so lovely, so unravaged by the fierce +intellectual life of our century, so serene! + + "There are our young barbarians all at play!" + +And yet, steeped in sentiment as she lies, spreading her gardens to the +moonlight, and whispering from her towers the last enchantments of the +Middle Age, who will deny that Oxford, by her ineffable charm, keeps +ever calling us nearer to the true goal of all of us, to the ideal, to +perfection,--to beauty, in a word, which is only truth seen from another +side?--nearer, perhaps, than all the science of Tübingen. Adorable +dreamer, whose heart has been so romantic! who hast given thyself so +prodigally, given thyself to sides and to heroes not mine, only never to +the Philistines! home of lost causes, and forsaken beliefs, and +unpopular names, and impossible loyalties! what example could ever so +inspire us to keep down the Philistine in ourselves, what teacher could +ever so save us from that bondage to which we are all prone, that +bondage which Goethe, in his incomparable lines on the death of +Schiller, makes it his friend's highest praise (and nobly did Schiller +deserve the praise) to have left miles out of sight behind him: the +bondage of "_was uns alle bandigt, Das Gemeine!_" She will forgive me, +even if I have unwittingly drawn upon her a shot or two aimed at her +unworthy son; for she is generous, and the cause in which I fight is, +after all, hers. Apparitions of a day, what is our puny warfare against +the Philistines, compared with the warfare which this queen of romance +has been waging against them for centuries, and will wage after we +are gone? + + + TO A FRIEND + + Who prop, thou ask'st, in these bad days, my mind?-- + He much, the old man, who, clearest-souled of men, + Saw The Wide Prospect, and the Asian Fen, + And Tmolus hill, and Smyrna bay, though blind. + Much he, whose friendship I not long since won, + That halting slave, who in Nicopolis + Taught Arrian, when Vespasian's brutal son + Cleared Rome of what most shamed him. But he his + My special thanks, whose even-balanced soul, + From first youth tested up to extreme old age, + Business could not make dull, nor passion wild; + Who saw life steadily, and saw it whole; + The mellow glory of the Attic stage, + Singer of sweet Colonus, and its child. + + + YOUTH AND CALM + + 'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here, + And ease from shame, and rest from fear. + There's nothing can dismarble now + The smoothness of that limpid brow. + But is a calm like this, in truth, + The crowning end of life and youth, + And when this boon rewards the dead, + Are all debts paid, has all been said? + And is the heart of youth so light, + Its step so firm, its eye so bright, + Because on its hot brow there blows + A wind of promise and repose + From the far grave, to which it goes; + Because it has the hope to come, + One day, to harbor in the tomb? + Ah no, the bliss youth dreams is one + For daylight, for the cheerful sun, + For feeling nerves and living breath-- + Youth dreams a bliss on this side death. + It dreams a rest, if not more deep, + More grateful than this marble sleep; + It hears a voice within it tell: + _Calms not life's crown, though calm is well._ + 'Tis all perhaps which man acquires, + But 'tis not what our youth desires. + + + ISOLATION + + TO MARGUERITE + + We were apart; yet, day by day, + I bade my heart more constant be. + I bade it keep the world away, + And grow a home for only thee; + Nor feared but thy love likewise grew, + Like mine, each day, more tried, more true. + + The fault was grave! I might have known, + What far too soon, alas! I learned-- + The heart can bind itself alone, + And faith may oft be unreturned. + Self-swayed our feelings ebb and swell-- + Thou lov'st no more;--Farewell! Farewell! + + Farewell!--and thou, thou lonely heart, + Which never yet without remorse + Even for a moment didst depart + From thy remote and spherèd course + To haunt the place where passions reign-- + Back to thy solitude again! + + Back! with the conscious thrill of shame + Which Luna felt, that summer-night, + Flash through her pure immortal frame, + When she forsook the starry height + To hang over Endymion's sleep + Upon the pine-grown Latmian steep. + + Yet she, chaste queen, had never proved + How vain a thing is mortal love, + Wandering in Heaven, far removed; + But thou hast long had place to prove + This truth--to prove, and make thine own: + "Thou hast been, shalt be, art, alone." + + Or, if not quite alone, yet they + Which touch thee are unmating things-- + Ocean and clouds and night and day; + Lorn autumns and triumphant springs; + And life, and others' joy and pain, + And love, if love, of happier men. + + Of happier men--for they, at least, + Have dreamed two human hearts might blend + In one, and were through faith released + From isolation without end + Prolonged; nor knew, although not less + Alone than thou, their loneliness. + + Yes! in the sea of life enisled, + With echoing straits between us thrown, + Dotting the shoreless watery wild, + We mortal millions live alone. + The islands feel the enclasping flow, + And then their endless bounds they know. + + But when the moon their hollow lights, + And they are swept by balms of spring, + And in their glens, on starry nights, + The nightingales divinely sing; + And lovely notes, from shore to shore, + Across the sounds and channels pour-- + + Oh! then a longing like despair + Is to their farthest caverns sent; + For surely once, they feel, we were + Parts of a single continent! + Now round us spreads the watery plain-- + Oh, might our marges meet again! + + Who ordered that their longing's fire + Should be, as soon as kindled, cooled? + Who renders vain their deep desire?-- + A God, a God their severance ruled! + And bade betwixt their shores to be + The unplumbed, salt, estranging sea + + +STANZAS IN MEMORY OF THE AUTHOR OF 'OBERMANN' (1849) + + In front the awful Alpine track + Crawls up its rocky stair; + The autumn storm-winds drive the rack, + Close o'er it, in the air. + + Behind are the abandoned baths + Mute in their meadows lone; + The leaves are on the valley-paths, + The mists are on the Rhone-- + + The white mists rolling like a sea! + I hear the torrents roar. + --Yes, Obermann, all speaks of thee; + I feel thee near once more. + + I turn thy leaves! I feel their breath + Once more upon me roll; + That air of languor, cold, and death, + Which brooded o'er thy soul. + + Fly hence, poor wretch, whoe'er thou art, + Condemned to cast about, + All shipwreck in thy own weak heart, + For comfort from without! + + A fever in these pages burns + Beneath the calm they feign; + A wounded human spirit turns, + Here, on its bed of pain. + + Yes, though the virgin mountain-air + Fresh through these pages blows; + Though to these leaves the glaciers spare + The soul of their mute snows; + + Though here a mountain-murmur swells + Of many a dark-boughed pine; + Though, as you read, you hear the bells + Of the high-pasturing kine-- + + Yet, through the hum of torrent lone, + And brooding mountain-bee, + There sobs I know not what ground-tone + Of human agony. + + Is it for this, because the sound + Is fraught too deep with pain, + That, Obermann! the world around + So little loves thy strain? + + * * * * * + + And then we turn, thou sadder sage, + To thee! we feel thy spell! + --The hopeless tangle of our age, + Thou too hast scanned it well! + + Immovable thou sittest, still + As death, composed to bear! + Thy head is clear, thy feeling chill, + And icy thy despair. + + * * * * * + + He who hath watched, not shared, the strife, + Knows how the day hath gone. + He only lives with the world's life + Who hath renounced his own. + + To thee we come, then! Clouds are rolled + Where thou, O seer! art set; + Thy realm of thought is drear and cold-- + The world is colder yet! + + And thou hast pleasures, too, to share + With those who come to thee-- + Balms floating on thy mountain-air, + And healing sights to see. + + How often, where the slopes are green + On Jaman, hast thou sate + By some high chalet-door, and seen + The summer-day grow late; + + And darkness steal o'er the wet grass + With the pale crocus starr'd, + And reach that glimmering sheet of glass + Beneath the piny sward, + + Lake Leman's waters, far below! + And watched the rosy light + Fade from the distant peaks of snow; + And on the air of night + + Heard accents of the eternal tongue + Through the pine branches play-- + Listened and felt thyself grow young! + Listened, and wept--Away! + + Away the dreams that but deceive! + And thou, sad guide, adieu! + I go, fate drives me; but I leave + Half of my life with you. + + We, in some unknown Power's employ, + Move on a rigorous line; + Can neither, when we will, enjoy, + Nor, when we will, resign. + + I in the world must live;--but thou, + Thou melancholy shade! + Wilt not, if thou can'st see me now, + Condemn me, nor upbraid. + + For thou art gone away from earth, + And place with those dost claim, + The Children of the Second Birth, + Whom the world could not tame. + + * * * * * + + Farewell!--Whether thou now liest near + That much-loved inland sea, + The ripples of whose blue waves cheer + Vevey and Meillerie; + + And in that gracious region bland, + Where with clear-rustling wave + The scented pines of Switzerland + Stand dark round thy green grave, + + Between the dusty vineyard-walls + Issuing on that green place, + The early peasant still recalls + The pensive stranger's face, + + And stoops to clear thy moss-grown date + Ere he plods on again;-- + Or whether, by maligner fate, + Among the swarms of men, + + Where between granite terraces + The blue Seine rolls her wave, + The Capital of Pleasures sees + Thy hardly-heard-of grave;-- + + Farewell! Under the sky we part, + In this stern Alpine dell. + O unstrung will! O broken heart! + A last, a last farewell! + + + MEMORIAL VERSES (1850) + + Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, + Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease, + But one such death remained to come; + The last poetic voice is dumb-- + We stand to-day by Wordsworth's tomb. + + When Byron's eyes were shut in death, + We bowed our head and held our breath. + He taught us little; but our soul + Had felt him like the thunder's roll. + With shivering heart the strife we saw + Of passion with eternal law; + And yet with reverential awe + We watched the fount of fiery life + Which served for that Titanic strife. + + When Goethe's death was told, we said,-- + Sunk, then, is Europe's sagest head. + Physician of the iron age, + Goethe has done his pilgrimage. + He took the suffering human race, + He read each wound, each weakness clear; + And struck his finger on the place, + And said: Thou ailest here, and here! + He looked on Europe's dying hour + Of fitful dream and feverish power; + His eye plunged down the weltering strife, + The turmoil of expiring life--He + said, The end is everywhere, + Art still has truth, take refuge there! + And he was happy, if to know + Causes of things, and far below + His feet to see the lurid flow + Of terror, and insane distress, + And headlong fate, be happiness. + + And Wordsworth!--Ah, pale ghosts, rejoice! + For never has such soothing voice + Been to your shadowy world conveyed, + Since erst, at morn, some wandering shade + Heard the clear song of Orpheus come + Through Hades, and the mournful gloom. + Wordsworth has gone from us--and ye, + Ah, may ye feel his voice as we! + He too upon a wintry clime + Had fallen--on this iron time + Of doubts, disputes, distractions, fears. + He found us when the age had bound + Our souls in its benumbing round; + He spoke, and loosed our heart in tears. + He laid us as we lay at birth, + On the cool, flowery lap of earth. + Smiles broke from us and we had ease; + The hills were round us, and the breeze + Went o'er the sunlit fields again; + Our foreheads felt the wind and rain, + Our youth returned; for there was shed + On spirits that had long been dead, + Spirits dried up and closely furled, + The freshness of the early world. + + Ah! since dark days still bring to light + Man's prudence and man's fiery might, + Time may restore us in his course + Goethe's sage mind and Byron's force; + But where will Europe's latter hour + Again find Wordsworth's healing power? + Others will teach us how to dare, + And against fear our breast to steel; + Others will strengthen us to bear-- + But who, ah! who, will make us feel? + The cloud of mortal destiny, + Others will front it fearlessly--But + who, like him, will put it by? + Keep fresh the grass upon his grave, + O Rotha, with thy living wave! + Sing him thy best! for few or none + Hears thy voice right, now he is gone. + + + + THE SICK KING IN BOKHARA + + HUSSEIN + + O most just Vizier, send away + The cloth-merchants, and let them be, + Them and their dues, this day! the King + Is ill at ease, and calls for thee. + + + THE VIZIER + + O merchants, tarry yet a day + Here in Bokhara! but at noon, + To-morrow, come, and ye shall pay + Each fortieth web of cloth to me, + As the law is, and go your way. + + O Hussein, lead me to the King! + Thou teller of sweet tales,--thine own, + Ferdousi's, and the others',--lead! + How is it with my lord? + + + HUSSEIN + + Alone, + Ever since prayer-time, he doth wait, + O Vizier! without lying down, + In the great window of the gate, + Looking into the Registàn, + Where through the sellers' booths the slaves + Are this way bringing the dead man.-- + O Vizier, here is the King's door! + + + THE KING + + O Vizier, I may bury him? + + + THE VIZIER + + O King, thou know'st, I have been sick + These many days, and heard no thing + (For Allah shut my ears and mind), + Not even what thou dost, O King! + Wherefore, that I may counsel thee, + Let Hussein, if thou wilt, make haste + To speak in order what hath chanced. + + + THE KING + + O Vizier, be it as thou say'st! + + + HUSSEIN + + Three days since, at the time of prayer, + A certain Moollah, with his robe + All rent, and dust upon his hair, + Watched my lord's coming forth, and pushed + The golden mace-bearers aside, + And fell at the King's feet, and cried:-- + + "Justice, O King, and on myself! + On this great sinner, who did break + The law, and by the law must die! + Vengeance, O King!" + + But the King spake:-- + "What fool is this, that hurts our ears + With folly? or what drunken slave? + My guards, what, prick him with your spears! + Prick me the fellow from the path!" + + As the King said, so was it done, + And to the mosque my lord passed on. + + But on the morrow when the King + Went forth again, the holy book + Carried before him, as his right, + And through the square his way he took, + + My man comes running, flecked with blood + From yesterday, and falling down + Cries out most earnestly:--"O King, + My lord, O King, do right, I pray! + + "How canst thou, ere thou hear, discern + If I speak folly? but a king, + Whether a thing be great or small, + Like Allah, hears and judges all. + + "Wherefore hear thou! Thou know'st how fierce + In these last days the sun hath burned; + That the green water in the tanks + Is to a putrid puddle turned; + And the canal, that from the stream + Of Samarcand is brought this way, + Wastes, and runs thinner every day. + + "Now I at nightfall had gone forth + Alone, and in a darksome place + Under some mulberry trees I found + A little pool; and in short space + With all the water that was there + I filled my pitcher, and stole home + Unseen; and having drink to spare, + I hid the can behind the door, + And went up on the roof to sleep. + + "But in the night, which was with wind + And burning dust, again I creep + Down, having fever, for a drink. + + "Now meanwhile had my brethren found + The water-pitcher, where it stood + Behind the door upon the ground, + And called my mother; and they all, + As they were thirsty, and the night + Most sultry, drained the pitcher there; + That they sate with it, in my sight, + Their lips still wet, when I came down. + + "Now mark! I, being fevered, sick + (Most unblest also), at that sight + Brake forth, and cursed them--dost thou hear?-- + One was my mother--Now, do right!" + + But my lord mused a space, and said:-- + "Send him away, sirs, and make on! + It is some madman!" the King said. + As the King bade, so was it done. + + The morrow, at the self-same hour, + In the King's path, behold, the man, + Not kneeling, sternly fixed! he stood + Right opposite, and thus began, + + Frowning grim down:--"Thou wicked King, + Most deaf where thou shouldst most give ear! + What, must I howl in the next world, + Because thou wilt not listen here? + + "What, wilt thou pray, and get thee grace, + And all grace shall to me be grudged? + Nay, but I swear, from this thy path + I will not stir till I be judged!" + + Then they who stood about the King + Drew close together and conferred; + Till that the King stood forth and said, + "Before the priests thou shalt be heard." + + But when the Ulemas were met, + And the thing heard, they doubted not; + But sentenced him, as the law is, + To die by stoning on the spot. + + Now the King charged us secretly:-- + "Stoned must he be, the law stands so. + Yet, if he seek to fly, give way; + Hinder him not, but let him go." + + So saying, the King took a stone, + And cast it softly;--but the man, + With a great joy upon his face, + Kneeled down, and cried not, neither ran. + + So they, whose lot it was, cast stones, + That they flew thick and bruised him sore, + But he praised Allah with loud voice, + And remained kneeling as before. + + My lord had covered up his face; + But when one told him, "He is dead," + Turning him quickly to go in,-- + "Bring thou to me his corpse," he said. + + And truly while I speak, O King, + I hear the bearers on the stair; + Wilt thou they straightway bring him in? + --Ho! enter ye who tarry there! + + + THE VIZIER + + O King, in this I praise thee not. + Now must I call thy grief not wise, + Is he thy friend, or of thy blood, + To find such favor in thine eyes? + + Nay, were he thine own mother's son, + Still, thou art king, and the law stands. + It were not meet the balance swerved, + The sword were broken in thy hands. + + But being nothing, as he is, + Why for no cause make sad thy face?-- + Lo, I am old! Three kings, ere thee, + Have I seen reigning in this place. + + But who, through all this length of time, + Could bear the burden of his years, + If he for strangers pained his heart + Not less than those who merit tears? + + Fathers we must have, wife and child, + And grievous is the grief for these; + This pain alone, which must be borne, + Makes the head white, and bows the knees. + + But other loads than this his own + One man is not well made to bear. + Besides, to each are his own friends, + To mourn with him, and show him care. + + Look, this is but one single place, + Though it be great; all the earth round, + If a man bear to have it so, + Things which might vex him shall be found. + + * * * * * + + All these have sorrow, and keep still, + Whilst other men make cheer, and sing, + Wilt thou have pity on all these? + No, nor on this dead dog, O King! + + + THE KING + + O Vizier, thou art old, I young! + Clear in these things I cannot see. + My head is burning, and a heat + Is in my skin which angers me. + + But hear ye this, ye sons of men! + They that bear rule, and are obeyed, + Unto a rule more strong than theirs + Are in their turn obedient made. + + In vain therefore, with wistful eyes + Gazing up hither, the poor man + Who loiters by the high-heaped booths, + Below there in the Registàn, + + Says:--"Happy he, who lodges there! + With silken raiment, store of rice, + And for this drought, all kinds of fruits, + Grape-syrup, squares of colored ice, + + With cherries served in drifts of snow." + In vain hath a king power to build + Houses, arcades, enameled mosques; + And to make orchard-closes, filled + + With curious fruit-trees brought from far; + With cisterns for the winter rain; + And in the desert, spacious inns + In divers places--if that pain + + Is not more lightened, which he feels, + If his will be not satisfied; + And that it be not, from all time + The law is planted, to abide. + + Thou wast a sinner, thou poor man! + Thou wast athirst, and didst not see + That, though we take what we desire, + We must not snatch it eagerly. + + And I have meat and drink at will, + And rooms of treasures, not a few, + But I am sick, nor heed I these; + And what I would, I cannot do. + + Even the great honor which I have, + When I am dead, will soon grow still; + So have I neither joy nor fame-- + But what I can do, that I will. + + I have a fretted brickwork tomb + Upon a hill on the right hand, + Hard by a close of apricots, + Upon the road of Samarcand; + + Thither, O Vizier, will I bear + This man my pity could not save, + And plucking up the marble flags, + There lay his body in my grave. + + Bring water, nard, and linen rolls! + Wash off all blood, set smooth each limb! + Then say:--"He was not wholly vile, + Because a king shall bury him." + + + DOVER BEACH + + The sea is calm to-night. + The tide is full, the moon lies fair + Upon the straits;--on the French coast the light + Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, + Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. + + Come to the window, sweet is the night-air! + Only, from the long line of spray + Where the sea meets the moon-blanched sand, + Listen! you hear the grating roar + Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, + At their return, up the high strand, + Begin and cease, and then again begin, + With tremulous cadence slow, and bring + The eternal note of sadness in. + + Sophocles long ago + Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought + Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow + Of human misery; we + Find also in the sound a thought, + Hearing it by this distant northern sea. + + The sea of faith + Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore + Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled. + But now I only hear + Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, + Retreating, to the breath + Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear + And naked shingles of the world. + + Ah, love, let us be true + To one another! for the world, which seems + To lie before us like a land of dreams, + So various, so beautiful, so new, + Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, + Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; + And we are here as on a darkling plain + Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, + Where ignorant armies clash by night. + + + SELF-DEPENDENCE + + Weary of myself, and sick of asking + What I am, and what I ought to be, + At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me + Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. + + And a look of passionate desire + O'er the sea and to the stars I send: + "Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me, + Calm me, ah, compose me to the end! + + "Ah, once more," I cried, "ye stars, ye waters, + On my heart your mighty charm renew; + Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, + Feel my soul becoming vast like you." + + From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven, + Over the lit sea's unquiet way, + In the rustling night-air came the answer:-- + "Wouldst thou _be_ as these are? _Live_ as they. + + "Unaffrighted by the silence round them, + Undistracted by the sights they see, + These demand not that the things without them + Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. + + "And with joy the stars perform their shining, + And the sea its long moon-silvered roll; + For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting + All the fever of some differing soul. + + "Bounded by themselves, and unregardful + In what state God's other works may be, + In their own tasks all their powers pouring, + These attain the mighty life you see." + + O air-born voice! long since, severely clear, + A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear:-- + "Resolve to be thyself; and know that he + Who finds himself, loses his misery!" + + + STANZAS FROM THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE + + Oh, hide me in your gloom profound, + Ye solemn seats of holy pain! + Take me, cowled forms, and fence me round, + Till I possess my soul again; + Till free my thoughts before me roll, + Not chafed by hourly false control! + + For the world cries your faith is now + But a dead time's exploded dream; + My melancholy, sciolists say, + Is a passed mood, and outworn theme-- + As if the world had ever had + A faith, or sciolists been sad! + + Ah, if it _be_ passed, take away + At least the restlessness, the pain! + Be man henceforth no more a prey + To these out-dated stings again! + The nobleness of grief is gone-- + Ah, leave us not the fret alone! + + But--if you cannot give us ease-- + Last of the race of them who grieve, + Here leave us to die out with these + Last of the people who believe! + Silent, while years engrave the brow; + Silent--the best are silent now. + + Achilles ponders in his tent, + The kings of modern thought are dumb; + Silent they are, though not content, + And wait to see the future come. + They have the grief men had of yore, + But they contend and cry no more. + + Our fathers watered with their tears + This sea of time whereon we sail; + Their voices were in all men's ears + Who passed within their puissant hail. + Still the same ocean round us raves, + But we stand mute and watch the waves. + + For what availed it, all the noise + And outcry of the former men?-- + Say, have their sons achieved more joys, + Say, is life lighter now than then? + The sufferers died, they left their pain-- + The pangs which tortured them remain. + + What helps it now that Byron bore, + With haughty scorn which mocked the smart, + Through Europe to the Ætolian shore + The pageant of his bleeding heart? + That thousands counted every groan, + And Europe made his woe her own? + + What boots it, Shelley! that the breeze + Carried thy lovely wail away, + Musical through Italian trees + Which fringe thy soft blue Spezzian bay? + Inheritors of thy distress, + Have restless hearts one throb the less? + + Or are we easier to have read, + O Obermann! the sad, stern page, + Which tells us how thou hidd'st thy head + From the fierce tempest of thine age + In the lone brakes of Fontainebleau, + Or châlets near the Alpine snow? + + Ye slumber in your silent grave!-- + The world, which for an idle day + Grace to your mood of sadness gave, + Long since hath flung her weeds away. + The eternal trifler breaks your spell; + But we--we learnt your lore too well! + + Years hence, perhaps, may dawn an age, + More fortunate, alas! than we, + Which without hardness will be sage, + And gay without frivolity. + Sons of the world, oh, speed those years; + But while we wait, allow our tears! + + + A SUMMER NIGHT + + In the deserted, moon-blanched street, + How lonely rings the echo of my feet! + Those windows, which I gaze at, frown, + Silent and white, unopening down, + Repellent as the world,--but see, + A break between the housetops shows + The moon! and lost behind her, fading dim + Into the dewy dark obscurity + Down at the far horizon's rim, + Doth a whole tract of heaven disclose! + + And to my mind the thought + Is on a sudden brought + Of a past night, and a far different scene: + Headlands stood out into the moonlit deep + As clearly as at noon; + The spring-tide's brimming flow + Heaved dazzlingly between; + Houses, with long wide sweep, + Girdled the glistening bay; + Behind, through the soft air, + The blue haze-cradled mountains spread away. + That night was far more fair-- + But the same restless pacings to and fro, + And the same vainly throbbing heart was there, + And the same bright, calm moon. + + And the calm moonlight seems to say:-- + Hast thou then still the old unquiet breast, + Which neither deadens into rest, + Nor ever feels the fiery glow + That whirls the spirit from itself away, + But fluctuates to and fro, + Never by passion quite possessed + And never quite benumbed by the world's sway?-- + And I, I know not if to pray + Still to be what I am, or yield, and be + Like all the other men I see. + + For most men in a brazen prison live, + Where, in the sun's hot eye, + With heads bent o'er their toil, they languidly + Their lives to some unmeaning taskwork give, + Dreaming of naught beyond their prison wall. + And as, year after year, + Fresh products of their barren labor fall + From their tired hands, and rest + Never yet comes more near, + Gloom settles slowly down over their breast. + And while they try to stem + The waves of mournful thought by which they are prest, + Death in their prison reaches them, + Unfreed, having seen nothing, still unblest. + + And the rest, a few, + Escape their prison and depart + On the wide ocean of life anew. + There the freed prisoner, where'er his heart + Listeth will sail; + Nor doth he know how there prevail, + Despotic on that sea. + Trade-winds which cross it from eternity: + Awhile he holds some false way, undebarred + By thwarting signs, and braves + The freshening wind and blackening waves. + And then the tempest strikes him; and between + The lightning bursts is seen + Only a driving wreck, + And the pale master on his spar-strewn deck + With anguished face and flying hair + Grasping the rudder hard, + Still bent to make some port he knows not where, + Still standing for some false, impossible shore. + And sterner comes the roar + Of sea and wind, and through the deepening gloom + Fainter and fainter wreck and helmsman loom, + And he too disappears, and comes no more. + + Is there no life, but these alone? + Madman or slave, must man be one? + + Plainness and clearness without shadow of stain! + Clearness divine! + Ye heavens, whose pure dark regions have no sign + Of languor, though so calm, and though so great + Are yet untroubled and unpassionate; + Who, though so noble, share in the world's toil, + And, though so tasked, keep free from dust and soil! + I will not say that your mild deeps retain + A tinge, it may be, of their silent pain + Who have longed deeply once, and longed in vain-- + But I will rather say that you remain + + A world above man's head, to let him see + How boundless might his soul's horizons be, + How vast, yet of what clear transparency! + How it were good to live there, and breathe free; + How fair a lot to fill + Is left to each man still! + + + THE BETTER PART + + Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man, + How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare! + "Christ," some one says, "was human as we are; + No judge eyes us from Heaven, our sin to scan; + We live no more when we have done our span."-- + "Well, then, for Christ," thou answerest, "who can care? + From sin, which Heaven records not, why forbear? + Live we like brutes our life without a plan!" + So answerest thou; but why not rather say, + "Hath man no second life?--Pitch this one high! + Sits there no judge in Heaven our sin to see?-- + More strictly, then, the inward judge obey! + Was Christ a man like us?--Ah! let us try + If we then, too, can be such men as he!" + + + THE LAST WORD + + Creep into thy narrow bed, + Creep, and let no more be said! + Vain thy onset! all stands fast. + Thou thyself must break at last. + + Let the long contention cease! + Geese are swans, and swans are geese. + Let them have it how they will! + Thou art tired; best be still. + + They out-talked thee, hissed thee, tore thee? + Better men fared thus before thee; + Fired their ringing shot and passed, + Hotly charged--and sank at last. + + Charge once more, then, and be dumb! + Let the victors, when they come, + When the forts of folly fall, + Find thy body by the wall! + + + + +THE ARTHURIAN LEGENDS + +(Eighth to Twelfth Centuries) + +BY RICHARD JONES + + +For nearly a thousand years, the Arthurian legends, which lie at the +basis of Tennyson's 'Idylls of the King,' have furnished unlimited +literary material, not to English poets alone, but to the poets of all +Christendom. These Celtic romances, having their birthplace in Brittany +or in Wales, had been growing and changing for some centuries, before +the fanciful 'Historia Britonum' of Geoffrey of Monmouth flushed them +with color and filled them with new life. Through the version of the +good Benedictine they soon became a vehicle for the dissemination of +Christian doctrine. By the year 1200 they were the common property of +Europe, influencing profoundly the literature of the Middle Ages, and +becoming the source of a great stream of poetry that has flowed without +interruption down to our own day. + +Sixty years after the 'Historia Britonum' appeared, and when the English +poet Layamon wrote his 'Brut' (A.D. 1205), which was a translation of +Wace, as Wace was a translation of Geoffrey, the theme was engrossing +the imagination of Europe. It had absorbed into itself the elements of +other cycles of legend, which had grown up independently; some of these, +in fact, having been at one time of much greater prominence. Finally, so +vast and so complicated did the body of Arthurian legend become, that +summaries of the essential features were attempted. Such a summary was +made in French about 1270, by the Italian Rustighello of Pisa; in +German, about two centuries later, by Ulrich Füterer; and in English by +Sir Thomas Malory in his 'Morte d'Arthur,' finished "the ix. yere of the +reygne of kyng Edward the Fourth," and one of the first books published +in England by Caxton, "emprynted and fynysshed in th'abbey Westmestre +the last day of July, the yere of our Lord MCCCCLXXXV." It is of +interest to note, as an indication of the popularity of the Arthurian +legends, that Caxton printed the 'Morte d'Arthur' eight years before he +printed any portion of the English Bible, and fifty-three years before +the complete English Bible was in print. He printed the 'Morte d'Arthur' +in response to a general "demaund"; for "many noble and dyvers gentylmen +of thys royame of England camen and demaunded me many and oftymes +wherefore that I have not do make and enprynte the noble hystorye of the +saynt greal, and of the moost renomed crysten kyng, fyrst and chyef of +the thre best crysten and worthy, kyng Arthur, whyche ought moost to be +remembred emonge us Englysshe men tofore al other crysten kynges." + +Nor did poetic treatment of the theme then cease. Dante, in the 'Divine +Comedy,' speaks by name of Arthur, Guinevere, Tristan, and Launcelot. In +that touching interview in the second cycle of the Inferno between the +poet and Francesca da Rimini, which Carlyle has called "a thing woven +out of rainbows on a ground of eternal black," Francesca replies to +Dante, who was bent to know the primal root whence her love for Paolo +gat being:-- + + "One day + For our delight, we read of Launcelot, + How him love thralled. Alone we were, and no + Suspicion near us. Oft-times by that reading + Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue + Fled from our altered cheek. But at one point + Alone we fell. When of that smile we read, + The wished smile, rapturously kissed + By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er + From me shall separate, at once my lips + All trembling kissed. The book and writer both + Were love's purveyors. In its leaves that day + We read no more." + +This poetic material was appropriated also by the countrymen of Dante, +Boiardo, Ariosto, and Tasso, by Hans Sachs in Germany, by Spenser, +Shakespeare, and Milton in England. As Sir Walter Scott has sung:-- + + "The mightiest chiefs of British song + Scorned not such legends to prolong." + +Roger Ascham, it is true, has, in his 'Scholemaster' (1570 A.D.), broken +a lance against this body of fiction. "In our forefathers' tyme," wrote +he, "whan Papistrie, as a standyng poole, couered and ouerflowed all +England, fewe bookes were read in our tong, sauyng certaine bookes of +Cheualrie, as they sayd, for pastime and pleasure, which, as some say, +were made in Monasteries, by idle Monkes, or wanton Chanons; as one for +example, 'Morte Arthure': the whole pleasure of which booke standeth in +two speciall poyntes, in open mans slaughter, and bold bawdrye: in which +booke those be counted the noblest Knights, that do kill most men +without any quarrell, and commit foulest aduoulteries by +sutlest shiftes." + +But Roger's characterization of "the whole pleasure of which booke" was +not just, nor did it destroy interest in the theme. "The generall end of +all the booke," said Spenser of the 'Faerie Queene,' "is to fashion a +gentleman or noble person in vertuous and gentle discipline;" and for +this purpose he therefore "chose the historye of King Arthure, as most +fitte for the excellency of his person, being made famous by many men's +former workes, and also furthest from the daunger of envie, and +suspition of present tyme." + +The plots for Shakespeare's 'King Lear' and 'Cymbeline' came from +Geoffrey's 'Historia Britonum,' as did also the story of 'Gorboduc,' the +first tragedy in the English language. Milton intended at one time that +the subject of the great poem for which he was "pluming his wings" +should be King Arthur, as may be seen, in his 'Mansus' and 'Epitaphium +Damonis.' Indeed, he did touch the lyre upon this theme,--lightly, it is +true, but firmly enough to justify Swinburne's lines:-- + + "Yet Milton's sacred feet have lingered there, + His lips have made august the fabulous air, + His hands have touched and left the wild weeds fair." + +But his duties as Latin Secretary to the Commonwealth diverted him from +poetry for many years, and when the Restoration gave him leisure once +more to court the Muse, he had come to doubt the existence of the Celtic +hero-king; for in 'Paradise Lost' (Book i., line 579) he refers to + + "what resounds + In fable or romance of Uther's son;" + +and in his 'History of Britain' (1670 A.D.) he says explicitly:--"For +who Arthur was, and whether ever any such reign'd in Britan, hath bin +doubted heertofore, and may again with good reason." + +Dryden, who composed the words of an opera on King Arthur, meditated, +according to Sir Walter Scott, a larger treatment of the theme:-- + + "And Dryden in immortal strain + Had raised the Table Round again, + But that a ribald King and Court + Bade him toil on to make them sport." + +Sir Walter himself edited the old metrical romance of 'Sir Tristram,' +and where the manuscript was defective, composed a portion after the +manner of the original, the portion in which occur the lines, + + "Mi schip do thou take, + With godes that bethe new; + Two seyles do thou make, + Beth different in hewe: + + * * * * * + + "Ysoude of Britanye, + With the white honde, + The schip she can se, + Seyling to londe; + The white seyl tho marked sche. + + * * * * * + + "Fairer ladye ere + Did Britannye never spye, + Swiche murning chere, + Making on heighe; + On Tristremes bere, + Doun con she lye; + Rise ogayn did sche nere, + But thare con sche dye + For woe; + Swiche lovers als thei + Never schal be moe." + +Of the poets of the present generation, Tennyson has treated the +Arthurian poetic heritage as a whole. Phases of the Arthurian theme have +been presented also by his contemporaries and successors at home and +abroad,--by William Wordsworth, Lord Lytton, Robert Stephen Hawker, +Matthew Arnold, William Morris, Algernon Charles Swinburne, in England; +Edgar Quinet in France; Wilhelm Hertz, L. Schneegans, F. Roeber, in +Germany; Richard Hovey in America. There have been many other approved +variations on Arthurian themes, such as James Russell Lowell's 'Vision +of Sir Launfal,' and Richard Wagner's operas, 'Lohengrin,' 'Tristan and +Isolde,' and 'Parsifal.' Of still later versions, we may mention the +'King Arthur' of J. Comyns Carr, which has been presented on the stage +by Sir Henry Irving; and 'Under King Constantine,' by Katrina Trask, +whose hero is the king whom tradition names as the successor of the +heroic Arthur, "Imperator, Dux Bellorum." + +This poetic material is manifestly a living force in the literature of +the present day. And we may well remind ourselves of the rule which +should govern our verdict in regard to the new treatments of the theme +as they appear. This century-old 'Dichterstoff,' this poetic +treasure-store through which speaks the voice of the race, this great +body of accumulated poetic material, is a heritage; and it is evident +that whoever attempts any phase of this theme may not treat such +subject-matter capriciously, nor otherwise than in harmony with its +inherent nature and spirit. It is recognized that the stuff whereof +great poetry is made is not the arbitrary creation of the poet, and +cannot be manufactured to order. "Genuine poetic material," it has been +said, "is handed down in the imagination of man from generation to +generation, changing its spirit according to the spirit of each age, +and reaching its full development only when in the course of time the +favorable conditions coincide." Inasmuch as the subject-matter of the +Arthurian legends is not the creation of a single poet, nor even of many +poets, but is in fact the creation of the people,--indeed, of many +peoples widely separated in time and space, and is thus in a sense the +voice of the race,--it resembles in this respect the Faust legends, +which are the basis of Goethe's world-poem; or the mediæval visions of a +future state, which found their supreme and final expression in Dante's +'Divina Commedia,' which sums up within itself the art, the religion, +the politics, the philosophy, and the view of life of the Middle Ages. + +Whether the Arthurian legends as a whole have found their final and +adequate expression in Tennyson's 'Idylls of the King,' or whether it +was already too late, when the Laureate wrote, to create from primitive +ideas so simple a poem of the first rank, is not within the province of +this essay to discuss. But manifestly, any final judgment in regard to +the treatment of this theme as a whole, or any phase of the theme, is +inadequate which leaves out of consideration the history of the +subject-matter, and its treatment by other poets; which, in short, +ignores its possibilities and its significance. With respect to the +origin and the early history of the Arthurian legend, much remains to be +established. Whether its original home was in Wales, or among the +neighboring Celts across the sea in Brittany, whither many of the Celts +of Britain fled after the Anglo-Saxon invasion of their island home, no +one knows. But to some extent, at least, the legend was common to both +sides of the Channel when Geoffrey wrote his book, about 1145. As a +matter of course, this King Arthur, the ideal hero of later ages, was a +less commanding personage in the early forms of the legend than when it +had acquired its splendid distinction by borrowing and assimilating +other mythical tales. + +It appears that five great cycles of legend,--(1) the Arthur, Guinevere, +and Merlin cycle, (2) the Round Table cycle, (3) the Holy Grail cycle, +(4) the Launcelot cycle, (5) the Tristan cycle,--which at first +developed independently, were, in the latter half of the twelfth +century, merged together into a body of legend whose bond of unity was +the idealized Celtic hero, King Arthur. + + +_LANCELOT BIDS ADIEU TO ELAINE_. +Photogravure from Drawing by Gustave Doré. + +[Illustration] + +This blameless knight, whose transfigured memory has been thus +transmitted to us, was probably a leader of the Celtic tribes of England +in their struggles with the Saxon invaders. His victory at Mount Badon, +described by Sir Launcelot to the household at Astolat,-- + + "Dull days were those, till our good Arthur broke + The pagan yet once more on Badon Hill,"-- + +this victory is mentioned by Gildas, who wrote in the sixth +century. Gildas, however, though he mentions the occasion, does not give +the name of the leader. But Nennius, who wrote in the latter part of the +eighth century, or early in the ninth, makes Arthur the chieftain, and +adds an account of his great personal prowess. Thus the Arthur legend +has already begun to grow. For the desperate struggle with the Saxons +was vain. As the highly gifted, imaginative Celt saw his people +overwhelmed by the kinsmen of the conquerors of Rome, he found solace in +song for the hard facts of life. In the fields of imagination he won the +victories denied him on the field of battle, and he clustered these +triumphs against the enemies of his race about the name and the person +of the magnanimous Arthur. When the descendants of the Saxons were in +their turn overcome by Norman conquerors, the heart of the Celtic world +was profoundly stirred. Ancient memories awoke, and, yearning for the +restoration of British greatness, men rehearsed the deeds of him who had +been king, and of whom it was prophesied that he should be king +hereafter. At this moment of newly awakened hope, Geoffrey's 'Historia' +appeared. His book was not in reality a history. Possibly it was not +even very largely founded on existing legends. But in any case the +chronicle of Geoffrey was a work of genius and of imagination. "The +figure of Arthur," says Ten Brink, "now stood forth in brilliant light, +a chivalrous king and hero, endowed and guarded by supernatural powers, +surrounded by brave warriors and a splendid court, a man of marvelous +life and a tragic death." + +Geoffrey's book was immediately translated into French by Robert Wace, +who incorporated with the legend of Arthur the Round Table legend. In +his 'Brut,' the English poet-priest Layamon reproduced this feature of +the legend with additional details. His chronicle is largely a free +translation of the 'Brut d'Engleterre' of Wace, earlier known as 'Geste +des Bretons.' Thus as Wace had reproduced Geoffrey with additions and +modifications, Layamon reproduced Wace. So the story grew. In the mean +time, other poets in other lands had taken up the theme, connecting with +it other cycles of legend already in existence. In 1205, when Layamon +wrote his 'Brut,' unnumbered versions of the history of King Arthur, +with which had been woven the legend of the Holy Grail, had already +appeared among the principal nations of Europe. Of the early Arthurian +poets, two of the more illustrious and important are Chrestien de +Troyes, in France, of highest poetic repute, who opened the way for +Tennyson, and Wolfram von Eschenbach, in Germany, with his 'Parzival,' +later the theme of Wagner's greatest opera. The names of Robert de +Borron in France, Walter Map in England, and Heinrich von dem Türlin in +Germany, may also be mentioned. + +In divers lands, innumerable poets with diverse tastes set themselves +to make new versions of the legend. Characteristics of the Arthurian +tale were grafted upon an entirely different stock, as was done by +Boiardo in Italy, making confusion worse confounded to the modern +Arthurian scholar. Boiardo expressly says in the 'Orlando Innamorato' +that his intention is to graft the characteristics of the Arthurian +cycle upon the Carlovingian French national epic stock. He wished to +please the courts, whose ideal was not the paladins, but Arthur's +knights. The "peers" of the Charlemagne legend are thus transformed into +knights-errant, who fight for ladies and for honor. The result of this +interpenetration of the two cycles is a splendid world of love and +_cortesia_, whose constituent elements it defies the Arthurian scholar +to trace. Truly, as Dr. Sommer has said in his erudite edition of +Malory's 'La Morte d'Arthur.' "The origin and relationship to one +another of these branches of romance, whether in prose or in verse, are +involved in great obscurity." He adds that it would almost seem as +though several generations of scholars were required for the gigantic +task of finding a sure pathway through this intricate maze. And M. +Gaston Paris, one of the foremost of living Arthurian scholars, has +written in his 'Romania': "Some time ago I undertook a methodical +exploration in the grand poetical domain which is called the cycle of +the Round Table, the cycle of Arthur, or the Breton cycle. I advance, +groping along, and very often retracing my steps twenty times over, I +become aware that I am lost in a pathless maze." + +There is a question, moreover, whether Geoffrey's book is based mainly +upon inherited poetical material, or is largely the product of +Geoffrey's individual imagination. The elder Paris, M. Paulin Paris, +inclined to the view that Nennius, with hints from local tales, supplied +all the bases that Geoffrey had. But his son, Professor Gaston Paris, in +his 'Littérature Française au Moyen Age,' emphasizes the importance of +the "Celtic" contribution, as does also Mr. Alfred Nutt in his 'Studies +in the Arthurian Legend.' The former view emphasizes the individual +importance of Geoffrey; the latter view places the emphasis on the +legendary heritage. Referring to this so-called national poetry, Ten +Brink says:-- + + "But herein lies the essential difference between that age + and our own: the result of poetical activity was not the + property and not the production of a single person, but of + the community. The work of the individual singer endured only + as long as its delivery lasted. He gained personal + distinction only as a virtuoso. The permanent elements of + what he presented, the material, the ideas, even the style + and metre, already existed. The work of the singer was only a + ripple in the stream of national poetry. Who can say how much + the individual contributed to it, or where in his poetical + recitation memory ceased and creative impulse began! In any + case the work of the individual lived on only as the ideal + possession of the aggregate body of the people, and it soon + lost the stamp of originality." + + +When Geoffrey wrote, this period of national poetry was drawing to a +close; but it was not yet closed. Alfred Nutt, in his 'Studies in the +Legend of the Holy Grail,' speaking of Wolfram von Eschenbach, who wrote +his 'Parzival' about the time that the 'Nibelungenlied' was given its +present form (_i.e.,_ about a half-century after Geoffrey), +says:--"Compared with the unknown poets who gave their present shape to +the 'Nibelungenlied' or to the 'Chanson de Roland,' he is an individual +writer; but he is far from deserving this epithet even in the sense that +Chaucer deserves it." Professor Rhys says, in his 'Studies in the +Arthurian Legend':--"Leaving aside for a while the man Arthur, and +assuming the existence of a god of that name, let us see what could be +made of him. Mythologically speaking, he would probably have to be +regarded as a Culture Hero," etc. + +To summarize this discussion of the difficulties of the theme, there are +now existing, scattered throughout the libraries and the monasteries of +Europe, unnumbered versions of the Arthurian legends. Some of these are +early versions, some are late, and some are intermediate. What is the +relation of all these versions to one another? Which are the oldest, and +which are copies, and of what versions are they copies? What is the land +of their origin, and what is the significance of their symbolism? These +problems, weighty in tracing the growth of mediæval ideals,--_i.e.,_ in +tracing the development of the realities of the present from the ideals +of the past,--are still under investigation by the specialists. The +study of the Arthurian legends is in itself a distinct branch of +learning, which demands the lifelong labors of scholarly devotees. + +There now remains to consider the extraordinary spread of the legend in +the closing decades of the twelfth century and in the century following. +Though Tennyson has worthily celebrated as the morning star of +English song-- + + "Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath + Preluded those melodious bursts that fill + The spacious times of great Elizabeth + With sounds that echo still." + +yet the centuries before Chaucer, far from being barren of literature, +were periods of rich poetical activity both in England and on the +Continent. Eleanor of Aquitaine, formerly Queen of France,--who had +herself gone on a crusade to the Holy Land, and who, on returning, +married in 1152 Henry of Anjou, who became in 1155 Henry II. of +England,--was an ardent patroness of the art of poetry, and personally +aroused the zeal of poets. The famous troubadour Bernard de +Ventadorn--"with whom," says Ten Brink, "the Provençal art-poesy entered +upon the period of its florescence"--followed her to England, and +addressed to her his impassioned verse. Wace, the Norman-French +_trouvere_, dedicated to her his 'Brut.' The ruling classes of England +at this time were truly cosmopolitan, familiar with the poetic material +of many lands. Jusserand, in his 'English Novel in the Time of +Shakespeare,' discussing a poem of the following century written in +French by a Norman monk of Westminster and dedicated to Eleanor of +Provence, wife of Henry III., says:--"Rarely was the like seen in any +literature: here is a poem dedicated to a Frenchwoman by a Norman of +England, which begins with the praise of a Briton, a Saxon, and a Dane." + +But the ruling classes of England were not the only cosmopolitans, nor +the only possessors of fresh poetic material. Throughout Europe in +general, the conditions were favorable for poetic production. The +Crusades had brought home a larger knowledge of the world, and the +stimulus of new experiences. Western princes returned with princesses of +the East as their brides, and these were accompanied by splendid trains, +including minstrels and poets. Thus Europe gathered in new poetic +material, which stimulated and developed the poetical activity of the +age. Furthermore, the Crusades had aroused an intense idealism, which, +as always, demanded and found poetic expression. The dominant idea +pervading the earlier forms of the Charlemagne stories, the unswerving +loyalty due from a vassal to his lord,--that is, the feudal view of +life,--no longer found an echo in the hearts of men. The time was +therefore propitious for the development of a new cycle of legend. + +Though by the middle of the twelfth century the Arthurian legend had +been long in existence, and King Arthur had of late been glorified by +Geoffrey's book, the legend was not yet supreme in popular interest. It +became so through its association, a few years later, with the legend of +the Holy Grail,--the San Graal, the holy vessel which received at the +Cross the blood of Christ, which was now become a symbol of the Divine +Presence. This holy vessel had been brought by Joseph of Arimathea from +Palestine to Britain, but was now, alas, vanished quite from the sight +of man. It was the holy quest for this sacred vessel, to which the +knights of the Round Table now bound themselves,--this "search for the +supernatural," this "struggle for the spiritual," this blending of the +spirit of Christianity with that of chivalry,--which immediately +transformed the Arthurian legend, and gave to its heroes immortality. At +once a new spirit breathes in the old legend. In a few years it is +become a mystical, symbolical, anagogical tale, inculcating one of the +profoundest dogmas of the Holy Catholic Church, a bearer of a Christian +doctrine engrossing the thought of the Christian world. And inasmuch as +the transformed Arthurian legend now taught by implication the doctrine +of the Divine Presence, its spread was in every way furthered by the +great power of the Church, whose spiritual rulers made the minstrel +doubly welcome when celebrating this theme. + +For there was heresy to be combated; viz., the heresy of the scholastic +theologian Berengar of Tours, who had attacked the doctrine of the +transubstantiation of the bread and the wine of the Eucharist into the +body and blood of Christ. Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury, one of the +most brilliant of the Middle Age theologians, felt impelled to reply to +Berengar, who had been his personal friend; and he did so in the 'Liber +Scintillarum,' which was a vigorous, indeed a violent, defense of the +doctrine denied by Berengar. Berengar died in 1088; but he left a +considerable body of followers. The heretics were anathematized by the +Second Lateran Ecumenical Council held in Rome in 1139. Again, in 1215, +the Fourth Lateran Council declared transubstantiation to be an article +of faith, and in 1264 a special holy day, Corpus Christi,--viz., the +first Thursday after Trinity Sunday,--was set apart to give an annual +public manifestation of the belief of the Church in the doctrine of the +Eucharist. + +But when the Fourth Lateran Ecumenical Council met in 1215, the +transformation of the Arthurian legend by means of its association with +the legend of the Holy Grail was already complete, and the transformed +legend, now become a defender of the faith, was engrossing the +imagination of Europe. The subsequent influence of the legend was +doubtless to some extent associated with the discussions which +continually came up anew respecting the meaning of the doctrine of the +Eucharist; for it was not until the Council of Trent (1545-63) that the +doctrine was finally and authoritatively defined. In the mean time there +was interminable discussion respecting the nature of this "real +presence," respecting _tran_substantiation and _con_substantiation and +impanation, respecting the actual presence of the body and blood of +Christ under the _appearance_ of the bread and wine, or the presence of +the body and blood _together with_ the bread and wine. The professor of +philosophy in the University of Oxford, who passes daily through Logic +Lane, has said that there the followers of Duns Scotus and Thomas +Aquinas were wont to come to blows in the eagerness of their discussion +respecting the proper definition of the doctrine. Nor was the doctrine +without interest to the Reformers. Luther and Zwingli held opposing +views, and Calvin was involved in a long dispute concerning the +doctrine, which resulted in the division of the evangelical body into +the two parties of the Lutherans and the Reformed. Doubtless the +connection between the Arthurian legend and the doctrine of the Divine +Presence was not without influence on the unparalleled spread of the +legend in the closing decades of the twelfth century, and on its +prominence in the centuries following. + +A suggestion has already been given of the vast development of the +Arthurian legends during the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth +centuries, and of the importance of the labors of the specialists, who +are endeavoring to fix a date for these versions in order to infer +therefrom the spiritual ideals of the people among whom they arose. To +perceive clearly to what extent ideals do change, it is but necessary to +compare various versions of the same incident as given in various +periods of time. To go no farther back than Malory, for example, we +observe a signal difference between his treatment of the sin of +Guinevere and Launcelot, and the treatment of the theme by Tennyson. +Malory's Arthur is not so much wounded by the treachery of Launcelot, of +whose relations to Guinevere he had long been aware, as he is angered at +Sir Modred for making public those disclosures which made it necessary +for him and Sir Launcelot to "bee at debate." "Ah! Agravaine, +Agravaine," cries the King, "Jesu forgive it thy soule! for thine evill +will that thou and thy brother Sir Modred had unto Sir Launcelot hath +caused all this sorrow.... Wit you well my heart was never so heavie as +it is now, and much more I am sorrier for my good knights losse than for +the losse of my queene, for queenes might I have enough, but such a +fellowship of good knightes shall never bee together in no company." But +to the great Poet Laureate, who voices the modern ideal, a true marriage +is the crown of life. To love one maiden only, to cleave to her and +worship her by years of noblest deeds, to be joined with her and to live +together as one life, and, reigning with one will in all things, to have +power on this dead world to make it live,--this was the high ideal of +the blameless King. + + "Too wholly true to dream untruth in thee." + +And his farewell from her who had not made his life so sweet that he +should greatly care to live,-- + + "Lo! I forgive thee, as Eternal God + Forgives: ... + And so thou lean on our fair father Christ, + Hereafter in that world where all are pure + We two may meet before high God, and thou + Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine,"-- + +this is altogether one of the noblest passages in modern verse. + +A comparison of the various modern treatments of the Tristram theme, as +given by Tennyson, Richard Wagner, F. Roeber, L. Schneegans, Matthew +Arnold, Algernon Charles Swinburne, F. Millard, touching also on the +Tristan of Hans Sachs, and the Tristram who, because he is true to love, +is the darling of the old romances, and is there--notwithstanding that +his love is the wedded wife of another--always represented as the strong +and beautiful knight, the flower of courtesy, a model to youth,--such a +comparison would reveal striking differences between mediæval and +modern ideals. + +In making the comparison, however, care must be exercised to select the +modern treatment of the theme which represents correctly the modern +ideal. The Middle Age romances, sung by wandering minstrels, before the +invention of the printing press, doubtless expressed the ideals of the +age in which they were produced more infallibly than does the possibly +individualistic conception of the modern poet; for, of the earlier forms +of the romance, only those which found general favor were likely to be +preserved and handed down. This inference may be safely made because of +the method of the dissemination of the poems before the art of printing +was known. It is true that copies of them were carried in manuscript +from country to country; but the more important means of dissemination +were the minstrels, who passed from court to court and land to land, +singing the songs which they had made or heard. In that age there was +little thought of literary proprietorship. The poem belonged to him who +could recall it. And as each minstrel felt free to adopt whatever poem +he found or heard that pleased him, so he felt free also to modify the +incidents thereof, guided only by his experience as to what pleased his +hearers. Hence the countless variations in the treatment of the theme, +and the value of the conclusions that may be drawn as to the moral +sentiment of an age, the quality of whose moral judgments is indicated +by the prevailing tone of the songs which persisted because they +pleased. Unconformable variations, which express the view of an +individual rather than the view of a people, may have come down to us in +an accidentally preserved manuscript; but the songs which were sung by +the poets of all lands give expression to the view of life of the age, +and reveal the morals and the ideals of nations, whose history in this +respect may otherwise be lost to us. What some of these ideals were, as +revealed by this rich store of poetic material which grew up about the +chivalrous and spiritual ideals of the Middle Ages, and what the +corresponding modern ideals are,--what, in brief, some of the hitherto +dimly discerned ethical movements of the past seven hundred years have +in reality been, and whither they seem to be tending,--surely, clear +knowledge on these themes is an end worthy the supreme endeavor of +finished scholars, whose training has made them expert in interpreting +the aspirations of each age, and in tracing the evolution of the ideals +of the past into the realities of the present. And though, as M. Gaston +Paris has said, the path of the Arthurian scholar seems at times to be +an inextricable maze, yet the value of the results already achieved, and +the possibility of still greater results, will doubtless prove a +sufficient encouragement to the several generations of scholars which, +as Dr. Sommer suggests, are needed for the gigantic task. + +[Illustration: Signature: Richard Jones] + + + +FROM GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH'S 'HISTORIA BRITONUM' + +ARTHUR SUCCEEDS UTHER, HIS FATHER, IN THE KINGDOM OF BRITAIN, +AND BESIEGES COLGRIN + +Uther Pendragon being dead, the nobility from several provinces +assembled together at Silchester, and proposed to Dubricius, Archbishop +of Legions, that he should consecrate Arthur, Uther's son, to be their +king. For they were now in great straits, because, upon hearing of the +king's death, the Saxons had invited over their countrymen from Germany, +and were attempting, under the command of Colgrin, to exterminate the +whole British race.... Dubricius, therefore, grieving for the calamities +of his country, in conjunction with the other bishops set the crown upon +Arthur's head. Arthur was then only fifteen years old, but a youth of +such unparalleled courage and generosity, joined with that sweetness of +temper and innate goodness, as gained for him universal love. When his +coronation was over, he, according to usual custom, showed his bounty +and munificence to the people. And such a number of soldiers flocked to +him upon it that his treasury was not able to answer that vast expense. +But such a spirit of generosity, joined with valor, can never long want +means to support itself. Arthur, therefore, the better to keep up his +munificence, resolved to make use of his courage, and to fall upon the +Saxons, that he might enrich his followers with their wealth. To this he +was also moved by the justice of the cause, since the entire monarchy of +Britain belonged to him by hereditary right. Hereupon assembling the +youth under his command, he marched to York, of which, when Colgrin had +intelligence, he met with a very great army, composed of Saxons, Scots, +and Picts, by the river Duglas, where a battle happened, with the loss +of the greater part of both armies. Notwithstanding, the victory fell to +Arthur, who pursued Colgrin to York, and there besieged him. + + +DUBRICIUS'S SPEECH AGAINST THE TREACHEROUS SAXONS, OF WHOM +ARTHUR SLAYS MANY IN BATTLE + +When he had done speaking, St. Dubricius, Archbishop of Legions, going +to the top of a hill, cried out with a loud voice, "You that have the +honor to profess the Christian faith, keep fixed in your minds the love +which you owe to your country and fellow subjects, whose sufferings by +the treachery of the Pagans will be an everlasting reproach to you if +you do not courageously defend them. It is your country which you fight +for, and for which you should, when required, voluntarily suffer death; +for that itself is victory and the cure of the soul. For he that shall +die for his brethren, offers himself a living sacrifice to God, and has +Christ for his example, who condescended to lay down his life for his +brethren. If, therefore, any of you shall be killed in this war, that +death itself, which is suffered in so glorious a cause, shall be to him +for penance and absolution of all his sins." At these words, all of +them, encouraged with the benediction of the holy prelate, instantly +armed themselves.... Upon [Arthur's shield] the picture of the blessed +Mary, Mother of God, was painted, in order to put him frequently in mind +of her.... In this manner was a great part of that day also spent; +whereupon Arthur, provoked to see the little advantage he had yet +gained, and that victory still continued in suspense, drew out his +Caliburn [Excalibur, Tennyson], and calling upon the name of the blessed +Virgin, rushed forward with great fury into the thickest of the enemy's +ranks; of whom (such was the merit of his prayers) not one escaped alive +that felt the fury of his sword; neither did he give over the fury of +his assault until he had, with his Caliburn alone, killed four hundred +and seventy men. The Britons, seeing this, followed their leader in +great multitudes, and made slaughter on all sides; so that Colgrin and +Baldulph, his brother, and many thousands more, fell before them. But +Cheldric, in his imminent danger of his men, betook himself to flight. + + +ARTHUR INCREASES HIS DOMINIONS + +After this, having invited over to him all persons whatsoever that were +famous for valor in foreign nations, he began to augment the number of +his domestics, and introduced such politeness into his court as people +of the remotest countries thought worthy of their imitation. So that +there was not a nobleman who thought himself of any consideration unless +his clothes and arms were made in the same fashion as those of Arthur's +knights. At length the fame of his munificence and valor spreading over +the whole world, he became a terror to the kings of other countries, who +grievously feared the loss of their dominions if he should make any +attempt upon them.... Arthur formed a design for the conquest of all +Europe.... At the end of nine years, in which time all the parts of Gaul +were entirely reduced, Arthur returned back to Paris, where he kept his +court, and calling an assembly of the clergy and people, established +peace and the just administration of the laws in that kingdom. Then he +bestowed Neustria, now called Normandy, upon Bedoer, his butler; the +province of Andegavia upon Caius, his sewer; and several other provinces +upon his great men that attended him. Thus, having settled the peace of +the cities and the countries there, he returned back in the beginning of +spring to Britain. + + +ARTHUR HOLDS A SOLEMN FESTIVAL + +Upon the approach of the feast of Pentecost, Arthur, the better to +demonstrate his joy after such triumphant success, and for the more +solemn observation of that festival, and reconciling the minds of the +princes that were now subject to him, resolved, during that season, to +hold a magnificent court, to place the crown upon his head, and to +invite all the kings and dukes under his subjection to the solemnity. +And when he had communicated his design to his familiar friends, he +pitched upon the city of Legions as a proper place for his purpose. For +besides its great wealth above the other cities, its situation, which +was in Glamorganshire, upon the River Uske, near the Severn Sea, was +most pleasant and fit for so great a solemnity; for on one side it was +washed by that noble river, so that the kings and princes from the +countries beyond the seas might have the convenience of sailing up to +it. On the other side, the beauty of the meadows and groves, and +magnificence of the royal palaces, with lofty, gilded roofs that +adorned it, made it even rival the grandeur of Rome. It was also famous +for two churches: whereof one was built in honor of the martyr Julius, +and adorned with a choir of virgins, who had devoted themselves wholly +to the service of God; but the other, which was founded in memory of St. +Aaron, his companion, and maintained a convent of canons, was the third +metropolitan church of Britain. Besides, there was a college of two +hundred philosophers, who, being learned in astronomy and the other +arts, were diligent in observing the courses of the stars, and gave +Arthur true predictions of the events that would happen at that time. In +this place, therefore, which afforded such delights, were preparations +made for the ensuing festival. Ambassadors were sent into several +kingdoms to invite to court the princes both of Gaul and all the +adjacent islands ... who came with such a train of mules, horses, and +rich furniture as it is difficult to describe. Besides these, there +remained no prince of any consideration on this side of Spain, who came +not upon this invitation. And no wonder, when Arthur's munificence, +which was celebrated over the whole world, made him beloved by +all people. + +When all these were assembled together in the city, upon the day of the +solemnity, the archbishops were conducted to the palace, in order to +place the crown upon the king's head. Therefore Dubricius, inasmuch as +the court was kept in his diocese, made himself ready to celebrate the +office, and undertook the ordering of whatever related to it. As soon as +the king was invested with his royal habiliments, he was conducted in +great pomp to the metropolitan church, supported on each side by two +archbishops, and having four kings, viz., of Albania, Cornwall, Demetia, +and Venedotia, whose right it was, bearing four golden swords before +him. He was also attended with a concert of all sorts of music, which +made most excellent harmony. On another part was the queen, dressed out +in her richest ornaments, conducted by the archbishops and bishops to +the Temple of Virgins; the four queens also of the kings last mentioned, +bearing before her four white doves, according to ancient custom; and +after her there followed a retinue of women, making all imaginable +demonstrations of joy. When the whole procession was ended, so +transporting was the harmony of the musical instruments and voices, +whereof there was a vast variety in both churches, that the knights who +attended were in doubt which to prefer, and therefore crowded from the +one to the other by turns, and were far from being tired with the +solemnity, though the whole day had been spent in it. At last, when +divine service was over at both churches, the king and queen put off +their crowns, and putting on their lighter ornaments, went to the +banquet, he to one palace with the men, she to another with the women. +For the Britons still observed the ancient custom of Troy, by which the +men and women used to celebrate their festivals apart. When they had all +taken their seats according to precedence, Caius, the sewer, in rich +robes of ermine, with a thousand young noblemen, all in like manner +clothed with ermine, served up the dishes. From another part, Bedoer, +the butler, was followed with the same number of attendants, in various +habits, who waited with all kinds of cups and drinking vessels. In the +queen's palace were innumerable waiters, dressed with variety of +ornaments, all performing their respective offices; which, if I should +describe particularly, I should draw out the history to a tedious +length. For at that time Britain had arrived at such a pitch of +grandeur, that in abundance of riches, luxury of ornaments, and +politeness of inhabitants, it far surpassed all other kingdoms. The +knights in it that were famous for feats of chivalry wore their clothes +and arms all of the same color and fashion: and the women also, no less +celebrated for their wit, wore all the same kind of apparel; and +esteemed none worthy of their love but such as had given a proof of +their valor in three several battles. Thus was the valor of the men an +encouragement for the women's chastity, and the love of the women a spur +to the soldiers' bravery. + + +AFTER A VARIETY OF SPORTS AT THE CORONATION, ARTHUR AMPLY +REWARDS HIS SERVANTS + +As soon as the banquets were over they went into the fields without the +city to divert themselves with various sports. The military men composed +a kind of diversion in imitation of a fight on horseback; and the +ladies, placed on the top of the walls as spectators, in a sportive +manner darted their amorous glances at the courtiers, the more to +encourage them. Others spent the remainder of the day in other +diversions, such as shooting with bows and arrows, tossing the pike, +casting of heavy stones and rocks, playing at dice and the like, and all +these inoffensively and without quarreling. Whoever gained the victory +in any of these sports was awarded with a rich prize by Arthur. In this +manner were the first three days spent; and on the fourth, all who, upon +account of their titles, bore any kind of office at this solemnity, were +called together to receive honors and preferments in reward of their +services, and to fill up the vacancies in the governments of cities and +castles, archbishoprics, bishoprics, abbeys, and other hosts of honor. + + +ARTHUR COMMITS TO HIS NEPHEW MODRED THE GOVERNMENT OF BRITAIN, +AND ENGAGES IN A WAR WITH ROME + +At the beginning of the following summer, as he was on his march toward +Rome and was beginning to pass the Alps, he had news brought him that +his nephew Modred, to whose care he had intrusted Britain, had, by +tyrannical and treasonable practices, set the crown upon his own head. +[Book xi., Chapters i. and ii.] His [Modred's] whole army, taking Pagans +and Christians together, amounted to eighty thousand men, with the help +of whom he met Arthur just after his landing at the port of Rutupi, and +joining battle with him, made a very great slaughter of his men.... +After they had at last, with much difficulty, got ashore, they paid back +the slaughter, and put Modred and his army to flight. For by long +practice in war they had learned an excellent way of ordering their +forces; which was so managed that while their foot were employed either +in an assault or upon the defensive, the horse would come in at full +speed obliquely, break through the enemy's ranks, and so force them to +flee. Nevertheless, this perjured usurper got his forces together again, +and the night following entered Winchester. As soon as Queen Guanhumara +[Guinevere] heard this, she immediately, despairing of success, fled +from York to the City of Legions, where she resolved to lead a chaste +life among the nuns in the church of Julius the Martyr, and entered +herself one of their order.... + +In the battle that followed thereupon, great numbers lost their lives on +both sides.... In this assault fell the wicked traitor himself, and many +thousands with him. But notwithstanding the loss of him, the rest did +not flee, but running together from all parts of the field, maintained +their ground with undaunted courage. The fight now grew more furious +than ever, and proved fatal to almost all the commanders and their +forces.... And even the renowned King Arthur himself was mortally +wounded; and being carried thence to the isle of Avallon to be cured of +his wounds, he gave up the crown of Britain to his kinsman Constantine, +the son of Cador, Duke of Cornwall, in the five hundred and forty-second +year of our Lord's incarnation. + + +THE HOLY GRAIL + +From Malory's 'Morte d'Arthur' + +"Faire knight," said the King, "what is your name? I require you of your +knighthood to tell me." + +"Sir," said Sir Launcelot, "wit ye well, my name is Sir Launcelot du +Lake." + +"And my name is Sir Pelles, king of the forrain countrey, and nigh +cousin unto Joseph of Arithmy" [Arimathea]. + +Then either of them made much of the other, and so they went into the +castle for to take their repast. And anon there came in a dove at the +window, and in her bill there seemed a little censer of gold, and +therewithal there was such a savor as though all the spicery of the +world had been there; and forthwithal there was upon the table all +manner of meates and drinkes that they could thinke upon. So there came +a damosell, passing faire and young, and she beare a vessell of gold +between her hands, and thereto the king kneeled devoutly and said his +prayers, and so did all that were there. + +"O Jesu," said Sir Launcelot, "what may this meane?" + +"This is," said King Pelles, "the richest thing that any man hath +living; and when this thing goeth about, the round table shall bee +broken. And wit ye well," said King Pelles, "that this is the holy +sanegreall which ye have heere seene." + +So King Pelles and Sir Launcelot led their lives the most part of that +day. + + + + +PETER CHRISTEN ASBJÖRNSEN + +(1812-1885) + + +Asbjörnsen was born January 15th, 1812, at Christiania, Norway. He +entered the University in 1833, but was presently obliged to take the +position of tutor with a family in Romerike. Four years later he came +back to the University, where he studied medicine, but also and +particularly zoölogy and botany, subjects which he subsequently taught +in various schools. During his life among the country people he had +begun to collect folk-tales and legends, and afterward, on long +foot-tours undertaken in the pursuit of his favorite studies, he added +to this store. In co-operation with his lifelong friend, Jörgen Moe, +subsequently Bishop of Christiansand, he published in 1838 a first +collection of folk-stories. In later years his study of folk-lore went +on side by side with his study of zoölogy. At various times, from 1846 +to 1853, he received stipends from the Christiania University to enable +him to pursue zoölogical investigations at points along the Norwegian +coast. In addition to these journeys he had traversed Norway in every +direction, partly to observe the condition of the forests of the +country, and partly to collect the popular legends, which seem always to +have been in his mind. + +From 1856 to 1858 he studied forestry at Tharand, and in 1860 was made +head forester of the district of Trondhjem, in the north of Norway. He +retained this position until 1864, when he was sent by the government to +Holland, Germany, and Denmark, to investigate the turf industry. On his +return he was made the head of a commission whose purpose was to better +the turf production of the country, from which position he was finally +released with a pension in 1876. He died in 1885. + +Asbjörnsen's principal literary work was in the direction of the +folk-tales of Norway, although the list of his writings on natural +history, popular and scientific, is a long one. As a scientist he made +several important discoveries in deep-sea soundings, which gave him, at +home and abroad, a wide reputation, but the significance of his work as +a collector of folk-lore has in a great measure overshadowed this phase +of his activity. His greatest works are--'Norske Folke-eventyr' +(Norwegian Folk Tales), in collaboration with Moe, which appeared in +1842-44, and subsequently in many editions; 'Norske Huldre-eventyr og +Folkesagn' (Norwegian Fairy Tales and Folk Legends) in 1845. In the +stories published by Asbjörnsen alone, he has not confined himself +simply to the reproduction of the tales in their popular form, but has +retold them with an admirable setting of the characteristics of the life +of the people in their particular environment. He was a rare lover of +nature, and there are many exquisite bits of natural description. + +Asbjörnsen's literary power was of no mean merit, and his work not only +found immediate acceptance in his own country, but has been widely +translated into the other languages of Europe. Norwegian literature in +particular owes him a debt of gratitude, for he was the first to point +out the direction of the subsequent national development. + + +GUDBRAND OF THE MOUNTAIN-SIDE + +There was once a man named Gudbrand, who had a farm which lay on the +side of a mountain, whence he was called Gudbrand of the Mountain-side. +He and his wife lived in such harmony together, and were so well +matched, that whatever the husband did, seemed to the wife so well done +that it could not be done better; let him therefore act as he might, she +was equally well pleased. + +They owned a plot of ground, and had a hundred dollars lying at the +bottom of a chest, and in the stall two fine cows. One day the woman +said to Gudbrand:-- + +"I think we might as well drive one of the cows to town, and sell it; we +should then have a little pocket-money: for such respectable persons as +we are ought to have a few shillings in hand as well as others. The +hundred dollars at the bottom of the chest we had better not touch; but +I do not see why we should keep more than one cow: besides, we shall be +somewhat the gainers; for instead of two cows, I shall have only one to +milk and look after." + +These words Gudbrand thought both just and reasonable; so he took the +cow and went to the town in order to sell it: but when he came there, he +could not find any one who wanted to buy a cow. + +"Well!" thought Gudbrand, "I can go home again with my cow: I have both +stall and collar for her, and it is no farther to go backwards than +forwards." So saying, he began wandering home again. + +When he had gone a little way, he met a man who had a horse he wished to +sell, and Gudbrand thought it better to have a horse than a cow, so he +exchanged with the man. Going a little further still, he met a man +driving a fat pig before him; and thinking it better to have a fat pig +than a horse, he made an exchange with him also. A little further on he +met a man with a goat. "A goat," thought he, "is always better to have +than a pig;" so he made an exchange with the owner of the goat. He now +walked on for an hour, when he met a man with a sheep; with him he +exchanged his goat: "for," thought he, "it is always better to have a +sheep than a goat." After walking some way again, meeting a man with a +goose, he changed away the sheep for the goose; then going on a long +way, he met a man with a cock, and thought to himself, "It is better to +have a cock than a goose," and so gave his goose for the cock. Having +walked on till the day was far gone, and beginning to feel hungry, he +sold the cock for twelve shillings, and bought some food; "for," thought +he, "it is better to support life than to carry back the cock." After +this he continued his way homeward till he reached the house of his +nearest neighbor, where he called in. + +"How have matters gone with you in town?" asked the neighbor. + +"Oh," answered Gudbrand, "but so-so; I cannot boast of my luck, neither +can I exactly complain of it." He then began to relate all that he had +done from first to last. + +"You'll meet with a warm reception when you get home to your wife," said +his neighbor. "God help you, I would not be in your place." + +"I think things might have been much worse," said Gudbrand; "but whether +they are good or bad, I have such a gentle wife that she will never say +a word, let me do what I may." + +"Yes, that I know," answered his neighbor; "but I do not think she will +be so gentle in this instance." + +"Shall we lay a wager?" said Gudbrand of the Mountain-side. "I have got +a hundred dollars in my chest at home; will you venture the like sum?" + +"Yes, I will," replied the neighbor, and they wagered accordingly, and +remained till evening drew on, when they set out together for Gudbrand's +house; having agreed that the neighbor should stand outside and listen, +while Gudbrand went in to meet his wife. + +"Good-evening," said Gudbrand. + +"Good-evening," said his wife, "thank God thou art there." + +Yes, there he was. His wife then began asking him how he had fared in +the town. + +"So-so," said Gudbrand: "I have not much to boast of; for when I reached +the town there was no one who would buy the cow, so I changed it for +a horse." + +"Many thanks for that," said his wife: "we are such respectable people +that we ought to ride to church as well as others; and if we can afford +to keep a horse, we may certainly have one. Go and put the horse in the +stable, children." + +"Oh," said Gudbrand, "but I have not got the horse; for as I went along +the road, I exchanged the horse for a pig." + +"Well," said the woman, "that is just what I should have done myself; I +thank thee for that. I can now have pork and bacon in my house to offer +anybody when they come to see us. What should we have done with a horse? +People would only have said we were grown too proud to walk to church. +Go, children, and put the pig in." + +"But I have not brought the pig with me," exclaimed Gudbrand; "for when +I had gone a little further on, I exchanged it for a milch goat." + +"How admirably thou dost everything," exclaimed his wife. "What should +we have done with a pig? People would only have said that we eat +everything we own. Yes, now that I have a goat, I can get both milk and +cheese, and still keep my goat. Go and tie the goat, children." + +"No," said Gudbrand, "I have not brought home the goat; for when I came +a little further on, I changed the goat for a fine sheep." + +"Well," cried the woman, "thou hast done everything just as I could +wish; just as if I had been there myself. What should we have done with +a goat? I must have climbed up the mountains and wandered through the +valleys to bring it home in the evening. With a sheep I should have wool +and clothing in the house, with food into the bargain. So go, children, +and put the sheep into the field." + +"But I have not got the sheep," said Gudbrand, "for as I went a little +further, I changed it away for a goose." + +"Many, many thanks for that," said his wife. "What should I have done +with a sheep? For I have neither a spinning-wheel nor have I much desire +to toil and labor to make clothes; we can purchase clothing as we have +hitherto: now I shall have roast goose, which I have often longed for; +and then I can make a little pillow of the feathers. Go and bring in the +goose, children." + +"But I have not got the goose," said Gudbrand; "as I came on a little +further, I changed it away for a cock." + +"Heaven only knows how thou couldst think of all this," exclaimed his +wife, "it is just as if I had managed it all myself. A cock! that is +just as good as if thou hadst bought an eight-day clock; for as the cock +crows every morning at four o'clock, we can be stirring betimes. What +should I have done with a goose? I do not know how to dress a goose, and +my pillow I can stuff with moss. Go and fetch in the cock, children." + +"But I have not brought the cock home with me," said Gudbrand; "for when +I had gone a long, long way, I became so hungry that I was obliged to +sell the cock for twelve shillings to keep me alive." + +"Well! thank God thou always dost just as I could wish to have it done. +What should we have done with a cock? We are our own masters; we can lie +as long as we like in the morning. God be praised, I have got thee here +safe again, and as thou always dost everything so right, we want neither +a cock, nor a goose, nor a pig, nor a sheep, nor a cow." + +Hereupon Gudbrand opened the door:--"Have I won your hundred dollars?" +asked he of the neighbor, who was obliged to confess that he had. + +Translation by Benjamin Thorpe in 'Yule-Tide Stories' (Bonn's Library). + + +THE WIDOW'S SON + +There was once a very poor woman who had only one son. She toiled for +him till he was old enough to be confirmed by the priest, when she told +him that she could support him no longer, but that he must go out in the +world and gain his own livelihood. So the youth set out, and after +wandering about for a day or two he met a stranger. "Whither art thou +going?" asked the man. "I am going out in the world to see if I can get +employment," answered the youth.--"Wilt thou serve us?"--"Yes, just as +well serve you as anybody else," answered the youth. "Thou shalt be well +cared for with me," said the man: "thou shalt be my companion, and do +little or nothing besides." + +So the youth resided with him, had plenty to eat and drink, and very +little or nothing to do; but he never saw a living person in the +man's house. + +One day his master said to him:--"I am going to travel, and shall be +absent eight days. During that time thou wilt be here alone: but thou +must not go into either of these four rooms; if thou dost, I will kill +thee when I return." The youth answered that he would not. When the man +had gone away three or four days, the youth could no longer refrain, but +went into one of the rooms. He looked around, but saw nothing except a +shelf over the door, with a whip made of briar on it. "This was well +worth forbidding me so strictly from seeing," thought the youth. When +the eight days had passed the man came home again. "Thou hast not, I +hope, been into any of my rooms," said he. "No, I have not," answered +the youth. "That I shall soon be able to see," said the man, going into +the room the youth had entered. "But thou hast been in," said he, "and +now thou shalt die." The youth cried and entreated to be forgiven, so +that he escaped with his life but had a severe beating; when that was +over, they were as good friends as before. + +Some time after this, the man took another journey. This time he would +be away a fortnight, but first forbade the youth again from going into +any of the rooms he had not already been in; but the one he had +previously entered he might enter again. This time all took place just +as before, the only difference being that the youth abstained for eight +days before he entered the forbidden rooms. In one apartment he found +only a shelf over the door, on which lay a huge stone and a +water-bottle. "This is also something to be in such fear about," thought +the youth again. When the man came home, he asked whether he had been in +any of the rooms. "No, he had not," was the answer. "I shall soon see," +said the man; and when he found that the youth had nevertheless been in, +he said, "Now I will no longer spare thee, thou shalt die." But the +youth cried and implored that his life might be spared, and thus again +escaped with a beating; but this time got as much as could be laid on +him. When he had recovered from the effect of this beating he lived as +well as ever, and he and the man were as good friends as before. + +Some time after this, the man again made a journey, and now he was to be +three weeks absent. He warned the youth anew not to enter the third +room; if he did he must at once prepare to die. At the end of a +fortnight, the youth had no longer any command over himself, and stole +in; but here he saw nothing save a trap-door in the floor. He lifted it +up and looked through; there stood a large copper kettle, that boiled +and boiled, yet he could see no fire under it. "I should like to know if +it is hot," thought the youth, dipping his finger down into it; but when +he drew it up again he found that all his finger was gilt. He scraped +and washed it, but the gilding was not to be removed; so he tied a rag +over it, and when the man returned and asked him what was the matter +with his finger, he answered he had cut it badly. But the man, tearing +the rag off, at once saw what ailed the finger. At first he was going to +kill the youth, but as he cried and begged again, he merely beat him so +that he was obliged to lie in bed for three days. The man then took a +pot down from the wall and rubbed him with what it contained, so that +the youth was as well as before. + +After some time the man made another journey, and said he should not +return for a month. He then told the youth that if he went into the +fourth room, he must not think for a moment that his life would be +spared. One, two, even three weeks the youth refrained from entering the +forbidden room; but then, having no longer any command over himself, he +stole in. There stood a large black horse in a stall, with a trough of +burning embers at its head and a basket of hay at its tail. The youth +thought this was cruel, and therefore changed their position, putting +the basket of hay by the horse's head. The horse thereupon said:-- + +"As you have so kind a disposition that you enable me to get food, I +will save you: should the Troll return and find you here, he will kill +you. Now you must go up into the chamber above this, and take one of the +suits of armor that hang there: but on no account take one that is +bright; on the contrary, select the most rusty you can see, and take +that; choose also a sword and saddle in like manner." + +The youth did so, but he found the whole very heavy for him to carry. +When he came back, the horse said that now he should strip and wash +himself well in the kettle, which stood boiling in the next apartment. +"I feel afraid," thought the youth, but nevertheless did so. When he had +washed himself, he became comely and plump, and as red and white as milk +and blood, and much stronger than before. "Are you sensible of any +change?" asked the horse. "Yes," answered the youth. "Try to lift me," +said the horse. Aye, that he could, and brandished the sword with ease. +"Now lay the saddle on me," said the horse, "put on the armor and take +the whip of thorn, the stone and the water-flask, and the pot with +ointment, and then we will set out." + +When the youth had mounted the horse, it started off at a rapid rate. +After riding some time, the horse said, "I think I hear a noise. Look +round: can you see anything?" "A great many men are coming after +us,--certainly a score at least," answered the youth. "Ah! that is the +Troll," said the horse, "he is coming with all his companions." + +They traveled for a time, until their pursuers were gaining on them. +"Throw now the thorn whip over your shoulder," said the horse, "but +throw it far away from me." + +The youth did so, and at the same moment there sprang up a large thick +wood of briars. The youth now rode on a long way, while the Troll was +obliged to go home for something wherewith to hew a road through the +wood. After some time the horse again said, "Look back: can you see +anything now?" "Yes, a whole multitude of people," said the youth, "like +a church congregation."--"That is the Troll; now he has got more with +him; throw out now the large stone, but throw it far from me." + +When the youth had done what the horse desired, there arose a large +stone mountain behind them. So the Troll was obliged to go home after +something with which to bore through the mountain; and while he was thus +employed, the youth rode on a considerable way. But now the horse again +bade him look back: he then saw a multitude like a whole army; they were +so bright that they glittered in the sun. "Well, that is the Troll with +all his friends," said the horse. "Now throw the water bottle behind +you, but take good care to spill nothing on me!" The youth did so, but +notwithstanding his caution he happened to spill a drop on the horse's +loins. Immediately there rose a vast lake, and the spilling of the few +drops caused the horse to stand far out in the water; nevertheless, he +at last swam to the shore. + +When the Trolls came to the water they lay down to drink it all up, and +they gulped and gulped till they burst. "Now we are quit of them," said +the horse. + +When they had traveled on a very long way they came to a green plain in +a wood. "Take off your armor now," said the horse, "and put on your rags +only; lift my saddle off and hang everything up in that large hollow +linden; make yourself then a wig of pine-moss, go to the royal palace +which lies close by, and there ask for employment. When you desire to +see me, come to this spot, shake the bridle, and I will instantly be +with you." + +The youth did as the horse told him; and when he put on the moss wig he +became so pale and miserable to look at that no one would have +recognized him. On reaching the palace, he only asked if he might serve +in the kitchen to carry wood and water to the cook; but the cook-maid +asked him why he wore such an ugly wig? "Take it off," said she: "I will +not have anybody here so frightful." "That I cannot," answered the +youth, "for I am not very clean in the head." "Dost thou think then that +I will have thee in the kitchen, if such be the case?" said she; "go to +the master of the horse: thou art fittest to carry muck from the +stables." When the master of the horse told him to take off his wig, he +got the same answer, so he refused to have him. "Thou canst go to the +gardener," said he, "thou art only fit to go and dig the ground." The +gardener allowed him to remain, but none of the servants would sleep +with him, so he was obliged to sleep alone under the stairs of the +summer-house, which stood upon pillars and had a high staircase, under +which he laid a quantity of moss for a bed, and there lay as well as +he could. + +When he had been some time in the royal palace, it happened one morning, +just at sunrise, that the youth had taken off his moss wig and was +standing washing himself, and appeared so handsome it was a pleasure to +look on him. The princess saw from her window this comely gardener, and +thought she had never before seen any one so handsome. + +She then asked the gardener why he lay out there under the stairs. +"Because none of the other servants will lie with him," answered the +gardener. "Let him come this evening and lie by the door in my room," +said the princess: "they cannot refuse after that to let him sleep in +the house." + +The gardener told this to the youth. "Dost thou think I will do so?" +said he. "If I do so, all will say there is something between me and the +princess." "Thou hast reason, forsooth, to fear such a suspicion," +replied the gardener, "such a fine, comely lad as thou art." "Well, if +she has commanded it, I suppose I must comply," said the youth. In +going up-stairs that evening he stamped and made such a noise that they +were obliged to beg of him to go more gently, lest it might come to the +king's knowledge. When within the chamber, he lay down and began +immediately to snore. The princess then said to her waiting-maid, "Go +gently and pull off his moss wig." Creeping softly toward him, she was +about to snatch it, but he held it fast with both hands, and said she +should not have it. He then lay down again and began to snore. The +princess made a sign to the maid, and this time she snatched his wig +off. There he lay so beautifully red and white, just as the princess had +seen him in the morning sun. After this the youth slept every night in +the princess's chamber. + +But it was not long before the king heard that the garden lad slept +every night in the princess's chamber, at which he became so angry that +he almost resolved on putting him to death. This, however, he did not +do, but cast him into prison, and his daughter he confined to her room, +not allowing her to go out, either by day or night. Her tears and +prayers for herself and the youth were unheeded by the king, who only +became the more incensed against her. + +Some time after this, there arose a war and disturbance in the country, +and the king was obliged to take arms and defend himself against another +king, who threatened to deprive him of his throne. When the youth heard +this he begged the jailer would go to the king for him, and propose to +let him have armor and a sword, and allow him to follow to the war. All +the courtiers laughed when the jailer made known his errand to the king. +They begged he might have some old trumpery for armor, that they might +enjoy the sport of seeing the poor creature in the war. He got the armor +and also an old jade of a horse, which limped on three legs, dragging +the fourth after it. + +Thus they all marched forth against the enemy, but they had not gone far +from the royal palace before the youth stuck fast with his old jade in a +swamp. Here he sat beating and calling to the jade, "Hie! wilt thou go? +hie! wilt thou go?" This amused all the others, who laughed and jeered +as they passed. But no sooner were they all gone than, running to the +linden, he put on his own armor and shook the bridle, and immediately +the horse appeared, and said, "Do thou do thy best and I will do mine." + +When the youth arrived on the field the battle had already begun, and +the king was hard pressed; but just at that moment the youth put the +enemy to flight. The king and his attendants wondered who it could be +that came to their help; but no one had been near enough to speak to +him, and when the battle was over he was away. When they returned, the +youth was still sitting fast in the swamp, beating and calling to his +three-legged jade. They laughed as they passed, and said, "Only look, +yonder sits the fool yet." + +The next day when they marched out the youth was still sitting there, +and they again laughed and jeered at him; but no sooner had they all +passed by than he ran again to the linden, and everything took place as +on the previous day. Every one wondered who the stranger warrior was who +had fought for them; but no one approached him so near that he could +speak to him: of course no one ever imagined that it was the youth. + +When they returned in the evening and saw him and his old jade still +sticking fast in the swamp, they again made a jest of him; one shot an +arrow at him and wounded him in the leg, and he began to cry and moan so +that it was sad to hear, whereupon the king threw him his handkerchief +that he might bind it about his leg. When they marched forth the third +morning there sat the youth calling to his horse, "Hie! wilt thou go? +hie! wilt thou go?" "No, no! he will stay there till he starves," said +the king's men as they passed by, and laughed so heartily at him that +they nearly fell from their horses. When they had all passed, he again +ran to the linden, and came to the battle just at the right moment. That +day he killed the enemy's king, and thus the war was at an end. + +When the fighting was over, the king observed his handkerchief tied +round the leg of the strange warrior, and by this he easily knew him. +They received him with great joy, and carried him with them up to the +royal palace, and the princess, who saw them from her window, was so +delighted no one could tell. "There comes my beloved also," said she. He +then took the pot of ointment and rubbed his leg, and afterward all the +wounded, so that they were all well again in a moment. + +After this the king gave him the princess to wife. On the day of his +marriage he went down into the stable to see the horse, and found him +dull, hanging his ears and refusing to eat. When the young king--for he +was now king, having obtained the half of the realm--spoke to him and +asked him what he wanted, the horse said, "I have now helped thee +forward in the world, and I will live no longer: thou must take thy +sword, and cut my head off." "No, that I will not do," said the young +king: "thou shalt have whatever thou wilt, and always live without +working." "If thou wilt not do as I say," answered the horse, "I shall +find a way of killing thee." + +The king was then obliged to slay him; but when he raised the sword to +give the stroke he was so distressed that he turned his face away; but +no sooner had he struck his head off than there stood before him a +handsome prince in the place of the horse. + +"Whence in the name of Heaven didst thou come?" asked the king. "It was +I who was the horse," answered the prince. "Formerly I was king of the +country whose sovereign you slew yesterday; it was he who cast over me a +horse's semblance, and sold me to the Troll. As he is killed, I shall +recover my kingdom, and you and I shall be neighboring kings; but we +will never go to war with each other." + +Neither did they; they were friends as long as they lived, and the one +came often to visit the other. + + + + +ROGER ASCHAM + +(1515-1568) + + +This noted scholar owes his place in English literature to his pure, +vigorous English prose. John Tindal and Sir Thomas More, his +predecessors, had perhaps equaled him in the flexible and simple use of +his native tongue, but they had not surpassed him. The usage of the time +was still to write works of importance in Latin, and Ascham was master +of a good Ciceronian Latin style. It is to his credit that he urged on +his countrymen the writing of English, and set them an example of its +vigorous use. + +He was the son of John Ascham, house steward to Lord Scrope of Bolton, +and was born at Kirby Wiske, near Northallerton, in 1515. At the age of +fifteen he entered St. John's College, Cambridge, where he applied +himself to Greek and Latin, mathematics, music, and penmanship. He had +great success in teaching and improving the study of the classics; but +seems to have had a somewhat checkered academic career, both as student +and teacher. His poverty was excessive, and he made many unsuccessful +attempts to secure patronage and position; till at length, in 1545, he +published his famous treatise on Archery, 'Toxophilus,' which he +presented to Henry VIII. in the picture gallery at Greenwich, and which +obtained for him a small pension. The treatise is in the form of a +dialogue, the first part being an argument in favor of archery, and the +second, instructions for its practice. In its pages he makes a plea for +the literary use of the English tongue. + +After long-continued disappointment and trouble, he was finally +successful in obtaining the position of tutor to the Princess Elizabeth, +in 1548. She was fifteen years old, and he found her an apt scholar; but +the life was irksome, and in 1550 he resigned the post to return to +Cambridge as public orator,--whence one may guess as a main reason for +so excellent a teacher having so hard a time to live, that like many +others he liked to talk about his profession better than to practice it. +Going abroad shortly afterward as secretary to Sir Richard Morysin, +ambassador to Charles V., he remained with him until 1553, when he +received the appointment of Latin secretary to Queen Mary. It is said +that he wrote for her forty-seven letters in his fine Latin style, in +three days. + +[Illustration: ROGER ASCHAM] + +At the accession of Elizabeth he received the office of the Queen's +private tutor. Poverty and "household griefs" still gave him anxiety; +but during the five years which elapsed between 1563 and his death in +1568, he found some comfort in the composition of his Schoolmaster, +which was published by his widow in 1570. It was suggested by a +conversation at Windsor with Sir William Cecil, on the proper method of +bringing up children. Sir Richard Sackville was so well pleased with +Ascham's theories that he, with others, entreated him to write a +practical work on the subject. 'The Schoolmaster' argues in favor of +gentleness rather than force on the part of an instructor. Then he +commends his own method of teaching Latin by double translation, offers +remarks on Latin prosody, and touches on other pedagogic themes. Both +this and the 'Toxophilus' show a pure, straightforward, easy style. +Contemporary testimony to its beauty may be found in an appendix to +Mayor's edition of 'The School master' (1863); though Dr. Johnson, in a +memoir prefixed to Rennet's collected edition of Ascham's English works +(1771), says that "he was scarcely known as an author in his own +language till Mr. Upton published his 'Schoolmaster' in 1771." He has +remained, however, the best known type of a great teacher in the +popular memory; in part, perhaps, through his great pupil. + +The best collected edition of his works, including his Latin letters, +was published by Dr. Giles in 1864-5. There is an authoritative edition +of the 'Schoolmaster' in the Arber Series of old English reprints. The +best account of his system of education is in R.H. Quick's 'Essays on +Educational Reformers' (1868). + + + +ON GENTLENESS IN EDUCATION + +From 'The Schoolmaster' + + +Yet some will say that children, of nature, love pastime, and mislike +learning; because, in their kind, the one is easy and pleasant, the +other hard and wearisome. Which is an opinion not so true as some men +ween. For the matter lieth not so much in the disposition of them that +be young, as in the order and manner of bringing up by them that be old; +nor yet in the difference of learning and pastime. For, beat a child if +he dance not well, and cherish him though he learn not well, you shall +have him unwilling to go to dance, and glad to go to his book; knock him +always when he draweth his shaft ill, and favor him again though he +fault at his book, you shall have him very loth to be in the field, and +very willing to be in the school. Yea, I say more, and not of myself, +but by the judgment of those from whom few wise men will gladly dissent; +that if ever the nature of man be given at any time, more than other, to +receive goodness, it is in innocency of young years, before that +experience of evil have taken root in him. For the pure clean wit of a +sweet young babe is like the newest wax, most able to receive the best +and fairest printing; and like a new bright silver dish never occupied, +to receive and keep clean any good thing that is put into it. + +And thus, will in children, wisely wrought withal, may easily be won to +be very well willing to learn. And wit in children, by nature, namely +memory, the only key and keeper of all learning, is readiest to receive +and surest to keep any manner of thing that is learned in youth. This, +lewd and learned, by common experience, know to be most true. For we +remember nothing so well when we be old as those things which we learned +when we were young. And this is not strange, but common in all nature's +works. "Every man seeth (as I said before) new wax is best for +printing, new clay fittest for working, new-shorn wool aptest for soon +and surest dyeing, new fresh flesh for good and durable salting." And +this similitude is not rude, nor borrowed of the larder-house, but out +of his school-house, of whom the wisest of England need not be ashamed +to learn. "Young grafts grow not only soonest, but also fairest, and +bring always forth the best and sweetest fruit; young whelps learn +easily to carry; young popin-jays learn quickly to speak." And so, to be +short, if in all other things, though they lack reason, sense, and life, +the similitude of youth is fittest to all goodness, surely nature in +mankind is most beneficial and effectual in their behalf. + +Therefore, if to the goodness of nature be joined the wisdom of the +teacher, in leading young wits into a right and plain way of learning; +surely children kept up in God's fear, and governed by His grace, may +most easily be brought well to serve God and their country, both by +virtue and wisdom. + +But if will and wit, by farther age, be once allured from innocency, +delighted in vain sights, filled with foul talk, crooked with +wilfulness, hardened with stubbornness, and let loose to disobedience; +surely it is hard with gentleness, but impossible with severe cruelty, +to call them back to good frame again. For where the one perchance may +bend it, the other shall surely break it: and so, instead of some hope, +leave an assured desperation, and shameless contempt of all goodness; +the furthest point in all mischief, as Xenophon doth most truly and most +wittily mark. + +Therefore, to love or to hate, to like or contemn, to ply this way or +that way to good or to bad, ye shall have as ye use a child in +his youth. + +And one example whether love or fear doth work more in a child for +virtue and learning, I will gladly report; which may be heard with some +pleasure, and followed with more profit. + +Before I went into Germany, I came to Broadgate in Leicestershire, to +take my leave of that noble lady, Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding +much beholding. Her parents, the duke and duchess, with all the +household, gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found +her in her chamber, reading Phædo Platonis in Greek, and that with as +much delight as some gentlemen would read a merry tale in Boccace. After +salutation and duty done, with some other talk, I asked her why she +would leese [lose] such pastime in the park? Smiling she answered me: +"Iwisse, all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure +that I find in Plato. Alas! good folk, they never felt what true +pleasure meant." "And how came you, madame," quoth I, "to this deep +knowledge of pleasure? and what did chiefly allure you unto it, seeing +not many women, but very few men, have attained thereunto?" "I will tell +you," quoth she, "and tell you a truth, which perchance ye will marvel +at. One of the greatest benefits that ever God gave me, is, that he sent +me so sharp and severe parents, and so gentle a schoolmaster. For when I +am in presence either of father or mother, whether I speak, keep +silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink, be merry, or sad, be sewing, +playing, dancing, or doing anything else, I must do it, as it were, in +such weight, measure, and number, even so perfectly, as God made the +world; or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea, +presently, sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs, and other ways which +I will not name, for the honor I bear them, so without measure +misordered, that I think myself in hell, till time come that I must go +to Mr. Elmer; who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair +allurements to learning, that I think all the time nothing whiles I am +with him. And when I am called from him, I fall on weeping, because +whatsoever I do else but learning, is full of grief, trouble, fear, and +whole misliking unto me. And thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, +and bringeth daily to me more pleasure and more, that in respect of it, +all other pleasures, in very deed, be but trifles and troubles unto me." + +I remember this talk gladly, both because it is so worthy of memory, and +because also it was the last talk that ever I had, and the last time +that ever I saw that noble and worthy lady. + + + +ON STUDY AND EXERCISE + +From 'Toxophilus' + + +Philologe--But now to our shooting, Toxophile, again; wherein I suppose +you cannot say so much for shooting to be fit for learning, as you have +spoken against music for the same. Therefore, as concerning music, I can +be content to grant you your mind; but as for shooting, surely I suppose +that you cannot persuade me, by no means, that a man can be earnest in +it, and earnest at his book too; but rather I think that a man with a +bow on his back, and shafts under his girdle, is more fit to wait upon +Robin Hood than upon Apollo or the Muses. + +_Toxophile_--Over-earnest shooting surely I will not over-earnestly +defend; for I ever thought shooting should be a waiter upon learning, +not a mistress over learning. Yet this I marvel not a little at, that ye +think a man with a bow on his back is more like Robin Hood's servant +than Apollo's, seeing that Apollo himself, in Alcestis of Euripides, +which tragedy you read openly not long ago, in a manner glorieth, saying +this verse:-- + + "It is my wont always my bow with me to bear." + +Therefore a learned man ought not too much to be ashamed to bear that +sometime, which Apollo, god of learning, himself was not ashamed always +to bear. And because ye would have a man wait upon the Muses, and not at +all meddle with shooting: I marvel that you do not remember how that the +nine Muses their self, as soon as they were born, were put to nurse to a +lady called Euphemis, which had a son named Erotus, with whom the nine +Muses for his excellent shooting kept evermore company withal, and used +daily to shoot together in the Mount Parnassus; and at last it chanced +this Erotus to die, whose death the Muses lamented greatly, and fell all +upon their knees afore Jupiter their father; and at their request, +Erotus, for shooting with the Muses on earth, was made a sign and called +Sagittarius in heaven. Therefore you see that if Apollo and the Muses +either were examples indeed, or only feigned of wise men to be examples +of learning, honest shooting may well enough be companion with +honest study. + +_Philologe_--Well, Toxophile, if you have no stronger defense of +shooting than poets, I fear if your companions which love shooting heard +you, they would think you made it but a trifling and fabling matter, +rather than any other man that loveth not shooting could be persuaded by +this reason to love it. + +_Toxophile_--Even as I am not so fond but I know that these be fables, +so I am sure you be not so ignorant but you know what such noble wits as +the poets had, meant by such matters; which oftentimes, under the +covering of a fable, do hide and wrap in goodly precepts of philosophy, +with the true judgment of things. Which to be true, specially in Homer +and Euripides, Plato, Aristotle, and Galen plainly do show; when through +all their works (in a manner) they determine all controversies by these +two poets and such like authorities. Therefore, if in this matter I seem +to fable and nothing prove, I am content you judge so on me, seeing the +same judgment shall condemn with me Plato, Aristotle, and Galen, whom in +that error I am well content to follow. If these old examples prove +nothing for shooting, what say you to this, that the best learned and +sagest men in this realm which be now alive, both love shooting and use +shooting, as the best learned bishops that be? amongst whom, Philologe, +you yourself know four or five, which, as in all good learning, virtue, +and sageness, they give other men example what thing they should do, +even so by their shooting they plainly show what honest pastime other +men given to learning may honestly use. That earnest study must be +recreated with honest pastime, sufficiently I have proved afore, both by +reason and authority of the best learned men that ever wrote. Then +seeing pastimes be leful [lawful], the most fittest for learning is to +be sought for. A pastime, saith Aristotle, must be like a medicine. +Medicines stand by contraries; therefore, the nature of studying +considered, the fittest pastime shall soon appear. In study every part +of the body is idle, which thing causeth gross and cold humors to gather +together and vex scholars very much; the mind is altogether bent and set +on work. A pastime then must be had where every part of the body must be +labored, to separate and lessen such humors withal; the mind must be +unbent, to gather and fetch again his quickness withal. Thus pastimes +for the mind only be nothing fit for students, because the body, which +is most hurt by study, should take away no profit thereat. This knew +Erasmus very well, when he was here in Cambridge; which, when he had +been sore at his book (as Garret our book-binder had very often told +me), for lack of better exercise, would take his horse and ride about +the market-hill and come again. If a scholar should use bowls or tennis, +the labor is too vehement and unequal, which is condemned of Galen; the +example very ill for other men, when by so many acts they be made +unlawful. Running, leaping, and quoiting be too vile for scholars, and +so not fit by Aristotle's judgment; walking alone into the field hath no +token of courage in it, a pastime like a simple man which is neither +flesh nor fish. Therefore if a man would have a pastime wholesome and +equal for every part of the body, pleasant and full of courage for the +mind, not vile and unhonest to give ill example to laymen, not kept in +gardens and corners, not lurking on the night and in holes, but evermore +in the face of men, either to rebuke it when it doeth ill, or else to +testify on it when it doth well, let him seek chiefly of all other +for shooting. + + + +ATHENÆUS + +(Third Century A.D.) + + +Little is known that is authentic about the Græco-Egyptian Sophist or +man of letters, Athenaeus, author of the 'Deipnosophistæ' or Feast of +the Learned, except his literary bequest. It is recorded that he was +born at Naucratis, a city of the Nile Delta; and that after living at +Alexandria he migrated to Rome. His date is presumptively fixed in the +early part of the third century by his inclusion of Ulpian, the eminent +jurist (whose death occurred A.D. 228) among the twenty-nine guests of +the banquet whose wit and learning furnished its viands. He was perhaps +a contemporary of the physician Galen, another of the putative +banqueters, who served as a mouthpiece of the author's erudition. + +Probably nothing concerning him deserved preservation except his unique +work, the 'Feast of the Learned.' Of the fifteen books transmitted under +the above title, the first two, and portions of the third, eleventh, and +fifteenth, exist only in epitome--the name of the compiler and his time +being equally obscure; yet it is curious that for many centuries these +garbled fragments were the only memorials of the author extant. The +other books, constituting the major portion of the work, have been +pronounced authentic by eminent scholars with Bentley at their head. +Without the slightest pretense of literary skill, the 'Feast of the +Learned' is an immense storehouse of _Ana_, or table-talk. Into its +receptacles the author gathers fruitage from nearly every branch of +contemporary learning. He seemed to anticipate Macaulay's "vice of +omniscience," though he lacked Macaulay's incomparable literary virtues. +Personal anecdote, criticism of the fine arts, the drama, history, +poetry, philosophy, politics, medicine, and natural history enter into +his pages, illustrated with an aptness and variety of quotation which +seem to have no limit. He preserves old songs, folk-lore, and popular +gossip, and relates whatever he may have heard, without sifting it. He +gives, for example, a vivid account of the procession which greeted +Demetrius Poliorketes:-- + + "When Demetrius returned from Leucadia and Corcyra to Athens, + the Athenians received him not only with incense and garlands + and libations, but they even sent out processional choruses, + and greeted him with Ithyphallic hymns and dances. Stationed + by his chariot-wheels, they sang and danced and chanted that + he alone was a real god; the rest were sleeping or were on a + journey, or did not exist: they called him son of Poseidon + and Aphrodite, eminent for beauty, universal in his goodness + to mankind; then they prayed and besought and supplicated him + like a god." + +The hymn of worship which Athenaeus evidently disapproved has been +preserved, and turned into English by the accomplished J.A. Symonds on +account of its rare and interesting versification. It belongs to the +class of Prosodia, or processional hymns, which the greatest poets +delighted to produce, and which were sung at religious festivals by +young men and maidens, marching to the shrines in time with the music, +their locks crowned with wreaths of olive, myrtle, or oleander; their +white robes shining in the sun. + + "See how the mightiest gods, and best beloved, + Towards our town are winging! + For lo! Demeter and Demetrius + This glad day is bringing! + She to perform her Daughter's solemn rites; + Mystic pomps attend her; + He joyous as a god should be, and blithe, + Comes with laughing splendor. + Show forth your triumph! Friends all, troop around, + Let him shine above you! + Be you the stars to circle him with love; + He's the sun to love you. + Hail, offspring of Poseidon, powerful god, + Child of Aphrodite! + The other deities keep far from earth; + Have no ears, though mighty; + They are not, or they will not hear us wail: + Thee our eye beholdeth; + Not wood, not stone, but living, breathing, real, + Thee our prayer enfoldeth. + First give us peace! Give, dearest, for thou canst; + Thou art Lord and Master! + The Sphinx, who not on Thebes, but on all Greece + Swoops to gloat and pasture; + The Ætolian, he who sits upon his rock, + Like that old disaster; + He feeds upon our flesh and blood, and we + Can no longer labor; + For it was ever thus the Ætolian thief + Preyed upon his neighbor; + Him punish Thou, or, if not Thou, then send + Oedipus to harm him, + Who'll cast this Sphinx down from his cliff of pride, + Or to stone will charm him." + +The Swallow song, which is cited, is an example of the folk-lore and old +customs which Athenaeus delighted to gather; and he tells how in +springtime the children used to go about from door to door, begging +doles and presents, and singing such half-sensible, half-foolish +rhymes as-- + + "She is here, she is here, the swallow! + Fair seasons bringing, fair years to follow! + Her belly is white, + Her back black as night! + From your rich house + Roll forth to us + Tarts, wine, and cheese; + Or, if not these, + Oatmeal and barley-cake + The swallow deigns to take. + What shall we have? or must we hence away! + Thanks, if you give: if not, we'll make you pay! + The house-door hence we'll carry; + Nor shall the lintel tarry; + From hearth and home your wife we'll rob; + She is so small, + To take her off will be an easy job! + Whate'er you give, give largess free! + Up! open, open, to the swallow's call! + No grave old men, but merry children we!" + +The 'Feast of the Learned' professes to be the record of the sayings at +a banquet given at Rome by Laurentius to his learned friends. Laurentius +stands as the typical Mæcenas of the period. The dialogue is reported +after Plato's method, or as we see it in the more familiar form of the +'Satires' of Horace, though lacking the pithy vigor of these models. The +discursiveness with which topics succeed each other, their want of logic +or continuity, and the pelting fire of quotations in prose and verse, +make a strange mixture. It may be compared to one of those dishes known +both to ancients and to moderns, in which a great variety of scraps is +enriched with condiments to the obliteration of all individual flavor. +The plan of execution is so cumbersome that its only defense is its +imitation of the inevitably disjointed talk when the guests of a dinner +party are busy with their wine and nuts. One is tempted to suspect +Athenaeus of a sly sarcasm at his own expense, when he puts the +following flings at pedantry in the mouths of some of his puppets:-- + + "And now when Myrtilus had said all this in a connected + statement, and when all were marveling at his memory, + Cynulcus said,-- + + 'Your multifarious learning I do wonder at, + Though there is not a thing more vain and useless.' + + "Says Hippo the Atheist, 'But the divine Heraclitus also + says, 'A great variety of information does not usually give + wisdom.' And Timon said, ... 'For what is the use of so many + names, my good grammarian, which are more calculated to + overwhelm the hearers than to do them any good?'" + +This passage shows the redundancy of expression which disfigures so much +of Athenaeus. It is also typical of the cudgel-play of repartee between +his characters, which takes the place of agile witticism. But if he +heaps up vast piles of scholastic rubbish, he is also the Golden Dustman +who shows us the treasure preserved by his saving pedantry. Scholars +find the 'Feast of the Learned' a quarry of quotations from classical +writers whose works have perished. Nearly eight hundred writers and +twenty-four hundred separate writings are referred to and cited in this +disorderly encyclopedia, most of them now lost and forgotten. This +literary thrift will always give rank to the work of Athenaeus, poor as +it is. The best editions of the original Greek are those of Dindorf +(Leipzig, 1827), and of Meineke (Leipzig, 1867). The best English +translation is that of C.D. Yonge in 'Bonn's Classical Library,' from +which, with slight alterations, the appended passages are selected. + + +WHY THE NILE OVERFLOWS + +From the 'Deipnosophistæ' + +Thales the Milesian, one of the Seven Wise Men, says that the +overflowing of the Nile arises from the Etesian winds; for that they +blow up the river, and that the mouths of the river lie exactly opposite +to the point from which they blow; and accordingly, that the wind +blowing in the opposite direction hinders the flow of the waters; and +the waves of the sea, dashing against the mouth of the river, and coming +on with a fair wind in the same direction, beat back the river, and in +this manner the Nile becomes full to overflowing. But Anaxagoras, the +natural philosopher, says that the fullness of the Nile arises from the +snow melting; and so too says Euripides, and some others of the tragic +poets. Anaxagoras says this is the sole origin of all that fullness; but +Euripides goes further and describes the exact place where this melting +of the snow takes place. + + +HOW TO PRESERVE THE HEALTH + +From the 'Deipnosophistæ' + +One ought to avoid thick perfumes, and to drink water that is thin and +clear, and that in respect of weight is light, and that has no earthy +particles in it. And that water is best which is of moderate heat or +coldness, and which, when poured into a brazen or silver vessel, does +not produce a blackish sediment. Hippocrates says, "Water which is +easily warmed or easily chilled is alway lighter." But that water is bad +which takes a long time to boil vegetables; and so too is water full of +nitre, or brackish. And in his book 'On Waters,' Hippocrates calls good +water drinkable; but stagnant water he calls bad, such as that from +ponds or marshes. And most spring-water is rather hard. + +Erasistratus says that some people test water by weight, and that is a +most stupid proceeding. "For just look," says he, "if men compare the +water from the fountain Amphiaraus with that from the Eretrian spring, +though one of them is good and the other bad, there is absolutely no +difference in their respective weights." And Hippocrates, in his book +'On Places,' says that those waters are the best which flow from high +ground, and from dry hills, "for they are white and sweet, and are able +to bear very little wine, and are warm in winter and cold in summer." +And he praises those most, the springs of which break toward the east, +and especially toward the northeast, for they must be inevitably clear +and fragrant and light. Diocles says that water is good for the +digestion and not apt to cause flatulency, that it is moderately +cooling, and good for the eyes, and that it has no tendency to make the +head feel heavy, and that it adds vigor to the mind and body. And +Praxagoras says the same; and he also praises rain-water. But Euenor +praises water from cisterns, and says that the best is that from the +cistern of Amphiaraus, when compared with that from the fountain +in Eretria. + +That water is really nutritious is plain from the fact that some animals +are nourished by it alone, as for instance grasshoppers. And there are +many other liquids that are nutritious, such as milk, barley water, and +wine. At all events, animals at the breast are nourished by milk; and +there are many nations who drink nothing but milk. And it is said that +Democritus, the philosopher of Abdera, after he had determined to rid +himself of life on account of his extreme old age, and after he had +begun to diminish his food day by day, when the day of the Thesmophorian +festival came round, and the women of his household besought him not to +die during the festival, in order that they might not be debarred from +their share in the festivities, was persuaded, and ordered a vessel full +of honey to be set near him: and in this way he lived many days with no +other support than honey; and then some days after, when the honey had +been taken away, he died. But Democritus had always been fond of honey; +and he once answered a man, who asked him how he could live in the +enjoyment of the best health, that he might do so if he constantly +moistened his inward parts with honey, and the outer man with oil. And +bread and honey was the chief food of the Pythagoreans, according to the +statement of Aristoxenus, who says that those who eat this for breakfast +were free from disease all their lives. And Lycus says that the Cyrneans +(a people who live near Sardinia) are very long-lived, because they are +continually eating honey; and it is produced in great quantities +among them. + + +AN ACCOUNT OF SOME GREAT EATERS + +From the Deipnosophistæ + +Heraclitus, in his 'Entertainer of Strangers,' says that there +was a woman named Helena who ate more than any other woman ever did. And +Posidippus, in his 'Epigrams,' says that Phuromachus was a great eater, +on whom he wrote this epigram:-- + + This lowly ditch now holds Phuromachus, + Who used to swallow everything he saw, + Like a fierce carrion crow who roams all night. + Now here he lies wrapped in a ragged cloak. + But, O Athenian, whosoe'er you are, + Anoint this tomb and crown it with a wreath, + If ever in old times he feasted with you. + At last he came _sans_ teeth, with eyes worn out, + And livid, swollen eyelids; clothed in skins, + With but one single cruse, and that scarce full; + Far from the gay Lenæan Games he came, + Descending humbly to Calliope. + +Amarantus of Alexandria, in his treatise on the Stage, says that +Herodorus, the Megarian trumpeter, was a man three cubits and a half in +height; and that he had great strength in his chest, and that he could +eat six pounds of bread, and twenty _litræ_ of meat, of whatever sort +was provided for him, and that he could drink two _choes_ of wine; and +that he could play on two trumpets at once; and that it was his habit to +sleep on only a lion's skin, and when playing on the trumpet he made a +vast noise. Accordingly, when Demetrius the son of Antigonus was +besieging Argos, and when his troops could not bring the battering ram +against the walls on account of its weight, he, giving the signal with +his two trumpets at once, by the great volume of sound which he poured +forth, instigated the soldiers to move forward the engine with great +zeal and earnestness; and he gained the prize in all the games ten +times; and he used to eat sitting down, as Nestor tells us in his +'Theatrical Reminiscences.' And there was a woman, too, named Aglais, +who played on the trumpet, the daughter of Megacles, who, in the first +great procession which took place in Alexandria, played a processional +piece of music; having a head-dress of false hair on, and a crest upon +her head, as Posidippus proves by his epigrams on her. And she too could +eat twelve _litræ_ of meat and four _choenixes_ of bread, and drink a +_choenus_ of wine, at one sitting. + +There was besides a man of the name of Lityerses, a bastard son of +Midas, the King of Celænæ, in Phrygia, a man of a savage and fierce +aspect, and an enormous glutton. He is mentioned by Sositheus, the +tragic poet, in his play called 'Daphnis' or 'Lityersa'; where +he says:-- + + "He'll eat three asses' panniers, freight and all, + Three times in one brief day; and what he calls + A measure of wine is a ten-amphorae cask; + And this he drinks all at a single draught." + +And the man mentioned by Pherecrates, or Strattis, whichever was the +author of the play called 'The Good Men,' was much such another; the +author says:-- + + "A.--I scarcely in one day, unless I'm forced, Can eat two bushels + and a half of food. + B.--A most unhappy man! how have you lost + Your appetite, so as now to be content + With the scant rations of one ship of war?" + +And Xanthus, in his 'Account of Lydia,' says that Cambles, who was the +king of the Lydians, was a great eater and drinker, and also an +exceeding epicure; and accordingly, that he one night cut up his own +wife into joints and ate her; and then, in the morning, finding the hand +of his wife still sticking in his mouth, he slew himself, as his act +began to get notorious. And we have already mentioned Thys, the king of +the Paphlagonians, saying that he too was a man of vast appetite, +quoting Theopompus, who speaks of him in the thirty-fifth book of his +'History'; and Archilochus, in his 'Tetrameters,' has accused Charilas +of the same fault, as the comic poets have attacked Cleonymus and +Pisander. And Phoenicides mentions Chærippus in his 'Phylarchus' in the +following terms:-- + + "And next to them I place Chærippus third; + He, as you know, will without ceasing eat + As long as any one will give him food, + Or till he bursts,--such stowage vast has he, + Like any house." + +And Nicolaus the Peripatetic, in the hundred and third book of his +'History,' says that Mithridates, the king of Pontus, once proposed a +contest in great eating and great drinking (the prize was a talent of +silver), and that he himself gained the victory in both; but he yielded +the prize to the man who was judged to be second to him, namely, +Calomodrys, the athlete of Cyzicus. And Timocreon the Rhodian, a poet +and an athlete who had gained the victory in the pentathlum, ate and +drank a great deal, as the epigram on his tomb shows:-- + + "Much did I eat, much did I drink, and much + Did I abuse all men; now here I lie:-- + My name Timocreon, my country Rhodes." + +And Thrasymachus of Chalcedon, in one of his prefaces, says that +Timocreon came to the great king of Persia, and being entertained by +him, did eat an immense quantity of food; and when the king asked him, +What he would do on the strength of it? he said that he would beat a +great many Persians; and the next day having vanquished a great many, +one after another, taking them one by one, after this he beat the air +with his hands; and when they asked him what he wanted, he said that he +had all those blows left in him if any one was inclined to come on. And +Clearchus, in the fifth book of his 'Lives,' says that Cantibaris the +Persian, whenever his jaws were weary with eating, had his slaves to +pour food into his mouth, which he kept open as if they were pouring it +into an empty vessel. But Hellanicus, in the first book of his +Deucalionea, says that Erysichthon, the son of Myrmidon, being a man +perfectly insatiable in respect of food, was called Æthon. Also Polemo, +in the first book of his 'Treatise addressed to Timæus,' says that among +the Sicilians there was a temple consecrated to gluttony, and an image +of Demeter Sito; near which also there was a statue of Himalis, as there +is at Delphi one of Hermuchus, and as at Scolum in Boeotia there are +statues of Megalartus and Megalomazus. + + +THE LOVE OF ANIMALS FOR MAN + +From the 'Deipnosophistæ' + +And even dumb animals have fallen in love with men; for there was a cock +who took a fancy to a man of the name of Secundus, a cupbearer of the +king; and the cock was nicknamed "the Centaur." This Secundus was a +slave of Nicomedes, the king of Bithynia; as Nicander informs us in the +sixth book of his essay on 'The Revolutions of Fortune.' And at Ægium, a +goose took a fancy to a boy; as Clearchus relates in the first book of +his 'Amatory Anecdotes.' And Theophrastus, in his essay 'On Love,' says +that the name of this boy was Amphilochus, and that he was a native of +Olenus. And Hermeas the son of Hermodorus, who was a Samian by birth, +says that a goose also took a fancy to Lacydes the philosopher. And in +Leucadia (according to a story told by Clearchus), a peacock fell so in +love with a maiden there that when she died, the bird died too. There is +a story also that at Iasus a dolphin took a fancy to a boy, and this +story is told by Duris, in the ninth book of his 'History'; and the +subject of that book is the history of Alexander, and the historian's +words are these:-- + +"He likewise sent for the boy from Iasus. For near Iasus there was a boy +whose name was Dionysius, and he once, when leaving the palæstra with +the rest of the boys, went down to the sea and bathed; and a dolphin +came forward out of the deep water to meet him, and taking him on his +back, swam away with him a considerable distance into the open sea, and +then brought him back again to land." + +The dolphin is in fact an animal which is very fond of men, and very +intelligent, and one very susceptible of gratitude. Accordingly, +Phylarchus, in his twelfth book, says:-- + +"Coiranus the Milesian, when he saw some fishermen who had caught a +dolphin in a net, and who were about to cut it up, gave them some money +and bought the fish, and took it down and put it back in the sea again. +And after this it happened to him to be shipwrecked near Myconos, and +while every one else perished, Coiranus alone was saved by a dolphin. +And when at last he died of old age in his native country, as it so +happened that his funeral procession passed along the seashore close to +Miletus, a great shoal of dolphins appeared on that day in the harbor, +keeping only a very little distance from those who were attending the +funeral of Coiranus, as if they also were joining in the procession and +sharing in their grief." + +The same Phylarchus also relates, in the twentieth book of his +'History,' the great affection which was once displayed by an elephant +for a boy. And his words are these:-- + +"Now there was a female elephant kept with this elephant, and the name +of the female elephant was Nicaea; and to her the wife of the king of +India, when dying, intrusted her child, which was just a month old. And +when the woman did die, the affection for the child displayed by the +beast was most extraordinary; for it could not endure the child to be +away; and whenever it did not see him, it was out of spirits. And so, +whenever the nurse fed the infant with milk, she placed it in its cradle +between the feet of the beast; and if she had not done so, the elephant +would not take any food; and after this, it would take whatever reeds +and grass there were near, and, while the child was sleeping, beat away +the flies with the bundle. And whenever the child wept, it would rock +the cradle with its trunk, and lull it to sleep. And very often the male +elephant did the same." + + + + +PER DANIEL AMADEUS ATTERBOM + +(1790-1855) + + +Among the leaders of the romantic movement which affected Swedish +literature in the earlier half of the nineteenth century was P.D.A. +Atterbom, one of the greatest lyric poets of his country. He was born in +Ostergöthland, in 1790, and at the age of fifteen was already so +advanced in his studies that he entered the University of Upsala. There +in 1807 he helped to found the "Musis Amici," a students' society of +literature and art; its membership included Hedbom, who is remembered +for his beautiful hymns, and the able and laborious Palmblad,--author of +several popular books, including the well-known novel 'Aurora +Königsmark.' This society soon assumed the name of the Aurora League, +and set itself to free Swedish literature from French influence. The +means chosen were the study of German romanticism, and a treatment of +the higher branches of literature in direct opposition to the course +decreed by the Academical school. The leaders of this revolution were +Atterbom, eighteen years old, and Palmblad, twenty! + +The first organ of the League was the Polyfem, soon replaced by the +Phosphorus (1810-1813), from which the young enthusiasts received their +sobriquet of "Phosphorists." Theoretically this sheet was given to the +discussion of Schelling's philosophy, and of metaphysical problems in +general; practically, to the publication of the original poetry of the +new school. The Phosphorists did a good work in calling attention to the +old Swedish folk-lore, and awakening a new interest in its imaginative +treasures. But their best service lay in their forcible and earnest +treatment of religious questions, which at that time were most +superficially dealt with. + +When the 'Phosphorus' was in its third year the Romanticists united in +bringing out two new organs: the Poetical Calendar (1812-1822), which +published poetry only, and the Swedish Literary News (1813-1824), +containing critical essays of great scientific value. The Phosphorists, +who had shown themselves ardent but not always sagacious fighters, now +appeared at their best, and dashed into the controversy which was +engaging the attention of the Swedish reading public. This included not +only literature, but philosophy and religion, as well as art. The odds +were now on one side, now on the other. The Academicians might easily +have conquered their youthful opponents, however, had not their +bitterness continually forged new weapons against themselves. In 1820 +the Phosphorists wrote the excellent satire, 'Marskall's Sleepless +Nights,' aimed at Wallmark, leader of the Academicians. Gradually the +strife died out, and the man who carried off the palm, and for a time +became the leader of Swedish poetry, was Tegnèr, who was hardly a +partisan of either side. + +In 1817 Atterbom had gone abroad, broken down in health by his +uninterrupted studies. While in Germany he entered into a warm +friendship with Schelling and Steffens, and in Naples he met the Danish +sculptor Thorwaldsen, to whose circle of friends he became attached. On +his return he was made tutor of German and literature to the Crown +Prince. In 1828 the Chair of Logics and Metaphysics at Upsala was +offered him, and he held this for seven years, when he exchanged it for +that of Aesthetics. In 1839 he was elected a member of the Academy whose +bitterest enemy he had been, and so the peace was signed. + +Atterbom is undoubtedly the greatest lyrical poet in the ranks of the +Phosphorists. His verses are wonderfully melodious and full of charm, in +spite of the fact that his tendency to the mystical at times makes him +obscure. Among the best of his productions are a cycle of lyrics +entitled 'The Flowers'; 'The Isle of Blessedness,' a romantic drama of +great beauty, published in 1823; and a fragment of a fairy drama, 'The +Blue Bird.' He introduced the sonnet into Swedish poetry, and did a +great service to the national literature by his critical work, 'Swedish +Seers and Poets,' a collection of biographies and criticisms of poets +and philosophers before and during the reign of Gustavus III. Atterbom's +life may be accounted long in the way of service, though he died at the +age of sixty-five. + + +THE GENIUS OF THE NORTH + +It is true that our Northern nature is lofty and strong. Its +characteristics may well awaken deep meditation and emotion. When the +Goddess of Song has grown up in these surroundings, her view of life is +like that mirrored in our lakes, where, between the dark shadows of +mountain and trees on the shore, a light-blue sky looks down. Over this +mirror the Northern morning and the Northern day, the Northern evening +and the Northern night, rise in a glorious beauty. Our Muse kindles a +lofty hero's flame, a lofty seer's flame, and always the flame of a +lofty immortality. In this sombre North we experience an immense +joyousness and an immense melancholy, moods of earth-coveting and of +earth-renunciation. With equal mind we behold the fleet, charming dream +of her summers, her early harvest with its quickly falling splendor, and +the darkness and silence of the long winter's sleep. For if the gem-like +green of the verdure proclaims its short life, it proclaims at the same +time its richness,--and in winter the very darkness seems made to let +the starry vault shine through with a glory of Valhalla and Gimle. +Indeed, in our North, the winter possesses an impressiveness, a +freshness, which only we Norsemen understand. Add to these strong +effects of nature the loneliness of life in a wide tract of land, +sparingly populated by a still sparingly educated people, and then think +of the poet's soul which must beat against these barriers of +circumstance and barriers of spirit! Yet the barriers that hold him in +as often help as hinder his striving. These conditions explain what our +literature amply proves; that so far, the only poetical form which has +reached perfection in Sweden is the lyrical. This will be otherwise only +as the northern mind, through a growing familiarity with contemporaneous +Europe, will consent to be drawn from its forest solitude into the whirl +of the motley World's Fair outside its boundaries. It is probable that +the lyrical gift will always be the true possession of the Swedish poet. +His genius is such that it needs only a beautiful moment's exaltation +(blissful, whether the experience be called joy or sorrow) to rise on +full, free wings, suddenly singing out his very inmost being. Whether +the poet makes this inmost being his subject, or quite forgets himself +in a richer and higher theme, is of little consequence. + +If, again, no true lyric can express a narrow egoism, least of all could +the Swedish, in spite of the indivisible relation between nature and +man. The entire Sämunds-Edda shows us that Scandinavian poetry was +originally lyrical-didactic, as much religious as heroic. Not only in +lyrical impression, but also in lyrical contemplation and lyrical +expression, will the Swedish heroic poem still follow its earliest +trend. Yes, let us believe that this impulse will some day lead Swedish +poetry into the only path of true progress, to the point where dramatic +expression will attain perfection of artistic form. This development is +foreshadowed already in the high tragic drama, in the view of the world +taken by the old Swedish didactic poem; and in some of the songs of the +Edda, as well as in many an old folk-song and folk-play. + + + THE LILY OF THE VALLEY + + O'er hill and dale the welcome news is flying + That summer's drawing near; + Out of my thicket cool, my cranny hidden, + Around I shyly peer. + + He will not notice me, this guest resplendent, + Unseen I shall remain, + Content to live if of his banquet royal + Some glimpses I may gain. + + Behold! Behold! His banquet hall's before me, + Pillared with forest trees; + Lo! as he feasts, a thousand sunbeams sparkle, + His gracious smiles are these. + + Hail to thee, brilliant world! Ye heavens fretted + With clouds of silver hue! + Ye waves of mighty ocean, tossing, tossing, + Fair in my sight as new! + + Far in the past (if years my life has numbered, + Ghost-like in thought they drift), + Came to me silently the truth eternal-- + Joy is life's richest gift. + + Thus, in return for life's abundant dower, + A gift have I: I bear + A spotless soul, from whose unseen recesses + Exhales a fragrance rare. + + Strong is the power in gentle souls indwelling, + Born of a joy divine; + Theirs is a sphere untrod by creatures earthly, + By beings gross, supine. + + Fragile and small, and set in quiet places, + My worth should I forget? + Some one who seeks friend, counselor, or lover, + Will find and prize me yet. + + Thou lovely maid, through mossy pathways straying, + Striving to make thy choice, + Hearing the while the brook which downward leaping, + Lifts up its merry voice, + Pluck me; and as a rich reward I'll whisper + Things them wilt love to hear: + The name of him who comes to win thy favor + I'll whisper in thine ear! + + + SVANHVIT'S COLLOQUY + + From 'The Islands of the Blest' + + SVANHVIT (alone in her chamber) + + No Asdolf yet,--in vain and everywhere + Hath he been sought for, since his foaming steed, + At morn, with vacant saddle, stood before + The lofty staircase in the castle yard. + His drooping crest and wildly rolling eye, + And limbs with frenzied terror quivering, + All seemed as though the midnight fiends had urged + His swiftest flight through many a wood and plain. + O Lord, that know'st what he hath witnessed there! + Wouldst thou but give one single speaking sound + Unto the faithful creature's silent tongue, + That momentary voice would be, for me, + A call to life or summons to the grave. + + [She goes to the window.] + + And yet what childish fears are these! How oft + Hath not my Asdolf boldest feats achieved + And aye returned, unharmed and beautiful! + Yes, beautiful, alas! like this cold flower + That proudly glances on the frosty pane. + Short is the violet's, short the cowslip's spring;-- + The frost-flowers live far longer: cold as they + The beautiful should be, that it may share + The splendor of the light without its heat; + For else the sun of life must soon dissolve + The hard, cold, shining pearls to liquid tears; + And tears--flow fast away. + + [She breathes on the window.] + + Become transparent, thou fair Asdolf flower, + That I may look into the vale beneath! + There lies the city,--Asdolf's capital: + How wondrously the spotless vest of snow + On roof, on mount, on market-place now smiles + A glittering welcome to the morning sun, + Whose blood-red beams shed beauty on the earth! + The Bride of Sacrifice makes no lament, + But smiles in silence,--knowing sadly well + That she is slighted, and that he, who could + Call forth her spring, doth not, but rather dwells + In other climes, where lavishly he pours + His fond embracing beams, while she, alas! + In wintry shade and lengthened loneliness + Cold on the solitary couch reclines.-- + + [After a pause.] + + What countless paths wind down, from divers points, + To yonder city gates!--Oh, wilt not thou, + My star, appear to me on one of them? + Whate'er I said,--thou art my worshiped sun. + Then pardon me;--thou art not cold; oh, no! + Too warm, too glowing warm, art thou for me. + + Yet thus it is! Thy being's music has + A thousand chords with thousand varying tones, + Whilst I but one poor sound can offer thee + Of tenderness and truth. At times, indeed, + This too may have its power,--but then it lasts + One and the same forever, sounding still + Unalterably like itself alone; + A wordless prayer to God for what we love, + 'Tis more a whisper than a sound, and charms + Like new-mown meadows, when the grass exhales + Sweet fragrance to the foot that tramples it. + + Kings, heroes, towering spirits among men, + Rush to their aim on wild and stormy wings, + And far beneath them view the world, whose form + For ever varies on from hour to hour. + What would they ask of love? That, volatile, + In changeful freshness it may charm their ears + With proud, triumphant songs, when high in air + Victorious banners wave; or sweetly lull + To rapturous repose, when round them roars + The awful thunder's everlasting voice! + + Mute, mean, and spiritless to them must seem + The maid who is no more than woman. How + Should she o'er-sound the storm their wings have raised? + + [Sitting down.] + + Great Lord! how lonely I become within + These now uncheerful towers! O'er all the earth + No shield have I,--no mutual feeling left! + Tis true that those around me all are kind, + And well I know they love me,--more, indeed, + Than my poor merits claim. Yet, even though + They raised me to my Asdolf's royal throne, + As being the last of all his line,--ah me! + No solace could it bring;--for then far less + Might I reveal the sorrow of my soul! + A helpless maiden's tears like raindrops fall, + Which in a July night, ere harvest-time, + Bedew the flowers, and, trembling, stand within + Their half-closed eyes unnumbered and unknown. + + [She rises.] + + Yet One there is, who counts the maiden's tears;-- + But when will their sad number be fulfilled?-- + + [Walking to and fro.] + + How calm was I in former days!--I now + Am so no more! My heart beats heavily, + Oppressed within its prison-cave. Ah! fain + Would I that it might burst its bonds, so that + 'Twere conscious, Asdolf, I sometimes had seemed + Not all unworthy in thine eyes. + + [She takes the guitar.] + + A gentle friend--the Master from Vallandia-- + Has taught me how I may converse with thee, + Thou cherished token of my Asdolf's love! + I have been told of far-off lakes, around + Whose shores the cypress and the willow wave, + And make a mournful shade above the stream. + Which, dark, and narrow on the surface, swells + Broad and unfathomably deep below;-- + From these dark lakes at certain times, and most + On Sabbath morns and eves of festivals. + Uprising from the depths, is heard a sound + Most strange and wild, as of the tuneful bells + Of churches and of castles long since sunk; + And as the wanderer's steps approach the shore, + He hears more plainly the lamenting tone + Of the dark waters, whilst the surface still + Continues motionless and calm, and seems + To listen with a melancholy joy, + While thus the dim mysterious depths resound; + So let me strive to soften and subdue + My heart's dark swelling with a soothful song. + + [She plays and sings.] + + The maiden bound her hunting-net + At morning fresh and fair-- + + Ah, no! that lay doth ever make me grieve. + Another, then! that of the hapless flower, + Surprised by frost and snow in early spring. + + [Sings.] + + Hush thee, oh, hush thee, + Slumber from snow and stormy sky, + Lovely and lone one! + Now is the time for thee to die, + When vale and streamlet frozen lie. + Hush thee, oh, hush thee! + + Hours hasten onward;-- + For thee the last will soon be o'er. + Rest thee, oh, rest thee! + Flowers have withered thus before,-- + And, my poor heart, what wouldst thou more? + Rest thee, oh, rest thee! + + Shadows should darkly + Enveil thy past delights and woes. + Forget, oh, forget them! + 'Tis thus that eve its shadows throws; + But now, in noiseless night's repose, + Forget, oh, forget them! + + Slumber, oh, slumber! + No friend hast thou like kindly snow; + Sleep is well for thee, + For whom no second spring will blow; + Then why, poor heart, still beating so? + Slumber, oh, slumber! + + Hush thee, oh, hush thee! + Resign thy life-breath in a sigh, + Listen no longer, + Life bids farewell to thee,--then die! + Sad one, good night!--in sweet sleep lie! + Hush thee, oh, hush thee! + + [She bursts into tears.] + + Would now that I might bid adieu to life; + But, ah! no voice to me replies, "Sleep well!" + + + THE MERMAID + + Leaving the sea, the pale moon lights the strand. + Tracing old runes, a youth inscribes the sand. + And by the rune-ring waits a woman fair, + Down to her feet extends her dripping hair. + + Woven of lustrous pearls her robes appear, + Thin as the air and as the water clear. + Lifting her veil with milk-white hand she shows + Eyes in whose deeps a deadly fire glows. + + Blue are her eyes: she looks upon him--bound, + As by a spell, he views their gulf profound. + Heaven and death are there: in his desire, + He feels the chill of ice, the heat of fire. + + Graciously smiling, now she whispers low:-- + "The runes are dark, would you their meaning know? + Follow! my dwelling is as dark and deep; + You, you alone, its treasure vast shall keep!" + + "Where is your dwelling, charming maid, now say!" + "Built on a coral island far away, + Crystalline, golden, floats that castle free, + Meet for a lovely daughter of the sea!" + + Still he delays and muses, on the strand; + Now the alluring maiden grasps his hand. + "Ah! Do you tremble, you who were so bold?" + "Yes, for the heaving breakers are so cold!" + + "Let not the mounting waves your spirit change! + Take, as a charm, my ring with sea-runes strange. + Here is my crown of water-lilies white, + Here is my harp, with human bones bedight." + + * * * * * + + "What say my Father and my Mother dear? + What says my God, who bends from heaven to hear?" + "Father and Mother in the churchyard lie. + As for thy God, he deigns not to reply." + + Blithely she dances on the pearl-strewn sand, + Smiting the bone-harp with her graceful hand. + Fair is her bosom, through her thin robe seen, + White as a swan beheld through rushes green, + + "Follow me, youth! through ocean deeps we'll rove; + There is my castle in its coral grove; + There the red branches purple shadows throw, + There the green waves, like grass, sway to and fro, + + * * * * * + + "I have a thousand sisters; none so fair. + He whom I wed receives my sceptre rare. + Wisdom occult my mother will impart. + Granting his slightest wish, I'll cheer his heart." + + * * * * * + + "Heaven and earth to win you I abjure! + Child of the ocean, is your promise sure?" + "Heaven and earth abjuring, great's your gain, + Throned with the ancient gods, a king to reign!" + + Lo, as she speaks, a thousand starlights gleam, + Lighted for Heaven's Christmas day they seem. + Sighing, he swears the oath,--the die is cast; + Into the mermaid's arms he sinks at last. + + * * * * * + + High on the shore the rushing waves roll in. + "Why does the color vary on your skin? + What! From your waist a fish's tail depends!" + "Worn for the dances of my sea-maid friends." + + High overhead, the stars, like torches, burn: + "Haste! to my golden castle I return. + Save me, ye runes!"--"Yes, try them now; they fail. + Pupil of _heathen_ men, my spells prevail!" + + Proudly she turns; her sceptre strikes the wave, + Roaring, it parts; the ocean yawns, a grave. + Mermaid and youth go down; the gulf is deep. + Over their heads the surging waters sweep. + + Often, on moonlight nights, when bluebells ring, + When for their sports the elves are gathering, + Out of the waves the youth appears, and plays + Tunes that are merry, mournful, like his days. + + + + +AUCASSIN AND NICOLLETE + +(Twelfth Century) + +BY FREDERICK MORRIS WARREN + + +This charming tale of medieval France has reached modern times in but +one manuscript, which is now in the National Library at Paris. It gives +us no hint as to the time and place of the author, but its linguistic +forms would indicate for locality the borderland of Champagne and +Picardy, while the fact that the verse of the story is in assonance +would point to the later twelfth century as the date of the original +draft. It would thus be contemporaneous with the last poems of Chrétien +de Troyes (1170-80). The author was probably a minstrel by profession, +but one of more than ordinary taste and talent. For, evidently skilled +in both song and recitation, he so divided his narrative between poetry +and prose that he gave himself ample opportunity to display his powers, +while at the same time he retained more easily, by this variety, the +attention of his audience. He calls his invention--if his invention it +be--a "song-story." The subject he drew probably from reminiscences of +the widely known story of Floire and Blanchefleur; reversing the parts, +so that here it is the hero who is the Christian, while the heroine is a +Saracen captive baptized in her early years. The general outline of the +plot also resembles indistinctly the plot of Floire and Blanchefleur, +though its topography is somewhat indefinite, and a certain amount of +absurd adventure in strange lands is interwoven with it. With these +exceptions, however, few literary productions of the Middle Ages can +rival 'Aucassin and Nicolette' in graceful sentiment and sympathetic +description. + +The Paris manuscript gives the music for the poetical parts,--music that +is little more than a modulation. There is a different notation for the +first two lines, but for the other lines this notation is repeated in +couplets, except that the last line of each song or _laisse_--being a +half-line--has a cadence of its own. The lines are all seven syllables +in length, save the final half-lines, and the assonance, which all but +the half-lines observe, tends somewhat towards rhyme. + +The story begins with a song which serves as prologue; and then its +prose takes up the narrative, telling how Aucassin, son of Garin, Count +of Beaucaire, so loved Nicolette, a Saracen maiden, who had been sold to +the Viscount of Beaucaire, baptized and adopted by him, that he had +forsaken knighthood and chivalry and even refused to defend his +father's territories against Count Bougart of Valence. Accordingly his +father ordered the Viscount to send away Nicolette, and he walled her up +in a tower of his palace. Later, Aucassin is imprisoned by his father. +But Nicolette escapes, hears him lamenting in his cell, and comforts him +until the warden on the tower warns her of the approach of the town +watch. She flees to the forest outside the gates, and there, in order to +test Aucassin's fidelity, builds a rustic tower. When he is released +from prison, Aucassin hears from shepherd lads of Nicolette's +hiding-place, and seeks her bower. The lovers, united, resolve to leave +the country. They take ship and are driven to the kingdom of Torelore, +whose queen they find in child-bed, while the king is with the army. +After a three years' stay in Torelore they are captured by Saracen +pirates and separated. Contrary winds blow Aucassin's boat to Beaucaire, +where he succeeds to Garin's estate, while Nicolette is carried to +Carthage. The sight of the city reminds her that she is the daughter of +its king, and a royal marriage is planned for her. But she avoids this +by assuming a minstrel's garb, and setting sail for Beaucaire. There, +before Aucassin, she sings of her own adventures, and in due time makes +herself known to him. Now in one last strain our story-teller celebrates +the lovers' meeting, concluding with-- + + "Our song-story comes to an end, + I know no more to tell." + +And thus he takes leave of the gentle and courageous maiden. + +The whole account of these trials and reunions does not occupy over +forty pages of the original French, which has been best edited by H. +Suchier at Paderborn (second edition, 1881). In 1878, A. Bida published, +with illustrations, a modern French version of the story at Paris, +accompanied by the original text and a preface by Gaston Paris. This +version was translated into English by A. Rodney Macdonough under the +title of 'The Lovers of Provence: Aucassin and Nicolette' (New York, +1880). Additional illustrations by American artists found place in this +edition. F.W. Bourdillon has published the original text and an English +version, together with an exhaustive introduction, bibliography, notes, +and glossary (London, 1887), and, later in the same year, Andrew Lang +wrote out another translation, accompanied by an introduction and notes: +'Aucassin and Nicolette' (London). The extracts given below are from +Lang's version, with occasional slight alterations. + +[Illustration: Signature: F.M. WARREN] + + + 'TIS OF AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE + + Who would list to the good lay, + Gladness of the captive gray? + 'Tis how two young lovers met, + Aucassin and Nicolette; + Of the pains the lover bore, + And the perils he outwore, + For the goodness and the grace + Of his love, so fair of face. + + Sweet the song, the story sweet, + There is no man hearkens it, + No man living 'neath the sun, + So outwearied, so fordone, + Sick and woeful, worn and sad, + But is healed, but is glad, + 'Tis so sweet. + + So say they, speak they, tell they The Tale, + +How the Count Bougart of Valence made war on Count Garin of +Beaucaire,--war so great, so marvelous, and so mortal that never a day +dawned but alway he was there, by the gates and walls and barriers of +the town, with a hundred knights, and ten thousand men-at-arms, horsemen +and footmen: so burned he the Count's land, and spoiled his country, and +slew his men. Now, the Count Garin of Beaucaire was old and frail, and +his good days were gone over. No heir had he, neither son nor daughter, +save one young man only; such an one as I shall tell you. Aucassin was +the name of the damoiseau: fair was he, goodly, and great, and featly +fashioned of his body and limbs. His hair was yellow, in little curls, +his eyes blue-gray and laughing, his face beautiful and shapely, his +nose high and well set, and so richly seen was he in all things good, +that in him was none evil at all. But so suddenly was he overtaken of +Love, who is a great master, that he would not, of his will, be a +knight, nor take arms, nor follow tourneys, nor do whatsoever him +beseemed. Therefore his father and mother said to him:-- + + "Son, go take thine arms, mount thine horse, and hold thy + land, and help thy men, for if they see thee among them, more + stoutly will they keep in battle their lives and lands, and + thine and mine." + + "Father," answered Aucassin, "what are you saying now? Never + may God give me aught of my desire, if I be a knight, or + mount my horse, or face stour and battle wherein knights + smite and are smitten again, unless thou give me Nicolette, + my true love, that I love so well." + + "Son," said the father, "this may not be. Let Nicolette go. A + slave girl is she, out of a strange land, and the viscount of + this town bought her of the Saracens, and carried her hither, + and hath reared her and had her christened, and made her his + god-daughter, and one day will find a young man for her, to + win her bread honorably. Herein hast thou naught to make nor + mend; but if a wife thou wilt have, I will give thee the + daughter of a king, or a count. There is no man so rich in + France, but if thou desire his daughter, thou shall + have her." + + "Faith! my father," said Aucassin, "tell me where is the + place so high in all the world, that Nicolette, my sweet lady + and love, would not grace it well? If she were Empress of + Constantinople or of Germany, or Queen of France or England, + it were little enough for her; so gentle is she and + courteous, and debonnaire, and compact of all good + qualities." + + +IMPRISONMENT OF NICOLETTE + +When Count Garin of Beaucaire knew that he would not avail to withdraw +Aucassin, his son, from the love of Nicolette, he went to the viscount +of the city, who was his man, and spake to him saying:--"Sir Count: away +with Nicolette, thy daughter in God; cursed be the land whence she was +brought into this country, for by reason of her do I lose Aucassin, that +will neither be a knight, nor do aught of the things that fall to him to +be done. And wit ye well," he said, "that if I might have her at my +will, I would burn her in a fire, and yourself might well be +sore adread." + +"Sir," said the Viscount, "this is grievous to me that he comes and goes +and hath speech with her. I had bought the maid at mine own charges, and +nourished her, and baptized, and made her my daughter in God. Yea, I +would have given her to a young man that should win her bread honorably. +With this had Aucassin, thy son, naught to make or mend. But sith it is +thy will and thy pleasure, I will send her into that land and that +country where never will he see her with his eyes." + +"Have a heed to thyself," said the Count Garin: "thence might great +evil come on thee." + +So parted they each from the other. Now the Viscount was a right rich +man: so had he a rich palace with a garden in face of it; in an upper +chamber thereof he had Nicolette placed, with one old woman to keep her +company, and in that chamber put bread and meat and wine and such things +as were needful. Then he had the door sealed, that none might come in or +go forth, save that there was one window, over against the garden, and +quite strait, through which came to them a little air. + +_Here singeth one_:-- + Nicolette as ye heard tell + Prisoned is within a cell + That is painted wondrously + With colors of a far countrie. + At the window of marble wrought, + There the maiden stood in thought, + With straight brows and yellow hair, + Never saw ye fairer fair! + On the wood she gazed below, + And she saw the roses blow, + Heard the birds sing loud and low, + Therefore spoke she woefully: + "Ah me, wherefore do I lie + Here in prison wrongfully? + Aucassin, my love, my knight, + Am I not thy heart's delight? + Thou that lovest me aright! + 'Tis for thee that I must dwell + In this vaulted chamber cell, + Hard beset and all alone! + By our Lady Mary's Son + Here no longer will I wonn, + If I may flee!" + + +AUCASSIN AND THE VISCOUNT + +[_The Viscount speaks first_] + +"Plentiful lack of comfort hadst thou got thereby; for in Hell would thy +soul have lain while the world endures, and into Paradise wouldst thou +have entered never." + +"In Paradise what have I to win? Therein I seek not to enter, but only +to have Nicolette, my sweet lady that I love so well. For into Paradise +go none but such folk as I shall tell thee now: Thither go these same +old priests, and halt old men and maimed, who all day and night cower +continually before the altars, and in these old crypts; and such folks +as wear old amices, and old clouted frocks, and naked folks and +shoeless, and those covered with sores, who perish of hunger and thirst, +and of cold, and of wretchedness. These be they that go into Paradise; +with them have I naught to make. But into Hell would I fain go; for into +Hell fare the goodly clerks, and goodly knights that fall in tourneys +and great wars, and stout men-at-arms, and the free men. With these +would I liefly go. And thither pass the sweet ladies and courteous, that +have two lovers, or three, and their lords also thereto. Thither goes +the gold, and the silver, and fur of vair, and fur of gris; and there +too go the harpers, and minstrels, and the kings of this world. With +these I would gladly go, let me but have with me Nicolette, my +sweetest lady." + + +AUCASSIN CAPTURES COUNT BOUGART + +The damoiseau was tall and strong, and the horse whereon he sat was +right eager. And he laid hand to sword, and fell a-smiting to right and +left, and smote through helm and nasal, and arm, and clenched hand, +making a murder about him, like a wild boar when hounds fall on him in +the forest, even till he struck down ten knights, and seven he hurt; and +straightway he hurled out of the press, and rode back again at full +speed, sword in hand. Count Bougart of Valence heard it said that they +were to hang Aucassin, his enemy, so he came into that place and +Aucassin was ware of him. He gat his sword into his hand, and struck at +his helm with such a stroke that it drave it down on his head, and he +being stunned, fell groveling. And Aucassin laid hands on him, and +caught him by the nasal of his helmet, and gave him up to his father. + +"Father," quoth Aucassin, "lo, here is your mortal foe, who hath so +warred on you and done you such evil. Full twenty months did this war +endure, and might not be ended by man." + +"Fair son," said his father, "thy feats of youth shouldst them do, and +not seek after folly." + +"Father," saith Aucassin, "sermon me no sermons, but fulfill my +covenant." + +"Ha! what covenant, fair son?" + +"What, father! hast thou forgotten it? By mine own head, whosoever +forgets, will I not forget it, so much it hath me at heart. Didst thou +not covenant with me when I took up arms, and went into the stour, that +if God brought me back safe and sound, thou wouldst let me see +Nicolette, my sweet lady, even so long that I may have of her two words +or three, and one kiss? So didst thou covenant, and my mind is that thou +keep thy word." + +"I?" quoth the father; "God forsake me when I keep this covenant! Nay, +if she were here, I would have burned her in the fire, and thou thyself +shouldst be sore adread." + + +THE LOVERS' MEETING + +Aucassin was cast into prison as ye have heard tell, and Nicolette, of +her part, was in the chamber. Now it was summer-time, the month of May, +when days are warm, and long, and clear, and the nights still and +serene. Nicolette lay one night on her bed, and saw the moon shine clear +through a window, and heard the nightingale sing in the garden, and she +minded her of Aucassin her friend, whom she loved so well. Then fell she +to thoughts of Count Garin of Beaucaire, that he hated her to death; and +therefore deemed she that there she would no longer abide, for that, if +she were told of, and the Count knew where she lay, an ill death he +would make her die. She saw that the old woman was sleeping who held her +company. Then she arose, and clad her in a mantle of silk she had by +her, very goodly, and took sheets of the bed and towels and knotted one +to the other, and made therewith a cord as long as she might, and +knotted it to a pillar in the window, and let herself slip down into the +garden; then caught up her raiment in both hands, behind and before, and +kilted up her kirtle, because of the dew that she saw lying deep on the +grass, and so went on her way down through the garden. + +Her locks were yellow and curled, her eyes blue-gray and smiling, her +face featly fashioned, the nose high and fairly set, the lips more red +than cherry or rose in time of summer, her teeth white and small; and +her breasts so firm that they bore up the folds of her bodice as they +had been two walnuts; so slim was she in the waist that your two hands +might have clipped her; and the daisy flowers that brake beneath her as +she went tiptoe, and that bent above her instep, seemed black against +her feet and ankles, so white was the maiden. She came to the +postern-gate, and unbarred it, and went out through the streets of +Beaucaire, keeping always on the shadowy side, for the moon was shining +right clear, and so wandered she till she came to the tower where her +lover lay. The tower was flanked with pillars, and she cowered under one +of them, wrapped in her mantle. Then thrust she her head through a +crevice of the tower, that was old and worn, and heard Aucassin, who was +weeping within, and making dole and lament for the sweet friend he loved +so well. And when she had listened to him some time she began to say:-- + +_Here one singeth_:-- + + Nicolette, the bright of brow, + On a pillar leaned now, + All Aucassin's wail did hear + For his love that was so dear, + Then the maid spake low and clear:-- + "Gentle knight, withouten fear, + Little good befalleth thee, + Little help of sigh or tear. + Ne'er shalt thou have joy of me. + Never shalt thou win me; still + Am I held in evil will + Of thy father and thy kin. + Therefore must I cross the sea, + And another land must win." + Then she cut her curls of gold, + Cast them in the dungeon hold, + Aucassin doth clasp them there, + Kiss'th the curls that were so fair, + Them doth in his bosom bear, + Then he wept, e'en as of old, + All for his love! + + Thus say they, speak they, tell they The Tale. + +When Aucassin heard Nicolette say that she would pass into a far +country, he was all in wrath. + +"Fair, sweet friend," quoth he, "thou shalt not go, for then wouldst +thou be my death. And the first man that saw thee and had the might +withal, would take thee straightway into his bed to be his leman. And +once thou earnest into a man's bed, and that bed not mine, wit ye well +that I would not tarry till I had found a knife to pierce my heart and +slay myself. Nay, verily, wait so long I would not; but would hurl +myself so far as I might see a wall, or a black stone, and I would dash +my head against it so mightily that the eyes would start and my brain +burst. Rather would I die even such a death than know that thou hadst +lain in a man's bed, and that bed not mine." + +"Aucassin," she said, "I trow thou lovest me not as much as thou sayest, +but I love thee more than thou lovest me." + +"Ah, fair, sweet friend," said Aucassin, "it may not be that thou +shouldest love me even as I love thee. Woman may not love man as man +loves woman; for a woman's love lies in her eye, and the bud of her +breast, and her foot's tiptoe, but the love of a man is in his heart +planted, whence it can never issue forth and pass away." + +Now when Aucassin and Nicolette were holding this parley together, the +town's watchmen were coming down a street, with swords drawn beneath +their cloaks, for Count Garin had charged them that if they could take +her, they should slay her. But the sentinel that was on the tower saw +them coming, and heard them speaking of Nicolette as they went, and +threatening to slay her. + +"God," quoth he, "this were great pity to slay so fair a maid! Right +great charity it were if I could say aught to her, and they perceive it +not, and she should be on her guard against them, for if they slay her, +then were Aucassin, my damoiseau, dead, and that were great pity." + +_Here one singeth_:-- + + Valiant was the sentinel, + Courteous, kind, and practiced well, + So a song did sing and tell, + Of the peril that befell. + "Maiden fair that lingerest here, + Gentle maid of merry cheer, + Hair of gold, and eyes as clear + As the water in a mere, + Thou, meseems, hast spoken word + To thy lover and thy lord, + That would die for thee, his dear; + Now beware the ill accord + Of the cloaked men of the sword: + These have sworn, and keep their word, + They will put thee to the sword + Save thou take heed!" + + + NICOLETTE BUILDS HER LODGE + + Nicolette, the bright of brow, + From the shepherds doth she pass + All below the blossomed bough + Where an ancient way there was, + Overgrown and choked with grass, + Till she found the cross-roads where + Seven paths do all way fare; + Then she deemeth she will try, + Should her lover pass thereby, + If he love her loyally. + So she gathered white lilies, + Oak-leaf, that in greenwood is, + Leaves of many a branch, iwis, + Therewith built a lodge of green, + Goodlier was never seen. + Swore by God, who may not lie: + "If my love the lodge should spy, + He will rest a while thereby + If he love me loyally." + Thus his faith she deemed to try, + "Or I love him not, not I, + Nor he loves me!" + + +AUCASSIN, SEEKING NICOLETTE, COMES UPON A COWHERD + +Aucassin fared through the forest from path to path after Nicolette, and +his horse bare him furiously. Think ye not that the thorns him spared, +nor the briars, nay, not so, but tare his raiment, that scarce a knot +might be tied with the soundest part thereof, and the blood spurted from +his arms, and flanks, and legs, in forty places, or thirty, so that +behind the Childe men might follow on the track of his blood in the +grass. But so much he went in thoughts of Nicolette, his lady sweet, +that he felt no pain nor torment, and all the day hurled through the +forest in this fashion nor heard no word of her. And when he saw vespers +draw nigh, he began to weep for that he found her not. All down an old +road, and grass-grown, he fared, when anon, looking along the way before +him, he saw such an one as I shall tell you. Tall was he, and great of +growth, ugly and hideous: his head huge, and blacker than charcoal, and +more than the breadth of a hand between his two eyes; and he had great +cheeks, and a big nose and flat, big nostrils and wide, and thick lips +redder than steak, and great teeth yellow and ugly, and he was shod with +hosen and shoon of ox-hide, bound with cords of bark up over the knee, +and all about him a great cloak two-fold; and he leaned upon a grievous +cudgel, and Aucassin came unto him, and was afraid when he beheld him. + + +AUCASSIN FINDS NICOLETTE'S LODGE + +So they parted from each other, and Aucassin rode on; the night was fair +and still, and so long he went that he came to the lodge of boughs that +Nicolette had builded and woven within and without, over and under, with +flowers, and it was the fairest lodge that might be seen. When Aucassin +was ware of it, he stopped suddenly, and the light of the moon +fell therein. + +"Forsooth!" quoth Aucassin, "here was Nicolette, my sweet lady, and this +lodge builded she with her fair hands. For the sweetness of it, and for +love of her, will I now alight, and rest here this night long." + +He drew forth his foot from the stirrup to alight, and the steed was +great and tall. He dreamed so much on Nicolette, his right sweet friend, +that he fell heavily upon a stone, and drave his shoulder out of its +place. Then knew he that he was hurt sore; nathless he bore him with +that force he might, and fastened his horse with the other hand to a +thorn. Then turned he on his side, and crept backwise into the lodge of +boughs. And he looked through a gap in the lodge and saw the stars in +heaven, and one that was brighter than the rest; so began he to say:-- + +_Here one singeth_:-- + + "Star, that I from far behold, + Star the moon calls to her fold, + Nicolette with thee doth dwell, + My sweet love, with locks of gold. + God would have her dwell afar, + Dwell with him for evening star. + Would to God, whate'er befell, + Would that with her I might dwell. + I would clip her close and strait; + Nay, were I of much estate, + Some king's son desirable, + Worthy she to be my mate, + Me to kiss and clip me well, + Sister, sweet friend!" + + So speak they, say they, tell they The Tale. + +When Nicolette heard Aucassin, she came to him, for she was not far +away. She passed within the lodge, and threw her arms about his neck, +clipped him and kissed him. + +"Fair, sweet friend, welcome be thou!" + +"And thou, fair, sweet love, be thou welcome!" + +So either kissed and clipped the other, and fair joy was them between. + +"Ha! sweet love," quoth Aucassin, "but now was I sore hurt, and my +shoulder wried, but I take no heed of it, nor have no hurt therefrom, +since I have thee." + +Right so felt she his shoulder and found it was wried from its place. +And she so handled it with her white hands, and so wrought in her +surgery, that by God's will who loveth lovers, it went back into its +place. Then took she flowers, and fresh grass, and leaves green, and +bound them on the hurt with a strip of her smock, and he was all healed. + + +NICOLETTE SAILS TO CARTHAGE + +When all they of the court heard her speak thus, that she was daughter +to the king of Carthage, they knew well that she spake truly; so made +they great joy of her, and led her to the castle with great honor, as a +king's daughter. And they would have given her to her lord a king of +Paynim, but she had no mind to marry. There dwelt she three days or +four. And she considered by what device she might seek far Aucassin. +Then she got her a viol, and learned to play on it; till they would have +married her one day to a rich king of Paynim, and she stole forth by +night, and came to the seaport, and dwelt with a poor woman thereby. +Then took she a certain herb, and therewith smeared her head and her +face, till she was all brown and stained. And she had a coat, and +mantle, and smock, and breeches made, and attired herself as if she had +been a minstrel. So took she the viol and went to a mariner, and so +wrought on him that he took her aboard his vessel. Then hoisted they +sail, and fared on the high seas even till they came to the land of +Provence. And Nicolette went forth and took the viol, and went playing +through all the country, even till she came to the castle of Beaucaire, +where Aucassin was. + +_Here singeth one_:-- + + At Beaucaire below the tower + Sat Aucassin on an hour, + Heard the bird, and watched the flower, + With his barons him beside. + Then came on him in that tide + The sweet influence of love + And the memory thereof; + Thought of Nicolette the fair, + And the dainty face of her + He had loved so many years. + Then was he in dule and tears! + Even then came Nicolette; + On the stair a foot she set, + And she drew the viol bow + O'er the strings and chanted so:-- + "Listen, lords and knights, to me, + Lords of high or low degree, + To my story list will ye + All of Aucassin and her + That was Nicolette the fair? + And their love was long to tell; + Deep woods through he sought her well: + Paynims took them on a day + In Torelore, and bound they lay. + Of Aucassin naught know we, + But fair Nicolette the free + Now in Carthage doth she dwell; + There her father loves her well, + Who is king of that countrie. + Her a husband hath he found, + Paynim lord that serves Mahound! + Ne'er with him the maid will go, + For she loves a damoiseau, + Aucassin, that ye may know, + Swears to God that never mo + With a lover will she go + Save with him she loveth so + In long desire." + + + + +JOHN JAMES AUDUBON + +(1780-1851) + + +The fame of this celebrated naturalist rests on one magnificent book, +'The Birds of America,' for which all his life may be said to have been +a preparation, and which certainly surpasses in interest every other +ornithological publication. For fifteen years before he thought of +making use of his collections in this way, he annually went alone with +his gun and his drawing materials into deep and unexplored forests and +through wild regions of country, making long journeys on foot and +counting nothing a hardship that added to his specimens. This passion +had controlled him from early childhood. His father, a Frenchman, was +living in New Orleans at the time of Audubon's birth in 1780, and with +the view of helping him in his studies, sent him to Paris when he was +fifteen years old, where he entered the drawing-class of David the +painter. He remained there two years; and it was after his return that +he made his memorable excursions, his home being then a farm at Mill +Grove, near Philadelphia. + +In 1808 he removed with his family to the West, still continuing his +researches. Several years later he returned to Philadelphia with a +portfolio of nearly a thousand colored drawings of birds. What befell +them--a parallel to so many like incidents, as through Warburton's cook, +Newton's dog, Carlyle's friend, and Edward Livingston's fire, that they +seem one of the appointed tests of moral fibre--is best told in +Audubon's own language:-- + +"An accident," he says, "which happened to two hundred of my original +drawings, nearly put a stop to my researches in ornithology. I shall +relate it, merely to show how far enthusiasm--for by no other name can I +call my perseverance--may enable the preserver of nature to surmount the +most disheartening difficulties. I left the village of Henderson, in +Kentucky, situated on the banks of the Ohio, where I resided for several +years, to proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked to my drawings +before my departure, placed them carefully in a wooden box, and gave +them in charge of a relative, with injunctions to see that no injury +should happen to them. My absence was of several months; and when I +returned, after having enjoyed the pleasures of home for a few days, I +inquired after my box, and what I was pleased to call my treasure. The +box was produced and opened; but, reader, feel for me,--a pair of Norway +rats had taken possession of the whole, and reared a young family among +the gnawed bits of paper, which, but a month previous, represented +nearly a thousand inhabitants of air! The burning heat which instantly +rushed through my brain was too great to be endured without affecting +my whole nervous system. I slept not for several nights, and the days +passed like days of oblivion;--until, the animal powers being recalled +into action through the strength of my constitution, I took up my gun, +my note-book, and my pencils, and went forth to the woods as gayly as if +nothing had happened. I felt pleased that I might now make better +drawings than before; and ere a period not exceeding three years had +elapsed, my portfolio was again filled." + +[Illustration: J.J. AUDUBON.] + +In 1826 he sailed for Europe to exhibit his newly collected treasures to +foreign ornithologists. He succeeded in obtaining pecuniary aid in +publishing the work, and plates were made in England. The book was +published in New York in four volumes (elephant folio) in 1830-39. The +birds are life-size. 'The American Ornithological Biography,' which is +the text for the plates, was published in Edinburgh, 1831-39, in five +octavo volumes. Accompanied by his two sons he started on new +excursions, which resulted in 'The Quadrupeds of America,' with a +'Biography of American Quadrupeds,' both published at Philadelphia, +beginning in 1840. During that year he built a house for himself in the +upper part of New York, in what is now called Audubon Park, and died +there January 27th, 1851. + +Audubon's descriptive text is not unworthy of his plates: his works are +far from being mere tenders to picture-books. He is full of enthusiasm, +his descriptions of birds and animals are vivid and realizing, and his +adventures are told with much spirit and considerable literary skill, +though some carelessness of syntax. + + +A DANGEROUS ADVENTURE + +From 'The American Ornithological Biography' + +On my return from the Upper Mississippi, I found myself obliged to cross +one of the wide prairies which, in that portion of the United States, +vary the appearance of the country. The weather was fine, all around me +was as fresh and blooming as if it had just issued from the bosom of +nature. My knapsack, my gun, and my dog, were all I had for baggage and +company. But although well moccasined, I moved slowly along, attracted +by the brilliancy of the flowers, and the gambols of the fawns around +their dams, to all appearance as thoughtless of danger as I felt myself. + +My march was of long duration; I saw the sun sinking beneath the horizon +long before I could perceive any appearance of woodland, and nothing in +the shape of man had I met with that day. The track which I followed was +only an old Indian trace; and, as darkness overshadowed the prairie, I +felt some desire to reach at least a copse, in which I might lie down to +rest. The night-hawks were skimming over and around me, attracted by the +buzzing wings of the beetles which formed their food, and the distant +howling of wolves gave me some hope that I should soon arrive at the +skirts of some woodland. + +I did so, and almost at the same instant a fire-light attracting my eye, +I moved toward it, full of confidence that it proceeded from the camp of +some wandering Indians. I was mistaken. I discovered by its glare that +it was from the hearth of a small log cabin, and that a tall figure +passed and repassed between it and me, as if busily engaged in household +arrangements. + +I reached the spot, and presenting myself at the door, asked the tall +figure, which proved to be a woman, if I might take shelter under her +roof for the night. Her voice was gruff, and her attire negligently +thrown about her. She answered in the affirmative. I walked in, took a +wooden stool, and quietly seated myself by the fire. The next object +that attracted my notice was a finely formed young Indian, resting his +head between his hands, with his elbows on his knees. A long bow rested +against the log wall near him, while a quantity of arrows and two or +three raccoon skins lay at his feet. He moved not; he apparently +breathed not. Accustomed to the habits of the Indians, and knowing that +they pay little attention to the approach of civilized strangers (a +circumstance which in some countries is considered as evincing the +apathy of their character), I addressed him in French, a language not +unfrequently partially known to the people in that neighborhood. He +raised his head, pointed to one of his eyes with his finger, and gave me +a significant glance with the other. His face was covered with blood. +The fact was, that an hour before this, as he was in the act of +discharging an arrow at a raccoon in the top of a tree, the arrow had +split upon the cord, and sprung back with such violence into his right +eye as to destroy it forever. + +Feeling hungry, I inquired what sort of fare I might expect. Such a +thing as a bed was not to be seen, but many large untanned bear and +buffalo hides lay piled in a corner. I drew a fine timepiece from my +breast, and told the woman that it was late, and that I was fatigued. +She had espied my watch, the richness of which seemed to operate upon +her feelings with electric quickness. She told me that there was plenty +of venison and jerked buffalo meat, and that on removing the ashes I +should find a cake. But my watch had struck her fancy, and her curiosity +had to be gratified by an immediate sight of it. I took off the gold +chain that secured it, from around my neck, and presented it to her. She +was all ecstasy, spoke of its beauty, asked me its value, and put the +chain round her brawny neck, saying how happy the possession of such a +watch should make her. Thoughtless, and as I fancied myself, in so +retired a spot, secure, I paid little attention to her talk or her +movements. I helped my dog to a good supper of venison, and was not long +in satisfying the demands of my own appetite. + +The Indian rose from his seat, as if in extreme suffering. He passed me +and repassed me several times, and once pinched me on the side so +violently that the pain nearly brought forth an exclamation of anger. I +looked at him. His eye met mine; but his look was so forbidding that it +struck a chill into the more nervous part of my system. He again seated +himself, drew his butcher-knife from its greasy scabbard, examined its +edge, as I would do that of a razor suspected dull, replaced it, and +again taking his tomahawk from his back, filled the pipe of it with +tobacco, and sent me expressive glances whenever our hostess chanced to +have her back towards us. + +Never until that moment had my senses been awakened to the danger which +I now suspected to be about me. I returned glance for glance to my +companion, and rested well assured that whatever enemies I might have, +he was not of their number. + +I asked the woman for my watch, wound it up, and under pretense of +wishing to see how the weather might probably be on the morrow, took up +my gun, and walked out of the cabin. I slipped a ball into each barrel, +scraped the edges of my flints, renewed the primings, and returning to +the hut, gave a favorable account of my observations. I took a few +bear-skins, made a pallet of them, and calling my faithful dog to my +side, lay down, with my gun close to my body, and in a few minutes was +to all appearance fast asleep. + +A short time had elapsed, when some voices were heard; and from the +corner of my eyes I saw two athletic youths making their entrance, +bearing a dead stag on a pole. They disposed of their burden, and asking +for whisky, helped themselves freely to it. Observing me and the wounded +Indian, they asked who I was, and why the devil that rascal (meaning the +Indian, who, they knew, understood not a word of English) was in the +house. The mother--for so she proved to be--bade them speak less loudly, +made mention of my watch, and took them to a corner, where a +conversation took place, the purport of which it required little +shrewdness in me to guess. I tapped my dog gently. He moved his tail, +and with indescribable pleasure I saw his fine eyes alternately fixed on +me and raised toward the trio in the corner. I felt that he perceived +danger in my situation. The Indian exchanged a last glance with me. + +The lads had eaten and drunk themselves into such condition that I +already looked upon them as _hors tie combat_; and the frequent visits +of the whisky bottle to the ugly mouth of their dam I hoped would soon +reduce her to a like state. Judge of my astonishment, reader, when I saw +this incarnate fiend take a large carving-knife and go to the grindstone +to whet its edge. I saw her pour the water on the turning machine, and +watched her working away with the dangerous instrument, until the cold +sweat covered every part of my body, in spite of my determination to +defend myself to the last. Her task finished, she walked to her reeling +sons, and said, "There, that'll soon settle him! Boys, kill yon--, and +then for the watch." + +I turned, cocked my gunlocks silently, touched my faithful companion, +and lay ready to start up and shoot the first one who might attempt my +life. The moment was fast approaching, and that night might have been my +last in the world, had not Providence made preparations for my rescue. +All was ready. The infernal hag was advancing slowly, probably +contemplating the best way of dispatching me, while her sons should be +engaged with the Indian. I was several times on the point of rising and +shooting her on the spot;--but she was not to be punished thus. The door +was suddenly opened, and there entered two stout travelers, each with a +long rifle on his shoulder. I bounced up on my feet, and making them +most heartily welcome, told them how well it was for me that they should +have arrived at that moment. The tale was told in a minute. The drunken +sons were secured, and the woman, in spite of her defense and +vociferations, shared the same fate. The Indian fairly danced with joy, +and gave us to understand that as he could not sleep for pain, he would +watch over us. You may suppose we slept much less than we talked. The +two strangers gave me an account of their once having been themselves in +a somewhat similar situation. + +Day came, fair and rosy, and with it the punishment of our captives. +They were now quite sobered. Their feet were unbound, but their arms +were still securely tied. We marched them into the woods off the road, +and having used them as Regulators were wont to use such delinquents, we +set fire to the cabin, gave all the skins and implements to the young +Indian warrior, and proceeded, well pleased, towards the settlements. + +During upward of twenty-five years, when my wanderings extended to all +parts of our country, this was the only time at which my life was in +danger from my fellow-creatures. Indeed, so little risk do travelers run +in the United States, that no one born there ever dreams of any to be +encountered on the road, and I can only account for this occurrence by +supposing that the inhabitants of the cabin were not Americans. + +Will you believe, good-natured reader, that not many miles from the +place where this adventure happened, and where fifteen years ago, no +habitation belonging to civilized man was expected, and very few ever +seen, large roads are now laid out, cultivation has converted the woods +into fertile fields, taverns have been erected, and much of what we +Americans call comfort is to be met with! So fast does improvement +proceed in our abundant and free country. + + + + +BERTHOLD AUERBACH + +(1812-1882) + + +The author of 'Black Forest Village Stories' and 'On the Heights' stands +out in honorable individuality among modern German novelists, even if +the latest fashions in fiction make his work already a little +antiquated. Auerbach's biography is one of industry rather than of +incident. His birth was humble. His life was long. He wrote voluminously +and was widely popular, to be half forgotten within a decade after his +death. He may perhaps be reckoned the founder of a contemporary German +school of _tendenz_ novel writers; a school now so much diminished that +Spielhagen--who, however, wears Auerbach's mantle with a difference--is +its only survivor. + +Of Jewish parentage, his birthplace being Nordstetten, Würtemberg +(1812), Auerbach drifted from preparation for the synagogue toward law, +philosophy, and literature. The study of Spinoza (whose works he +translated) gave form to his convictions concerning human life. It led +him to spend his literary talents on materials so various as the homely +simplicity of peasant scenes and peasant souls, on the one hand, and on +the other the popularization of a high social and ethical philosophy, +specially inculcated through his larger fictions. His college education +was obtained at Tübingen, Munich, and Heidelberg. + +Necessity rather than ambition prompted him to write, and he wrote as +long as he lived. A partial list of his works begins with a pseudonymous +'Life of Frederick the Great' (1834-36), and 'Das Judenthum und der +Neuste Literatur' (The Jew Element in Recent Literature: 1836), and +passes to the semi-biographic novel 'Spinoza' (1837), afterward +supplemented with 'Ein Denkerleben' (A Thinker's Life), 'Dichter und +Kaufman' (Poet and Merchant: 1839),--stories belonging to the 'Ghetto +Series,' embodying Jewish and German life in the time of Moses +Mendelssohn; the translation in five volumes of Spinoza's philosophy, +with a critical biography, 1841; and in 1842 another work intended to +popularize philosophy, 'Der Gebildete Bürger: ein Buch für den Denkenden +Menschen' (The Clever Townsman: a Book for Thinking Men). + +[Illustration: BERTHOLD AUERBACH] + +In 1843 came the first set of the famous 'Schwarzwälder Dorfgeschichten' +(Black Forest Village Stories), followed by a second group in 1848. +These won instant and wide favor, and were widely translated. They rank +among the author's most pleasing and successful productions, stamped as +they are with that truth which a writer like Auerbach, or a painter like +Defregger or Schmidt, can express when sitting down to deal with the +scenes and folk which from early youth have been photographed upon his +heart and memory. In 1856 there followed in the same descriptive field +his 'Barfüssele' (Little Barefoot), 'Joseph im Schnee' (Joseph in the +Snow: 1861), and 'Edelweiss' (1861). His writings of this date--tales, +sketches journalistic, political, and dramatic, and other papers--reveal +Auerbach's varying moods or enthusiasms, chronicle his residence in +different German or Austrian cities, and are comparatively insignificant +among his forty or more volumes. Nor is much to be said of his first +long fiction, 'Neues Leben' (New Life). + +But with 'Auf der Höhe' (On the Heights), a philosophic romance of court +life in the capital and the royal country seat of a considerable German +kingdom (by no means merely imaginary), inwoven with a minute study of +peasant life and character, Auerbach's popular reputation was +established. His plan of making ethics the chief end of a novel was here +exhibited at its best; he never again showed the same force of +conception which got his imperfect literary art forgiven. Another long +novel, not less doctrinaire in scope, but dealing with quite different +materials and problems, 'Das Landhaus am Rhein' (The Villa on the +Rhine), was issued in 1868; and was followed by 'Waldfried,' a long, +patriotic, and on the whole inert, study of a German family from 1848 +until the close of the Franco-Prussian War. + +In spite of his untiring industry, Auerbach produced little more of +consequence, though he wrote a new series of Black Forest sketches: +'Nach Dreissig Jahren' (After Thirty Years: 1876); 'Der Forstmeister' +(The Head Forester: 1879); and 'Brigitta' (1880). The close of his life +was much embittered by the growth of the anti-Semitic sentiment; and his +residence in Germany was merely nominal. He died at Cannes, France, +in 1882. + +'On the Heights' is doubtless Auerbach's best representative. 'The Villa +on the Rhine' is in a lower key, with less appealing types, and less +attractive local color. Moreover, it is weighted with more +philosophizing, and its movement is slower. In 'On the Heights' the +emotional situations are strong. In spite of sentimentality, a true +feeling animates its technique. The atmosphere of a German royal +residence, as he reveals it, appears almost as heavy as the real thing. +Auerbach's humor is leaden; he finds it necessary to explain his own +attempts at it. But the peasant-nurse Walpurga, her husband Hansei, and +the aged grandmother in the family, are admirable delineations. The +heroine, Irma von Wildenort, is genuinely human. The story of her abrupt +atonement for a lapse from her better self, the gradual process of her +fantastic expiation and of her self-redemption,--through the deliberate +sacrifice of all that belongs to her treacherous past,--her successful +struggle into a high ethical life and knowledge of herself (the element +which gives the book its force), offer much that is consistent, and +appealing and elevating to the conscience. + +Auerbach crowds material into the book, tangles up too many different +skeins of plot, offers too many types to study and interests to follow, +and betrays a want of perspective in its construction. But in spite of +all its defects it is a novel that should not be forgotten. For +reflective readers it will always hold a charm, and its latent strength +is proved by its triumph over its own faults. + + +THE FIRST MASS + +From "Ivo the Gentleman," in "Black Forest Village Stories" + +One Saturday afternoon the busy sound of hammer and adze was heard on +the green hill-top which served the good folks of Nordstetten as their +open-air gathering-place. Valentine the carpenter, with his two sons, +was making a scaffolding, designed to serve no less a purpose than that +of an altar and a pulpit. Gregory, the son of Christian the tailor, was +to officiate at his first mass and preach his first sermon. + +Ivo, Valentine's youngest son, a child of six years of age, assisted his +father with a mien which betokened that he considered his services +indispensable. With his bare head and feet he ran up and down the +timbers as nimbly as a squirrel. When a beam was being lifted, he cried, +"Pry under!" as lustily as any one, put his shoulder to the crowbar, and +puffed as if nine-tenths of the weight fell upon him. Valentine liked to +see his little boy employed. He would tell him to wind the twine on the +reel, to carry the tools where they were wanted, or to rake the chips +into a heap. Ivo obeyed all these directions with the zeal and devotion +of a self-sacrificing patriot. Once, when he perched upon the end of a +plank for the purpose of weighing it down, the motion of the saw shook +his every limb, and made him laugh aloud in spite of himself; he would +have fallen off but for the eagerness with which he held on to his +position and endeavored to perform his task in the most +workmanlike manner. + +At last the scaffolding was finished. Lewis the saddler was ready to +nail down the carpets and hanging. Ivo offered to help him too; but +being gruffly repelled, he sat down upon his heap of chips, and looked +at the mountains, behind which the sun was setting in a sea of fire. His +father's whistle aroused him, and he ran to his side. + +"Father," said Ivo, "I wish I was in Hochdorf." + +"Why?" + +"Because it's so near to heaven, and I should like to climb up once." + +"You silly boy, it only seems as if heaven began there. From Hochdorf it +is a long way to Stuttgart, and from there it is a long way to +heaven yet. + +"How long?" + +"Well, you can't get there until you die." + +Leading his little son with one hand, and carrying his tools in the +other, Valentine passed through the village. Washing and scouring was +going on everywhere, and chairs and tables stood before the houses,--for +every family expected visitors for the great occasion of the morrow. + +As Valentine passed Christian the tailor's, he held his hand to his cap, +prepared to take it off if anybody should look out. But nobody did so: +the place was silent as a cloister. Some farmers' wives were going in, +carrying bowls covered with their aprons, while others passed out with +empty bowls under their arms. They nodded to each other without +speaking: they had brought wedding-presents for the young clergyman, who +was to be married to his bride--the Church. + +As the vesper-bell rang, Valentine released the hand of his son, who +quickly folded his hands; Valentine also brought his hands together over +his heavy tools and said an Ave. + +Next morning a clear, bright day rose upon the village. Ivo was dressed +by his mother betimes in a new jacket of striped Manchester cloth, with +buttons which he took for silver, and a newly-washed pair of leathern +breeches. He was to carry the crucifix. Gretchen, Ivo's eldest sister, +took him by the hand and led him into the street, "so as to have room in +the house." Having enjoined upon him by no means to go back, she +returned hastily. Wherever he came he found the men standing in knots in +the road. They were but half dressed for the festival, having no coats +on, but displaying their dazzling white shirt-sleeves. Here and there +women or girls were to be seen running from house to house without +bodices, and with their hair half untied. Ivo thought it cruel in his +sister to have pushed him out of the house as she had done. He would +have been delighted to have appeared like the grown folks,--first in +negligee, and then in full dress amid the tolling of bells and the clang +of trumpets; but he did not dare to return, or even to sit down +anywhere, for fear of spoiling his clothes. He went through the village +almost on tiptoe. Wagon after wagon rumbled in, bringing farmers and +farmers' wives from abroad; at the houses people welcomed them, and +brought chairs to assist them in getting down. All the world looked as +exultingly quiet and glad as a community preparing to receive a hero who +had gone forth from their midst and was returning after a victory. From +the church to the hill-top the road was strewn with flowers and grass, +which sent forth aromatic odors. The squire was seen coming out of +Christian the tailor's, and only covered his head when he found himself +in the middle of the street. Soges had a new sword, brightly japanned +and glittering in the sun. + +The squire's wife soon followed, leading her daughter Barbara, who was +but six years old, by the hand. Barbara was dressed in bridal array. She +wore the veil and the wreath upon her head, and a beautiful gown. As an +immaculate virgin, she was intended to represent the bride of the young +clergyman, the Church. + +At the first sound of the bell the people in shirt-sleeves disappeared +as if by magic. They retired to their houses to finish their toilet: Ivo +went on to the church. + +Amid the ringing of all the bells, the procession at last issued from +the church-door. The pennons waved, the band of music brought from Horb +struck up, and the audible prayers of the men and women mingled with the +sound. Ivo, with the schoolmaster at his side, took the lead, carrying +the crucifix. On the hill the altar was finely decorated; the chalices +and the lamps and the spangled dresses of the saints flashed in the sun, +and the throng of worshipers covered the common and the adjoining fields +as far as the eye could reach. Ivo hardly took courage to look at the +"gentleman," meaning the young clergyman, who, in his gold-laced robe, +and bare head crowned with a golden wreath, ascended the steps of the +altar with pale and sober mien, bowing low as the music swelled, and +folding his small white hands upon his breast. The squire's Barbara, who +carried a burning taper wreathed with rosemary, had gone before him and +took her stand at the side of the altar. The mass began; and at the +tinkling of the bell all fell upon their faces, and not a sound would +have been heard, had not a flight of pigeons passed directly over the +altar with that fluttering and chirping noise which always accompanies +their motion through the air. For all the world Ivo would not have +looked up just then; for he knew that the Holy Ghost was descending, to +effect the mysterious transubstantiation of the wine into blood and the +bread into flesh, and that no mortal eye can look upon Him without being +struck with blindness. + +The chaplain of Horb now entered the pulpit, and solemnly addressed the +"permitiant." + +Then the latter took his place. Ivo sat near by, on a stool; with his +right arm resting on his knee, and his chin upon his hand, he listened +attentively. He understood little of the sermon; but his eyes hung upon +the preacher's lips, and his mind followed his intentions if not +his thoughts. + +When the procession returned to the church amid the renewed peal of the +bells and triumphant strains of music, Ivo clasped the crucifix firmly +with both his hands; he felt as if new strength had been given him to +carry his God before him. + +As the crowd dispersed, every one spoke in raptures of the "gentleman" +and of the happiness of the parents of such a son. Christian the tailor +and his wife came down the covered stairs of the church-hill in superior +bliss. Ordinarily they attracted little attention in the village; but on +this occasion all crowded around them with the greatest reverence, to +present their congratulations. + +The young clergyman's mother returned thanks with tearful eyes; she +could scarcely speak for joyous weeping. Ivo heard his cousin, who had +come over from Rexingen, say that Gregory's parents were now obliged to +address their son with the formal pronoun "they," by which strangers and +great personages are spoken to, instead of the simple "thee and thou," +by which German villagers converse with each other. + +"Is that so, mother?" he asked. + +"Of course," was the answer: "he's more than other folks now." + +With all their enthusiasm, the good people did not forget the pecuniary +advantage gained by Christian the tailor. It was said that he need take +no further trouble all his life. Cordele, Gregory's sister, was to be +her brother's housekeeper, and her brother was a fortune to his family +and an honor to all the village. + +Translation of Charles Goepp. + + +The following passages from "On the Heights" are reprinted by consent of +Henry Holt & Co., holders of the copyright of the translation. + + +THE PEASANT-NURSE AND THE PRINCE + +"There, my boy! Now you've seen the sun. May you see it for seven and +seventy years to come, and when they've run their course, may the Lord +grant you a new lease of life. Last night they lit millions of lamps for +your sake. But they were nothing to the sun up in heaven, which the +Lord himself lighted for you this very morning. Be a good boy, always, +so that you may deserve to have the sun shine on you. Yes, now the +angel's whispering to you. Laugh while you sleep! That's right. There's +one angel belongs to you on earth, and that's your mother! And you're +mine, too! You're mine, indeed!" + +Thus spake Walpurga, the nurse, her voice soft, yet full of emotion, +while she gazed into the face of the child that lay in her lap. Her soul +was already swayed by that mysterious bond of affection which never +fails to develop itself in the heart of the foster-mother. It is a noble +trait in human nature, that we love those on whom we can confer a +kindness. Their whole life gradually becomes interwoven with our own. + +Walpurga became oblivious of herself and of all that was dear to her in +the cottage by the lake. She was now needed here, where a young life had +been assigned to her loving-charge. + +She looked up at Mademoiselle Kramer, with beaming eyes, and met a +joyful glance in return. + +"It seems to me," said Walpurga, "that a palace is just like a church. +One has only good and pious thoughts here; and all the people are so +kind and frank." + +Mademoiselle Kramer suddenly smiled and replied:-- + +"My dear child--" + +"Don't call me 'child'! I'm not a child! I'm a mother!" + +"But here, in the great world, you are only a child. A court is a +strange place. Some go hunting, others go fishing; one builds, another +paints; one studies a rôle, another a piece of music; a dancer learns a +new step, an author writes a new book. Every one in the land is doing +something--cooking or baking, drilling or practicing, writing, painting, +or dancing--simply in order that the king and queen may be entertained." + +"I understand you," said Walpurga; and Mademoiselle Kramer continued:-- + +"My family has been in the service of the court for sixteen +generations;"--six would have been the right number, but sixteen sounded +so much better;--"my father is the governor of the summer palace, and I +was born there. I know all about the court, and can teach you a +great deal." + +"And I'll be glad to learn," interposed Walpurga. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Library Of The World's Best +Literature, Ancient And Modern, Vol. 2, by Charles Dudley Warner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE *** + +***** This file should be named 12788-0.txt or 12788-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/7/8/12788/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charlie Kirschner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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