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diff --git a/old/13028-8.txt b/old/13028-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..865a1ea --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13028-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21806 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Library Of The World's Best Literature, +Ancient And Modern, Vol 3, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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 3 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 26, 2004 [EBook #13028] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIBRARY OF THE WORLD'S BEST *** + + + + +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. III. + + + + +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. III + + LIVED +BERTHOLD AUERBACH--_Continued:_ 1812-1882 + The First False Step ('On the Heights') + The New Home and the Old One (same) + The Court Physician's Philosophy (same) + In Countess Irma's Diary (same) + +ÉMILE AUGIER 1820-1889 + A Conversation with a Purpose ('Giboyer's Boy') + A Severe Young Judge ('The Adventuress') + A Contented Idler ('M. Poirier's Son-in-Law') + Feelings of an Artist (same) + A Contest of Wills ('The Fourchambaults') + +ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO (by Samuel Hart) 354-430 + The Godly Sorrow that Worketh Repentance ('The Confessions') + Consolation (same) + The Foes of the City ('The City of God') + The Praise of God (same) + A Prayer ('The Trinity') + +MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS A.D. 121-180 + Reflections + +JANE AUSTEN 1775-1817 + An Offer of Marriage ('Pride and Prejudice') + Mother and Daughter (same) + A Letter of Condolence (same) + A Well-Matched Sister and Brother ('Northanger Abbey') + Family Doctors ('Emma') + Family Training ('Mansfield Park') + Private Theatricals (same) + Fruitless Regrets and Apples of Sodom (same) + +AVERROËS 1126-1198 + +THE AVESTA (by A.V. Williams Jackson) + Psalm of Zoroaster + Prayer for Knowledge + The Angel of Divine Obedience + To the Fire + The Goddess of the Waters + Guardian Spirits + An Ancient Sindbad + The Wise Man + Invocation to Rain + Prayer for Healing + Fragment + +AVICEBRON 1028-?1058 + On Matter and Form ('The Fountain of Life') + +ROBERT AYTOUN 1570-1638 + Inconstancy Upbraided + Lines to an Inconstant Mistress (with Burns's Adaptation) + +WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN 1813-1865 + Burial March of Dundee ('Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers') + Execution of Montrose (same) + The Broken Pitcher ('Bon Gaultier Ballads') + Sonnet to Britain. "By the Duke of Wellington" (same) + A Ball in the Upper Circles ('The Modern Endymion') + A Highland Tramp ('Norman Sinclair') + +MASSIMO TAPARELLI D'AZEGLIO 1798-1866 + A Happy Childhood ('My Recollections') + The Priesthood (same) + My First Venture in Romance (same) + +BABER (by Edward S. Holden) 1482-1530 + From Baber's 'Memoirs' + +BABRIUS First Century A.D. + The North Wind and the Sun + Jupiter and the Monkey + The Mouse that Fell into the Pot + The Fox and the Grapes + The Carter and Hercules + The Young Cocks + The Arab and the Camel + The Nightingale and the Swallow + The Husbandman and the stork + The Pine + The Woman and Her Maid-Servants + The Lamp + The Tortoise and the Hare + +FRANCIS BACON (by Charlton T. Lewis) 1561-1626 + Of Truth ('Essays') + Of Revenge (same) + Of Simulation and Dissimulation (same) + Of Travel (same) + Of Friendship (same) + Defects of the Universities ('The Advancement of Learning') + To My Lord Treasurer Burghley + In Praise of Knowledge + To the Lord Chancellor + To Villiers on his Patent as a Viscount + Charge to Justice Hutton + A Prayer, or Psalm + From the 'Apophthegms' + Translation of the 137th Psalm + The World's a Bubble + +WALTER BAGEHOT (by Forrest Morgan) 1826-1877 + The Virtues of Stupidity ('Letters on the French Coup + d'État') + Review Writing ('The First Edinburgh Reviewers') + Lord Eldon (same) + Taste ('Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning') + Causes of the Sterility of Literature ('Shakespeare') + The Search for Happiness ('William Cowper') + On Early Reading ('Edward Gibbon') + The Cavaliers ('Thomas Babington Macaulay') + Morality and Fear ('Bishop Butler') + The Tyranny of Convention ('Sir Robert Peel') + How to Be an Influential Politician ('Bolingbroke') + Conditions of Cabinet Government ('The English Constitution') + Why Early Societies could not be Free ('Physics and + Politics') + Benefits of Free Discussion in Modern Times (same) + Origin of Deposit Banking ('Lombard Street') + +JENS BAGGESEN 1764-1826 + A Cosmopolitan ('The Labyrinth') + Philosophy on the Heath (same) + There was a Time when I was Very Little + + +PHILIP JAMES BAILEY 1816- + From "Festus": Life: The Passing-Bell; Thoughts; + Dreams; Chorus of the Saved + + +JOANNA BAILLIE 1762-1851 + Woo'd and Married and A' + It Was on a Morn when We were Thrang + Fy, Let Us A' to the Wedding + The Weary Pund o' Tow + From 'De Montfort' + To Mrs. Siddons + A Scotch Song + Song, 'Poverty Parts Good Company' + The Kitten + + +HENRY MARTYN BAIRD 1832- + The Battle of Ivry ('The Huguenots and Henry of Navarre') + + +SIR SAMUEL WHITE BAKER 1821-1893 + Hunting in Abyssinia ('The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia') + The Sources of the Nile ('The Albert Nyanza') + + +ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR 1848- + The Pleasures of Reading (Rectorial Address) + + +THE BALLAD (by F.B. Gummere) + Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne + The Hunting of the Cheviot + Johnie Cock + Sir Patrick Spens + The Bonny Earl of Murray + Mary Hamilton + Bonnie George Campbell + Bessie Bell and Mary Gray + The Three Ravens + Lord Randal + Edward + The Twa Brothers + Babylon + Childe Maurice + The Wife of Usher's Well + Sweet William's Ghost + + +HONORÉ DE BALZAC (by William P. Trent) 1799-1850 + The Meeting in the Convent ('The Duchess of Langeais') + An Episode Under the Terror + A Passion in the Desert + The Napoleon of the People ('The Country Doctor') + +GEORGE BANCROFT (by Austin Scott) 1800-1891 + The Beginnings of Virginia ('History of the United + States') + Men and Government in Early Massachusetts (same) + King Philip's War (same) + The New Netherland (same) + Franklin (same) + + + + +FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS + +VOLUME III. + + * * * * * + + PAGE +Ancient Irish Miniature (Colored Plate) Frontispiece +"St. Augustine and His Mother" (Photogravure) 1014 +Papyrus, Sermons of St. Augustine (Fac-simile) 1018 +Marcus Aurelius (Portrait) 1022 +The Zend Avesta (Fac-simile) 1084 +Francis Bacon (Portrait) 1156 +"The Cavaliers" (Photogravure) 1218 +Honoré de Balzac (Portrait) 1348 +George Bancroft (Portrait) 1432 + + +VIGNETTE PORTRAITS + +Émile Augier +Jane Austen +Robert Aytoun +Walter Bagehot +Jens Baggesen +Philip James Bailey +Joanna Baillie +Henry Martyn Baird +Sir Samuel White Baker +Arthur James Balfour + + + + +(Continued from Volume II) + +"Do you imagine that every one is kindly disposed towards you? Take my +word for it, a palace contains people of all sorts, good and bad. All +the vices abound in such a place. And there are many other matters of +which you have no idea, and of which you will, I trust, ever remain +ignorant. But all you meet are wondrous polite. Try to remain just as +you now are, and when you leave the palace, let it be as the same +Walpurga you were when you came here." + +Walpurga stared at her in surprise. Who could change her? + +Word came that the Queen was awake and desired Walpurga to bring the +Crown Prince to her. + +Accompanied by Doctor Gunther, Mademoiselle Kramer, and two +waiting-women, she proceeded to the Queen's bedchamber. The Queen lay +there, calm and beautiful, and with a smile of greeting, turned her face +towards those who had entered. The curtains had been partially drawn +aside, and a broad, slanting ray of light shone into the apartment, +which seemed still more peaceful than during the breathless silence of +the previous night. + +"Good morning!" said the Queen, with a voice full of feeling. "Let me +have my child!" She looked down at the babe that rested in her arms, and +then, without noticing any one in the room, lifted her glance on high +and faintly murmured:-- + +"This is the first time I behold my child in the daylight!" + +All were silent; it seemed as if there was naught in the apartment +except the broad slanting ray of light that streamed in at the window. + +"Have you slept well?" inquired the Queen. Walpurga was glad the Queen +had asked a question, for now she could answer. Casting a hurried glance +at Mademoiselle Kramer, she said:-- + +"Yes, indeed! Sleep's the first, the last, and the best thing in the +world." + +"She's clever," said the Queen, addressing Doctor Gunther in French. + +Walpurga's heart sank within her. Whenever she heard them speak French, +she felt as if they were betraying her; as if they had put on an +invisible cap, like that worn by the goblins in the fairy-tale, and +could thus speak without being heard. + +"Did the Prince sleep well?" asked the Queen. + +Walpurga passed her hand over her face, as if to brush away a spider +that had been creeping there. The Queen doesn't speak of her "child" or +her "son," but only of "the Crown Prince." + +Walpurga answered:-- + +"Yes, quite well, thank God! That is, I couldn't hear him, and I only +wanted to say that I'd like to act towards the--" she could not say "the +Prince"--"that is, towards him, as I'd do with my own child. We began on +the very first day. My mother taught me that. Such a child has a will of +its own from the very start, and it won't do to give way to it. It won't +do to take it from the cradle, or to feed it, whenever it pleases; there +ought to be regular times for all those things. It'll soon get used to +that, and it won't harm it either, to let it cry once in a while. On the +contrary, that expands the chest." + +"Does he cry?" asked the Queen. + +The infant answered the question for itself, for it at once began to cry +most lustily. + +"Take him and quiet him," begged the Queen. + +The King entered the apartment before the child had stopped crying. + +"He will have a good voice of command," said he, kissing the Queen's +hand. + +Walpurga quieted the child, and she and Mademoiselle Kramer were sent +back to their apartments. + +The King informed the Queen of the dispatches that had been received, +and of the sponsors who had been decided upon. She was perfectly +satisfied with the arrangements that had been made. + +When Walpurga had returned to her room and had placed the child in the +cradle, she walked up and down and seemed quite agitated. + +"There are no angels in this world!" said she. "They're all just like +the rest of us, and who knows but--" She was vexed at the Queen: "Why +won't she listen patiently when her child cries? We must take all our +children bring us, whether it be joy or pain." + +She stepped out into the passage-way and heard the tones of the organ in +the palace-chapel. For the first time in her life these sounds +displeased her. "It don't belong in the house," thought she, "where all +sorts of things are going on. The church ought to stand by itself." + +When she returned to the room, she found a stranger there. Mademoiselle +Kramer informed her that this was the tailor to the Queen. + +Walpurga laughed outright at the notion of a "tailor to the Queen." The +elegantly attired person looked at her in amazement, while Mademoiselle +Kramer explained to her that this was the dressmaker to her Majesty the +Queen, and that he had come to take her measure for three new dresses. + +"Am I to wear city clothes?" + +"God forbid! You're to wear the dress of your neighborhood, and can +order a stomacher in red, blue, green, or any color that you like best." + +"I hardly know what to say; but I'd like to have a workday suit too. +Sunday clothes on week-days--that won't do." + +"At court one always wears Sunday clothes, and when her Majesty drives +out again you will have to accompany her." + +"A11 right, then. I won't object." + +While he took her measure, Walpurga laughed incessantly, and he was at +last obliged to ask her to hold still, so that he might go on with his +work. Putting his measure into his pocket, he informed Mademoiselle +Kramer that he had ordered an exact model, and that the master of +ceremonies had favored him with several drawings, so that there might be +no doubt of success. + +Finally he asked permission to see the Crown Prince. Mademoiselle Kramer +was about to let him do so, but Walpurga objected. + +"Before the child is christened," said she, "no one shall look at it +just out of curiosity, and least of all a tailor, or else the child will +never turn out the right sort of man." + +The tailor took his leave, Mademoiselle Kramer having politely hinted to +him that nothing could be done with the superstition of the lower +orders, and that it would not do to irritate the nurse. + +This occurrence induced Walpurga to administer the first serious +reprimand to Mademoiselle Kramer. She could not understand why she was +so willing to make an exhibition of the child. "Nothing does a child +more harm than to let strangers look at it in its sleep, and a tailor +at that." + +All the wild fun with which, in popular songs, tailors are held up to +scorn and ridicule, found vent in Walpurga, and she began singing:-- + + "Just list, ye braves, who love to roam! + A snail was chasing a tailor home. + And if Old Shears hadn't run so fast, + The snail would surely have caught him at last." + +Mademoiselle Kramer's acquaintance with the court tailor had lowered +her in Walpurga's esteem; and with an evident effort to mollify the +latter, Mademoiselle Kramer asked:-- + +"Does the idea of your new and beautiful clothes really afford you no +pleasure?" + +"To be frank with you, no! I don't wear them for my own sake, but for +that of others, who dress me to please themselves. It's all the same to +me, however! I've given myself up to them, and suppose I must submit." + +"May I come in?" asked a pleasant voice. Countess Irma entered the room. +Extending both her hands to Walpurga, she said:-- + +"God greet you, my countrywoman! I am also from the Highlands, seven +hours distance from your village. I know it well, and once sailed over +the lake with your father. Does he still live?" + +"Alas! no: he was drowned, and the lake hasn't given up its dead." + +"He was a fine-looking old man, and you are the very image of him." + +"I am glad to find some one else here who knew my father. The court +tailor--I mean the court doctor--knew him too. Yes, search the land +through, you couldn't have found a better man than my father, and no one +can help but admit it." + +"Yes: I've often heard as much." + +"May I ask your Ladyship's name?" + +"Countess Wildenort." + +"Wildenort? I've heard the name before. Yes, I remember my mother's +mentioning it. Your father was known as a very kind and benevolent man. +Has he been dead a long while?" + +"No, he is still living." + +"Is he here too?" + +"No." + +"And as what are you here, Countess?" + +"As maid of honor." + +"And what is that?" + +"Being attached to the Queen's person; or what, in your part of the +country, would be called a companion." + +"Indeed! And is your father willing to let them use you that way?" + +Irma, who was somewhat annoyed by her questions, said:-- + +"I wished to ask you something--Can you write?" + +"I once could, but I've quite forgotten how." + +"Then I've just hit it! that's the very reason for my coming here. Now, +whenever you wish to write home, you can dictate your letter to me, and +I will write whatever you tell me to." + +"I could have done that too," suggested Mademoiselle Kramer, timidly; +"and your Ladyship would not have needed to trouble yourself." + +"No, the Countess will write for me. Shall it be now?" + +"Certainly." + +But Walpurga had to go to the child. While she was in the next room, +Countess Irma and Mademoiselle Kramer engaged each other in +conversation. + +When Walpurga returned, she found Irma, pen in hand, and at once began +to dictate. + +Translation of S.A. Stern. + + +THE FIRST FALSE STEP + +From 'On the Heights' + +The ball was to be given in the palace and the adjoining winter garden. +The intendant now informed Irma of his plan, and was delighted to find +that she approved of it. At the end of the garden he intended to erect a +large fountain, ornamented with antique groups. In the foreground he +meant to have trees and shrubbery and various kinds of rocks, so that +none could approach too closely; and the background was to be a Grecian +landscape, painted in the grand style. + +Irma promised to keep his secret. Suddenly she exclaimed, "We are all of +us no better than lackeys and kitchen-maids. We are kept busy stewing, +roasting, and cooking for weeks, in order to prepare a dish that may +please their Majesties." + +The intendant made no reply. + +"Do you remember," continued Irma, "how, when we were at the lake, we +spoke of the fact that man possessed the advantage of being able to +change his dress, and thus to alter his appearance? While yet a child, +masquerading was my greatest delight. The soul wings its flight in +callow infancy. A _bal costumé_ is indeed one of the noblest fruits of +culture. The love of coquetry which is innate with all of us displays +itself there undisguised." + +The intendant took his leave. While walking away, his mind was filled +with his old thoughts about Irma. + +"No," said he to himself, "such a woman would be a constant strain, and +would require one to be brilliant and intellectual all day long. She +would exhaust one," said he, almost aloud. + +No one knew what character Irma intended to appear in, although many +supposed that it would be as "Victory," since it was well known that she +had stood for the model of the statue that surmounted the arsenal. They +were busy conjecturing how she could assume that character without +violating the social proprieties. + +Irma spent much of her time in the atelier, and worked assiduously. She +was unable to escape a feeling of unrest, far greater than that she had +experienced years ago when looking forward to her first ball. She could +not reconcile herself to the idea of preparing for the _fête_ so long +beforehand, and would like to have had it take place in the very next +hour, so that something else might be taken up at once. The long delay +tried her patience. She almost envied those beings to whom the +preparation for pleasure affords the greatest part of the enjoyment. +Work alone calmed her unrest. She had something to do, and this +prevented the thoughts of the festival from engaging her mind during the +day. It was only in the evening that she would recompense herself for +the day's work, by giving full swing to her fancy. + +The statue of Victory was still in the atelier and was almost finished. +High ladders were placed beside it. The artist was still chiseling at +the figure, and would now and then hurry down to observe the general +effect, and then hastily mount the ladder again in order to add a touch +here or there. Irma scarcely ventured to look up at this effigy of +herself in Grecian costume--transformed and yet herself. The idea of +being thus translated into the purest of art's forms filled her with a +tremor, half joy, half fear. + +It was on a winter afternoon. Irma was working assiduously at a copy of +a bust of Theseus, for it was growing dark. Near her stood her +preceptor's marble bust of Doctor Gunther. All was silent; not a sound +was heard save now and then the picking or scratching of the chisel. + +At that moment the master descended the ladder, and drawing a deep +breath, said:-- + +"There--that will do. One can never finish. I shall not put another +stroke to it. I am afraid that retouching would only injure it. It +is done." + +In the master's words and manner, struggling effort and calm content +seemed mingled. He laid the chisel aside. Irma looked at him earnestly +and said:-- + +"You are a happy man; but I can imagine that you are still unsatisfied. +I don't believe that even Raphael or Michael Angelo was ever satisfied +with the work he had completed. The remnant of dissatisfaction which an +artist feels at the completion of a work is the germ of a new creation." + +The master nodded his approval of her words. His eyes expressed his +thanks. He went to the water-tap and washed his hands. Then he placed +himself near Irma and looked at her, while telling her that in every +work an artist parts with a portion of his life; that the figure will +never again inspire the same feelings that it did while in the workshop. +Viewed from afar, and serving as an ornament, no regard would be had to +the care bestowed upon details. But the artist's great satisfaction in +his work is in having pleased himself; and yet no one can accurately +determine how, or to what extent, a conscientious working up of details +will influence the general effect. + +While the master was speaking, the King was announced. Irma hurriedly +spread a damp cloth over her clay model. + +The King entered. He was unattended, and begged Irma not to allow +herself to be disturbed in her work. Without looking up, she went on +with her modeling. The King was earnest in his praise of the +master's work. + +"The grandeur that dwells in this figure will show posterity what our +days have beheld. I am proud of such contemporaries." + +Irma felt that the words applied to her as well. Her heart throbbed. The +plaster which stood before her suddenly seemed to gaze at her with a +strange expression. + +"I should like to compare the finished work with the first models," said +the king to the artist. + +"I regret that the experimental models are in my small atelier. Does +your Majesty wish me to have them brought here?" + +"If you will be good enough to do so." + +The master left. The King and Irma were alone. With rapid steps the King +mounted the ladder, and exclaimed in a tremulous voice:-- + +"I ascend into heaven--I ascend to you. Irma, I kiss you, I kiss your +image, and may this kiss forever rest upon those lips, enduring beyond +all time. I kiss thee with the kiss of eternity." He stood aloft and +kissed the lips of the statue. Irma could not help looking up, and just +at that moment a slanting sunbeam fell on the King and on the face of +the marble figure, making it glow as if with life. + +Irma felt as if wrapped in a fiery cloud, bearing her away into +eternity. + +The King descended and placed himself beside her. His breathing was +short and quick. She did not dare to look up; she stood as silent and as +immovable as a statue. Then the King embraced her--and living lips +kissed each other. + +Translation of S.A. Stern. + + +THE NEW HOME AND THE OLD ONE + +From 'On the Heights' + +Hansei received various offers for his cottage, and was always provoked +when it was spoken of as a 'tumble-down old shanty.' He always looked as +if he meant to say, "Don't take it ill of me, good old house: the people +only abuse you so that they may get you cheap." Hansei stood his ground. +He would not sell his home for a penny less than it was worth; and +besides that, he owned the fishing-right, which was also worth +something. Grubersepp at last took the house off his hands, with the +design of putting a servant of his, who intended to marry in the fall, +in possession of the place. + +All the villagers were kind and friendly to them,--doubly so since they +were about to leave,--and Hansei said:-- + +"It hurts me to think that I must leave a single enemy behind me, I'd +like to make it up with the innkeeper." + +Walpurga agreed with him, and said that she would go along; that she had +really been the cause of the trouble, and that if the innkeeper wanted +to scold any one, he might as well scold her too. + +Hansei did not want his wife to go along, but she insisted upon it. + +It was in the last evening in August that they went up into the village. +Their hearts beat violently while they drew near to the inn. There was +no light in the room. They groped about the porch, but not a soul was to +be seen. Dachsel and Wachsel, however, were making a heathenish racket. +Hansei called out: + +"Is there no one at home?" + +"No. There's no one at home," answered a voice from the dark room. + +"Well, then tell the host, when he returns, that Hansei and his wife +were here, and that they came to ask him to forgive them if they've done +him any wrong; and to say that they forgive him too, and wish him luck." + +"A11 right: I'll tell him," said the voice. The door was again slammed +to, and Dachsel and Wachsel began barking again. + +Hansei and Walpurga returned homeward. + +"Do you know who that was?" asked Hansei. + +"Why, yes: 'twas the innkeeper himself." + +"Well, we've done all we could." + +They found it sad to part from all the villagers. They listened to the +lovely tones of the bell which they had heard every hour since +childhood. Although their hearts were full, they did not say a word +about the sadness of parting. Hansei at last broke silence:--"Our new +home isn't out of the world: we can often come here." + +When they reached the cottage they found that nearly all of the +villagers had assembled in order to bid them farewell, but every one +added, "I'll see you again in the morning." + +Grubersepp also came again. He had been proud enough before; but now he +was doubly so, for he had made a man of his neighbor, or at all events +had helped to do so. He did not give way to tender sentiment. He +condensed all his knowledge of life into a few sentences, which he +delivered himself of most bluntly. + +"I only want to tell you," said he, "you'll have lots of servants now. +Take my word for it, the best of them are good for nothing; but +something may be made of them for all that. He who would have his +servants mow well, must take the scythe in hand himself. And since you +got your riches so quickly, don't forget the proverb: 'Light come, light +go.' Keep steady, or it'll go ill with you." + +He gave him much more good advice, and Hansei accompanied him all the +way back to his house. With a silent pressure of the hand they took +leave of each other. + +The house seemed empty, for quite a number of chests and boxes had been +sent in advance by a boat that was already crossing the lake. On the +following morning two teams would be in waiting on the other side. + +"So this is the last time that we go to bed in this house," said the +mother. They were all fatigued with work and excitement, and yet none of +them cared to go to bed. At last, however, they could not help doing so, +although they slept but little. + +The next morning they were up and about at an early hour. Having attired +themselves in their best clothes, they bundled up the beds and carried +them into the boat. The mother kindled the last fire on the hearth. The +cows were led out and put into the boat, the chickens were also taken +along in a coop, and the dog was constantly running to and fro. + +The hour of parting had come. + +The mother uttered a prayer, and then called all of them into the +kitchen. She scooped up some water from the pail and poured it into the +fire, with these words:--"May all that's evil be thus poured out and +extinguished, and let those who light a fire after us find nothing but +health in their home." + +Hansei, Walpurga, and Gundel were each of them obliged to pour a +ladleful of water into the fire, and the grandmother guided the child's +hand while it did the same thing. + +After they had all silently performed this ceremony, the grandmother +prayed aloud:-- + +"Take from us, O Lord our God, all heartache and home-sickness and all +trouble, and grant us health and a happy home where we next kindle +our fire." + +She was the first to cross the threshold. She had the child in her arms +and covered its eyes with her hands while she called out to +the others:-- + +"Don't look back when you go out." + +"Just wait a moment," said Hansei to Walpurga when he found himself +alone with her. "Before we cross this threshold for the last time, I've +something to tell you. I must tell it. I mean to be a righteous man and +to keep nothing concealed from you. I must tell you this, Walpurga. +While you were away and Black Esther lived up yonder, I once came very +near being wicked--and unfaithful--thank God, I wasn't. But it torments +me to think that I ever wanted to be bad; and now, Walpurga, forgive me +and God will forgive me, too. Now I've told you, and have nothing more +to tell. If I were to appear before God this moment, I'd know of +nothing more." + +Walpurga embraced him, and sobbing, said, "You're my dear good husband!" +and they crossed the threshold for the last time. + +When they reached the garden, Hansei paused, looked up at the +cherry-tree, and said:-- + +"And so you remain here. Won't you come with us? We've always been good +friends, and spent many an hour together. But wait! I'll take you with +me, after all," cried he, joyfully, "and I'll plant you in my new home." + +He carefully dug out a shoot that was sprouting up from one of the roots +of the tree. He stuck it in his hat-band, and went to join his wife +at the boat. + +From the landing-place on the bank were heard the merry sounds of +fiddles, clarinets, and trumpets. + +Hansei hastened to the landing-place. The whole village had congregated +there, and with it the full band of music. Tailor Schneck's son, he who +had been one of, the cuirassiers at the christening of the crown prince, +had arranged and was now conducting the parting ceremonies. Schneck, who +was scraping his bass-viol, was the first to see Hansei, and called out +in the midst of the music:-- + +"Long live farmer Hansei and the one he loves best! Hip, hip, hurrah!" + +The early dawn resounded with their cheers. There was a flourish of +trumpets, and the salutes fired from several small mortars were echoed +back from the mountains. The large boat in which their household +furniture, the two cows, and the fowls were placed, was adorned with +wreaths of fir and oak. Walpurga was standing in the middle of the boat, +and with both hands held the child aloft, so that it might see the great +crowd of friends and the lake sparkling in the rosy dawn. + +"My master's best respects," said one of Grubersepp's servants, leading +a snow-white colt by the halter: "he sends you this to remember him by." + +Grubersepp was not present. He disliked noise and crowds. He was of a +solitary and self-contained temperament. Nevertheless he sent a present +which was not only of intrinsic value, but was also a most flattering +souvenir; for a colt is usually given by a rich farmer to a younger +brother when about to depart. In the eyes of all the world--that is to +say, the whole village--Hansei appeared as the younger brother of +Grubersepp. + +Little Burgei shouted for joy when she saw them leading the snow-white +foal into the boat. Gruberwaldl, who was but six years old, stood by the +whinnying colt, stroking it and speaking kindly to it. + +"Would you like to go to the farm with me and be my servant?" asked +Hansei of Gruberwaldl. + +"Yes, indeed, if you'll take me." + +"See what a boy he is," said Hansei to his wife. "What a boy!" + +Walpurga made no answer, but busied herself with the child. + +Hansei shook hands with every one at parting. His hand trembled, but he +did not forget to give a couple of crown thalers to the musicians. + +At last he got into the boat and exclaimed:-- + +"Kind friends! I thank you all. Don't forget us, and we shan't forget +you. Farewell! may God protect you all." + +Walpurga and her mother were in tears. + +"And now, in God's name, let us start!" The chains were loosened; the +boat put off. Music, shouting, singing, and the firing of cannon +resounded while the boat quietly moved away from the shore. The sun +burst forth in all his glory. + +The mother sat there, with her hands clasped. All were silent. The only +sound heard was the neighing of the foal. + +Walpurga was the first to break the silence. "O dear Lord! if people +would only show each other half as much love during life as they do when +one dies or moves away." + +The grandmother, who was in the middle of a prayer, shook her head. She +quickly finished her prayer and said:-- + +"That's more than one has the right to ask. It won't do to go about all +day long with your heart in your hand. But remember, I've always told +you that the people are good enough at heart, even if there are a few +bad ones among them." + +Hansei bestowed an admiring glance upon his wife, who had so many +different thoughts about almost everything. He supposed it was caused by +her having been away from home. But his heart was full, too, although in +a different way. + +"I can hardly realize," said Hansei, taking a long breath and putting +the pipe, which he had intended to light, back into his pocket, "what +has become of all the years that I spent there and all that I went +through during the time. Look, Walpurga! the road you see there leads to +my home. I know every hill and every hollow. My mother's buried there. +Do you see the pines growing on the hill over yonder? That hill was +quite bare; every tree was cut down when the French were here; and see +how fine and hardy the trees are now. I planted most of them myself. I +was a little boy about eleven or twelve years old when the forester +hired me. He had fresh soil brought for the whole place and covered the +rocky spots with moss. In the spring I worked from six in the morning +till seven in the evening, putting in the little plants. My left hand +was almost frozen, for I had to keep putting it into a tub of wet loam, +with which I covered the roots. I was scantily clothed into the bargain, +and had nothing to eat all day long but a piece of bread. In the morning +it was cold enough to freeze the marrow in one's bones, and at noon I +was almost roasted by the hot sun beating on the rocks. It was a hard +life. Yes, I had a hard time of it when I was young. Thank God, it +hasn't harmed me any. But I shan't forget it; and let's be right +industrious and give all we can to the poor. I never would have believed +that I'd live to call a single tree or a handful of earth my own; and +now that God has given me so much, let's try and deserve it all." + +Hansei's eyes blinked, as if there was something in them, and he pulled +his hat down over his forehead. Now, while he was pulling himself up by +the roots as it were, he could not help thinking of how thoroughly he +had become engrafted into the neighborhood by the work of his hands and +by habit. He had felled many a tree, but he knew full well how hard it +was to remove the stumps. + +The foal grew restive. Gruberwaldl, who had come with them in order to +hold it, was not strong enough, and one of the boatmen was obliged to go +to his assistance. + +"Stay with the foal," said Hansei. "I'll take the oar." + +"And I too," cried Walpurga. "Who knows when I'll have another chance? +Ah! how often I've rowed on the lake with you and my blessed father." + +Hansei and Walpurga sat side by side plying their oars in perfect time. +It did them both good to have some employment which would enable them to +work off the excitement. + +"I shall miss the water," said Walpurga; "without the lake, life'll seem +so dull and dry. I felt that, while I was in the city." + +Hansei did not answer. + +"At the summer palace there's a pond with swans swimming about in it," +said she, but still received no answer. She looked around, and a +feeling of anger arose within her. When she said anything at the palace, +it was always listened to. + +In a sorrowful tone she added, "It would have been better if we'd moved +in the spring; it would have been much easier to get used to things." + +"Maybe it would," replied Hansei, at last, "but I've got to hew wood in +the winter. Walpurga, let's make life pleasant to each other, and not +sad. I shall have enough on my shoulders, and can't have you and your +palace thoughts besides." + +Walpurga quickly answered, "I'll throw this ring, which the Queen gave +me, into the lake, to prove that I've stopped thinking of the palace." + +"There's no need of that. The ring's worth a nice sum, and besides that +it's an honorable keepsake. You must do just as I do." + +"Yes; only remain strong and true." + +The grandmother suddenly stood up before them. Her features were +illumined with a strange expression, and she said:-- + +"Children! Hold fast to the good fortune that you have. You've gone +through fire and water together; for it was fire when you were +surrounded by joy and love and every one greeted you with kindness--and +you passed through the water, when the wickedness of others stung you to +the soul. At that time the water was up to your neck, and yet you +weren't drowned. Now you've got over it all. And when my last hour +comes, don't weep for me; for through you I've enjoyed all the happiness +a mother's heart can have in this world." + +She knelt down, scooped up some water with her hand, and sprinkled it +over Hansei's and also over Walpurga's face. + +They rowed on in silence. The grandmother laid her head on a roll of +bedding and closed her eyes. Her face wore a strange expression. After a +while she opened her eyes again, and casting a glance full of happiness +on her children, she said: + +"Sing and be merry. Sing the song that father and I so often sang +together; that one verse, the good one." + +Hansei and Walpurga plied the oars while they sang:-- + + "Ah, blissful is the tender tie + That binds me, love, to thee; + And swiftly speed the hours by, + When thou art near to me." + +They repeated the verse again, although at times the joyous shouting of +the child and the neighing of the foal bade fair to interrupt it. + + * * * * * + +As they drew near the house, they could hear the neighing of the white +foal. + +"That's a good beginning," cried Hansei. + +The grandmother placed the child on the ground, and got her hymn-book +out of the chest. Pressing the book against her breast with both hands, +she went into the house, being the first to enter. Hansei, who was +standing near the stable, took a piece of chalk from his pocket and +wrote the letters C.M.B., and the date, on the stable door. Then he too +went into the house,--his wife, Irma, and the child following him. + +Before going into the sitting-room the grandmother knocked thrice at the +door. When she had entered she placed the open hymn-book upon the open +window-sill, so that the sun might read in it. There were no tables or +chairs in the room. + +Hansei shook hands with his wife and said, "God be with you, +freeholder's wife." + +From that moment Walpurga was known as the "freeholder's wife," and was +never called by any other name. + +And now they showed Irma her room. The view extended over meadow and +brook and the neighboring forest. She examined the room. There was +naught but a green Dutch oven and bare walls, and she had brought +nothing with her. In her paternal mansion, and at the castle, there were +chairs and tables, horses and carriages; but here--None of these +follow the dead. + +Irma knelt by the window and gazed out over meadow and forest, where the +sun was now shining. + +How was it yesterday--was it only yesterday when you saw the sun go +down? + +Her thoughts were confused and indistinct. She pressed her hand to her +forehead; the white handkerchief was still there. A bird looked up to +her from the meadow, and when her glance rested upon it it flew away +into the woods. + +"The bird has its nest," said she to herself, "and I--" + +Suddenly she drew herself up. Hansei had walked out to the grass plot in +front of Irma's window, removed the slip of the cherry-tree from his +hat, and planted it in the ground. + +The grandmother stood by and said, "I trust that you'll be alive and +hearty long enough to climb this tree and gather cherries from it, and +that your children and grandchildren may do the same." + +There was much to do and to set to rights in the house, and on such +occasions it usually happens that those who are dearest to one another +are as much in each other's way as closets and tables which have not yet +been placed where they belong. The best proof of the amiability of these +folks was that they assisted each other cheerfully, and indeed with +jest and song. + +Walpurga moved her best furniture into Irma's room. Hansei did not +interpose a word. "Aren't you too lonely here?" asked Walpurga, after +she had arranged everything as well as possible in so short a time. + +"Not at all. There is no place in all the world lonely enough for me. +You've so much to do now; don't worry about me. I must now arrange +things within myself. I see how good you and yours are; fate has +directed me kindly." + +"Oh, don't talk in that way. If you hadn't given me the money, how could +we have bought the farm? This is really your own." + +"Don't speak of that," said Irma, with a sudden start. "Never mention +that money to me again." + +Walpurga promised, and merely added that Irma needn't be alarmed at the +old man who lived in the room above hers, and who at times would talk to +himself and make a loud noise. He was old and blind. The children teased +and worried him, but he wasn't bad and would harm no one. Walpurga +offered at all events to leave Gundel with Irma for the first night; but +Irma preferred to be alone. + +"You'll stay with us, won't you?" said Walpurga hesitatingly. "You won't +have such bad thoughts again?" + +"No, never. But don't talk now: my voice pains me, and so does yours +too. Good-night! leave me alone." + +Irma sat by the window and gazed out into the dark night. Was it only a +day since she had passed through such terrors? Suddenly she sprang from +her seat with a shudder. She had seen Black Esther's head rising out of +the darkness, had again heard her dying shriek, had beheld the distorted +face and the wild black tresses.--Her hair stood on end. Her thoughts +carried her to the bottom of the lake, where she now lay dead. She +opened the window and inhaled the soft, balmy air. She sat by the open +casement for a long while, and suddenly heard some one laughing in the +room above her. + +"Ha! ha! I won't do you the favor! I won't die! I won't die! Pooh, pooh! +I'll live till I'm a hundred years old, and then I'll get a new lease +of life." + +It was the old pensioner. After a while he continued:-- + +"I'm not so stupid; I know that it's night now, and the freeholder and +his wife are come. I'll give them lots of trouble. I'm Jochem. Jochem's +my name, and what the people don't like, I do for spite. Ha! ha! I don't +use any light, and they must make me an allowance for that. I'll insist +on it, if I have to go to the King himself about it." + +Irma started when she heard the King mentioned. + +"Yes, I'll go to the King, to the King! to the King!" cried the old man +overhead, as if he knew that the word tortured Irma. + +She heard him close the window and move a chair. The old man went to +bed. + +Irma looked out into the dark night. Not a star was to be seen. There +was no light anywhere; nothing was heard but the roaring of the mountain +stream and the rustling of the trees. The night seemed like a +dark abyss. + +"Are you still awake?" asked a soft voice without. It was the +grandmother. + +"I was once a servant at this farm," said she. "That was forty years +ago; and now I'm the mother of the freeholder's wife, and almost the +head one on the farm. But I keep thinking of you all the time. I keep +trying to think how it is in your heart. I've something to tell you. +Come out again. I'll take you where it'll do you good to be. Come!" + +Irma went out into the dark night with the old woman. How different this +guide from the one she had had the day before! + +The old woman led her to the fountain. She had brought a cup with her +and gave it to Irma. "Come, drink; good cold water's the best. Water +comforts the body; it cools and quiets us; it's like bathing one's soul. +I know what sorrow is too. One's insides burn as if they were afire." + +Irma drank some of the water of the mountain spring. It seemed like a +healing dew, whose influence was diffused through her whole frame. + +The grandmother led her back to her room and said, "You've still got +the shirt on that you wore at the palace. You'll never stop thinking of +that place till you've burned that shirt." + +The old woman would listen to no denial, and Irma was as docile as a +little child. The grandmother hurried to get a coarse shirt for her, and +after Irma had put it on, brought wood and a light and burnt the other +at the open fire. Irma was also obliged to cut off her long nails and +throw them into the fire. Then Beate disappeared for a few moments, and +returned with Irma's riding-habit. "You must have been shot; for there +are balls in this," said she, spreading out the long blue habit. + +A smile passed over Irma's face, as she felt the balls that had been +sewed into the lower part of the habit, so that it might hang more +gracefully. Beate had also brought something very useful,--a deerskin. +"Hansei sends you this," said she. "He thinks that maybe you're used to +having something soft for your feet to rest on. He shot the +deer himself." + +Irma appreciated the kindness of the man who could show such affection +to one who was both a stranger and a mystery to him. + +The grandmother remained at Irma's bedside until she fell asleep. Then +she breathed thrice on the sleeper and left the room. + +It was late at night when Irma awoke. + +"To the King! to the King! to the King!" The words had been uttered +thrice in a loud voice. Was it hers, or that of the man overhead? Irma +pressed her hand to her forehead and felt the bandage. Was it sea-grass +that had gathered there? Was she lying alive at the bottom of the lake? +Gradually all that had happened became clear to her. + +Alone, in the dark and silent night, she wept. And these were the first +tears she had shed since the terrible events through which she +had passed. + +It was evening when Irma awoke. She put her hand to her forehead. A wet +cloth had been bound round it. She had been sleeping nearly twenty-four +hours. The grandmother was sitting by her bed. + +"You've a strong constitution," said the old woman, "and that helped +you. It's all right now." + +Irma arose. She felt strong, and guided by the grandmother, walked over +to the dwelling-house. + +"God be praised that you're well again," said Walpurga, who was +standing there with her husband; and Hansei added, "yes, that's right." + +Irma thanked them, and looked up at the gable of the house. What words +there met her eye? + +"Don't you think the house has a good motto written on its forehead?" +asked Hansei. + +Irma started. On the gable of the house she read the following +inscription:-- + +EAT AND DRINK: FORGET NOT GOD: THINE HONOR GUARD: + OF ALL THY STORE, + THOU'LT CARRY HENCE + A WINDING-SHEET + AND NOTHING MORE. + +Translation of S.A. Stern. + + +THE COURT PHYSICIAN'S PHILOSOPHY + +From 'On the Heights' + +Gunther continued, "I am only a physician, who has held many a hand hot +with fever or stiff in death in his own. The healing art might serve as +an illustration. We help all who need our help, and do not stop to ask +who they are, whence they come, or whether when restored to health they +persist in their evil courses. Our actions are incomplete, fragmentary; +thought alone is complete and all-embracing. Our deeds and ourselves are +but fragments--the whole is God." + +"I think I grasp your meaning [replied the Queen]. But our life, as you +say, is indeed a mere fraction of life as a whole; and how is each one +to bear up under the portion of suffering that falls to his individual +lot? Can one--I mean it in its best sense--always be outside of +one's self?" + +"I am well aware, your Majesty, that passions and emotions cannot be +regulated by ideas; for they grow in a different soil, or, to express +myself correctly, move in entirely different spheres. It is but a few +days since I closed the eyes of my old friend Eberhard. Even he never +fully succeeded in subordinating his temperament to his philosophy; but +in his dying hour he rose beyond the terrible grief that broke his +heart--grief for his child. He summoned the thoughts of better hours to +his aid,--hours when his perception of the truth had been undimmed by +sorrow or passion,--and he died a noble, peaceful death. Your Majesty +must still live and labor, elevating yourself and others, at one and the +same time. Permit me to remind you of the moment when, seated under the +weeping ash, your heart was filled with pity for the poor child that +from the time it enters into the world is doubly helpless. Do you still +remember how you refused to rob it of its mother? I appeal to the pure +and genuine impulse of that moment. You were noble and forgiving then, +because you had not yet suffered. You cast no stone at the fallen; you +loved, and therefore you forgave." + +"O God!" cried the Queen, "and what has happened to me? The woman on +whose bosom my child rested is the most abandoned of creatures. I loved +her just as if she belonged to another world--a world of innocence. And +now I am satisfied that she was the go-between, and that her naïveté was +a mere mask concealing an unparalleled hypocrite. I imagined that truth +and purity still dwelt in the simple rustic world--but everything is +perverted and corrupt. The world of simplicity is base; aye, far worse +than that of corruption!" + +"I am not arguing about individuals. I think you mistaken in regard to +Walpurga; but admitting that you are right, of this at least we can be +sure: morality does not depend upon so-called education or ignorance, +belief or unbelief. The heart and mind which have regained purity and +steadfastness alone possess true knowledge. Extend your view beyond +details and take in the whole--that alone can comfort and +reconcile you." + +"I see where you are, but I cannot get up there. I can't always be +looking through your telescope that shows naught but blue sky. I am too +weak. I know what you mean; you say in effect, 'Rise above these few +people, above this span of space known as a kingdom: compared with the +universe, they are but as so many blades of grass or a mere clod +of earth.'" + +Gunther nodded a pleased assent: but the Queen, in a sad voice, added:-- + +"Yes, but this space and these people constitute my world. Is purity +merely imaginary? If it be not about us, where can it be found?" + +"Within ourselves," replied Gunther. "If it dwell within us, it is +everywhere; if not, it is nowhere. He who asks for more has not yet +passed the threshold. His heart is not yet what it should be. True love +for the things of this earth, and for God, the final cause of all, does +not ask for love in return. We love the divine spark that dwells in +creatures themselves unconscious of it: creatures who are wretched, +debased, and as the church has it, unredeemed. My Master taught me that +the purest joys arise from this love of God or of eternally pure nature. +I made this truth my own, and you can and ought to do likewise. This +park is yours; but the birds that dwell in it, the air, the light, its +beauty, are not yours alone, but are shared with you by all. So long as +the world is ours, in the vulgar sense of the word, we may love it; but +when we have made it our own, in a purer and better sense, no one can +take it from us. The great thing is to be strong and to know that hatred +is death, that love alone is life, and that the amount of love that we +possess is the measure of the life and the divinity that dwells +within us." + +Gunther rose and was about to withdraw. He feared lest excessive thought +might over-agitate the Queen, who, however, motioned him to remain. He +sat down again. + +"You cannot imagine--" said the Queen after a long pause, "--but that is +one of the cant phrases that we have learned by heart. I mean just the +reverse of what I have said. You can imagine the change that your words +have effected in me." + +"I can conceive it." + +"Let me ask a few more questions. I believe--nay, I am sure--that on the +height you occupy, and toward which you would fain lead me, there dwells +eternal peace. But it seems so cold and lonely up there. I am oppressed +with a sense of fear, just as if I were in a balloon ascending into a +rarer atmosphere, while more and more ballast was ever being thrown out. +I don't know how to make my meaning clear to you. I don't understand how +to keep up affectionate relations with those about me, and yet regard +them from a distance, as it were,--looking upon their deeds as the mere +action and reaction of natural forces. It seems to me as if, at that +height, every sound and every image must vanish into thin air." + +"Certainly, your Majesty. There is a realm of thought in which hearing +and sight do not exist, where there is pure thought and nothing more." + +"But are not the thoughts that there abound projected from the realm of +death into that of life, and is that any better than monastic +self-mortification?" + +"It is just the contrary. They praise death, or at all events extol it, +because after it life is to begin. I am not one of those who deny a +future life. I only say, in the words of my Master, 'Our knowledge is of +life and not of death,' and where my knowledge ceases my thoughts must +cease. Our labors, our love, are all of this life. And because God is in +this world and in all that exist in it, and only in those things, have +we to liberate the divine essence wherever it exists. The law of love +should rule. What the law of nature is in regard to matter, the moral +law is to man." + +"I cannot reconcile myself to your dividing the divine power into +millions of parts. When a stone is crushed, every fragment still remains +a stone; but when a flower is torn to pieces, the parts are no +longer flowers." + +"Let us take your simile as an illustration, although in truth no +example is adequate. The world, the firmament, the creatures that live +on the face of the earth, are not divided--they are one; thought regards +them as a whole. Take for instance the flower. The idea of divinity +which it suggests to us, and the fragrance which ascends from it, are +yet part and parcel of the flower; attributes without which it is +impossible for us to conceive of its existence. The works of all poets, +all thinkers, all heroes, may be likened to streams of fragrance wafted +through time and space. It is in the flower that they live forever. +Although the eternal spirit dwells in the cell of every tree or flower +and in every human heart, it is undivided and in its unity fills the +world. He whose thoughts dwell in the infinite regards the world as the +mighty corolla from which the thought of God exhales." + +Translation of S.A. Stern. + + +IN COUNTESS IRMA'S DIARY + +From 'On the Heights' + +Yesterday was a year since I lay at the foot of the rock. I could not +write a word. My brain whirled with the thoughts of that day; but now +it is over. + + * * * * * + +I don't think I shall write much more. I have now experienced all the +seasons in my new world. The circle is complete. There is nothing new +to come from without. I know all that exists about me, or that can +happen. I am at home in my new world. + + * * * * * + +Unto Jesus the Scribes and Pharisees brought a woman who was to be +stoned to death, and He said unto them, "Let him that is without sin +among you cast the first stone." + +Thus it is written. + +But I ask: How did she continue to live--she who was saved from being +stoned to death; she who was pardoned--that is, condemned to live? How +did she live on? Did she return to her home? How did she stand with the +world? And how with her own heart? + +No answer. None. + +I must find the answer in my own experience + + * * * * * + +"Let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone." These are +the noblest, the greatest words ever uttered by human lips, or heard by +human ear. They divide the history of the human race into two parts. +They are the "Let there be light" of the second creation. They divide +and heal my little life too, and create me anew. + +Has one who is not wholly without sin a right to offer precepts and +reflections to others? + +Look into your own heart. What are you? + +Behold my hands. They are hardened by toil. I have done more than merely +lift them in prayer. + + * * * * * + +Since I am alone I have not seen a letter of print. I have no book and +wish for none; and this is not in order to mortify myself, but because I +wish to be perfectly alone. + + * * * * * + +She who renounces the world, and in her loneliness still cherishes the +thought of eternity, has assumed a heavy burden. + +Convent life is not without its advantages. The different voices that +join in the _chorale_ sustain each other; and when the tone at last +ceases, it seems to float away on the air and vanish by degrees. But +here I am quite alone. I am priest and church, organ and congregation, +confessor and penitent, all in one; and my heart is often _so_ heavy, as +if I must needs have another to help me bear the load. "Take me up and +carry me, I cannot go further!" cries my soul. But then I rouse myself +again, seize my scrip and my pilgrim's staff and wander on, solitary and +alone; and while I wander, strength returns to me. + + * * * * * + +It often seems to me as if it were sinful thus to bury myself alive. My +voice is no longer heard in song, and much more that dwells within me +has become mute. + +Is this right? + +If my only object in life were to be at peace with myself, it would be +well enough; but I long to labor and to do something for others. Yet +where and what shall it be? + + * * * * * + +When I first heard that the beautifully carved furniture of the great +and wealthy is the work of prisoners, it made me shudder. And now, +although I am not deprived of freedom, I am in much the same condition. +Those who have disfigured life should, as an act of expiation, help to +make life more beautiful for others. The thought that I am doing this +comforts and sustains me. + + * * * * * + +My work prospers. But last winter's wood is not yet fit for use. My +little pitchman has brought me some that is old, excellent, and well +seasoned, having been part of the rafters of an old house that has just +been torn down. We work together cheerfully, and our earnings are +considerable. + + * * * * * + +Vice is the same everywhere, except that here it is more open. Among the +masses, vice is characterized by coarseness; among the upper classes, +by meanness. + +The latter shake off the consequences of their evil deeds, while the +former are obliged to bear them. + + * * * * * + +The rude manners of these people are necessary, and are far preferable +to polite deceit. They must needs be rough and rude. If it were not for +its coarse, thick bark, the oak could not withstand the storm. + +I have found that this rough bark covers more tenderness and sincerity +than does the smoothest surface. + + * * * * * + +Jochem told me, to-day, that he is still quite a good walker, but that a +blind man finds it very troublesome to go anywhere; for at every step he +is obliged to grope about, so that he may feel sure of his ground before +he firmly plants his foot on the earth. + +Is it not the same with me? Am I not obliged to be sure of the ground +before I take a step? + +Such is the way of the fallen. + +Ah! why does everything I see or hear become a symbol of my life? + + * * * * * + +I have now been here between two and three years. I have formed a +resolve which it will be difficult to carry out. I shall go out into the +world once more. I must again behold the scenes of my past life. I have +tested myself severely. + +May it not be a love of adventure, that genteel yet vulgar desire to +undertake what is unusual or fraught with peril? Or is it a morbid +desire to wander through the world after having died, as it were? + +No; far from it. What can it be? An intense longing to roam again, if it +be only for a few days. I must kill the desire, lest it kill me. + +Whence arises this sudden longing? + +Every tool that I use while at work burns my hand. + +I must go. + +I shall obey the impulse, without worrying myself with speculations as +to its cause. I am subject to the rules of no order. My will is my only +law. I harm no one by obeying it. I feel myself free; the world has no +power over me. + +I dreaded informing Walpurga of my intention. When I did so, her tone, +her words, her whole manner, and the fact that she for the first time +called me "child," made it seem as if her mother were still speaking +to me. + +"Child," said she, "you're right! Go! It'll do you good. I believe that +you'll come back and will stay with us; but if you don't, and another +life opens up to you--your expiation has been a bitter one, far heavier +than your sin." + +Uncle Peter was quite happy when he learned that we were to be gone +from one Sunday to the Sunday following. When I asked him whether he was +curious as to where we were going, he replied:-- + +"It's all one to me. I'd travel over the whole world with you, wherever +you'd care to go; and if you were to drive me away, I'd follow you like +a dog and find you again." + +I shall take my journal with me, and will note down every day. + + * * * * * + +[By the lake.]--I find it difficult to write a word. + +The threshold I am obliged to cross, in order to go out into the world, +is my own gravestone. + +I am equal to it. + +How pleasant it was to descend toward the valley. Uncle Peter sang; and +melodies suggested themselves to me, but I did not sing. Suddenly he +interrupted himself and said:-- + +"In the inns you'll be my niece, won't you?" + +"Yes." + +"But you must call me 'uncle' when we're there?" + +"Of course, dear uncle." + +He kept nodding to himself for the rest of the way, and was quite happy. + +We reached the inn at the landing. He drank, and I drank too, from the +same glass. + +"Where are you going?" asked the hostess. + +"To the capital," said he, although I had not said a word to him about +it. Then he said to me in a whisper:-- + +"If you intend to go elsewhere, the people needn't know everything." + +I let him have his own way. + +I looked for the place where I had wandered at that time. There--there +was the rock--and on it a cross, bearing in golden characters the +inscription:-- + + HERE PERISHED + + IRMA, COUNTESS VON WILDENORT, + + IN THE TWENTY-FIRST YEAR + OF HER LIFE. + + _Traveler, pray for her and honor her memory_. + +I never rightly knew why I was always dissatisfied, and yearning for +the next hour, the next day, the next year, hoping that it would bring +me that which I could not find in the present. It was not love, for love +does not satisfy. I desired to live in the passing moment, but could +not. It always seemed as if something were waiting for me without the +door, and calling me. What could it have been? + +I know now; it was a desire to be at one with myself, to understand +myself. Myself in the world, and the world in me. + + * * * * * + +The vain man is the loneliest of human beings. He is constantly longing +to be seen, understood, acknowledged, admired, and loved. + +I could say much on the subject, for I too was once vain. It was only in +actual solitude that I conquered the loneliness of vanity. It is enough +for me that I exist. + +How far removed this is from all that is mere show. + + * * * * * + +Now I understand my father's last act. He did not mean to punish me. His +only desire was to arouse me; to lead me to self-consciousness; to the +knowledge which, teaching us to become different from what we are, +saves us. + + * * * * * + +I understand the inscription in my father's library:--"When I am alone, +then am I least alone." + +Yes; when alone, one can more perfectly lose himself in the life +universal. I have lived and have come to know the truth. I can now die. + + * * * * * + +He who is at one with himself, possesses all.... + +I believe that I know what I have done. I have no compassion for myself. +This is my full confession. + +I have sinned--not against nature, but against the world's rules. Is +that sin? Look at the tall pines in yonder forest. The higher the tree +grows, the more do the lower branches die away; and thus the tree in the +thick forest is protected and sheltered by its fellows, but can +nevertheless not perfect itself in all directions. + +I desired to lead a full and complete life and yet to be in the forest, +to be in the world and yet in society. But he who means to live thus, +must remain in solitude. As soon as we become members of society, we +cease to be mere creatures of nature. Nature and morality have equal +rights, and must form a compact with each other; and where there are two +powers with equal rights, there must be mutual concessions. + +Herein lies my sin. + +_He who desires to live a life of nature alone, must withdraw himself +from the protection of morality. I did not fully desire either the one +or the other; hence I was crushed and shattered_. + +My father's last action was right. He avenged the moral law, which is +just as human as the law of nature. The animal world knows neither +father nor mother, so soon as the young is able to take care of itself. +The human world does know them and must hold them sacred. + +I see it all quite clearly. My sufferings and my expiation are deserved. +I was a thief! I stole the highest treasures of all: confidence, love, +honor, respect, splendor. + +How noble and exalted the tender souls appear to themselves when a poor +rogue is sent to jail for having committed a theft! But what are all +possessions which can be carried away, when compared with those that are +intangible! + +Those who are summoned to the bar of justice are not always the basest +of mankind. + +I acknowledge my sin, and my repentance is sincere. + +My fatal sin, the sin for which I now atone, was that I dissembled, that +I denied and extenuated that which I represented to myself as a natural +right. Against the Queen I have sinned worst of all. To me she +represents that moral order which I violated and yet wished to enjoy. + +To you, O Queen, to you--lovely, good, and deeply injured one--do I +confess all this! + +If I die before you,--and I hope that I may,--these pages are to be +given to you. + + * * * * * + +I can now accurately tell the season of the year, and often the hour of +the day, by the way in which the first sunbeams fall into my room and on +my work-bench in the morning. My chisel hangs before me on the wall, and +is my index. + +The drizzling spring showers now fall on the trees; and thus it is with +me. It seems as if there were a new delight in store for me. What can it +be? I shall patiently wait! + + * * * * * + +A strange feeling comes over me, as if I were lifted up from the chair +on which I am sitting, and were flying, I know not whither! What is it? +I feel as if dwelling in eternity. + +Everything seems flying toward me: the sunlight and the sunshine, the +rustling of the forests and the forest breezes, beings of all ages and +of all kinds--all seem beautiful and rendered transparent by the +sun's glow. + +I am! + +I am in God! + +If I could only die now and be wafted through this joy to dissolution +and redemption! + +But I will live on until my hour comes. + +Come, thou dark hour, whenever thou wilt! To me thou art light! + +I feel that there is light within me. O Eternal Spirit of the universe, +I am one with thee! + +I was dead, and I live--I shall die and yet live. + +Everything has been forgiven and blotted out.--There was dust on my +wings.--I soar aloft into the sun and into infinite space. I shall die +singing from the fullness of my soul. Shall I sing! + +Enough. + + * * * * * + +I know that I shall again be gloomy and depressed and drag along a weary +existence; but I have once soared into infinity and have felt a ray of +eternity within me. That I shall never lose again. I should like to go +to a convent, to some quiet, cloistered cell, where I might know nothing +of the world, and could live on within myself until death shall call me. +But it is not to be. I am destined to live on in freedom and to labor; +to live with my fellow-beings and to work for them. + +The results of my handiwork and of my powers of imagination belong to +you; but what I am within myself is mine alone. + + * * * * * + +I have taken leave of everything here; of my quiet room, of my summer +bench; for I know not whether I shall ever return. And if I do, who +knows but what everything may have become strange to me? + + * * * * * + +(Last page written in pencil.)--It is my wish that when I am dead, I may +be wrapped in a simple linen cloth, placed in a rough unplaned coffin, +and buried under the apple-tree, on the road that leads to my paternal +mansion. I desire that my brother and other relatives may be apprised of +my death at once, and that they shall not disturb my grave by +the wayside. + +No stone, no name, is to mark my grave. + + + + +ÉMILE AUGIER + +(1820-1889) + + +As an observer of society, a satirist, and a painter of types and +characters of modern life, Émile Augier ranks among the greatest French +dramatists of this century. Critics consider him in the line of direct +descent from Molière and Beaumarchais. His collected works ('Theatre +Complet') number twenty-seven plays, of which nine are in verse. Eight +of these were written with a literary partner. Three are now called +classics: 'Le Gendre de M. Poirier' (M. Poirier's Son-in-Law), +'L'Aventurière' (The Adventuress), and 'Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's +Boy). 'Le Gendre de M. Poirier' was written with Jules Sandeau, but the +admirers of Augier have proved by internal evidence that his share in +its composition was the greater. It is a comedy of manners based on the +old antagonism between vulgar ignorant energy and ability on the one +side, and lazy empty birth and breeding on the other; embodied in +Poirier, a wealthy shopkeeper, and M. de Presles, his son-in-law, an +impoverished nobleman. Guillaume Victor Émile Augier was born in +Valence, France, September 17th, 1820, and was intended for the law; but +inheriting literary tastes from his grandfather, Pigault Lebrun the +romance writer, he devoted himself to letters. When his first play, 'La +Ciguë' (The Hemlock),--in the preface to which he defended his +grandfather's memory,--was presented at the Odéon in 1844, it made the +author famous. Théophile Gautier describes it at length in Vol. iii. of +his 'Art Dramatique,' and compares it to Shakespeare's 'Timon of +Athens.' It is a classic play, and the hero closes his career by a +draught of hemlock. + +Augier's works are:--'Un Homme de Bien' (A Good Man); 'L'Aventurière' +(The Adventuress); 'Gabrielle'; 'Le Joueur de Flute' (The Flute Player); +'Diane' (Diana), a romantic play on the same theme as Victor Hugo's +'Marion Delorme,' written for and played by Rachel; 'La Pierre de +Touche' (The Touchstone), with Jules Sandeau; 'Philberte,' a comedy of +the last century; 'Le Mariage d'Olympe' (Olympia's Marriage); 'Le Gendre +de M. Poirier' (M. Poirier's Son-in-Law); 'Ceinture Dorée' (The Golden +Belt), with Edouard Foussier; 'La Jeunesse' (Youth); 'Les Lionnes +Pauvres' (Ambition and Poverty),--a bold story of social life in Paris +during the Second Empire, also with Foussier; 'Les Effrontés' (Brass), +an attack on the worship of money; 'Le Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's Boy), +the story of a father's devotion, ambitions, and self-sacrifice; 'Maître +Guérin' (Guérin the Notary), the hero being an inventor; 'La Contagion' +(Contagion), the theme of which is skepticism; 'Paul Forestier,' the +story of a young artist; 'Le Post-Scriptum' (The Postscript); 'Lions et +Renards' (Lions and Foxes), whose motive is love of power; 'Jean +Thommeray,' the hero of which is drawn from Sandeau's novel of the same +title; 'Madame Caverlet,' hinging on the divorce question; 'Les +Fourchambault' (The Fourchambaults), a plea for family union; 'La Chasse +au Roman' (Pursuit of a Romance), and 'L'Habit Vert' (The Green Coat), +with Sandeau and Alfred de Musset; and the libretto for Gounod's opera +'Sappho.' Augier wrote one volume of verse, which he modestly called +'Pariétaire,' the name of a common little vine, the English danewort. In +1858 he was elected to the French Academy, and in 1868 became a +Commander of the Legion of Honor. He died at Croissy, October 25th, +1889. An analysis of his dramas by Émile Montégut is published in the +Revue de Deux Mondes for April, 1878. + + +A CONVERSATION WITH A PURPOSE + +From 'Giboyer's Boy' + +_Marquis_--Well, dear Baroness, what has an old bachelor like me done to +deserve so charming a visit? + +_Baroness_--That's what I wonder myself, Marquis. Now I see you I don't +know why I've come, and I've a great mind to go straight back. + +_Marquis_--Sit down, vexatious one! + +_Baroness_--No. So you close your door for a week; your servants all +look tragic; your friends put on mourning in anticipation; I, +disconsolate, come to inquire--and behold, I find you at table! + +_Marquis_--I'm an old flirt, and wouldn't show myself for an empire when +I'm in a bad temper. You wouldn't recognize your agreeable friend when +he has the gout;--that's why I hide. + +_Baroness_--I shall rush off to reassure your friend. + +_Marquis_--They are not so anxious as all that. Tell me something of +them. + +_Baroness_--But somebody's waiting in my carriage. + +_Marquis_--I'll send to ask him up. + +_Baroness_--But I'm not sure that you know him. + +_Marquis_--His name? + +_Baroness_--I met him by chance. + +_Marquis_--And you brought him by chance. [_He rings_.] You are a mother +to me. [_To Dubois_.] You will find an ecclesiastic in Madame's +carriage. Tell him I'm much obliged for his kind alacrity, but I think I +won't die this morning. + +_Baroness_--O Marquis! what would our friends say if they heard you? + +_Marquis_--Bah! I'm the black sheep of the party, its spoiled child; +that's taken for granted. Dubois, you may say also that Madame begs the +Abbé to drive home, and to send her carriage back for her. + +_Baroness_--Allow me-- + +_Marquis_--Go along, Dubois.--Now you are my prisoner. + +_Baroness_--But, Marquis, this is very unconventional. + +_Marquis [kissing her hand_]--Flatterer! Now sit down, and let's talk +about serious things. _[Taking a newspaper from the table_.] The gout +hasn't kept me from reading the news. Do you know that poor Déodat's +death is a serious mishap? + +_Baroness_--What a loss to our cause! + +_Marquis_--I have wept for him. + +_Baroness_--Such talent! Such spirit! Such sarcasm! + +_Marquis_--He was the hussar of orthodoxy. He will live in history as +the angelic pamphleteer. And now that we have settled his noble ghost-- + +_Baroness_--You speak very lightly about it, Marquis. + +_Marquis_--I tell you I've wept for him.--Now let's think of some one to +replace him. + +_Baroness_--Say to succeed him. Heaven doesn't create two such men at +the same time. + +_Marquis_--What if I tell you that I have found such another? Yes, +Baroness, I've unearthed a wicked, cynical, virulent pen, that spits and +splashes; a fellow who would lard his own father with epigrams for a +consideration, and who would eat him with salt for five francs more. + +_Baroness_--Déodat had sincere convictions. + +_Marquis_--That's because he fought for them. There are no more +mercenaries. The blows they get convince them. I'll give this fellow a +week to belong to us body and soul. + +_Baroness_--If you haven't any other proofs of his faithfulness-- + +_Marquis_--But I have. + +_Baroness_--Where from? + +_Marquis_--Never mind. I have it. + +_Baroness_--And why do you wait before presenting him? + +_Marquis_--For him in the first place, and then for his consent. He +lives in Lyons, and I expect him to-day or to-morrow. As soon as he is +presentable, I'll introduce him. + +_Baroness_--Meanwhile, I'll tell the committee of your find. + +_Marquis_--I beg you, no. With regard to the committee, dear Baroness, I +wish you'd use your influence in a matter which touches me. + +_Baroness_--I have not much influence-- + +_Marquis_--Is that modesty, or the exordium of a refusal? + +_Baroness_--If either, it's modesty. + +_Marquis_--Very well, my charming friend. Don't you know that these +gentlemen owe you too much to refuse you anything? + +_Baroness_--Because they meet in my parlor? + +_Marquis_--That, yes; but the true, great, inestimable service you +render every day is to possess such superb eyes. + +_Baroness_--It's well for you to pay attention to such things! + +_Marquis_--Well for me, but better for these Solons whose compliments +don't exceed a certain romantic intensity. + +_Baroness_--You are dreaming. + +_Marquis_--What I say is true. That's why serious societies always rally +in the parlor of a woman, sometimes clever, sometimes beautiful. You are +both, Madame: judge then of your power! + +_Baroness_--You are too complimentary: your cause must be detestable. + +_Marquis_--If it was good I could win it for myself. + +_Baroness_--Come, tell me, tell me. + +_Marquis_--Well, then: we must choose an orator to the Chamber for our +Campaign against the University. I want them to choose-- + +_Baroness_--Monsieur Maréchal? + +_Marquis_--You are right. + +_Baroness_--Do you really think so, Marquis? Monsieur Maréchal? + +_Marquis_--Yes, I know. But we don't need a bolt of eloquence, since +we'll furnish the address. Maréchal reads well enough, I assure you. + +_Baroness_--We made him deputy on your recommendation. That was a good +deal. + +_Marquis_--Maréchal is an excellent recruit. + +_Baroness_--So you say. + +_Marquis_--How disgusted you are! An old subscriber to the +Constitutionnel, a liberal, a Voltairean, who comes over to the enemy +bag and baggage. What would you have? Monsieur Maréchal is not a man, my +dear: it's the stout _bourgeoisie_ itself coming over to us. I love this +honest _bourgeoisie_, which hates the revolution, since there is no more +to be gotten out of it; which wants to stem the tide which brought it, +and make over a little feudal France to its own profit. Let it draw our +chestnuts from the fire if it wants to. This pleasant sight makes me +enjoy politics. Long live Monsieur Maréchal and his likes, _bourgeois_ +of the right divine. Let us heap these precious allies with honor and +glory until our triumph ships them off to their mills again. + +_Baroness_--Several of our deputies are birds of the same feather. Why +choose the least capable for orator? + +_Marquis_--It's not a question of capacity. + +_Baroness_--You're a warm patron of Monsieur Maréchal! + +_Marquis_--I regard him as a kind of family protégé. His grandfather was +farmer to mine. I'm his daughter's guardian. These are bonds. + +_Baroness_--You don't tell everything. + +_Marquis_--All that I know. + +_Baroness_--Then let me complete your information. They say that in old +times you fell in love with the first Madame Maréchal. + +_Marquis_--I hope you don't believe this silly story? + +_Baroness_--Faith, you do so much to please Monsieur Maréchal-- + +_Marquis_--That it seems as if I must have injured him? Good heavens! +Who is safe from malice? Nobody. Not even you, dear Baroness. + +_Baroness_--I'd like to know what they can say of me. + +_Marquis_--Foolish things that I certainly won't repeat. + +_Baroness_--Then you believe them? + +_Marquis_--God forbid! That your dead husband married his mother's +companion? It made me so angry! + +_Baroness_--Too much honor for such wretched gossip. + +_Marquis_--I answered strongly enough, I can tell you. + +_Baroness_--I don't doubt it. + +_Marquis_--But you are right in wanting to marry again. + +_Baroness_--Who says I want to? + +_Marquis_--Ah! you don't treat me as a friend. I deserve your confidence +all the more for understanding you as if you had given it. The aid of a +sorcerer is not to be despised, Baroness. + +_Baroness_ [_sitting down by the table_]--Prove your sorcery. + +_Marquis_ [_sitting down opposite_]--Willingly! Give me your hand. + +_Baroness_ [_removing her glove_]--You'll give it back again. + +_Marquis_--And help you dispose of it, which is more. [_Examining her +hand_.] You are beautiful, rich, and a widow. + +_Baroness_--I could believe myself at Mademoiselle Lenormand's! + +_Marquis_--While it is so easy, not to say tempting, for you to lead a +brilliant, frivolous life, you have chosen a rôle almost austere with +its irreproachable morals. + +_Baroness_--If it was a rôle, you'll admit that it was much like a +penitence. + +_Marquis_--Not for you. + +_Baroness_--What do you know about it? + +_Marquis_--I read it in your hand. I even see that the contrary would +cost you more, for nature has gifted your heart with unalterable +calmness. + +_Baroness_ [_drawing away her hand_]--Say at once that I'm a monster. + +_Marquis_--Time enough! The credulous think you a saint; the skeptics +say you desire power; I, Guy François Condorier, Marquis d'Auberive, +think you a clever little German, trying to build a throne for yourself +in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. You have conquered the men, but the women +resist you: your reputation offends them; and for want of a better +weapon they use this miserable rumor I've just repeated. In short, your +flag's inadequate and you're looking for a larger one. Henry IV. said +that Paris was worth a mass. You think so too. + +_Baroness_--They say sleep-walkers shouldn't be contradicted. However, +do let me say that if I really wanted a husband--with my money and my +social position, I might already have found twenty. + +_Marquis_--Twenty, yes; but not one. You forget this little devil of a +rumor. + +_Baroness [rising]_--Only fools believe that. + +_Marquis [rising]_--There's the _hic_. It's only very clever men, too +clever, who court you, and you want a fool. + +_Baroness_--Why? + +_Marquis_--Because you don't want a master. You want a husband whom you +can keep in your parlor, like a family portrait, nothing more. + +_Baroness_--Have you finished, dear diviner? What you have just said +lacks common-sense, but you are amusing, and I can refuse you nothing. + +_Marquis_--Maréchal shall have the oration? + +_Baroness_--Or I'll lose my name. + +_Marquis_--And you _shall_ lose your name--I promise you. + + +A SEVERE YOUNG JUDGE + +From 'The Adventuress' + +_Clorinde_ [_softly_]--Here's Célie. Look at her clear eyes. I love her, +innocent child! + +_Annibal_--Yes, yes, yes! [_He sits down in a corner._] + +_Clorinde_ [_approaching Célie, who has paused in the doorway_]--My +child, you would not avoid me to-day if you knew how happy you make me! + +_Célie_--My father has ordered me to come to you. + +_Clorinde_--Ordered you? Did you need an order? Are we really on such +terms? Tell me, do you think I do not love you, that you should look +upon me as your enemy? Dear, if you could read my heart you would find +there the tenderest attachment. + +_Célie_--I do not know whether you are sincere, Madame. I hope that you +are not, for it distresses one to be loved by those-- + +_Clorinde_--Whom one does not love? They must have painted me black +indeed, that you are so reluctant to believe in my friendship. + +_Célie_--They have told me--what I have heard, thanks to you, Madame, +was not fit for my young ears. This interview is cruel--Please let me-- + +_Clorinde_--No, no! Stay, Mademoiselle. For this interview, painful to +us both, nevertheless concerns us both. + +_Célie_--I am not your judge, Madame. + +_Clorinde_--Nevertheless you do judge me, and severely! Yes, my life has +been blameworthy; I confess it. But you know nothing of its temptations. +How should you know, sweet soul, to whom life is happy and goodness +easy? Child, you have your family to guard you. You have happiness to +keep watch and ward for you. How should you know what poverty whispers +to young ears on cold evenings! You, who have never been hungry, how +should you understand the price that is asked for a mouthful of bread? + +_Célie_--I don't know the pleadings of poverty, but one need not listen +to them. There are many poor girls who go hungry and cold and keep +from harm. + +_Clorinde_--Child, their courage is sublime. Honor them if you will, but +pity the cowards. + +_Célie_--Yes, for choosing infamy rather than work, hunger, or death! +Yes, for losing the respect of all honest souls! Yes, I can pity them +for not being worthier of pity. + +_Clorinde_--So that's your Christian charity! So nothing in the +world--bitter repentance or agonies of suffering, or vows of sanctity +for all time to come--may obliterate the past? + +_Célie_--You force me to speak without knowledge. But--since I must give +judgment--who really hates a fault will hate the fruit of it. If you +keep this place, Madame, you will not expect me to believe in the +genuineness of your renunciations. + +_Clorinde_--I do not dishonor it. There is no reason why I should leave +it. I have already proved my sincerity by high-minded and generous acts. +I bear myself as my place demands. My conscience is at rest. + +_Célie_--Your good action--for I believe you--is only the beginning of +expiation. Virtue seems to me like a holy temple. You may leave it by a +door with a single step, but to enter again you must climb up a hundred +on your knees, beating your breast. + +_Clorinde_--How rigid you all are, and how your parents train their +first-born never to open the ranks! Oh, fortunate race! impenetrable +phalanx of respectability, who make it impossible for the sinner to +reform! You keep the way of repentance so rough that the foot of poor +humanity cannot tread it. God will demand from you the lost souls whom +your hardness has driven back to sin. + +_Célie_--God, do you say? When good people forgive they betray his +justice. For punishment is not retribution only, but the acknowledgment +and recompense of those fighting ones that brave hunger and cold in a +garret, Madame, yet do not surrender. + +_Clorinde_--Go, child! I cannot bear more-- + +_Célie_--I have said more than I meant to say. Good-by. This is the +first and last time that I shall ever speak of this. + +[_She goes_.] + + +A CONTENTED IDLER + +From 'M. Poirier's Son-in-Law' + +[_The party are leaving the dining-room._] + +_Gaston_--Well, Hector! What do you think of it? The house is just as +you see it now, every day in the year. Do you believe there is a happier +man in the world than I? + +_Duke_--Faith! I envy you; you reconcile me to marriage. + +_Antoinette_ [_in a low voice to Verdelet_]--Monsieur de Montmeyran is a +charming young man! + +_Verdelet_ [_in a low voice_]--He pleases me. + +_Gaston_ [_to Poirier, who comes in last_]--Monsieur Poirier, I must +tell you once for all how much I esteem you. Don't think I'm ungrateful. + +_Poirier_--Oh! Monsieur! + +_Gaston_--Why the devil don't you call me Gaston? And you, too, dear +Monsieur Verdelet, I'm very glad to see you. + +_Antoinette_--He is one of the family, Gaston. + +_Gaston_--Shake hands then, Uncle. + +_Verdelet_ [_aside, giving him his hand_]--He's not a bad fellow. + +_Gaston_--Agree, Hector, that I've been lucky. Monsieur Poirier, I feel +guilty. You make my life one long fête and never give me a chance in +return. Try to think of something I can do for you. + +_Poirier_--Very well, if that's the way you feel, give me a quarter of +an hour. I should like to have a serious talk with you. + +_Duke_--I'll withdraw. + +_Poirier_--No, stay, Monsieur. We are going to hold a kind of family +council. Neither you nor Verdelet will be in the way. + +_Gaston_--The deuce, my dear father-in-law. A family council! You +embarrass me! + +_Poirier_--Not at all, dear Gaston. Let us sit down. + +[_They seat themselves around the fireplace_.] + +_Gaston_--Begin, Monsieur Poirier. + +_Poirier_--You say you are happy, dear Gaston, and that is my greatest +recompense. + +_Gaston_--I'm willing to double your gratification. + +_Poirier_--But now that three months have been given to the joys of the +honeymoon, I think that there has been romance enough, and that it's +time to think about history. + +_Gaston_--You talk like a book. Certainly, we'll think about history if +you wish. I'm willing. + +_Poirier_--What do you intend to do? + +_Gaston_--To-day? + +_Poirier_--And to-morrow, and in the future. You must have some idea. + +_Gaston_--True, my plans are made. I expect to do to-day what I did +yesterday, and to-morrow what I shall do to-day. I'm not versatile, in +spite of my light air; and if the future is only like the present I'll +be satisfied. + +_Poirier_--But you are too sensible to think that the honeymoon can last +forever. + +_Gaston_--Too sensible, and too good an astronomer. But you've probably +read Heine? + +_Poirier_--You must have read that, Verdelet? + +_Verdelet_--Yes; I've read him. + +_Poirier_--Perhaps he spent his life at playing truant. + +_Gaston_--Well, Heine, when he was asked what became of the old full +moons, said that they were broken up to make the stars. + +_Poirier_--I don't understand. + +_Gaston_--When our honeymoon is old, we'll break it up and there'll be +enough to make a whole Milky Way. + +_Poirier_--That is a clever idea, of course. + +_Gaston_--Its only merit is simplicity. + +_Poirier_--But seriously, don't you think that the idle life you lead +may jeopardize the happiness of a young household? + +_Gaston_--Not at all. + +_Verdelet_--A man of your capacity can't mean to idle all his life. + +_Gaston_--With resignation. + +_Antoinette_--Don't you think you'll find it dull after a time, Gaston? + +_Gaston_--You calumniate yourself, my dear. + +_Antoinette_--I'm not vain enough to suppose that I can fill your whole +existence, and I admit that I'd like to see you follow the example of +Monsieur de Montmeyran. + +_Gaston_ [_rising and leaning against the mantelpiece_]--Perhaps you +want me to fight? + +_Antoinette_--No, of course not. + +_Gaston_--What then? + +_Poirier_--We want you to take a position worthy of your name. + +_Gaston_--There are only three positions which my name permits me: +soldier, bishop, or husbandman. Choose. + +_Poirier_--We owe everything to France. France is our mother. + +_Verdelet_--I understand the vexation of a son whose mother remarries; I +understand why he doesn't go to the wedding: but if he has the right +kind of heart he won't turn sulky. If the second husband makes her +happy, he'll soon offer him a friendly hand. + +_Poirier_--The nobility cannot always hold itself aloof, as it begins to +perceive. More than one illustrious name has set the example: Monsieur +de Valcherrière, Monsieur de Chazerolles, Monsieur de Mont Louis-- + +_Gaston_--These men have done as they thought best. I don't judge them, +but I cannot imitate them. + +_Antoinette_--Why not, Gaston? + +_Gaston_--Ask Montmeyran. + +_Verdelet_--The Duke's uniform answers for him. + +_Duke_--Excuse me, a soldier has but one opinion--his duty; but one +adversary--the enemy. + +_Poirier_--However, Monsieur-- + +_Gaston_--Enough, it isn't a matter of politics, Monsieur Poirier. One +may discuss opinions, but not sentiments. I am bound by gratitude. My +fidelity is that of a servant and of a friend. Not another word. [_To +the Duke_.] I beg your pardon, my dear fellow. This is the first time +we've talked politics here, and I promise you it shall be the last. + +_The Duke_ [_in a low voice to Antoinette_]--You've been forced into +making a mistake, Madame. + +_Antoinette_--I know it, now that it's too late. + +_Verdelet_ [_softly, to Poirier_]--Now you're in a fine fix. + +_Poirier_ [_in same tone_]--He's repulsed the first assault, but I don't +raise the siege. + +_Gaston_--I'm not resentful, Monsieur Poirier. Perhaps I spoke a little +too strongly, but this is a tender point with me, and unintentionally +you wounded me. Shake hands. + +_Poirier_--You are very kind. + +_A Servant_--There are some people in the little parlor who say they +have an appointment with Monsieur Poirier. + +_Poirier_--Very well, ask them to wait a moment. [_The servant goes +out_.] Your creditors, son-in-law. + +_Gaston_--Yours, my dear father-in-law. I've turned them over to you. + +_Duke_--As a wedding present. + + +THE FEELINGS OF AN ARTIST + +From 'M. Poirier's Son-in-Law' + +_Poirier_ [_alone_]--How vexatious he is, that son-in-law of mine! and +there's no way to get rid of him. He'll die a nobleman, for he will do +nothing and he is good for nothing.--There's no end to the money he +costs me.--He is master of my house.--I'll put a stop to it. [_He rings. +Enter a servant_.] Send up the porter and the cook. We shall see my +son-in-law! I have set up my back. I've unsheathed my velvet paws. You +will make no concessions, eh, my fine gentleman? Take your comfort! I +will not yield either: you may remain marquis, and I will again become a +_bourgeois_. At least I'll have the pleasure of living to my fancy. + +_The Porter_--Monsieur has sent for me? + +_Poirier_--Yes, François, Monsieur has sent for you. You can put the +sign on the door at once. + +_The Porter_--The sign? + +_Poirier_--"To let immediately, a magnificent apartment on the first +floor, with stables and carriage houses." + +_The Porter_--The apartment of Monsieur le Marquis? + +_Poirier_--You have said it, François. + +_The Porter_--But Monsieur le Marquis has not given the order. + +_Poirier_--Who is the master here, donkey? Who owns this mansion? + +_The Porter_--You, Monsieur. + +_Poirier_--Then do what I tell you without arguing. + +_The Porter_--Yes, Monsieur. [_Enter Vatel_.] + +_Poirier_--Go, François. [_Exit Porter_.] Come in, Monsieur Vatel: you +are getting up a big dinner for to-morrow? + +_Vatel_--Yes, Monsieur, and I venture to say that the menu would not be +disowned by my illustrious ancestor himself. It is really a work of art, +and Monsieur Poirier will be astonished. + +_Poirier_--Have you the menu with you? + +_Vatel_--No, Monsieur, it is being copied; but I know it by heart. + +_Poirier_--Then recite it to me. + +_Vatel_--Le potage aux ravioles à l'Italienne et le potage à l'orge à la +Marie Stuart. + +_Poirier_--You will replace these unknown concoctions by a good meat +soup, with some vegetables on a plate. + +_Vatel_--What, Monsieur? + +_Poirier_--I mean it. Go on. + +_Vatel_--Relevé. La carpe du Rhin à la Lithuanienne, les poulardes à la +Godard--le filet de boeuf braisé aux raisins à la Napolitaine, le jambon +de Westphalie, rotie madère. + +_Poirier_--Here is a simpler and far more sensible fish course: brill +with caper sauce--then Bayonne ham with spinach, and a savory stew of +bird, with well-browned rabbit. + +_Vatel_--But, Monsieur Poirier--I will never consent. + +_Poirier_--I am master--do you hear? Go on. + +_Vatel_--Entrées. Les filets de volaille à la concordat--les croustades +de truffe garniés de foies à la royale, le faison étoffe à la +Montpensier, les perdreaux rouges farcis à la bohemienne. + +_Poirier_--In place of these side dishes we will have nothing at all, +and we will go at once to the roast,--that is the only essential. + +_Vatel_--That is against the precepts of art. + +_Poirier_--I'll take the blame of that: let us have your roasts. + +_Vatel_--It is not worth while, Monsieur: my ancestor would have run his +sword through his body for a less affront. I offer my resignation. + +_Poirier_--And I was about to ask for it, my good friend; but as one has +eight days to replace a servant-- + +_Vatel_--A servant, Monsieur? I am an artist! + +_Poirier_--I will fill your place by a woman. But in the mean time, as +you still have eight days in my service, I wish you to prepare my menu. + +_Vatel_--I will blow my brains out before I dishonor my name. + +_Poirier_ [_aside_]--Another fellow who adores his name! [_Aloud_.] You +may burn your brains, Monsieur Vatel, but don't burn your sauces.--Well, +_bon jour_! [_Exit Vatel_.] And now to write invitations to my old +cronies of the Rue des Bourdonnais. Monsieur le Marquis de Presles, I'll +soon take the starch out of you. + +[_He goes out whistling the first couplet of 'Monsieur and Madame +Denis.'_] + + +A CONTEST OF WILLS + +From 'The Fourchambaults' + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Why do you follow me? + +_Fourchambault_--I'm not following you: I'm accompanying you. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--I despise you; let me alone. Oh! my poor mother +little thought what a life of privation would be mine when she gave me +to you with a dowry of eight hundred thousand francs! + +_Fourchambault_--A life of privation--because I refuse you a yacht! + +_Madame Fourchambault_--I thought my dowry permitted me to indulge a +few whims, but it seems I was wrong. + +_Fourchambault_--A whim costing eight thousand francs! + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Would you have to pay for it? + +_Fourchambault_--That's the kind of reasoning that's ruining me. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Now he says I'm ruining him! His whole fortune +comes from me. + +_Fourchambault_--Now don't get angry, my dear. I want you to have +everything in reason, but you must understand the situation. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--The situation? + +_Fourchambault_--I ought to be a rich man; but thanks to the continual +expenses you incur in the name of your dowry, I can barely rub along +from day to day. If there should be a sudden fall in stocks, I have no +reserve with which to meet it. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--That can't be true! Tell me at once that it +isn't true, for if it were so you would be without excuse. + +_Fourchambault_--I or you? + +_Madame Fourchambault_--This is too much! Is it my fault that you don't +understand business? If you haven't had the wit to make the best use of +your way of living and your family connections--any one else-- + +_Fourchambault_--Quite likely! But I am petty enough to be a scrupulous +man, and to wish to remain one. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Pooh! That's the excuse of all the dolts who +can't succeed. They set up to be the only honest fellows in business. In +my opinion, Monsieur, a timid and mediocre man should not insist upon +remaining at the head of a bank, but should turn the position over +to his son. + +_Fourchambault_--You are still harping on that? But, my dear, you might +as well bury me alive! Already I'm a mere cipher in my family. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--You do not choose your time well to pose as a +victim, when like a tyrant you are refusing me a mere trifle. + +_Fourchambault_--I refuse you nothing. I merely explain my position. Now +do as you like. It is useless to expostulate. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--At last! But you have wounded me to the heart, +Adrien, and just when I had a surprise for you-- + +_Fourchambault_--What is your surprise? [_Aside_: It makes me tremble.] + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Thanks to me, the Fourchambaults are going to +triumph over the Duhamels. + +_Fourchambault_--How? + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Madame Duhamel has been determined this long +time to marry her daughter to the son of the prefect. + +_Fourchambault_--I knew it. What about it? + +_Madame Fourchambault_--While she was making a goose of herself so +publicly, I was quietly negotiating, and Baron Rastiboulois is coming to +ask our daughter's hand. + +_Fourchambault_--That will never do! I'm planning quite a different +match for her. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--You? I should like to know-- + +_Fourchambault_--He's a fine fellow of our own set, who loves Blanche, +and whom she loves if I'm not mistaken. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--You are entirely mistaken. You mean Victor +Chauvet, Monsieur Bernard's clerk? + +_Fourchambault_--His right arm, rather. His _alter ego_. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Blanche did think of him at one time. But her +fancy was just a morning mist, which I easily dispelled. She has +forgotten all about him, and I advise you to follow her example. + +_Fourchambault_--What fault can you find with this young man? + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Nothing and everything. Even his name is absurd. +I never would have consented to be called Madame Chauvet, and Blanche is +as proud as I was. But that is only a detail; the truth is, I won't have +her marry a clerk. + +_Fourchambault_--You won't have! You won't have! But there are two of +us. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Are you going to portion Blanche? + +_Fourchambault_--I? No. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Then you see there are not two of us. As I am +going to portion her, it is my privilege to choose my son-in-law. + +_Fourchambault_--And mine to refuse him. I tell you I won't have your +little baron at any price. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Now it is your turn. What fault can you find +with him, except his title? + +_Fourchambault_--He's fast, a gambler, worn out by dissipation. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Blanche likes him just as he is. + +_Fourchambault_--Heavens! He's not even handsome. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--What does that matter? Haven't I been the +happiest of wives? + +_Fourchambault_--What? One word is as good as a hundred. I won't have +him. Blanche need not take Chauvet, but she shan't marry Rastiboulois +either. That's all I have to say. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--But, Monsieur-- + +_Fourchambault_--That's all I have to say. + +[_He goes out._] + + + + +ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO + +(354-430) + +BY SAMUEL HART + + +St. Augustine of Hippo (Aurelius Augustinus) was born at Tagaste in +Numidia, November 13th, 354. The story of his life has been told by +himself in that wonderful book addressed to God which he called the +'Confessions'. He gained but little from his father Patricius; he owed +almost everything to his loving and saintly mother Monica. Though she +was a Christian, she did not venture to bring her son to baptism; and he +went away from home with only the echo of the name of Jesus Christ in +his soul, as it had been spoken by his mother's lips. He fell deeply +into the sins of youth, but found no satisfaction in them, nor was he +satisfied by the studies of literature to which for a while he devoted +himself. The reading of Cicero's 'Hortensius' partly called him back to +himself; but before he was twenty years old he was carried away into +Manichæism, a strange system of belief which united traces of Christian +teaching with Persian doctrines of two antagonistic principles, +practically two gods, a good god of the spiritual world and an evil god +of the material world. From this he passed after a while into less gross +forms of philosophical speculation, and presently began to lecture on +rhetoric at Tagaste and at Carthage. When nearly thirty years of age he +went to Rome, only to be disappointed in his hopes for glory as a +rhetorician; and after two years his mother joined him at Milan. + +[Illustration: _ST. AUGUSTINE AND HIS MOTHER_. Photogravure from a +Painting by Ary Scheffer.] + +[Illustration] + +The great Ambrose had been called from the magistrate's chair to be +bishop of this important city; and his character and ability made a +great impression on Augustine. But Augustine was kept from acknowledging +and submitting to the truth, not by the intellectual difficulties which +he propounded as an excuse, but by his unwillingness to submit to the +moral demands which Christianity made upon him. At last there came one +great struggle, described in a passage from the 'Confessions' which is +given below; and Monica's hopes and prayers were answered in the +conversion of her son to the faith and obedience of Jesus Christ. On +Easter Day, 387, in the thirty-third year of his life, he was baptized, +an unsubstantiated tradition assigning to this occasion the composition +and first use of the _Te Deum_. His mother died at Ostia as they were +setting out for Africa; and he returned to his native land, with the +hope that he might there live a life of retirement and of simple +Christian obedience. But this might not be: on the occasion of +Augustine's visit to Hippo in 391, the bishop of that city persuaded him +to receive ordination to the priesthood and to remain with him as an +adviser; and four years later he was consecrated as colleague or +coadjutor in the episcopate. Thus he entered on a busy public life of +thirty-five years, which called for the exercise of all his powers as a +Christian, a metaphysician, a man of letters, a theologian, an +ecclesiastic, and an administrator. + +Into the details of that life it is impossible to enter here; it must +suffice to indicate some of the ways in which as a writer he gained and +still holds a high place in Western Christendom, having had an influence +which can be paralleled, from among uninspired men, only by that of +Aristotle. He maintained the unity of the Church, and its true breadth, +against the Donatists; he argued, as he so well could argue, against the +irreligion of the Manichaeans; when the great Pelagian heresy arose, he +defended the truth of the doctrine of divine grace as no one could have +done who had not learned by experience its power in the regeneration and +conversion of his own soul; he brought out from the treasures of Holy +Scripture ample lessons of truth and duty, in simple exposition and +exhortation; and in full treatises he stated and enforced the great +doctrines of Christianity. + +Augustine was not alone or chiefly the stern theologian whom men picture +to themselves when they are told that he was the Calvin of those early +days, or when they read from his voluminous and often illogical writings +quotations which have a hard sound. If he taught a stern doctrine of +predestinarianism, he taught also the great power of sacramental grace; +if he dwelt at times on the awfulness of the divine justice, he spoke +also from the depths of his experience of the power of the divine love; +and his influence on the ages has been rather that of the +'Confessions'--taking their key-note from the words of the first +chapter, "Thou, O Lord, hast made us for Thyself, and our heart is +unquiet until it find rest in Thee"--than that of the writings which +have earned for their author the foremost place among the Doctors of the +Western Church. But his greatest work, without any doubt, is the +treatise on the 'City of God.' The Roman empire, as Augustine's life +passed on, was hastening to its end. Moral and political declension had +doubtless been arrested by the good influence which had been brought to +bear upon it; but it was impossible to avert its fall. "Men's hearts," +as well among the heathen as among the Christians, were "failing them +for fear and for looking after those things that were coming on the +earth." And Christianity was called to meet the argument drawn from the +fact that the visible declension seemed to date from the time when the +new religion was introduced into the Roman world, and that the most +rapid decline had been from the time when it had been accepted as the +religion of the State. It fell to the Bishop of Hippo to write in reply +one of the greatest works ever written by a Christian. Eloquence and +learning, argument and irony, appeals to history and earnest entreaties, +are united to move enemies to acknowledge the truth and to strengthen +the faithful in maintaining it. The writer sets over against each other +the city of the world and the city of God, and in varied ways draws the +contrast between them; and while mourning over the ruin that is coming +upon the great city that had become a world-empire, he tells of the holy +beauty and enduring strength of "the city that hath the foundations." + +Apart from the interest attaching to the great subjects handled by St. +Augustine in his many works, and from the literary attractions of +writings which unite high moral earnestness and the use of a cultivated +rhetorical style, his works formed a model for Latin theologians as long +as that language continued to be habitually used by Western scholars; +and to-day both the spirit and the style of the great man have a wide +influence on the devotional and the controversial style of writers on +sacred subjects. + +He died at Hippo, August 28th, 430. + +[Illustration: signature] + +The selections are from the 'Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers,' +by permission of the Christian Literature Company. + + +THE GODLY SORROW THAT WORKETH REPENTANCE + +From the 'Confessions' + +Such was the story of Pontitianus: but thou, O Lord, while he was +speaking, didst turn me round towards myself, taking me from behind my +back, when I had placed myself, unwilling to observe myself; and setting +me before my face, that I might see how foul I was, how crooked and +defiled, bespotted and ulcerous. And I beheld and stood aghast; and +whither to flee from myself I found not. And if I sought to turn mine +eye from off myself, he went on with his relation, and thou didst again +set me over against myself, and thrusted me before my eyes, that I might +find out mine iniquity and hate it. I had known it, but made as though I +saw it not, winked at it, and forgot it. + +But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful affections I +heard of, that they had resigned themselves wholly to thee to be cured, +the more did I abhor myself when compared with them. For many of my +years (some twelve) had now run out with me since my nineteenth, when, +upon the reading of Cicero's 'Hortensius,' I was stirred to an earnest +love of wisdom; and still I was deferring to reject mere earthly +felicity and to give myself to search out that, whereof not the finding +only, but the very search, was to be preferred to the treasures and +kingdoms of the world, though already found, and to the pleasures of the +body, though spread around me at my will. But I, wretched, most +wretched, in the very beginning of my early youth, had begged chastity +of thee, and said, "Give me chastity and continency, only not yet." For +I feared lest thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure me of the +disease of concupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, rather than +extinguished. And I had wandered through crooked ways in a sacrilegious +superstition, not indeed assured thereof, but as preferring it to the +others which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously. + +But when a deep consideration had, from the secret bottom of my soul, +drawn together and heaped up all my misery in the sight of my heart, +there arose a mighty storm, bringing a mighty shower of tears. And that +I might pour it forth wholly in its natural expressions, I rose from +Alypius: solitude was suggested to me as fitter for the business of +weeping; and I retired so far that even his presence could not be a +burden to me. Thus was it then with me, and he perceived something of +it; for something I suppose he had spoken, wherein the tones of my voice +appeared choked with weeping, and so had risen up. He then remained +where we were sitting, most extremely astonished. I cast myself down I +know not how, under a fig-tree, giving full vent to my tears; and the +floods of mine eyes gushed out, an acceptable sacrifice to thee. And, +not indeed in these words, yet to this purpose, spake I much unto +thee:--"And thou, O Lord, how long? how long, Lord, wilt thou be +angry--forever? Remember not our former iniquities," for I felt that I +was held by them. I sent up these sorrowful words: "How long? how long? +To-morrow and to-morrow? Why not now? why is there not this hour an end +to my uncleanness?" + + +CONSOLATION + +From the 'Confessions' + +So was I speaking, and weeping, in the most bitter contrition of my +heart, when lo! I heard from a neighboring house a voice, as of boy or +girl (I could not tell which), chanting and oft repeating, "Take up and +read; take up and read." Instantly my countenance altered, and I began +to think most intently whether any were wont in any kind of play to sing +such words, nor could I remember ever to have heard the like. So, +checking the torrent of my tears, I arose; interpreting it to be no +other than a command from God, to open the book and read the first +chapter I should find. Eagerly then I returned to the place where +Alypius was sitting; for there had I laid the volume of the Epistles +when I arose thence. I seized, opened, and in silence read that section +on which my eyes first fell:--"Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in +chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying; but put ye on the +Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfill the +lusts thereof." No further would I read; nor heeded I, for instantly at +the end of this sentence, by a light, as it were, of serenity infused +into my heart, all the darkness of doubt vanished away. + +_PAPYRUS_. + +Reduced facsimile of a Latin manuscript containing the + +SERMONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE. + +Sixth Century. In the National Library at Paris. + +A fine specimen of sixth-century writing upon sheets formed of two thin +layers of longitudinal strips of the stem or pith of the papyrus plant +pressed together at right angles to each other. + +[Illustration] + +Then putting my finger between (or some other mark), I shut the volume, +and with a calmed countenance, made it known to Alypius. And what was +wrought in him, which I know not, he thus shewed me. He asked to see +what I had read; I shewed him, and he looked even farther than I had +read, and I knew not what followed. This followed: "Him that is weak in +the faith, receive ye"; which he applied to himself and disclosed to me. +And by this admonition was he strengthened; and by a good resolution and +purpose, and most corresponding to his character, wherein he did always +far differ from me for the better, without any turbulent delay he joined +me. Thence we go to my mother: we tell her; she rejoiceth: we relate in +order how it took place; she leapeth for joy, and triumpheth and +blesseth thee, "who art able to do above all that we ask or think": for +she perceived that thou hadst given her more for me than she was wont to +beg by her pitiful and most sorrowful groanings. + + +THE FOES OF THE CITY + +From 'The City of God' + +Let these and similar answers (if any fuller and fitter answers can be +found) be given to their enemies by the redeemed family of the Lord +Christ, and by the pilgrim city of the King Christ. But let this city +bear in mind that among her enemies lie hid those who are destined to be +fellow-citizens, that she may not think it a fruitless labor to bear +what they inflict as enemies, till they become confessors of the faith. +So also, as long as she is a stranger in the world, the city of God has +in her communion, and bound to her by the sacraments, some who shall not +eternally dwell in the lot of the saints. Of these, some are not now +recognized; others declare themselves, and do not hesitate to make +common cause with our enemies in murmuring against God, whose +sacramental badge they wear. These men you may see to-day thronging the +churches with us, to-morrow crowding the theatres with the godless. But +we have the less reason to despair of the reclamation of even such +persons, if among our most declared enemies there are now some, unknown +to themselves, who are destined to become our friends. In truth, these +two cities are entangled together in this world, and intermingled until +the last judgment shall effect their separation. I now proceed to speak, +as God shall help me, of the rise and progress and end of these two +cities; and what I write, I write for the glory of the city of God, that +being placed in comparison with the other, it may shine with a +brighter lustre. + + +THE PRAISE OF GOD + +From 'The City of God' + +Wherefore it may very well be, and it is perfectly credible, that we +shall in the future world see the material forms of the new heavens and +the new earth, in such a way that we shall most distinctly recognize God +everywhere present, and governing all things, material as well as +spiritual; and shall see Him, not as we now understand the invisible +things of God, by the things that are made, and see Him darkly as in a +mirror and in part, and rather by faith than by bodily vision of +material appearances, but by means of the bodies which we shall wear and +which we shall see wherever we turn our eyes. As we do not believe, but +see, that the living men around us who are exercising the functions of +life are alive, although we cannot see their life without their bodies, +but see it most distinctly by means of their bodies, so, wherever we +shall look with the spiritual eyes of our future bodies, we shall also, +by means of bodily substances, behold God, though a spirit, ruling all +things. Either, therefore, the eyes shall possess some quality similar +to that of the mind, by which they shall be able to discern spiritual +things, and among them God,--a supposition for which it is difficult or +even impossible to find any support in Scripture,--or what is more easy +to comprehend, God will be so known by us, and so much before us, that +we shall see Him by the spirit in ourselves, in one another, in Himself, +in the new heavens and the new earth, in every created thing that shall +then exist; and that also by the body we shall see Him in every bodily +thing which the keen vision of the eye of the spiritual body shall +reach. Our thoughts also shall be visible to all, for then shall be +fulfilled the words of the Apostle, "Judge nothing before the time, +until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of +darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts; and then +shall every man have praise of God." How great shall be that felicity, +which shall be tainted with no evil, which shall lack no good, and which +shall afford leisure for the praises of God, who shall be all in all! +For I know not what other employment there can be where no weariness +shall slacken activity, nor any want stimulate to labor. I am admonished +also by the sacred song, in which I read or hear the words, "Blessed are +they that dwell in Thy house; they will be alway praising Thee." + + +A PRAYER + +From 'The Trinity' + +O Lord our God, directing my purpose by the rule of faith, so far as I +have been able, so far as Thou hast made me able, I have sought Thee, +and have desired to see with my understanding what I have believed; and +I have argued and labored much. O Lord my God, my only hope, hearken to +me, lest through weariness I be unwilling to seek Thee, but that I may +always ardently seek Thy face. Do Thou give me strength to seek, who +hast led me to find Thee, and hast given the hope of finding Thee more +and more. My strength and my weakness are in Thy sight; preserve my +strength and heal my weakness. My knowledge and my ignorance are in Thy +sight; when Thou hast opened to me, receive me as I enter; when Thou +hast closed, open to me as I knock. May I remember Thee, understand +Thee, love Thee. Increase these things in me, until Thou renew me +wholly. But oh, that I might speak only in preaching Thy word and in +praising Thee. But many are my thoughts, such as Thou knowest, "thoughts +of man, that are vain." Let them not so prevail in me, that anything in +my acts should proceed from them; but at least that my judgment and my +conscience be safe from them under Thy protection. When the wise man +spake of Thee in his book, which is now called by the special name of +Ecclesiasticus, "We speak," he says, "much, and yet come short; and in +sum of words, He is all." When therefore we shall have come to Thee, +these very many things that we speak, and yet come short, shall cease; +and Thou, as One, shalt remain "all in all." And we shall say one thing +without end, in praising Thee as One, ourselves also made one in Thee. O +Lord, the one God, God the Trinity, whatever I have said in these books +that is of Thine, may they acknowledge who are Thine; if I have said +anything of my own, may it be pardoned both by Thee and by those who are +Thine. Amen. + + The three immediately preceding citations, from 'A Select + Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the + Christian Church, First Series,' are reprinted by permission + of the Christian Literature Company, New York. + + + + +MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS + +(121-180 A.D.) + +BY JAMES FRASER GLUCK + + +Marcus Aurelius, one of the most illustrious emperors of Rome, and, +according to Canon Farrar, "the noblest of pagan emperors", was born at +Rome April 20th, A.D. 121, and died at Vindobona--the modern +Vienna--March 17th, A.D. 180, in the twentieth year of his reign and the +fifty-ninth year of his age. + +His right to an honored place in literature depends upon a small volume +written in Greek, and usually called 'The Meditations of Marcus +Aurelius.' The work consists of mere memoranda, notes, disconnected +reflections and confessions, and also of excerpts from the Emperor's +favorite authors. It was evidently a mere private diary or note-book +written in great haste, which readily accounts for its repetitions, its +occasional obscurity, and its frequently elliptical style of expression. +In its pages the Emperor gives his aspirations, and his sorrow for his +inability to realize them in his daily life; he expresses his tentative +opinions concerning the problems of creation, life, and death; his +reflections upon the deceitfulness of riches, pomp, and power, and his +conviction of the vanity of all things except the performance of duty. +The work contains what has been called by a distinguished scholar "the +common creed of wise men, from which all other views may well seem mere +deflections on the side of an unwarranted credulity or of an exaggerated +despair." From the pomp and circumstance of state surrounding him, from +the manifold cares of his exalted rank, from the tumult of protracted +wars, the Emperor retired into the pages of this book as into the +sanctuary of his soul, and there found in sane and rational reflection +the peace that the world could not give and could never take away. The +tone and temper of the work is unique among books of its class. It is +sweet yet dignified, courageous yet resigned, philosophical and +speculative, yet above all, intensely practical. + +Through all the ages from the time when the Emperor Diocletian +prescribed a distinct ritual for Aurelius as one of the gods; from the +time when the monks of the Middle Ages treasured the 'Meditations' as +carefully as they kept their manuscripts of the Gospels, the work has +been recognized as the precious life-blood of a master spirit. An +adequate English translation would constitute to-day a most valuable +_vade mecum_ of devotional feeling and of religious inspiration. It +would prove a strong moral tonic to hundreds of minds now sinking into +agnosticism or materialism. + +[Illustration: MARCUS AURELIUS] + +The distinguished French writer M. Martha observes that in the +'Meditations of Marcus Aurelius' "we find a pure serenity, sweetness, +and docility to the commands of God, which before him were unknown, and +which Christian grace has alone surpassed. One cannot read the book +without thinking of the sadness of Pascal and the gentleness of Fénelon. +We must pause before this soul, so lofty and so pure, to contemplate +ancient virtue in its softest brilliancy, to see the moral delicacy to +which profane doctrines have attained." + +Those in the past who have found solace in its pages have not been +limited to any one country, creed, or condition in life. The +distinguished Cardinal Francis Barberini the elder occupied his last +years in translating the 'Meditations' into Italian; so that, as he +said, "the thoughts of the pious pagan might quicken the faith of the +faithful." He dedicated the work to his own soul, so that it "might +blush deeper than the scarlet of the cardinal robe as it looked upon the +nobility of the pagan." The venerable and learned English scholar Thomas +Gataker, of the religious faith of Cromwell and Milton, spent the last +years of his life in translating the work into Latin as the noblest +preparation for death. The book was the constant companion of Captain +John Smith, the discoverer of Virginia, who found in it "sweet +refreshment in his seasons of despondency." Jean Paul Richter speaks of +it as a vital help in "the deepest floods of adversity." The French +translator Pierron says that it exalted his soul into a serene region, +above all petty cares and rivalries. Montesquieu declares, in speaking +of Marcus Aurelius, "He produces such an effect upon our minds that we +think better of ourselves, because he inspires us with a better opinion +of mankind." The great German historian Niebuhr says of the Emperor, as +revealed in this work, "I know of no other man who combined such +unaffected kindness, mildness, and humility with such conscientiousness +and severity toward himself." Renan declares the book to be "a veritable +gospel. It will never grow old, for it asserts no dogma. Though science +were to destroy God and the soul, the 'Meditations of Marcus Aurelius' +would remain forever young and immortally true." The eminent English +critic Matthew Arnold was found on the morning after the death of his +eldest son engaged in the perusal of his favorite Marcus Aurelius, +wherein alone he found comfort and consolation. + +The 'Meditations of Marcus Aurelius' embrace not only moral reflections; +they include, as before remarked, speculations upon the origin and +evolution of the universe and of man. They rest upon a philosophy. This +philosophy is that of the Stoic school as broadly distinguished from the +Epicurean. Stoicism, at all times, inculcated the supreme virtues of +moderation and resignation; the subjugation of corporeal desires; the +faithful performance of duty; indifference to one's own pain and +suffering, and the disregard of material luxuries. With these principles +there was, originally, in the Stoic philosophy conjoined a considerable +body of logic, cosmogony, and paradox. But in Marcus Aurelius these +doctrines no longer stain the pure current of eternal truth which ever +flowed through the history of Stoicism. It still speculated about the +immortality of the soul and the government of the universe by a +supernatural Intelligence, but on these subjects proposed no dogma and +offered no final authoritative solution. It did not forbid man to hope +for a future life, but it emphasized the duties of the present life. On +purely rational grounds it sought to show men that they should always +live nobly and heroicly, and how best to do so. It recognized the +significance of death, and attempted to teach how men could meet it +under any and all circumstances with perfect equanimity. + + * * * * * + +Marcus Aurelius was descended from an illustrious line which tradition +declared extended to the good Numa, the second King of Rome. In the +descendant Marcus were certainly to be found, with a great increment of +many centuries of noble life, all the virtues of his illustrious +ancestor. Doubtless the cruel persecutions of the infamous Emperors who +preceded Hadrian account for the fact that the ancestors of Aurelius +left the imperial city and found safety in Hispania Baetica, where in a +town called Succubo--not far from the present city of Cordova--the +Emperor's great-grandfather, Annius Verus, was born. From Spain also +came the family of the Emperor Hadrian, who was an intimate friend of +Annius Verus. The death of the father of Marcus Aurelius when the lad +was of tender years led to his adoption by his grandfather and +subsequently by Antoninus Pius. By Antoninus he was subsequently named +as joint heir to the Imperial dignity with Commodus, the son of Aelius +Caesar, who had previously been adopted by Hadrian. + +From his earliest youth Marcus was distinguished for his sincerity and +truthfulness. His was a docile and a serious nature. "Hadrian's bad and +sinful habits left him," says Niebuhr, "when he gazed on the sweetness +of that innocent child. Punning on the boy's paternal name of _Verus_, +he called him _Verissimus_, 'the _most_ true.'" Among the many statues +of Marcus extant is one representing him at the tender age of eight +years offering sacrifice. He was even then a priest of Mars. It was the +hand of Marcus alone that threw the crown so carefully and skillfully +that it invariably alighted upon the head of the statue of the god. The +entire ritual he knew by heart. The great Emperor Antoninus Pius lived +in the most simple and unostentatious manner; yet even this did not +satisfy the exacting, lofty spirit of Marcus. At twelve years of age he +began to practice all the austerities of Stoicism. He became a veritable +ascetic. He ate most sparingly; slept little, and when he did so it was +upon a bed of boards. Only the repeated entreaties of his mother induced +him to spread a few skins upon his couch. His health was seriously +affected for a time; and it was, perhaps, to this extreme privation that +his subsequent feebleness was largely due. His education was of the +highest order of excellence. His tutors, like Nero's, were the most +distinguished teachers of the age; but unlike Nero, the lad was in every +way worthy of his instructors. His letters to his dearly beloved teacher +Fronto are still extant, and in a very striking and charming way they +illustrate the extreme simplicity of life in the imperial household in +the villa of Antoninus Pius at Lorium by the sea. They also indicate the +lad's deep devotion to his studies and the sincerity of his love for his +relatives and friends. + +When his predecessor and adoptive father Antoninus felt the approach of +death, he gave to the tribune who asked him for the watchword for the +night the reply "Equanimity," directed that the golden statue of Fortune +that always stood in the Emperor's chamber be transferred to that of +Marcus Aurelius, and then turned his face and passed away as peacefully +as if he had fallen asleep. The watchword of the father became the +life-word of the son, who pronounced upon that father in the +'Meditations' one of the noblest eulogies ever written. "We should," +says Renan, "have known nothing of Antoninus if Marcus Aurelius had not +handed down to us that exquisite portrait of his adopted father, in +which he seems, by reason of humility, to have applied himself to paint +an image superior to what he himself was. Antoninus resembled a Christ +who would not have had an evangel; Marcus Aurelius a Christ who would +have written his own." + + * * * * * + +It would be impossible here to detail even briefly all the manifold +public services rendered by Marcus Aurelius to the Empire during his +reign of twenty years. Among his good works were these: the +establishment, upon eternal foundation, of the noble fabric of the Civil +Law--the prototype and basis of Justinian's task; the founding of +schools for the education of poor children; the endowment of hospitals +and homes for orphans of both sexes; the creation of trust companies to +receive and distribute legacies and endowments; the just government of +the provinces; the complete reform of the system of collecting taxes; +the abolition of the cruelty of the criminal laws and the mitigation of +sentences unnecessarily severe; the regulation of gladiatorial +exhibitions; the diminution of the absolute power possessed by fathers +over their children and of masters over their slaves; the admission of +women to equal rights to succession to property from their children; the +rigid suppression of spies and informers; and the adoption of the +principle that merit, as distinguished from rank or political +friendship, alone justified promotion in the public service. + +But the greatest reform was the reform in the Imperial Dignity itself, +as exemplified in the life and character of the Emperor. It is this fact +which gives to the 'Meditations' their distinctive value. The infinite +charm, the tenderness and sweetness of their moral teachings, and their +broad humanity, are chiefly noteworthy because the Emperor himself +practiced in his daily life the principles of which he speaks, and +because tenderness and sweetness, patience and pity, suffused his daily +conduct and permeated his actions. The horrible cruelties of the reigns +of Nero and Domitian seemed only awful dreams under the benignant rule +of Marcus Aurelius. + +It is not surprising that the deification of a deceased emperor, usually +regarded by Senate and people as a hollow mockery, became a veritable +fact upon the death of Marcus Aurelius. He was not regarded in any sense +as mortal. All men said he had but returned to his heavenly place among +the immortal gods. As his body passed, in the pomp of an imperial +funeral, to its last resting-place, the tomb of Hadrian,--the modern +Castle of St. Angelo at Rome,--thousands invoked the divine blessing of +Antoninus. His memory was sacredly cherished. His portrait was preserved +as an inspiration in innumerable homes. His statue was almost +universally given an honored place among the household gods. And all +this continued during successive generations of men. + + * * * * * + +Marcus Aurelius has been censured for two acts: the first, the massacre +of the Christians which took place during his reign; the second, the +selection of his son Commodus as his successor. Of the massacre of the +Christians it may be said, that when the conditions surrounding the +Emperor are once properly understood, no just cause for condemnation of +his course remains. A prejudice against the sect was doubtless acquired +by him through the teachings of his dearly beloved instructor and friend +Fronto. In the writings of the revered Epictetus he found severe +condemnation of the Christians as fanatics. Stoicism enjoined upon men +obedience to the law, endurance of evil conditions, and patience under +misfortunes. The Christians openly defied the laws; they struck the +images of the gods, they scoffed at the established religion and its +ministers. They welcomed death; they invited it. To Marcus Aurelius, as +he says in his 'Meditations,' death had no terrors. The wise man stood, +like the trained soldier, ready to be called into action, ready to +depart from life when the Supreme Ruler called him; but it was also, +according to the Stoic, no less the duty of a man to remain until he was +called, and it certainly was not his duty to invite destruction by abuse +of all other religions and by contempt for the distinctive deities of +the Roman faith. The Roman State was tolerant of all religions so long +as they were tolerant of others. Christianity was intolerant of all +other religions; it condemned them all. In persecuting what he regarded +as a "pernicious sect" the Emperor regarded himself only as the +conservator of the peace and the welfare of the realm. The truth is, +that Marcus Aurelius enacted no new laws on the subject of the +Christians. He even lessened the dangers to which they were exposed. On +this subject one of the Fathers of the Church, Tertullian, bears +witness. He says in his address to the Roman officials:--"Consult your +annals, and you will find that the princes who have been cruel to us are +those whom it was held an honor to have as persecutors. On the contrary, +of all princes who have known human and Divine law, name one of them who +has persecuted the Christians. We might even cite one of them who +declared himself their protector,--the wise Marcus Aurelius. If he did +not openly revoke the edicts against our brethren, he destroyed the +effect of them by the severe penalties he instituted against their +accusers." This statement would seem to dispose effectually of the +charge of cruel persecution brought so often against the kindly and +tender-hearted Emperor. + +Of the appointment of Commodus as his successor, it may be said that the +paternal heart hoped against hope for filial excellence. Marcus Aurelius +believed, as clearly appears from many passages in the 'Meditations,' +that men did not do evil willingly but through ignorance; and that when +the exceeding beauty of goodness had been fully disclosed to them, the +depravity of evil conduct would appear no less clearly. The Emperor who, +when the head of his rebellious general was brought to him, grieved +because that general had not lived to be forgiven; the ruler who burned +unread all treasonable correspondence, would not, nay, could not believe +in the existence of such an inhuman monster as Commodus proved himself +to be. The appointment of Commodus was a calamity of the most terrific +character; but it testifies in trumpet tones to the nobility of the +Emperor's heart, the sincerity of his own belief in the triumph of right +and justice. + +The volume of the 'Meditations' is the best mirror of the Emperor's +soul. Therein will be found expressed delicately but unmistakably much +of the sorrow that darkened his life. As the book proceeds the shadows +deepen, and in the latter portion his loneliness is painfully apparent. +Yet he never lost hope or faith, or failed for one moment in his duty as +a man, a philosopher, and an Emperor. In the deadly marshes and in the +great forests which stretched beside the Danube, in his mortal sickness, +in the long nights when weakness and pain rendered sleep impossible, it +is not difficult to imagine him in his tent, writing, by the light of +his solitary lamp, the immortal thoughts which alone soothed his soul; +thoughts which have out-lived the centuries--not perhaps wholly by +chance--to reveal to men in nations then unborn, on continents whose +very existence was then unknown, the Godlike qualities of one of the +noblest of the sons of men. + + * * * * * + +The best literal translation of the work into English thus far made is +that of George Long. It is published by Little, Brown & Co. of Boston. A +most admirable work, 'The Life of Marcus Aurelius,' by Paul Barron +Watson, published by Harper & Brothers, New York, will repay careful +reading. Other general works to be consulted are as follows:--'Seekers +After God,' by Rev. F.W. Farrar, Macmillan & Co. (1890); and 'Classical +Essays,' by F.W.H. Myers, Macmillan & Co. (1888). Both of these contain +excellent articles upon the Emperor. Consult also Renan's 'History of +the Origins of Christianity,' Book vii., Marcus Aurelius, translation +published by Mathieson & Co. (London, 1896); 'Essay on Marcus Aurelius' +by Matthew Arnold, in his 'Essays in Criticism,' Macmillan & Co. Further +information may also be had in Montesquieu's 'Decadence of the Romans,' +Sismondi's 'Fall of the Roman Empire,' and Gibbon's 'Decline and Fall of +the Roman Empire.' + +[Illustration: Signature: James F. Gluck] + + +EXCERPTS FROM THE 'MEDITATIONS' + +THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN + +Begin thy morning with these thoughts: I shall meet the meddler, the +ingrate, the scorner, the hypocrite, the envious man, the cynic. These +men are such because they know not to discern the difference between +good and evil. But I know that Goodness is Beauty and that Evil is +Loathsomeness: I know that the real nature of the evil-doer is akin to +mine, not only physically but in a unity of intelligence and in +participation in the Divine Nature. Therefore I know that I cannot be +harmed by such persons, nor can they thrust upon me what is base. I +know, too, that I should not be angry with my kinsmen nor hate them, +because we are all made to work together fitly like the feet, the hands, +the eyelids, the rows of the upper and the lower teeth. To be at strife +one with another is therefore contrary to our real nature; and to be +angry with one another, to despise one another, _is_ to be at strife one +with another. (Book ii,§ I.) + +Fashion thyself to the circumstances of thy lot. The men whom Fate hath +made thy comrades here, love; and love them in sincerity and in truth. +(Book vi., § 39.) + +This is distinctive of men,--to love those who do wrong. And this thou +shalt do if thou forget not that they are thy kinsmen, and that they do +wrong through ignorance and not through design; that ere long thou and +they will be dead; and more than all, that the evil-doer hath really +done thee no evil, since he hath left thy conscience unharmed. (Book +viii., §22.) + + +THE SUPREME NOBILITY OF DUTY + +As A Roman and as a man, strive steadfastly every moment to do thy duty, +with dignity, sincerity, and loving-kindness, freely and justly, and +freed from all disquieting thought concerning any other thing. And from +such thought thou wilt be free if every act be done as though it were +thy last, putting away from thee slothfulness, all loathing to do what +Reason bids thee, all dissimulation, selfishness, and discontent with +thine appointed lot. Behold, then, how few are the things needful for a +life which will flow onward like a quiet stream, blessed even as the +life of the gods. For he who so lives, fulfills their will. (Book +ii., §5.) + +So long as thou art doing thy duty, heed not warmth nor cold, drowsiness +nor wakefulness, life, nor impending death; nay, even in the very act of +death, which is indeed only one of the acts of life, it suffices to do +well what then remains to be done. (Book vi., § 2.) + +I strive to do my duty; to all other considerations I am indifferent, +whether they be material things or unreasoning and ignorant people. +(Book vi., §22.) + + +THE FUTURE LIFE. IMMORTALITY + +This very moment thou mayest die. Think, act, as if this were now to +befall thee. Yet fear not death. If there are gods they will do thee no +evil. If there are not gods, or if they care not for the welfare of men, +why should I care to live in a Universe that is devoid of Divine beings +or of any providential care? But, verily, there are Divine beings, and +they do concern themselves with the welfare of men; and they have given +unto him all power not to fall into any real evil. If, indeed, what men +call misfortunes were really evils, then from these things also, man +would have been given the power to free himself. But--thou sayest--are +not death, dishonor, pain, really evils? Reflect that if they were, it +is incredible that the Ruler of the Universe has, through ignorance, +overlooked these things, or has not had the power or the skill to +prevent them; and that thereby what is real evil befalls good and bad +alike. For true it is that life and death, honor and dishonor, pain and +pleasure, come impartially to the good and to the bad. But none of these +things can affect our lives if they do not affect our true selves. Now +our real selves they do not affect either for better or for worse; and +therefore such things are not really good or evil. (Book ii., §11.) + + * * * * * + +If our spirits live, how does Space suffice for all during all the ages? +Well, how does the earth contain the bodies of those who have been +buried therein during all the ages? In the latter case, the +decomposition and--after a certain period--the dispersion of the bodies +already buried, affords room for other bodies; so, in the former case, +the souls which pass into Space, after a certain period are purged of +their grosser elements and become ethereal, and glow with the glory of +flame as they meet and mingle with the Creative Energy of the world. And +thereby there is room for other souls which in their turn pass into +Space. This, then, is the explanation that may be given, if souls +continue to exist at all. + +Moreover, in thinking of all the bodies which the earth contains, we +must have in mind not only the bodies which are buried therein, but also +the vast number of animals which are the daily food of ourselves and +also of the entire animal creation itself. Yet these, too, Space +contains; for on the one hand they are changed into blood which becomes +part of the bodies that are buried in the earth, and on the other hand +these are changed into the ultimate elements of fire or air. (Book +iv., §21.) + +I am spirit and body: neither will pass into nothingness, since neither +came therefrom; and therefore every part of me, though changed in form, +will continue to be a part of the Universe, and that part will change +into another part, and so on through all the ages. And therefore, +through such changes I myself exist; and, in like manner, those who +preceded me and those who will follow me will exist forever,--a +conclusion equally true though the Universe itself be dissipated at +prescribed cycles of time. (Book v., § 13.) + + * * * * * + +How can it be that the gods, who have clothed the Universe with such +beauty and ordered all things with such loving-kindness for the welfare +of man, have neglected this alone, that the best men--the men who walked +as it were with the Divine Being, and who, by their acts of +righteousness and by their reverent service, dwelt ever in his +presence--should never live again when once they have died? If this be +really true, then be satisfied that it is best that it should be so, +else it would have been otherwise ordained. For whatever is right and +just is possible; and therefore, if it were in accord with the will of +the Divine Being that we should live after death--so it would have been. +But because it is otherwise,--if indeed it be otherwise,--rest thou +satisfied that this also is just and right. + +Moreover, is it not manifest to thee that in inquiring so curiously +concerning these things, thou art questioning God himself as to what is +right, and that this thou wouldst not do didst thou not believe in his +supreme goodness and wisdom? Therefore, since in these we believe, we +may also believe that in the government of the Universe nothing that is +right and just has been overlooked or forgotten. (Book xii., § 5.) + + +THE UNIVERSAL BEAUTY OF THE WORLD + +To him who hath a true insight into the real nature of the Universe, +every change in everything therein that is a part thereof seems +appropriate and delightful. The bread that is over-baked so that it +cracks and bursts asunder hath not the form desired by the baker; yet +none the less it hath a beauty of its own, and is most tempting to the +palate. Figs bursting in their ripeness, olives near even unto decay, +have yet in their broken ripeness a distinctive beauty. Shocks of corn +bending down in their fullness, the lion's mane, the wild boar's mouth +all flecked with foam, and many other things of the same kind, though +perhaps not pleasing in and of themselves, yet as necessary parts of the +Universe created by the Divine Being they add to the beauty of the +Universe, and inspire a feeling of pleasure. So that if a man hath +appreciation of and an insight into the purpose of the Universe, there +is scarcely a portion thereof that will not to him in a sense seem +adapted to give delight. In this sense the open jaws of wild beasts will +appear no less pleasing than their prototypes in the realm of art. Even +in old men and women he will be able to perceive a distinctive maturity +and seemliness, while the winsome bloom of youth he can contemplate with +eyes free from lascivious desire. And in like manner it will be with +very many things which to every one may not seem pleasing, but which +will certainly rejoice the man who is a true student of Nature and her +works. (Book iii., § 2.) + + +THE GOOD MAN + +In the mind of him who is pure and good will be found neither corruption +nor defilement nor any malignant taint. Unlike the actor who leaves the +stage before his part is played, the life of such a man is complete +whenever death may come. He is neither cowardly nor presuming; not +enslaved to life nor indifferent to its duties; and in him is found +nothing worthy of condemnation nor that which putteth to shame. (Book +iii., § 8.) + +Test by a trial how excellent is the life of the good man;--the man who +rejoices at the portion given him in the universal lot and abides +therein, content; just in all his ways and kindly minded toward all men. +(Book iv., § 25.) + +This is moral perfection: to live each day as though it were the last; +to be tranquil, sincere, yet not indifferent to one's fate. (Book +vii., § 69.) + + +THE BREVITY OF LIFE + +Cast from thee all other things and hold fast to a few precepts such as +these: forget not that every man's real life is but the present +moment,--an indivisible point of time,--and that all the rest of his +life hath either passed away or is uncertain. Short, then, the time that +any man may live; and small the earthly niche wherein he hath his home; +and short is longest fame,--a whisper passed from race to race of dying +men, ignorant concerning themselves, and much less really knowing thee, +who died so long ago. (Book iii., § 10.) + + +VANITY OF LIFE + +Many are the doctors who have knit their brows over their patients and +now are dead themselves; many are the astrologers who in their day +esteemed themselves renowned in foretelling the death of others, yet now +they too are dead. Many are the philosophers who have held countless +discussions upon death and immortality, and yet themselves have shared +the common lot; many the valiant warriors who have slain their thousands +and yet have themselves been slain by Death; many are the rulers and the +kings of the earth, who, in their arrogance, have exercised over others +the power of life or death as though they were themselves beyond the +hazard of Fate, and yet themselves have, in their turn, felt Death's +remorseless power. Nay, even great cities--Helice, Pompeii, +Herculaneum--have, so to speak, died utterly. Recall, one by one, the +names of thy friends who have died; how many of these, having closed the +eyes of their kinsmen, have in a brief time been buried also. To +conclude: keep ever before thee the brevity and vanity of human life and +all that is therein; for man is conceived to-day, and to-morrow will be +a mummy or ashes. Pass, therefore, this moment of life in accord with +the will of Nature, and depart in peace: even as does the olive, which +in its season, fully ripe, drops to the ground, blessing its mother, +the earth, which bore it, and giving thanks to the tree which put it +forth. (Book iv., § 48.) + +A simple yet potent help to enable one to despise Death is to recall +those who, in their greed for life, tarried the longest here. Wherein +had they really more than those who were cut off untimely in their +bloom? Together, at last, somewhere, they all repose in death. +Cadicianus, Fabius, Julianus, Lepidus, or any like them, who bore forth +so many to the tomb, were, in their turn, borne thither also. Their +longer span was but trivial! Think too, of the cares thereof, of the +people with whom it was passed, of the infirmities of the flesh! All +vanity! Think of the infinite deeps of Time in the past, of the infinite +depths to be! And in that vast profound of Time, what difference is +there between a life of three centuries and the three days' life of a +little child! (Book iv., § 50.) + + * * * * * + +Think of the Universe of matter!--an atom thou! Think of the eternity of +Time--thy predestined time but a moment! Reflect upon the great plan of +Fate--how trivial this destiny of thine! (Book v., § 24.) + + * * * * * + +All things are enveloped in such darkness that they have seemed utterly +incomprehensible to those who have led the philosophic life--and those +too not a few in number, nor of ill-repute. Nay, even to the Stoics the +course of affairs seems an enigma. Indeed, every conclusion reached +seems tentative; for where is the man to be found who does not change +his conclusions? Think too of the things men most desire,--riches, +reputation, and the like,--and consider how ephemeral they are, how +vain! A vile wretch, a common strumpet, or a thief, may possess them. +Then think of the habits and manners of those about thee--how difficult +it is to endure the least offensive of such people--nay how difficult, +most of all, it is to endure one's self! + +Amidst such darkness, then, and such unworthiness, amidst this eternal +change, with all temporal things and even Time itself passing away, with +all things moving in eternal motion, I cannot imagine what, in all this, +is worthy of a man's esteem or serious effort. (Book v., § 10.) + + +DEATH + +To cease from bodily activity, to end all efforts of will and of +thought, to stop all these forever, is no evil. For do but contemplate +thine own life as a child, a growing lad, a youth, an old man: the +change to each of these periods was the death of the period which +preceded it. Why then fear the death of all these--the death of thyself? +Think too of thy life under the care of thy grandfather, then of thy +life under the care of thy mother, then under the care of thy father, +and so on with every change that hath occurred in thy life, and then ask +thyself concerning any change that hath yet to be, Is there anything to +fear? And then shall all fear, even of the great change,--the change of +death itself,--vanish and flee away. (Book ix., §21.) + + +FAME + +Contemplate men as from some lofty height. How innumerable seem the +swarms of men! How infinite their pomps and ceremonies! How they wander +to and fro upon the deep in fair weather and in storm! How varied their +fate in their births, in their lives, in their deaths! Think of the +lives of those who lived long ago, of those who shall follow thee, of +those who now live in uncivilized lands who have not even heard of thy +name, and, of those who have heard it, how many will soon forget it; of +how many there are who now praise thee who will soon malign thee,--and +thence conclude the vanity of fame, glory, reputation. (Book ix., §30.) + + +PRAYER + +The gods are all-powerful or they are not. If they are not, why pray to +them at all? If they are, why dost thou not pray to them to remove from +thee all desire and all fear, rather than to ask from them the things +thou longest for, or the removal of those things of which thou art in +fear? For if the gods can aid men at all, surely they will grant this +request. Wilt thou say that the removal of all fear and of all desire is +within thine own power? If so, is it not better, then, to use the +strength the gods have given, rather than in a servile and fawning way +to long for those things which our will cannot obtain? And who hath +said to thee that the gods will not _strengthen_ thy will? I say unto +thee, begin to pray that this may come to pass, and thou shalt see what +shall befall thee. One man prays that he may enjoy a certain woman: let +thy prayer be to not have even the desire so to do. Another man prays +that he may not be forced to do his duty: let thy prayer be that thou +mayest not even desire to be relieved of its performance. Another man +prays that he may not lose his beloved son: let thy prayer be that even +the fear of losing him may be taken away. Let these be thy prayers, and +thou shalt see what good will befall thee. (Book ix., §41.) + + +FAITH + +The Universe is either a chaos or a fortuitous aggregation and +dispersion of atoms; or else it is builded in order and harmony and +ruled by Wisdom. If then it is the former, why should one wish to tarry +in a hap-hazard disordered mass? Why should I be concerned except to +know how soon I may cease to be? Why should I be disquieted concerning +what I do, since whatever I may do, the elements of which I am composed +will at last, at last be scattered? But if the latter thought be true, +then I reverence the Divine One; I trust; I possess my soul in peace. +(Book vi., § 10.) + + +PAIN + +If pain cannot be borne, we die. If it continue a long time it becomes +endurable; and the mind, retiring into itself, can keep its own +tranquillity and the true self be still unharmed. If the body feel the +pain, let the body make its moan. (Book vii., §30.) + + +LOVE AND FORGIVENESS FOR THE EVIL-DOER + +If it be in thy power, teach men to do better. If not, remember it is +always in thy power to forgive. The gods are so merciful to those who +err, that for some purposes they grant their aid to such men by +conferring upon them health, riches, and honor. What prevents thee from +doing likewise? (Book ix., §11.) + + +ETERNAL CHANGE THE LAW OF THE UNIVERSE + +Think, often, of how swiftly all things pass away and are no more--the +works of Nature and the works of man. The substance of the +Universe--matter--is like unto a river that flows on forever. All things +are not only in a constant state of change, but they are the cause of +constant and infinite change in other things. Upon a narrow ledge thou +standest! Behind thee, the bottomless abyss of the Past! In front of +thee, the Future that will swallow up all things that now are! Over what +things, then, in this present life, wilt thou, O foolish man, be +disquieted or exalted--making thyself wretched; seeing that they can vex +thee only for a time--a brief, brief time! (Book v., §23.) + + +THE PERFECT LIBERTY OF THE GOOD MAN + +Peradventure men may curse thee, torture thee, kill thee; yet can all +these things not prevent thee from keeping at all times thy thoughts +pure, considerate, sober, and just. If one should stand beside a limpid +stream and cease not to revile it, would the spring stop pouring forth +its refreshing waters? Nay, if such an one should even cast into the +stream mud and mire, would not the stream quickly scatter it, and so +bear it away that not even a trace would remain? How then wilt thou be +able to have within thee not a mere well that may fail thee, but a +fountain that shall never cease to flow? By wonting thyself every moment +to independence in judgment, joined together with serenity of thought +and simplicity in act and bearing. (Book viii., §51.) + + +THE HARMONY AND UNITY OF THE UNIVERSE + +O divine Spirit of the Universe, Thy will, Thy wish is mine! Calmly I +wait Thy appointed times, which cannot come too early or too late! Thy +providences are all fruitful to me! Thou art the source, Thou art the +stay, Thou art the end of all things. The poet says of his native city, +"Dear city of Cecrops"; and shall I not say of the Universe, "Beloved +City of God"? (Book iv., §23.) + +Either there is a predestined order in the Universe, or else it is mere +aggregation, fortuitous yet not without a certain kind of order. For how +within thyself can a certain system exist and yet the entire Universe be +chaos? And especially when in the Universe all things, though separate +and divided, yet work together in unity? (Book iv., §27.) + +Think always of the Universe as one living organism, composed of one +material substance and one soul. Observe how all things are the product +of a single conception--the conception of a living organism. Observe how +one force is the cause of the motion of all things: that all existing +things are the concurrent causes of all that is to be--the eternal warp +and woof of the ever-weaving web of existence. (Book iv., §40.) + + +THE CONDUCT OF LIFE + +Country houses, retreats in the mountains or by the sea--these things +men seek out for themselves; and often thou, too, dost most eagerly +desire such things. But this does but betoken the greatest ignorance; +for thou art able, when thou desirest, to retreat into thyself. No +otherwhere can a man find a retreat more quiet and free from care than +in his own soul; and most of all, when he hath such rules of conduct +that if faithfully remembered, they will give to him perfect +equanimity,--for equanimity is naught else than a mind harmoniously +disciplined. Cease not then to betake thyself to this retreat, there to +refresh thyself. Let thy rules of conduct be few and well settled; so +that when thou hast thought thereon, straightway they will suffice to +thoroughly purify the soul that possesses them, and to send thee back, +restless no more, to the things to the which thou must return. With what +indeed art thou disquieted? With the wickedness of men? Meditate on the +thought that men do not do evil of set purpose. Remember also how many +in the past, who, after living in enmity, suspicion, hatred, and strife +one with another, now lie prone in death and are but ashes. Fret then no +more. But perhaps thou art troubled concerning the portion decreed to +thee in the Universe? Remember this alternative: either there is a +Providence or simply matter! Recall all the proofs that the world is, as +it were, a city or a commonwealth! But perhaps the desires of the body +still torment thee? Forget not, then, that the mind, when conscious of +its real self, when self-reliant, shares not the agitations of the body, +be they great or small. Recall too all thou hast learned (and now +holdest as true) concerning pleasure and pain. But perhaps what men call +Fame allures thee? Behold how quickly all things are forgotten! Before +us, after us, the formless Void of endless ages! How vain is human +praise! How fickle and undiscriminating those who seem to praise! How +limited the sphere of the greatest fame! For the whole earth is but a +point in space, thy dwelling-place a tiny nook therein. How few are +those who dwell therein, and what manner of men are those who will +praise thee! + +Therefore, forget not to retire into thine own little country +place,--thyself. Above all, be not diverted from thy course. Be serene, +be free, contemplate all things as a man, as a lover of his kind, and of +his country--yet withal as a being born to die. Have readiest to thy +hand, above all others, these two thoughts: one, that _things_ cannot +touch the soul; the other, that things are perpetually changing and +ceasing to be. Remember how many of these changes thou thyself hast +seen! The Universe is change. But as thy thoughts are, so thy life shall +be. (Book iv., §3.) + + * * * * * + +All things that befall thee should seem to thee as natural as roses in +spring or fruits in autumn: such things, I mean, as disease, death, +slander, dissimulation, and all other things which give pleasure or pain +to foolish men. (Book iv., §44.) + + * * * * * + +Be thou like a lofty headland. Endlessly against it dash the waves; yet +it stands unshaken, and lulls to rest the fury of the sea. (Book +iv., §49.) + + * * * * * + +"Unhappy me upon whom this misfortune hath fallen!"--nay, rather thou +shouldst say, "Fortunate I, that having met with such a misfortune, I am +able to endure it without complaining; in the present not dismayed, in +the future dreading no evil. Such a misadventure might have befallen a +man who could not, perchance, have endured it without grievous +suffering." Why then shouldst thou call _anything_ that befalls thee a +misfortune, and not the rather a blessing? Is that a "misfortune," in +all cases, which does not defeat the purpose of man's nature? and does +that defeat man's nature which his _Will_ can accept? And what that +_Will_ can accept, thou knowest. Can this misadventure, then, prevent +thy Will from being just, magnanimous, temperate, circumspect, free from +rashness or error, considerate, independent? Can it prevent thy Will +from being, in short, all that becomes a man? Remember, then, should +anything befall thee which might cause thee to complain, to fortify +thyself with this truth: this is not a misfortune, while to endure it +nobly is a blessing. (Book iv., §49.) + + * * * * * + +Be not annoyed or dismayed or despondent if thou art not able to do all +things in accord with the rules of right conduct. When thou hast not +succeeded, renew thy efforts, and be serene if, in most things, thy +conduct is such as becomes a man. Love and pursue the philosophic life. +Seek Philosophy, not as thy taskmaster but to find a medicine for all +thy ills, as thou wouldst seek balm for thine eyes, a bandage for a +sprain, a lotion for a fever. So it shall come to pass that the voice of +Reason shall guide thee and bring to thee rest and peace. Remember, too, +that Philosophy enjoins only such things as are in accord with thy +better nature. The trouble is, that in thy heart thou prefer-rest those +things which are not in accord with thy better nature. For thou sayest, +"What can be more delightful than these things?" But is not the word +"delightful" in this sense misleading? Are not magnanimity, +broad-mindedness, sincerity, equanimity, and a reverent spirit more +"delightful"? Indeed, what is more "delightful" than Wisdom, if so be +thou wilt but reflect upon the strength and contentment of mind and the +happiness of life that spring from the exercise of the powers of thy +reason and thine intelligence? (Book v., §9.) + + * * * * * + +As are thy wonted thoughts, so is thy mind; and the soul is tinged by +the coloring of the mind. Let then thy mind be constantly suffused with +such thoughts as these: Where it is possible for a man to live, there he +can live nobly. But suppose he must live in a palace? Be it so; even +there he can live nobly. (Book v., §16.) + + * * * * * + +Live with the gods! And he so lives who at all times makes it manifest +that he is content with his predestined lot, fulfilling the entire will +of the indwelling spirit given to man by the Divine Ruler, and which is +in truth nothing else than the Understanding--the Reason of man. +(Book v., §27.) + +Seek the solitude of thy spirit. This is the law of the indwelling +Reason--to be self-content and to abide in peace when what is right and +just hath been done. (Book vii., § 28.) + + * * * * * + +Let thine eyes follow the stars in their courses as though their +movements were thine own. Meditate on the eternal transformation of +Matter. Such thoughts purge the mind of earthly passion and desire. +(Book vii., § 45.) + + * * * * * + +Search thou thy heart! Therein is the fountain of good! Do thou but dig, +and abundantly the stream shall gush forth. (Book vii., § 59.) + + * * * * * + +Be not unmindful of the graces of life. Let thy body be stalwart, yet +not ungainly either in motion or in repose. Let not thy face alone, but +thy whole body, make manifest the alertness of thy mind. Yet let all +this be without affectation. (Book vii., § 60.) + + * * * * * + +Thy breath is part of the all-encircling air, and is one with it. Let +thy mind be part, no less, of that Supreme Mind comprehending all +things. For verily, to him who is willing to be inspired thereby, the +Supreme Mind flows through all things and permeates all things as truly +as the air exists for him who will but breathe. (Book viii., § 54.) + + * * * * * + +Men are created that they may live for each other. Teach them to be +better or bear with them as they are. (Book viii., § 59.) + + * * * * * + +Write no more, Antoninus, about what a good man is or what he ought to +do. _Be_ a good man. (Book x., § 16.) + + * * * * * + +Look steadfastly at any created thing. See! it is changing, melting into +corruption, and ready to be dissolved. In its essential nature, it was +born but to die. (Book x., § 18.) + +Co-workers are we all, toward one result. Some, consciously and of set +purpose; others, unwittingly even as men who sleep,--of whom Heraclitus +(I think it is he) says they also are co-workers in the events of the +Universe. In diverse fashion also men work; and abundantly, too, work +the fault-finders and the hinderers,--for even of such as these the +Universe hath need. It rests then with thee to determine with what +workers thou wilt place thyself; for He who governs all things will +without failure place thee at thy proper task, and will welcome thee to +some station among those who work and act together. (Book vi., §42.) + + * * * * * + +Unconstrained and in supreme joyousness of soul thou mayest live though +all men revile thee as they list, and though wild beasts rend in pieces +the unworthy garment--thy body. For what prevents thee, in the midst of +all this, from keeping thyself in profound calm, with a true judgment of +thy surroundings and a helpful knowledge of the things that are seen? So +that the Judgment may say to whatever presents itself, "In truth this is +what thou really art, howsoever thou appearest to men;" and thy +Knowledge may say to whatsoever may come beneath its vision, "Thee I +sought; for whatever presents itself to me is fit material for nobility +in personal thought and public conduct; in short, for skill in work for +man or for God." For all things which befall us are related to God or to +man, and are not new to us or hard to work upon, but familiar and +serviceable. (Book vii., §68.) + + * * * * * + +When thou art annoyed at some one's impudence, straightway ask thyself, +"Is it possible that there should be no impudent men in the world?" It +is impossible. Ask not then the impossible. For such an one is but one +of these impudent persons who needs must be in the world. Keep before +thee like conclusions also concerning the rascal, the untrustworthy one, +and all evil-doers. Then, when it is quite clear to thy mind that such +men must needs exist, thou shalt be the more forgiving toward each one +of their number. This also will aid thee to observe, whensoever occasion +comes, what power for good, Nature hath given to man to frustrate such +viciousness. She hath bestowed upon man Patience as an antidote to the +stupid man, and against another man some other power for good. Besides, +it is wholly in thine own power to teach new things to the one who hath +erred, for every one who errs hath but missed the appointed path and +wandered away. Reflect, and thou wilt discover that no one of these with +whom thou art annoyed hath done aught to debase thy _mind_, and that is +the only real evil that can befall thee. + +Moreover, wherein is it wicked or surprising that the ignorant man +should act ignorantly? Is not the error really thine own in not +foreseeing that such an one would do as he did? If thou hadst but taken +thought thou wouldst have known he would be prone to err, and it is only +because thou hast forgotten to use thy Reason that thou art surprised at +his deed. Above all, when thou condemnest another as untruthful, examine +thyself closely; for upon thee rests the blame, in that thou dost trust +to such an one to keep his promise. If thou didst bestow upon him thy +bounty, thine is the blame not to have given it freely, and without +expectation of good to thee, save the doing of the act itself. What more +dost thou wish than to do good to man? Doth not this suffice,--that thou +hast done what conforms to thy true nature? Must thou then have a +reward, as though the eyes demanded pay for seeing or the feet for +walking? For even as these are formed for such work, and by co-operating +in their distinctive duty come into their own, even so man (by his real +nature disposed to do good), when he hath done some good deed, or in any +other way furthered the Commonweal, acts according to his own nature, +and in so doing hath all that is truly his own. (Book ix., §42.) + +O Man, thou hast been a citizen of this great State, the Universe! What +matters what thy prescribed time hath been, five years or three? What +the law prescribes is just to every one. + +Why complain, then, if thou art sent away from the State, not by a +tyrant or an unjust judge, but by Nature who led thee thither,--even as +the manager excuses from the stage an actor whom he hath employed? + +"But I have played three acts only?" + +True. But in the drama of thy life three acts conclude the play. For +what its conclusion shall be, He determines who created it and now ends +it; and with either of these thou hast naught to do. Depart thou, then, +well pleased; for He who dismisses thee is well pleased also. (Book +xii., §36.) + +Be not disquieted lest, in the days to come, some misadventure befall +thee. The Reason which now sufficeth thee will then be with thee, should +there be the need. (Book vii., §8.) + + * * * * * + +To the wise man the dictates of Reason seem the instincts of Nature. +(Book vii., §11) + + * * * * * + +My true self--the philosophic mind--hath but one dread: the dread lest I +do something unworthy of a man, or that I may act in an unseemly way or +at an improper time. (Book vii., §20.) + + * * * * * + +Accept with joy the Fate that befalls thee. Thine it is and not +another's. What then could be better for thee? (Book vii., §57) + + * * * * * + +See to it that thou art humane to those who are not humane. (Book vii., +§65.) + + * * * * * + +He who does _not_ act, often commits as great a wrong as he who acts. +(Book ix., §5.) + + * * * * * + +The wrong that another has done--let alone! Add not to it thine own. +(Book ix., §20.) + + * * * * * + +How powerful is man! He is able to do all that God wishes him to do. He +is able to accept all that God sends upon him. (Book xii., §11.) + + * * * * * + +A lamp sends forth its light until it is completely extinguished. Shall +Truth and Justice and Equanimity suffer abatement in thee until all are +extinguished in death? (Book xii., §15.) + + + + +JANE AUSTEN + +(1775-1817) + + +The biography of one of the greatest English novelists might be written +in a dozen lines, so simple, so tranquil, so fortunate was her life. +Jane Austen, the second daughter of an English clergyman, was born at +Steventon, in Hampshire, in 1775. Her father had been known at Oxford as +"the handsome proctor," and all his children inherited good looks. He +was accomplished enough to fit his boys for the University, and the +atmosphere of the household was that of culture, good breeding, and +healthy fun. Mrs. Austen was a clever woman, full of epigram and humor +in conversation, and rather famous in her own coterie for improvised +verses and satirical hits at her friends. The elder daughter, Cassandra, +adored by Jane, who was three years her junior, seems to have had a rare +balance and common-sense which exercised great influence over the more +brilliant younger sister. Their mother declared that of the two girls, +Cassandra had the merit of having her temper always under her control; +and Jane the happiness of a temper that never required to be commanded. + +[Illustration: JANE AUSTEN] + +From her cradle, Jane Austen was used to hearing agreeable household +talk, and the freest personal criticism on the men and women who made up +her small, secluded world. The family circumstances were easy, and the +family friendliness unlimited,--conditions determining, perhaps, the +cheerful tone, the unexciting course, the sly fun and good-fellowship of +her stories. + +It was in this Steventon rectory, in the family room where the boys +might be building their toy boats, or the parish poor folk complaining +to "passon's madam," or the county ladies paying visits of ceremony, in +monstrous muffs, heelless slippers laced over open-worked silk +stockings, short flounced skirts, and lutestring pelisses trimmed with +"Irish," or where tradesmen might be explaining their delinquencies, or +farmers' wives growing voluble over foxes and young chickens--it was in +the midst of this busy and noisy publicity, where nobody respected her +employment, and where she was interrupted twenty times in an hour, that +the shrewd and smiling social critic managed, before she was +twenty-one, to write her famous 'Pride and Prejudice.' Here too 'Sense +and Sensibility' was finished in 1797, and 'Northanger Abbey' in 1798. +The first of these, submitted to a London publisher, was declined as +unavailable, by return of post. The second, the gay and mocking +'Northanger Abbey,' was sold to a Bath bookseller for £10, and several +years later bought back again, still unpublished, by one of Miss +Austen's brothers. For the third story she seems not even to have sought +a publisher. These three books, all written before she was twenty-five, +were evidently the employment and delight of her leisure. The serious +business of life was that which occupied other pretty girls of her time +and her social position,--dressing, dancing, flirting, learning a new +stitch at the embroidery frame, or a new air on "the instrument"; while +all the time she was observing, with those soft hazel eyes of hers, what +honest Nym calls the "humors" of the world about her. In 1801, the +family removed to Bath, then the most fashionable watering-place in +England. The gay life of the brilliant little city, the etiquette of the +Pump Room and the Assemblies, regulated by the autocratic Beau Nash, the +drives, the routs, the card parties, the toilets, the shops, the Parade, +the general frivolity, pretension, and display of the eighteenth century +Vanity Fair, had already been studied by the good-natured satirist on +occasional visits, and already immortalized in the swiftly changing +comedy scenes of 'Northanger Abbey.' But they tickled her fancy none the +less, now that she lived among them, and she made use of them again in +her later novel, 'Persuasion.' + +For a period of eight years, spent in Bath and in Southampton, Miss +Austen wrote nothing save some fragments of 'Lady Susan' and 'The +Watsons,' neither of them of great importance. In 1809 the lessened +household, composed of the mother and her two daughters only, removed to +the village of Chawton, on the estate of Mrs. Austen's third son; and +here, in a rustic cottage, now become a place of pilgrimage, Jane Austen +again took up her pen. She rewrote 'Pride and Prejudice.' She revised +'Sense and Sensibility,' and between February 1811 and August 1816 she +completed 'Mansfield Park,' 'Emma,' and 'Persuasion.' At Chawton, as at +Steventon, she had no study, and her stories were written on a little +mahogany desk near a window in the family sitting-room, where she must +often have been interrupted by the prototypes of her Mrs. Allen, Mrs. +Bennet, Miss Bates, Mr. Collins, or Mrs. Norris. When at last she began +to publish, her stories appeared in rapid succession: 'Sense and +Sensibility' in 1811; 'Pride and Prejudice' early in 1813; 'Mansfield +Park' in 1814; 'Emma' in 1816; 'Northanger Abbey' and 'Persuasion' in +1818, the year following her death. In January 1813 she wrote to her +beloved Cassandra:--"I want to tell you that I have got my own darling +child 'Pride and Prejudice' from London. We fairly set at it and read +half the first volume to Miss B. She was amused, poor soul! ... but she +really does seem to admire Elizabeth. I must confess that _I_ think her +as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print, and how I shall be +able to tolerate those who do not like _her_ at least, I do not know." A +month later she wrote:--"Upon the whole, however, I am quite vain +enough, and well satisfied enough. The work is rather too light, and +bright, and sparkling: it wants shade; it wants to be stretched out here +and there with a long chapter of sense, if it could be had; if not, of +solemn, specious nonsense, about something unconnected with the story; +an essay on writing, a critique on Walter Scott, or the history of +Bonaparte, or something that would form a contrast, and bring the reader +with increased delight to the playfulness and epigrammatism of the +general style!" + +Thus she who laughed at everybody else laughed at herself, and set her +critical instinct to estimate her own capacity. To Mr. Clarke, the +librarian of Carlton House, who had requested her to "delineate a +clergyman" of earnestness, enthusiasm, and learning, she replied:--"I am +quite honored by your thinking me capable of drawing such a clergyman as +you gave the sketch of in your note. But I assure you I am not. The +comic part of the character I might be equal to, but not the good, the +enthusiastic, the literary.... I think I may boast myself to be, with +all possible vanity, the most unlearned and uninformed female who ever +dared to be an authoress." And when the same remarkable bibliophile +suggested to her, on the approach of the marriage of the Princess +Charlotte with Prince Leopold, that "an historical romance, illustrative +of the august House of Coburg, would just now be very interesting," she +answered:--"I am fully sensible that an historical romance, founded on +the House of Saxe-Coburg, might be much more to the purpose of profit or +popularity than such pictures of domestic life in country villages as I +deal in. But I could no more write a romance than an epic poem. I could +not sit seriously down to write a serious romance under any other motive +than to save my life; and if it were indispensable to keep it up, and +never relax into laughing at myself or at other people, I am sure that I +should be hung before I had finished the first chapter. No! I must keep +to my own style, and go on in my own way: and though I may never succeed +again in that, I am convinced that I shall totally fail in any other." +And again she writes: "What shall _I_ do with your 'strong, manly, +vigorous sketches, full of variety and glow'? How could I possibly join +them on to the little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which I work +with so fine a brush as produces little effect, after much labor?" + +Miss Austen read very little. She "detested quartos." Richardson, +Johnson, Crabbe, and Cowper seem to have been the only authors for whom +she had an appreciation. She would sometimes say, in jest, that "if ever +she married at all, she could fancy being Mrs. Crabbe!" But her bent of +original composition, her amazing power of observation, her +inexhaustible sense of humor, her absorbing interest in what she saw +about her, were so strong that she needed no reinforcement of culture. +It was no more in her power than it was in Wordsworth's to "gather a +posy of other men's thoughts." + +During her lifetime she had not a single literary friend. Other women +novelists possessed their sponsors and devotees. Miss Ferrier was the +delight of a brilliant Edinboro' coterie. Miss Edgeworth was feasted and +flattered, not only in England, but on the Continent; Miss Burney +counted Johnson, Burke, Garrick, Windham, Sheridan, among the admiring +friends who assured her that no flight in fiction or the drama was +beyond her powers. But the creator of Elizabeth Bennet, of Emma, and of +Mr. Collins, never met an author of eminence, received no encouragement +to write except that of her own family, heard no literary talk, and +obtained in her lifetime but the slightest literary recognition. It was +long after her death that Walter Scott wrote in his journal:--"Read +again, and for the third time at least, Miss Austen's finely written +novel of _Pride and Prejudice_. That young lady had a talent for +describing the involvements and feelings and characters of ordinary life +which is to me the most wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow +strain I can do myself, like any now going; but the exquisite touch +which renders commonplace things and characters interesting from the +truth of the description and the sentiment is denied to me." It was +still later that Macaulay made his famous estimate of her +genius:--"Shakespeare has neither equal nor second; but among those who, +in the point we have noticed (the delineation of character), approached +nearest the great master, we have no hesitation in placing Jane Austen +as a woman of whom England may justly be proud. She has given us a +multitude of characters, all, in a certain sense, commonplace, all such +as we meet every day. Yet they are all as perfectly discriminated from +each other as if they were the most eccentric of human beings.... And +all this is done by touches so delicate that they elude analysis, that +they defy the powers of description, and that we know them to exist only +by the general effect to which they have contributed." And a new +generation had almost forgotten her name before the exacting Lewes +wrote:--"To make our meaning precise, we would say that Fielding and +Jane Austen are the greatest novelists in the English language.... We +would rather have written 'Pride and Prejudice' or 'Tom Jones,' than +any of the Waverley novels.... The greatness of Miss Austen (her +marvelous dramatic power) seems more than anything in Scott akin to +Shakespeare." + +The six novels which have made so great a reputation for their author +relate the least sensational of histories in the least sensational way. +'Sense and Sensibility' might be called a novel with a purpose, that +purpose being to portray the dangerous haste with which sentiment +degenerates into sentimentality; and because of its purpose, the story +discloses a less excellent art than its fellows. 'Pride and Prejudice' +finds its motive in the crass pride of birth and place that characterize +the really generous and high-minded hero, Darcy, and the fierce +resentment of his claims to love and respect on the part of the clever, +high-tempered, and chivalrous heroine, Elizabeth Bennet. 'Northanger +Abbey' is a laughing skit at the school of Mrs. Radcliffe; 'Persuasion,' +a simple story of upper middle-class society, of which the most charming +of her charming girls, Anne Elliot, is the heroine; 'Mansfield Park' a +new and fun-loving version of 'Cinderella'; and finally 'Emma,'--the +favorite with most readers, concerning which Miss Austen said, "I am +going to take a heroine whom no one but myself will much like,"--the +history of the blunders of a bright, kind-hearted, and really clever +girl, who contrives as much discomfort for her friends as stupidity or +ill-nature could devise. + +Numberless as are the novelist's characters, no two clergymen, no two +British matrons, no two fussy spinsters, no two men of fashion, no two +heavy fathers, no two smart young ladies, no two heroines, are alike. +And this variety results from the absolute fidelity of each character to +the law of its own development, each one growing from within and not +being simply described from without. Nor are the circumstances which she +permits herself to use less genuine than her people. What surrounds them +is what one must expect; what happens to them is seen to be inevitable. + +The low and quiet key in which her "situations" are pitched produces one +artistic gain which countervails its own loss of immediate intensity: +the least touch of color shows strongly against that subdued background. +A very slight catastrophe among those orderly scenes of peaceful life +has more effect than the noisier incidents and contrived convulsions of +more melodramatic novels. Thus, in 'Mansfield Park' the result of +private theatricals, including many rehearsals of stage love-making, +among a group of young people who show no very strong principles or +firmness of character, appears in a couple of elopements which break up +a family, occasion a pitiable scandal, and spoil the career of an able, +generous, and highly promising young man. To most novelists an incident +of this sort would seem too ineffective: in her hands it strikes us as +what in fact it is--a tragic misfortune and the ruin of two lives. + +In a word, it is life which Miss Austen sees with unerring vision and +draws with unerring touch; so that above all other writers of English +fiction she seems entitled to the tribute which an Athenian critic gave +to an earlier and more famous realist,-- + + "O life! O Menander! + Which of you two is the plagiarist?" + + +AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE + +From 'Pride and Prejudice' + +The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his +declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as +his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having +no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at the +moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the +observances which he supposed a regular part of the business. On finding +Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, soon +after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words:-- + +"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth, +when I solicit for the honor of a private audience with her in the +course of this morning?" + +Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. +Bennet instantly answered: "Oh, dear. Yes; certainly. I am sure Lizzy +will be very happy--I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I +want you upstairs." And, gathering her work together, she was hastening +away, when Elizabeth called out:-- + +"Dear ma'am, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse +me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am +going away myself." + +"No, no; nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you will stay where you are." And +upon Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about +to escape, she added, "Lizzy, I _insist_ upon your staying and hearing +Mr. Collins." + +Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction; and a moment's +consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get +it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again, and +tried to conceal by incessant employment the feelings which were divided +between distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off; and as +soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began:-- + +"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from +doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You +would have been less amiable in my eyes had there _not_ been this little +unwillingness; but allow me to assure you that I have your respected +mother's permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport +of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to +dissemble: my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as +soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my +future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this +subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for +marrying--and moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of +selecting a wife, as I certainly did." + +The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away +with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not +use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further, and +he continued:-- + +"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for +every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example +of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced it will add +very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly,--which perhaps I ought to +have mentioned earlier,--that it is the particular advice and +recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honor of calling +patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked, +too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I +left Hunsford--between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was +arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool--that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you +must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a +gentlewoman, for _my_ sake; and for your _own_, let her be an active, +useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small +income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as +you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her!' Allow me, by the +way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and +kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the +advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond +anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be +acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect +which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general +intention in favor of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views are +directed to Longbourn instead of my own neighborhood, where, I assure +you, there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as +I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honored father +(who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself +without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that the +loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event +takes place,--which, however, as I have already said, may not be for +several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter +myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now, nothing remains for +me but to assure you, in the most animated language, of the violence of +my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no +demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it +could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the four per +cents., which will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all +that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be +uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous +reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married." + +It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now. + +"You are too hasty, sir," she cried. "You forget that I have made no +answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for +the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honor of +your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than +decline them." + +"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the +hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the +man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their +favor; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a +third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just +said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long." + +"Upon my word, sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is rather an +extraordinary one, after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not +one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so +daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second +time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make _me_ +happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who +would make _you_ so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I +am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the +situation." + +"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said Mr. Collins, +very gravely--"but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all +disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honor of +seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, +economy, and other amiable qualifications." + +"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must +give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of +believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by +refusing your hand do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise. +In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your +feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn +estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be +considered, therefore, as finally settled." And rising as she thus +spoke, she would have quitted the room had not Mr. Collins thus +addressed her:-- + +"When I do myself the honor of speaking to you next on the subject, I +shall hope to receive a more favorable answer than you have now given +me: though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I +know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the +first application; and perhaps you have even now said as much to +encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the +female character." + +"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth, with some warmth, "you puzzle me +exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form +of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as +may convince you of its being one." + +"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your +refusal of my addresses is merely a thing of course. My reasons for +believing it are briefly these:--It does not appear to me that my hand +is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would +be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my +connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your +own, are circumstances highly in my favor; and you should take it into +further consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is +by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. +Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo +the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must +therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I +shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by +suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females." + +"I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind +of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would +rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you +again and again for the honor you have done me in your proposals, but to +accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect +forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant +female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the +truth from her heart." + +"You are uniformly charming!" cried he, with an air of awkward +gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express +authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of +being acceptable." + +To such perseverance in willful self-deception Elizabeth would make no +reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if he +persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering +encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered +in such a manner as must be decisive, and whose behavior at least could +not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female. + + +MOTHER AND DAUGHTER + +From 'Pride and Prejudice' + +[Lydia Bennet has eloped with the worthless rake Wickham, who has no +intention of marrying her.] + +Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes' +conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected: with +tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous +conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own suffering and +ill-usage;--blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging +indulgence the errors of her daughter must be principally owing. + +"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going to Brighton +with all my family, _this_ would not have happened; but poor, dear Lydia +had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out +of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their +side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had +been well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have +the charge of her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor, dear +child! And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight +Wickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed, and what is +to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out, before he is cold +in his grave; and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what +we shall do." + +They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner, after +general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her +that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist Mr. +Bennet in every endeavor for recovering Lydia. + +"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he: "though it is right to be +prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. +It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more, we +may gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married, +and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as +lost. As soon as I get to town, I shall go to my brother, and make him +come home with me, to Grace-church-street, and then we may consult +together as to what is to be done." + +"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I +could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out, +wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, _make_ them +marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but +tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, +after they are married. And above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from +fighting. Tell him what a dreadful state I am in--that I am frightened +out of my wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me, +such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings at +heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear +Lydia not to give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, +for she does not know which are the best warehouses. Oh! brother, how +kind you are! I know you will contrive it all." + +But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavors +in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well in +her hopes as her fears; and after talking with her in this manner till +dinner was on the table, they left her to vent all her feelings on the +housekeeper, who attended, in the absence of her daughters. + +Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real +occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to +oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her +tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it +better that one only of the household, and the one whom they could most +trust, should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the subject. + +In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had been +too busily engaged in their separate apartments to make their appearance +before. One came from her books, and the other from her toilette. The +faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible +in either, except that the loss of her favorite sister, or the anger +which she had herself incurred in the business, had given something more +of fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she was +mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance +of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table:-- + +"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much talked of. +But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of +each other the balm of sisterly consolation." + +Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added, +"Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful +lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable--that one false +step involves her in endless ruin--that her reputation is no less +brittle than it is beautiful--and that she cannot be too much guarded in +her behavior towards the undeserving of the other sex." + +Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to +make any reply. + + +A LETTER OF CONDOLENCE + +From 'Pride and Prejudice' + +MR. COLLINS TO MR. BENNET, ON HIS DAUGHTER'S ELOPEMENT WITH A RAKE + +_My Dear Sir_: + +I feel myself called upon, by our relationship and my situation in life, +to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now suffering +under, of which we were yesterday informed by letter from Hertfordshire. +Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely +sympathize with you, and all your respectable family, in your present +distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a +cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting, on my +part, that can alleviate so severe a misfortune; or that may comfort you +under a circumstance that must be of all others most afflicting to a +parent's mind. The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in +comparison of this. And it is the more to be lamented because there is +reason to suppose, as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this +licentiousness of behavior in your daughter has proceeded from a faulty +degree of indulgence; though at the same time, for the consolation of +yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own +disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an +enormity at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are grievously +to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but +likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have related the +affair. They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one +daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, +as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves +with such a family? And this consideration leads me, moreover, to +reflect with augmented satisfaction on a certain event of last November; +for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your sorrows +and disgrace. Let me advise you, then, my dear sir, to console yourself +as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child from your +affection forever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own +heinous offense. + +I am, dear sir, etc., etc. + + +A WELL-MATCHED SISTER AND BROTHER + +From 'Northanger Abbey' + +"My dearest Catherine, have you settled what to wear on your head +to-night? I am determined, at all events, to be dressed exactly like +you. The men take notice of _that_ sometimes, you know." + +"But it does not signify if they do," said Catherine, very innocently. + +"Signify! oh, heavens! I make it a rule never to mind what they say. +They are very often amazingly impertinent, if you do not treat them with +spirit, and make them keep their distance." + +"Are they? Well I never observed _that_. They always behave very well to +me." + +"Oh! they give themselves such airs. They are the most conceited +creatures in the world, and think themselves of so much importance! By +the by, though I have thought of it a hundred times, I have always +forgot to ask you what is your favorite complexion in a man. Do you like +them best dark or fair?" + +"I hardly know. I never much thought about it. Something between both, I +think--brown: not fair, and not very dark." + +"Very well, Catherine. That is exactly he. I have not forgot your +description of Mr. Tilney: 'a brown skin, with dark eyes, and rather +dark hair.' Well, my taste is different. I prefer light eyes; and as to +complexion, do you know, I like a sallow better than any other. You must +not betray me, if you should ever meet with one of your acquaintance +answering that description." + +"Betray you! What do you mean?" + +"Nay, do not distress me. I believe I have said too much. Let us drop +the subject." + +Catherine, in some amazement, complied; and after remaining a few +moments silent, was on the point of reverting to what interested her at +that time rather more than anything else in the world, Laurentina's +skeleton, when her friend prevented her by saying, "For Heaven's sake! +let us move away from this end of the room. Do you know, there are two +odious young men who have been staring at me this half-hour. They really +put me quite out of countenance. Let us go and look at the arrivals. +They will hardly follow us there." + +Away they walked to the book; and while Isabella examined the names, it +was Catherine's employment to watch the proceedings of these alarming +young men. + +"They are not coming this way, are they? I hope they are not so +impertinent as to follow us. Pray let me know if they are coming. I am +determined I will not look up." + +In a few moments Catherine, with unaffected pleasure, assured her that +she need not be longer uneasy, as the gentlemen had just left the +Pump-room. + +"And which way are they gone?" said Isabella, turning hastily round. +"One was a very good-looking young man." + +"They went towards the churchyard." + +"Well, I am amazingly glad I have got rid of them! And now what say you +to going to Edgar's Buildings with me, and looking at my new hat? You +said you should like to see it." + +Catherine readily agreed. "Only," she added, "perhaps we may overtake +the two young men." + +"Oh! never mind that. If we make haste, we shall pass by them presently, +and I am dying to show you my hat." + +"But if we only wait a few minutes, there will be no danger of our +seeing them at all." + +"I shall not pay them any such compliment, I assure you. I have no +notion of treating men with such respect. _That_ is the way to +spoil them." + +Catherine had nothing to oppose against such reasoning; and therefore, +to show the independence of Miss Thorpe, and her resolution of humbling +the sex, they set off immediately, as fast as they could walk, in +pursuit of the two young men. + +Half a minute conducted them through the Pump-yard to the archway, +opposite Union Passage; but here they were stopped. Everybody acquainted +with Bath may remember the difficulties of crossing Cheap Street at this +point; it is indeed a street of so impertinent a nature, so +unfortunately connected with the great London and Oxford roads, and the +principal inn of the city, that a day never passes in which parties of +ladies, however important their business, whether in quest of pastry, +millinery, or even (as in the present case) of young men, are not +detained on one side or other by carriages, horsemen, or carts. This +evil had been felt and lamented, at least three times a day, by Isabella +since her residence in Bath: and she was now fated to feel and lament it +once more; for at the very moment of coming opposite to Union Passage, +and within view of the two gentlemen who were proceeding through the +crowds and treading the gutters of that interesting alley, they were +prevented crossing by the approach of a gig, driven along on bad +pavements by a most knowing-looking coachman, with all the vehemence +that could most fitly endanger the lives of himself, his companion, and +his horse. + +"Oh, these odious gigs!" said Isabella, looking up, "how I detest them!" +But this detestation, though so just, was of short duration, for she +looked again, and exclaimed, "Delightful! Mr. Morland and my brother!" + +"Good Heaven! 'tis James!" was uttered at the same moment by Catherine; +and on catching the young men's eyes, the horse was immediately checked +with a violence which almost threw him on his haunches; and the servant +having now scampered up, the gentlemen jumped out, and the equipage was +delivered to his care. + +Catherine, by whom this meeting was wholly unexpected, received her +brother with the liveliest pleasure; and he, being of a very amiable +disposition, and sincerely attached to her, gave every proof on his side +of equal satisfaction, which he could have leisure to do, while the +bright eyes of Miss Thorpe were incessantly challenging his notice; and +to her his devoirs were speedily paid, with a mixture of joy and +embarrassment which might have informed Catherine, had she been more +expert in the development of other people's feelings, and less simply +engrossed by her own, that her brother thought her friend quite as +pretty as she could do herself. + +John Thorpe, who in the mean time had been giving orders about the +horse, soon joined them, and from him she directly received the amends +which were her due; for while he slightly and carelessly touched the +hand of Isabella, on her he bestowed a whole scrape and half a short +bow. He was a stout young man, of middling height, who, with a plain +face and ungraceful form, seemed fearful of being too handsome unless he +wore the dress of a groom, and too much like a gentleman unless he were +easy where he ought to be civil, and impudent where he might be allowed +to be easy. He took out his watch:--"How long do you think we have been +running in from Tetbury, Miss Morland?" + +"I do not know the distance." Her brother told her that it was +twenty-three miles. + +"_Three_-and-twenty!" cried Thorpe; "five-and-twenty if it is an inch." +Morland remonstrated, pleaded the authority of road-books, innkeepers, +and milestones: but his friend disregarded them all; he had a surer test +of distance. "I know it must be five-and-twenty," said he, "by the time +we have been doing it." "It is now half after one; we drove out of the +inn-yard at Tetbury as the town-clock struck eleven; and I defy any man +in England to make my horse go less than ten miles an hour in harness; +that makes it exactly twenty-five." + +"You have lost an hour," said Morland: "it was only ten o'clock when we +came from Tetbury." + +"Ten o'clock! it was eleven, upon my soul! I counted every stroke. This +brother of yours would persuade me out of my senses, Miss Morland. Do +but look at my horse: did you ever see an animal so made for speed in +your life?" (The servant had just mounted the carriage and was driving +off.) "Such true blood! Three hours and a half, indeed, coming only +three-and-twenty miles! Look at that creature, and suppose it possible, +if you can!" + +"He _does_ look very hot, to be sure." + +"Hot! he had not turned a hair till we came to Walcot Church: but look +at his forehand; look at his loins; only see how he moves: that horse +_cannot_ go less than ten miles an hour; tie his legs, and he will get +on. What do you think of my gig, Miss Morland? A neat one, is it not? +Well hung; town built: I have not had it a month. It was built for a +Christ Church man, a friend of mine, a very good sort of fellow; he ran +it a few weeks, till, I believe, it was convenient to have done with it. +I happened just then to be looking out for some light thing of the kind, +though I had pretty well determined on a curricle too; but I chanced to +meet him on Magdalen Bridge, as he was driving into Oxford, last term: +'Ah, Thorpe,' said he, 'do you happen to want such a little thing as +this? It is a capital one of the kind, but I am cursed tired of it.' +'Oh! d----,' said I, 'I am your man; what do you ask?' And how much do +you think he did, Miss Morland?" + +"I am sure I cannot guess at all." + +"Curricle-hung, you see; seat, trunk, sword-case, splashing-board, +lamps, silver molding, all, you see, complete; the ironwork as good as +new, or better. He asked fifty guineas: I closed with him directly, +threw down the money, and the carriage was mine." + +"And I am sure," said Catherine, "I know so little of such things, that +I cannot judge whether it was cheap or dear." + +"Neither one nor t'other; I might have got it for less, I dare say; but +I hate haggling, and poor Freeman wanted cash." + +"That was very good-natured of you," said Catherine, quite pleased. + +"Oh! d---- it, when one has the means of doing a kind thing by a friend, +I hate to be pitiful." + +An inquiry now took place into the intended movements of the young +ladies; and on finding whither they were going, it was decided that the +gentlemen should accompany them to Edgar's Buildings, and pay their +respects to Mrs. Thorpe. James and Isabella led the way; and so well +satisfied was the latter with her lot, so contentedly was she +endeavoring to insure a pleasant walk to him who brought the double +recommendation of being her brother's friend and her friend's brother, +so pure and uncoquettish were her feelings, that though they overtook +and passed the two offending young men in Milsom Street, she was so far +from seeking to attract their notice that she looked back at them only +three times. + +John Thorpe kept of course with Catherine, and after a few minutes' +silence renewed the conversation about his gig:--"You will find, +however, Miss Morland, it would be reckoned a cheap thing by some +people, for I might have sold it for ten guineas more the next day; +Jackson of Oriel bid me sixty at once; Morland was with me at the time." + +"Yes," said Morland, who overheard this; "bet you forgot that your horse +was included." + +"My horse! oh, d---- it! I would not sell my horse for a hundred. Are +you fond of an open carriage, Miss Morland?" + +"Yes, very: I have hardly ever an opportunity of being in one; but I am +particularly fond of it." + +"I am glad of it: I will drive you out in mine every day." + +"Thank you," said Catherine, in some distress, from a doubt of the +propriety of accepting such an offer. + +"I will drive you up Lansdown Hill to-morrow." + +"Thank you; but will not your horse want rest?" + +"Rest! he has only come three-and-twenty miles to-day; all nonsense: +nothing ruins horses so much as rest; nothing knocks them up so soon. +No, no: I shall exercise mine at the average of four hours every day +while I am here." + +"Shall you, indeed!" said Catherine, very seriously: "that will be +forty miles a day." + +"Forty! ay, fifty, for what I care. Well, I will drive you up Lansdown +to-morrow; mind, I am engaged." + +"How delightful that will be!" cried Isabella, turning round; "my +dearest Catherine, I quite envy you; but I am afraid, brother, you will +not have room for a third." + +"A third, indeed! no, no; I did not come to Bath to drive my sisters +about: that would be a good joke, faith! Morland must take care of you." + +This brought on a dialogue of civilities between the other two; but +Catherine heard neither the particulars nor the result. Her companion's +discourse now sunk from its hitherto animated pitch to nothing more than +a short, decisive sentence of praise or condemnation on the face of +every women they met; and Catherine, after listening and agreeing as +long as she could, with all the civility and deference of the youthful +female mind, fearful of hazarding an opinion of its own in opposition to +that of a self-assured man, especially where the beauty of her own sex +is concerned, ventured at length to vary the subject by a question which +had been long uppermost in her thoughts. It was, "Have you ever read +'Udolpho,' Mr. Thorpe?" + +"'Udolpho'! O Lord! not I: I never read novels; I have something else to +do." + +Catherine, humbled and ashamed, was going to apologize for her question; +but he prevented her by saying, "Novels are all so full of nonsense and +stuff! there has not been a tolerable decent one come out since 'Tom +Jones,' except the 'Monk'; I read that t'other day: but as for all the +others, they are the stupidest things in creation." + +"I think you must like 'Udolpho,' if you were to read it: it is so very +interesting." + +"Not I, faith! No, if I read any, it shall be Mrs. Radcliffe's; her +novels are amusing enough: they are worth reading; some fun and nature +in _them_. + +"'Udolpho' was written by Mrs. Radcliffe," said Catherine, with some +hesitation, from the fear of mortifying him. + +"No, sure; was it? Ay, I remember, so it was; I was thinking of that +other stupid book, written by that woman they made such a fuss about; +she who married the French emigrant." + +"I suppose you mean 'Camilla'?" + +"Yes, that's the book: such unnatural stuff! An old man playing at +see-saw: I took up the first volume once, and looked it over, but I soon +found it would not do; indeed, I guessed what sort of stuff it must be +before I saw it; as soon as I heard she had married an emigrant, I was +sure I should never be able to get through it." + +"I have never read it." + +"You have no loss, I assure you; it is the horridest nonsense you can +imagine: there is nothing in the world in it but an old man's playing at +see-saw and learning Latin; upon my soul, there is not." + +This critique, the justness of which was unfortunately lost on poor +Catherine, brought them to the door of Mrs. Thorpe's lodgings, and the +feelings of the discerning and unprejudiced reader of 'Camilla' gave way +to the feelings of the dutiful and affectionate son, as they met Mrs. +Thorpe, who had descried them from above, in the passage. "Ah, mother, +how do you do?" said he, giving her a hearty shake of the hand; "where +did you get that quiz of a hat? it makes you look like an old witch. +Here is Morland and I come to stay a few days with you; so you must look +out for a couple of good beds somewhere near." And this address seemed +to satisfy all the fondest wishes of the mother's heart, for she +received him with the most delighted and exulting affection. On his two +younger sisters he then bestowed an equal portion of his fraternal +tenderness, for he asked each of them how they did, and observed that +they both looked very ugly. + + +FAMILY DOCTORS + +From 'Emma' + +While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse was enjoying a +full flow of happy regrets and tearful affection with his daughter. + +"My poor, dear Isabella," said he, fondly taking her hand, and +interrupting for a few moments her busy labors for some one of her five +children, "how long it is, how terribly long since you were here! And +how tired you must be after your journey! You must go to bed early, my +dear,--and I recommend a little gruel to you before you go. You and I +will have a nice basin of gruel together. My dear Emma, suppose we all +have a little gruel." + +Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did that both the +Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as herself, and two +basins only were ordered. After a little more discourse in praise of +gruel, with some wondering at its not being taken every evening by +everybody, he proceeded to say, with an air of grave reflection:-- + +"It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn at South +End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of the sea air." + +"Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir, or we should not +have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for +the weakness in little Bella's throat,--both sea air and bathing." + +"Ah, my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her any +good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, though +perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very rarely of use +to anybody. I am sure it almost killed me once." + +"Come, come," cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, "I must +beg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and miserable; I who +have never seen it! South End is prohibited, if you please. My dear +Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry after Mr. Perry yet; and +he never forgets you." + +"Oh, good Mr. Perry, how is he, sir?" + +"Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he has +not time to take care of himself; he tells me he has not time to take +care of himself--which is very sad--but he is always wanted all round +the country. I suppose there is not a man in such practice anywhere. But +then, there is not so clever a man anywhere." + +"And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? Do the children grow? I +have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be calling soon. He +will be so pleased to see my little ones." + +"I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to ask +him about myself of some consequence. And, my dear, whenever he comes, +you had better let him look at little Bella's throat." + +"Oh, my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly any +uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the greatest service to +her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent embrocation of Mr. +Wingfield's, which we have been applying at times ever since August." + +"It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been of use to +her; and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, I would have +spoken to--" + +"You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. and Miss Bates," said Emma: "I +have not heard one inquiry after them." + +"Oh, the good Bateses--I am quite ashamed of myself; but you mention +them in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. Good old Mrs. +Bates. I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my children. They are +always so pleased to see my children. And that excellent Miss +Bates!--such thorough worthy people! How are they, sir?" + +"Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole. But poor Mrs. Bates had a +bad cold about a month ago." + +"How sorry I am! but colds were never so prevalent as they have been +this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he had never known them more +general or heavy, except when it has been quite an influenza." + +"That has been a good deal the case, my dear, but not to the degree you +mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy +as he has very often known them in November. Perry does not call it +altogether a sickly season." + +"No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it _very_ sickly, +except--" + +"Ah, my poor, dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always a +sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a +dreadful thing to have you forced to live there;--so far off!--and the +air so bad!" + +"No, indeed, _we_ are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is so +very superior to most others. You must not confound us with London in +general, my dear sir. The neighborhood of Brunswick Square is very +different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be +unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town; there is hardly +any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in: but _we_ are +so remarkably airy! Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of Brunswick +Square decidedly the most favorable as to air." + +"Ah, my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of it--but +after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you different +creatures; you do not look like the same. Now, I cannot say that I think +you are any of you looking well at present." + +"I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those +little nervous headaches and palpitations which I am never entirely free +from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were rather +pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were a little +more tired than usual from their journey and the happiness of coming. I +hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow; for I assure you +Mr. Wingfield told me that he did not believe he had ever sent us off, +altogether, in such good case. I trust at least that you do not think +Mr. Knightley looking ill," turning her eyes with affectionate anxiety +toward her husband. + +"Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr. John Knightley +very far from looking well." + +"What is the matter, sir? Did you speak to me?" cried Mr. John +Knightley, hearing his own name. + +"I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you looking +well; but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued. I could have +wished, however, as you know, that you had seen Mr. Wingfield before you +left home." + +"My dear Isabella," exclaimed he hastily, "pray do not concern yourself +about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourself and +the children, and let me look as I choose." + +"I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your brother," +cried Emma, "about your friend Mr. Graham's intending to have a bailiff +from Scotland to look after his new estate. But will it answer? Will not +the old prejudice be too strong?" + +And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forced to +give her attention again to her father and sister, she had nothing worse +to hear than Isabella's kind inquiry after Jane Fairfax; and Jane +Fairfax, though no great favorite with her in general, she was at that +moment very happy to assist in praising. + +"That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!" said Mrs. John Knightley. "It is so +long since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment +accidentally in town. What happiness it must be to her good old +grandmother and excellent aunt when she comes to visit them! I always +regret excessively, on dear Emma's account, that she cannot be more at +Highbury; but now their daughter is married I suppose Colonel and Mrs. +Campbell will not be able to part with her at all. She would be such a +delightful companion for Emma." + +Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added:-- + +"Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another pretty +kind of young person. You will like Harriet. Emma could not have a +better companion than Harriet." + +"I am most happy to hear it; but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be so +very accomplished and superior, and exactly Emma's age." + +This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similar +moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did not +close without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied +a great deal to be said--much praise and many comments--undoubting +decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution, and pretty severe +philippies upon the many houses where it was never met with tolerably; +but unfortunately, among the failures which the daughter had to +instance, the most recent and therefore most prominent was in her own +cook at South End, a young woman hired for the time, who never had been +able to understand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth gruel, thin, +but not too thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered it, she had +never been able to get anything tolerable. Here was a dangerous opening. + +"Ah," said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head, and fixing his eyes on her +with tender concern. The ejaculation in Emma's ear expressed, "Ah, there +is no end of the sad consequences of your going to South End. It does +not bear talking of." And for a little while she hoped he would not talk +of it, and that a silent rumination might suffice to restore him to the +relish of his own smooth gruel. After an interval of some minutes, +however, he began with-- + +"I shall always be very sorry that you went to the sea this autumn, +instead of coming here." + +"But why should you be sorry, sir? I assure you it did the children a +great deal of good." + +"And moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not have been to +South End. South End is an unhealthy place. Perry was surprised to hear +you had fixed upon South End." + +"I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is quite +a mistake, sir. We all had our health perfectly well there, never found +the least inconvenience from the mud, and Mr. Wingfield says it is +entirely a mistake to suppose the place unhealthy; and I am sure he may +be depended on, for he thoroughly understands the nature of the air, and +his own brother and family have been there repeatedly." + +"You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere. Perry +was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of all the +sea-bathing places. A fine open sea, he says, and very pure air. And by +what I understand, you might have had lodgings there quite away from the +sea--a quarter of a mile off--very comfortable. You should have +consulted Perry." + +"But my dear sir, the difference of the journey: only consider how great +it would have been. A hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty." + +"Ah, my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else +should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to +choose between forty miles and a hundred. Better not move at all, better +stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get into a worse +air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to him a very +ill-judged measure." + +Emma's attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he had +reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her +brother-in-law's breaking out. + +"Mr. Perry," said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, "would do +as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why does he make it +any business of his to wonder at what I do at my taking my family to one +part of the coast or another? I may be allowed, I hope, the use of my +judgment as well as Mr. Perry. I want his directions no more than his +drugs." He paused, and growing cooler in a moment, added, with only +sarcastic dryness, "If Mr. Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and +five children a distance of a hundred and thirty miles with no greater +expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as +willing to prefer Cromer to South End as he could himself." + +"True, true," cried Mr. Knightley, with most ready interposition, "very +true. That's a consideration, indeed. But, John, as to what I was +telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more +to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot +conceive any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the +means of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind +exactly the present light of the path--The only way of proving it, +however, will be to turn to our maps. I shall see you at the Abbey +to-morrow morning, I hope, and then we will look them over, and you +shall give me your opinion." + +Mr. Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on his +friend Perry, to whom he had in fact, though unconsciously, been +attributing many of his own feelings and expressions; but the soothing +attentions of his daughters gradually removed the present evil, and the +immediate alertness of one brother, and better recollections of the +other, prevented any renewal of it. + + +FAMILY TRAINING + +From 'Mansfield Park' + +As her [Fanny Price's] appearance and spirits improved, Sir Thomas and +Mrs. Norris thought with greater satisfaction of their benevolent plan; +and it was pretty soon decided between them, that though far from +clever, she showed a tractable disposition, and seemed likely to give +them little trouble. A mean opinion of her abilities was not confined to +_them_. Fanny could read, work, and write, but she had been taught +nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant of many things with +which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, +and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some +fresh report of it into the drawing-room. + +"Dear mamma, only think, my cousin cannot put the map of Europe +together"--or "my cousin cannot tell the principal rivers in Russia"--or +"she never heard of Asia Minor"--or "she does not know the difference +between water-colors and crayons! How strange! Did you ever hear +anything so stupid?" + +"My dear," their aunt would reply, "it is very bad, but you must not +expect everybody to be as quick at learning as yourself." + +"But, aunt, she is really so very ignorant! Do you know, we asked her +last night which way she would go to get to Ireland; and she said she +should cross to the Isle of Wight. She thinks of nothing but the Isle of +Wight, and she calls it _the Island_, as if there were no other island +in the world. I am sure I should have been ashamed of myself, if I had +not known better long before I was so old as she is. I cannot remember +the time when I did not know a great deal that she has not the least +notion of yet. How long ago it is, aunt, since we used to repeat the +chronological order of the kings of England, with the dates of their +accession, and most of the principal events of their reigns!" + +"Yes," added the other; "and of the Roman emperors as low as Severus; +besides a great deal of the heathen mythology, and all the metals, +semi-metals, planets, and distinguished philosophers." + +"Very true, indeed, my dears, but you are blessed with wonderful +memories, and your poor cousin has probably none at all. There is a vast +deal of difference in memories, as well as in everything else; and +therefore you must make allowance for your cousin, and pity her +deficiency. And remember that if you are ever so forward and clever +yourselves, you should always be modest, for, much as you know already, +there is a great deal more for you to learn." + +"Yes, I know there is, till I am seventeen. But I must tell you another +thing of Fanny, so odd and so stupid. Do you know, she says she does not +want to learn either music or drawing?" + +"To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid indeed, and shows a great want +of genius and emulation. But, all things considered, I do not know +whether it is not as well that it should be so: for though you know +(owing to me) your papa and mamma are so good as to bring her up with +you, it is not at all necessary that she should be as accomplished as +you are; on the contrary, it is much more desirable that there should be +a difference." + +Such were the counsels by which Mrs. Norris assisted to form her nieces' +minds; and it is not very wonderful that, with all their promising +talents and early information, they should be entirely deficient in the +less common acquirements of self-knowledge, generosity, and humility. In +everything but disposition, they were admirably taught. Sir Thomas did +not know what was wanting, because, though a truly anxious father, he +was not outwardly affectionate, and the reserve of his manner repressed +all the flow of their spirits before him. + + +PRIVATE THEATRICALS + +From 'Mansfield Park' + +Fanny looked on and listened, not unamused to observe the selfishness +which, more or less disguised, seemed to govern them all, and wondering +how it would end. + +Three of the characters were now cast, besides Mr. Rushworth, who was +always answered for by Maria as willing to do anything; when Julia, +meaning, like her sister, to be Agatha, began to be scrupulous on Miss +Crawford's account. + +"This is not behaving well by the absent," said she. "Here are not women +enough. Amelia and Agatha may do for Maria and me, but here is nothing +for your sister, Mr. Crawford." + +Mr. Crawford desired _that_ might not be thought of; he was very sure +his sister had no wish of acting but as she might be useful, and that +she would not allow herself to be considered in the present case. But +this was immediately opposed by Tom Bertram, who asserted the part of +Amelia to be in every respect the property of Miss Crawford, if she +would accept it. "It falls as naturally as necessarily to her," said he, +"as Agatha does to one or other of my sisters. It can be no sacrifice on +their side, for it is highly comic." + +A short silence followed. Each sister looked anxious; for each felt the +best claim to Agatha, and was hoping to have it pressed on her by the +rest. Henry Crawford, who meanwhile had taken up the play, and with +seeming carelessness was turning over the first act, soon settled +the business. + +"I must entreat Miss _Julia_ Bertram," said he, "not to engage in the +part of Agatha, or it will be the ruin of all my solemnity. You must +not, indeed you must not [turning to her]. I could not stand your +countenance dressed up in woe and paleness. The many laughs we have had +together would infallibly come across me, and Frederick and his knapsack +would be obliged to run away." + +Pleasantly, courteously, it was spoken; but the manner was lost in the +matter to Julia's feelings. She saw a glance at Maria, which confirmed +the injury to herself: it was a scheme, a trick; she was slighted, Maria +was preferred; the smile of triumph which Maria was trying to suppress +showed how well it was understood: and before Julia could command +herself enough to speak, her brother gave his weight against her too, +by saying, "Oh yes! Maria must be Agatha. Maria will be the best Agatha. +Though Julia fancies she prefers tragedy, I would not trust her in it. +There is nothing of tragedy about her. She has not the look of it. Her +features are not tragic features, and she walks too quick, and speaks +too quick, and would not keep her countenance. She had better do the old +countrywoman--the Cottager's wife; you had, indeed, Julia. Cottager's +wife is a very pretty part, I assure you. The old lady relieves the +high-flown benevolence of her husband with a good deal of spirit. You +shall be the Cottager's wife." + +"Cottager's wife!" cried Mr. Yates. "What are you talking of? The most +trivial, paltry, insignificant part; the merest commonplace; not a +tolerable speech in the whole. Your sister do that! It is an insult to +propose it. At Ecclesford the governess was to have done it. We all +agreed that it could not be offered to anybody else. A little more +justice, Mr. Manager, if you please. You do not deserve the office if +you cannot appreciate the talents of your company a little better." + +"Why, as to _that_, my good friends, till I and my company have really +acted, there must be some guesswork; but I mean no disparagement to +Julia. We cannot have two Agathas, and we must have one Cottager's wife; +and I am sure I set her the example of moderation myself in being +satisfied with the old Butler. If the part is trifling she will have +more credit in making something of it: and if she is so desperately bent +against everything humorous, let her take Cottager's speeches instead of +Cottager's wife's, and so change the parts all through; _he_ is solemn +and pathetic enough, I am sure. It could make no difference in the play; +and as for Cottager himself, when he has got his wife's speeches, _I_ +would undertake him with all my heart." + +"With all your partiality for Cottager's wife," said Henry Crawford, "it +will be impossible to make anything of it fit for your sister, and we +must not suffer her good nature to be imposed on. We must not _allow_ +her to accept the part. She must not be left to her own complaisance. +Her talents will be wanted in Amelia. Amelia is a character more +difficult to be well represented than even Agatha. I consider Amelia as +the most difficult character in the whole piece. It requires great +powers, great nicety, to give her playfulness and simplicity without +extravagance. I have seen good actresses fail in the part. Simplicity, +indeed, is beyond the reach of almost every actress by profession. It +requires a delicacy of feeling which they have not. It requires a +gentlewoman--a Julia Bertram. You _will_ undertake it, I hope?" turning +to her with a look of anxious entreaty, which softened her a little; but +while she hesitated what to say, her brother again interposed with Miss +Crawford's better claim. + +"No, no, Julia must not be Amelia. It is not at all the part for her. +She would not like it. She would not do well. She is too tall and +robust. Amelia should be a small, light, girlish, skipping figure. It is +fit for Miss Crawford, and Miss Crawford only. She looks the part, and I +am persuaded will do it admirably." + +Without attending to this, Henry Crawford continued his supplication. +"You must oblige us," said he, "indeed you must. When you have studied +the character I am sure you will feel it suits you. Tragedy may be your +choice, but it will certainly appear that comedy chooses _you_. You will +have to visit me in prison with a basket of provisions; you will not +refuse to visit me in prison? I think I see you coming in with +your basket." + +The influence of his voice was felt. Julia wavered; but was he only +trying to soothe and pacify her, and make her overlook the previous +affront? She distrusted him. The slight had been most determined. He +was, perhaps, but at treacherous play with her. She looked suspiciously +at her sister; Maria's countenance was to decide it; if she were vexed +and alarmed--but Maria looked all serenity and satisfaction, and Julia +well knew that on this ground Maria could not be happy but at her +expense. With hasty indignation, therefore, and a tremulous voice, she +said to him, "You do not seem afraid of not keeping your countenance +when I come in with a basket of provisions--though one might have +supposed--but it is only as Agatha that I was to be so overpowering!" +She stopped, Henry Crawford looked rather foolish, and as if he did not +know what to say. Tom Bertram began again:-- + +"Miss Crawford must be Amelia. She will be an excellent Amelia." + +"Do not be afraid of _my_ wanting the character," cried Julia, with +angry quickness: "I am _not_ to be Agatha, and I am sure I will do +nothing else; and as to Amelia, it is of all parts in the world the +most disgusting to me. I quite detest her. An odious little, pert, +unnatural, impudent girl. I have always protested against comedy, and +this is comedy in its worst form." And so saying, she walked hastily out +of the room, leaving awkward feelings to more than one, but exciting +small compassion in any except Fanny, who had been a quiet auditor of +the whole, and who could not think of her as under the agitations of +_jealousy_ without great pity.... + +The inattention of the two brothers and the aunt to Julia's +discomposure, and their blindness to its true cause, must be imputed to +the fullness of their own minds. They were totally preoccupied. Tom was +engrossed by the concerns of his theatre, and saw nothing that did not +immediately relate to it. Edmund, between his theatrical and his real +part--between Miss Crawford's claims and his own conduct--between love +and consistency, was equally unobservant: and Mrs. Norris was too busy +in contriving and directing the general little matters of the company, +superintending their various dresses with economical expedients, for +which nobody thanked her, and saving, with delighted integrity, +half-a-crown here and there to the absent Sir Thomas, to have leisure +for watching the behavior, or guarding the happiness, of his daughters. + + +FRUITLESS REGRETS AND APPLES OF SODOM + +From 'Mansfield Park' + +These were the circumstances and the hopes which gradually brought their +alleviation to Sir Thomas, deadening his sense of what was lost, and in +part reconciling him to himself; though the anguish arising from the +conviction of his own errors in the education of his daughters was never +to be entirely done away. + +Too late he became aware how unfavorable to the character of any young +people must be the totally opposite treatment which Maria and Julia had +been always experiencing at home, where the excessive indulgence and +flattery of their aunt had been continually contrasted with his own +severity. He saw how ill he had judged, in expecting to counteract what +was wrong in Mrs. Norris by its reverse in himself, clearly saw that he +had but increased the evil, by teaching them to repress their spirits +in his presence so as to make their real disposition unknown to him, +and sending them for all their indulgences to a person who had been able +to attach them only by the blindness of her affection and the excess of +her praise. + +Here had been grievous mismanagement; but, bad as it was, he gradually +grew to feel that it had not been the most direful mistake in his plan +of education. Something must have been wanting _within_, or time would +have worn away much of its ill effect. He feared that principle, active +principle, had been wanting; that they had never been properly taught to +govern their inclinations and tempers, by that sense of duty which can +alone suffice. They had been instructed theoretically in their religion, +but never required to bring it into daily practice. To be distinguished +for elegance and accomplishments--the authorized object of their +youth--could have had no useful influence that way, no moral effect on +the mind. He had meant them to be good, but his cares had been directed +to the understanding and manners, not the disposition; and of the +necessity of self-denial and humility, he feared they had never heard +from any lips that could profit them. + +Bitterly did he deplore a deficiency which now he could scarcely +comprehend to have been possible. Wretchedly did he feel, that with all +the cost and care of an anxious and expensive education, he had brought +up his daughters without their understanding their first duties, or his +being acquainted with their character and temper. + +The high spirit and strong passions of Mrs. Rushworth especially were +made known to him only in their sad result. She was not to be prevailed +on to leave Mr. Crawford. She hoped to marry him, and they continued +together till she was obliged to be convinced that such hope was vain, +and till the disappointment and wretchedness arising from the conviction +rendered her temper so bad, and her feelings for him so like hatred, as +to make them for a while each other's punishment, and then induce a +voluntary separation. + +She had lived with him to be reproached as the ruin of all his happiness +in Fanny, and carried away no better consolation in leaving him, than +that she _had_ divided them. What can exceed the misery of such a mind +in such a situation! + +Mr. Rushworth had no difficulty in procuring a divorce; and so ended a +marriage contracted under such circumstances as to make any better end +the effect of good luck, not to be reckoned on. She had despised him, +and loved another--and he had been very much aware that it was so. The +indignities of stupidity, and the disappointments of selfish passion, +can excite little pity. His punishment followed his conduct, as did a +deeper punishment the deeper guilt of his wife. _He_ was released from +the engagement, to be mortified and unhappy till some other pretty girl +could attract him into matrimony again, and he might set forward on a +second, and it is to be hoped more prosperous trial of the state--if +duped, to be duped at least with good humor and good luck; while _she_ +must withdraw with infinitely stronger feelings, to a retirement and +reproach which could allow no second spring of hope or character. + +Where she could be placed, became a subject of most melancholy and +momentous consultation. Mrs. Norris, whose attachment seemed to augment +with the demerits of her niece, would have had her received at home and +countenanced by them all. Sir Thomas would not hear of it; and Mrs. +Norris's anger against Fanny was so much the greater, from considering +_her_ residence there as the motive. She persisted in placing his +scruples to _her_ account, though Sir Thomas very solemnly assured her +that had there been no young woman in question, had there been no young +person of either sex belonging to him, to be endangered by the society +or hurt by the character of Mrs. Rushworth, he would never have offered +so great an insult to the neighborhood as to expect it to notice her. As +a daughter--he hoped a penitent one--she should be protected by him, and +secured in every comfort and supported by every encouragement to do +right which their relative situations admitted; but farther than _that_ +he would not go. Maria had destroyed her own character; and he would +not, by a vain attempt to restore what never could be restored, be +affording his sanction to vice, or, in seeking to lessen its disgrace, +be anywise accessory to introducing such misery in another man's family +as he had known himself.... + +Henry Crawford, ruined by early independence and bad domestic example, +indulged in the freaks of a cold-blooded vanity a little too long. Once +it had, by an opening undesigned and unmerited, led him into the way of +happiness. Could he have been satisfied with the conquest of one amiable +woman's affections, could he have found sufficient exultation in +overcoming the reluctance, in working himself into the esteem and +tenderness of Fanny Price, there would have been every probability of +success and felicity for him. His affection had already done something. +Her influence over him had already given him some influence over her. +Would he have deserved more, there can be no doubt that more would have +been obtained; especially when that marriage had taken place, which +would have given him the assistance of her conscience in subduing her +first inclination, and brought them very often together. Would he have +persevered, and uprightly, Fanny must have been his reward--and a reward +very voluntarily bestowed--within a reasonable period from Edmund's +marrying Mary. Had he done as he intended, and as he knew he ought, by +going down to Everingham after his return from Portsmouth, he might have +been deciding his own happy destiny. But he was pressed to stay for Mrs. +Fraser's party: his staying was made of flattering consequence, and he +was to meet Mrs. Rushworth there. Curiosity and vanity were both +engaged, and the temptation of immediate pleasure was too strong for a +mind unused to make any sacrifice to right; he resolved to defer his +Norfolk journey, resolved that writing should answer the purpose of it, +or that its purpose was unimportant--and staid. He saw Mrs. Rushworth, +was received by her with a coldness which ought to have been repulsive, +and have established apparent indifference between them for ever: but he +was mortified, he could not bear to be thrown off by the woman whose +smiles had been so wholly at his command; he must exert himself to +subdue so proud a display of resentment: it was anger on Fanny's +account; he must get the better of it, and make Mrs. Rushworth Maria +Bertram again in her treatment of himself. + +In this spirit he began the attack; and by animated perseverance had +soon re-established the sort of familiar intercourse--of gallantry--of +flirtation--which bounded his views: but in triumphing over the +discretion, which, though beginning in anger, might have saved them +both, he had put himself in the power of feelings on her side more +strong than he had supposed. She loved him; there was no withdrawing +attentions avowedly dear to her. He was entangled by his own vanity, +with as little excuse of love as possible, and without the smallest +inconstancy of mind towards her cousin. To keep Fanny and the Bertrams +from a knowledge of what was passing became his first object. Secrecy +could not have been more desirable for Mrs. Rushworth's credit than he +felt it for his own. When he returned from Richmond, he would have been +glad to see Mrs. Rushworth no more. All that followed was the result of +her imprudence; and he went off with her at last because he could not +help it, regretting Fanny even at the moment, but regretting her +infinitely more when all the bustle of the intrigue was over, and a very +few months had taught him, by the force of contrast, to place a yet +higher value on the sweetness of her temper, the purity of her mind, and +the excellence of her principles. + +That punishment, the public punishment of disgrace, should in a just +measure attend _his_ share of the offense, is, we know, not one of the +barriers which society gives to virtue. In this world, the penalty is +less equal than could be wished; but without presuming to look forward +to a juster appointment hereafter, we may fairly consider a man of +sense, like Henry Crawford, to be providing for himself no small portion +of vexation and regret--vexation that must rise sometimes to +self-reproach, and regret to wretchedness--in having so requited +hospitality, so injured family peace, so forfeited his best, most +estimable, and endeared acquaintance, and so lost the woman whom he had +rationally as well as passionately loved. + + + + +AVERROËS + +(1126-1198) + + +Averroës (Abu 'l Walid Muhammad, ibn Achmad, ibn Muhammad, IBN RUSHD; or +more in English, Abu 'l Walid Muhammed, the son of Achmet, the son of +Muhammed, the son of Rushd) was born in 1126 at Cordova, Spain. His +father and grandfather, the latter a celebrated jurist and canonist, had +been judges in that city. He first studied theology and canon law, and +later medicine and philosophy; thus, like Faust, covering the whole +field of mediæal science. His life was cast in the most brilliant period +of Western Muslim culture, in the splendor of that rationalism which +preceded the great darkness of religious fanaticism. As a young man, he +was introduced by Ibn Tufail (Abubacer), author of the famous 'Hayy +al-Yukdhan,' a philosophical 'Robinson Crusoe,' to the enlightened +Khalif Abu Ya'kub Yusuf (1163-84), as a fit expounder of the then +popular philosophy of Aristotle. This position he filled with so much +success as to become a favorite with the Prince, and finally his private +physician. He likewise filled the important office of judge, first at +Seville, later at Cordova. + +He enjoyed even greater consideration under the next Khalif, Ya'kub +al-Mansur, until the year 1195, when the jealousy of his rivals and the +fanaticism of the Berbers led to his being accused of championing +philosophy to the detriment of religion. Though Averroës always +professed great respect for religion, and especially for Islam, as a +valuable popular substitute for science and philosophy, the charge could +hardly be rebutted (as will be shown later), and the Amir of the +Faithful could scarcely afford openly to favor a heretic. Averroës was +accordingly deprived of his honors, and banished to Lacena, a Jewish +settlement near Cordova--a fact which gives coloring to the belief that +he was of Jewish descent. To satisfy his fanatical subjects for the +moment, the Khalif published severe edicts not only against Averroës, +but against all learned men and all learning as hostile to religion. For +a time the poor philosopher could not appear in public without being +mobbed; but after two years, a less fanatical party having come into +power, the Prince revoked his edicts, and Averroës was restored to +favor. This event he did not long survive. He died on 10th December +1198, in Marocco. Here too he was buried; but his body was afterward +transported to Cordova, and laid in the tomb of his fathers. He left +several sons, more than one of whom came to occupy important positions. + +Averroës was the last great Muslim thinker, summing up and carrying to +its conclusions the thought of four hundred years. The philosophy of +Islam, which flourished first in the East, in Basra and Bagdad +(800-1100), and then in the West, Cordova, Toledo, etc. (1100-1200), was +a mixture of Aristotelianism and Neo-Platonism, borrowed, under the +earlier Persianizing Khalifs, from the Christian (mainly Nestorian) +monks of Syria and Mesopotamia, being consequently a naturalistic +system. In it God was acknowledged only as the supreme abstraction; +while eternal matter, law, and impersonal intelligence played the +principal part. It was necessarily irreconcilable with Muslim orthodoxy, +in which a crudely conceived, intensely personal God is all in all. +While Persian influence was potent, philosophy flourished, produced some +really great scholars and thinkers, made considerable headway against +Muslim fatalism and predestination, and seemed in a fair way to bring +about a free and rational civilization, eminent in science and art. But +no sooner did the fanatical or scholastic element get the upper hand +than philosophy vanished, and with it all hope of a great Muslim +civilization in the East. This change was marked by Al-Ghazzali, and his +book 'The Destruction of the Philosophers.' He died in A.D. 1111, and +then the works of Al-Farabi, Ibn-Sina, and the "Brothers of Purity," +wandered out to the far West, to seek for appreciation among the Muslim, +Jews, and Christians of Spain. And for a brief time they found it there, +and in the twelfth century found also eloquent expounders at the +mosque-schools of Cordova, Toledo, Seville, and Saragossa. Of these the +most famous were Ibn Baja, Ibn Tufail, and Ibn Rushd (Averroës). + +During its progress, Muslim philosophy had gradually been eliminating +the Neo-Platonic, mystic element, and returning to pure Aristotelianism. +In Averroës, who professed to be merely a commentator on Aristotle, this +tendency reached its climax; and though he still regarded the +pseudo-Aristotelian works as genuine, and did not entirely escape their +influence, he is by far the least mystic of Muslim thinkers. The two +fundamental doctrines upon which he always insisted, and which long made +his name famous, not to say notorious, the eternity of matter and of the +world (involving a denial of the doctrine of creation), and the oneness +of the active intellect in all men (involving the mortality of the +individual soul and the impossibility of resurrection and judgment), are +both of Aristotelian origin. It was no wonder that he came into conflict +with the orthodox Muslim; for in the warfare between Arab prophetism, +with its shallow apologetic scholasticism, and Greek philosophy, with +its earnest endeavor to find truth, and its belief in reason as the sole +revealer thereof, he unhesitatingly took the side of the latter. He held +that man is made to discover truth, and that the serious study of God +and his works is the noblest form of worship. + +However little one may agree with his chief tenets, there can be no +doubt that he was the most enlightened man of the entire Middle Age, in +Europe at least; and if his spirit and work had been continued, Western +Islâm might have become a great permanent civilizing power. But here +again, after a brief period of extraordinary philosophic brilliancy, +fanaticism got the upper hand. With the death of Averroës the last hope +of a beneficent Muslim civilization came to an end. Since then, Islam +has been a synonym for blind fanaticism and cruel bigotry. In many parts +of the Muslim world, "philosopher" is a term of reproach, like +"miscreant." + +But though Islam rejected its philosopher, Averroës's work was by no +means without its effect. It was through his commentaries on Aristotle +that the thought of that greatest of ancient thinkers became known to +the western world, both Jewish and Christian. Among the Jews, his +writings soon acquired almost canonical authority. His system found +expression in the works of the best known of Hebrew thinkers, +Maimonides (1135-1204), "the second Moses" works which, despite all +orthodox opposition, dominated Jewish thought for nearly three hundred +years, and made the Jews during that time the chief promoters of +rationalism. When Muslim persecution forced a large number of Jews to +leave Spain and settle in Southern France, the works of Averroës and +Maimonides were translated into Hebrew, which thenceforth became the +vehicle of Jewish thought; and thus Muslim Aristotelianism came into +direct contact with Christianity. + +Among the Christians, the works of Averroës, translated by Michael +Scott, "wizard of dreaded fame," Hermann the German, and others, acted +at once like a mighty solvent. Heresy followed in their track, and shook +the Church to her very foundations. Recognizing that her existence was +at stake, she put forth all her power to crush the intruder. The Order +of Preachers, initiated by St. Dominic of Calahorra (1170-1221), was +founded; the Inquisition was legalized (about 1220). The writings of +Aristotle and his Arab commentators were condemned to the flames (1209, +1215, 1231). Later, when all this proved unavailing, the best intellects +in Christendom, such as Albertus Magnus (1193-1280), and Thomas Aquinas +(1227-74), undertook to repel the new doctrine with its own weapons; +that is, by submitting the thought of Aristotle and his Arab +commentators to rational discussion. Thus was introduced the second or +palmy period of Christian Scholasticism, whose chief industry, we may +fairly say, was directed to the refutation of the two leading doctrines +of Averroës. Aiming at this, Thomas Aquinas threw the whole dogmatic +system of the Church into the forms of Aristotle, and thus produced that +colossal system of theology which still prevails in the Roman Catholic +world; witness the Encyclical _Æterni Patris_ of Leo XIII., issued +in 1879. + +By the great thinkers of the thirteenth century, Averroës, though +regarded as heretical and dangerous in religion, was looked up to as an +able thinker, and the commentator _par excellence_; so much so that St. +Thomas borrowed from him the very form of his own Commentaries, and +Dante assigned him a distinguished place, beside Plato and Aristotle, in +the limbo of ancient sages ('Inferno,' iv. 143). But in the following +century--mainly, no doubt, because he was chosen as the patron of +certain strongly heretical movements, such as those instigated by the +arch-rationalist Frederic II--he came to be regarded as the precursor of +Antichrist, if not that personage himself: being credited with the awful +blasphemy of having spoken of the founders of the three current +religions--Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad--as "the three impostors." +Whatever truth there may be in this, so much is certain, that +infidelity, in the sense of an utter disbelief in Christianity as a +revealed religion, or in any sense specially true, dates from the +thirteenth century, and is due in large measure to the influence of +Averroës. Yet he was a great favorite with the Franciscans, and for a +time exercised a profound influence on the universities of Paris and +Oxford, finding a strong admirer even in Roger Bacon. His thought was +also a powerful element in the mysticism of Meister Eckhart and his +followers; a mysticism which incurred the censure of the Church. + +Thus both the leading forms of heresy which characterized the thirteenth +century--naturalism with its tendency to magic, astrology, alchemy, +etc., etc., and mysticism with its dreams of beatific visions, its +self-torture and its lawlessness (see Görres, 'Die Christliche +Mystik')--were due largely to Averroës. In spite of this, his +commentaries on Aristotle maintained their credit, their influence being +greatest in the fourteenth century, when his doctrines were openly +professed. After the invention of printing, they appeared in numberless +editions,--several times in connection with the text of Aristotle. As +the age of the Renaissance and of Protestantism approached, they +gradually lost their prestige. The chief humanists, like Petrarch, as +well as the chief reformers, were bitterly hostile to them. +Nevertheless, they contributed important elements to both movements. + +Averroism survived longest in Northern Italy, especially in the +University of Padua, where it was professed until the seventeenth +century, and where, as a doctrine hostile to supernaturalism, it paved +the way for the study of nature and the rise of modern science. Thus +Averroës may fairly be said to have had a share in every movement toward +freedom, wise and unwise, for the last seven hundred years. In truth, +free thought in Europe owes more to him than to any other man except +Abélard. His last declared follower was the impetuous Lucilio Vanini, +who was burned for atheism at Toulouse in 1619. + +The best work on Averroës is Renan's 'Averroës et l'Averroïsme' (fourth +edition, Paris, 1893). This contains, on pages 58-79, a complete list +both of his commentaries and his original writings. + + + + +THE AVESTA + +(From about B.C. Sixth Century) + +BY A.V. WILLIAMS JACKSON + + +Avesta, or Zend-Avesta, an interesting monument of antiquity, is the +Bible of Zoroaster, the sacred book of ancient Iran, and holy scripture +of the modern Parsis. The exact meaning of the name "Avesta" is not +certain; it may perhaps signify "law," "text," or, more doubtfully, +"wisdom," "revelation." The modern familiar designation of the book as +Zend-Avesta is not strictly accurate; if used at all, it should rather +be Avesta-Zend, like "Bible and Commentary," as _zand_ signifies +"explanation," "commentary," and _Avesta u Zand_ is employed in some +Persian allusions to the Zoroastrian scriptures as a designation +denoting the text of the Avesta accompanied by the Pahlavi version or +interpretation. + +The story of the recovery of the Avesta, or rather the discovery of the +Avesta, by the enthusiastic young French scholar Anquetil du Perron, who +was the first to open to the western world the ancient records of +Zoroastrianism, reads almost like a romance. Du Perron's own account of +his departure for India in 1754, of his experiences with the _dasturs_ +(or priests) during a seven years' residence among them, of his various +difficulties and annoyances, setbacks and successes, is entertainingly +presented in the introductory volume of his work 'Zend-Avesta, Ouvrage +de Zoroastre' (3 Vols., Paris, 1771). This was the first translation of +the ancient Persian books published in a European language. Its +appearance formed one of those epochs which are marked by an addition to +the literary, religious, or philosophical wealth of our time; a new +contribution was added to the riches of the West from the treasures of +the East. The field thus thrown open, although worked imperfectly at +first, has yielded abundant harvests to the hands of later gleaners. + +_THE ZEND-AVESTA._ + +Facsimile of a Page of the AVESTA; from the oldest preserved manuscript +containing the YAÇNA. A. D. 1325. In the Royal Library at Copenhagen. + +The Zend-Avesta--more properly the Avesta-Zend, i.e., "Text and +Commentary" is the "Bible" of the Persians. The four parts into which it +is divided are called Yaçna, Vispered, Vendidad, and Khordah-Avesta. + +[Illustration] + +With the growth of our knowledge of the language of the sacred texts, we +have now a clear idea also of the history of Zoroastrian literature and +of the changes and chances through which with varying fortunes the +scriptures have passed. The original Zoroastrian Avesta, according to +tradition, was in itself a literature of vast dimensions. Pliny, in his +'Natural History,' speaks of two million verses of Zoroaster; to which +may be added the Persian assertion that the original copy of the +scriptures was written upon twelve thousand parchments, with gold +illuminated letters, and was deposited in the library at Persepolis. But +what was the fate of this archetype? Parsi tradition has an answer. +Alexander the Great--"the accursed Iskander," as he is called--is +responsible for its destruction. At the request of the beautiful Thais, +as the story goes, he allowed the palace of Persepolis to be burned, and +the precious treasure perished in the flames. Whatever view we may take +of the different sides of this story, one thing cannot be denied: the +invasion of Alexander and the subjugation of Iran was indirectly or +directly the cause of a certain religious decadence which followed upon +the disruption of the Persian Empire, and was answerable for the fact +that a great part of the scriptures was forgotten or fell into disuse. +Persian tradition lays at the doors of the Greeks the loss of another +copy of the original ancient texts, but does not explain in what manner +this happened; nor has it any account to give of copies of the prophet's +works which Semitic writers say were translated into nearly a dozen +different languages. One of these versions was perhaps Greek, for it is +generally acknowledged that in the fourth century B.C. the philosopher +Theopompus spent much time in giving in his own tongue the contents of +the sacred Magian books. + +Tradition is unanimous on one point at least: it is that the original +Avesta comprised twenty-one _Nasks_, or books, a statement which there +is no good reason to doubt. The same tradition which was acquainted with +the general character of these Nasks professes also to tell exactly how +many of them survived the inroad of Alexander; for although the sacred +text itself was destroyed, its contents were lost only in part, the +priests preserving large portions of the precious scriptures. These met +with many vicissitudes in the five centuries that intervened between the +conquest of Alexander and the great restoration of Zoroastrianism in the +third century of our era, under the Sassanian dynasty. At this period +all obtainable Zoroastrian scriptures were collected, the compilation +was codified, and a detailed notice made of the contents of each of the +original Nasks compared with the portions then surviving. The original +Avesta was, it would appear, a sort of encyclopaedic work; not of +religion alone, but of useful knowledge relating to law, to the arts, +science, the professions, and to every-day life. If we may judge from +the existing table of contents of these Nasks, the zealous Sassanians, +even in the time of the collecting (A. D. 226-380), were able to restore +but a fragment of the archetype, perhaps a fourth part of the original +Avesta. Nor was this remnant destined to escape misfortune. The +Mohammedan invasion, in the seventh century of our era added a final and +crushing blow. Much of the religion that might otherwise have been +handed down to us, despite "the accursed Iskander's" conquest, now +perished through the sword and the Koran. Its loss, we must remember, is +in part compensated by the Pahlavi religious literature of +Sassanian days. + +Fragmentary and disjointed as are the remnants of the Avesta, we are +fortunate in possessing even this moiety of the Bible of Zoroaster, +whose compass is about one tenth that of our own sacred book. A grouping +of the existing texts is here presented:--1. Yasna (including Gathas). +2. Visperad. 3. Yashts. 4. Minor Texts. 5. Vendidad. 6. Fragments. + +Even these texts no single manuscript in our time contains complete. The +present collection is made by combining various Avestan codexes. In +spite of the great antiquity of the literature, all the existing +manuscripts are comparatively young. None is older than the thirteenth +century of our own era, while the direct history of only one or two can +be followed back to about the tenth century. This mere external +circumstance has of course no bearing on the actual early age of the +Zoroastrian scriptures. It must be kept in mind that Zoroaster lived at +least six centuries before the birth of Christ. + +Among the six divisions of our present Avesta, the Yasna, Visperad, and +Vendidad are closely connected. They are employed in the daily ritual, +and they are also accompanied by a version or interpretation in the +Pahlavi language, which serves at the same time as a sort of commentary. +The three divisions are often found combined into a sort of prayer-book, +called Vendidad-Sadah (Vendidad Pure); i.e., Avesta text without the +Pahlavi rendering. The chapters in this case are arranged with special +reference to liturgical usage. + +Some idea of the character of the Avesta as it now exists may be derived +from the following sketch of its contents and from the illustrative +selections presented:-- + +1. _Yasna_ (sacrifice, worship), the chief liturgical work of the sacred +canon. It consists mainly of ascriptions of praise and of prayer, and +corresponds nearly to our idea of a prayer-book. The Yasna comprises +seventy-two chapters; these fall into three nearly equal parts. The +middle, or oldest part, is the section of Gathas below described. + +The meaning of the word _yasna_ as above gives at once some conception +of the nature of the texts. The Yasna chapters were recited at the +sacrifice: a sacrifice that consisted not in blood-offerings, but in an +offering of praise and thanksgiving, accompanied by ritual observances. +The white-robed priest, girt with the sacred cord and wearing a veil, +the _paitidana_, before his lips in the presence of the holy fire, +begins the service by an invocation of Ahura Mazda (Ormazd) and the +heavenly hierarchy; he then consecrates the _zaothra_ water, the +_myazda_ or oblation, and the _baresma_ or bundle of sacred twigs. He +and his assistant now prepare the _haoma_ (the _soma_ of the Hindus), or +juice of a sacred plant, the drinking of which formed part of the +religious rite. At the ninth chapter of the book, the rhythmical +chanting of the praises of Haoma is begun. This deified being, a +personification of the consecrated drink, is supposed to have appeared +before the prophet himself, and to have described to him the blessings +which the _haoma_ bestows upon its pious worshiper. The lines are +metrical, as in fact they commonly are in the older parts of the Avesta, +and the rhythm somewhat recalls the Kalevala verse of Longfellow's +'Hiawatha.' A specimen is here presented in translation:-- + + At the time of morning-worship + Haoma came to Zoroaster, + Who was serving at the Fire + And the holy Psalms intoning. + + "What man art thou (asked the Prophet), + Who of all the world material + Art the fairest I have e'er seen + In my life, bright and immortal?" + +The image of the sacred plant responds, and bids the priest prepare the +holy extract. + + Haoma then to me gave answer, + Haoma righteous, death-destroying:-- + "Zoroaster, I am Haoma, + Righteous Haoma, death-destroying. + Do thou gather me, Spitama, + And prepare me as a potion; + Praise me, aye as shall hereafter + In their praise the Saviors praise me." + +Zoroaster again inquires, wishing to know of the pious men of old who +worshiped Haoma and obtained blessings for their religious zeal. Among +these, as is learned from Haoma, one was King Yima, whose reign was the +time of the Golden Age; those were the happy days when a father looked +as young as his children. + + In the reign of princely Yima, + Heat there was not, cold there was not, + Neither age nor death existed, + Nor disease the work of Demons; + + Son and father walked together + Fifteen years old, each in figure, + Long as Vivanghvat's son Yima, + The good Shepherd, ruled as sovereign. + +For two chapters more, Haoma is extolled. Then follows the Avestan Creed +(Yasna 12), a prose chapter that was repeated by those who joined in +the early Zoroastrian faith, forsook the old marauding and nomadic +habits that still characterize the modern Kurds, and adopted an +agricultural habit of life, devoting themselves peaceably to +cattle-raising, irrigation, and cultivation of the fields. The greater +part of the Yasna book is of a liturgic or ritualistic nature, and need +not here be further described. Special mention, however, must be made of +the middle section of the Yasna, which is constituted by "the Five +Gathas" (hymns, psalms), a division containing the seventeen sacred +psalms, sayings, sermons, or teachings of Zoroaster himself. These +Gathas form the oldest part of the entire canon of the Avesta. In them +we see before our eyes the prophet of the new faith speaking with the +fervor of the Psalmist of the Bible. In them we feel the thrill of ardor +that characterizes a new and struggling religious band; we are warmed by +the burning zeal of the preacher of a church militant. Now, however, +comes a cry of despondency, a moment of faint-heartedness at the present +triumph of evil, at the success of the wicked and the misery of the +righteous; but this gives way to a clarion burst of hopefulness, the +trumpet note of a prophet filled with the promise of ultimate victory, +the triumph of good over evil. The end of the world cannot be far away; +the final overthrow of Ahriman (Anra Mainyu) by Ormazd (Ahura Mazda) is +assured; the establishment of a new order of things is certain; at the +founding of this "kingdom" the resurrection of the dead will take place +and the life eternal will be entered upon. + +The third Gatha, Yasna 30, may be chosen by way of illustration. This is +a sort of Mazdian Sermon on the Mount. Zoroaster preaches the doctrine +of dualism, the warfare of good and evil in the world, and exhorts the +faithful to choose aright and to combat Satan. The archangels Good +Thought (Vohu Manah), Righteousness (Asha), Kingdom (Khshathra), appear +as the helpers of Man (Maretan); for whose soul, as in the old English +morality play, the Demons (Dævas) are contending. Allusions to the +resurrection and final judgment, and to the new dispensation, are easily +recognized in the spirited words of the prophet. A prose rendering of +this metrical psalm is here attempted; the verse order, however, is +preserved, though without rhythm. + + +A PSALM OF ZOROASTER: YASNA 30 + + Now shall I speak of things which ye who seek them shall bear + in mind, Namely, the praises of Ahura Mazda and the worship + of Good Thought, And the joy of [_lit_. through] + Righteousness which is manifested through Light. + + 2 + + Hearken with your ears to what is best; with clear + understanding perceive it. + + Awakening to our advising every man, personally, of the + distinction Between the two creeds, before the Great Event + [i.e., the Resurrection]. + + 3 + + Now, Two Spirits primeval there were twins which became known + through their activity, + + To wit, the Good and the Evil, in thought, word, and deed. + The wise have rightly distinguished between these two; not so + the unwise. + + 4 + + And, now, when these Two Spirits first came together, they + established Life and destruction, and ordained how the world + hereafter shall be, To wit, the Worst World [Hell] for the + wicked, but the Best Thought [Heaven] for the righteous. + + 5 + + The Wicked One [Ahriman] of these Two Spirits chose to do + evil, The Holiest Spirit [Ormazd]--who wears the solid + heavens as a robe--chose Righteousness [Asha], And [so also + those] who zealously gratified Ormazd by virtuous deeds. + + 6 + + Not rightly did the Demons distinguish these Two Spirits; for + Delusion came Upon them, as they were deliberating, so that + they chose the Worst Thought [Hell]. And away they rushed to + Wrath [the Fiend] in order to corrupt the life of Man + [Maretan]. + + 7 + + And to him [i.e., to Gaya Maretan] came Khshathra [Kingdom], + Vohu Manah [Good Thought] and Asha [Righteousness], And + Armaiti [Archangel of Earth] gave [to him] bodily endurance + unceasingly; Of these, Thy [creatures], when Thou earnest + with Thy creations, he [i.e., Gaya Maretan] was the first. + + 8 + + But when the retribution of the sinful shall come to pass, + Then shall Good Thought distribute Thy Kingdom, Shall fulfill + it for those who shall deliver Satan [Druj] into the hand of + Righteousness [Asha]. + + 9 + + And so may we be such as make the world renewed, And may + Ahura Mazda and Righteousness lend their aid, That our + thoughts may there be [set] where Faith is abiding. + + 10 + + For at the [final] Dispensation, the blow of annihilation to + Satan shall come to pass; But those who participate in a good + report [in the Life Record] shall meet together In the happy + home of Good Thought, and of Mazda, and of Righteousness. + + 11 + + If, O ye men, ye mark these doctrines which Mazda gave, And + [mark] the weal and the woe--namely, the long torment of the + wicked, And the welfare of the righteous--then in accordance + with these [doctrines] there will be happiness hereafter. + +The _Visperad_ (all the masters) is a short collection of prosaic +invocations and laudations of sacred things. Its twenty-four sections +form a supplement to the Yasna. Whatever interest this division of the +Avesta possesses lies entirely on the side of the ritual, and not in the +field of literature. In this respect it differs widely from the book of +the Yashts, which is next to be mentioned. + +The _Yashts_ (praises of worship) form a poetical book of twenty-one +hymns in which the angels of the religion, "the worshipful ones" +(_Yazatas, Izads_), are glorified, and the heroes of former days. Much +of the material of the Yashts is evidently drawn from pre-Zoroastrian +sagas which have been remodeled and adopted, worked over and modified, +and incorporated into the canon of the new-founded religion. There is a +mythological and legendary atmosphere about the Yashts, and Firdausi's +'Shah Nameh' serves to throw light on many of the events portrayed in +them, or allusions that would otherwise be obscure. All the longer +Yashts are in verse, and some of them have poetic merit. Chiefly to be +mentioned among the longer ones are: first, the one in praise of Ardvi +Sura Anahita, or the stream celestial (Yt. 5); second, the Yasht which +exalts the star Tishtrya and his victory over the demon of drought (Yt. +8); then the one devoted to the Fravashis or glorified souls of the +righteous (Yt. 13) as well as the Yasht in honor of Verethraghna, the +incarnation of Victory (Yt. 14). Selections from the others, Yt. 10 and +Yt. 19, which are among the noblest, are here given. + +The first of the two chosen (Yt. 10) is dedicated to the great divinity +Mithra, the genius who presides over light, truth, and the sun (Yt. +10, 13). + + Foremost he, the celestial angel, + Mounts above Mount Hara (Alborz) + In advance of the sun immortal + Which is drawn by fleeting horses; + He it is, in gold adornment + First ascends the beauteous summits + Thence beneficent he glances + Over all the abode of Aryans. + +As the god of light and of truth and as one of the judges of the dead, +he rides out in lordly array to the battle and takes an active part in +the conflict, wreaking vengeance upon those who at any time in their +life have spoken falsely, belied their oath, or broken their pledge. His +war-chariot and panoply are described in mingled lines of verse and +prose, which may thus be rendered (Yt. 10, 128-132):-- + + By the side of Mithra's chariot, + Mithra, lord of the wide pastures, + Stand a thousand bows well-fashioned + (The bow has a string of cowgut). + +By his chariot also are standing a thousand vulture-feathered, +gold-notched, lead-poised, well-fashioned arrows (the barb is of iron); +likewise a thousand spears well-fashioned and sharp-piercing, and a +thousand steel battle-axes, two-edged and well-fashioned; also a +thousand bronze clubs well-fashioned. + + And by Mithra's chariot also + Stands a mace, fair and well-striking, + With a hundred knobs and edges, + Dashing forward, felling heroes; + Out of golden bronze 'tis molded. + +The second illustrative extract will be taken from Yasht 19, which +magnifies in glowing strains the praises of the Kingly Glory. This +"kingly glory" (_kavaem hvareno_) is a sort of halo, radiance, or mark +of divine right, which was believed to be possessed by the kings and +heroes of Iran in the long line of its early history. One hero who bore +the glory was the mighty warrior Thraetaona (Feridun), the vanquisher of +the serpent-monster Azhi Dahaka (Zohak), who was depopulating the world +by his fearful daily banquet of the brains of two children. The victory +was a glorious triumph for Thraetaona (Yt. 19, 37):-- + + He who slew Azhi Dahaka, + Three-jawed monster, triple-headed, + With six eyes and myriad senses, + Fiend demoniac, full of power, + Evil to the world, and wicked. + This fiend full of power, the Devil + Anra Mainyu had created, + Fatal to the world material, + Deadly to the world of Righteousness. + +Of equal puissance was another noble champion, the valiant Keresaspa, +who dispatched a raging demon who, though not yet grown to man's estate, +was threatening the world. The monster's thrasonical boasting is thus +given (Yt. 19, 43):-- + + I am yet only a stripling, + But if ever I come to manhood + I shall make the earth my chariot + And shall make a wheel of heaven. + I shall drive the Holy Spirit + Down from out the shining heaven, + I shall rout the Evil Spirit + Up from out the dark abysm; + They as steeds shall draw my chariot, + God and Devil yoked together. + +Passing over a collection of shorter petitions, praises, and blessings +which may conveniently be grouped together as 'Minor Prayers,' for they +answer somewhat to our idea of a daily manual of morning devotion, we +may turn to the Vendidad (law against the demons), the Iranian +Pentateuch. Tradition asserts that in the Vendidad we have preserved a +specimen of one of the original Nasks. This may be true, but even the +superficial student will see that it is in any case a fragmentary +remnant. Interesting as the Vendidad is to the student of early rites, +observances, manners, and customs, it is nevertheless a barren field for +the student of literature, who will find in it little more than +wearisome prescriptions like certain chapters of Leviticus, Numbers, and +Deuteronomy. It need only be added that at the close of the colloquy +between Zoroaster and Ormazd given in Vend. 6, he will find the origin +of the modern Parsi "Towers of Silence." + +Among the Avestan Fragments, attention might finally be called to one +which we must be glad has not been lost. It is an old metrical bit +(Frag. 4, 1-3) in praise of the Airyama Ishya Prayer (Yt. 54, 1). This +is the prayer that shall be intoned by the Savior and his companions at +the end of the world, when the resurrection will take place; and it will +serve as a sort of last trump, at the sound of which the dead rise from +their graves and evil is banished from the world. Ormazd himself says to +Zoroaster (Frag. 4, 1-3):-- + + The Airyama Ishya prayer, I tell thee, + Upright, holy Zoroaster, + Is the greatest of all prayers. + Verily among all prayers + It is this one which I gifted + With revivifying powers. + + This prayer shall the Saoshyants, Saviors, + Chant, and at the chanting of it + I shall rule over my creatures, + I who am Ahura Mazda. + Not shall Ahriman have power, + Anra Mainyu, o'er my creatures, + He (the fiend) of foul religion. + In the earth shall Ahriman hide, + In the earth the demons hide. + Up the dead again shall rise, + And within their lifeless bodies + Incorporate life shall be restored. + +Inadequate as brief extracts must be to represent the sacred books of a +people, the citations here given will serve to show that the Avesta +which is still recited in solemn tones by the white-robed priests of +Bombay, the modern representatives of Zoroaster, the Prophet of ancient +days, is a survival not without value to those who appreciate whatever +has been preserved for us of the world's earlier literature. For readers +who are interested in the subject there are several translations of the +Avesta. The best (except for the Gathas, where the translation is weak) +is the French version by Darmesteter, 'Le Zend Avesta,' published in the +'Annales du Musée Guimet' (Paris, 1892-93). An English rendering by +Darmesteter and Mills is contained in the 'Sacred Books of the East,' +Vols. iv., xxiii., xxxi. + +[Illustration: Signature: A.V. Williams Jackson] + + +A PRAYER FOR KNOWLEDGE + +This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: when praise is to be offered, +how shall I complete the praise of the One like You, O Mazda? Let the +One like Thee declare it earnestly to the friend who is such as I, thus +through Thy Righteousness within us to offer friendly help to us, so +that the One like Thee may draw near us through Thy Good Mind within +the Soul. + +2. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright how, in pleasing Him, may +we serve the Supreme One of the better world; yea, how to serve that +chief who may grant us those blessings of his grace and who will seek +for grateful requitals at our hands; for He, bountiful as He is through +the Righteous Order, will hold off ruin from us all, guardian as He is +for both the worlds, O Spirit Mazda! and a friend. + +3. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who by generation is the +first father of the Righteous Order within the world? Who gave the +recurring sun and stars their undeviating way? Who established that +whereby the moon waxes, and whereby she wanes, save Thee? These things, +O Great Creator! would I know, and others likewise still. + +4. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who from beneath hath +sustained the earth and the clouds above that they do not fall? Who made +the waters and the plants? Who to the wind has yoked on the storm-clouds +the swift and fleetest two? Who, O Great Creator! is the inspirer of the +good thoughts within our souls? + +5. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who, as a skillful artisan, +hath made the lights and the darkness? Who, as thus skillful, hath made +sleep and the zest of waking hours? Who spread the Auroras, the +noontides and midnight, monitors to discerning man, duty's true guides? + +6. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright these things which I shall +speak forth, if they are truly thus. Doth the Piety which we cherish in +reality increase the sacred orderliness within our actions? To these Thy +true saints hath she given the Realm through the Good Mind? For whom +hast thou made the Mother-kine, the produce of joy? + +7. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who fashioned Aramaiti (our +piety) the beloved, together with Thy Sovereign Power? Who, through his +guiding wisdom, hath made the son revering the father? Who made him +beloved? With questions such as these, so abundant, O Mazda! I press +Thee, O bountiful Spirit, Thou maker of all! + +Yasna xliv.: Translation of L.H. Mills. + + +THE ANGEL OF DIVINE OBEDIENCE + +We worship Sraosha [Obedience] the blessed, whom four racers draw in +harness, white and shining, beautiful and (27) powerful, quick to learn +and fleet, obeying before speech, heeding orders from the mind, with +their hoofs of horn gold-covered, (28) fleeter than [our] horses, +swifter than the winds, more rapid than the rain [drops as they fall]; +yea, fleeter than the clouds, or well-winged birds, or the well-shot +arrow as it flies, (29) which overtake these swift ones all, as they fly +after them pursuing, but which are never overtaken when they flee, which +plunge away from both the weapons [hurled on this side and on that] and +draw Sraosha with them, the good Sraosha and the blessed; which from +both the weapons [those on this side and on that] bear the good +Obedience the blessed, plunging forward in their zeal, when he takes his +course from India on the East and when he lights down in the West. + +Yasna lvii. 27-29: Translation of L.H. Mills. + + +TO THE FIRE + +I offer my sacrifice and homage to thee, the Fire, as a good offering, +and an offering with our hail of salvation, even as an offering of +praise with benedictions, to thee, the Fire, O Ahura, Mazda's son! Meet +for sacrifice art thou, and worthy of [our] homage. And as meet for +sacrifice, and thus worthy of our homage, may'st thou be in the houses +of men [who worship Mazda]. Salvation be to this man who worships thee +in verity and truth, with wood in hand and baresma [sacred twigs] ready, +with flesh in hand and holding too the mortar. 2. And mayst thou be +[ever] fed with wood as the prescription orders. Yea, mayst thou have +thy perfume justly, and thy sacred butter without fail, and thine +andirons regularly placed. Be of full age as to thy nourishment, of the +canon's age as to the measure of thy food. O Fire, Ahura, Mazda's son! +3. Be now aflame within this house; be ever without fail in flame; be +all ashine within this house: for long time be thou thus to the +furtherance of the heroic [renovation], to the completion of [all] +progress, yea, even till the good heroic [millennial] time when that +renovation shall have become complete. 4. Give me, O Fire, Ahura, +Mazda's son! a speedy glory, speedy nourishment and speedy booty and +abundant glory, abundant nourishment, abundant booty, an expanded mind, +and nimbleness of tongue and soul and understanding, even an +understanding continually growing in its largeness, and that never +wanders. Yasna lxii. 1-4: Translation of L.H. Mills. + + +THE GODDESS OF THE WATERS + +Offer up a sacrifice unto this spring of mine, Ardvi Sura Anahita (the +exalted, mighty, and undefiled, image of the (128) stream celestial), +who stands carried forth in the shape of a maid, fair of body, most +strong, tall-formed, high-girded, pure, nobly born of a glorious race, +wearing a mantle fully embroidered with gold. 129. Ever holding the +baresma in her hand, according to the rules; she wears square golden +ear-rings on her ears bored, and a golden necklace around her beautiful +neck, she, the nobly born Ardvi Sura Anahita; and she girded her waist +tightly, so that her breasts may be well shaped, that they may be +tightly pressed. 128. Upon her head Ardvi Sura Anahita bound a golden +crown, with a hundred stars, with eight rays, a fine well-made crown, +with fillets streaming down. 129. She is clothed with garments of +beaver, Ardvi Sura Anahita; with the skin of thirty beavers, of those +that bear four young ones, that are the finest kind of beavers; for the +skin of the beaver that lives in water is the finest colored of all +skins, and when worked at the right time it shines to the eye with full +sheen of silver and gold. Yasht v. 126-129: Translation of J. +Darmesteter. + + +GUARDIAN SPIRITS + +We worship the good, strong, beneficent Fravashis [guardian spirits] of +the faithful; with helms of brass, with weapons (45) of brass, with +armor of brass; who struggle in the fights for victory in garments of +light, arraying the battles and bringing them forwards, to kill +thousands of Dævas [demons]. 46. When the wind blows from behind them +and brings their breath unto men, then men know where blows the breath +of victory: and they pay pious homage unto the good, strong, beneficent +Fravashis of the faithful, with their hearts prepared and their arms +uplifted. 47. Whichever side they have been first worshiped in the +fulness of faith of a devoted heart, to that side turn the awful +Fravashis of the faithful along with Mithra [angel of truth and light] +and Rashnu [Justice] and the awful cursing thought of the wise and the +victorious wind. + +Yasht xiii. 45-47: Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +AN ANCIENT SINDBAD + +The manly-hearted Keresaspa was the sturdiest of the men of strength, +for Manly Courage clave unto him. We worship [this] Manly Courage, firm +of foot, unsleeping, quick to rise, and fully awake, that clave unto +Keresaspa [the hero], who killed the snake Srvara, the horse-devouring, +man-devouring, yellow poisonous snake, over which yellow poison flowed a +thumb's breadth thick. Upon him Kerasaspa was cooking his food in a +brass vessel, at the time of noon. The fiend felt the heat and darted +away; he rushed from under the brass vessel and upset the boiling water: +the manly-hearted Keresaspa fell back affrighted. + +Yasht xix. 38-40: Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +THE WISE MAN + +Verily I say it unto thee, O Spitama Zoroaster! the man who has a wife +is far above him who lives in continence; he who keeps a house is far +above him who has none; he who has children is far above the childless +man; he who has riches is far above him who has none. + +And of two men, he who fills himself with meat receives in him good +spirit [Vohu Mano] much more than he who does not do so; the latter is +all but dead; the former is above him by the worth of a sheep, by the +worth of an ox, by the worth of a man. + +It is this man that can strive against the onsets of death; that can +strive against the well-darted arrow; that can strive against the winter +fiend with thinnest garment on; that can strive against the wicked +tyrant and smite him on the head; it is this man that can strive against +the ungodly fasting Ashemaogha [the fiends and heretics who do not eat]. + +Vendidad iv. 47-49: Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +INVOCATION TO RAIN + +"Come on, O clouds, along the sky, through the air, down on the earth, +by thousands of drops, by myriads of drops," thus say, O holy Zoroaster! +"to destroy sickness altogether, to destroy death altogether, to destroy +altogether the sickness made by the Gaini, to destroy altogether the +death made by Gaini, to destroy altogether Gadha and Apagadha. + +"If death come at eve, may healing come at daybreak! + +"If death come at daybreak, may healing come at night! + +"If death come at night, may healing come at dawn! + +"Let showers shower down new waters, new earth, new trees, new health, +and new healing powers." + +Vendidad xxi. 2: Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +A PRAYER FOR HEALING + +Ahura Mazda spake unto Spitama Zoroaster, saying, "I, Ahura Mazda, the +Maker of all good things, when I made this mansion, the beautiful, the +shining, seen afar (there may I go up, there may I arrive)!" + +Then the ruffian looked at me; the ruffian Anra Mainyu, the deadly, +wrought against me nine diseases and ninety, and nine hundred, and nine +thousand, and nine times ten thousand diseases. So mayest thou heal me, +O Holy Word, thou most glorious one! + +Unto thee will I give in return a thousand fleet, swift-running steeds; +I offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda and holy. + +Unto thee will I give in return a thousand fleet, high-humped camels; I +offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda and holy. + +Unto thee will I give in return a thousand brown faultless oxen; I offer +thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda and holy. + +Unto thee will I give in return a thousand young of all species of small +cattle; I offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda +and holy. + +And I will bless thee with the fair blessing-spell of the righteous, the +friendly blessing-spell of the righteous, that makes the empty swell to +fullness and the full to overflowing, that comes to help him who was +sickening, and makes the sick man sound again. Vendidad xxii. 1-5: +Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +FRAGMENT + +All good thoughts, and all good words, and all good deeds are thought +and spoken and done with intelligence; and all evil thoughts and words +and deeds are thought and spoken and done with folly. + +2. And let [the men who think and speak and do] all good thoughts and +words and deeds inhabit Heaven [as their home]. And let those who think +and speak and do evil thoughts and words and deeds abide in Hell. For to +all who think good thoughts, speak good words, and do good deeds, +Heaven, the best world, belongs. And this is evident and as of course. +Avesta, Fragment iii.: Translation of L.H. Mills. + + + + +AVICEBRON + +(1028-? 1058) + + +Avicebron, or Avicebrol (properly Solomon ben Judah ibn Gabirol), one of +the most famous of Jewish poets, and the most original of Jewish +thinkers, was born at Cordova, in Spain, about A.D. 1028. Of the events +of his life we know little; and it was only in 1845 that Munk, in the +'Literaturblatt des Orient,' proved the Jewish poet Ibn Gabirol to be +one and the same person with Avicebron, so often quoted by the Schoolmen +as an Arab philosopher. He was educated at Saragossa, spent some years +at Malaga, and died, hardly thirty years old, about 1058. His +disposition seems to have been rather melancholy. + +Of his philosophic works, which were written in Arabic, by far the most +important, and that which lent lustre to his name, was the 'Fountain of +Life'; a long treatise in the form of a dialogue between teacher and +pupil, on what was then regarded as the fundamental question in +philosophy, the nature and relations of Matter and Form. The original, +which seems never to have been popular with either Jews or Arabs, is not +known to exist; but there exists a complete Latin translation (the work +having found appreciation among Christians), which has recently been +edited with great care by Professor Bäumker of Breslau, under the title +'Avencebrolis Fons Vitae, ex Arabico in Latinum translatus ab Johanne +Hispano et Dominico Gundissalino' (Münster, 1895). There is also a +series of extracts from it in Hebrew. Besides this, he wrote a +half-popular work, 'On the Improvement of Character,' in which he brings +the different virtues into relation with the five senses. He is, +further, the reputed author of a work 'On the Soul,' and the reputed +compiler of a famous anthology, 'A Choice of Pearls,' which appeared, +with an English translation by B.H. Ascher, in London, in 1859. In his +poetry, which, like that of other mediæval Hebrew poets, Moses ben Ezra, +Judah Halévy, etc., is partly liturgical, partly worldly, he abandons +native forms, such as we find in the Psalms, and follows artificial +Arabic models, with complicated rhythms and rhyme, unsuited to Hebrew, +which, unlike Arabic, is poor in inflections. Nevertheless, many of his +liturgical pieces are still used in the services of the synagogue, while +his worldly ditties find admirers elsewhere. (See A. Geiger, 'Ibn +Gabirol und seine Dichtungen,' Leipzig, 1867.) + +The philosophy of Ibn Gabirol is a compound of Hebrew monotheism and +that Neo-Platonic Aristotelianism which for two hundred years had been +current in the Muslim schools at Bagdad, Basra, etc., and which the +learned Jews were largely instrumental in carrying to the Muslims of +Spain. For it must never be forgotten that the great translators and +intellectual purveyors of the Middle Ages were the Jews. (See +Steinschneider, 'Die Hebräischen Uebersetzungen des Mittelalters, und +die Juden als Dolmetscher,' 2 vols., Berlin, 1893.) + +The aim of Ibn Gabirol, like that of the other three noted Hebrew +thinkers, Philo, Maimonides, and Spinoza, was--given God, to account for +creation; and this he tried to do by means of Neo-Platonic +Aristotelianism, such as he found in the Pseudo-Pythagoras, +Pseudo-Empedocles, Pseudo-Aristotelian 'Theology' (an abstract from +Plotinus), and 'Book on Causes' (an abstract from Proclus's 'Institutio +Theologica'). It is well known that Aristotle, who made God a "thinking +of thinking," and placed matter, as something eternal, over against him, +never succeeded in bringing God into effective connection with the world +(see K. Elser, 'Die Lehredes Aristotles über das Wirken Gottes,' +Münster, 1893); and this defect the Greeks never afterward remedied +until the time of Plotinus, who, without propounding a doctrine of +emanation, arranged the universe as a hierarchy of existence, beginning +with the Good, and descending through correlated Being and Intelligence, +to Soul or Life, which produces Nature with all its multiplicity, and so +stands on "the horizon" between undivided and divided being. In the +famous encyclopaedia of the "Brothers of Purity," written in the East +about A.D. 1000, and representing Muslim thought at its best, the +hierarchy takes this form: God, Intelligence, Soul, Primal Matter, +Secondary Matter, World, Nature, the Elements, Material Things. (See +Dieterici, 'Die Philosophic der Araber im X. Jahrhundert n. Chr.,' 2 +vols., Leipzig, 1876-79.) In the hands of Ibn Gabirol, this is +transformed thus: God, Will, Primal Matter, Form, Intelligence, +Soul--vegetable, animal, rational, Nature, the source of the visible +world. If we compare these hierarchies, we shall see that Ibn Gabirol +makes two very important changes: _first_, he introduces an altogether +new element, viz., the Will; _second_, instead of placing Intelligence +second in rank, next to God, he puts Will, Matter, and Form before it. +Thus, whereas the earliest thinkers, drawing on Aristotle, had sought +for an explanation of the world in Intelligence, he seeks for it in +Will, thus approaching the standpoint of Schopenhauer. Moreover, whereas +they had made Matter and Form originate in Intelligence, he includes the +latter, together with the material world, among things compounded of +Matter and Form. Hence, everything, save God and His Will, which is but +the expression of Him, is compounded of Matter and Form (cf. Dante, +'Paradiso,' i. 104 _seq_.). Had he concluded from this that God, in +order to occupy this exceptional position, must be pure matter (or +substance), he would have reached the standpoint of Spinoza. As it is, +he stands entirely alone in the Middle Age, in making the world the +product of Will, and not of Intelligence, as the Schoolmen and the +classical philosophers of Germany held. + +The 'Fountain of Life' is divided into five books, whose subjects are as +follows:--I. Matter and Form, and their various kinds. II. Matter as the +bearer of body, and the subject of the categories. III. Separate +Substances, in the created intellect, standing between God and the +World. IV. Matter and Form in simple substances. V. Universal Matter and +Universal Form, with a discussion of the Divine Will, which, by +producing and uniting Matter and Form, brings being out of non-being, +and so is the 'Fountain of Life.' Though the author is influenced by +Jewish cosmogony, his system, as such, is almost purely Neo-Platonic. It +remains one of the most considerable attempts that have ever been made +to find in spirit the explanation of the world; not only making all +matter at bottom one, but also maintaining that while form is due to the +divine will, matter is due to the divine essence, so that both are +equally spiritual. It is especially interesting as showing us, by +contrast, how far Christian thinking, which rested on much the same +foundation with it, was influenced and confined by Christian dogmas, +especially by those of the Trinity and the Incarnation. + +Ibn Gabirol's thought exerted a profound influence, not only on +subsequent Hebrew thinkers, like Joseph ben Saddig, Maimonides, Spinoza, +but also on the Christian Schoolmen, by whom he is often quoted, and on +Giordano Bruno. Through Spinoza and Bruno this influence has passed into +the modern world, where it still lives. Dante, though naming many Arab +philosophers, never alludes to Ibn Gabirol; yet he borrowed more of his +sublimest thoughts from the 'Fountain of Life' than from any other book. +(Cf. Ibn Gabirol's 'Bedeutung für die Geschichte der Philosophie,' +appendix to Vol. i. of M. Joël's 'Beiträge zur Gesch. der Philos.,' +Breslau, 1876.) If we set aside the hypostatic form in which Ibn Gabirol +puts forward his ideas, we shall find a remarkable similarity between +his system and that of Kant, not to speak of that of Schopenhauer. For +the whole subject, see J. Guttman's 'Die Philosophic des Salomon Ibn +Gabirol' (Göttingen, 1889). + + +ON MATTER AND FORM + +From the 'Fountain of Life,' Fifth Treatise + +Intelligence is finite in both directions: on the upper side, by reason +of will, which is above it; on the lower, by reason of matter, which is +outside of its essence. Hence, spiritual substances are finite with +respect to matter, because they differ through it, and distinction is +the cause of finitude; in respect to forms they are infinite on the +lower side, because one form flows from another. And we must bear in +mind that that part of matter which is above heaven, the more it ascends +from it to the principle of creation, becomes the more spiritual in +form, whereas that part which descends lower than the heaven toward +quiet will be more corporeal in form. Matter, intelligence, and soul +comprehend heaven, and heaven comprehends the elements. And just as, if +you imagine your soul standing at the extreme height of heaven, and +looking back upon the earth, the earth will seem but a point, in +comparison with the heaven, so are corporeal and spiritual substance in +comparison with the will. And first matter is stable in the knowledge of +God, as the earth in the midst of heaven. And the form diffused through +it is as the light diffused through the air.... + +We must bear in mind that the unity induced by the will (we might say, +the will itself) binds matter to form. Hence that union is stable, firm, +and perpetual from the beginning of its creation; and thus unity +sustains all things. + +Matter is movable, in order that it may receive form, in conformity +with its appetite for receiving goodness and delight through the +reception of form. In like manner, everything that is, desires to move, +in order that it may attain something of the goodness of the primal +being; and the nearer anything is to the primal being, the more easily +it reaches this, and the further off it is, the more slowly and with the +longer motion and time it does so. And the motion of matter and other +substances is nothing but appetite and love for the mover toward which +it moves, as, for example, matter moves toward form, through desire for +the primal being; for matter requires light from that which is in the +essence of will, which compels matter to move toward will and to desire +it: and herein will and matter are alike. And because matter is +receptive of the form that has flowed down into it by the flux of +violence and necessity, matter must necessarily move to receive form; +and therefore things are constrained by will and obedience in turn. +Hence by the light which it has from will, matter moves toward will and +desires it; but when it receives form, it lacks nothing necessary for +knowing and desiring it, and nothing remains for it to seek for. For +example, in the morning the air has an imperfect splendor from the sun; +but at noon it has a perfect splendor, and there remains nothing for it +to demand of the sun. Hence the desire for the first motion is a +likeness between all substances and the first Maker, because it is +impressed upon all things to move toward the first; because particular +matter desires particular form, and the matter of plants and animals, +which, in generating, move toward the forms of plants and animals, are +also influenced by the particular form acting in them. In like manner +the sensible soul moves toward sensible forms, and the rational soul to +intelligible forms, because the particular soul, which is called the +first intellect, while it is in its principle, is susceptible of form; +but when it shall have received the form of universal intelligence, +which is the second intellect, and shall become intelligence, then it +will be strong to act, and will be called the second intellect; and +since particular souls have such a desire, it follows that universal +souls must have a desire for universal forms. The same thing must be +said of natural matter,--that is, the substance which sustains the nine +categories; because this matter moves to take on the first qualities, +then to the mineral form, then to the vegetable, then to the sensible, +then to the rational, then to the intelligible, until at last it is +united to the form of universal intelligence. And this primal matter +desires primal form; and all things that are, desire union and +commixture, that so they may be assimilated to their principle; and +therefore, genera, species, differentiae, and contraries are united +through something in singulars. + +Thus, matter is like an empty schedule and a wax tablet; whereas form is +like a painted shape and words set down, from which the reader reaches +the end of science. And when the soul knows these, it desires to know +the wonderful painter of them, to whose essence it is impossible to +ascend. Thus matter and form are the two closed gates of intelligence, +which it is hard for intelligence to open and pass through, because the +substance of intelligence is below them, and made up of them. And when +the soul has subtilized itself, until it can penetrate them, it arrives +at the word, that is, at perfect will; and then its motion ceases, and +its joy remains. + +An analogy to the fact that the universal will actualizes universal form +in the matter of intelligence is the fact that the particular will +actualizes the particular form in the soul without time, and life and +essential motion in the matter of the soul, and local motion and other +motions in the matter of nature. But all these motions are derived from +the will; and so all things are moved by the will, just as the soul +causes rest or motion in the body according to its will. And this motion +is different according to the greater or less proximity of things to the +will. And if we remove action from the will, the will will be identical +with the primal essence; whereas, with action, it is different from it. +Hence, will is as the painter of all forms; the matter of each thing as +a tablet; and the form of each thing as the picture on the tablet. It +binds form to matter, and is diffused through the whole of matter, from +highest to lowest, as the soul through the body; and as the virtue of +the sun, diffusing its light, unites with the light, and with it +descends into the air, so the virtue of the will unites with the form +which it imparts to all things, and descends with it. On this ground it +is said that the first cause is in all things, and that there is nothing +without it. + +The will holds all things together by means of form; whence we likewise +say that form holds all things together. Thus, form is intermediate +between will and matter, receiving from will, and giving to matter. And +will acts without time or motion, through its own might. If the action +of soul and intelligence, and the infusion of light are instantaneous, +much more so is that of will. + +Creation comes from the high creator, and is an emanation, like the +issue of water flowing from its source; but whereas water follows water +without intermission or rest, creation is without motion or time. The +sealing of form upon matter, as it flows in from the will, is like the +sealing or reflection of a form in a mirror, when it is seen. And as +sense receives the form of the felt without the matter, so everything +that acts upon another acts solely through its own form, which it simply +impresses upon that other. Hence genus, species, differentia, property, +accident, and all forms in matter are merely an impression made +by wisdom. + +The created soul is gifted with the knowledge which is proper to it; but +after it is united to the body, it is withdrawn from receiving those +impressions which are proper to it, by reason of the very darkness of +the body, covering and extinguishing its light, and blurring it, just as +in the case of a clear mirror: when dense substance is put over it its +light is obscured. And therefore God, by the subtlety of his substance, +formed this world, and arranged it according to this most beautiful +order, in which it is, and equipped the soul with senses, wherein, when +it uses them, that which is hidden in it is manifested in act; and the +soul, in apprehending sensible things, is like a man who sees many +things, and when he departs from them, finds that nothing remains with +him but the vision of imagination and memory. + +We must also bear in mind that, while matter is made by essence, form is +made by will. And it is said that matter is the seat of God, and that +will, the giver of form, sits on it and rests upon it. And through the +knowledge of these things we ascend to those things which are behind +them, that is, to the cause why there is anything; and this is a +knowledge of the world of deity, which is the greatest whole: whatever +is below it is very small in comparison with it. + + + + +ROBERT AYTOUN + +(1570-1638) + + +This Scottish poet was born in his father's castle of Kinaldie, near St. +Andrews, Fifeshire, in 1570. He was descended from the Norman family of +De Vescy, a younger son of which settled in Scotland and received from +Robert Bruce the lands of Aytoun in Berwickshire. Kincardie came into +the family about 1539. Robert Aytoun was educated at St. Andrews, taking +his degree in 1588, traveled on the Continent like other wealthy +Scottish gentlemen, and studied law at the University of Paris. +Returning in 1603, he delighted James I. by a Latin poem congratulating +him on his accession to the English throne. Thereupon the poet received +an invitation to court as Groom of the Privy Chamber. He rose rapidly, +was knighted in 1612, and made Gentleman of the Bedchamber to King James +and private secretary to Queen Anne. When Charles I. ascended the +throne, Aytoun was retained, and held many important posts. According to +Aubrey, "he was acquainted with all the witts of his time in England." +Sir Robert was essentially a court poet, and belonged to the cultivated +circle of Scottish favorites that James gathered around him; yet there +is no mention of him in the gossipy diaries of the period, and almost +none in the State papers. He seems, however, to have been popular: Ben +Jonson boasts that Aytoun "loved me dearly." It is not surprising that +his mild verses should have faded in the glorious light of the +contemporary poets. + +[Illustration: ROBERT AYTOUN] + +He wrote in Greek and French, and many of his Latin poems were published +under the title 'Delitiae Poetarum Scotorum' (Amsterdam, 1637). His +English poems on such themes as a 'Love Dirge,' 'The Poet Forsaken,' +'The Lover's Remonstrance,' 'Address to an Inconstant Mistress,' etc., +do not show depth of emotion. He says of himself:-- + + "Yet have I been a lover by report, + Yea, I have died for love as others do; + But praised be God, it was in such a sort + That I revived within an hour or two." + +The lines beginning "I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair," quoted +below with their adaptation by Burns, do not appear in his MSS., +collected by his heir Sir John Aytoun, nor in the edition of his works +with a memoir prepared by Dr. Charles Rogers, published in Edinburgh in +1844 and reprinted privately in 1871. Dean Stanley, in his 'Memorials of +Westminster Abbey,' accords to him the original of 'Auld Lang Syne,' +which Rogers includes in his edition. Burns's song follows the version +attributed to Francis Temple. + +Aytoun passed his entire life in luxury, died in Whitehall Palace in +1638, and was the first Scottish poet buried in Westminster Abbey. His +memorial bust was taken from a portrait by Vandyke. + + + INCONSTANCY UPBRAIDED + + I loved thee once, I'll love no more; + Thine be the grief as is the blame: + Thou art not what thou wast before, + What reason I should be the same? + He that can love unloved again, + Hath better store of love than brain; + God send me love my debts to pay, + While unthrifts fool their love away. + + Nothing could have my love o'erthrown, + If thou hadst still continued mine; + Yea, if thou hadst remained thy own, + I might perchance have yet been thine. + But thou thy freedom didst recall, + That it thou might elsewhere inthrall; + And then how could I but disdain + A captive's captive to remain? + + When new desires had conquered thee, + And changed the object of thy will, + It had been lethargy in me, + Not constancy, to love thee still. + Yea, it had been a sin to go + And prostitute affection so; + Since we are taught no prayers to say + To such as must to others pray. + + Yet do thou glory in thy choice, + Thy choice of his good fortune boast; + I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice + To see him gain what I have lost. + The height of my disdain shall be + To laugh at him, to blush for thee; + To love thee still, but go no more + A-begging to a beggar's door. + + + LINES TO AN INCONSTANT MISTRESS + + I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair, + And I might have gone near to love thee, + Had I not found the slightest prayer + That lips could speak had power to move thee. + But I can let thee now alone, + As worthy to be loved by none. + + I do confess thou'rt sweet, yet find + Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, + Thy favors are but like the wind + Which kisseth everything it meets! + And since thou canst love more than one, + Thou'rt worthy to be loved by none. + + The morning rose that untouched stands, + Armed with her briers, how sweet she smells! + But plucked and strained through ruder hands, + Her scent no longer with her dwells. + But scent and beauty both are gone, + And leaves fall from her one by one. + + Such fate ere long will thee betide, + When thou hast handled been awhile, + Like fair flowers to be thrown aside; + And thou shalt sigh while I shall smile, + To see thy love to every one + Hath brought thee to be loved by none. + + + BURNS'S ADAPTATION + + I do confess thou art sae fair, + I wad been ower the lugs in love + Had I na found the slightest prayer + That lips could speak, thy heart could move. + I do confess thee sweet--but find + Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets, + Thy favors are the silly wind, + That kisses ilka thing it meets. + See yonder rosebud rich in dew, + Among its native briers sae coy, + How sune it tines its scent and hue + When pu'd and worn a common toy. + Sic fate, ere lang, shall thee betide, + Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile; + Yet sune thou shalt be thrown aside + Like any common weed and vile. + + + + +WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN + +(1813-1865) + + +Aytoun the second, balladist, humorist, and Tory, in proportions of +about equal importance,--one of the group of wits and devotees of the +_status quo_ who made Blackwood's Magazine so famous in its early +days,--was born in Edinburgh, June 21st, 1813. He was the son of Roger +Aytoun, "writer to the Signet"; and a descendant of Sir Robert Aytoun +(1570-1638), the poet and friend of Ben Jonson, who followed James VI. +from Scotland and who is buried in Westminster Abbey. Both Aytoun's +parents were literary. His mother, who knew Sir Walter Scott, and who +gave Lockhart many details for his biography, helped the lad in his +poems. She seemed to him to know all the ballads ever sung. His earliest +verses were praised by Professor John Wilson ("Christopher North"), the +first editor of Blackwood's, whose daughter he married in 1849. At the +age of nineteen he published his 'Poland, Homer, and Other Poems' +(Edinburgh, 1832). After leaving the University of Edinburgh, he studied +law in London, visited Germany, and returning to Scotland, was called to +the bar in 1840. He disliked the profession, and used to say that though +he followed the law he never could overtake it. + +While in Germany he translated the first part of 'Faust' in blank verse, +which was never published. Many of his translations from Uhland and +Homer appeared in Blackwood's from 1836 to 1840, and many of his early +writings were signed "Augustus Dunshunner." In 1844 he joined the +editorial staff of Blackwood's, to which for many years he contributed +political articles, verse, translations of Goethe, and humorous +sketches. In 1845 he became Professor of Rhetoric and Literature in the +University of Edinburgh, a place which he held until 1864. About 1841 he +became acquainted with Theodore Martin, and in association with him +wrote a series of light papers interspersed with burlesque verses, +which, reprinted from Blackwood's, became popular as the 'Bon Gaultier +Ballads.' Published in London in 1855, they reached their thirteenth +edition in 1877. + + "Some papers of a humorous kind, which I had published under + the _nom de plume_ of Bon Gaultier," says Theodore Martin in + his 'Memoir of Aytoun,' "had hit Aytoun's fancy; and when I + proposed to go on with others in a similar vein, he fell + readily into the plan, and agreed to assist in it. In this + way a kind of a Beaumont-and-Fletcher partnership commenced + in a series of humorous papers, which appeared in Tait's and + Fraser's magazines from 1842 to 1844. In these papers, in + which we ran a-tilt, with all the recklessness of youthful + spirits, against such of the tastes or follies of the day as + presented an opening for ridicule or mirth,--at the same time + that we did not altogether lose sight of a purpose higher + than mere amusement,--appeared the verses, with a few + exceptions, which subsequently became popular, and to a + degree we then little contemplated, as the 'Bon Gaultier + Ballads.' Some of the best of these were exclusively + Aytoun's, such as 'The Massacre of the McPherson,' 'The Rhyme + of Sir Launcelot Bogle,' 'The Broken Pitcher,' 'The Red Friar + and Little John,' 'The Lay of Mr. Colt,' and that best of all + imitations of the Scottish ballad, 'The Queen in France.' + Some were wholly mine, and the rest were produced by us + jointly. Fortunately for our purpose, there were then living + not a few poets whose style and manner of thought were + sufficiently marked to make imitation easy, and sufficiently + popular for a parody of their characteristics to be readily + recognized. Macaulay's 'Lays of Rome' and his two other fine + ballads were still in the freshness of their fame. Lockhart's + 'Spanish Ballads' were as familiar in the drawing-room as in + the study. Tennyson and Mrs. Browning were opening up new + veins of poetry. These, with Wordsworth, Moore, Uhland, and + others of minor note, lay ready to our hands,--as Scott, + Byron, Crabbe, Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Southey had done to + James and Horace Smith in 1812, when writing the 'Rejected + Addresses.' Never, probably, were verses thrown off with a + keener sense of enjoyment." + +With Theodore Martin he published also 'Poems and Ballads of Goethe' +(London, 1858). Mr. Aytoun's fame as a poet rests on his 'Lays of the +Cavaliers,' the themes of which are selected from stirring incidents of +Scottish history, ranging from Flodden Field to the Battle of Culloden. +The favorites in popular memory are 'The Execution of Montrose' and 'The +Burial March of Dundee.' This book, published in London and Edinburgh in +1849, has gone through twenty-nine editions. + +His dramatic poem, 'Firmilian: a Spasmodic Tragedy,' written to ridicule +the style of Bailey, Dobell, and Alexander Smith, and published in 1854, +had so many excellent qualities that it was received as a serious +production instead of a caricature. Aytoun introduced this in +Blackwood's Magazine as a pretended review of an unpublished tragedy (as +with the 'Rolliad,' and as Lockhart had done in the case of "Peter's +Letters," so successfully that he had to write the book itself as a +"second edition" to answer the demand for it). This review was so +cleverly done that "most of the newspaper critics took the part of the +poet against the reviewer, never suspecting the identity of both, and +maintained the poetry to be fine poetry and the critic a dunce." The +sarcasm of 'Firmilian' is so delicate that only those familiar with the +school it is intended to satirize can fairly appreciate its qualities. +The drama opens showing Firmilian in his study, planning the composition +of 'Cain: a Tragedy'; and being infused with the spirit of the hero, he +starts on a career of crime. Among his deeds is the destruction of the +cathedral of Badajoz, which first appears in his mental vision thus:-- + + "Methought I saw the solid vaults give way, + And the entire cathedral rise in air, + As if it leaped from Pandemonium's jaws." + +To effect this he employs-- + + "Some twenty barrels of the dusky grain + The secret of whose framing in an hour + Of diabolic jollity and mirth + Old Roger Bacon wormed from Beelzebub." + +When the horror is accomplished, at a moment when the inhabitants of +Badajoz are at prayer, Firmilian rather enjoys the scene:-- + + "Pillars and altar, organ loft and screen, + With a singed swarm of mortals intermixed, + Whirling in anguish to the shuddering stars." + +"'Firmilian,'" to quote from Aytoun's biographer again, "deserves to +keep its place in literature, if only as showing how easy it is for a +man of real poetic power to throw off, in sport, pages of sonorous and +sparkling verse, simply by ignoring the fetters of nature and +common-sense and dashing headlong on Pegasus through the wilderness of +fancy." Its extravagances of rhetoric can be imagined from the following +brief extract, somewhat reminiscent of Marlowe:-- + + "And shall I then take Celsus for my guide, + Confound my brain with dull Justinian tomes, + Or stir the dust that lies o'er Augustine? + Not I, in faith! I've leaped into the air, + And clove my way through ether like a bird + That flits beneath the glimpses of the moon, + Right eastward, till I lighted at the foot + Of holy Helicon, and drank my fill + At the clear spout of Aganippe's stream; + I've rolled my limbs in ecstasy along + The selfsame turf on which old Homer lay + That night he dreamed of Helen and of Troy: + And I have heard, at midnight, the sweet strains + Come quiring from the hilltop, where, enshrined + In the rich foldings of a silver cloud, + The Muses sang Apollo into sleep." + +In 1856 was printed 'Bothwell,' a poetic monologue on Mary Stuart's +lover. Of Aytoun's humorous sketches, the most humorous are 'My First +Spec in the Biggleswades,' and 'How We Got Up the Glen Mutchkin +Railway'; tales written during the railway mania of 1845, which treat of +the folly and dishonesty of its promoters, and show many typical +Scottish characters. His 'Ballads of Scotland' was issued in 1858; it is +an edition of the best ancient minstrelsy, with preface and notes. In +1861 appeared 'Norman Sinclair,' a novel published first in Blackwood's, +and giving interesting pictures of society in Scotland and personal +experiences. + +After Professor Wilson's death, Aytoun was considered the leading man of +letters in Scotland; a rank which he modestly accepted by writing in +1838 to a friend:--"I am getting a kind of fame as the literary man of +Scotland. Thirty years ago, in the North countries, a fellow achieved an +immense reputation as 'The Tollman,' being the solitary individual +entitled by law to levy blackmail at a ferry." In 1860 he was made +Honorary President of the Associated Societies of the University of +Edinburgh, his competitor being Thackeray. This was the place held +afterward by Lord Lytton, Sir David Brewster, Carlyle, and Gladstone. +Aytoun wrote the 'The Life and Times of Richard the First' (London, +1840), and in 1863 a 'Nuptial Ode on the Marriage of the Prince +of Wales.' + +Aytoun was a man of great charm and geniality in society; even to +Americans, though he detested America with the energy of fear--the fear +of all who see its prosperity sapping the foundations of their class +society. He died in 1865; and in 1867 his biography was published by Sir +Theodore Martin, his collaborator. Martin's definition of Aytoun's place +in literature is felicitous:-- + + * * * * * + +"Fashions in poetry may alter, but so long as the themes with which they +deal have an interest for his countrymen, his 'Lays' will find, as they +do now, a wide circle of admirers. His powers as a humorist were perhaps +greater than as a poet. They have certainly been more widely +appreciated. His immediate contemporaries owe him much, for he has +contributed largely to that kindly mirth without which the strain and +struggle of modern life would be intolerable. Much that is excellent in +his humorous writings may very possibly cease to retain a place in +literature from the circumstance that he deals with characters and +peculiarities which are in some measure local, and phases of life and +feeling and literature which are more or less ephemeral. But much will +certainly continue to be read and enjoyed by the sons and grandsons of +those for whom it was originally written; and his name will be coupled +with those of Wilson, Lockhart, Sydney Smith, Peacock, Jerrold, Mahony, +and Hood, as that of a man gifted with humor as genuine and original as +theirs, however opinions may vary as to the order of their +relative merits." + +'The Modern Endymion,' from which an extract is given, is a parody on +Disraeli's earlier manner. + + + THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEE + + From the 'Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers' + + + I + + Sound the fife and cry the slogan; + Let the pibroch shake the air + With its wild, triumphant music, + Worthy of the freight we bear. + Let the ancient hills of Scotland + Hear once more the battle-song + Swell within their glens and valleys + As the clansmen march along! + Never from the field of combat, + Never from the deadly fray, + Was a nobler trophy carried + Than we bring with us to-day; + Never since the valiant Douglas + On his dauntless bosom bore + Good King Robert's heart--the priceless-- + To our dear Redeemer's shore! + Lo! we bring with us the hero-- + Lo! we bring the conquering Graeme, + Crowned as best beseems a victor + From the altar of his fame; + Fresh and bleeding from the battle + Whence his spirit took its flight, + 'Midst the crashing charge of squadrons, + And the thunder of the fight! + Strike, I say, the notes of triumph, + As we march o'er moor and lea! + Is there any here will venture + To bewail our dead Dundee? + Let the widows of the traitors + Weep until their eyes are dim! + Wail ye may full well for Scotland-- + Let none dare to mourn for him! + See! above his glorious body + Lies the royal banner's fold-- + See! his valiant blood is mingled + With its crimson and its gold. + See how calm he looks and stately, + Like a warrior on his shield, + Waiting till the flush of morning + Breaks along the battle-field! + See--oh, never more, my comrades, + Shall we see that falcon eye + Redden with its inward lightning, + As the hour of fight drew nigh! + Never shall we hear the voice that, + Clearer than the trumpet's call, + Bade us strike for king and country, + Bade us win the field, or fall! + + + II + + On the heights of Killiecrankie + Yester-morn our army lay: + Slowly rose the mist in columns + From the river's broken way; + Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, + And the Pass was wrapped in gloom, + When the clansmen rose together + From their lair amidst the broom. + Then we belted on our tartans, + And our bonnets down we drew, + As we felt our broadswords' edges, + And we proved them to be true; + And we prayed the prayer of soldiers, + And we cried the gathering-cry, + And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, + And we swore to do or die! + Then our leader rode before us, + On his war-horse black as night-- + Well the Cameronian rebels + Knew that charger in the fight!-- + And a cry of exultation + From the bearded warrior rose; + For we loved the house of Claver'se, + And we thought of good Montrose. + But he raised his hand for silence-- + "Soldiers! I have sworn a vow; + Ere the evening star shall glisten + On Schehallion's lofty brow, + Either we shall rest in triumph, + Or another of the Graemes + Shall have died in battle-harness + For his country and King James! + Think upon the royal martyr-- + Think of what his race endure-- + Think on him whom butchers murdered + On the field of Magus Muir[1]: + By his sacred blood I charge ye, + By the ruined hearth and shrine-- + By the blighted hopes of Scotland, + By your injuries and mine-- + Strike this day as if the anvil + Lay beneath your blows the while, + Be they Covenanting traitors, + Or the blood of false Argyle! + Strike! and drive the trembling rebels + Backwards o'er the stormy Forth; + Let them tell their pale Convention + How they fared within the North. + Let them tell that Highland honor + Is not to be bought nor sold; + That we scorn their prince's anger, + As we loathe his foreign gold. + Strike! and when the fight is over, + If you look in vain for me, + Where the dead are lying thickest + Search for him that was Dundee!" + + [Footnote 1: Archbishop Sharp, Lord Primate of Scotland.] + + + + III + + Loudly then the hills re-echoed + With our answer to his call, + But a deeper echo sounded + In the bosoms of us all. + For the lands of wide Breadalbane, + Not a man who heard him speak + Would that day have left the battle. + Burning eye and flushing cheek + Told the clansmen's fierce emotion, + And they harder drew their breath; + For their souls were strong within them, + Stronger than the grasp of Death. + Soon we heard a challenge trumpet + Sounding in the Pass below, + And the distant tramp of horses, + And the voices of the foe; + Down we crouched amid the bracken, + Till the Lowland ranks drew near, + Panting like the hounds in summer, + When they scent the stately deer. + From the dark defile emerging, + Next we saw the squadrons come, + Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers + Marching to the tuck of drum; + Through the scattered wood of birches, + O'er the broken ground and heath, + Wound the long battalion slowly, + Till they gained the field beneath; + Then we bounded from our covert,-- + Judge how looked the Saxons then, + When they saw the rugged mountain + Start to life with armèd men! + Like a tempest down the ridges + Swept the hurricane of steel, + Rose the slogan of Macdonald-- + Flashed the broadsword of Lochiel! + Vainly sped the withering volley + 'Mongst the foremost of our band-- + On we poured until we met them + Foot to foot and hand to hand. + Horse and man went down like drift-wood + When the floods are black at Yule, + And their carcasses are whirling + In the Garry's deepest pool. + Horse and man went down before us-- + Living foe there tarried none + On the field of Killiecrankie, + When that stubborn fight was done! + + + IV + + And the evening star was shining + On Schehallion's distant head, + When we wiped our bloody broadswords, + And returned to count the dead. + There we found him gashed and gory, + Stretched upon the cumbered plain, + As he told us where to seek him, + In the thickest of the slain. + And a smile was on his visage, + For within his dying ear + Pealed the joyful note of triumph + And the clansmen's clamorous cheer: + So, amidst the battle's thunder, + Shot, and steel, and scorching flame, + In the glory of his manhood + Passed the spirit of the Graeme! + + + V + + Open wide the vaults of Athol, + Where the bones of heroes rest-- + Open wide the hallowed portals + To receive another guest! + Last of Scots, and last of freemen-- + Last of all that dauntless race + Who would rather die unsullied, + Than outlive the land's disgrace! + O thou lion-hearted warrior! + Reck not of the after-time: + Honor may be deemed dishonor, + Loyalty be called a crime. + Sleep in peace with kindred ashes + Of the noble and the true, + Hands that never failed their country, + Hearts that never baseness knew. + Sleep!--and till the latest trumpet + Wakes the dead from earth and sea, + Scotland shall not boast a braver + Chieftain than our own Dundee! + + + THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE + + From 'Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers' + + Come hither, Evan Cameron! + Come, stand beside my knee-- + I hear the river roaring down + Toward the wintry sea. + There's shouting on the mountain-side, + There's war within the blast-- + Old faces look upon me, + Old forms go trooping past. + I hear the pibroch wailing + Amidst the din of fight, + And my dim spirit wakes again + Upon the verge of night. + + 'Twas I that led the Highland host + Through wild Lochaber's snows, + What time the plaided clans came down + To battle with Montrose. + I've told thee how the Southrons fell + Beneath the broad claymore, + And how we smote the Campbell clan + By Inverlochy's shore; + I've told thee how we swept Dundee, + And tamed the Lindsays' pride: + But never have I told thee yet + How the great Marquis died. + + A traitor sold him to his foes;-- + A deed of deathless shame! + I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet + With one of Assynt's name,-- + Be it upon the mountain's side + Or yet within the glen, + Stand he in martial gear alone, + Or backed by arméd men,-- + Face him, as thou wouldst face the man + Who wronged thy sire's renown; + Remember of what blood thou art, + And strike the caitiff down! + + They brought him to the Watergate, + Hard bound with hempen span, + As though they held a lion there, + And not a fenceless man. + They set him high upon a cart,-- + The hangman rode below,-- + They drew his hands behind his back + And bared his noble brow. + Then, as a hound is slipped from leash, + They cheered, the common throng, + And blew the note with yell and shout, + And bade him pass along. + + It would have made a brave man's heart + Grow sad and sick that day, + To watch the keen malignant eyes + Bent down on that array. + There stood the Whig West-country lords + In balcony and bow; + There sat their gaunt and withered dames, + And their daughters all arow. + And every open window + Was full as full might be + With black-robed Covenanting carles, + That goodly sport to see! + + But when he came, though pale and wan, + He looked so great and high, + So noble was his manly front, + So calm his steadfast eye,-- + The rabble rout forbore to shout, + And each man held his breath, + For well they knew the hero's soul + Was face to face with death. + And then a mournful shudder + Through all the people crept, + And some that came to scoff at him + Now turned aside and wept. + + But onwards--always onwards, + In silence and in gloom, + The dreary pageant labored, + Till it reached the house of doom. + Then first a woman's voice was heard + In jeer and laughter loud, + And an angry cry and hiss arose + From the heart of the tossing crowd; + Then, as the Graeme looked upwards, + He saw the ugly smile + Of him who sold his king for gold-- + The master-fiend Argyle! + + The Marquis gazed a moment, + And nothing did he say, + But the cheek of Argyle grew ghastly pale, + And he turned his eyes away. + The painted harlot by his side, + She shook through every limb, + For a roar like thunder swept the street, + And hands were clenched at him; + And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, + "Back, coward, from thy place! + For seven long years thou hast not dared + To look him in the face." + + Had I been there with sword in hand, + And fifty Camerons by, + That day through high Dunedin's streets + Had pealed the slogan-cry. + Not all their troops of trampling horse, + Nor might of mailèd men-- + Not all the rebels in the South + Had borne us backward then! + Once more his foot on Highland heath + Had trod as free as air, + Or I, and all who bore my name, + Been laid around him there! + + It might not be. They placed him next + Within the solemn hall, + Where once the Scottish kings were throned + Amidst their nobles all. + But there was dust of vulgar feet + On that polluted floor, + And perjured traitors filled the place + Where good men sate before. + With savage glee came Warriston + To read the murderous doom; + And then uprose the great Montrose + In the middle of the room. + + "Now, by my faith as belted knight, + And by the name I bear, + And by the bright Saint Andrew's cross + That waves above us there,-- + Yea, by a greater, mightier oath-- + And oh, that such should be!--By + that dark stream of royal blood + That lies 'twixt you and me,-- + have not sought in battle-field + A wreath of such renown, + Nor dared I hope on my dying day + To win the martyr's crown. + + "There is a chamber far away + Where sleep the good and brave, + But a better place ye have named for me + Than by my father's grave. + For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might, + This hand hath always striven, + And ye raise it up for a witness still + In the eye of earth and heaven. + Then nail my head on yonder tower-- + Give every town a limb--And + God who made shall gather them: + I go from you to Him!" + + The morning dawned full darkly, + The rain came flashing down, + And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt + Lit up the gloomy town. + The thunder crashed across the heaven, + The fatal hour was come; + Yet aye broke in, with muffled beat, + The larum of the drum. + There was madness on the earth below + And anger in the sky, + And young and old, and rich and poor, + Come forth to see him die. + + Ah, God! that ghastly gibbet! + How dismal 'tis to see + The great tall spectral skeleton, + The ladder and the tree! + Hark! hark! it is the clash of arms-- + The bells begin to toll-- + "He is coming! he is coming! + God's mercy on his soul!" + One long last peal of thunder-- + The clouds are cleared away, + And the glorious sun once more looks down + Amidst the dazzling day. + + "He is coming! he is coming!" + Like a bridegroom from his room, + Came the hero from his prison, + To the scaffold and the doom. + There was glory on his forehead, + There was lustre in his eye, + And he never walked to battle + More proudly than to die; + There was color in his visage, + Though the cheeks of all were wan, + And they marveled as they saw him pass, + That great and goodly man! + + He mounted up the scaffold, + And he turned him to the crowd; + But they dared not trust the people, + So he might not speak aloud. + But looked upon the heavens + And they were clear and blue, + And in the liquid ether + The eye of God shone through: + Yet a black and murky battlement + Lay resting on the hill, + As though the thunder slept within-- + All else was calm and still. + + The grim Geneva ministers + With anxious scowl drew near, + As you have seen the ravens flock + Around the dying deer. + He would not deign them word nor sign, + But alone he bent the knee, + And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace + Beneath the gallows-tree. + Then radiant and serene he rose, + And cast his cloak away; + For he had ta'en his latest look + Of earth and sun and day. + + A beam of light fell o'er him, + Like a glory round the shriven, + And he climbed the lofty ladder + As it were the path to heaven. + Then came a flash from out the cloud, + And a stunning thunder-roll; + And no man dared to look aloft, + For fear was on every soul. + There was another heavy sound, + A hush and then a groan; + And darkness swept across the sky-- + The work of death was done! + + + THE BROKEN PITCHER + + From the 'Bon Gaultier Ballads' + + It was a Moorish maiden was sitting by a well, + And what that maiden thought of, I cannot, cannot tell, + When by there rode a valiant knight, from the town of Oviedo-- + Alphonso Guzman was he hight, the Count of Desparedo. + + "O maiden, Moorish maiden! why sitt'st thou by the spring? + Say, dost thou seek a lover, or any other thing? + Why gazest thou upon me, with eyes so large and wide, + And wherefore doth the pitcher lie broken by thy side?" + + "I do not seek a lover, thou Christian knight so gay, + Because an article like that hath never come my way; + But why I gaze upon you, I cannot, cannot tell, + Except that in your iron hose you look uncommon swell. + + "My pitcher it is broken, and this the reason is-- + A shepherd came behind me, and tried to snatch a kiss; + I would not stand his nonsense, so ne'er a word I spoke, + But scored him on the costard, and so the jug was broke. + + "My uncle, the Alcaydè, he waits for me at home, + And will not take his tumbler until Zorayda come. + I cannot bring him water,--the pitcher is in pieces; + And so I'm sure to catch it, 'cos he wallops all his nieces. + + "O maiden, Moorish maiden! wilt thou be ruled by me? + So wipe thine eyes and rosy lips, and give me kisses three; + And I'll give thee my helmet, thou kind and courteous lady, + To carry home the water to thy uncle, the Alcaydè." + + He lighted down from off his steed--he tied him to a tree-- + He bowed him to the maiden, and took his kisses three: + "To wrong thee, sweet Zorayda, I swear would be a sin!" + He knelt him at the fountain, and dipped his helmet in. + + Up rose the Moorish maiden--behind the knight she steals, + And caught Alphonso Guzman up tightly by the heels; + She tipped him in, and held him down beneath the bubbling water,-- + "Now, take thou that for venturing to kiss Al Hamet's daughter!" + + A Christian maid is weeping in the town of Oviedo; + She waits the coming of her love, the Count of Desparedo. + I pray you all in charity, that you will never tell + How he met the Moorish maiden beside the lonely well. + + + SONNET TO BRITAIN + + "BY THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON" + + Halt! Shoulder arms! Recover! As you were! + Right wheel! Eyes left! Attention! Stand at ease! + O Britain! O my country! Words like these + Have made thy name a terror and a fear + To all the nations. Witness Ebro's banks, + Assaye, Toulouse, Nivelle, and Waterloo, + Where the grim despot muttered, _Sauve qui pent!_ + And Ney fled darkling.--Silence in the ranks! + Inspired by these, amidst the iron crash + Of armies, in the centre of his troop + The soldier stands--unmovable, not rash-- + Until the forces of the foemen droop; + Then knocks the Frenchmen to eternal smash, + Pounding them into mummy. Shoulder, hoop! + + +A BALL IN THE UPPER CIRCLES + +From "The Modern Endymion" + +'Twas a hot season in the skies. Sirius held the ascendant, and under +his influence even the radiant band of the Celestials began to droop, +while the great ball-room of Olympus grew gradually more and more +deserted. For nearly a week had Orpheus, the leader of the heavenly +orchestra, played to a deserted floor. The _élite_ would no longer +figure in the waltz. + +Juno obstinately kept her room, complaining of headache and ill-temper. +Ceres, who had lately joined a dissenting congregation, objected +generally to all frivolous amusements; and Minerva had established, in +opposition, a series of literary soirees, at which Pluto nightly +lectured on the fine arts and phrenology, to a brilliant and fashionable +audience. The Muses, with Hebe and some of the younger deities, alone +frequented the assemblies; but with all their attractions there was +still a sad lack of partners. The younger gods had of late become +remarkably dissipated, messed three times a week at least with Mars in +the barracks, and seldom separated sober. Bacchus had been sent to +Coventry by the ladies, for appearing one night in the ball-room, after +a hard sederunt, so drunk that he measured his length upon the floor +after a vain attempt at a mazurka; and they likewise eschewed the +company of Pan, who had become an abandoned smoker, and always smelt +infamously of cheroots. But the most serious defection, as also the most +unaccountable, was that of the beautiful Diana, _par excellence_ the +belle of the season, and assuredly the most graceful nymph that ever +tripped along the halls of heaven. She had gone off suddenly to the +country, without alleging any intelligible excuse, and with her the last +attraction of the ball-room seemed to have disappeared. Even Venus, the +perpetual lady patroness, saw that the affair was desperate. + +"Ganymede, _mon beau garcon_," said she, one evening at an unusually +thin assembly, "we must really give it up at last. Matters are growing +worse and worse, and in another week we shall positively not have enough +to get up a tolerable gallopade. Look at these seven poor Muses sitting +together on the sofa. Not a soul has spoken to them to-night, except +that horrid Silenus, who dances nothing but Scotch reels." + +"_Pardieu!_" replied the young Trojan, fixing his glass in his eye. +"There may be a reason for that. The girls are decidedly _passées_, and +most inveterate blues. But there's dear little Hebe, who never wants +partners, though that clumsy Hercules insists upon his conjugal rights, +and keeps moving after her like an enormous shadow. 'Pon my soul, I've a +great mind--Do you think, _ma belle tante_, that anything might be done +in that quarter?" + +"Oh fie, Ganymede--fie for shame!" said Flora, who was sitting close to +the Queen of Love, and overheard the conversation. "You horrid, naughty +man, how can you talk so?" + +"_Pardon, ma chère_!" replied the exquisite with a languid smile. "You +must excuse my _badinage_; and indeed, a glance of your fair eyes were +enough at any time to recall me to my senses. By the way, what a +beautiful _bouquet_ you have there. _Parole d'honneur_, I am quite +jealous. May I ask who sent it?" + +"What a goose you are!" said Flora, in evident confusion: "how should I +know? Some general admirer like yourself, I suppose." + +"Apollo is remarkably fond of hyacinths, I believe," said Ganymede, +looking significantly at Venus. "Ah, well! I see how it is. We poor +detrimentals must break our hearts in silence. It is clear we have no +chance with the _preux chevalier_ of heaven." + +"Really, Ganymede, you are very severe this evening," said Venus with a +smile; "but tell me, have you heard anything of Diana?" + +"Ah! _la belle Diane_? They say she is living in the country somewhere +about Caria, at a place they call Latmos Cottage, cultivating her faded +roses--what a color Hebe has!--and studying the sentimental." + +"_Tant pis_! She is a great loss to us," said Venus. "Apropos, you will +be at Neptune's _fête champétre_ to-morrow, _n'est ce pas?_ We shall +then finally determine about abandoning the assemblies. But I must go +home now. The carriage has been waiting this hour, and my doves may +catch cold. I suppose that boy Cupid will not be home till all hours of +the morning." + +"Why, I believe the Rainbow Club _does_ meet to-night, after the +dancing," said Ganymede significantly. "This is the last oyster-night of +the season." + +"Gracious goodness! The boy will be quite tipsy," said Venus. "Do, dear +Ganymede! try to keep him sober. But now, give me your arm to the +cloak-room." + +"_Volontiers_!" said the exquisite. + +As Venus rose to go, there was a rush of persons to the further end of +the room, and the music ceased. Presently, two or three voices were +heard calling for Aesculapius. + +"What's the row?" asked that learned individual, advancing leisurely +from the refreshment table, where he had been cramming himself with tea +and cakes. + +"Leda's fainted!" shrieked Calliope, who rushed past with her +vinaigrette in hand. + +"_Gammon_!" growled the Abernethy of heaven, as he followed her. + +"Poor Leda!" said Venus, as her cavalier adjusted her shawl. "These +fainting fits are decidedly alarming. I hope it is nothing more serious +than the weather." + +"I hope so, too," said Ganymede. "Let me put on the scarf. But people +will talk. Pray heaven it be not a second edition of that old scandal +about the eggs!" + +"_Fi done_! You odious creature! How can you? But after all, stranger +things have happened. There now, have done. Good-night!" and she stepped +into her chariot. + +"_Bon soir_" said the exquisite, kissing his hand as it rolled away. +"'Pon my soul, that's a splendid woman. I've a great mind--but there's +no hurry about that. _Revenons à nos oeufs._ I must learn something more +about this fainting fit." So saying, Ganymede re-ascended the stairs. + + +A HIGHLAND TRAMP + +From "Norman Sinclair" + +When summer came--for in Scotland, alas! there is no spring, winter +rolling itself remorselessly, like a huge polar bear, over what should +be the beds of the early flowers, and crushing them ere they +develop--when summer came, and the trees put on their pale-green +liveries, and the brakes were blue with the wood-hyacinth, and the ferns +unfolded their curl, what ecstasy it was to steal an occasional holiday, +and wander, rod in hand, by some quiet stream up in the moorlands, +inhaling health from every breeze, nor seeking shelter from the gentle +shower as it dropped its manna from the heavens! And then the long +holidays, when the town was utterly deserted--how I enjoyed these, as +they can only be enjoyed by the possess-ors of the double talisman of +strength and youth! No more care--no more trouble--no more task-work--no +thought even of the graver themes suggested by my later studies! +Look--standing on the Calton Hill, behold yon blue range of mountains to +the west--cannot you name each pinnacle from its form? Benledi, +Benvoirlich, Benlomond! Oh, the beautiful land, the elysium that lies +round the base of those distant giants! The forest of Glenfinlas, Loch +Achray with its weeping birches, the grand defiles of the Trosachs, and +Ellen's Isle, the pearl of the one lake that genius has forever +hallowed! Up, sluggard! Place your knapsack on your back; but stow it +not with unnecessary gear, for you have still further to go, and your +rod also must be your companion, if you mean to penetrate the region +beyond. Money? Little money suffices him who travels on foot, who can +bring his own fare to the shepherd's bothy where he is to sleep, and who +sleeps there better and sounder than the tourist who rolls from station +to station in his barouche, grumbling because the hotels are +overcrowded, and miserable about the airing of his sheets. Money? You +would laugh if you heard me mention the sum which has sufficed for my +expenditure during a long summer month; for the pedestrian, humble +though he be, has his own especial privileges, and not the least of +these is that he is exempted from all extortion. Donald--God bless +him!--has a knack of putting on the prices; and when an English family +comes posting up to the door of his inn, clamorously demanding every +sort of accommodation which a metropolitan hotel could afford, grumbling +at the lack of attendance, sneering at the quality of the food, and +turning the whole establishment upside down for their own selfish +gratification, he not unreasonably determines that the extra trouble +shall be paid for in that gold which rarely crosses his fingers except +during the short season when tourists and sportsmen abound. But Donald, +who is descended from the M'Gregor, does not make spoil of the poor. The +sketcher or the angler who come to his door, with the sweat upon their +brow and the dust of the highway or the pollen of the heather on their +feet, meet with a hearty welcome; and though the room in which their +meals are served is but low in the roof, and the floor strewn with sand, +and the attic wherein they lie is garnished with two beds and a +shake-down, yet are the viands wholesome, the sheets clean, and the +tariff so undeniably moderate that even parsimony cannot complain. So up +in the morning early, so soon as the first beams of the sun slant into +the chamber--down to the loch or river, and with a headlong plunge +scrape acquaintance with the pebbles at the bottom; then rising with a +hearty gasp, strike out for the islet or the further bank, to the +astonishment of the otter, who, thief that he is, is skulking back to +his hole below the old saugh-tree, from a midnight foray up the burns. +Huzza! The mallard, dozing among the reeds, has taken fright, and +tucking up his legs under his round fat rump, flies quacking to a +remoter marsh. + + "By the pricking of my thumbs, + Something wicked this way comes," + +and lo! Dugald the keeper, on his way to the hill, is arrested by the +aquatic phenomenon, and half believes that he is witnessing the frolics +of an Urisk! Then make your toilet on the green-sward, swing your +knapsack over your shoulders, and cover ten good miles of road before +you halt before breakfast with more than the appetite of an ogre. + +In this way I made the circuit of well-nigh the whole of the Scottish +Highlands, penetrating as far as Cape Wrath and the wild district of +Edderachylis, nor leaving unvisited the grand scenery of Loch Corruisk, +and the stormy peaks of Skye; and more than one delightful week did I +spend each summer, exploring Gameshope, or the Linns of Talla, where the +Covenanters of old held their gathering; or clambering up the steep +ascent by the Grey Mare's Tail to lonely and lovely Loch Skene, or +casting for trout in the silver waters of St. Mary's. + + + + +MASSIMO TAPARELLI D'AZEGLIO + +(1798-1866) + + +Massimo Taparelli, Marquis d'Azeglio, like his greater colleague and +sometime rival in the Sardinian Ministry, Cavour, wielded a graceful and +forcible pen, and might have won no slight distinction in the peaceful +paths of literature and art as well, had he not been before everything +else a patriot. Of ancient and noble Piedmontese stock, he was born at +Turin in October, 1798. In his fifteenth year the youth accompanied his +father to Rome, where the latter had been appointed ambassador, and thus +early he was inspired with the passion for painting and music which +never left him. In accordance with the paternal wish he entered on a +military career, but soon abandoned the service to devote himself to +art. But after a residence of eight years (1821-29) in the papal +capital, having acquired both skill and fame as a landscape painter, +D'Azeglio began to direct his thoughts to letters and politics. + +After the death of his father in 1830 he settled in Milan, where he +formed the acquaintance of the poet and novelist Alessandro Manzoni, +whose daughter he married, and under whose influence he became deeply +interested in literature, especially in its relation to the political +events of those stirring times. The agitation against Austrian +domination was especially marked in the north of Italy, where Manzoni +had made himself prominent; and so it came to pass that Massimo +d'Azeglio plunged into literature with the ardent hope of stimulating +the national sense of independence and unity. + +In 1833 he published, not without misgivings, 'Ettore Fieramosca,' his +first romance, in which he aimed to teach Italians how to fight for +national honor. The work achieved an immediate and splendid success, and +unquestionably served as a powerful aid to the awakening of Italy's +ancient patriotism. It was followed in 1841 by 'Nicolo de' Lapi,' a +story conceived in similar vein, with somewhat greater pretensions to +literary finish. D'Azeglio now became known as one of the foremost +representatives of the moderate party, and exerted the potent influence +of his voice as well as of his pen in diffusing liberal propaganda. In +1846 he published the bold pamphlet 'Gli Ultimi Casi di Romagna' (On the +Recent Events in Romagna), in which he showed the danger and utter +futility of ill-advised republican outbreaks, and the paramount +necessity of adopting thereafter a wiser and more practical policy to +gain the great end desired. Numerous trenchant political articles issued +from his pen during the next two years. The year 1849 found him a member +of the first Sardinian parliament, and in March of that year Victor +Emmanuel called him to the presidency of the Council with the portfolio +of Foreign Affairs. Obliged to give way three years later before the +rising genius of Cavour, he served his country with distinction on +several important diplomatic missions after the peace of Villafranca, +and died in his native city on the 15th of January, 1866. + +In 1867 appeared D'Azeglio's autobiography, 'I Miei Ricordi,' translated +into English by Count Maffei under title of 'My Recollections' which is +undeniably the most interesting and thoroughly delightful product of his +pen. "He was a 'character,'" said an English critic at the time: "a man +of whims and oddities, of hobbies and crotchets.... This character of +individuality, which impressed its stamp on his whole life, is +charmingly revealed in every sentence of the memoirs which he has left +behind him; so that, more than any of his previous writings, their +mingled homeliness and wit and wisdom justify the epithet which I once +before ventured to give him when I described him as 'the Giusti of +Italian prose.'" As a polemic writer D'Azeglio was recognized as one of +the chief forces in molding public opinion. If he had not been both +patriot and statesman, this versatile genius, as before intimated, would +not improbably have gained an enviable reputation in the realm of art; +and although his few novels are--perhaps with justice--no longer +remembered, they deeply stirred the hearts of his countrymen in their +day, and to say the least are characterized by good sense, facility of +execution, and a refined imaginative power. + + +A HAPPY CHILDHOOD + +From 'My Recollections' + +The distribution of our daily occupations was strictly laid down for +Matilde and me in black and white, and these rules were not to be broken +with impunity. We were thus accustomed to habits of order, and never to +make anybody wait for our convenience; a fault which is one of the most +troublesome that can be committed either by great people or small. + +I remember one day that Matilde, having gone out with Teresa, came home +when we had been at dinner some time. It was winter, and snow was +falling. The two culprits sat down a little confused, and their soup was +brought them in two plates, which had been kept hot; but can you guess +where? On the balcony; so that the contents were not only below +freezing-point, but actually had a thick covering of snow! + +At dinner, of course my sister and I sat perfectly silent, waiting our +turn, without right of petition or remonstrance. As to the other +proprieties of behavior, such as neatness, and not being noisy or +boisterous, we knew well that the slightest infraction would have +entailed banishment for the rest of the day at least. Our great anxiety +was to eclipse ourselves as much as possible; and I assure you that +under this system we never fancied ourselves the central points of +importance round which all the rest of the world was to revolve,--an +idea which, thanks to absurd indulgence and flattery, is often forcibly +thrust, I may say, into poor little brains, which if left to themselves +would never have lost their natural simplicity. + +The lessons of 'Galateo' were not enforced at dinner only. Even at other +times we were forbidden to raise our voices or interrupt the +conversation of our elders, still more to quarrel with each other. If +sometimes as we went to dinner I rushed forward before Matilde, my +father would take me by the arm and make me come last, saying, "There is +no need to be uncivil because she is your sister." The old generation in +many parts of Italy have the habit of shouting and raising their voices +as if their interlocutor were deaf, interrupting him as if he had no +right to speak, and poking him in the ribs and otherwise, as if he could +only be convinced by sensations of bodily pain. The regulations observed +in my family were therefore by no means superfluous; and would to +Heaven they were universally adopted as the law of the land! + +On another occasion my excellent mother gave me a lesson of humility, +which I shall never forget any more than the place where I received it. + +In the open part of the Cascine, which was once used as a race-course, +to the right of the space where the carriages stand, there is a walk +alongside the wood. I was walking there one day with my mother, followed +by an old servant, a countryman of Pylades; less heroic than the latter, +but a very good fellow too. I forget why, but I raised a little cane I +had in my hand, and I am afraid I struck him. My mother, before all the +passers-by, obliged me to kneel down and beg his pardon. I can still see +poor Giacolin taking off his hat with a face of utter bewilderment, +quite unable to comprehend how it was that the Chevalier Massimo +Taparelli d'Azeglio came to be at his feet. + +An indifference to bodily pain was another of the precepts most +carefully instilled by our father; and as usual, the lesson was made +more impressive by example whenever an opportunity presented itself. If, +for instance, we complained of any slight pain or accident, our father +used to say, half in fun, half in earnest, "When a Piedmontese has both +his arms and legs broken, and has received two sword-thrusts in the +body, he may be allowed to say, but not till then, 'Really, I almost +think I am not quite well.'" + +The moral authority he had acquired over me was so great that in no case +would I have disobeyed him, even had he ordered me to jump out +of window. + +I recollect that when my first tooth was drawn, I was in an agony of +fright as we went to the dentist; but outwardly I was brave enough, and +tried to seem as indifferent as possible. On another occasion my +childish courage and also my father's firmness were put to a more +serious test. He had hired a house called the Villa Billi, which stands +about half a mile from San Domenico di Fiesole, on the right winding up +toward the hill. Only two years ago I visited the place, and found the +same family of peasants still there, and my two old playmates, Nando and +Sandro,--who had both become even greater fogies than myself,--and we +had a hearty chat together about bygone times. + +Whilst living at this villa, our father was accustomed to take us out +for long walks, which were the subject of special regulations. We were +strictly forbidden to ask, "Have we far to go?"--"What time is it?" or +to say, "I am thirsty; I am hungry; I am tired:" but in everything else +we had full liberty of speech and action. Returning from one of these +excursions, we one day found ourselves below Castel di Poggio, a rugged +stony path leading towards Vincigliata. In one hand I had a nosegay of +wild flowers, gathered by the way, and in the other a stick, when I +happened to stumble, and fell awkwardly. My father sprang forward to +pick me up, and seeing that one arm pained me, he examined it and found +that in fact the bone was broken below the elbow. All this time my eyes +were fixed upon him, and I could see his countenance change, and assume +such an expression of tenderness and anxiety that he no longer appeared +to be the same man. He bound up my arm as well as he could, and we then +continued our way homewards. After a few moments, during which my father +had resumed his usual calmness, he said to me:-- + +"Listen, Mammolino: your mother is not well. If she knows you are hurt +it will make her worse. You must be brave, my boy: to-morrow morning we +will go to Florence, where all that is needful can be done for you; but +this evening you must not show you are in pain. Do you understand?" + +All this was said with his usual firmness and authority, but also with +the greatest affection. I was only too glad to have so important and +difficult a task intrusted to me. The whole evening I sat quietly in a +corner, supporting my poor little broken arm as best I could, and my +mother only thought me tired by the long walk, and had no suspicion of +the truth. + +The next day I was taken to Florence, and my arm was set; but to +complete the cure I had to be sent to the Baths of Vinadio a few years +afterward. Some people may, in this instance, think my father was cruel. +I remember the fact as if it were but yesterday, and I am sure such an +idea never for one minute entered my mind. The expression of ineffable +tenderness which I had read in his eyes had so delighted me, it seemed +so reasonable to avoid alarming my mother, that I looked on the hard +task allotted me as a fine opportunity of displaying my courage. I did +so because I had not been spoilt, and good principles had been early +implanted within me: and now that I am an old man and have known the +world, I bless the severity of my father; and I could wish every Italian +child might have one like him, and derive more profit than I did,--in +thirty years' time Italy would then be the first of nations. + +Moreover, it is a fact that children are much more observant than is +commonly supposed, and never regard as hostile a just but affectionate +severity. I have always seen them disposed to prefer persons who keep +them in order to those who constantly yield to their caprices; and +soldiers are just the same in this respect. + +The following is another example to prove that my father did not deserve +to be called cruel:-- + +He thought it a bad practice to awaken children suddenly, or to let +their sleep be abruptly disturbed. If we had to rise early for a +journey, he would come to my bedside and softly hum a popular song, two +lines of which still ring in my ears:-- + + "Chi vuol veder l'aurora + Lasci le molli plume." + + (He who the early dawn would view + Downy pillows must eschew.) + +And by gradually raising his voice, he awoke me without the slightest +start. In truth, with all his severity, Heaven knows how I loved him. + + +THE PRIESTHOOD + +From "My Recollections" + +My occupations in Rome were not entirely confined to the domains of +poetry and imagination. It must not be forgotten that I was also a +diplomatist; and in that capacity I had social as well as official +duties to perform. + +The Holy Alliance had accepted the confession and repentance of Murat, +and had granted him absolution; but as the new convert inspired little +confidence, he was closely watched, in the expectation--and perhaps the +hope--of an opportunity of crowning the work by the infliction +of penance. + +The penance intended was to deprive him of his crown and sceptre, and to +turn him out of the pale. Like all the other diplomatists resident in +Rome, we kept our court well informed of all that could be known or +surmised regarding the intentions of the Neapolitan government; and I +had the lively occupation of copying page after page of incomprehensible +cipher for the newborn archives of our legation. Such was my life at +that time; and in spite of the cipher, I soon found it pleasant enough. +Dinner-parties, balls, routs, and fashionable society did not then +inspire me with the holy horror which now keeps me away from them. +Having never before experienced or enjoyed anything of the kind, I was +satisfied. But in the midst of my pleasure, our successor--Marquis San +Saturnino--made his appearance, and we had to prepare for our departure. +One consolation, however, remained. I had just then been appointed to +the high rank of cornet in the crack dragoon regiment "Royal Piedmont." +I had never seen its uniform, but I cherished a vague hope of being +destined by Fortune to wear a helmet; and the prospect of realizing this +splendid dream of my infancy prevented me from regretting my Roman +acquaintances overmuch. + +The Society of Jesus had meanwhile been restored, and my brother was on +the eve of taking the vows. He availed himself of the last days left him +before that ceremony to sit for his portrait to the painter Landi. This +is one of that artist's best works, who, poor man, cannot boast of many; +and it now belongs to my nephew Emanuel. + +The day of the ceremony at length arrived, and I accompanied my brother +to the Convent of Monte Cavallo, where it was to take place. + +The Jesuits at that time were all greatly rejoicing at the revival of +their order; and as may be inferred, they were mostly old men, with only +a few young novices among them. + +We entered an oratory fragrant with the flowers adorning the altar, full +of silver ornaments, holy images, and burning wax-lights, with +half-closed windows and carefully drawn blinds; for it is a certain, +although unexplained, fact that men are more devout in the dark than in +the light, at night than in the day-time, and with their eyes closed +rather than open. We were received by the General of the order, Father +Panizzoni, a little old man bent double with age, his eyes encircled +with red, half blind, and I believe almost in his dotage. He was +shedding tears of joy, and we all maintained the pious and serious +aspect suited to the occasion, until the time arrived for the novice to +step forward, when, lo! Father Panizzoni advanced with open arms toward +the place where I stood, mistaking me for my brother; a blunder which +for a moment imperiled the solemnity of the assembly. + +Had I yielded to the embrace of Father Panizzoni, it would have been a +wonderful bargain both for him and me. But this was not the only +invitation I then received to enter upon a sacerdotal career. Monsignor +Morozzo, my great-uncle and god-father, then secretary to the bishops +and regular monks, one day proposed that I should enter the +Ecclesiastical Academy, and follow the career of the prelacy under his +patronage. The idea seemed so absurd that I could not help laughing +heartily, and the subject was never revived. + +Had I accepted these overtures, I might in the lapse of time have long +since been a cardinal, and perhaps even Pope. And if so, I should have +drawn the world after me, as the shepherd entices a lamb with a lump of +salt. It was very wrong in me to refuse. Doubtless the habit of +expressing my opinion to every one, and on all occasions, would have led +me into many difficulties. I must either have greatly changed, or a very +few years would have seen an end of me. + +We left Rome at last, in the middle of winter, in an open carriage, and +traveling chiefly by night, as was my father's habit. While the horses +are trotting on, I will sum up the impressions of Rome and the Roman +world which I was carrying away. The clearest idea present to my mind +was that the priests of Rome and their religion had very little in +common with my father and Don Andreis, or with the religion professed by +them and by the priests and the devout laity of Turin. I had not been +able to detect the slightest trace of that which in the language of +asceticism is called unction. I know not why, but that grave and +downcast aspect, enlivened only by a few occasional flashes of ponderous +clerical wit, the atmosphere depressing as the _plumbeus auster_ of +Horace, in which I had been brought up under the rule of my priest,--all +seemed unknown at Rome. There I never met with a monsignore or a priest +who did not step out with a pert and jaunty air, his head erect, showing +off a well-made leg, and daintily attired in the garb of a clerical +dandy. Their conversation turned upon every possible subject, and +sometimes upon _quibusdam aliis_, to such a degree that it was evident +my father was perpetually on thorns. I remember a certain prelate, whom +I will not name, and whose conduct was, I believe, sufficiently free and +easy, who at a dinner-party at a villa near Porta Pia related laughingly +some matrimonial anecdotes, which I at that time did not fully +understand. And I remember also my poor father's manifest distress, and +his strenuous endeavors to change the conversation and direct it into a +different channel. + +The prelates and priests whom I used to meet in less orthodox companies +than those frequented by my father seemed to me still more free and +easy. Either in the present or in the past, in theory or in practice, +with more or less or even no concealment, they all alike were sailing or +had sailed on the sweet _fleuve du tendre_. For instance, I met one old +canon bound to a venerable dame by a tie of many years' standing. I also +met a young prelate with a pink-and-white complexion and eyes expressive +of anything but holiness; he was a desperate votary of the fair sex, and +swaggered about paying his homage right and left. Will it be believed, +this gay apostle actually told me, without circumlocution, that in the +monastery of Tor di Specchi there dwelt a young lady who was in love +with me? I, who of course desired no better, took the hint instantly, +and had her pointed out to me. Then began an interchange of silly +messages, of languishing looks, and a hundred absurdities of the same +kind; all cut short by the pair of post-horses which carried us out of +the Porta del Popolo.... + +The opinions of my father respecting the clergy and the Court of Rome +were certainly narrow and prejudiced; but with his good sense it was +impossible for him not to perceive what was manifest even to a blind +man. During our journey he kept insinuating (without appearing, however, +to attach much importance to it) that it was always advisable to speak +with proper respect of a country where we had been well received, even +if we had noticed a great many abuses and disorders. To a certain +extent, this counsel was well worthy of attention. He was doubtless much +grieved at the want of decency apparent in one section of that society, +or, to use a modern expression, at its absence of respectability; but he +consoled himself by thinking, like Abraham the Jew in the 'Decameron,' +that no better proof can be given of the truth of the religion professed +by Rome than the fact of its enduring in such hands. + +This reasoning, however, is not quite conclusive; for if Boccaccio had +had patience to wait another forty years, he would have learnt, first +from John Huss, and then from Luther and his followers, that although in +certain hands things may last a while, it is only till they are worn +out. What Boccaccio and the Jew would say now if they came back, I do +not venture to surmise, + + +MY FIRST VENTURE IN ROMANCE + +From 'My Recollections' + +While striving to acquire a good artistic position in my new residence, +I had still continued to work at my 'Fieramosca,' which was now almost +completed. Letters were at that time represented at Milan by Manzoni, +Grossi, Torti, Pompeo Litta, etc. The memories of the period of Monti, +Parini, Foscolo, Porta, Pellico, Verri, Beccaria, were still fresh; and +however much the living literary and scientific men might be inclined to +lead a secluded life, intrenched in their own houses, with the shyness +of people who disliked much intercourse with the world, yet by a little +tact those who wished for their company could overcome their reserve. As +Manzoni's son-in-law, I found myself naturally brought into contact with +them. I knew them all; but Grossi and I became particularly intimate, +and our close and uninterrupted friendship lasted until the day of his +but too premature death. I longed to show my work to him, and especially +to Manzoni, and ask their advice; but fear this time, not artistic but +literary, had again caught hold of me. Still, a resolve was necessary, +and was taken at last. I disclosed my secret, imploring forbearance and +advice, but no _indulgence_. I wanted the truth, the whole truth, and +nothing but the truth. I preferred the blame of a couple of trusted +friends to that of the public. Both seemed to have expected something a +great deal worse than what they heard, to judge by their startled but +also approving countenances, when my novel was read to them. Manzoni +remarked with a smile, "We literary men have a strange profession +indeed--any one can take it up in a day. Here is Massimo: the whim of +writing a novel seizes him, and upon my word he does not do badly, +after all!" + +This high approbation inspired me with leonine courage, and I set to +work again in earnest, so that in 1833 the work was ready for +publication. On thinking it over now, it strikes me that I was guilty of +great impertinence in thus bringing out and publishing with undaunted +assurance my little novel among all those literary big-wigs; I who had +never done or written anything before. But it was successful; and this +is an answer to every objection. + +The day I carried my bundle of manuscript to San Pietro all' Orto, and, +as Berni expresses it,-- + + "--ritrovato + Un che di stampar opere lavora, + Dissi, Stampami questa alla malora!" + + (--having + Discovered one, a publisher by trade, + 'Print me this book, bad luck to it!' I said.) + +I was in a still greater funk than on the two previous occasions. But I +had yet to experience the worst I ever felt in the whole course of my +life, and that was on the day of publication; when I went out in the +morning, and read my illustrious name placarded in large letters on the +street walls! I felt blinded by a thousand sparks. Now indeed _alea +jacta erat_, and my fleet was burnt to ashes. + +This great fear of the public may, with good-will, be taken for modesty; +but I hold that at bottom it is downright vanity. Of course I am +speaking of people endowed with a sufficient dose of talent and +common-sense; with fools, on the contrary, vanity takes the shape of +impudent self-confidence. Hence all the daily published amount of +nonsense; which would convey a strange idea of us to Europe, if it were +not our good fortune that Italian is not much understood abroad. As +regards our internal affairs, the two excesses are almost equally +noxious. In Parliament, for instance, the first, those of the timidly +vain genus, might give their opinion a little oftener with general +advantage; while if the others, the impudently vain, were not always +brawling, discussions would be more brief and rational, and public +business better and more quickly dispatched. The same reflection applies +to other branches--to journalism, literature, society, etc.; for vanity +is the bad weed which chokes up our political field; and as it is a +plant of hardy growth, blooming among us all the year round, it is just +as well to be on our guard. + +Timid vanity was terribly at work within me the day 'Fieramosca' was +published. For the first twenty-four hours it was impossible to learn +anything; for even the most zealous require at least a day to form some +idea of a book. Next morning, on first going out, I encountered a friend +of mine, a young fellow then and now a man of mature age, who has never +had a suspicion of the cruel blow he unconsciously dealt me. I met him +in Piazza San Fedele, where I lived; and after a few words, he said, "By +the by, I hear you have published a novel. Well done!" and then talked +away about something quite different with the utmost heedlessness. Not a +drop of blood was left in my veins, and I said to myself, "Mercy on me! +I am done for: not even a word is said about my poor 'Fieramosca!'" It +seemed incredible that he, who belonged to a very numerous family, +connected with the best society of the town, should have heard nothing, +if the slightest notice had been taken of it. As he was besides an +excellent fellow and a friend, it seemed equally incredible that if a +word had been said and heard, he should not have repeated it to me. +Therefore, it was a failure; the worst of failures, that of silence. +With a bitter feeling at heart, I hardly knew where I went; but this +feeling soon changed, and the bitterness was superseded by quite an +opposite sensation. + +'Fieramosca' succeeded, and succeeded so well that I felt _abasourdi_, +as the French express it; indeed, I could say "Je n'aurais jamais cru +être si fort savant." My success went on in an increasing ratio: it +passed from the papers and from the masculine half to the feminine half +of society; it found its way to the studios and the stage. I became the +vade-mecum of every prima-donna and tenor, the hidden treat of +school-girls; I penetrated between the pillow and the mattress of +college, boys, of the military academy cadet; and my apotheosis reached +such a height that some newspapers asserted it to be Manzoni's work. It +is superfluous to add that only the ignorant could entertain such an +idea; those who were better informed would never have made such +a blunder. + +My aim, as I said, was to take the initiative in the slow work of the +regeneration of national character. I had no wish but to awaken high and +noble sentiments in Italian hearts; and if all the literary men in the +world had assembled to condemn me in virtue of strict rules, I should +not have cared a jot, if, in defiance of all existing rules, I succeeded +in inflaming the heart of one single individual. And I will also add, +who can say that what causes durable emotion is unorthodox? It may be at +variance with some rules and in harmony with others; and those which +move hearts and captivate intellects do not appear to me to be +the worst. + + + + +BABER + +(1482-1530) + +BY EDWARD S. HOLDEN + + +The emperor Baber was sixth in descent from Tamerlane, who died in 1405. +Tamerlane's conquests were world-wide, but they never formed a +homogeneous empire. Even in his lifetime he parceled them out to sons +and grandsons. Half a century later Trans-oxiana was divided into many +independent kingdoms each governed by a descendant of the great +conqueror. + +When Baber was born (1482), an uncle was King of Samarkand and Bokhara; +another uncle ruled Badakhshan; another was King of Kabul. A relative +was the powerful King of Khorasan. These princes were of the family of +Tamerlane, as was Baber's father,--Sultan Omer Sheikh Mirza, who was the +King of Ferghana. Two of Baber's maternal uncles, descendants of Chengiz +Khan, ruled the Moghul tribes to the west and north of Ferghana; and two +of their sisters had married the Kings of Samarkand and Badakhshan. The +third sister was Baber's mother, wife of the King of Ferghana. + +The capitals of their countries were cities like Samarkand, Bokhara, and +Herat. Tamerlane's grandson--Ulugh Beg--built at Samarkand the chief +astronomical observatory of the world, a century and a half before Tycho +Brahe (1576) erected Uranibourg in Denmark. The town was filled with +noble buildings,--mosques, tombs, and colleges. Its walls were five +miles in circumference[2]. + +[Footnote 2: Paris was walled in 1358; so Froissart tells us.] + +Its streets were paved (the streets of Paris were not paved till the +time of Henri IV.), and running water was distributed in pipes. Its +markets overflowed with fruits. Its cooks and bakers were noted for +their skill. Its colleges were full of learned men, poets[3], and +doctors of the law. The observatory counted more than a hundred +observers and calculators in its corps of astronomers. The products of +China, of India, and of Persia flowed to the bazaars. + +[Footnote 3: "In Samarkand, the Odes of Baiesanghar Mirza are so +popular, that there is not a house in which a copy of them may not be +found."--Baber's. 'Memoirs.'] + +Bokhara has always been the home of learning. Herat was at that time the +most magnificent and refined city of the world[4]. The court was +splendid, polite, intelligent, and liberal. Poetry, history, +philosophy, science, and the arts of painting and music were cultivated +by noblemen and scholars alike. Baber himself was a poet of no mean +rank. The religion was that of Islam, and the sect the orthodox Sunni; +but the practice was less precise than in Arabia. Wine was drunk; poetry +was prized; artists were encouraged. The mother-language of Baber was +Turki (of which the Turkish of Constantinople is a dialect). Arabic was +the language of science and of theology. Persian was the accepted +literary language, though Baber's verses are in Turki as well. + +[Footnote 4: Baber spent twenty days in visiting its various palaces, +towers, mosques, gardens, colleges--and gives a list of more than fifty +such sights.] + +We possess Baber's 'Memoirs' in the original Turki and in Persian +translations also. In what follows, the extracts will be taken from +Erskine's translation[5], which preserves their direct and manly charm. + +[Footnote 5: 'Memoirs of Baber, Emperor of Hindustan, written by +himself, and translated by Leyden and Erskine,' etc. London, +1826, quarto.] + +To understand them, the foregoing slight introduction is necessary. A +connected sketch of Baber's life and a brief history of his conquests +can be found in 'The Mogul Emperors of Hindustan[6].' We are here more +especially concerned with his literary work. To comprehend it, something +of his history and surroundings must be known. + +[Footnote 6: By Edward S. Holden, New York, 1895, 8vo, illustrated.] + + +FROM BABER'S 'MEMOIRS' + +In the month, of Ramzan, in the year 899 [A. D. 1494], and in the +twelfth year of my age, I became King of Ferghana. + +The country of Ferghana is situated in the fifth climate, on the extreme +boundary of the habitable world. On the east it has Kashgar; on the +west, Samarkand; on the south, the hill country; on the north, in former +times there were cities, yet at the present time, in consequence of the +incursions of the Usbeks, no population remains. Ferghana is a country +of small extent, abounding in grain and fruits. The revenues may +suffice, without oppressing the country, to maintain three or four +thousand troops. + +My father, Omer Sheikh Mirza, was of low stature, had a short, bushy +beard, brownish hair, and was very corpulent. As for his opinions and +habits, he was of the sect of Hanifah, and strict in his belief. He +never neglected the five regular and stated prayers. He read elegantly, +and he was particularly fond of reading the 'Shahnameh[7].' Though he +had a turn for poetry, he did not cultivate it. He was so strictly just, +that when the caravan from [China] had once reached the hill country to +the east of Ardejan, and the snow fell so deep as to bury it, so that +of the whole only two persons escaped; he no sooner received information +of the occurrence than he dispatched overseers to take charge of all the +property, and he placed it under guard and preserved it untouched, till +in the course of one or two years, the heirs coming from Khorasan, he +delivered back the goods safe into their hands. His generosity was +large, and so was his whole soul; he was of an excellent temper, +affable, eloquent, and sweet in his conversation, yet brave withal +and manly. + +[Footnote 7: The 'Book of Kings,' by the Persian poet Firdausi.] + +The early portion of Baber's 'Memoirs' is given to portraits of the +officers of his court and country. A few of these may be quoted. + +Khosrou Shah, though a Turk, applied his attention to the mode of +raising his revenues, and he spent them liberally. At the death of +Sultan Mahmud Mirza, he reached the highest pitch of greatness, and his +retainers rose to the number of twenty thousand. Though he prayed +regularly and abstained from forbidden foods, yet he was black-hearted +and vicious, of mean understanding and slender talents, faithless and a +traitor. For the sake of the short and fleeting pomp of this vain world, +he put out the eyes of one and murdered another of the sons of the +benefactor in whose service he had been, and by whom he had been +protected; rendering himself accursed of God, abhorred of men, and +worthy of execration and shame till the day of final retribution. These +crimes he perpetrated merely to secure the enjoyment of some poor +worldly vanities; yet with all the power of his many and populous +territories, in spite of his magazines of warlike stores, he had not the +spirit to face a barnyard chicken. He will often be mentioned in +these memoirs. + +Ali Shir Beg was celebrated for the elegance of his manners; and this +elegance and polish were ascribed to the conscious pride of high +fortune: but this was not the case; they were natural to him. Indeed, +Ali Shir Beg was an incomparable person. From the time that poetry was +first written in the Turki language, no man has written so much and so +well. He has also left excellent pieces of music; they are excellent +both as to the airs themselves and as to the preludes. There is not upon +record in history any man who was a greater patron and protector of men +of talent than he. He had no son nor daughter, nor wife nor family; he +passed through the world single and unincumbered. + +Another poet was Sheikhem Beg. He composed a sort of verses, in which +both the words and the sense are terrifying and correspond with each +other. The following is one of his couplets:-- + + _During my sorrows of the night, the whirlpool of my sighs bears + the firmament from its place; + The dragons of the inundations of my tears bear down the four + quarters of the habitable world_! + +It is well known that on one occasion, having repeated these verses to +Moulana Abdal Rahman Jami, the Mulla said, "Are you repeating poetry, or +are you terrifying folks?" + +A good many men who wrote verses happened to be present. During the +party the following verse of Muhammed Salikh was repeated:-- + + _What can one do to regulate his thoughts, with a mistress possessed + of every blandishment_? + _Where you are, how is it possible for our thoughts to wander to + another_? + +It was agreed that every one should make an extempore couplet to the +same rhyme and measure. Every one accordingly repeated his verse. As we +had been very merry, I repeated the following extempore +satirical verses:-- + + _What can one do with a drunken sot like you? + What can be done with one foolish as a she-ass?_ + +Before this, whatever had come into my head, good or bad, I had always +committed it to writing. On the present occasion, when I had composed +these lines, my mind led me to reflections, and my heart was struck with +regret that a tongue which could repeat the sublimest productions should +bestow any trouble on such unworthy verses; that it was melancholy that +a heart elevated to nobler conceptions should submit to occupy itself +with these meaner and despicable fancies. From that time forward I +religiously abstained from satirical poetry. I had not then formed my +resolution, nor considered how objectionable the practice was. + +TRANSACTIONS OF THE YEAR 904 [A. D. 1498-99] + +Having failed in repeated expeditions against Samarkand and Ardejan, I +once more returned to Khojend. Khojend is but a small place; and it is +difficult for one to support two hundred retainers in it. How then could +a [young] man, ambitious of empire, set himself down contentedly in so +insignificant a place? As soon as I received advice that the garrison of +Ardejan had declared for me, I made no delay. And thus, by the grace of +the Most High, I recovered my paternal kingdom, of which I had been +deprived nearly two years. An order was issued that such as had +accompanied me in my campaigns might resume possession of whatever part +of their property they recognized. Although the order seemed reasonable +and just in itself, yet it was issued with too much precipitation. It +was a senseless thing to exasperate so many men with arms in their +hands. In war and in affairs of state, though things may appear just and +reasonable at first sight, no matter ought to be finally decided without +being well weighed and considered in a hundred different lights. From my +issuing this single order without sufficient foresight, what commotions +and mutinies arose! This inconsiderate order of mine was in reality the +ultimate cause of my being a second time expelled from Ardejan. + + * * * * * + +Baber's next campaign was most arduous, but in passing by a spring he +had the leisure to have these verses of Saadi inscribed on its brink:-- + + _I have heard that the exalted Jemshid + Inscribed on a stone beside a fountain:-- + "Many a man like us has rested by this fountain, + And disappeared in the twinkling of an eye. + Should we conquer the whole world by our manhood and strength, + Yet could we not carry it with us to the grave."_ + +Of another fountain he says:--"I directed this fountain to be built +round with stone, and formed a cistern. At the time when the _Arghwan_ +flowers begin to blow, I do not know that any place in the world is to +be compared to it." On its sides he engraved these verses:-- + + _Sweet is the return of the new year; + Sweet is the smiling spring; + Sweet is the juice of the mellow grape; + Sweeter far the voice of love. + Strive, O Baber! to secure the joys of life, + Which, alas! once departed, never more return._ + +From these flowers Baber and his army marched into the passes of the +high mountains. + +His narrative goes on:-- + +It was at this time that I composed the following verses:-- + + _There is no violence or injury of fortune that I have not + experienced; + This broken heart has endured them all. Alas! is there one left + that I have not encountered_? + +For about a week we continued pressing down the snow without being able +to advance more than two or three miles. I myself assisted in trampling +down the snow. Every step we sank up to the middle or the breast, but we +still went on, trampling it down. As the strength of the person who went +first was generally exhausted after he had advanced a few paces, he +stood still, while another took his place. The ten, fifteen, or twenty +people who worked in trampling down the snow, next succeeded in dragging +on a horse without a rider. Drawing this horse aside, we brought on +another, and in this way ten, fifteen, or twenty of us contrived to +bring forward the horses of all our number. The rest of the troops, even +our best men, advanced along the road that had been beaten for them, +hanging their heads. This was no time for plaguing them or employing +authority. Every man who possesses spirit or emulation hastens to such +works of himself. Continuing to advance by a track which we beat in the +snow in this manner, we reached a cave at the foot of the Zirrin pass. +That day the storm of wind was dreadful. The snow fell in such +quantities that we all expected to meet death together. The cave seemed +to be small. I took a hoe and made for myself at the mouth of the cave a +resting-place about the size of a prayer-carpet. I dug down in the snow +as deep as my breast, and yet did not reach the ground. This hole +afforded me some shelter from the wind, and I sat down in it. Some +desired me to go into the cavern, but I would not go. I felt that for me +to be in a warm dwelling, while my men were in the, midst of snow and +drift,--for me to be within, enjoying sleep and ease, while my followers +were in trouble and distress,--would be inconsistent with what I owed +them, and a deviation from that society in suffering which was their +due. I continued, therefore, to sit in the drift. + + _Ambition admits not of inaction; + The world is his who exerts himself; + In wisdom's eye, every condition + May find repose save royalty alone._ + +By leadership like this, the descendant of Tamerlane became the ruler of +Kabul. He celebrates its charms in verse:-- + + _Its verdure and flowers render Kabul, in spring, a heaven._-- + +but this kingdom was too small for a man of Baber's stamp. He used it as +a stepping-stone to the conquest of India (1526). + + _Return a hundred thanks, O Baber! for the bounty of the merciful God + Has given you Sind, Hind, and numerous kingdoms; + If, unable to stand the heat, you long for cold, + You have only to recollect the frost and cold of Ghazni._ + +In spite of these verses, Baber did not love India, and his monarchy was +an exile to him. Let the last extract from his memoirs be a part of a +letter written in 1529 to an old and trusted friend in Kabul. It is an +outpouring of the griefs of his inmost heart to his friend. He says:-- + + My solicitude to visit my western dominions (Kabul) is + boundless and great beyond expression. I trust in Almighty + Allah that the time is near at hand when everything will be + completely settled in this country. As soon as matters are + brought to that state, I shall, with the permission of Allah, + set out for your quarters without a moment's delay. How is it + possible that the delights of those lands should ever be + erased from the heart? How is it possible to forget the + delicious melons and grapes of that pleasant region? They + very recently brought me a single muskmelon from Kabul. While + cutting it up, I felt myself affected with a strong feeling + of loneliness and a sense of my exile from my native country, + and I could not help shedding tears. [He gives long + instructions on the military and political matters to be + attended to, and continues without a break:--] At the + southwest of Besteh I formed a plantation of trees; and as + the prospect from it was very fine, I called it Nazergah [the + view]. You must there plant some beautiful trees, and all + around sow beautiful and sweet-smelling flowers and shrubs. + [And he goes straight on:--] Syed Kasim will accompany the + artillery. [After more details of the government he quotes + fondly a little trivial incident of former days and friends, + and says:--] Do not think amiss of me for deviating into + + The 'Memoirs' of Baber deserve a place beside the writings of + the greatest of generals and conquerors. He is not unworthy + to be classed with Caesar as a general and as a man of + letters. His character was more human, more frank, more + lovable, more ardent. His fellow in our western world is not + Caesar, but Henri IV. of France and Navarre. + +[Illustration: Signature: Edward S. Holden] + + + + +BABRIUS + +(First Century A.D.) + + + Babrius, also referred to as Babrias and Gabrias, was the + writer of that metrical version of the folk-fables, commonly + referred to Aesop, which delights our childhood. Until the + time of Richard Bentley he was commonly thought of merely as + a fabulist whose remains had been preserved by a few + grammarians. Bentley, in the first draft (1697) of the part + of his famous 'Dissertation' treating of the fables of Aesop, + speaks thus of Babrius, and goes not far out of his way to + give a rap at Planudes, a late Greek, who turned works of + Ovid, Cato, and Caesar into Greek:-- + + "... came one Babrius, that gave a new turn of the fables + into choliambics. Nobody that I know of mentions him but + Suidas, Avienus, and Tzetzes. There's one Gabrias, indeed, + yet extant, that has comprised each fable in four sorry + iambics. But our Babrius is a writer of another size and + quality; and were his book now extant, it might justly be + opposed, if not preferred, to the Latin of Phaedrus. There's + a whole fable of his yet preserved at the end of Gabrias, of + 'The Swallow and the Nightingale.' Suidas brings many + citations out of him, all which show him an excellent + poet.... There are two parcels of the present fables; the + one, which are the more ancient, one hundred and thirty-six + in number, were first published out of the Heidelberg Library + by Neveletus, 1610. The editor himself well observed that + they were falsely ascribed to Aesop, because they mention + holy monks. To which I will add another remark,--that there + is a sentence out of Job.... Thus I have proved one-half of + the fables now extant that carry the name of Aesop to be + above a thousand years more recent than he. And the other + half, that were public before Neveletus, will be found yet + more modern, and the latest of all.... This collection, + therefore, is more recent than that other; and, coming first + abroad with Aesop's 'Life,' written by Planudes, 'tis justly + believed to be owing to the same writer. That idiot of a monk + has given us a book which he calls 'The Life of Aesop,' that + perhaps cannot be matched in any language for ignorance and + nonsense. He had picked up two or three true stories,--that + Aesop was a slave to a Xanthus, carried a burthen of bread, + conversed with Croesus, and was put to death at Delphi; but + the circumstances of these and all his other tales are pure + invention.... But of all his injuries to Aesop, that which + can least be forgiven him is the making such a monster of him + for ugliness,--an abuse that has found credit so universally + that all the modern painters since the time of Planudes have + drawn him in the worst shapes and features that fancy could + invent. 'Twas an old tradition among the Greeks that Aesop + revived again and lived a second life. Should he revive once + more and see the picture before the book that carries his + name, could he think it drawn for himself?--or for the + monkey, or some strange beast introduced in the 'Fables'? But + what revelation had this monk about Aesop's deformity? For he + must have it by dream or vision, and not by ordinary methods + of knowledge. He lived about two thousand years after him, + and in all that tract of time there's not a single author + that has given the least hint that Aesop was ugly." + +Thus Bentley; but to return to Babrius. Tyrwhitt, in 1776, followed this +calculation of Bentley by collecting the remains of Babrius. A +publication in 1809 of fables from a Florentine manuscript foreran the +collection (1832) of all the fables which could be entirely restored. In +1835 a German scholar, Knoch, published whatever had up to that time +been written on Babrius, or as far as then known by him. So much had +been accomplished by modern scholarship. The calculation was not unlike +the mathematical computation that a star should, from an apparent +disturbance, be in a certain quarter of the heavens at a certain time. +The manuscript of Babrius, it became clear, must have existed. In 1842 +M. Mynas, a Greek, who had already discovered the 'Philosophoumena' of +Hippolytus, came upon the parchment in the convent of St. Lama on Mount +Athos. He was employed by the French government, and the duty of giving +the new ancient to the world fell to French scholars. The date of the +manuscript they referred to the tenth century. There were contained in +it one hundred and twenty-three of the supposed one hundred and sixty +fables, the arrangement being alphabetical and ending with the letter O. +Again, in 1857 M. Mynas announced another discovery. Ninety-four fables +and a prooemium were still in a convent at Mount Athos; but the monks, +who made difficulty about parting with the first parchment, refused to +let the second go abroad. M. Mynas forwarded a transcript which he sold +to the British Museum. It was after examination pronounced to be the +work of a forger, and not even what it purported to be--the tinkering of +a writer who had turned the original of Babrius into barbarous Greek +and halting metre. Suggestions were made that the forger was Mynas +himself. And there were scholars who accounted the manuscript +as genuine. + +The discovery of the first part added substantially to the remains which +we have of the poetry of ancient Greece. The terseness, simplicity, and +humor of the poems belong to the popular classic all the world over, in +whatever tongue it appears; and the purity of the Greek shows that +Babrius lived at a time when the influence of the classical age was +still vital. He is placed at various times. Bergk fixes him so far back +as B.C. 250, while others place him at the same number of years in our +own era. Both French and German criticism has claimed that he was a +Roman. There is no trace of his fables earlier than the Emperor Julian, +and no metrical version of the Aesopean fables existed before the +writing of Babrius. Socrates tried his hand at a version or two. But +when such Greek writers as Xenophon and Aristotle refer to old +folk-tales and legends, it is always in their own words. His fables are +written in choliambic verse; that is, imperfect iambic which has a +spondee in the last foot and is fitted for the satire for which it was +originally used. + +The fables of Babrius have been edited, with an interesting and valuable +introduction, by W.G. Rutherford (1883), and by F.G. Schneidewin (1880). +They have been turned into English metre by James Davies, M.A. (1860). +The reader is also referred to the article 'Aesop' in the present work. + + + THE NORTH WIND AND THE SUN + + Betwixt the North wind and the Sun arose + A contest, which would soonest of his clothes + Strip a wayfaring clown, so runs the tale. + First, Boreas blows an almost Thracian gale, + Thinking, perforce, to steal the man's capote: + He loosed it not; but as the cold wind smote + More sharply, tighter round him drew the folds, + And sheltered by a crag his station holds. + But now the Sun at first peered gently forth, + And thawed the chills of the uncanny North; + Then in their turn his beams more amply plied, + Till sudden heat the clown's endurance tried; + Stripping himself, away his cloak he flung: + The Sun from Boreas thus a triumph wrung. + + The fable means, "My son, at mildness aim: + Persuasion more results than force may claim." + + + JUPITER AND THE MONKEY + + A baby-show with prizes Jove decreed + For all the beasts, and gave the choice due heed. + A monkey-mother came among the rest; + A naked, snub-nosed pug upon her breast + She bore, in mother's fashion. At the sight + Assembled gods were moved to laugh outright. + Said she, "Jove knoweth where his prize will fall! + I know my child's the beauty of them all." + + This fable will a general law attest, + That each one deems that what's his own, is best. + + + THE MOUSE THAT FELL INTO THE POT + + A mouse into a lidless broth-pot fell; + Choked with the grease, and bidding life farewell, + He said, "My fill of meat and drink have I + And all good things: 'Tis time that I should die." + + Thou art that dainty mouse among mankind, + If hurtful sweets are not by thee declined. + + + THE FOX AND THE GRAPES + + There hung some bunches of the purple grape + On a hillside. A cunning fox, agape + For these full clusters, many times essayed + To cull their dark bloom, many vain leaps made. + They were quite ripe, and for the vintage fit; + But when his leaps did not avail a whit, + He journeyed on, and thus his grief composed:-- + "The bunch was sour, not ripe, as I supposed." + + + THE CARTER AND HERCULES + + A carter from the village drove his wain: + And when it fell into a rugged lane, + Inactive stood, nor lent a helping hand; + But to that god, whom of the heavenly band + He really honored most, Alcides, prayed: + "Push at your wheels," the god appearing said, + "And goad your team; but when you pray again, + Help yourself likewise, or you'll pray in vain." + + + THE YOUNG COCKS + + Two Tanagraean cocks a fight began; + Their spirit is, 'tis said, as that of man: + Of these the beaten bird, a mass of blows, + For shame into a corner creeping goes; + The other to the housetop quickly flew, + And there in triumph flapped his wings and crew. + But him an eagle lifted from the roof, + And bore away. His fellow gained a proof + That oft the wages of defeat are best,-- + None else remained the hens to interest. + + WHEREFORE, O man, beware of boastfulness: + Should fortune lift thee, others to depress, + Many are saved by lack of her caress. + + + THE ARAB AND THE CAMEL + + An Arab, having heaped his camel's back, + Asked if he chose to take the upward track + Or downward; and the beast had sense to say + "Am I cut off then from the level way?" + + + THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE SWALLOW + + Far from men's fields the swallow forth had flown, + When she espied amid the woodlands lone + The nightingale, sweet songstress. Her lament + Was Itys to his doom untimely sent. + Each knew the other through the mournful strain, + Flew to embrace, and in sweet talk remain. + Then said the swallow, "Dearest, liv'st thou still? + Ne'er have I seen thee, since thy Thracian ill. + Some cruel fate hath ever come between; + Our virgin lives till now apart have been. + Come to the fields; revisit homes of men; + Come dwell with me, a comrade dear, again, + Where thou shalt charm the swains, no savage brood: + Dwell near men's haunts, and quit the open wood: + One roof, one chamber, sure, can house the two, + Or dost prefer the nightly frozen dew, + And day-god's heat? a wild-wood life and drear? + Come, clever songstress, to the light more near." + To whom the sweet-voiced nightingale replied:-- + "Still on these lonesome ridges let me bide; + Nor seek to part me from the mountain glen:-- + I shun, since Athens, man, and haunts of men; + To mix with them, their dwelling-place to view, + Stirs up old grief, and opens woes anew." + + Some consolation for an evil lot + Lies in wise words, in song, in crowds forgot. + But sore the pang, when, where you once were great, + Again men see you, housed in mean estate. + + + THE HUSBANDMAN AND THE STORK + + Thin nets a farmer o'er his furrows spread, + And caught the cranes that on his tillage fed; + And him a limping stork began to pray, + Who fell with them into the farmer's way:-- + "I am no crane: I don't consume the grain: + That I'm a stork is from my color plain; + A stork, than which no better bird doth live; + I to my father aid and succor give." + The man replied:--"Good stork, I cannot tell + Your way of life: but this I know full well, + I caught you with the spoilers of my seed; + With them, with whom I found you, you must bleed." + + Walk with the bad, and hate will be as strong + 'Gainst you as them, e'en though you no man wrong. + + + THE PINE + + Some woodmen, bent a forest pine to split, + Into each fissure sundry wedges fit, + To keep the void and render work more light. + Out groaned the pine, "Why should I vent my spite + Against the axe which never touched my root, + So much as these cursed wedges, mine own fruit; + Which rend me through, inserted here and there!" + + A fable this, intended to declare + That not so dreadful is a stranger's blow + As wrongs which men receive from those they know. + + + THE WOMAN AND HER MAID-SERVANTS + + A very careful dame, of busy way, + Kept maids at home, and these, ere break of day, + She used to raise as early as cock-crow. + They thought 'twas hard to be awakened so, + And o'er wool-spinning be at work so long; + Hence grew within them all a purpose strong + To kill the house-cock, whom they thought to blame + For all their wrongs. But no advantage came; + Worse treatment than the former them befell: + For when the hour their mistress could not tell + At which by night the cock was wont to crow, + She roused them earlier, to their work to go. + A harder lot the wretched maids endured. + + Bad judgment oft hath such results procured. + + + THE LAMP + + A lamp that swam with oil, began to boast + At eve, that it outshone the starry host, + And gave more light to all. Her boast was heard: + Soon the wind whistled; soon the breezes stirred, + And quenched its light. A man rekindled it, + And said, "Brief is the faint lamp's boasting fit, + But the starlight ne'er needs to be re-lit." + + + THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE + + To the shy hare the tortoise smiling spoke, + When he about her feet began to joke: + "I'll pass thee by, though fleeter than the gale." + "Pooh!" said the hare, "I don't believe thy tale. + Try but one course, and thou my speed shalt know." + "Who'll fix the prize, and whither we shall go?" + Of the fleet-footed hare the tortoise asked. + To whom he answered, "Reynard shall be tasked + With this; that subtle fox, whom thou dost see." + The tortoise then (no hesitater she!) + Kept jogging on, but earliest reached the post; + The hare, relying on his fleetness, lost + Space, during sleep, he thought he could recover + When he awoke. But then the race was over; + The tortoise gained her aim, and slept _her_ sleep. + + From negligence doth care the vantage reap. + + + + +FRANCIS BACON + +(1561-1626) + +BY CHARLTON T. LEWIS + + +The startling contrasts of splendor and humiliation which marked the +life of Bacon, and the seemingly incredible inconsistencies which hasty +observers find in his character, have been the themes of much rhetorical +declamation, and even of serious and learned debate. From Ben Jonson in +his own day, to James Spedding the friend of Tennyson, he has not lacked +eminent eulogists, who look up to him as not only the greatest and +wisest, but as among the noblest and most worthy of mankind: while the +famous epigram of Pope, expanded by Macaulay into a stately and eloquent +essay, has impressed on the popular mind the lowest estimate of his +moral nature; and even such careful scholars as Charles de Rémusat and +Dean Church, who have devoted careful and instructive volumes to the +survey of Bacon's career and works, insist that with all his +intellectual supremacy, he was a servile courtier, a false friend, and a +corrupt judge. Yet there are few important names in human history of men +who have left us so complete materials for a just judgment of their +conduct; and it is only a lover of paradox who can read these and still +regard Bacon's character as an unsolved problem. + +Mr. Spedding has given a long life of intelligent labor to the +collection of every fact and document throwing light upon the motives, +aims, and thoughts of the great "Chancellor of Nature," from the cradle +to the grave. The results are before us in the seven volumes of 'The +Letters and the Life of Francis Bacon,' which form perhaps the most +complete biography ever written. It is a book of absolute candor as well +as infinite research, giving with equal distinctness all the evidence +which makes for its hero's dishonor and that which tends to justify the +writer's reverence for him. Another work by Mr. Spedding, 'Evenings with +a Reviewer,' in two volumes, is an elaborate refutation, from the +original and authentic records, of the most damning charges brought by +Lord Macaulay against Bacon's good fame. It is a complete and +overwhelming exposure of false coloring, of rhetorical artifices, and of +the abuse of evidence, in the famous essay. As one of the most +entertaining and instructive pieces of controversy in our literature, it +deserves to be widely read. The unbiased reader cannot accept the +special pleading by which, in his comments, Spedding makes every failing +of Bacon "lean to virtue's side"; but will form upon the unquestioned +facts presented a clear conception of him, will come to know him as no +other man of an age so remote is known, and will find in his many-sided +and magnificent nature a full explanation of the impressions which +partial views of it have made upon his worshipers and his detractors. + +It is only in his maturity, indeed, that we are privileged to enter into +his mind and read his heart. But enough is known of the formative period +of his life to show us the sources of his weaknesses and of his +strength. The child whom high authorities have regarded as endowed with +the mightiest intellect of the human race was born at York House, on the +Strand, in the third year of Elizabeth's reign, January 22d, 1561. He +was the son of the Queen's Lord Keeper of the Seals, Sir Nicholas Bacon, +and his second wife Anne, daughter of Sir Anthony Cook, formerly tutor +of King Edward VI. Mildred, an elder daughter of the same scholar, was +the wife of William Cecil, Lord Burghley, who for the first forty years +of her reign was Elizabeth's chief minister. As a child Bacon was a +favorite at court, and tradition represents him as something of a pet of +the Queen, who called him "my young Lord Keeper." His mother was among +the most learned women of an age when, among women of rank, great +learning was as common and as highly prized as great beauty; and her +influence was a potent intellectual stimulus to the boy, although he +revolted in early youth from the narrow creed which her fierce Puritan +zeal strove to impose on her household. Outside of the nursery, the +atmosphere of his world was that of craft, all directed to one end; for +the Queen was the source of honor, power, and wealth, and advancement in +life meant only a share in the grace distributed through her ministers +and favorites. Apart from the harsh and forbidding religious teachings +of his mother, young Francis had before him neither precept nor example +of an ambition more worthy than that of courting the smiles of power. + +[Illustration: SIR FRANCIS BACON.] + +At the age of twelve he entered Trinity College, Cambridge (April, +1573), and left it before he was fifteen (Christmas, 1575); the +institution meanwhile having been broken up for more than half a year +(August, 1574, to March, 1575) by the plague, so that his intermittent +university career summed up less than fourteen months. There is no +record of his studies, and the names of his teachers are unknown; for +though Bacon in later years called himself a pupil of Whitgift, and his +biographers assumed that the relation was direct and personal, yet that +great master of Trinity had certainly ended his teaching days before +Bacon went to Cambridge, and had entered as Dean of Lincoln on his +splendid ecclesiastical career. University life was very different from +that of our times. The statutes of Cambridge forbade a student, under +penalties, to use in conversation with another any language but +Latin, Greek, or Hebrew, unless in his private apartments and in hours +of leisure. It was a regular custom at Trinity to bring before the +assembled undergraduates every Thursday evening at seven o'clock such +junior students as had been detected in breaches of the rules during the +week, and to flog them. It would be interesting to know in what +languages young Bacon conversed, and what experiences of discipline +befell him; but his subsequent achievements at least suggest that +Cambridge in the sixteenth century may have afforded more efficient +educational influences than our knowledge of its resources and methods +can explain. For it is certain that, at an age when our most promising +youths are beginning serious study, Bacon's mind was already formed, his +habits and modes of research were fixed, the universe of knowledge was +an open field before him. Thenceforth he was no man's pupil, but in +intellectual independence and solitude he rapidly matured into the +supreme scholar of his age. + +After registering as a student of law at Gray's Inn, apparently for the +purpose of a nominal connection with a profession which might aid his +patrons in promoting him at court, Bacon was sent in June, 1576, to +France in the train of the British Ambassador, Sir Amyas Paulet; and for +nearly three years followed the roving embassy around the great cities +of that kingdom. The massacre of St. Bartholomew had taken place four +years before, and the boy's recorded observations on the troubled +society of France and of Europe show remarkable insight into the +character of princes and the sources of political movements. Sir +Nicholas had hitherto directed his son's education and associations with +the purpose of making him an ornament of the court, and had set aside a +fund to provide Francis at the proper time with a handsome estate. But +he died suddenly, February 20th, 1579, without giving legal effect to +this provision, and the sum designed for the young student was divided +equally among the five children, while Francis was excluded from a share +in the rest of the family fortune; and was thus called home to England +to find himself a poor man. + +He made himself a bachelor's home at Gray's Inn, and devoted his +energies to the law, with such success that he was soon recognized as +one of the most promising members of the profession. In 1584 he entered +Parliament for Melcombe Regis in Somersetshire, and two years later sat +for Liverpool. During these years the schism between his inner and his +outer life continued to widen. Drawing his first breath in the +atmosphere of the court, bred in the faith that honor and greatness come +from princes' favor, with a native taste for luxury and magnificence +which was fostered by delicate health, he steadily looked for +advancement through the influence of Burghley and the smiles of the +Queen. But Burghley had no sympathy with speculative thought, and +distrusted him for his confidences concerning his higher studies, while +he probably feared in Bacon a dangerous rival of his own son; so that +with expressions of kind interest, he refrained from giving his nephew +practical aid. Elizabeth, too, suspected that a young man who knew so +many things could not be trusted to know his own business well, and +preferred for important professional work others who were lawyers and +nothing besides. Thus Bacon appeared to the world as a disappointed and +uneasy courtier, struggling to keep up a certain splendor of appearance +and associations under a growing load of debt, and servile to a Queen on +whose caprice his prospects of a career must depend. His unquestioned +power at the bar was exercised only in minor causes; his eloquence and +political dexterity found slow recognition in Parliament, where they +represented only themselves; and the question whether he would ever be a +man of note in the kingdom seemed for twenty-five years to turn upon +what the Crown might do for its humble suitor. + +Meanwhile this laborious advocate and indefatigable courtier, whose +labors at the bar and in attendance upon his great friends were enough +to fill the days of two ordinary men, led his real life in secret, +unknown to the world, and uncomprehended even by the few in whom he had +divined a capacity for great thought, and whom he had selected for his +confidants. From his childhood at the university, where he felt the +emptiness of the Aristotelian logic, the instrument for attaining truth +which traditional learning had consecrated, he had gradually formed the +conception of a more fruitful process. He had become convinced that the +learning of all past ages was but a poor result of the intellectual +capacities and labors which had been employed upon it; that the human +mind had never yet been properly used; that the methods hitherto adopted +in research were but treadmill work, returning upon itself, or at best +could produce but fragmentary and accidental additions to the sum of +knowledge. All nature is crammed with truth, he believed, which it +concerns man to discover; the intellect of man is constructed for its +discovery, and needs but to be purged of errors of every kind, and +directed in the most efficient employment of its faculties, to make sure +that all the secrets of nature will be revealed, and its powers made +tributary to the health, comfort, enjoyment, and progressive improvement +of mankind. + +This stupendous conception, of a revolution which should transform the +world, seems to have taken definite form in Bacon's mind as early as his +twenty-fifth year, when he embodied the outline of it in a Latin +treatise; which he destroyed in later life, unpublished, as immature, +and partly no doubt because he came to recognize in it an unbecoming +arrogance of tone, for its title was 'Temporis Partus Maximus' (The +Greatest Birth of Time.) But six years later he defines these "vast +contemplative ends" in his famous letter to Burghley, asking for +preferment which will enable him to prosecute his grand scheme and to +employ other minds in aid of it. "For I have taken all knowledge to be +my province," he says, "and if I could purge it of two sorts of rovers, +whereof the one with frivolous disputations, confutations, and +verbosities, the other with blind experiments and auricular traditions +and impostures, hath committed so many spoils, I hope I should bring in +industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable +inventions and discoveries: the best state of that province. This, +whether it be curiosity or vain glory, or nature, or (if one take it +favorably) _philanthropia_ is so fixed in my mind as it cannot +be removed." + +This letter reveals the secret of Bacon's life, and all that we know of +him, read in the light of it, forms a consistent and harmonious whole. +He was possessed by his vast scheme, for a reformation of the +intellectual world, and through it, of the world of human experience, as +fully as was ever apostle by his faith. Implicitly believing in his own +ability to accomplish it, at least in its grand outlines, and to leave +at his death the community of mind at work, by the method and for the +purposes which he had defined, with the perfection of all science in +full view, he subordinated every other ambition to this; and in seeking +and enjoying place, power, and wealth, still regarded them mainly as +aids in prosecuting his master purpose, and in introducing it to the +world. With this clearly in mind, it is easy to understand his +subsequent career. Its external details may be read in any of the score +of biographies which writers of all grades of merit and demerit have +devoted to him, and there is no space for them here. For our purpose it +is necessary to refer only to the principal crises in his public life. + +Until the death of Elizabeth, Bacon had no place in the royal service +worthy of his abilities as a lawyer. Many who, even in the narrowest +professional sense, were far inferior to him, were preferred before him. +Yet he obtained a position recognized by all, and second only in legal +learning to his lifelong rival and constant adversary, Sir Edward Coke. +To-day, it is probable that if the two greatest names in the history of +the common law were to be selected by the suffrages of the profession, +the great majority would be cast for Coke and Bacon. As a master of the +intricacies of precedent and an authority upon the detailed formulas of +"the perfection of reason," the former is unrivaled still; but in the +comprehensive grasp of the law as a system for the maintenance of social +order and the protection of individual rights, Bacon rose far above him. +The cherished aim of his professional career was to survey the whole +body of the laws of England, to produce a digest of them which should +result in a harmonious code, to do away with all that was found obsolete +or inconsistent with the principles of the system, and thus to adapt the +living, progressive body of the law to the wants of the growing nation. +This magnificent plan was beyond the power of any one man, had his life +no other task, but he suggested the method and the aim; and while for +six generations after these legal giants passed away, the minute, +accurate, and profound learning of Coke remained the acknowledged chief +storehouse of British traditional jurisprudence, the seventh generation +took up the work of revision and reform, and from the time of Bentham +and Austin the progress of legal science has been toward codification. +The contest between the aggregation of empirical rules and formulated +customs which Coke taught as the common law, and the broad, harmonious +application of scientific reason to the definition and enforcement of +rights, still goes on; but with constant gains on the side of the +reformers, all of whom with one consent confess that no general and +complete reconstruction of legal doctrine as a science is possible, +except upon the lines laid down by Bacon. + +The most memorable case in which Bacon was employed to represent the +Crown during Elizabeth's life was the prosecution of the Earl of Essex +for treason. Essex had been Bacon's friend, patron, and benefactor; and +as long as the earl remained faithful to the Queen and retained her +favor, Bacon served him with ready zeal and splendid efficiency, and +showed himself the wisest and most sincere of counselors. When Essex +rejected his advice, forfeited the Queen's confidence by the follies +from which Bacon had earnestly striven to deter him, and finally plunged +into wanton and reckless rebellion, Bacon, with whom loyalty to his +sovereign had always been the supreme duty, accepted a retainer from the +Crown, and assisted Coke in the prosecution. The crime of Essex was the +greatest of which a subject was capable; it lacked no circumstance of +aggravation; if the most astounding instance of ingratitude and +disloyalty to friendship ever known is to be sought in that age, it will +be found in the conduct of Essex to Bacon's royal mistress. Yet writers +of eloquence have exhausted their rhetorical powers in denouncing +Bacon's faithlessness to his friend. But no impartial reader of the full +story in the documents of the time can doubt that throughout these +events Bacon did his duty and no more, and that in doing it he not +merely made a voluntary sacrifice of his popularity, but a far more +painful sacrifice of his personal feelings. + +In 1603 James I. came to the throne, and in spite of the efforts of his +most trusted ministers to keep Bacon in obscurity, soon discovered in +him a man whom he needed. In 1607 he was made Solicitor-General; in +1613 Attorney-General; in March 1617, on the death of Lord Ellesmere, he +received the seals as Lord Keeper; and in January following was made +Lord Chancellor of England. In July 1618 he was raised to the permanent +peerage as Baron Verulam, and in January 1621 received the title of +Viscount St. Albans. During these three years he was the first subject +in the kingdom in dignity, and ought to have been the first in +influence. His advice to the King, and to the Duke of Buckingham who was +the King's king, was always judicious. In certain cardinal points of +policy, it was of the highest statesmanship; and had it been followed, +the history of the Stuart dynasty would have been different, and the +Crown and the Parliament would have wrought together for the good and +the honor of the nation, at least through a generation to come. But the +upstart Buckingham was supreme. He had studied Bacon's strength and +weakness, had laid him under great obligations, had at the same time +attached him by the strongest tie of friendship to his person, and +impressed upon his consciousness the fact that the fate of Bacon was at +all times in his hands. The new Chancellor had entered on his great +office with a fixed purpose to reform its abuses, to speed and cheapen +justice, to free its administration from every influence of wealth and +power. In the first three months of service he brought up the large +arrears of business, tried every cause, heard every petition, and +acquired a splendid reputation as an upright and diligent judge. But +Buckingham was his evil angel. He was without sense of the sanctity of +the judicial character; and regarded the bench, like every other public +office, as an instrument of his own interests and will. On the other +hand, to Bacon the voice of Buckingham was the voice of the King, and he +had been taught from infancy as the beginning of his political creed +that the king can do no wrong. Buckingham began at once to solicit from +Bacon favors for his friends and dependants, and the Chancellor was weak +enough to listen and to answer him. There is no evidence that in any one +instance the favorite asked for the violation of law or the perversion +of justice; much less that Bacon would or did accede to such a request. +But the Duke demanded for one suitor a speedy hearing, for another a +consideration of facts which might not be in evidence, for a third all +the favor consistent with law; and Bacon reported to him the result, and +how far he had been able to oblige him. This persistent tampering with +the source of justice was a disturbing influence in the Chancellor's +court, and unquestionably lowered the dignity of his attitude and +weakened his judicial conscience. + +Notwithstanding this, when the Lord Chancellor opened the Parliament in +January, 1621, with a speech in praise of his King and in honor of the +nation, he seemed to be at the summit of earthly prosperity. No voice +had been lifted to question his purity and worth. He was the friend of +the King, one of the chief supports of the throne, a champion indeed of +high prerogative, but an orator of power, a writer of fame, whose +advancement to the highest dignities had been welcomed by public +opinion. Four months later he was a convicted criminal, sentenced for +judicial corruption to imprisonment at the King's pleasure, to a fine of +£40,000, and to perpetual incapacity for any public employment. +Vicissitudes of fortune are commonplaces of history. Many a man once +seemingly pinnacled on the top of greatness has "shot from the zenith +like a falling star," and become a proverb of the fickleness of fate. +Some are torn down by the very traits of mind, passion, or temper, which +have raised them: ambition which overleaps itself, rashness which +hazards all on chances it cannot control, vast abilities not great +enough to achieve the impossible. The plunge of Icarus into the sea, the +murder of Caesar, the imprisonment of Coeur de Lion, the abdication of +Napoleon, the apprehension as a criminal of Jefferson Davis, each was a +startling and impressive contrast to the glory which it followed, yet +each was the natural result of causes which lay in the character and +life of the sufferer, and made his story a consistent whole. But the +pathos of Bacon's fall is the sudden moral ruin of a life which had been +built up in honor for sixty years. An intellect of the first rank, which +from boyhood to old age had been steadfast in the pursuit of truth and +in the noblest services to mankind, which in a feeble body had been +sustained in vigor by all the virtues of prudence and self-reverence; a +genial nature, winning the affection and admiration of associates, +hardly paralleled in the industry with which its energies were devoted +to useful work, a soul exceptional among its contemporaries for piety +and philanthropy--this man is represented to us by popular writers as +having habitually sold justice for money, and as having become in office +"the meanest of mankind." + +But this picture, as so often drawn, and as seemingly fixed in the +popular mind, is not only impossible, but is demonstrably false. To +review all the facts which correct it in detail would lead us far beyond +our limits. It must suffice to refer to the great work of Spedding, in +which the entire records of the case are found, and which would long ago +have made the world just to Bacon's fame, but that the author's comment +on his own complete and fair record is itself partial and extravagant. +But the materials for a final judgment are accessible to all in +Spedding's volumes, and a candid reading of them solves the enigma. +Bacon was condemned without a trial, on his own confession, and this +confession was consistent with the tenor of his life. Its substance was +that he had failed to put a stop effectually to the immemorial custom +in his court of receiving presents from suitors, but that he had never +deviated from justice in his decrees. There was no instance in which he +was accused of yielding to the influence of gifts, or passing judgment +for a bribe. No act of his as Chancellor was impeached as illegal, or +reversed as corrupt. Suitors complained that they had sent sums of money +or valuable presents to his court, and had been disappointed in the +result; but no one complained of injustice in a decision. Bacon was a +conspicuous member of the royal party; and when the storm of popular +fury broke in Parliament upon the court, the King and the ministry +abandoned him. He had stood all his life upon the royal favor as the +basis of his strength and hope; and when it was gone from under him, he +sank helplessly, and refused to attempt a defense. But he still in his +humiliation found comfort in the reflection that his ruin would put an +end to "anything that is in the likeness of corruption" among the +judges. And he wrote, in the hour of his deepest distress, that he had +been "the justest Chancellor that hath been in the five changes that +have been since Sir Nicholas Bacon's time." Nor did any man of his time +venture to contradict him, when in later years he summed up his case in +the words, "I was the justest judge that was in England these fifty +years. But it was the justest censure in Parliament that was these two +hundred years." + +No revolution of modern times has been more complete than that which the +last two centuries have silently wrought in the customary morality of +British public life, and in the standards by which it is judged. Under +James I. every office of state was held as the private property of its +occupant. The highest places in the government were conferred only on +condition of large payments to the King. He openly sold the honors and +dignities of which he was the source. "The making of a baron," that is, +the right to sell to some rich plebeian a patent of nobility, was a +common grant to favorites, and was actually bestowed on Bacon, to aid +him in maintaining the state of his office. We have the testimony of +James himself that all the lawyers, of whom the judges of the realm were +made, were "so bred and nursed in corruption that they cannot leave it." +But the line between what the King called corruption and that which he +and all his ministers practiced openly and habitually, as part of the +regular work of government, is dim and hard to define. The mind of the +community had not yet firmly grasped the conception of public office as +a trust for the public good, and the general opinion which stimulates +and sustains the official conscience in holding this trust sacred was +still unformed. The courts of justice were the first branch of the +government to feel the pressure of public opinion, and to respond to +the demand for impersonal and impartial right. But this process had only +begun when Bacon, who had never before served as judge, was called to +preside in Chancery. The Chancellor's office was a gradual development: +originally political and administrative rather than judicial, and with +no salary or reward for hearing causes, save the voluntary presents of +suitors who asked its interference with the ordinary courts, it step by +step became the highest tribunal of the equity which limits and corrects +the routine of law, and still the custom of gifts was unchecked. A +careful study of Bacon's career shows that in this, as every other +branch of thought, his theoretic convictions were in advance of his age; +and in his advice to the King and in his inaugural promises as +Chancellor, he foreshadows all the principles on which the wisest +reformers of the public service now insist. But he failed to apply them +with that heroic self-sacrifice which alone would have availed him, and +the forces of custom and example continually encroached upon his views +of duty. Having through a long life sought advancement and wealth for +the purpose of using leisure and independence to carry out his +beneficent plans on the largest scale, he eagerly accepted the +traditional emoluments of his new position, in the conviction that they +would become in his hands the means of vast good to mankind. It was only +the public exposure which fully awakened him to a sense of the +inconsistency and wrong of his conduct; and then he was himself his +severest judge, and made every reparation in his power, by the most +unreserved confession, by pointing out the danger to society of such +weakness as his own in language to whose effectiveness nothing could be +added, and by devoting the remainder of his life to the noblest work +for humanity. + +During the years of Bacon's splendor as a member of the government and +as spokesman for the throne, his real life as a thinker, inspired by the +loftiest ambition which ever entered the mind of man, that of creating a +new and better civilization, was not interrupted. It was probably in +1603 that he wrote his fragmentary 'Prooemium de Interpretatione +Naturae,' or 'Preface to a Treatise on Interpreting Nature,' which is +the only piece of autobiography he has left us. It was found among his +papers after his death; and its candor, dignity, and enthusiasm of tone +are in harmony with the imaginative grasp and magnificent suggestiveness +of its thought. Commending the original Latin to all who can appreciate +its eloquence, we cite the first sentences of it in English:-- + + "Believing that I was born for the service of mankind, and + regarding the care of the Commonwealth as a kind of common + property which, like the air and water, belongs to everybody, + I set myself to consider in what way mankind might be best + served, and what service I was myself best fitted by nature + to perform. + + "Now, among all the benefits that could be conferred upon + mankind, I found none so great as the discovery of new arts + for the bettering of human life. For I saw that among the + rude people of early times, inventors and discoverers were + reckoned as gods. It was seen that the works of founders of + States, law-givers, tyrant-destroyers, and heroes cover but + narrow spaces and endure but for a time; while the work of + the inventor, though of less pomp, is felt everywhere and + lasts forever. But above all, if a man could, I do not say + devise some invention, however useful, but kindle a light in + nature--a light which, even in rising, should touch and + illuminate the borders of existing knowledge, and spreading + further on should bring to light all that is most + secret--that man, in my view, would be indeed the benefactor + of mankind, the extender of man's empire over nature, the + champion of freedom, the conqueror of fate. + + "For myself, I found that I was fitted for nothing so well as + for the study of Truth: as having a mind nimble and versatile + enough to discern resemblances in things (the main point), + and yet steady enough to distinguish the subtle differences + in them; as being endowed with zeal to seek, patience to + doubt, love of meditation, slowness of assertion, readiness + to reconsider, carefulness to arrange and set in order; and + as being a man that affects not the new nor admires the old, + but hates all imposture. So I thought my nature had a certain + familiarity and kindred with Truth." + +During the next two years he applied himself to the composition of the +treatise on the 'Advancement of Learning,' the greatest of his English +writings, and one which contains the seed-thoughts and outline +principles of all his philosophy. From the time of its publication in +1605 to his fall in 1621, he continued to frame the plan of his 'Great +Instauration' of human knowledge, and to write out chapters, books, +passages, sketches, designed to take their places in it as essential +parts. It was to include six great divisions: first, a general survey of +existing knowledge; second, a guide to the use of the intellect in +research, purging it of sources of error, and furnishing it with the new +instrument of inductive logic by which all the laws of nature might be +ascertained; third, a structure of the phenomena of nature, included in +one hundred and thirty particular branches of natural history, as the +materials for the new logic; fourth, a series of types and models of the +entire mental process of discovering truth, "selecting various and +remarkable instances"; fifth, specimens of the new philosophy, or +anticipations of its results, in fragmentary contributions to the sixth +and crowning division, which was to set forth the new philosophy in its +completeness, comprehending the truths to be discovered by a perfected +instrument of reasoning, in interpreting all the phenomena of the world. +Well aware that the scheme, especially in its concluding part, was far +beyond the power and time of any one man, he yet hoped to be the +architect of the final edifice of science, by drawing its plans and +making them intelligible, leaving their perfect execution to an +intellectual world which could not fail to be moved to its supreme +effort by a comprehension of the work before it. The 'Novum Organum,' +itself but a fragment of the second division of the 'Instauration,' the +key to the use of the intellect in the discovery of truth, was published +in Latin at the height of his splendor as Lord Chancellor, in 1620, and +is his most memorable achievement in philosophy. It contains a multitude +of suggestive thoughts on the whole field of science, but is mainly the +exposition of the fallacies by which the intellect is deceived and +misled, and from which it must be purged in order to attain final truth, +and of the new doctrine of "prerogative instances," or crucial +observations and experiments in the work of discovery. + +In short, Bacon's entire achievement in science is a plan for an +impossible universe of knowledge. As far as he attempted to advance +particular sciences by applying his method to their detailed phenomena, +he wrought with imperfect knowledge of what had been done, and with +cumbrous and usually misdirected efforts to fill the gaps he recognized. +In a few instances, by what seems an almost superhuman instinct for +truth, rather than the laborious process of investigation which he +taught, he anticipated brilliant discoveries of later centuries. For +example, he clearly pointed out the necessity of regarding heat as a +form of motion in the molecules of matter, and thus foreshadowed, +without any conception of the means of proving it, that which, for +investigators of the nineteenth century, has proved the most direct way +to the secrets of nature. But the testimony of the great teachers of +science is unanimous, that Bacon was not a skilled observer of +phenomena, nor a discoverer of scientific inductions; that he +contributed no important new truth, in the sense of an established law, +to any department of knowledge; and that his method of research and +reasoning is not, in its essential features, that which is fruitfully +pursued by them in extending the boundaries of science, nor was his mind +wholly purged of those "idols of the cave," or forms of personal bias, +whose varying forms as hindrances to the "dry light" of sound reason he +was the first to expose. He never appreciated the mathematics as the +basis of physics, but valued their elements mainly as a mental +discipline. Astronomy meant little to him, since he failed to connect it +directly with human well-being and improvement; to the system of +Copernicus, the beginning of our insight into the heavens, he was +hostile, or at least indifferent; and the splendid discoveries +successively made by Tycho Brahe, Galileo, and Kepler, and brought to +his ears while the 'Great Instauration' filled his mind and heart, met +with but a feeble welcome with him, or none. Why is it, then, that +Bacon's is the foremost name in the history of English, and perhaps, as +many insist, of all modern thought? Why is it that "the Baconian +philosophy" is another phrase, in all the languages of Europe, for that +splendid development of the study and knowledge of the visible universe +which since his time has changed the life of mankind? + +A candid answer to these questions will expose an error as wide in the +popular estimate of Bacon's intellectual greatness as that which has +prevailed so generally regarding his character. He is called the +inventor of inductive reasoning, the reformer of logic, the lawgiver of +the world of thought; but he was no one of these. His grasp of the +inductive method was defective; his logic was clumsy and impractical; +his plan for registering all phenomena and selecting and generalizing +from them, making the discovery of truth almost a mechanical process, +was worthless. In short, it is not as a philosopher nor as a man of +science that Bacon has carved his name in the high places of enduring +fame, but rather as a man of letters; as on the whole the greatest +writer of the modern world, outside of the province of imaginative art; +as the Shakespeare of English prose. Does this seem a paradox to the +reader who remembers that Bacon distrusted all modern languages, and +thought to make his 'Advancement of Learning' "live, and be a citizen of +the world," by giving it a Latin form? That his lifelong ambition was to +reconstruct methods of thought, and guide intellect in the way of work +serviceable to comfort and happiness? That the books in which his +English style appears in its perfection, the 'History of Henry VII.,' +the 'Essays,' and the papers on public affairs, were but incidents and +avocations of a life absorbed by a master purpose? + +But what is literature? It is creative mind, addressing itself in worthy +expression to the common receptive mind of mankind. Its note is +universality, as distinguished from all that is technical, limited, and +narrow. Thought whose interest is as broad as humanity, suitably clothed +in the language of real life, and thus fitted for access to the general +intelligence, constitutes true literature, to the exclusion of that +which, by its nature or by its expression, appeals only to a special +class or school. The 'Opus Anglicanum' of Duns Scotus, Newton's +'Principia,' Lavoisier's treatise 'Sur la Combustion,' Kant's 'Kritik +der Reinen Vernunft' (Critique of Pure Reason), each made an epoch in +some vast domain of knowledge or belief; but none of them is literature. +Yet the thoughts they, through a limited and specially trained class of +students, introduced to the world, were gradually taken up into the +common stock of mankind, and found their broad, effective, complete +expression in the literature of after generations. If we apply this +test to Bacon's life work, we shall find sufficient justification for +honoring him above all special workers in narrower fields, as next to +Shakespeare the greatest name in the greatest period of English +literature. + +It was not as an experimenter, investigator, or technical teacher, but +as a thinker and a writer, that he rendered his great service to the +world. This consisted essentially in the contribution of two magnificent +ideas to the common stock of thought: the idea of the utility of +science, as able to subjugate the forces of nature to the use of man; +and the idea of continued and boundless progress in the comfort and +happiness of the individual life, and in the order and dignity of human +society. It has been shown how, from early manhood, he was inspired by +the conception of infinite resources in the material world, for the +discovery and employment of which the human mind is adapted. He never +wearied of pointing out the imperfection and fruitlessness of the +methods of inquiry and of invention hitherto in use, and the splendid +results which could be rapidly attained if a combined and systematic +effort were made to enlarge the boundaries of knowledge. This led him +directly to the conception of an improved and advancing civilization; to +the utterance, in a thousand varied, impressive, and fascinating forms, +of that idea of human progress which is the inspiration, the +characteristic, and the hope of the modern world. Bacon was the first of +men to grasp these ideas in all their comprehensiveness as feasible +purposes, as practical aims; to teach the development of them as the +supreme duty and ambition of his contemporaries, and to look forward +instead of behind him for the Golden Age. Enforcing and applying these +thoughts with a wealth of learning, a keenness of wit, a soundness of +judgment, and a suggestiveness of illustration unequaled by any writer +before him, he became the greatest literary power of modern times to +stimulate minds in every department of life to their noblest efforts and +their worthiest achievements. + +Literature has a twofold aspect: its ideal is pure truth, which is the +noblest thought embodied in perfect beauty of form. It is the union of +science and art, the final wedding in which are merged the knowledge +worthy to be known and the highest imagination presenting it. There is a +school calling itself that of pure art, to which substance is nothing +and form is everything. Its measure of merit is applied to the manner +only; and the meanest of subjects, the most trivial and even the most +degraded of ideas or facts, is welcomed to its high places if clothed in +a satisfying garb. But this school, though arrogant in the other arts of +expression, has not yet been welcomed to the judgment-seat in +literature, where indeed it is passing even now to contempt and +oblivion. Bacon's instinct was for substance. His strongest passion was +for utility. The artistic side of his nature was receptive rather than +creative. Splendid passages in the 'Advancement' and 'De Augmentis' show +his profound appreciation of all the arts of expression, but show +likewise his inability to glorify them above that which they express. In +his mind, language is subordinate to thought, and the painting to the +picture, just as the frame is to the painting or the binding to the +book. He writes always in the grand style. He reminds us of "the large +utterance of the early gods." His sentences are weighted with thought, +as suggestive as Plato, as condensed as Thucydides. Full of wit, keen in +discerning analogies, rich in intellectual ornament, he is yet too +concentrated in his attention to the idea to care for the melody of +language. He decorates with fruits, not with flowers. For metrical +movement, for rhythmic harmony, he has no ear nor sense. Inconceivable +as it is that Shakespeare could have written one aphorism of the 'Novum +Organum,' it would be far more absurd to imagine Bacon writing a line of +the Sonnets. With the loftiest imagination, the liveliest fancy, the +keenest sense of precision and appropriateness in words, he lacks the +special gift of poetic form, the faculty divine which finds new +inspiration in the very limitations of measured language, and whose +natural expression is music alike to the ear and to the mind. His powers +were cramped by the fetters of metre, and his attempts to versify even +rich thought and deep feeling were puerile. But his prose is by far the +weightiest, the most lucid, effective, and pleasing of his day. The poet +Sprat justly says:-- + + "He was a man of strong, clear, and powerful imaginations; + his genius was searching and inimitable; and of this I need + give no other proof than his style itself, which as for the + most part it describes men's minds as well as pictures do + their bodies, so it did his above all men living." + +And Ben Jonson, who knew him well, describes his eloquence in terms +which are confirmed by all we know of his Parliamentary career:-- + + "One, though he be excellent and the chief, is not to be + imitated alone; for no imitator ever grew up to his author: + likeness is always on this side truth. Yet there happened in + my time one noble speaker, who was full of gravity in his + speaking. His language (when he could spare or pass by a + jest) was nobly censorious. No man ever spake more neatly, + more rightly, more weightily, or suffered less emptiness, + less idleness in what he uttered. No member of his speech but + consisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough or + look aside from him without loss. He commanded when he spoke, + and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion. No man + had their affections more in his power. The fear of every man + that heard him was lest he should make an end." + +The speeches of Bacon are almost wholly lost, his philosophy is an +undeciphered heap of fragments, the ambitions of his life lay in ruins +about his dishonored old age; yet his intellect is one of the great +moving and still vital forces of the modern world, and he remains, for +all ages to come, in the literature which is the final storehouse of the +chief treasures of mankind, one of + + "The dead yet sceptered sovereigns who still rule + Our spirits from their urns." + + +OF TRUTH + +From the 'Essays' + +What is Truth? said jesting Pilate; and would not stay for an answer. +Certainly there be that delight in giddiness; and count it a bondage to +fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in acting. And +though the sects of philosophers of that kind be gone, yet there remain +certain discoursing wits, which are of the same veins, though there be +not so much blood in them as was in those of the ancients. But it is not +only the difficulty and labor which men take in finding out of truth, +nor again, that when it is found it imposeth upon men's thoughts, that +doth bring lies in favor: but a natural though corrupt love of the lie +itself. One of the later school of the Grecians examineth the matter, +and is at a stand to think what should be in it, that men should love +lies, where neither they make for pleasure as with poets, nor for +advantage as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I cannot +tell: this same truth is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show +the masks and mummeries and triumphs of the world half so stately and +daintily as candle-lights. Truth may perhaps come to the price of a +pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to the price of a +diamond or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied lights. A mixture of a +lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken +out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, +imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds +of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and +indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves? One of the fathers, in +great severity, called poesy _vinum doemonum,_ because it filleth the +imagination, and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not +the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in and +settleth in it, that doth the hurt; such as we spake of before. But +howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved judgments and +affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the +inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or wooing of it, the +knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of +truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human +nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the +light of the sense; the last was the light of reason; and his Sabbath +work ever since is the illumination of his Spirit.... The poet that +beautified the sect that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet +excellently well:--"It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see +ships tossed upon the sea; a pleasure to stand in the window of a +castle, and to see a battle and the adventures thereof below; but no +pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of Truth" +(a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always clear and +serene). "and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and +tempests, in the vale below:" so always that this prospect be with pity, +and not with swelling or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth, to +have a man's mind move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the +poles of truth. + +To pass from theological and philosophical truth to the truth of civil +business: it will be acknowledged even by those that practice it not, +that clear and round dealing is the honor of man's nature, and that +mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may +make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these winding +and crooked courses are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely +upon the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no vice that doth so +cover a man with shame as to be found false and perfidious; and +therefore Montaigne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason why the +word of the lie should be such a disgrace and such an odious charge. +Saith he, "If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much as +to say that he is brave toward God and a coward toward men." For a lie +faces God, and shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of falsehood and +breach of faith cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it +shall be the last peal to call the judgments of God upon the generations +of men; it being foretold, that when Christ cometh, "he shall not find +faith upon the earth." + + +OF REVENGE + +From the 'Essays' + +Revenge is a kind of wild justice; which the more man's nature runs to, +the more ought law to weed it out. For as for the first wrong, it doth +but offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong putteth the law out of +office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; +but in passing it over, he is superior: for it is a prince's part to +pardon, and Solomon, I am sure, saith, "It is the glory of a man to pass +by an offense." That which is past is gone and irrevocable, and wise men +have enough to do with things present and to come; therefore, they do +but trifle with themselves that labor in past matters. There is no man +doth a wrong for the wrong's sake; but thereby to purchase himself +profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like. Therefore, why should I be +angry with a man for loving himself better than me? And if any man +should do wrong merely out of ill-nature, why yet it is but like the +thorn or brier, which prick and scratch because they can do no other. +The most tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which there is no +law to remedy; but then, let a man take heed the revenge be such as +there is no law to punish, else a man's enemy is still beforehand, and +it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, are desirous the party +should know whence it cometh. This is the more generous; for the delight +seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt as in making the party +repent. But base and crafty cowards are like the arrow that flieth in +the dark. Cosmus, Duke of Florence, had a desperate saying against +perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were unpardonable. +"You shall read," saith he, "that we are commanded to forgive our +enemies; but you never read that we are commanded to forgive our +friends." But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune: "Shall we," +saith he, "take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil +also?" And so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man +that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would +heal and do well. Public revenges are for the most part fortunate: as +that for the death of Caesar; for the death of Pertinax; for the death +of Henry the Third of France; and many more. But in private revenges it +is not so. Nay, rather vindictive persons live the life of witches; who, +as they are mischievous, so end they infortunate. + + +OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION + +From the 'Essays' + +Dissimulation is but a faint kind of policy or wisdom; for it asketh a +strong wit and a strong heart to know when to tell truth, and to do it. +Therefore it is the weaker sort of politicians that are the great +dissemblers. + +Tacitus saith, "Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband and +dissimulation of her son;" attributing arts of policy to Augustus, and +dissimulation to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus encourageth +Vespasian to take arms against Vitellius, he saith, "We rise not against +the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or closeness +of Tiberius." These properties of arts or policy, and dissimulation or +closeness, are indeed habits and faculties several, and to be +distinguished. For if a man have that penetration of judgment as he can +discern what things are to be laid open, and what to be secreted, and +what to be showed at half-lights, and to whom and when, (which indeed +are arts of state and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them,) to +him a habit of dissimulation is a hindrance and a poorness. But if a man +cannot obtain to that judgment, then it is left to him generally to be +close, and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose or vary in +particulars, there it is good to take the safest and wariest way in +general; like the going softly, by one that cannot well see. Certainly +the ablest men that ever were, have had all an openness and frankness of +dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity: but then they were like +horses well managed, for they could tell passing well when to stop or +turn; and at such times when they thought the case indeed required +dissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former +opinion spread abroad of their good faith and clearness of dealing made +them almost invisible. + +There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling of a man's self. The +first, Closeness, Reservation, and Secrecy; when a man leaveth himself +without observation, or without hold to be taken, what he is. The +second, Dissimulation, in the negative; when a man lets fall signs and +arguments, that he is not that he is. And the third, Simulation, in the +affirmative; when a man industriously and expressly feigns and pretends +to be that he is not. + +For the first of these, Secrecy: it is indeed the virtue of a confessor. +And assuredly the secret man heareth many confessions; for who will open +himself to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought secret, it +inviteth discovery, as the more close air sucketh in the more open; and +as in confession the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the ease +of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowledge of many things in +that kind: while men rather discharge their minds than impart their +minds. In few words, mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides (to say +truth), nakedness is uncomely, as well in mind as body; and it addeth no +small reverence to men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether +open. As for talkers and futile persons, they are commonly vain and +credulous withal; for he that talketh what he knoweth, will also talk +what he knoweth not. Therefore set it down, that a habit of secrecy is +both politic and moral. And in this part it is good that a man's face +give his tongue leave to speak; for the discovery of a man's self by the +tracts of his countenance is a great weakness and betraying, by how much +it is many times more marked and believed than a man's words. + +For the second, which is Dissimulation: it followeth many times upon +secrecy by a necessity; so that he that will be secret must be a +dissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning to suffer a man to +keep an indifferent carriage between both, and to be secret, without +swaying the balance on either side. They will so beset a man with +questions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that without an +absurd silence, he must show an inclination one way; or if he do not, +they will gather as much by his silence as by his speech. As for +equivocations, or oraculous speeches, they cannot hold out long. So that +no man can be secret, except he give himself a little scope of +dissimulation; which is, as it were, but the skirts or train of secrecy. + +But for the third degree, which is Simulation and false profession: +that I hold more culpable and less politic, except it be in great and +rare matters. And therefore a general custom of simulation (which is +this last degree) is a vice rising either of a natural falseness or +fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults; which because a +man must needs disguise, it maketh him practice simulation in other +things, lest his hand should be out of use. + +The great advantages of simulation and dissimulation are three. First, +to lay asleep opposition, and to surprise; for where a man's intentions +are published, it is an alarum to call up all that are against them. The +second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair retreat; for if a man +engage himself by a manifest declaration, he must go through or take a +fall. The third is, the better to discover the mind of another; for to +him that opens himself men will hardly show themselves adverse, but will +fair let him go on, and turn their freedom of speech to freedom of +thought. And therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, +"Tell a lie and find a troth;" as if there were no way of discovery but +by simulation. There be also three disadvantages to set it even. The +first, that simulation and dissimulation commonly carry with them a show +of fearfulness; which in any business doth spoil the feathers of round +flying up to the mark. The second, that it puzzleth and perplexeth the +conceits of many that perhaps would otherwise co-operate with him, and +makes a man walk almost alone to his own ends. The third and greatest +is, that it depriveth a man of one of the most principal instruments for +action; which is trust and belief. The best composition and temperature +is, to have openness in fame and opinion; secrecy in habit; +dissimulation in seasonable use; and a power to feign if there be +no remedy. + + +OF TRAVEL + +From the 'Essays' + +Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the elder, a +part of experience. He that traveleth into a country before he hath some +entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to travel. That +young men travel under some tutor or grave servant, I allow well: so +that he be such a one that hath the language, and hath been in the +country before; whereby he may be able to tell them what things are +worthy to be seen in the country where they go, what acquaintances they +are to seek, what exercises or discipline the place yielded. For else +young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange +thing, that in sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but sky +and sea, men should make diaries; but in land travel, wherein so much is +to be observed, for the most part they omit it; as if chance were fitter +to be registered than observation. Let diaries therefore be brought in +use. The things to be seen and observed are, the courts of princes, +specially when they give audience to ambassadors; the courts of justice, +while they sit and hear causes; and so of consistories ecclesiastic; the +churches and monasteries, with the monuments which are therein extant; +the walls and fortifications of cities and towns, and so the havens and +harbors; antiquities and ruins; libraries; colleges, disputations, and +lectures, where any are; shipping and navies; houses and gardens of +state and pleasure, near great cities; armories; arsenals; magazines; +exchanges; burses; warehouses; exercises of horsemanship, fencing, +training of soldiers, and the like; comedies, such whereunto the better +sort of persons do resort; treasuries of jewels and robes; cabinets and +rarities: and, to conclude, whatsoever is memorable in the places where +they go. After all which the tutors or servants ought to make diligent +inquiry. As for triumphs, masks, feasts, weddings, funerals, capital +executions, and such shows, men need not to be put in mind of them: yet +are they not to be neglected. If you will have a young man to put his +travel into a little room, and in short time to gather much, this you +must do. First, as was said, he must have some entrance into the +language before he goeth. Then he must have such a servant or tutor as +knoweth the country, as was likewise said. Let him carry with him also +some card or book, describing the country where he traveleth, which will +be a good key to his inquiry. Let him keep also a diary. Let him not +stay long in one city or town; more or less as the place deserveth, but +not long: nay, when he stayeth in one city or town, let him change his +lodging from one end and part of the town to another; which is a great +adamant of acquaintance. Let him sequester himself from the company of +his countrymen, and diet in such places where there is good company of +the nation where he traveleth. Let him upon his removes from one place +to another, procure recommendation to some person of quality residing +in the place whither he removeth; that he may use his favor in those +things he desireth to see or know. Thus he may abridge his travel with +much profit. + +As for the acquaintance which is to be sought in travel: that which is +most of all profitable, is acquaintance with the secretaries and +employed men of ambassadors; for so in traveling in one country he shall +suck the experience of many. Let him also see and visit eminent persons +in all kinds, which are of great name abroad; that he may be able to +tell how the life agreeth with the fame. For quarrels, they are with +care and discretion to be avoided. They are commonly for mistresses, +healths, place, and words. And let a man beware how he keepeth company +with choleric and quarrelsome persons; for they will engage him into +their own quarrels. When a traveler returneth home, let him not leave +the countries where he hath traveled altogether behind him, but maintain +a correspondence by letters with those of his acquaintance which are of +most worth. And let his travel appear rather in his discourse than in +his apparel or gesture; and in his discourse let him be rather advised +in his answers, than forward to tell stories; and let it appear that he +doth not change his country manners for those of foreign parts; but only +prick in some flowers of that he hath learned abroad into the customs of +his own country. + + +OF FRIENDSHIP + +From the 'Essays' + +It had been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth and +untruth together in few words than in that speech, "Whosoever is +delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god." For it is most +true that a natural and secret hatred and aversion toward society in any +man hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most untrue that it +should have any character at all of the divine nature, except it +proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love and desire +to sequester a man's self for a higher conversation: such as is found to +have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen, as Epimenides +the Candian, Numa the Roman, Empedocles the Sicilian, and Apollonius of +Tyana; and truly and really in divers of the ancient hermits and holy +fathers of the Church. But little do men perceive what solitude is, and +how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company; and faces are but a +gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no +love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little: "Magna civitas, magna +solitudo;" because in a great town friends are scattered, so that there +is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in less +neighborhoods. But we may go further, and affirm most truly that it is a +mere and miserable solitude to want true friends, without which the +world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense also of solitude, +whosoever in the frame of his nature and affections is unfit for +friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity. + +A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and discharge of the +fullness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do +cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the +most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind. +You may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower +of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain: but no receipt +openeth the heart but a true friend; to whom you may impart griefs, +joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the +heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession. + +It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great kings and +monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship whereof we speak; so +great, as they purchase it many times at the hazard of their own safety +and greatness. For princes, in regard of the distance of their fortune +from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, +except (to make themselves capable thereof) they raise some persons to +be as it were companions and almost equals to themselves; which many +times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages give unto such +persons the name of favorites, or privadoes; as if it were matter of +grace or conversation. But the Roman name attaineth the true use and +cause thereof, naming them "participes curarum"; for it is that which +tieth the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been done, not by weak +and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that +ever reigned; who have oftentimes joined to themselves some of their +servants, whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed others +likewise to call them in the same manner, using the word which is +received between private men. + +L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pompey (after surnamed the +Great) to that height that Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's overmatch. +For when he had carried the consulship for a friend of his against the +pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little resent thereat, and began +to speak great, Pompey turned upon him again, and in effect bade him be +quiet; "for that more men adored the sun rising than the sun setting." +With Julius Caesar, Decimus Brutus had obtained that interest, as he set +him down in his testament for heir in remainder after his nephew; and +this was the man that had power with him to draw him forth to his death. +For when Caesar would have discharged the Senate in regard of some ill +presages, and specially a dream of Calpurnia, this man lifted him gently +by the arm out of his chair, telling him he hoped he would not dismiss +the Senate till his wife had dreamt a better dream. And it seemeth his +favor was so great as Antonius, in a letter which is recited verbatim in +one of Cicero's Philippics, calleth him "venefica"--"witch"; as if he +had enchanted Caesar. Augustus raised Agrippa (though of mean birth) to +that height as, when he consulted with Maecenas about the marriage of +his daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty to tell him, "that he must +either marry his daughter to Agrippa or take away his life: there was no +third way, he had made him so great." With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had +ascended to that height as they two were termed and reckoned as a pair +of friends. Tiberius in a letter to him saith, "Haec pro amicitia nostra +non occultavi" [these things, from our friendship, I have not concealed +from you]; and the whole Senate dedicated an altar to Friendship, as to +a goddess, in respect of the great dearness of friendship between them +two. The like, or more, was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus. +For he forced his eldest son to marry the daughter of Plautianus; and +would often maintain Plautianus in doing affronts to his son; and did +write also, in a letter to the Senate, by these words: "I love the man +so well, as I wish he may over-live me." Now, if these princes had been +as a Trajan or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that this had +proceeded of an abundant goodness of nature; but being men so wise, of +such strength and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves, +as all these were, it proveth most plainly that they found their own +felicity (though as great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an +half-piece, except they might have a friend to make it entire: and yet, +which is more, they were princes that had wives, sons, nephews; and yet +all these could not supply the comfort of friendship. + +It is not to be forgotten what Comineus observeth of his first master, +Duke Charles the Hardy; namely, that he would communicate his secrets +with none, and least of all those secrets which troubled him most. +Whereupon he goeth on and saith, that toward his latter time "that +closeness did impair and a little perish his understanding." Surely +Comineus mought have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him, +of his second master Louis the Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his +tormentor. The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true: "Cor ne +edito,"--"Eat not the heart." Certainly, if a man would give it a hard +phrase, those that want friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of +their own hearts. But one thing is most admirable (wherewith I will +conclude this first fruit of friendship), which is, that this +communicating of a man's self to his friend works two contrary effects; +for it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves. For there is no +man that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more; and +no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the +less. So that it is, in truth, of operation upon a man's mind of like +virtue as the alchymists use to attribute to their stone for man's body; +that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit +of nature. But yet without praying in aid of alchymists, there is a +manifest image of this in the ordinary course of nature: for in bodies, +union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action, and on the other +side, weakeneth and dulleth any violent impression; and even so it is +of minds. + +The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sovereign for the +understanding, as the first is for the affections. For friendship maketh +indeed a fair day in the affections, from storm and tempests, but it +maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness and confusion of +thoughts. Neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel, +which a man receiveth from his friend; but before you come to that, +certain it is that whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, +his wits and understanding do clarify and break up in the communicating +and discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he +marshaleth them more orderly; he seeth how they look when they are +turned into words; finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more +by an hour's discourse than by a day's meditation. It was well said by +Themistocles to the King of Persia, "That speech was like cloth of +Arras, opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figure: +whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs." Neither is this second +fruit of friendship, in opening the understanding, restrained only to +such friends as are able to give a man counsel (they indeed are best); +but even without that, a man learneth of himself, and bringeth his own +thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which +itself cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate himself to a statue +or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother. + +Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that other +point which lieth more open, and falleth within vulgar observation; +which is faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith well in one of +his enigmas, "Dry light is ever the best;" and certain it is, that the +light that a man receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and purer +than that which cometh from his own understanding and judgment; which is +ever infused and drenched in his affections and customs. So as there is +as much difference between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a +man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a +flatterer; for there is no such flatterer as is a man's self, and there +is no such remedy against flattery of a man's self as the liberty of a +friend. Counsel is of two sorts: the one concerning manners, the other +concerning business. For the first, the best preservative to keep the +mind in health is the faithful admonition of a friend. The calling of a +man's self to a strict account is a medicine sometimes too piercing and +corrosive; reading good books of morality is a little flat and dead; +observing our faults in others is sometimes improper for our case: but +the best receipt (best I say to work and best to take) is the admonition +of a friend. It is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and +extreme absurdities many (especially of the greater sort) do commit for +want of a friend to tell them of them, to the great damage both of their +fame and fortune: for, as St. James saith, they are as men "that look +sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their own shape and favor." +As for business, a man may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more +than one; or, that a gamester seeth always more than a looker-on; or, +that a man in anger is as wise as he that hath said over the +four-and-twenty letters; or, that a musket may be shot off as well upon +the arm as upon a rest; and such other fond and high imaginations, to +think himself all in all: but when all is done, the help of good counsel +is that which setteth business straight: and if any man think that he +will take counsel, but it shall be by pieces; asking counsel in one +business of one man, and in another business of another man, it is well +(that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he asked none at all); but he +runneth two dangers: one, that he shall not be faithfully counseled; for +it is a rare thing, except it be from a perfect and entire friend, to +have counsel given, but such as shall be bowed and crooked to some ends +which he hath that giveth it: the other, that he shall have counsel +given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good meaning), and mixed partly +of mischief, and partly of remedy; even as if you would call a +physician, that is thought good for the cure of the disease you complain +of, but is unacquainted with your body; and therefore may put you in a +way for a present cure, but overthroweth your health in some other kind, +and so cure the disease and kill the patient: but a friend that is +wholly acquainted with a man's estate will beware, by furthering any +present business, how he dasheth upon the other inconvenience. And +therefore, rest not upon scattered counsels: they will rather distract +and mislead, than settle and direct. + +After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the affections, and +support of the judgment), followeth the last fruit, which is like the +pomegranate, full of many kernels; I mean aid, and bearing a part in all +actions and occasions. Here the best way to represent to life the +manifold use of friendship, is to cast and see how many things there are +which a man cannot do himself: and then it will appear that it was a +sparing speech of the ancients to say, "that a friend is another +himself;" for that a friend is far more than himself. Men have their +time, and die many times in desire of some things which they principally +take to heart; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of a work, or the +like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure that the +care of those things will continue after him; so that a man hath, as it +were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a body, and that body is +confined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices of life are, +as it were, granted to him and his deputy; for he may exercise them by +his friend. How many things are there, which a man cannot, with any face +or comeliness, say or do himself; A man can scarce allege his own +merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man cannot sometimes brook +to supplicate, or beg, and a number of the like: but all these things +are graceful in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. So +again, a man's person hath many proper relations which he cannot put +off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; to his wife but as a +husband; to his enemy but upon terms: whereas a friend may speak as the +case requires, and not as it sorteth with the person: but to enumerate +these things were endless; I have given the rule, where a man cannot +fitly play his own part, if he have not a friend he may quit the stage. + + +DEFECTS OF THE UNIVERSITIES + +From 'The Advancement of Learning' (Book ii.) + +Amongst so many great foundations of colleges in Europe, I find it +strange that they are all dedicated to professions, and none left free +to arts and sciences at large. For if men judge that learning should be +referred to action, they judge well: but in this they fall into the +error described in the ancient fable, in which the other parts of the +body did suppose the stomach had been idle, because it neither performed +the office of motion, as the limbs do, nor of sense, as the head doth; +but yet notwithstanding it is the stomach that digesteth and +distributeth to all the rest. So if any man think philosophy and +universality to be idle studies, he doth not consider that all +professions are from thence served and supplied. And this I take to be a +great cause that hath hindered the progression of learning, because +these fundamental knowledges have been studied but in passage. For if +you will have a tree bear more fruit than it hath used to do, it is not +anything you can do to the boughs, but it is the stirring of the earth +and putting new mold about the roots that must work it. Neither is it to +be forgotten, that this dedicating of foundations and dotations to +professory learning hath not only had a malign aspect and influence upon +the growth of sciences, but hath also been prejudicial to States and +governments. For hence it proceedeth that princes find a solitude in +regard of able men to serve them in causes of estate, because there is +no education collegiate which is free; where such as were so disposed +mought give themselves to histories, modern languages, books of policy +and civil discourse, and other the like enablements unto service +of estate. + +And because founders of colleges do plant, and founders of lectures do +water, it followeth well in order to speak of the defect which is in +public lectures; namely, in the smallness and meanness of the salary or +reward which in most places is assigned unto them; whether they be +lectures of arts, or of professions For it is necessary to the +progression of sciences that readers be of the most able and sufficient +men; as those which are ordained for generating and propagating of +sciences, and not for transitory use. This cannot be, except their +condition and endowment be such as may content the ablest man to +appropriate his whole labor and continue his whole age in that function +and attendance; and therefore must have a proportion answerable to that +mediocrity or competency of advancement, which may be expected from a +profession or the practice of a profession. So as, if you will have +sciences flourish, you must observe David's military law, which was, +"That those which staid with the carriage should have equal part with +those which were in the action"; else will the carriages be ill +attended. So readers in sciences are indeed the guardians of the stores +and provisions of sciences whence men in active courses are furnished, +and therefore ought to have equal entertainment with them; otherwise if +the fathers in sciences be of the weakest sort or be ill maintained, + + "Et patrum invalidi referent jejunia nati:" + +[Weakness of parents will show in feebleness of offspring.] + +Another defect I note, wherein I shall need some alchemist to help me, +who call upon men to sell their books and to build furnaces; quitting +and forsaking Minerva and the Muses as barren virgins, and relying upon +Vulcan. But certain it is, that unto the deep, fruitful, and operative +study of many sciences, specially natural philosophy and physic, books +be not only the instrumentals; wherein also the beneficence of men hath +not been altogether wanting. For we see spheres, globes, astrolabes, +maps, and the like, have been provided as appurtenances to astronomy and +cosmography, as well as books. We see likewise that some places +instituted for physic have annexed the commodity of gardens for simples +of all sorts, and do likewise command the use of dead bodies for +anatomies. But these do respect but a few things. In general, there +will hardly be any main proficience in the disclosing of nature, except +there be some allowance for expenses about experiments; whether they be +experiments appertaining to Vulcanus or Daedalus, furnace or engine, or +any other kind. And therefore, as secretaries and spials of princes and +states bring in bills for intelligence, so you must allow the spials and +intelligencers of nature to bring in their bills; or else you shall be +ill advertised. + +And if Alexander made such a liberal assignation to Aristotle of +treasure for the allowance of hunters, fowlers, fishers, and the like, +that he mought compile an history of nature, much better do they deserve +it that travail in arts of nature. + +Another defect which I note, is an intermission or neglect in those +which are governors in universities of consultation, and in princes or +superior persons of visitation; to enter into account and consideration, +whether the readings, exercises, and other customs appertaining unto +learning, anciently begun and since continued, be well instituted or no; +and thereupon to ground an amendment or reformation in that which shall +be found inconvenient. For it is one of your Majesty's own most wise and +princely maxims, "that in all usages and precedents, the times be +considered wherein they first began; which if they were weak or +ignorant, it derogateth from the authority of the usage, and leaveth it +for suspect." And therefore inasmuch as most of the usages and orders of +the universities were derived from more obscure times, it is the more +requisite they be re-examined. In this kind I will give an instance or +two, for example's sake, of things that are the most obvious and +familiar. The one is a matter, which, though it be ancient and general, +yet I hold to be an error; which is, that scholars in universities come +too soon and too unripe to logic and rhetoric, arts fitter for graduates +than children and novices. For these two, rightly taken, are the gravest +of sciences, being the arts of arts; the one for judgment, the other for +ornament. And they be the rules and directions how to set forth and +dispose matter: and therefore for minds empty and unfraught with matter, +and which have not gathered that which Cicero calleth _sylva_ and +_supellex_, stuff and variety, to begin with those arts (as if one +should learn to weigh or to measure or to paint the wind) doth work but +this effect, that the wisdom of those arts, which is great and +universal, is almost made contemptible, and is degenerate into childish +sophistry and ridiculous affectation. And further, the untimely learning +of them hath drawn on by consequence the superficial and unprofitable +teaching and writing of them, as fitteth indeed to the capacity of +children. Another is a lack I find in the exercises used in the +universities, which do make too great a divorce between invention and +memory. For their speeches are either premeditate, in _verbis +conceptis_, where nothing is left to invention, or merely extemporal, +where little is left to memory; whereas in life and action there is +least use of either of these, but rather of intermixtures of +premeditation and invention, notes and memory. So as the exercise +fitteth not the practice, nor the image the life; and it is ever a true +rule in exercises, that they be framed as near as may be to the life of +practice; for otherwise they do pervert the motions and faculties of the +mind, and not prepare them. The truth whereof is not obscure, when +scholars come to the practices of professions, or other actions of civil +life; which when they set into, this want is soon found by themselves, +and sooner by others. But this part, touching the amendment of the +institutions and orders of universities, I will conclude with the clause +of Caesar's letter to Oppius and Balbus, "Hoc quem admodum fieri possit, +nonnulla mihi in mentem veniunt, et multa reperiri possunt: de iis rebus +rogo vos ut cogitationem suscipiatis." [How this may be done, some ways +come to my mind and many may be devised; I ask you to take these things +into consideration.] + +Another defect which I note ascendeth a little higher than the +precedent. For as the proficience of learning consisteth much in the +orders and institutions of universities in the same States and kingdoms, +so it would be yet more advanced, if there were more intelligence mutual +between the universities of Europe than now there is. We see there be +many orders and foundations, which though they be divided under several +sovereignties and territories, yet they take themselves to have a kind +of contract, fraternity, and correspondence one with the other, insomuch +as they have Provincials and Generals. And surely as nature createth +brotherhood in families, and arts mechanical contract brotherhoods in +communalties, and the anointment of God superinduceth a brotherhood in +kings and bishops; so in like manner there cannot but be a fraternity in +learning and illumination, relating to that paternity which is +attributed to God, who is called the Father of illuminations or lights. + +The last defect which I will note is, that there hath not been, or very +rarely been, any public designation of writers or inquirers concerning +such parts of knowledge as may appear not to have been already +sufficiently labored or undertaken; unto which point it is an inducement +to enter into a view and examination what parts of learning have been +prosecuted, and what omitted. For the opinion of plenty is amongst the +causes of want, and the great quantity of books maketh a show rather of +superfluity than lack; which surcharge nevertheless is not to be +remedied by making no more books, but by making more good books, which, +as the serpent of Moses, mought devour the serpents of the enchanters. + +The removing of all the defects formerly enumerated, except the last, +and of the active part also of the last (which is the designation of +writers), are _opera basilica_ [kings' works]; towards which the +endeavors of a private man may be but as an image in a cross-way, that +may point at the way, but cannot go it. But the inducing part of the +latter (which is the survey of learning) may be set forward by private +travail. Wherefore I will now attempt to make a general and faithful +perambulation of learning, with an inquiry what parts thereof lie fresh +and waste, and not improved and converted by the industry of man; to the +end that such a plot made and recorded to memory, may both minister +light to any public designation, and also serve to excite voluntary +endeavors. Wherein nevertheless my purpose is at this time to note only +omissions and deficiencies, and not to make any redargution of errors or +incomplete prosecutions. For it is one thing to set forth what ground +lieth unmanured, and another thing to correct ill husbandry in that +which is manured. + +In the handling and undertaking of which work I am not ignorant what it +is that I do now move and attempt, nor insensible of mine own weakness +to sustain my purpose. But my hope is, that if my extreme love to +learning carry me too far, I may obtain the excuse of affection; for +that "it is not granted to man to love and to be wise." But I know well +I can use no other liberty of judgment than I must leave to others; and +I, for my part, shall be indifferently glad either to perform myself, or +accept from another, that duty of humanity, "Nam qui erranti comiter +monstrat viam," etc. [To kindly show the wanderer the path.] I do +foresee likewise that of those things which I shall enter and register +as deficiencies and omissions, many will conceive and censure that some +of them are already done and extant; others to be but curiosities, and +things of no great use; and others to be of too great difficulty and +almost impossibility to be compassed and effected. But for the two +first, I refer myself to the particulars For the last, touching +impossibility, I take it those things are to be held possible which may +be done by some person, though not by every one; and which may be done +by many, though not by any one; and which may be done in the succession +of ages, though not within the hour-glass of one man's life; and which +may be done by public designation, though not by private endeavor. But +notwithstanding, if any man will take to himself rather that of Solomon, +"Dicit piger, Leo est in via" [the sluggard says there is a lion in the +path], than that of Virgil, "Possunt quia posse videntur" [they can, +because they think they can], I shall be content that my labors be +esteemed but as the better sort of wishes, for as it asketh some +knowledge to demand a question not impertinent, so it requireth some +sense to make a wish not absurd. + + +TO MY LORD TREASURER BURGHLEY + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +_My Lord:_ + +With as much confidence as mine own honest and faithful devotion unto +your service and your honorable correspondence unto me and my poor +estate can breed in a man, do I commend myself unto your Lordship. I wax +now somewhat ancient; one and thirty years is a great deal of sand in +the hour-glass. My health, I thank God, I find confirmed; and I do not +fear that action shall impair it, because I account my ordinary course +of study and meditation to be more painful than most parts of action +are. I ever bare a mind (in some middle place that I could discharge) to +serve her Majesty; not as a man born under Sol, that loveth honor; nor +under Jupiter, that loveth business (for the contemplative planet +carrieth me away wholly); but as a man born under an excellent +Sovereign, that deserveth the dedication of all men's abilities. +Besides, I do not find in myself so much self-love, but that the greater +parts of my thoughts are to deserve well (if I were able) of my friends, +and namely of your Lordship; who being the Atlas of this commonwealth, +the honor of my house, and the second founder of my poor estate, I am +tied by all duties, both of a good patriot and of an unworthy kinsman, +and of an obliged servant, to employ whatsoever I am to do you service. +Again, the meanness of my estate does somewhat move me; for though I +cannot excuse myself that I am either prodigal or slothful, yet my +health is not to spend, nor my course to get. Lastly, I confess that I +have as vast contemplative ends as I have moderate civil ends: for I +have taken all knowledge to be my province; and if I could purge it of +two sorts of rovers, whereof the one with frivolous disputations, +confutations, and verbosities, the other with blind experiments and +auricular traditions and impostures, hath committed so many spoils, I +hope I should bring in industrious observations, grounded conclusions, +and profitable inventions and discoveries; the best state of that +province. This, whether it be curiosity, or vain glory, or nature, or +(if one take it favorably) _philanthropia_, is so fixed in my mind as it +cannot be removed. And I do easily see, that place of any reasonable +countenance doth bring commandment of more wits than of a man's own; +which is the thing I greatly affect. And for your Lordship, perhaps you +shall not find more strength and less encounter in any other. And if +your Lordship shall find now, or at any time, that I do seek or affect +any place whereunto any that is nearer unto your Lordship shall be +concurrent, say then that I am a most dishonest man. And if your +Lordship will not carry me on, I will not do as Anaxagoras did, who +reduced himself with contemplation unto voluntary poverty: but this I +will do; I will sell the inheritance that I have, and purchase some +lease of quick revenue, or some office of gain that shall be executed by +deputy, and so give over all care of service, and become some sorry +book-maker, or a true pioneer in that mine of truth, which (he said) lay +so deep. This which I have writ unto your Lordship is rather thoughts +than words, being set down without all art, disguising, or reservation. +Wherein I have done honor both to your Lordship's wisdom, in judging +that that will be best believed of your Lordship which is truest, and to +your Lordship's good nature, in retaining nothing from you. And even so +I wish your Lordship all happiness, and to myself means and occasion to +be added to my faithful desire to do you service. From my lodging at +Gray's Inn. + + +IN PRAISE OF KNOWLEDGE + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +Silence were the best celebration of that which I mean to commend; for +who would not use silence, where silence is not made, and what crier can +make silence in such a noise and tumult of vain and popular opinions? + +My praise shall be dedicated to the mind itself. The mind is the man and +the knowledge of the mind. A man is but what he knoweth. The mind itself +is but an accident to knowledge; for knowledge is a double of that which +is; the truth of being and the truth of knowing is all one. + +Are not the pleasures of the affections greater than the pleasures of +the senses? And are not the pleasures of the intellect greater than the +pleasures of the affections? Is not knowledge a true and only natural +pleasure, whereof there is no satiety? Is it not knowledge that doth +alone clear the mind of all perturbation? How many things are there +which we imagine not? How many things do we esteem and value otherwise +than they are! This ill-proportioned estimation, these vain +imaginations, these be the clouds of error that turn into the storms of +perturbation. Is there any such happiness as for a man's mind to be +raised above the confusion of things, where he may have the prospect of +the order of nature and the error of men? + +But is this a vein only of delight, and not of discovery? of +contentment, and not of benefit? Shall he not as well discern the riches +of nature's warehouse, as the benefit of her shop? Is truth ever barren? +Shall he not be able thereby to produce worthy effects, and to endow the +life of man with infinite commodities? + +But shall I make this garland to be put upon a wrong head? Would anybody +believe me, if I should verify this upon the knowledge that is now in +use? Are we the richer by one poor invention, by reason of all the +learning that hath been these many hundred years? The industry of +artificers maketh some small improvement of things invented; and chance +sometimes in experimenting maketh us to stumble upon somewhat which is +new; but all the disputation of the learned never brought to light one +effect of nature before unknown. When things are known and found out, +then they can descant upon them, they can knit them into certain +causes, they can reduce them to their principles. If any instance of +experience stand against them, they can range it in order by some +distinctions. But all this is but a web of the wit, it can work nothing. +I do not doubt but that common notions, which we call reason, and the +knitting of them together, which we call logic, are the art of reason +and studies. But they rather cast obscurity than gain light to the +contemplation of nature. All the philosophy of nature which is now +received, is either the philosophy of the Grecians, or that other of the +Alchemists. That of the Grecians hath the foundations in words, in +ostentation, in confutation, in sects, in schools, in disputations. The +Grecians were (as one of themselves saith), "you Grecians, ever +children." They knew little antiquity; they knew (except fables) not +much above five hundred years before themselves; they knew but a small +portion of the world. That of the Alchemists hath the foundation in +imposture, in auricular traditions and obscurity; it was catching hold +of religion, but the principle of it is, "Populus vult decipi." So that +I know no great difference between these great philosophies, but that +the one is a loud-crying folly, and the other is a whispering folly. The +one is gathered out of a few vulgar observations, and the other out of a +few experiments of a furnace. The one never faileth to multiply words, +and the other ever faileth to multiply gold. Who would not smile at +Aristotle, when he admireth the eternity and invariableness of the +heavens, as there were not the like in the bowels of the earth? Those be +the confines and borders of these two kingdoms, where the continual +alteration and incursion are. The superficies and upper parts of the +earth are full of varieties. The superficies and lower part of the +heavens (which we call the middle region of the air) is full of variety. +There is much spirit in the one part that cannot be brought into mass. +There is much massy body in the other place that cannot be refined to +spirit. The common air is as the waste ground between the borders. Who +would not smile at the astronomers? I mean not these new carmen which +drive the earth about, but the ancient astronomers, which feign the moon +to be the swiftest of all planets in motion, and the rest in order, the +higher the slower; and so are compelled to imagine a double motion; +whereas how evident is it, that that which they call a contrary motion +is but an abatement of motion. The fixed stars overgo Saturn, and so in +them and the rest all is but one motion, and the nearer the earth the +slower; a motion also whereof air and water do participate, though much +interrupted. + +But why do I in a conference of pleasure enter into these great matters, +in sort that pretending to know much, I should forget what is +seasonable? Pardon me, it was because all [other] things may be endowed +and adorned with speeches, but knowledge itself is more beautiful than +any apparel of words that can be put upon it. + +And let not me seem arrogant, without respect to these great reputed +authors. Let me so give every man his due, as I give Time his due, which +is to discover truth. Many of these men had greater wits, far above mine +own, and so are many in the universities of Europe at this day. But +alas, they learn nothing there but to believe: first to believe that +others know that which they know not; and after [that] themselves know +that which they know not. But indeed facility to believe, impatience to +doubt, temerity to answer, glory to know, doubt to contradict, end to +gain, sloth to search, seeking things in words, resting in part of +nature; these, and the like, have been the things which have forbidden +the happy match between the mind of man and the nature of things, and in +place thereof have married it to vain notions and blind experiments. And +what the posterity and issue of so honorable a match may be, it is not +hard to consider. Printing, a gross invention; artillery, a thing that +lay not far out of the way; the needle, a thing partly known before; +what a change have these three made in the world in these times; the one +in state of learning, the other in state of the war, the third in the +state of treasure, commodities, and navigation. And those, I say, were +but stumbled upon and lighted upon by chance. Therefore, no doubt the +sovereignty of man lieth hid in knowledge; wherein many things are +reserved, which kings with their treasure cannot buy, nor with their +force command; their spials and intelligencers can give no news of them, +their seamen and discoverers cannot sail where they grow. Now we govern +nature in opinions, but we are thrall unto her in necessity; but if we +would be led by her in invention, we should command her in action. + + +TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR, TOUCHING THE HISTORY OF BRITAIN + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +_It may please your good Lordship:_ + +Some late act of his Majesty, referred to some former speech which I +have heard from your Lordship, bred in me a great desire, and by +strength of desire a boldness to make an humble proposition to your +Lordship, such as in me can be no better than a wish: but if your +Lordship should apprehend it, may take some good and worthy effect. The +act I speak of, is the order given by his Majesty, as I understand, for +the erection of a tomb or monument for our late sovereign Lady Queen +Elizabeth: wherein I may note much, but this at this time; that as her +Majesty did always right to his Highness's hopes, so his Majesty doth in +all things right to her memory; a very just and princely retribution. +But from this occasion, by a very easy ascent, I passed furder, being +put in mind, by this Representative of her person, of the more true and +more firm Representative, which is of her life and government. For as +Statuaes and Pictures are dumb histories, so histories are speaking +Pictures. Wherein if my affection be not too great, or my reading too +small, I am of this opinion, that if Plutarch were alive to write lives +by parallels, it would trouble him for virtue and fortune both to find +for her a parallel amongst women. And though she was of the passive sex, +yet her government was so active, as, in my simple opinion, it made more +impression upon the several states of Europe, than it received from +thence. But I confess unto your Lordship I could not stay here, but went +a little furder into the consideration of the times which have passed +since King Henry the 8th; wherein I find the strangest variety that in +like number of successions of any hereditary monarchy hath ever been +known. The reign of a child; the offer of an usurpation (though it were +but as a Diary Ague); the reign of a lady married to a foreign Prince; +and the reign of a lady solitary and unmarried. So that as it cometh to +pass in massive bodies, that they have certain trepidations and +waverings before they fix and settle; so it seemeth that by the +providence of God this monarchy, before it was to settle in his Majesty +and his generations (in which I hope it is now established for ever), it +had these prelusive changes in these barren princes. Neither could I +contain myself here (as it is easier to produce than to stay a wish), +but calling to remembrance the unworthiness of the history of England +(in the main continuance thereof), and the partiality and obliquity of +that of Scotland, in the latest and largest author that I have seen: I +conceived it would be honor for his Majesty, and a work very memorable, +if this island of Great Britain, as it is now joined in Monarchy for the +ages to come, so were joined in History for the times past; and that one +just and complete History were compiled of both nations. And if any man +think it may refresh the memory of former discords, he may satisfy +himself with the verse, "olim haec meminisse juvabit:" for the case +being now altered, it is matter of comfort and gratulation to remember +former troubles. + +Thus much, if it may please your Lordship, was in the optative mood. It +is true that I did look a little in the potential; wherein the hope +which I conceived was grounded upon three observations. The first, of +the times, which do flourish in learning, both of art and language; +which giveth hope not only that it may be done, but that it may be well +done. For when good things are undertaken in ill times, it turneth but +to loss; as in this very particular we have a fresh example of Polydore +Vergile, who being designed to write the English History by K. Henry the +8th (a strange choice to chuse a stranger), and for his better +instruction having obtained into his hands many registers and memorials +out of the monasteries, did indeed deface and suppress better things +than those he did collect and reduce. Secondly, I do see that which all +the world seeth in his Majesty, both a wonderful judgment in learning +and a singular affection towards learning, and the works of true honor +which are of the mind and not of the hand. For there cannot be the like +honor sought in the building of galleries, or the planting of elms along +highways, and the like manufactures, things rather of magnificence than +of magnanimity, as there is in the uniting of states, pacifying of +controversies, nourishing and augmenting of learning and arts, and the +particular actions appertaining unto these; of which kind Cicero judged +truly, when he said to Caesar, "Quantum operibus tuis detrahet vetustas, +tantum addet laudibus." And lastly, I called to mind, that your Lordship +at sometimes hath been pleased to express unto me a great desire, that +something of this nature should be performed; answerably indeed to your +other noble and worthy courses and actions, wherein your Lordship +sheweth yourself not only an excellent Chancellor and Counselor, but +also an exceeding favorer and fosterer of all good learning and virtue, +both in men and matters, persons and actions: joining and adding unto +the great services towards his Majesty, which have, in small compass of +time, been accumulated upon your Lordship, many other deservings both of +the Church and Commonwealth and particulars; so as the opinion of so +great and wise a man doth seem unto me a good warrant both of the +possibility and worth of this matter. But all this while I assure +myself, I cannot be mistaken by your Lordship, as if I sought an office +or employment for myself. For no man knoweth better than your Lordship, +that (if there were in me any faculty thereunto, as I am most unable), +yet neither my fortune nor profession would permit it. But because there +be so many good painters both for hand and colors, it needeth but +encouragement and instructions to give life and light unto it. + +So in all humbleness I conclude my presenting to your good Lordship this +wish: that if it perish it is but a loss of that which is not. And thus +craving pardon that I have taken so much time from your Lordship, I +always remain + + Your Lps. very humbly and much bounden + +FR. BACON. + +GRAY'S INN, this 2d of April, 1605. + + +TO VILLIERS ON HIS PATENT AS VISCOUNT + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +_Sir_: + +I have sent you now your patent of creation of Lord Blechly of Blechly, +and of Viscount Villiers. Blechly is your own, and I like the sound of +the name better than Whaddon; but the name will be hid, for you will be +called Viscount Villiers. I have put them both in a patent, after the +manner of the patents of Earls where baronies are joined; but the chief +reason was, because I would avoid double prefaces which had not been +fit; nevertheless the ceremony of robing and otherwise must be double. + +And now, because I am in the country, I will send you some of my country +fruits; which with me are good meditations; which when I am in the city +are choked with business. + +After that the King shall have watered your new dignities with his +bounty of the lands which he intends you, and that some other things +concerning your means which are now likewise in intention shall be +settled upon you; I do not see but you may think your private fortunes +established; and, therefore, it is now time that you should refer your +actions chiefly to the good of your sovereign and your country. It is +the life of an ox or beast always to eat, and never to exercise; but men +are born (and especially Christian men), not to cram in their fortunes, +but to exercise their virtues; and yet the other hath been the unworthy, +and (thanks be to God) sometimes the unlucky humor of great persons in +our times. Neither will your further fortune be the further off: for +assure yourself that fortune is of a woman's nature, that will sooner +follow you by slighting than by too much wooing. And in this dedication +of yourself to the public, I recommend unto you principally that which I +think was never done since I was born; and which not done hath bred +almost a wilderness and solitude in the King's service; which is, that +you countenance, and encourage, and advance able men and virtuous men, +and meriting men in all kinds, degrees, and professions. For in the time +of the Cecils, the father and the son, able men were by design and of +purpose suppressed; and though of late choice goeth better both in +church and commonwealth, yet money, and turn-serving, and cunning +canvasses, and importunity prevail too much. And in places of moment +rather make able and honest men yours, than advance those that are +otherwise because they are yours. As for cunning and corrupt men, you +must (I know) sometimes use them; but keep them at a distance; and let +it appear that you make use of them, rather than that they lead you. +Above all, depend wholly (next to God) upon the King; and be ruled (as +hitherto you have been) by his instructions; for that is best for +yourself. For the King's care and thoughts concerning you are according +to the thoughts of a great King; whereas your thoughts concerning +yourself are and ought to be according to the thoughts of a modest man. +But let me not weary you. The sum is that you think goodness the best +part of greatness; and that you remember whence your rising comes, and +make return accordingly. + +God ever keep you. + +GORHAMBURY, August 12th, 1616 + + +CHARGE TO JUSTICE HUTTON + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +_Mr. Serjeant Hutton_: + +The King's most excellent Majesty, being duly informed of your learning, +integrity, discretion, experience, means, and reputation in your +country, hath thought fit not to leave you these talents to be employed +upon yourself only, but to call you to serve himself and his people, in +the place of one of his Justices of the court of common pleas. + +The court where you are to serve, is the local centre and heart of the +laws of this realm. Here the subject hath his assurance by fines and +recoveries. Here he hath his fixed and invariable remedies by +_praecipes_ and writs of right. Here Justice opens not by a by-gate of +privilege, but by the great gate of the King's original writs out of the +Chancery. Here issues process of outlawry; if men will not answer law in +this centre of law, they shall be cast out of the circle of law. And +therefore it is proper for you by all means with your wisdom and +fortitude to maintain the laws of the realm. Wherein, nevertheless, I +would not have you head-strong, but heart-strong; and to weigh and +remember with yourself, that the twelve Judges of the realm are as the +twelve lions under Solomon's throne; they must be lions, but yet lions, +under the throne; they must shew their stoutness in elevating and +bearing up the throne. + + To represent unto you the lines and portraitures of a good + judge:--The first is, That you should draw your learning out + of your books, not out of your brain. + + 2. That you should mix well the freedom of your own opinion + with the reverence of the opinion of your fellows. + + 3. That you should continue the studying of your books, and + not to spend on upon the old stock. + + 4. That you should fear no man's face, and yet not turn + stoutness into bravery. + + 5. That you should be truly impartial, and not so as men may + see affection through fine carriage. + + 6. That you be a light to jurors to open their eyes, but not + a guide to lead them by the noses. + + 7. That you affect not the opinion of pregnancy and + expedition by an impatient and catching hearing of the + counselors at the bar. + + 8. That your speech be with gravity, as one of the sages of + the law; and not talkative, nor with impertinent flying out + to show learning. + + 9. That your hands, and the hands of your hands (I mean those + about you), be clean, and uncorrupt from gifts, from meddling + in titles, and from serving of turns, be they of great ones + or small ones. + + 10. That you contain the jurisdiction of the court within the + ancient merestones, without removing the mark. + + 11. Lastly, That you carry such a hand over your ministers + and clerks, as that they may rather be in awe of you, than + presume upon you. + +These and the like points of the duty of a Judge, I forbear to enlarge; +for the longer I have lived with you, the shorter shall my speech be to +you; knowing that you come so furnished and prepared with these good +virtues, as whatsoever I shall say cannot be new unto you. And therefore +I will say no more unto you at this time, but deliver you your patent. + + +A PRAYER, OR PSALM + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +Most gracious Lord God, my merciful Father, from my youth up, my +Creator, my Redeemer, my Comforter. Thou (O Lord) soundest and searchest +the depths and secrets of all hearts; thou knowledgest the upright of +heart, thou judgest the hypocrite, thou ponderest men's thoughts and +doings as in a balance, thou measurest their intentions as with a line, +vanity and crooked ways cannot be hid from thee. + +Remember (O Lord) how thy servant hath walked before thee: remember what +I have first sought, and what hath been principal in mine intentions. I +have loved thy assemblies, I have mourned for the divisions of thy +Church, I have delighted in the brightness of thy sanctuary. This vine +which thy right hand hath planted in this nation, I have ever prayed +unto thee that it might have the first and the latter rain; and that it +might stretch her branches to the seas and to the floods. The state and +bread of the poor and oppressed have been precious in mine eyes: I have +hated all cruelty and hardness of heart: I have (though in a despised +weed) procured the good of all men. If any have been mine enemies, I +thought not of them; neither hath the sun almost set upon my +displeasure; but I have been as a dove, free from superfluity of +maliciousness. Thy creatures have been my books, but thy Scriptures much +more. I have sought thee in the courts, fields, and gardens, but I have +found thee in thy temples. + +Thousands have been my sins, and ten thousand my transgressions; but thy +sanctifications have remained with me, and my heart, through thy grace, +hath been an unquenched coal upon thy altar. O Lord, my strength, I have +since my youth met with thee in all my ways, by thy fatherly +compassions, by thy comfortable chastisements, and by thy most visible +providence. As thy favors have increased upon me, so have thy +corrections; so as thou hast been alway near me, O Lord; and ever as my +worldly blessings were exalted, so secret darts from thee have pierced +me; and when I have ascended before men, I have descended in humiliation +before thee. + +And now when I thought most of peace and honor, thy hand is heavy upon +me, and hath humbled me, according to thy former loving-kindness, +keeping me still in thy fatherly school, not as a bastard, but as a +child. Just are thy judgments upon me for my sins, which are more in +number than the sands of the sea, but have no proportion to thy mercies; +for what are the sands of the sea, to the sea, earth, heavens? and all +these are nothing to thy mercies. + +Besides my innumerable sins, I confess before thee, that I am debtor to +thee for the gracious talent of thy gifts and graces which I have +neither put into a napkin, nor put it (as I ought) to exchangers, where +it might have made best profit; but mis-spent it in things for which I +was least fit; so as I may truly say, my soul hath been a stranger in +the course of my pilgrimage. Be merciful into me (O Lord) for my +Saviour's sake, and receive me unto thy bosom, or guide me in thy ways. + + +FROM THE 'APOPHTHEGMS' + +My Lo. of Essex, at the succor of Rhoan, made twenty-four knights, which +at that time was a great matter. Divers (7.) of those gentlemen were of +weak and small means; which when Queen Elizabeth heard, she said, "My +Lo. mought have done well to have built his alms-house before he made +his knights." + +21. Many men, especially such as affect gravity, have a manner after +other men's speech to shake their heads. Sir Lionel Cranfield would say, +"That it was as men shake a bottle, to see if there was any wit in their +head or no." + +33. Bias was sailing, and there fell out a great tempest, and the +mariners, that were wicked and dissolute fellows, called upon the gods; +but Bias said to them, "Peace, let them not know ye are here." + +42. There was a Bishop that was somewhat a delicate person, and bathed +twice a day. A friend of his said to him, "My lord, why do you bathe +twice a day?" The Bishop answered, "Because I cannot conveniently +bathe thrice." + +55. Queen Elizabeth was wont to say of her instructions to great +officers, "That they were like to garments, strait at the first putting +on, but did by and by wear loose enough." + +64. Sir Henry Wotton used to say, "That critics are like brushers of +noblemen's clothes." + +66. Mr. Savill was asked by my lord of Essex his opinion touching poets; +who answered my lord, "He thought them the best writers, next to those +that write prose." + +85. One was saying, "That his great-grandfather and grandfather and +father died at sea." Said another that heard him, "And I were as you, I +would never come at sea." "Why, (saith he) where did your +great-grandfather and grandfather and father die?" He answered, "Where +but in their beds." Saith the other, "And I were as you, I would never +come in bed." + +97. Alonso of Arragon was wont to say, in commendation of age, That age +appeared to be best in four things: "Old wood best to burn; old wine to +drink; old friends to trust; and old authors to read." + +119. One of the fathers saith, "That there is but this difference +between the death of old men and young men: that old men go to death, +and death comes to young men." + + + TRANSLATION OF THE 137TH PSALM + + From 'Works,' Vol. xiv. + + Whenas we sat all sad and desolate, + By Babylon upon the river's side, + Eased from the tasks which in our captive state + We were enforcèd daily to abide, + Our harps we had brought with us to the field, + Some solace to our heavy souls to yield. + + But soon we found we failed of our account, + For when our minds some freedom did obtain, + Straightways the memory of Sion Mount + Did cause afresh our wounds to bleed again; + So that with present gifts, and future fears, + Our eyes burst forth into a stream of tears. + + As for our harps, since sorrow struck them dumb, + We hanged them on the willow-trees were near; + Yet did our cruel masters to us come, + Asking of us some Hebrew songs to hear: + Taunting us rather in our misery, + Than much delighting in our melody. + + Alas (said we) who can once force or frame + His grievèd and oppressèd heart to sing + The praises of Jehovah's glorious name, + In banishment, under a foreign king? + In Sion is his seat and dwelling-place, + Thence doth he shew the brightness of his face. + + Hierusalem, where God his throne hath set, + Shall any hour absent thee from my mind? + Then let my right hand quite her skill forget, + Then let my voice and words no passage find; + Nay, if I do not thee prefer in all + That in the compass of my thoughts can fall. + + Remember thou, O Lord, the cruel cry + Of Edom's children, which did ring and sound, + Inciting the Chaldean's cruelty, + "Down with it, down with it, even unto the ground." + In that good day repay it unto them, + When thou shalt visit thy Hierusalem. + + And thou, O Babylon, shalt have thy turn + By just revenge, and happy shall he be, + That thy proud walls and towers shall waste and burn, + And as thou didst by us, so do by thee. + Yea, happy he that takes thy children's bones, + And dasheth them against the pavement stones. + + + THE WORLD'S A BUBBLE + + From 'Works,' Vol. xiv. + + The world's a bubble, and the life of man + less than a span; + In his conception wretched, from the womb + so to the tomb: + Curst from the cradle, and brought up to years + with cares and fears. + Who then to frail mortality shall trust, + But limns the water, or but writes in dust. + + Yet since with sorrow here we live opprest, + what life is best? + Courts are but only superficial schools + to dandle fools. + The rural parts are turned into a den + of savage men. + And where's the city from all vice so free, + But may be termed the worst of all the three? + + Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, + or pains his head. + Those that live single take it for a curse, + or do things worse. + Some would have children; those that have them moan, + or wish them gone. + What is it then to have or have no wife, + But single thraldom, or a double strife? + + Our own affections still at home to please + is a disease: + To cross the seas to any foreign soil + perils and toil. + Wars with their noise affright us: when they cease, + we are worse in peace. + What then remains, but that we still should cry + Not to be born, or being born to die. + + + + +WALTER BAGEHOT + +(1826-1877) + +BY FORREST MORGAN + + +Walter Bagehot was born February 3d, 1826, at Langport, Somersetshire, +England; and died there March 24th, 1877. He sprang on both sides from, +and was reared in, a nest of wealthy bankers and ardent Liberals, +steeped in political history and with London country houses where +leaders of thought and politics resorted; and his mother's +brother-in-law was Dr. Prichard the ethnologist. This heredity, +progressive by disposition and conservative by trade, and this +entourage, produced naturally enough a mind at once rapid of insight and +cautious of judgment, devoted almost equally to business action and +intellectual speculation, and on its speculative side turned toward the +fields of political history and sociology. + +[Illustration: WALTER BAGEHOT] + +But there were equally important elements not traceable. His freshness +of mental vision, the strikingly novel points of view from which he +looked at every subject, was marvelous even in a century so fertile of +varied independences: he complained that "the most galling of yokes is +the tyranny of your next-door neighbor," the obligation of thinking as +he thinks. He had a keen, almost reckless wit and delicious buoyant +humor, whose utterances never pall by repetition; few authors so abound +in tenaciously quotable phrases and passages of humorous +intellectuality. What is rarely found in connection with much humor, he +had a sensitive dreaminess of nature, strongly poetic in feeling, whence +resulted a large appreciation of the subtler classes of poetry; of which +he was an acute and sympathizing critic. As part of this temperament, he +had a strong bent toward mysticism,--in one essay he says flatly that +"mysticism is true,"--which gave him a rare insight into the religious +nature and some obscure problems of religious history; though he was too +cool, scientific, and humorous to be a great theologian. + +Above all, he had that instinct of selective art, in felicity of words +and salience of ideas, which elevates writing into literature; which +long after a thought has merged its being and use in those of wider +scope, keeps it in separate remembrance and retains for its creator his +due of credit through the artistic charm of the shape he gave it. + +The result of a mixture of traits popularly thought incompatible, and +usually so in reality,--a great relish for the driest business facts and +a creative literary gift,--was absolutely unique. Bagehot explains the +general sterility of literature as a guide to life by the fact that "so +few people who can write know anything;" and began a reform in his own +person, by applying all his highest faculties--the best not only of his +thought but of his imagination and his literary skill--to the theme of +his daily work, banking and business affairs and political economy. +There have been many men of letters who were excellent business men and +hard bargainers, sometimes indeed merchants or bankers, but they have +held their literature as far as possible off the plane of their +bread-winning; they have not used it to explain and decorate the latter +and made that the motive of art. Bagehot loved business not alone as the +born trader loves it, for its profit and its gratification of innate +likings,--"business is really pleasanter than pleasure, though it does +not look so," he says in substance,--but as an artist loves a +picturesque situation or a journalist a murder; it pleased his literary +sense as material for analysis and composition. He had in a high degree +that union of the practical and the musing faculties which in its (as +yet) highest degree made Shakespeare; but even Shakespeare did not write +dramas on how to make theatres pay, or sonnets on real-estate +speculation. + +Bagehot's career was determined, as usual, partly by character and +partly by circumstances. He graduated at London University in 1848, and +studied for and was called to the bar; but his father owned an interest +in a rich old provincial bank and a good shipping-business, and instead +of the law he joined in their conduct. He had just before, however, +passed a few months in France, including the time of Louis Napoleon's +_coup d'état_ in December, 1851; and from Paris he wrote to the London +Inquirer (a Unitarian weekly) a remarkable series of letters on that +event and its immediate sequents, defending the usurpation vigorously +and outlining his political creed, from whose main lines he swerved but +little in after life. Waiving the question whether the defense was +valid,--and like all first-rate minds, Bagehot is even more instructive +when he is wrong than when he is right, because the wrong is sure to be +almost right and the truth on its side neglected,--the letters are full +of fresh, acute, and even profound ideas, sharp exposition of those +primary objects of government which demagogues and buncombe legislators +ignore, racy wit, sarcasm, and description (in one passage he rises for +a moment into really blood-stirring rhetoric), and proofs of his +capacity thus early for reducing the confused cross-currents of daily +life to the operation of great embracing laws. No other writing of a +youth of twenty-five on such subjects--or almost none--is worth +remembering at all for its matter; while this is perennially wholesome +and educative, as well as capital reading. + +From this on he devoted most of his spare time to literature: that he +found so much spare time, and produced so much of a high grade while +winning respect as a business manager, proves the excellent quality of +his business brain. He was one of the editors of the National Review, a +very able and readable English quarterly, from its foundation in 1854 to +its death in 1863, and wrote for it twenty literary, biographical, and +theological papers, which are among his best titles to enduring +remembrance, and are full of his choicest flavors, his wealth of +thought, fun, poetic sensitiveness, and deep religious feeling of the +needs of human nature. Previous to this, he had written some good +articles for the Prospective Review, and he wrote some afterwards for +the Fortnightly Review (including the series afterwards gathered into +'Physics and Politics'), and other periodicals. + +But his chief industry and most peculiar work was determined by his +marriage in 1858 to the daughter of James Wilson, an ex-merchant who had +founded the Economist as a journal of trade, banking, and investment, +and made it prosperous and rather influential. Mr. Wilson was engaging +in politics, where he rose to high office and would probably have ended +in the Cabinet; but being sent to India to regulate its finances, died +there in 1860. Bagehot thereupon took control of the paper, and _was_ +the paper until his death in 1877; and the position he gave it was as +unique as his own. On banking, finance, taxation, and political economy +in general his utterances had such weight that Chancellors of the +Exchequer consulted him as to the revenues, and the London business +world eagerly studied the paper for guidance. But he went far beyond +this, and made it an unexampled force in politics and governmental +science, personal to himself. For the first time a great political +thinker applied his mind week by week to discussing the problems +presented by passing politics, and expounding the drift and meaning of +current events in his nation and the others which bore closest on it, as +France and America. That he gained such a hearing was due not alone to +his immense ability, and to a style carefully modeled on the +conversation of business men with each other, but to his cool moderation +and evident aloofness from party as party. He dissected each like a man +of science: party was to him a tool and not a religion. He gibed at the +Tories; but the Tories forgave him because he was half a Tory at +heart,--he utterly distrusted popular instincts and was afraid of +popular ignorance. He was rarely warm for the actual measures of the +Liberals; but the Liberals knew that he intensely despised the +pig-headed obstructiveness of the typical Tory, and had no kinship with +the blind worshipers of the _status quo_. To natives and foreigners +alike for many years the paper was single and invaluable: in it one +could find set forth acutely and dispassionately the broad facts and the +real purport of all great legislative proposals, free from the rant and +mendacity, the fury and distortion, the prejudice and counter-prejudice +of the party press. + +An outgrowth of his treble position as banker, economic writer, and +general littérateur, was his charming book 'Lombard Street.' Most +writers know nothing about business, he sets forth, most business men +cannot write, therefore most writing about business is either unreadable +or untrue: he put all his literary gifts at its service, and produced a +book as instructive as a trade manual and more delightful than most +novels. Its luminous, easy, half-playful "business talk" is irresistibly +captivating. It is a description and analysis of the London money market +and its component parts,--the Bank of England, the joint-stock banks, +the private banks, and the bill-brokers. It will live, however, as +literature and as a picture, not as a banker's guide; as the vividest +outline of business London, of the "great commerce" and the fabric of +credit which is the basis of modern civilization and of which London is +the centre, that the world has ever known. + +Previous to this, the most widely known of his works--'The English +Constitution,' much used as a text-book--had made a new epoch in +political analysis, and placed him among the foremost thinkers and +writers of his time. Not only did it revolutionize the accepted mode of +viewing that governmental structure, but as a treatise on government in +general its novel types of classification are now admitted commonplaces. +Besides its main themes, the book is a great store of thought and +suggestion on government, society, and human nature,--for as in all his +works, he pours on his nominal subject a flood of illumination and +analogy from the unlikeliest sources; and a piece of eminently +pleasurable reading from end to end. Its basic novelty lay in what seems +the most natural of inquiries, but which in fact was left for Bagehot's +original mind even to think of,--the actual working of the governmental +system in practice, as distinguished from legal theory. The result of +this novel analysis was startling: old powers and checks went to the +rubbish heap, and a wholly new set of machinery and even new springs of +force and life were substituted. He argued that the actual use of the +English monarchy is not to do the work of government, but through its +roots in the past to gain popular loyalty and support for the real +government, which the masses would not obey if they realized its +genuine nature; that "it raises the army though it does not win the +battle." He showed that the function of the House of Peers is not as a +co-ordinate power with the Commons (which is the real government), but +as a revising body and an index of the strength of popular feeling. +Constitutional governments he divides into Cabinet, where the people can +change the government at any time, and therefore follow its acts and +debates eagerly and instructedly; and Presidential, where they can only +change it at fixed terms, and are therefore apathetic and ill-informed +and care little for speeches which can effect nothing. + +Just before 'Lombard Street' came his scientific masterpiece, 'Physics +and Politics'; a work which does for human society what the 'Origin of +Species' does for organic life, expounding its method of progress from +very low if not the lowest forms to higher ones. Indeed, one of its main +lines is only a special application of Darwin's "natural selection" to +societies, noting the survival of the strongest (which implies in the +long run the best developed in all virtues that make for social +cohesion) through conflict; but the book is so much more than that, in +spite of its heavy debt to all scientific and institutional research, +that it remains a first-rate feat of original constructive thought. It +is the more striking from its almost ludicrous brevity compared with the +novelty, variety, and pregnancy of its ideas. It is scarcely more than a +pamphlet; one can read it through in an evening: yet there is hardly any +book which is a master-key to so many historical locks, so useful a +standard for referring scattered sociological facts to, so clarifying to +the mind in the study of early history. The work is strewn with fertile +and suggestive observations from many branches of knowledge. Its leading +idea of the needs and difficulties of early societies is given in one of +the citations. + +The unfinished 'Economic Studies' are partially a re-survey of the same +ground on a more limited scale, and contain in addition a mass of the +nicest and shrewdest observations on modern trade and society, full of +truth and suggestiveness. All the other books printed under his name are +collections either from the Economist or from outside publications. + +As a thinker, Bagehot's leading positions may be roughly summarized +thus: in history, that reasoning from the present to the past is +generally wrong and frequently nonsense; in politics, that abstract +systems are foolish, that a government which does not benefit its +subjects has no rights against one that will, that the masses had much +better let the upper ranks do the governing than meddle with it +themselves, that all classes are too eager to act without thinking and +ought not to attempt so much; in society, that democracy is an evil +because it leaves no specially trained upper class to furnish models +for refinement. But there is vastly more besides this, and his value +lies much more in the mental clarification afforded by his details than +in the new principles of action afforded by his generalizations. He +leaves men saner, soberer, juster, with a clearer sense of perspective, +of real issues, that more than makes up for a slight diminution of zeal. + +As pure literature, the most individual trait in his writings sprang +from his scorn of mere word-mongering divorced from actual life. "A man +ought to have the right of being a Philistine if he chooses," he tells +us: "there is a sickly incompleteness in men too fine for the world and +too nice to work their way through it." A great man of letters, no one +has ever mocked his craft so persistently. A great thinker, he never +tired of humorously magnifying the active and belittling the +intellectual temperament. Of course it was only half-serious: he admits +the force and utility of colossal visionaries like Shelley, constructive +scholars like Gibbon, ascetic artists like Milton, even light dreamers +like Hartley Coleridge; indeed, intellectually he appreciates all +intellectual force, and scorns feeble thought which has the effrontery +to show itself, and those who are "cross with the agony of a new idea." +But his heart goes out to the unscholarly Cavalier with his dash and his +loyalty, to the county member who "hardly reads two books per +existence," and even to the rustic who sticks to his old ideas and whom +"it takes seven weeks to comprehend an atom of a new one." A petty +surface consistency must not be exacted from the miscellaneous +utterances of a humorist: all sorts of complementary half-truths are +part of his service. His own quite just conception of humor, as meaning +merely full vision and balanced judgment, is his best defense: "when a +man has attained the deep conception that there is such a thing as +nonsense," he says, "you may be sure of him for ever after." At bottom +he is thoroughly consistent: holding that the masses should work in +contented deference to their intellectual guides, but those guides +should qualify themselves by practical experience of life, that poetry +is not an amusement for lazy sybarites but the most elevating of +spiritual influences, that religions cut the roots of their power by +trying to avoid supernaturalism and cultivate intelligibility, and that +the animal basis of human life is a screen expressly devised to shut off +direct knowledge of God and make character possible. + +To make his acquaintance first is to enter upon a store of high and fine +enjoyment, and of strong and vivifying thought, which one must be either +very rich of attainment or very feeble of grasp to find unprofitable or +pleasureless. + + +THE VIRTUES OF STUPIDITY + +From 'Letters on the French Coup d'État' + +I fear you will laugh when I tell you what I conceive to be about the +most essential mental quality for a free people whose liberty is to be +progressive, permanent, and on a large scale: it is much stupidity. Not +to begin by wounding any present susceptibilities, let me take the Roman +character; for with one great exception,--I need not say to whom I +allude,--they are the great political people of history. Now, is not a +certain dullness their most visible characteristic? What is the history +of their speculative mind? a blank; what their literature? a copy. They +have left not a single discovery in any abstract science, not a single +perfect or well-formed work of high imagination. The Greeks, the +perfection of human and accomplished genius, bequeathed to mankind the +ideal forms of self-idolizing art, the Romans imitated and admired; the +Greeks explained the laws of nature, the Romans wondered and despised; +the Greeks invented a system of numerals second only to that now in use, +the Romans counted to the end of their days with the clumsy apparatus +which we still call by their name; the Greeks made a capital and +scientific calendar, the Romans began their month when the Pontifex +Maximus happened to spy out the new moon. Throughout Latin literature, +this is the perpetual puzzle:--Why are we free and they slaves, we +praetors and they barbers? why do the stupid people always win and the +clever people always lose? I need not say that in real sound stupidity +the English are unrivaled: you'll hear more wit and better wit in an +Irish street row than would keep Westminster Hall in humor for +five weeks. + + * * * * * + +In fact, what we opprobriously call "stupidity," though not an +enlivening quality in common society, is nature's favorite resource for +preserving steadiness of conduct and consistency of opinion; it enforces +concentration: people who learn slowly, learn only what they must. The +best security for people's doing their duty is, that they should not +know anything else to do; the best security for fixedness of opinion is, +that people should be incapable of comprehending what is to be said on +the other side. These valuable truths are no discoveries of mine: they +are familiar enough to people whose business it is to know them. Hear +what a douce and aged attorney says of your peculiarly promising +barrister:--"Sharp? Oh, yes! he's too sharp by half. He is not _safe_, +not a minute, isn't that young man." I extend this, and advisedly +maintain that nations, just as individuals, may be too clever to be +practical and not dull enough to be free.... + +And what I call a proper stupidity keeps a man from all the defects of +this character: it chains the gifted possessor mainly to his old ideas, +it takes him seven weeks to comprehend an atom of a new one; it keeps +him from being led away by new theories, for there is nothing which +bores him so much; it restrains him within his old pursuits, his +well-known habits, his tried expedients, his verified conclusions, his +traditional beliefs. He is not tempted to levity or impatience, for he +does not see the joke and is thick-skinned to present evils. +Inconsistency puts him out: "What I says is this here, as I was a-saying +yesterday," is his notion of historical eloquence and habitual +discretion. He is very slow indeed to be excited,--his passions, his +feelings, and his affections are dull and tardy strong things, falling +in a certain known direction, fixed on certain known objects, and for +the most part acting in a moderate degree and at a sluggish pace. You +always know where to find his mind. Now, this is exactly what (in +politics at least) you do not know about a Frenchman. + + +REVIEW WRITING + +From 'The First Edinburgh Reviewers' + +Review writing exemplifies the casual character of modern literature: +everything about it is temporary and fragmentary. Look at a railway +stall: you see books of every color,--blue, yellow, crimson, +"ring-streaked, speckled, and spotted,"--on every subject, in every +style, of every opinion, with every conceivable difference, celestial or +sublunary, maleficent, beneficent--but all small. People take their +literature in morsels, as they take sandwiches on a journey.... + +And the change in appearance of books has been accompanied--has been +caused--by a similar change in readers. What a transition from the +student of former ages! from a grave man with grave cheeks and a +considerate eye, who spends his life in study, has no interest in the +outward world, hears nothing of its din and cares nothing for its +honors, who would gladly learn and gladly teach, whose whole soul is +taken up with a few books of 'Aristotle and his Philosophy,'--to the +merchant in the railway, with a head full of sums, an idea that tallow +is "up," a conviction that teas are "lively," and a mind reverting +perpetually from the little volume which he reads to these mundane +topics, to the railway, to the shares, to the buying and bargaining +universe. We must not wonder that the outside of books is so different, +when the inner nature of those for whom they are written is so changed. + +In this transition from ancient writing to modern, the review-like essay +and the essay-like review fill a large space. Their small bulk, their +slight pretension to systematic completeness,--their avowal, it might be +said, of necessary incompleteness,--the facility of changing the +subject, of selecting points to attack, of exposing only the best corner +for defense, are great temptations. Still greater is the advantage of +"our limits." A real reviewer always spends his first and best pages on +the parts of a subject on which he wishes to write, the easy comfortable +parts which he knows. The formidable difficulties which he acknowledges, +you foresee by a strange fatality that he will only reach two pages +before the end; to his great grief, there is no opportunity for +discussing them. As a young gentleman at the India House examination +wrote "Time up" on nine unfinished papers in succession, so you may +occasionally read a whole review, in every article of which the +principal difficulty of each successive question is about to be reached +at the conclusion. Nor can any one deny that this is the suitable skill, +the judicious custom of the craft. + + +LORD ELDON + +From 'The First Edinburgh Reviewers' + +As for Lord Eldon, it is the most difficult thing in the world to +believe that there ever was such a man; it only shows how intense +historical evidence is, that no one really doubts it. He believed in +everything which it is impossible to believe in,--in the danger of +Parliamentary Reform, the danger of Catholic Emancipation, the danger of +altering the Court of Chancery, the danger of altering the courts of +law, the danger of abolishing capital punishment for trivial thefts, +the danger of making land-owners pay their debts, the danger of making +anything more, the danger of making anything less. It seems as if he +maturely thought, "Now, I know the present state of things to be +consistent with the existence of John Lord Eldon; but if we begin +altering that state, I am sure I do not know that it will be +consistent." As Sir Robert Walpole was against all committees of inquiry +on the simple ground, "If they once begin that sort of thing, who knows +who will be safe?" so that great Chancellor (still remembered in his own +scene) looked pleasantly down from the woolsack, and seemed to observe, +"Well, it _is_ a queer thing that I should be here, and here I mean +to stay." + + +TASTE + +From 'Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning' + +There is a most formidable and estimable _insane_ taste. The will has +great though indirect power over the taste, just as it has over the +belief. There are some horrid beliefs from which human nature revolts, +from which at first it shrinks, to which at first no effort can force +it. But if we fix the mind upon them, they have a power over us, just +because of their natural offensiveness. They are like the sight of human +blood. Experienced soldiers tell us that at first, men are sickened by +the smell and newness of blood, almost to death and fainting; but that +as soon as they harden their hearts and stiffen their minds, as soon as +they _will_ bear it, then comes an appetite for slaughter, a tendency to +gloat on carnage, to love blood (at least for the moment) with a deep, +eager love. It is a principle that if we put down a healthy instinctive +aversion, nature avenges herself by creating an unhealthy insane +attraction. For this reason, the most earnest truth-seeking men fall +into the worst delusions. They will not let their mind alone; they force +it toward some ugly thing, which a crotchet of argument, a conceit of +intellect recommends: and nature punishes their disregard of her warning +by subjection to the ugly one, by belief in it. Just so, the most +industrious critics get the most admiration. They think it unjust to +rest in their instinctive natural horror; they overcome it, and angry +nature gives them over to ugly poems and marries them to +detestable stanzas. + + +CAUSES OF THE STERILITY OF LITERATURE + +From 'Shakespeare, the Man,' etc. + +The reason why so few good books are written is, that so few people that +can write know anything. In general, an author has always lived in a +room, has read books, has cultivated science, is acquainted with the +style and sentiments of the best authors, but he is out of the way of +employing his own eyes and ears. He has nothing to hear and nothing to +see. His life is a vacuum. The mental habits of Robert Southey, which +about a year ago were so extensively praised in the public journals, are +the type of literary existence, just as the praise bestowed on them +shows the admiration excited by them among literary people. He wrote +poetry (as if anybody could) before breakfast; he read during breakfast. +He wrote history until dinner; he corrected proof-sheets between dinner +and tea; he wrote an essay for the Quarterly afterwards; and after +supper, by way of relaxation, composed 'The Doctor'--a lengthy and +elaborate jest. Now, what can any one think of such a life?--except how +clearly it shows that the habits best fitted for communicating +information, formed with the best care, and daily regulated by the best +motives, are exactly the habits which are likely to afford a man the +least information to communicate. Southey had no events, no experiences. +His wife kept house and allowed him pocket-money, just as if he had been +a German professor devoted to accents, tobacco, and the dates of +Horace's amours.... + +The critic in the 'Vicar of Wakefield' lays down that you should +_always_ say that the picture would have been better if the painter had +taken more pains; but in the case of the practiced literary man, you +should often enough say that the writings would have been much better if +the writer had taken less pains. He says he has devoted his life to the +subject; the reply is, "Then you have taken the best way to prevent your +making anything of it. Instead of reading studiously what Burgersdicius +and Aenesidemus said men were, you should have gone out yourself and +seen (if you can see) what they are." But there is a whole class of +minds which prefer the literary delineation of objects to the actual +eyesight of them. Such a man would naturally think literature more +instructive than life. Hazlitt said of Mackintosh, "He might like to +read an _account_ of India; but India itself, with its burning, shining +face, would be a mere blank, an endless waste to him. Persons of this +class have no more to say to a matter of fact staring them in the face, +without a label in its mouth, than they would to a hippopotamus."... + +After all, the original way of writing books may turn out to be the +best. The first author, it is plain, could not have taken anything from +books, since there were no books for him to copy from; he looked at +things for himself. Anyhow the modern system fails, for where are the +amusing books from voracious students and habitual writers? + +Moreover, in general, it will perhaps be found that persons devoted to +mere literature commonly become devoted to mere idleness. They wish to +produce a great work, but they find they cannot. Having relinquished +everything to devote themselves to this, they conclude on trial that +this is impossible; they wish to write, but nothing occurs to them: +therefore they write nothing and they do nothing. As has been said, they +have nothing to do; their life has no events, unless they are very poor; +with any decent means of subsistence, they have nothing to rouse them +from an indolent and musing dream. A merchant must meet his bills, or he +is civilly dead and uncivilly remembered; but a student may know nothing +of time, and be too lazy to wind lip his watch. + + +THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS + +From 'William Cowper' + +If there be any truly painful fact about the world now tolerably well +established by ample experience and ample records, it is that an +intellectual and indolent happiness is wholly denied to the children of +men. That most valuable author, Lucretius, who has supplied us and +others with an almost inexhaustible supply of metaphors on this topic, +ever dwells on the life of his gods with a sad and melancholy feeling +that no such life was possible on a crude and cumbersome earth. In +general, the two opposing agencies are marriage and lack of money; +either of these breaks the lot of literary and refined inaction at once +and forever. The first of these, as we have seen, Cowper had escaped; +his reserved and negligent reveries were still free, at least from the +invasion of affection. To this invasion, indeed, there is commonly +requisite the acquiescence or connivance of mortality; but all men are +born--not free and equal, as the Americans maintain, but, in the Old +World at least--basely subjected to the yoke of coin. It is in vain that +in this hemisphere we endeavor after impecuniary fancies. In bold and +eager youth we go out on our travels: we visit Baalbec and Paphos and +Tadmor and Cythera,--ancient shrines and ancient empires, seats of eager +love or gentle inspiration; we wander far and long; we have nothing to +do with our fellow-men,--what are we, indeed, to diggers and counters? +we wander far, we dream to wander forever--but we dream in vain. A surer +force than the subtlest fascination of fancy is in operation; the +purse-strings tie us to our kind. Our travel coin runs low, and we must +return, away from Tadmor and Baalbec, back to our steady, tedious +industry and dull work, to "la vieille Europe" (as Napoleon said), "qui +m'ennuie." It is the same in thought: in vain we seclude ourselves in +elegant chambers, in fascinating fancies, in refined reflections. + + +ON EARLY READING + +From 'Edward Gibbon' + +In school work Gibbon had uncommon difficulties and unusual +deficiencies; but these were much more than counterbalanced by a habit +which often accompanies a sickly childhood, and is the commencement of a +studious life,--the habit of desultory reading. The instructiveness of +this is sometimes not comprehended. S. T. Coleridge used to say that he +felt a great superiority over those who had not read--and fondly +read--fairy tales in their childhood: he thought they wanted a sense +which he possessed, the perception, or apperception--we do not know +which he used to say it was--of the unity and wholeness of the universe. +As to fairy tales, this is a hard saying; but as to desultory reading, +it is certainly true. Some people have known a time in life when there +was no book they could not read. The fact of its being a book went +immensely in its favor. In early life there is an opinion that the +obvious thing to do with a horse is to ride it; with a cake, to eat it; +with sixpence, to spend it. A few boys carry this further, and think +the natural thing to do with a book is to read it. There is an argument +from design in the subject: if the book was not meant for that purpose, +for what purpose was it meant? Of course, of any understanding of the +works so perused there is no question or idea. There is a legend of +Bentham, in his earliest childhood, climbing to the height of a huge +stool, and sitting there evening after evening, with two candles, +engaged in the perusal of Rapin's history; it might as well have been +any other book. The doctrine of utility had not then dawned on its +immortal teacher; _cui bono_ was an idea unknown to him. He would have +been ready to read about Egypt, about Spain, about coals in Borneo, the +teak-wood in India, the current in the River Mississippi, on natural +history or human history, on theology or morals, on the state of the +Dark Ages or the state of the Light Ages, on Augustulus or Lord Chatham, +on the first century or the seventeenth, on the moon, the millennium, or +the whole duty of man. Just then, reading is an end in itself. At that +time of life you no more think of a future consequence--of the remote, +the very remote possibility of deriving knowledge from the perusal of a +book, than you expect so great a result from spinning a peg-top. You +spin the top, and you read the book; and these scenes of life are +exhausted. In such studies, of all prose, perhaps the best is history: +one page is so like another, battle No. 1 is so much on a par with +battle No. 2. Truth may be, as they say, stranger than fiction, +abstractedly; but in actual books, novels are certainly odder and more +astounding than correct history. + +It will be said, What is the use of this? why not leave the reading of +great books till a great age? why plague and perplex childhood with +complex facts remote from its experience and inapprehensible by its +imagination? The reply is, that though in all great and combined facts +there is much which childhood cannot thoroughly imagine, there is also +in very many a great deal which can only be truly apprehended for the +first time at that age. Youth has a principle of consolidation; we begin +with the whole. Small sciences are the labors of our manhood; but the +round universe is the plaything of the boy. His fresh mind shoots out +vaguely and crudely into the infinite and eternal. Nothing is hid from +the depth of it; there are no boundaries to its vague and wandering +vision. Early science, it has been said, begins in utter nonsense; it +would be truer to say that it starts with boyish fancies. How absurd +seem the notions of the first Greeks! Who could believe now that air or +water was the principle, the pervading substance, the eternal material +of all things? Such affairs will never explain a thick rock. And what a +white original for a green and sky-blue world! Yet people disputed in +these ages not whether it was either of those substances, but which of +them it was. And doubtless there was a great deal, at least in quantity, +to be said on both sides. Boys are improved; but some in our own day +have asked, "Mamma, I say, what did God make the world of?" and several, +who did not venture on speech, have had an idea of some one gray +primitive thing, felt a difficulty as to how the red came, and wondered +that marble could _ever_ have been the same as moonshine. This is in +truth the picture of life. We begin with the infinite and eternal, which +we shall never apprehend; and these form a framework, a schedule, a set +of co-ordinates to which we refer all which we learn later. At first, +like the old Greek, "We look up to the whole sky, and are lost in the +one and the all;" in the end we classify and enumerate, learn each star, +calculate distances, draw cramped diagrams on the unbounded sky, write a +paper on a Cygni and a treatise on e Draconis, map special facts upon +the indefinite void, and engrave precise details on the infinite and +everlasting. So in history: somehow the whole comes in boyhood, the +details later and in manhood. The wonderful series, going far back to +the times of old patriarchs with their flocks and herds, the keen-eyed +Greek, the stately Roman, the watching Jew, the uncouth Goth, the horrid +Hun, the settled picture of the unchanging East, the restless shifting +of the rapid West, the rise of the cold and classical civilization, its +fall, the rough impetuous Middle Ages, the vague warm picture of +ourselves and home,--when did we learn these? Not yesterday nor to-day: +but long ago, in the first dawn of reason, in the original flow of +fancy. What we learn afterwards are but the accurate littlenesses of the +great topic, the dates and tedious facts. Those who begin late learn +only these; but the happy first feel the mystic associations and the +progress of the whole. + +However exalted may seem the praises which we have given to loose and +unplanned reading, we are not saying that it is the sole ingredient of a +good education. Besides this sort of education, which some boys will +voluntarily and naturally give themselves, there needs, of course, +another and more rigorous kind, which must be impressed upon them from +without. The terrible difficulty of early life--the _use_ of pastors and +masters really is, that they compel boys to a distinct mastery of that +which they do not wish to learn. There is nothing to be said for a +preceptor who is not dry. Mr. Carlyle describes, with bitter satire, the +fate of one of his heroes who was obliged to acquire whole systems of +information in which he, the hero, saw no use, and which he kept, as far +as might be, in a vacant corner of his mind. And this is the very point: +dry language, tedious mathematics, a thumbed grammar, a detested slate +form gradually an interior separate intellect, exact in its information, +rigid in its requirements, disciplined in its exercises. The two grow +together; the early natural fancy touching the far extremities of the +universe, lightly playing with the scheme of all things; the precise, +compacted memory slowly accumulating special facts, exact habits, clear +and painful conceptions. At last, as it were in a moment, the cloud +breaks up, the division sweeps away; we find that in fact these +exercises which puzzled us, these languages which we hated, these +details which we despised, are the instruments of true thought; are the +very keys and openings, the exclusive access to the knowledge which +we loved. + +_THE CAVALIERS_. +Photogravure from a Painting by F. Vinea. + +[Illustration] + + +THE CAVALIERS + +From 'Thomas Babington Macaulay' + +What historian has ever estimated the Cavalier character? There is +Clarendon, the grave, rhetorical, decorous lawyer, piling words, +congealing arguments; very stately, a little grim. There is Hume, the +Scotch metaphysician, who has made out the best case for such people as +never were, for a Charles who never died, for a Strafford who would +never have been attainted; a saving, calculating North-country man, fat, +impassive, who lived on eightpence a day. What have these people to do +with an enjoying English gentleman? It is easy for a doctrinaire to bear +a post-mortem examination,--it is much the same whether he be alive or +dead; but not so with those who live during their life, whose essence is +existence, whose being is in animation. There seem to be some characters +who are not made for history, as there are some who are not made for old +age. A Cavalier is always young. The buoyant life arises before us, +rich in hope, strong in vigor, irregular in action; men young and +ardent, "framed in the prodigality of nature"; open to every enjoyment, +alive to every passion, eager, impulsive; brave without discipline, +noble without principle; prizing luxury, despising danger; capable of +high sentiment, but in each of whom the + + "Addiction was to courses vain, + His companies unlettered, rude, and shallow, + His hours filled up with riots, banquets, sports, + And never noted in him any study, + Any retirement, any sequestration + From open haunts and popularity." + +We see these men setting forth or assembling to defend their king or +church, and we see it without surprise; a rich daring loves danger, a +deep excitability likes excitement. If we look around us, we may see +what is analogous: some say that the battle of the Alma was won by the +"uneducated gentry"; the "uneducated gentry" would be Cavaliers now. The +political sentiment is part of the character; the essence of Toryism is +enjoyment. Talk of the ways of spreading a wholesome conservatism +throughout this country! Give painful lectures, distribute weary tracts +(and perhaps this is as well,--you may be able to give an argumentative +answer to a few objections, you may diffuse a distinct notion of the +dignified dullness of politics); but as far as communicating and +establishing your creed are concerned, try a little pleasure. The way to +keep up old customs is to enjoy old customs; the way to be satisfied +with the present state of things is to enjoy that state of things. Over +the "Cavalier" mind this world passes with a thrill of delight; there is +an exaltation in a daily event, zest in the "regular thing," joy at an +old feast. + + +MORALITY AND FEAR + +From 'Bishop Butler' + +The moral principle (whatever may be said to the contrary by complacent +thinkers) is really and to most men a principle of fear. The delights of +a good conscience may be reserved for better things, but few men who +know themselves will say that they have often felt them by vivid and +actual experience; a sensation of shame, of reproach, of remorse, of sin +(to use the word we instinctively shrink from because it expresses the +meaning), is what the moral principle really and practically thrusts on +most men. Conscience is the condemnation of ourselves; we expect a +penalty. As the Greek proverb teaches, "where there is shame there is +fear"; where there is the deep and intimate anxiety of guilt,--the +feeling which has driven murderers and other than murderers forth to +wastes and rocks and stones and tempests,--we see, as it were, in a +single complex and indivisible sensation, the pain and sense of guilt +and the painful anticipation of its punishment. How to be free from +this, is the question; how to get loose from this; how to be rid of the +secret tie which binds the strong man and cramps his pride, and makes +him angry at the beauty of the universe,--which will not let him go +forth like a great animal, like the king of the forest, in the glory of +his might, but restrains him with an inner fear and a secret foreboding +that if he do but exalt himself he shall be abased, if he do but set +forth his own dignity he will offend ONE who will deprive him of it. +This, as has often been pointed out, is the source of the bloody rites +of heathendom. You are going to battle, you are going out in the bright +sun with dancing plumes and glittering spear; your shield shines, and +your feathers wave, and your limbs are glad with the consciousness of +strength, and your mind is warm with glory and renown; with coming glory +and unobtained renown: for who are you to hope for these; who are _you_ +to go forth proudly against the pride of the sun, with your secret sin +and your haunting shame and your real fear? First lie down and abase +yourself; strike your back with hard stripes; cut deep with a sharp +knife, as if you would eradicate the consciousness; cry aloud; put ashes +on your head; bruise yourself with stones,--then perhaps God may pardon +you. Or, better still (so runs the incoherent feeling), give him +something--your ox, your ass, whole hecatombs if you are rich enough; +anything, it is but a chance,--you do not know what will please him; at +any rate, what you love best yourself,--that is, most likely, your +first-born son. Then, after such gifts and such humiliation, he may be +appeased, he may let you off; he may without anger let you go forth, +Achilles-like, in the glory of your shield; he may _not_ send you home +as he would else, the victim of rout and treachery, with broken arms and +foul limbs, in weariness and humiliation. Of course, it is not this kind +of fanaticism that we impute to a prelate of the English Church; human +sacrifices are not respectable, and Achilles was not rector of Stanhope. +But though the costume and circumstances of life change, the human heart +does not; its feelings remain. The same anxiety, the same consciousness +of personal sin which led in barbarous times to what has been described, +show themselves in civilized life as well. In this quieter period, their +great manifestation is scrupulosity: a care about the ritual of life; an +attention to meats and drinks, and "cups and washings." Being so +unworthy as we are, feeling what we feel, abased as we are abased, who +shall say that those are beneath us? In ardent, imaginative youth they +may seem so; but let a few years come, let them dull the will or +contract the heart or stain the mind; then the consequent feeling will +be, as all experience shows, not that a ritual is too mean, too low, too +degrading for human nature, but that it is a mercy we have to do no +more,--that we have only to wash in Jordan, that we have not even to go +out into the unknown distance to seek for Abana and Pharpar, rivers of +Damascus. We have no right to judge; we cannot decide; we must do what +is laid down for us,--we fail daily even in this; we must never cease +for a moment in our scrupulous anxiety to omit by no tittle and to +exceed by no iota. + + +THE TYRANNY OF CONVENTION + +From 'Sir Robert Peel' + +It might be said that this [necessity for newspapers and statesmen of +following the crowd] is only one of the results of that tyranny of +commonplace which seems to accompany civilization. You may talk of the +tyranny of Nero and Tiberius; but the real tyranny is the tyranny of +your next-door neighbor. What law is so cruel as the law of doing what +he does? What yoke is so galling as the necessity of being like him? +What espionage of despotism comes to your door so effectually as the eye +of the man who lives at your door? Public opinion is a permeating +influence, and it exacts obedience to itself; it requires us to think +other men's thoughts, to speak other men's words, to follow other men's +habits. Of course, if we do not, no formal ban issues; no corporeal +pain, no coarse penalty of a barbarous society is inflicted on the +offender; but we are called "eccentric"; there is a gentle murmur of +"most unfortunate ideas," "singular young man," "well-intentioned, I +dare say; but unsafe, sir, quite unsafe." + +Whatever truth there may be in these splenetic observations might be +expected to show itself more particularly in the world of politics: +people dread to be thought unsafe in proportion as they get their living +by being thought to be safe. Those who desire a public career must look +to the views of the living public; an immediate exterior influence is +essential to the exertion of their faculties. The confidence of others +is your _fulcrum:_ you cannot--many people wish you could--go into +Parliament to represent yourself; you must conform to the opinions of +the electors, and they, depend on it, will not be original. In a word, +as has been most wisely observed, "under free institutions it is +necessary occasionally to defer to the opinions of other people; and as +other people are obviously in the wrong, this is a great hindrance to +the improvement of our political system and the progress of +our species." + + +HOW TO BE AN INFLUENTIAL POLITICIAN + +From 'Bolingbroke' + +It is very natural that brilliant and vehement men should depreciate +Harley; for he had nothing which they possess, but had everything which +they commonly do not possess. He was by nature a moderate man. In that +age they called such a man a "trimmer," but they called him ill: such a +man does not consciously shift or purposely trim his course,--he firmly +believes that he is substantially consistent. "I do not wish in this +House," he would say in our age, "to be a party to any extreme course. +Mr. Gladstone brings forward a great many things which I cannot +understand; I assure you he does. There is more in that bill of his +about tobacco than he thinks; I am confident there is. Money is a +serious thing, a _very_ serious thing. And I am sorry to say Mr. +Disraeli commits the party very much: he avows sentiments which are +injudicious; I cannot go along with him, nor can Sir John. He was not +taught the catechism; I know he was not. There is a want in him of sound +and sober religion,--and Sir John agrees with me,--which would keep him +from distressing the clergy, who are very important. Great orators are +very well; but as I said, how is the revenue? And the point is, not be +led away, and to be moderate, and not to go to an extreme. As soon as it +seems _very_ clear, then I begin to doubt. I have been many years in +Parliament, and that is my experience." We may laugh at such speeches, +but there have been plenty of them in every English Parliament. A great +English divine has been described as always leaving out the principle +upon which his arguments rested; even if it was stated to him, he +regarded it as far-fetched and extravagant. Any politician who has this +temper of mind will always have many followers; and he may be nearly +sure that all great measures will be passed more nearly as he wishes +them to be passed than as great orators wish. Nine-tenths of mankind are +more afraid of violence than of anything else; and inconsistent +moderation is always popular, because of all qualities it is most +opposite to violence,--most likely to preserve the present safe +existence. + + +CONDITIONS OF CABINET GOVERNMENT + +From 'The English Constitution' + +The conditions of fitness are two: first, you must get a good +legislature; and next, you must keep it good. And these are by no means +so nearly connected as might be thought at first sight. To keep a +legislature efficient, it must have a sufficient supply of substantial +business: if you employ the best set of men to do nearly nothing, they +will quarrel with each other about that nothing; where great questions +end, little parties begin. And a very happy community, with few new laws +to make, few old bad laws to repeal, and but simple foreign relations to +adjust, has great difficulty in employing a legislature,--there is +nothing for it to enact and nothing for it to settle. Accordingly, there +is great danger that the legislature, being debarred from all other +kinds of business, may take to quarreling about its elective business; +that controversies as to ministries may occupy all its time, and yet +that time be perniciously employed; that a constant succession of feeble +administrations, unable to govern and unfit to govern, may be +substituted for the proper result of cabinet government, a sufficient +body of men long enough in power to evince their sufficiency. The exact +amount of non-elective business necessary for a parliament which is to +elect the executive cannot, of course, be formally stated,--there are no +numbers and no statistics in the theory of constitutions; all we can say +is, that a parliament with little business, which is to be as efficient +as a parliament with much business, must be in all other respects much +better. An indifferent parliament may be much improved by the steadying +effect of grave affairs; but a parliament which has no such affairs must +be intrinsically excellent, or it will fail utterly. + +But the difficulty of keeping a good legislature is evidently secondary +to the difficulty of first getting it. There are two kinds of nations +which can elect a good parliament. The first is a nation in which the +mass of the people are intelligent, and in which they are comfortable. +Where there is no honest poverty, where education is diffused and +political intelligence is common, it is easy for the mass of the people +to elect a fair legislature. The ideal is roughly realized in the North +American colonies of England, and in the whole free States of the Union: +in these countries there is no such thing as honest poverty,--physical +comfort, such as the poor cannot imagine here, is there easily +attainable by healthy industry; education is diffused much, and is fast +spreading,--ignorant emigrants from the Old World often prize the +intellectual advantages of which they are themselves destitute, and are +annoyed at their inferiority in a place where rudimentary culture is so +common. The greatest difficulty of such new communities is commonly +geographical: the population is mostly scattered; and where population +is sparse, discussion is difficult. But in a country very large as we +reckon in Europe, a people really intelligent, really educated, really +comfortable, would soon form a good opinion. No one can doubt that the +New England States, if they were a separate community, would have an +education, a political capacity, and an intelligence such as the +numerical majority of no people equally numerous has ever possessed: in +a State of this sort, where all the community is fit to choose a +sufficient legislature, it is possible, it is almost easy, to create +that legislature. If the New England States possessed a cabinet +government as a separate nation, they would be as renowned in the world +for political sagacity as they now are for diffused happiness. + + +WHY EARLY SOCIETIES COULD NOT BE FREE + +From 'Physics and Politics' + +I believe the general description in which Sir John Lubbock sums up his +estimate of the savage mind suits the patriarchal mind: "Savages," he +says, "have the character of children with the passions and strength +of men."... + +And this is precisely what we should expect. "An inherited drill," +science says, "makes modern nations what they are; their born structure +bears the trace of the laws of their fathers:" but the ancient nations +came into no such inheritance,--they were the descendants of people who +did what was right in their own eyes; they were born to no tutored +habits, no preservative bonds, and therefore they were at the mercy of +every impulse and blown by every passion.... + +Again, I at least cannot call up to myself the loose conceptions (as +they must have been) of morals which then existed. If we set aside all +the element derived from law and polity which runs through our current +moral notions, I hardly know what we shall have left. The residuum was +somehow and in some vague way intelligible to the ante-political man; +but it must have been uncertain, wavering, and unfit to be depended +upon. In the best cases it existed much as the vague feeling of beauty +now exists in minds sensitive but untaught,--a still small voice of +uncertain meaning, an unknown something modifying everything else and +higher than anything else, yet in form so indistinct that when you +looked for it, it was gone; or if this be thought the delicate fiction +of a later fancy, then morality was at least to be found in the wild +spasms of "wild justice," half punishment, half outrage: but anyhow, +being unfixed by steady law, it was intermittent, vague, and hard for us +to imagine.... + +To sum up:--_Law_--rigid, definite, concise law--is the primary want of +early mankind; that which they need above anything else, that which is +requisite before they can gain anything else. But it is their greatest +difficulty as well as their first requisite; the thing most out of their +reach as well as that most beneficial to them if they reach it. In later +ages, many races have gained much of this discipline quickly though +painfully,--a loose set of scattered clans has been often and often +forced to substantial settlement by a rigid conqueror; the Romans did +half the work for above half Europe. But where could the first ages find +Romans or a conqueror? men conquer by the power of government, and it +was exactly government which then was not. The first ascent of +civilization was at a steep gradient, though when now we look down upon +it, it seems almost nothing. + +How the step from no polity to polity was made, distinct history does +not record.... But when once polities were begun, there is no difficulty +in explaining why they lasted. Whatever may be said against the +principle of "natural selection" in other departments, there is no doubt +of its predominance in early human history: the strongest killed out the +weakest as they could. And I need not pause to prove that any form of +polity is more efficient than none; that an aggregate of families owning +even a slippery allegiance to a single head would be sure to have the +better of a set of families acknowledging no obedience to any one, but +scattering loose about the world and fighting where they stood. Homer's +Cyclops would be powerless against the feeblest band; so far from its +being singular that we find no other record of that state of man, so +unstable and sure to perish was it that we should rather wonder at even +a single vestige lasting down to the age when for picturesqueness it +became valuable in poetry. + +But though the origin of polity is dubious, we are upon the _terra +firma_ of actual records when we speak of the preservation of polities. +Perhaps every young Englishman who comes nowadays to Aristotle or Plato +is struck with their conservatism: fresh from the liberal doctrines of +the present age, he wonders at finding in those recognized teachers so +much contrary teaching. They both, unlike as they are, hold with +Xenophon so unlike both, that man is "the hardest of all animals to +govern." Of Plato it might indeed be plausibly said that the adherents +of an intuitive philosophy, being "the Tories of speculation," have +commonly been prone to conservatism in government; but Aristotle, the +founder of the experience philosophy, ought according to that doctrine +to have been a Liberal if any one ever was a Liberal. In fact, both of +these men lived when men "had not had time to forget" the difficulties +of government: we have forgotten them altogether. We reckon as the basis +of our culture upon an amount of order, of tacit obedience, of +prescriptive governability, which these philosophers hoped to get as a +principal result of their culture; we take without thought as a _datum_ +what they hunted as a _quaesitum_. + +In early times the quantity of government is much more important than +its quality. What you want is a comprehensive rule binding men together, +making them do much the same things, telling them what to expect of each +other,--fashioning them alike and keeping them so: what this rule is, +does not matter so much. A good rule is better than a bad one, but any +rule is better than none; while, for reasons which a jurist will +appreciate, none can be very good. But to gain that rule, what may be +called the "impressive" elements of a polity are incomparably more +important than its useful elements. How to get the obedience of men, is +the hard problem; what you do with that obedience is less critical. + +To gain that obedience, the primary condition is the identity--not the +union, but the sameness--of what we now call "church" and "state."... No +division of power is then endurable without danger, probably without +destruction: the priest must not teach one thing and the king another; +king must be priest and prophet king,--the two must say the same because +they are the same. The idea of difference between spiritual penalties +and legal penalties must never be awakened,--indeed, early Greek thought +or early Roman thought would never have comprehended it; there was a +kind of rough public opinion, and there were rough--very rough--hands +which acted on it. We now talk of "political penalties" and +"ecclesiastical prohibition" and "the social censure"; but they were all +one then. Nothing is very like those old communities now, but perhaps a +trades-union is as near as most things: to work cheap is thought to be a +"wicked" thing, and so some Broadhead puts it down. + +The object of such organizations is to create what may be called a +_cake_ of custom. All the actions of life are to be submitted to a +single rule for a single object,--that gradually created "hereditary +drill" which science teaches to be essential, and which the early +instinct of men saw to be essential too. That this _régime_ forbids free +thought is not an evil,--or rather, though an evil, it is the necessary +basis for the greatest good; it is necessary for making the mold of +civilization and hardening the soft fibre of early man. + + +BENEFITS OF FREE DISCUSSION IN MODERN TIMES + +From 'Physics and Politics' + +In this manner polities of discussion broke up the old bonds of custom +which were now strangling mankind, though they had once aided and helped +it; but this is only one of the many gifts which those polities have +conferred, are conferring, and will confer on mankind. I am not going to +write a eulogium on liberty, but I wish to set down three points which +have not been sufficiently noticed. + +Civilized ages inherit the human nature which was victorious in +barbarous ages, and that nature is in many respects not at all suited to +civilized circumstances. A main and principal excellence in the early +times of the human races is the impulse to action. The problems before +men are then plain and simple: the man who works hardest, the man who +kills the most deer, the man who catches the most fish--even later on, +the man who tends the largest herds or the man who tills the largest +field--is the man who succeeds; the nation which is quickest to kill its +enemies or which kills most of its enemies is the nation which succeeds. +All the inducements of early society tend to foster immediate action, +all its penalties fall on the man who pauses; the traditional wisdom of +those times was never weary of inculcating that "delays are dangerous," +and that the sluggish man--the man "who roasteth not that which he took +in hunting"--will not prosper on the earth, and indeed will very soon +perish out of it: and in consequence an inability to stay quiet, an +irritable desire to act directly, is one of the most conspicuous +failings of mankind. + +Pascal said that most of the evils of life arose from "man's being +unable to sit still in a room"; and though I do not go that length, it +is certain that we should have been a far wiser race than we are if we +had been readier to sit quiet,--we should have known much better the way +in which it was best to act when we came to act. The rise of physical +science, the first great body of practical truth provable to all men, +exemplifies this in the plainest way: if it had not been for quiet +people who sat still and studied the sections of the cone, if other +quiet people had not sat still and studied the theory of infinitesimals, +or other quiet people had not sat still and worked out the doctrine of +chances (the most "dreamy moonshine," as the purely practical mind +would consider, of all human pursuits), if "idle star-gazers" had not +watched long and carefully the motions of the heavenly bodies,--our +modern astronomy would have been impossible, and without our astronomy +"our ships, our colonies, our seamen," all which makes modern life +modern life, could not have existed. Ages of sedentary, quiet, thinking +people were required before that noisy existence began, and without +those pale preliminary students it never could have been brought into +being. And nine-tenths of modern science is in this respect the same: it +is the produce of men whom their contemporaries thought dreamers, who +were laughed at for caring for what did not concern them, who as the +proverb went "walked into a well from looking at the stars," who were +believed to be useless if any one could be such. And the conclusion is +plain that if there had been more such people, if the world had not +laughed at those there were, if rather it had encouraged them, there +would have been a great accumulation of proved science ages before there +was. It was the irritable activity, the "wish to be doing something," +that prevented it,--most men inherited a nature too eager and too +restless to be quiet and find out things: and even worse, with their +idle clamor they "disturbed the brooding hen"; they would not let those +be quiet who wished to be so, and out of whose calm thought much good +might have come forth. + +If we consider how much science has done and how much it is doing for +mankind, and if the over-activity of men is proved to be the cause why +science came so late into the world and is so small and scanty still, +that will convince most people that our over-activity is a very great +evil; but this is only part and perhaps not the greatest part, of the +harm that over-activity does. As I have said, it is inherited from times +when life was simple, objects were plain, and quick action generally led +to desirable ends: if A kills B before B kills A, then A survives, and +the human race is a race of A's. But the issues of life are plain no +longer: to act rightly in modern society requires a great deal of +previous study, a great deal of assimilated information, a great deal of +sharpened imagination; and these prerequisites of sound action require +much time, and I was going to say much "lying in the sun," a long period +of "mere passiveness." + +[Argument to show that the same vice of impatience damages war, +philanthropy, commerce, and even speculation.] + +But it will be said, What has government by discussion to do with these +things? will it prevent them, or even mitigate them? It can and does do +both, in the very plainest way. If you want to stop instant and +immediate action, always make it a condition that the action shall not +begin till a considerable number of persons have talked over it and have +agreed on it. If those persons be people of different temperaments, +different ideas, and different educations, you have an almost infallible +security that nothing or almost nothing will be done with excessive +rapidity. Each kind of persons will have their spokesman; each spokesman +will have his characteristic objection and each his characteristic +counter-proposition: and so in the end nothing will probably be done, or +at least only the minimum which is plainly urgent. In many cases this +delay may be dangerous, in many cases quick action will be preferable; a +campaign, as Macaulay well says, cannot be directed by a "debating +society," and many other kinds of action also require a single and +absolute general: but for the purpose now in hand--that of preventing +hasty action and insuring elaborate consideration--there is no device +like a polity of discussion. + +The enemies of this object--the people who want to act quickly--see this +very distinctly: they are forever explaining that the present is "an age +of committees," that the committees do nothing, that all evaporates in +talk. Their great enemy is parliamentary government: they call it, after +Mr. Carlyle, the "national palaver"; they add up the hours that are +consumed in it and the speeches which are made in it, and they sigh for +a time when England might again be ruled, as it once was, by a +Cromwell,--that is, when an eager absolute man might do exactly what +other eager men wished, and do it immediately. All these invectives are +perpetual and many-sided; they come from philosophers each of whom wants +some new scheme tried, from philanthropists who want some evil abated, +from revolutionists who want some old institution destroyed, from +new-eraists who want their new era started forthwith: and they all are +distinct admissions that a polity of discussion is the greatest +hindrance to the inherited mistake of human nature,--to the desire to +act promptly, which in a simple age is so excellent, but which in a +later and complex time leads to so much evil. + +The same accusation against our age sometimes takes a more general form: +it is alleged that our energies are diminishing, that ordinary and +average men have not the quick determination nowadays which they used to +have when the world was younger, that not only do not committees and +parliaments act with rapid decisiveness, but that no one now so acts; +and I hope that in fact this is true, for according to me it proves that +the hereditary barbaric impulse is decaying and dying out. So far from +thinking the quality attributed to us a defect, I wish that those who +complain of it were far more right than I much fear they are. Still, +certainly, eager and violent action _is_ somewhat diminished, though +only by a small fraction of what it ought to be; and I believe that this +is in great part due, in England at least, to our government by +discussion, which has fostered a general intellectual tone, a diffused +disposition to weigh evidence, a conviction that much may be said on +every side of everything which the elder and more fanatic ages of the +world wanted. This is the real reason why our energies seem so much less +than those of our fathers. When we have a definite end in view, which we +know we want and which we think we know how to obtain, we can act well +enough: the campaigns of our soldiers are as energetic as any campaigns +ever were; the speculations of our merchants have greater promptitude, +greater audacity, greater vigor than any such speculations ever had +before. In old times a few ideas got possession of men and communities, +but this is happily now possible no longer: we see how incomplete these +old ideas were; how almost by chance one seized on one nation and +another on another; how often one set of men have persecuted another set +for opinions on subjects of which neither, we now perceive, knew +anything. It might be well if a greater number of effectual +demonstrations existed among mankind: but while no such demonstrations +exist, and while the evidence which completely convinces one man seems +to another trifling and insufficient, let us recognize the plain +position of inevitable doubt; let us not be bigots with a doubt and +persecutors without a creed. We are beginning to see this, and we are +railed at for so beginning: but it is a great benefit, and it is to the +incessant prevalence of detective discussion that our doubts are due; +and much of that discussion is due to the long existence of a government +requiring constant debates, written and oral. + + +ORIGIN OF DEPOSIT BANKING + +From 'Lombard Street' + +In the last century, a favorite subject of literary ingenuity was +"conjectural history," as it was then called: upon grounds of +probability, a fictitious sketch was made of the possible origin of +things existing. If this kind of speculation were now applied to +banking, the natural and first idea would be that large systems of +deposit banking grew up in the early world just as they grow up now in +any large English colony. As soon as any such community becomes rich +enough to have much money, and compact enough to be able to lodge its +money in single banks, it at once begins so to do. English colonists do +not like the risk of keeping their money, and they wish to make an +interest on it; they carry from home the idea and the habit of banking, +and they take to it as soon as they can in their new world. Conjectural +history would be inclined to say that all banking began thus; but such +history is rarely of any value,--the basis of it is false. It assumes +that what works most easily when established is that which it would be +the most easy to establish, and that what seems simplest when familiar +would be most easily appreciated by the mind though unfamiliar; but +exactly the contrary is true,--many things which seem simple, and which +work well when firmly established, are very hard to establish among new +people and not very easy to explain to them. Deposit banking is of this +sort. Its essence is, that a very large number of persons agree to trust +a very few persons, or some one person: banking would not be a +profitable trade if bankers were not a small number, and depositors in +comparison an immense number. But to get a great number of persons to do +exactly the same thing is always very difficult, and nothing but a very +palpable necessity will make them on a sudden begin to do it; and there +is no such palpable necessity in banking. + +If you take a country town in France, even now, you will not find any +such system of banking as ours: check-books are unknown, and money kept +on running account by bankers is rare: people store their money in a +_caisse_ at their houses. Steady savings, which are waiting for +investment and which are sure not to be soon wanted, may be lodged with +bankers; but the common floating cash of the community is kept by the +community themselves at home,--they prefer to keep it so, and it would +not answer a banker's purpose to make expensive arrangements for keeping +it otherwise. If a "branch," such as the National Provincial Bank opens +in an English country town, were opened in a corresponding French one, +it would not pay its expenses: you could not get any sufficient number +of Frenchmen to agree to put their money there. + +And so it is in all countries not of British descent, though in various +degrees. Deposit banking is a very difficult thing to begin, because +people do not like to let their money out of their sight; especially, do +not like to let it out of sight without security; still more, cannot all +at once agree on any single person to whom they are content to trust it +unseen and unsecured. Hypothetical history, which explains the past by +what is simplest and commonest in the present, is in banking, as in most +things, quite untrue. + +The real history is very different. New wants are mostly supplied by +adaptation, not by creation or foundation; something having been created +to satisfy an extreme want, it is used to satisfy less pressing wants or +to supply additional conveniences. On this account, political +government, the oldest institution in the world, has been the hardest +worked: at the beginning of history, we find it doing everything which +society wants done and forbidding everything which society does _not_ +wish done. In trade, at present, the first commerce in a new place is a +general shop, which, beginning with articles of real necessity, comes +shortly to supply the oddest accumulation of petty comforts. And the +history of banking has been the same: the first banks were not founded +for our system of deposit banking, or for anything like it; they were +founded for much more pressing reasons, and having been founded, they or +copies from them were applied to our modern uses. + +[Gives a sketch of banks started as finance companies to make or float +government loans, and to give good coin; and sketches their function of +remitting money.] + +These are all uses other than those of deposit banking, which banks +supplied that afterwards became in our English sense deposit banks: by +supplying these uses, they gained the credit that afterwards enabled +them to gain a living as deposit banks; being trusted for one purpose, +they came to be trusted for a purpose quite different,--ultimately far +more important, though at first less keenly pressing. But these wants +only affect a few persons, and therefore bring the bank under the notice +of a few only. The real introductory function which deposit banks at +first perform is much more popular; and it is only when they can perform +this most popular kind of business that deposit banking ever spreads +quickly and extensively. + +This function is the supply of the paper circulation to the country; and +it will be observed that I am not about to overstep my limits and +discuss this as a question of currency. In what form the best paper +currency can be supplied to a country is a question of economical theory +with which I do not meddle here: I am only narrating unquestionable +history, not dealing with an argument where every step is disputed; and +part of this certain history is, that the best way to diffuse banking in +a community is to allow the banker to issue bank notes of small amount +that can supersede the metal currency. This amounts to a subsidy to each +banker to enable him to keep open a bank till depositors choose to +come to it.... + +The reason why the use of bank paper commonly precedes the habit of +making deposits in banks is very plain: it is a far easier habit to +establish. In the issue of notes the banker, the person to be most +benefited, can do something,--he can pay away his own "promises" in +loans, in wages, or in payment of debts,--but in the getting of deposits +he is passive; his issues depend on himself, his deposits on the favor +of others. And to the public the change is far easier too: to collect a +great mass of deposits with the same banker, a great number of persons +must agree to do something; but to establish a note circulation, a large +number of persons need only _do nothing_,--they receive the banker's +notes in the common course of their business, and they have only _not_ +to take those notes to the banker for payment. If the public refrain +from taking trouble, a paper circulation is immediately in existence. A +paper circulation is begun by the banker, and requires no effort on the +part of the public,--on the contrary, it needs an effort of the public +to be rid of notes once issued; but deposit banking cannot be begun by +the banker, and requires a spontaneous and consistent effort in the +community: and therefore paper issue is the natural prelude to +deposit banking. + + + + +JENS BAGGESEN + +(1764-1826) + + +Jens Baggesen was born in the little Danish town Korsör in 1764, and +died in exile in the year 1826. Thus he belonged to two centuries and to +two literary periods. He had reached manhood when the French Revolution +broke out; he witnessed Napoleon's rise, his victories, and his fall. He +was a full contemporary of Goethe, who survived him only six years; he +saw English literature glory in men like Byron and Moore, and lived to +hear of Byron's death in Greece. In his first works he stood a true +representative of the culture and literature of the eighteenth century, +and was hailed as its exponent by the Danish poet Herman Wessel; towards +the end of the century he was acknowledged to be the greatest of living +Danish poets. Then with the new age came the Norwegian, Henrik Steffens, +with his enthusiastic lectures on German romanticism, calling out the +genius of Oehlenschläger, and the eighteenth century was doomed; +Baggesen nevertheless greeted Oehlenschläger with sincere admiration, +and when the 'Aladdin' of that poet appeared, Baggesen sent him his +rhymed letter 'From Nureddin-Baggesen to Aladdin-Oehlenschläger.' + +[Illustration: Jens Baggesen.] + +Baggesen was the son of poor people, and strangers helped him to his +scientific education. When his first works were recognized he became the +friend and protégé of the Duke of Augustenborg, who provided him with +the means for an extended journey through the Continent, during which he +met the greatest men of his time. The Duke of Augustenborg meanwhile +secured him several positions, which could not hold him for any length +of time, nor keep him at home in Denmark. He went abroad a second time +to study pedagogics, literature, and philosophy, came home again, +wandered forth once more, returned a widower, was for some time director +of the National Theatre in Copenhagen; but found no rest, married again, +and in 1800 went to France to live. Eleven years later he was professor +in Kiel, returning thence to Copenhagen, where meanwhile his fame had +been eclipsed by the genius of Oehlenschläger. Secure in the knowledge +of his powers, Oehlenschläger had carelessly published two or three +dramatic poems not worthy of his pen, and Baggesen entered on a violent +controversy with him in which he stood practically by himself against +the entire reading public, whose sympathies were with Oehlenschläger. +Alone and misunderstood, restless and unhappy, he left Denmark in 1820, +never to return. Six years later he died, longing to see his country +again, but unable to reach it. + +His first poetry was published in 1785, a volume of 'Comic Tales,' which +made its mark at once. The following year appeared in quick succession +satires, rhymed epistles, and elegies, which, adding to his fame, added +also to the purposeless ferment and unrest which had taken possession of +him. He considered tragedy his proper field, yet had allowed himself to +appear as humorist and satirist. + +When the great historic events of the time took place, and over-threw +all existing conditions, this inner restlessness drove him to and fro +without purpose or will. One day he was enthusiastic over Voss's idyls, +the next he was carried away by Robespierre's wildest speeches. One year +he adopted Kant's Christian name Immanuel in transport over his works, +the next he called the great philosopher "an empty nut, and moreover +hard to crack." The romanticism in Denmark as well as in Germany reduced +him to a state of utter confusion; but in spite of this he continued a +child of the old order, which was already doomed. And with all his +unrest and discord he remained nevertheless the champion of "form," "the +poet of the graces," as he has been called. + +This gift of form has given him his literary importance. He built a +bridge from the eighteenth to the nineteenth century; and when the new +romantic school overstepped its privileges, it was he who called it to +order. The most conspicuous act of his literary life was the controversy +with Oehlenschläger, and the wittiest product of his pen is the reckless +criticism of Oehlenschläger's opera 'Ludlam's Cave.' Johann Ludvig +Heiberg, the greatest analytical critic of whom Denmark can boast, +remained Baggesen's ardent admirer; and Heiberg's influential although +not always just criticism of Oehlenschläger as a poet was no doubt +called forth by Baggesen's attack. Some years later Henrik Hertz made +Baggesen his subject. In 1830 appeared 'Letters from Ghosts,' poetic +epistles from Paradise. Nobody knew that Hertz was the author. It was +Baggesen's voice from beyond the grave, Baggesen's criticism upon the +literature of 1830. It was one of the wittiest, and in versification one +of the best, books in Danish literature. + +Baggesen's most important prose work is 'The Labyrinth,' afterwards +called 'The Wanderings of a Poet.' It is a poetic description of his +journeys, unique in its way, rich in impressions and full of striking +remarks, written in a piquant, graceful, and easy style. + +As long as Danish literature remains, Baggesen's name will be known; +though his writings are not now widely read, and are important chiefly +because of their influence on the literary spirit of his own time. His +familiar poem 'There was a time when I was very little,' during the +controversy with Oehlenschläger, was seized upon by Paul Möller, +parodied, and changed into 'There was a time when Jens was much bigger.' +Equally well known is his 'Ode to My Country,' with the +familiar lines:-- + + "Alas, in no place is the thorn as tiny, + Alas, in no place blooms as red a rose, + Alas, in no place is there couch as downy + As where we little children found repose." + + +A COSMOPOLITAN + +From 'The Labyrinth' + +Forster, a little nervous, alert, and piquant man, with gravity written +on his forehead, perspicacity in his eye, and love around his lips, +conquered me completely. I spoke to him of everything except his +journeys; but the traveler showed himself full of unmistakable humanity. +He seemed to me the cosmopolitan spirit personified. It was as if the +world were present when I was alone with him. + +We talked about his friend Jacobi, about the late King of Prussia, about +the literature of Germany, and about the present Pole-high standard of +taste. I was much pleased to find in him the art critic I sought. He +said that we must admire everything which is good and beautiful, whether +it originates West, East, South, or North. The taste of the bee is the +true one. Difference in language and climate, difference of nationality, +must not affect my interest in fair and noble things. The unknown repels +the animal, but should not repel the human creature. Suppose you say +that Voltaire is animal in comparison with Shakespeare or Klopstock, or +that they are animal in comparison with him: it is a blunder to demand +pears of an apple-tree, as it is ridiculous to throw away the apple +because it is not a pear. The entire world of nature teaches us this +aesthetic tolerance, and yet we have as little acquired it as we have +freedom of conscience. We plant white and red roses in the same bed, but +who puts the 'Messiah' and the 'Henriade' on the same shelf? He only +who reads neither the one nor the other. True religion worships God; +true taste worships the beautiful without regard of person or nation. +German? French? Italian? or English? All the same! But nothing mediocre. + +I was flushed with pleasure; I gave him my hand. "That may be said of +other things than poetry!" I said.--"Of all art!" he answered.--"Of all +that is human!" we both concluded. + +Deplorable indolence which clothes our mind in the first heavy cloak +ready to hand, so that all the sunbeams of the world cannot persuade us +to throw it off, much less to assume another! The man who is exclusively +a nationalist is a snail forever chained to his house. Psyche had wings +given her for a never-ending, eternal flight. We may not imprison her, +be the cage ever so large. + +He considered that Lessing had wronged the great representative of the +French language; and the remark of Claudius, "Voltaire says he weeps, +and Shakespeare does weep," appeared to him like the saying, "Much that +is new and beautiful has M. Arouet said; but it is a pity that the +beautiful is not new and the new not beautiful,"--more witty than true. +The English think that Shakespeare, as the Germans think that Lessing, +really weeps; the French think the same of Voltaire. But the first weeps +for the whole world, it is said, the last only for his own people. What +the French call "Le Nord" is, to be sure, rather a large territory, but +not the entire world! France calls "whimpering" in one case and +"blubbering" in another what we call weeping. The general mistake is +that we do not understand the nature of the people and the language, in +which and for whom the weeping is done. + +We must be English when we read Shakespeare, German when we read +Klopstock, French when we read Voltaire. The man whose soul cannot shed +its national costume and don that of other nations ought not to read, +much less to judge, their masterpieces. He will be looking at the moon +by day and at the sun by night, and see the first without lustre and the +last not at all. + + +PHILOSOPHY ON THE HEATH + +From 'The Labyrinth' + +Caillard was a man of experience, taste, and knowledge. He told me the +story of his life from beginning to end, he confided to me his +principles and his affairs, and I took him to be the happiest man in the +world. "I have everything," he said, "all that I have wished for or can +wish for: health, riches, domestic peace (being unmarried), a tolerably +good conscience, books--and as much sense as I need to enjoy them. I +experience only one single want, lack only one single pleasure in this +world; but that one is enough to embitter my life and class me with +other unfortunates." + +I could not guess what might yet be wanting to such a man under such +conditions, "It cannot be liberty," I said, "for how can a rich merchant +in a free town lack this?" + +"No! Heaven save me--I neither would nor could live one single day +without liberty." + +"You do not happen to be in love with some cruel or unhappy princess?" + +"That is still less the case." + +"Ah!--now I have it, no doubt--your soul is consumed with a thirst for +truth, for a satisfactory answer to the many questions which are but +philosophic riddles. You are seeking what so many brave men from +Anaxagoras to Spinoza have sought in vain--the corner-stone of +philosophy, the foundation of the structure of our ideas." + +He assured me that in this respect he was quite at ease. "Then, in spite +of your good health, you must be subject to that miserable thing, a cold +in the head?" I said. + + "Uno minor--Jove, dives + Liber, honoratus, pulcher rex denique regum, + Praecipue sanus--nisi cum pituita molesta est." + +--HORACE. + +When he denied this too, I gave up trying to solve the meaning of his +dark words. + +O happiness! of all earthly chimeras thou art the most chimerical! I +would rather seek dry figs on the bottom of the sea and fresh ones on +this heath,--I would rather seek liberty, or truth itself, or the +philosopher's stone, than to run after thee, most deceitful of lights, +will-o'-the-wisp of our human life! + +I thought that at last I had found a perfectly happy, an enviable man; +and now--behold! though I have not the ten-thousandth part of his +wealth, though I have not the tenth part of his health, though I may not +have a third of his intellect, although I have all the wants which he +has not and the one want under which he suffers, yet I would not change +places with him! + +From this moment he was the object of my sincerest pity. But what did +this awful curse prove to be? Listen and tremble! + +"Of what use is it all to me?" he said: "coffee, which I love more than +all the wines of this earth and more than all the women of this earth, +coffee which I love madly--coffee is forbidden me!" + +Laugh who lists! Inasmuch as everything in this world, viewed in a +certain light, is tragic, it would be excusable to weep: but inasmuch as +everything viewed in another light is comic, a little laughter could not +be taken amiss; only beware of laughing at the sigh with which my happy +man pronounced these words, for it might be that in laughing at +him you laugh at yourself, your father, your grandfather, your +great-grandfather, your great-great-grandfather, and so on, including +your entire family as far back as Adam. + +If, in laughing at such discontent, you laugh in advance at your son, +your son's son's son, and so forth to the last descendant of your entire +family, this is a matter which I do not decide. It will depend upon the +road humanity chooses to take. If it continues as it is going, some +coffee-want or other will forever strew it with thorns. + +Had he said, "Chocolate is forbidden me," or tea, or English ale, or +madeira, or strawberries, you would have found his misery +equally absurd. + +The great Alexander is said to have wept because he found no more worlds +to conquer. The man who bemoans the loss of a world and the man who +bemoans the loss of coffee are to my mind equally unbalanced and equally +in need of forgiveness. The desire for a cup of coffee and the desire +for a crown, the hankering after the flavor or even the fragrance of the +drink and the hankering after fame, are equally mad and equally--human. + +If history is to be believed, Adam possessed all the advantages and +comforts, all the necessities and luxuries a first man could reasonably +demand.... Lord of all living things, and sharing his dominion with his +beloved, what did he lack? + +Among ten thousand pleasures, the fruit of one single tree was forbidden +him. Good-by content and peace! Good-by forever all his bliss! + +I acknowledge that I should have yielded to the same temptation; and he +who does not see that this fate would have overtaken his entire family, +past and to come, may have studied all things from the Milky Way in the +sky to the milky way in his kitchen, may have studied all stones, +plants, and animals, and all folios and quartos dealing therewith, but +never himself or man. + +As we do not know the nature of the fruit which Adam could not do +without, it may as well have been coffee as any other. That it was +pleasant to the eyes means no more than that it was forbidden. Every +forbidden thing is pleasant to the eyes. + +"Of what use is it all to me?" said Adam, looking around him in Eden, at +the rising sun, the blushing hills, the light-green forest, the glorious +waterfall, the laden fruit-trees, and, most beautiful of all, the +smiling woman--"of what use is it all to me, when I dare not taste +this--coffee bean?" + +"And of what use is it all to me?" said Mr. Caillard, and looked around +him on the Lüneburg heath: "coffee is forbidden me; one single cup of +coffee would kill me." + +"If it will be any comfort to you," I said, "I may tell you that I am in +the same case." "And you do not despair at times?"--"No," I replied, +"for it is not my only want. If like you I had everything else in life, +I also might despair." + + + THERE WAS A TIME WHEN I WAS VERY LITTLE + + There was a time, when I, an urchin slender, + Could hardly boast of having any height. + Oft I recall those days with feelings tender; + With smiles, and yet the tear-drops dim my sight. + + Within my tender mother's arms I sported, + I played at horse upon my grandsire's knee; + Sorrow and care and anger, ill-reported, + As little known as gold or Greek, to me. + + The world was little to my childish thinking, + And innocent of sin and sinful things; + I saw the stars above me flashing, winking-- + To fly and catch them, how I longed for wings! + + I saw the moon behind the hills declining, + And thought, O were I on yon lofty ground, + I'd learn the truth; for here there's no divining + How large it is, how beautiful, how round! + + In wonder, too, I saw God's sun pursuing + His westward course, to ocean's lap of gold; + And yet at morn the East he was renewing + With wide-spread, rosy tints, this artist old. + + Then turned my thoughts to God the Father gracious, + Who fashioned me and that great orb on high, + And the night's jewels, decking heaven spacious; + From pole to pole its arch to glorify. + + With childish piety my lips repeated + The prayer learned at my pious mother's knee: + Help me remember, Jesus, I entreated, + That I must grow up good and true to Thee! + + Then for the household did I make petition, + For kindred, friends, and for the town's folk, last; + The unknown King, the outcast, whose condition + Darkened my childish joy, as he slunk past. + + All lost, all vanished, childhood's days so eager! + My peace, my joy with them have fled away; + I've only memory left: possession meagre; + Oh, never may that leave me, Lord, I pray. + + + + +PHILIP JAMES BAILEY + +(1816-) + + +In Bailey we have a striking instance of the man whose reputation is +made suddenly by a single work, which obtains an amazing popularity, and +which is presently almost forgotten except as a name. When in 1839 the +long poem 'Festus' appeared, its author was an unknown youth, who had +hardly reached his majority. Within a few months he was a celebrity. +That so dignified and suggestive a performance should have come from so +young a poet was considered a marvel of precocity by the literary world, +both English and American. + +The author of 'Festus' was born at Basford, Nottinghamshire, England, +April 22nd, 1816. Educated at the public schools of Nottingham, and at +Glasgow University, he studied law, and at nineteen entered Lincoln's +Inn. In 1840 he was admitted to the bar. But his vocation in life +appears to have been metaphysical and spiritual rather than legal. + +His 'Festus: a Poem,' containing fifty-five episodes or successive +scenes,--some thirty-five thousand lines,--was begun in his twentieth +year. Three years later it was in the hands of the English reading +public. Like Goethe's 'Faust' in pursuing the course of a human soul +through influences emanating from the Supreme Good and the Supreme Evil; +in having Heaven and the World as its scene; in its inclusion of God and +the Devil, the Archangels and Angels, the Powers of Perdition, and +withal many earthly types in its action,--it is by no means a mere +imitation of the great German. Its plan is wider. It incorporates even +more impressive spiritual material than 'Faust' offers. Not only is its +mortal hero, Festus, conducted through an amazing pilgrimage, spiritual +and redeemed by divine Love, but we have in the poem a conception of +close association with Christianity, profound ethical suggestions, a +flood of theology and philosophy, metaphysics and science, picturing +Good and Evil, love and hate, peace and war, the past, the present, and +the future, earth, heaven, and hell, heights and depths, dominions, +principalities, and powers, God and man, the whole of being and of +not-being,--all in an effort to unmask the last and greatest secrets of +Infinity. And more than all this, 'Festus' strives to portray the +sufficiency of Divine Love and of the Divine Atonement to dissipate, +even to annihilate, Evil. For even Lucifer and the hosts of darkness are +restored to purity and to peace among the Sons of God, the Children of +Light! The Love of God is set forth as limitless. We have before us the +birth of matter at the Almighty's fiat; and we close the work with the +salvation and ecstasy--described as decreed from the Beginning--of +whatever creature hath been given a spiritual existence, and made a +spiritual subject and agency. There is in the doctrine of 'Festus' no +such thing as the "Son of Perdition" who shall be an ultimate castaway. + +Few English poems have attracted more general notice from all +intelligent classes of readers than did 'Festus' on its advent. +Orthodoxy was not a little aghast at its theologic suggestions. +Criticism of it as a literary production was hampered not a little by +religious sensitiveness. The London Literary Gazette said of it:--"It is +an extraordinary production, out-Heroding Kant in some of its +philosophy, and out-Goetheing Goethe in the introduction of the Three +Persons of the Trinity as interlocutors in its wild plot. Most +objectionable as it is on this account, it yet contains so many +exquisite passages of genuine poetry, that our admiration of the +author's genius overpowers the feeling of mortification at its being +misapplied, and meddling with such dangerous topics." The advance of +liberal ideas within the churches has diminished such criticism, but the +work is still a stumbling-block to the less speculative of sectaries. + +The poem is far too long, and its scope too vast for even a genius of +much higher and riper gifts than Bailey's. It is turgid, untechnical in +verse, wordy, and involved. Had Bailey written at fifty instead of at +twenty, it might have shown a necessary balance and felicity of style. +But, with all these shortcomings, it is not to be relegated to the +library of things not worth the time to know, to the list of bulky +poetic failures. Its author blossomed and fruited marvelously early; so +early and with such unlooked-for fruit that the unthinking world, which +first received him with exaggerated honor, presently assailed him with +undue dispraise. 'Festus' is not mere solemn and verbose commonplace. +Here and there it has passages of great force and even of high beauty. +The author's whole heart and brain were poured into it, and neither was +a common one. With all its ill-based daring and manifest crudities, it +was such a _tour de force_ for a lad of twenty as the world seldom sees. +Its sluggish current bears along remarkable knowledge, great reflection, +and the imagination of a fertile as well as a precocious brain. It is a +stream which carries with it things new and old, and serves to stir the +mind of the onlooker with unwonted thoughts. Were it but one fourth as +long, it would still remain a favorite poem. Even now it has passed +through numerous editions, and been but lately republished in sumptuous +form after fifty years of life; and in the catalogue of higher +metaphysico-religious poetry it will long maintain an honorable place. +It is cited here among the books whose fame rather than whose importance +_demand_ recognition. + + + FROM 'FESTUS' + + LIFE + + _Festus_-- Men's callings all + Are mean and vain; their wishes more so: oft + The man is bettered by his part or place. + How slight a chance may raise or sink a soul! + + _Lucifer_--What men call accident is God's own part. + He lets ye work your will--it is his own: + But that ye mean not, know not, do not, he doth. + + _Festus_--What is life worth without a heart to feel + The great and lovely harmonies which time + And nature change responsive, all writ out + By preconcertive hand which swells the strain + To divine fulness; feel the poetry, + The soothing rhythm of life's fore-ordered lay; + The sacredness of things?--for all things are + Sacred so far,--the worst of them, as seen + By the eye of God, they in the aspect bide + Of holiness: nor shall outlaw sin be slain, + Though rebel banned, within the sceptre's length; + But privileged even for service. Oh! to stand + Soul-raptured, on some lofty mountain-thought, + And feel the spirit expand into a view + Millennial, life-exalting, of a day + When earth shall have all leisure for high ends + Of social culture; ends a liberal law + And common peace of nations, blent with charge + Divine, shall win for man, were joy indeed: + Nor greatly less, to know what might be now, + Worked will for good with power, for one brief hour. + But look at these, these individual souls: + How sadly men show out of joint with man! + There are millions never think a noble thought; + But with brute hate of brightness bay a mind + Which drives the darkness out of them, like hounds. + Throw but a false glare round them, and in shoals + They rush upon perdition: that's the race. + What charm is in this world-scene to such minds? + Blinded by dust? What can they do in heaven, + A state of spiritual means and ends? + Thus must I doubt--perpetually doubt. + + _Lucifer_--Who never doubted never half believed. + Where doubt, there truth is--'tis her shadow. I + Declare unto thee that the past is not. + I have looked over all life, yet never seen + The age that had been. Why then fear or dream + About the future? Nothing but what is, is; + Else God were not the Maker that he seems, + As constant in creating as in being. + Embrace the present. Let the future pass. + Plague not thyself about a future. That + Only which comes direct from God, his spirit, + Is deathless. Nature gravitates without + Effort; and so all mortal natures fall + Deathwards. All aspiration is a toil; + But inspiration cometh from above, + And is no labor. The earth's inborn strength + Could never lift her up to yon stars, whence + She fell; nor human soul, by native worth, + Claim heaven as birthright, more than man may call + Cloudland his home. The soul's inheritance, + Its birth-place, and its death-place, is of earth; + Until God maketh earth and soul anew; + The one like heaven, the other like himself. + So shall the new creation come at once; + Sin, the dead branch upon the tree of life + Shall be cut off forever; and all souls + Concluded in God's boundless amnesty. + + _Festus_--Thou windest and unwindest faith at will. + What am I to believe? + + _Lucifer_-- Thou mayest believe + But that thou art forced to. + + _Festus_-- Then I feel, perforce, + That instinct of immortal life in me, + Which prompts me to provide for it. + + _Lucifer_-- Perhaps. + _Festus_--Man hath a knowledge of a time to come-- + His most important knowledge: the weight lies + Nearest the short end; and the world depends + Upon what is to be. I would deny + The present, if the future. Oh! there is + A life to come, or all's a dream. + + _Lucifer_--And all + May be a dream. Thou seest in thine, men, deeds, + Clear, moving, full of speech and order; then + Why may not all this world be but a dream + Of God's? Fear not! Some morning God may waken. + + _Festus_--I would it were. This life's a mystery. + The value of a thought cannot be told; + But it is clearly worth a thousand lives + Like many men's. And yet men love to live + As if mere life were worth their living for. + What but perdition will it be to most? + Life's more than breath and the quick round of blood; + It is a great spirit and a busy heart. + The coward and the small in soul scarce do live. + One generous feeling--one great thought--one deed + Of good, ere night, would make life longer seem + Than if each year might number a thousand days, + Spent as is this by nations of mankind. + We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; + In feelings, not in figures on a dial. + We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives + Who thinks most--feels the noblest--acts the best. + Life's but a means unto an end--that end + Beginning, mean, and end to all things--God. + The dead have all the glory of the world. + Why will we live and not be glorious? + We never can be deathless till we die. + It is the dead win battles. And the breath + Of those who through the world drive like a wedge, + Tearing earth's empires up, nears Death so close + It dims his well-worn scythe. But no! the brave + Die never. Being deathless, they but change + Their country's arms for more--their country's heart. + Give then the dead their due: it is they who saved us. + The rapid and the deep--the fall, the gulph, + Have likenesses in feeling and in life. + And life, so varied, hath more loveliness + In one day than a creeping century + Of sameness. But youth loves and lives on change, + Till the soul sighs for sameness; which at last + Becomes variety, and takes its place. + Yet some will last to die out, thought by thought, + And power by power, and limb of mind by limb, + Like lamps upon a gay device of glass, + Till all of soul that's left be dry and dark; + Till even the burden of some ninety years + Hath crashed into them like a rock; shattered + Their system as if ninety suns had rushed + To ruin earth--or heaven had rained its stars; + Till they become like scrolls, unreadable, + Through dust and mold. Can they be cleaned and read? + Do human spirits wax and wane like moons? + + _Lucifer_--The eye dims, and the heart gets old and slow; + The lithe limbs stiffen, and the sun-hued locks + Thin themselves off, or whitely wither; still, + Ages not spirit, even in one point, + Immeasurably small; from orb to orb, + Rising in radiance ever like the sun + Shining upon the thousand lands of earth. + + + THE PASSING-BELL + + Clara--True prophet mayst thou be. But list: that sound + The passing-bell the spirit should solemnize; + For, while on its emancipate path, the soul + Still waves its upward wings, and we still hear + The warning sound, it is known, we well may pray. + + _Festus_--But pray for whom? + + _Clara_--It means not. Pray for all. + Pray for the good man's soul: + + He is leaving earth for heaven, + And it soothes us to feel that the best + May be forgiven. + + _Festus_--Pray for the sinful soul: + It fleëth, we know not where; + But wherever it be let us hope; + For God is there. + + _Clara_--Pray for the rich man's soul: + Not all be unjust, nor vain; + The wise he consoled; and he saved + The poor from pain. + + _Festus_--Pray for the poor man's soul: + The death of this life of ours + He hath shook from his feet; he is one + Of the heavenly powers. + + Pray for the old man's soul: + He hath labored long; through life + It was battle or march. He hath ceased, + Serene, from strife. + + _Clara_--Pray for the infant's soul: + With its spirit crown unsoiled, + He hath won, without war, a realm; + Gained all, nor toiled. + + _Festus_--Pray for the struggling soul: + The mists of the straits of death + Clear off; in some bright star-isle + It anchoreth. + + Pray for the soul assured: + Though it wrought in a gloomy mine, + Yet the gems it earned were its own, + That soul's divine. + + _Clara_--Pray for the simple soul: + For it loved, and therein was wise; + Though itself knew not, but with heaven + Confused the skies. + + _Festus_--Pray for the sage's soul: + 'Neath his welkin wide of mind + Lay the central thought of God, + Thought undefined. + + Pray for the souls of all + To our God, that all may be + With forgiveness crowned, and joy + Eternally. + + _Clara_--Hush! for the bell hath ceased; + And the spirit's fate is sealed; + To the angels known; to man + Best unrevealed. + + + THOUGHTS + + FESTUS--Well, farewell, Mr. Student. May you never + Regret those hours which make the mind, if they + Unmake the body; for the sooner we + Are fit to be all mind, the better. Blessed + Is he whose heart is the home of the great dead, + And their great thoughts. Who can mistake great thoughts + They seize upon the mind; arrest and search, + And shake it; bow the tall soul as by wind; + Rush over it like a river over reeds, + Which quaver in the current; turn us cold, + And pale, and voiceless; leaving in the brain + A rocking and a ringing; glorious, + But momentary, madness might it last, + And close the soul with heaven as with a seal! + In lieu of all these things whose loss thou mournest, + If earnestly or not I know not, use + The great and good and true which ever live; + And are all common to pure eyes and true. + Upon the summit of each mountain-thought + Worship thou God, with heaven-uplifted head + And arms horizon-stretched; for deity is seen + From every elevation of the soul. + Study the light; attempt the high; seek out + The soul's bright path; and since the soul is fire, + Of heat intelligential, turn it aye + To the all-Fatherly source of light and life; + Piety purifies the soul to see + Visions, perpetually, of grace and power, + Which, to their sight who in ignorant sin abide, + Are now as e'er incognizable. Obey + Thy genius, for a minister it is + Unto the throne of Fate. Draw towards thy soul, + And centralize, the rays which are around + Of the divinity. Keep thy spirit pure + From worldly taint, by the repellent strength + Of virtue. Think on noble thoughts and deeds, + Ever. Count o'er the rosary of truth; + And practice precepts which are proven wise, + It matters not then what thou fearest. Walk + Boldly and wisely in that light thou hast;-- + There is a hand above will help thee on. + I am an omnist, and believe in all + Religions; fragments of one golden world + To be relit yet, and take its place in heaven, + Where is the whole, sole truth, in deity. + Meanwhile, his word, his law, writ soulwise here, + Study; its truths love; practice its behests-- + They will be with thee when all else have gone. + Mind, body, passion all wear out; not faith + Nor truth. Keep thy heart cool, or rule its heat + To fixed ends; waste it not upon itself. + Not all the agony maybe of the damned + Fused in one pang, vies with that earthquake throb + Which wakens soul from life-waste, to let see + The world rolled by for aye, and we must wait + For our next chance the nigh eternity; + Whether it be in heaven, or elsewhere. + + + DREAMS + + FESTUS--The dead of night: earth seems but seeming; + The soul seems but a something dreaming. + The bird is dreaming in its nest, + Of song, and sky, and loved one's breast; + The lap-dog dreams, as round he lies, + In moonshine, of his mistress's eyes; + The steed is dreaming, in his stall, + Of one long breathless leap and fall; + The hawk hath dreamed him thrice of wings + Wide as the skies he may not cleave; + But waking, feels them clipped, and clings + Mad to the perch 'twere mad to leave: + The child is dreaming of its toys; + The murderer, of calm home joys; + The weak are dreaming endless fears; + The proud of how their pride appears; + The poor enthusiast who dies, + Of his life-dreams the sacrifice, + Sees, as enthusiast only can, + The truth that made him more than man; + And hears once more, in visioned trance, + That voice commanding to advance, + Where wealth is gained--love, wisdom won, + Or deeds of danger dared and done. + The mother dreameth of her child; + The maid of him who hath beguiled; + The youth of her he loves too well; + The good of God; the ill of hell; + Who live of death; of life who die; + The dead of immortality. + The earth is dreaming back her youth; + Hell never dreams, for woe is truth; + And heaven is dreaming o'er her prime, + Long ere the morning stars of time; + And dream of heaven alone can I, + My lovely one, when thou art nigh. + + + CHORUS OF THE SAVED + + From the Conclusion + + Father of goodness, + Son of love, + Spirit of comfort, + Be with us! + God who hast made us, + God who hast saved, + God who hast judged us, + Thee we praise. + Heaven our spirits, + Hallow our hearts; + Let us have God-light + Endlessly. + Ours is the wide world, + Heaven on heaven; + What have we done, Lord, + Worthy this? + Oh! we have loved thee; + That alone + Maketh our glory, + Duty, meed. + Oh! we have loved thee! + Love we will + Ever, and every + Soul of us. + God of the saved, + God of the tried, + God of the lost ones, + Be with all! + Let us be near thee + Ever and aye; + Oh! let us love thee + Infinite! + + + + +JOANNA BAILLIE + +(1762-1851) + + +Joanna Baillie's early childhood was passed at Bothwell, Scotland, where +she was born in 1762. Of this time she drew a picture in her well-known +birthday lines to her sister:-- + + "Dear Agnes, gleamed with joy, and dashed with tears, O'er us + have glided almost sixty years Since we on Bothwell's bonny + braes were seen, By those whose eyes long closed in death + have been: Two tiny imps, who scarcely stooped to gather The + slender harebell, or the purple heather; No taller than the + foxglove's spiky stem, That dew of morning studs with silvery + gem. Then every butterfly that crossed our view With joyful + shout was greeted as it flew, And moth and lady-bird and + beetle bright In sheeny gold were each a wondrous sight. Then + as we paddled barefoot, side by side, Among the sunny + shallows of the Clyde, Minnows or spotted par with twinkling + fin, Swimming in mazy rings the pool within, A thrill of + gladness through our bosoms sent Seen in the power of early + wonderment." + +[Illustration: JOANNA BAILLIE] + +When Joanna was six her father was appointed to the charge of the kirk +at Hamilton. Her early growth went on, not in books, but in the +fearlessness with which she ran upon the top of walls and parapets of +bridges and in all daring. "Look at Miss Jack," said a farmer, as she +dashed by: "she sits her horse as if it were a bit of herself." At +eleven she could not read well. "'Twas thou," she said in lines to +her sister-- + + "'Twas thou who woo'dst me first to look + Upon the page of printed book, + That thing by me abhorred, and with address + Didst win me from my thoughtless idleness, + When all too old become with bootless haste + In fitful sports the precious time to waste. + Thy love of tale and story was the stroke + At which my dormant fancy first awoke, + And ghosts and witches in my busy brain + Arose in sombre show, a motley train." + +In 1776 Dr. James Baillie was made Professor of Divinity at Glasgow +University. During the two years the family lived in the college +atmosphere, Joanna first read 'Comus,' and, led by the delight it +awakened, the great epic of Milton. It was here that her vigor and +disputatious turn of mind "cast an awe" over her companions. After her +father's death she settled, in 1784, with her mother and brother and +sister in London. + +She had made herself familiar with English literature, and above all she +had studied Shakespeare with enthusiasm. Circumscribed now by the brick +and mortar of London streets, in exchange for the fair views and +liberties of her native fruitlands, Joanna found her first expression in +a volume of 'Fugitive Verses,' published in 1790. The book caused so +little comment that the words of but one friendly hand are preserved: +that the poems were "truly unsophisticated representations of nature." + +Joanna's walk was along calm and unhurried ways. She could have had a +considerable place in society and the world of "lions" if she had cared. +The wife of her uncle and name-father, the anatomist Dr. John Hunter, +was no other than the famous Mrs. Anne Hunter, a songwright of genius; +her poem 'The Son of Alknomook Shall Never Complain' is one of the +classics of English song, and the best rendering of the Indian spirit +ever condensed into so small a space. She was also a woman of grace and +dignity, a power in London drawing-rooms, and Haydn set songs of hers to +music. But the reserved Joanna was tempted to no light triumphs. Eight +years later was published her first volume of 'Plays on the Passions.' +It contained 'Basil,' a tragedy on love; 'The Trial,' a comedy on the +same subject; and 'De Montfort,' a tragedy on hatred. + +The thought of essaying dramatic composition had burst upon the author +one summer afternoon as she sat sewing with her mother. She had a high +moral purpose in her plan of composition, she said in her preface,--that +purpose being the ultimate utterance of the drama. Plot and incident she +set little value upon, and she rejected the presentation of the most +splendid event if it did not appertain to the development of the +passion. In other words, what is and was commonly of secondary +consideration in the swift passage of dramatic action became in her +hands the stated and paramount object. Feeling and passion are _not_ +precipitated by incident in her drama as in real life. The play 'De +Montfort' was presented at Drury Lane Theatre in 1800; but in spite of +every effort and the acting of John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, it had a +run of but eleven nights. + +In 1802 Miss Baillie published her second volume of 'Plays on the +Passions.' It contained a comedy on hatred; 'Ethwald,' a tragedy on +ambition; and a comedy on ambition. Her adherence to her old plan +brought upon her an attack from Jeffrey in the Edinburgh Review. He +claimed that the complexity of the moral nature of man made Joanna's +theory false and absurd, that a play was too narrow to show the complete +growth of a passion, and that the end of the drama is the entertainment +of the audience. He asserted that she imitated and plagiarized +Shakespeare; while he admitted her insight into human nature, her grasp +of character, and her devotion to her work. + +About the time of the appearance of this volume, Joanna fixed her +residence with her mother and sister, among the lanes and fields of +Hampstead, where they continued throughout their lives. The first volume +of 'Miscellaneous Plays' came out in 1804. In the preface she stated +that her opinions set forth in her first preface were unchanged. But the +plays had a freer construction. "Miss Baillie," wrote Jeffrey in his +review, "cannot possibly write a tragedy, or an act of a tragedy, +without showing genius and exemplifying a more dramatic conception and +expression than any of her modern competitor" 'Constantine Palaeologus,' +which the volume contained, had the liveliest commendation and +popularity, and was several times put upon the stage with +spectacular effect. + +In the year of the publication of Joanna's 'Miscellaneous Plays,' Sir +Walter Scott came to London, and seeking an introduction through a +common friend, made the way for a lifelong friendship between the two, +He had just brought out 'The Lay of the Last Minstrel.' Miss Baillie was +already a famous writer, with fast friends in Lucy Aikin, Mary Berry, +Mrs. Siddons, and other workers in art and literature; but the hearty +commendation of her countryman, which she is said to have come upon +unexpectedly when reading 'Marmion' to a group of friends, she valued +beyond other praise. The legend is that she read through the passage +firmly to the close, and only lost self-control in her sympathy with the +emotion of a friend:-- + + "--The wild harp that silent hung + By silver Avon's holy shore + Till twice one hundred years rolled o'er, + When she the bold enchantress came, + From the pale willow snatched the treasure, + With fearless hand and heart in flame, + And swept it with a kindred measure; + Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove + With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, + Awakening at the inspired strain, + Deemed their own Shakespeare lived again." + +The year 1810 saw 'The Family Legend,' a play founded on a tragic +history of the Campbell clan. Scott wrote a prologue and brought out the +play in the Edinburgh Theatre. "You have only to imagine," he told the +author, "all that you could wish to give success to a play, and your +conceptions will still fall short of the complete and decided triumph of +'The Family Legend.'" + +The attacks which Jeffrey had made upon her verse were continued when +she published, in 1812, her third volume of 'Plays on the Passions.' His +voice, however, did not diminish the admiration for the +character-drawing with which the book was greeted, or for the lyric +outbursts occurring now and then in the dramas. + +Joanna's quiet Hampstead life was broken in 1813 by a genial meeting in +London with the ambitious Madame de Staël, and again with the vivacious +little Irishwoman, Maria Edgeworth. She was keeping her promise of not +writing more; but during a visit to Sir Walter in 1820 her imagination +was touched by Scotch tales, and she published 'Metrical Legends' the +following year. In this vast Abbotsford she finally consented to meet +Jeffrey. The plucky little writer and the unshrinking critic at once +became friends, and thenceforward Jeffrey never went to London without +visiting her in Hampstead. + +Her moral courage throughout life recalls the physical courage which +characterized her youth. She never concealed her religious convictions, +and in 1831 she published her ideas in 'A View of the General Tenor of +the New Testament Regarding the Nature and Dignity of Jesus Christ.' In +1836, having finally given up the long hope of seeing her plays become +popular upon the stage, she prepared a complete edition of her dramas +with the addition of three plays never before made public,--'Romiero,' a +tragedy, 'The Alienated Manor,' a comedy on jealousy, and 'Henriquez,' a +tragedy on remorse. The Edinburgh Review immediately put forth a +eulogistic notice of the collected edition, and at last admitted that +the reviewer had changed his judgment, and esteemed the author as a +dramatist above Byron and Scott. + +"May God support both you and me, and give us comfort and consolation +when it is most wanted," wrote Miss Baillie to Mary Berry in 1837. "As +for myself, I do not wish to be one year younger than I am; and have no +desire, were it possible, to begin life again, even under the most +honorable circumstances. I have great cause for humble thankfulness, and +I am thankful." + +In 1840 Jeffrey wrote:--"I have been twice out to Hampstead, and found +Joanna Baillie as fresh, natural, and amiable as ever, and as little +like a tragic muse." And again in 1842:--"She is marvelous in health and +spirit; not a bit deaf, blind, or torpid." About this time she published +her last book, a volume of 'Fugitive Verses.' + +"A sweeter picture of old age was never seen," wrote Harriet Martineau. +"Her figure was small, light, and active; her countenance, in its +expression of serenity, harmonized wonderfully with her gay conversation +and her cheerful voice. Her eyes were beautiful, dark, bright, and +penetrating, with the full innocent gaze of childhood. Her face was +altogether comely, and her dress did justice to it. She wore her own +silvery hair and a mob cap, with its delicate lace border fitting close +around her face. She was well dressed, in handsome dark silks, and her +lace caps and collars looked always new. No Quaker was ever neater, +while she kept up with the times in her dress as in her habit of mind, +as far as became her years. In her whole appearance there was always +something for even the passing stranger to admire, and never anything +for the most familiar friend to wish otherwise." She died, "without +suffering, in the full possession of her faculties," in her ninetieth +year, 1851. + +Her dramatic and poetical works are collected in one volume (1843). Her +Life, with selections from her songs, may be found in 'The Songstress of +Scotland,' by Sarah Tytler and J.L. Watson (1871). + + + WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A' + + The bride she is winsome and bonny, + Her hair it is snooded sae sleek, + And faithfu' and kind is her Johnny, + Yet fast fa' the tears on her cheek. + New pearlins are cause of her sorrow, + New pearlins and plenishing too: + The bride that has a' to borrow. + Has e'en right mickle ado. + Woo'd and married and a'! + Woo'd and married and a'! + Isna she very weel aff + To be woo'd and married at a'? + + Her mither then hastily spak:-- + "The lassie is glaikit wi' pride; + In my pouch I had never a plack + On the day when I was a bride. + E'en tak' to your wheel and be clever, + And draw out your thread in the sun; + The gear that is gifted, it never + Will last like the gear that is won. + Woo'd and married and a'! + Wi' havins and tocher sae sma'! + I think ye are very weel aff + To be woo'd and married at a'!" + + "Toot, toot!" quo' her gray-headed faither, + "She's less o' a bride than a bairn; + She's ta'en like a cout frae the heather, + Wi' sense and discretion to learn. + Half husband, I trow, and half daddy, + As humor inconstantly leans, + The chiel maun be patient and steady + That yokes wi' a mate in her teens. + A kerchief sae douce and sae neat, + O'er her locks that the wind used to blaw! + I'm baith like to laugh and to greet + When I think o' her married at a'." + + Then out spak' the wily bridegroom, + Weel waled were his wordies I ween:-- + "I'm rich, though my coffer be toom, + Wi' the blinks o' your bonny blue e'en. + I'm prouder o' thee by my side, + Though thy ruffles or ribbons be few, + Than if Kate o' the Croft were my bride, + Wi' purfles and pearlins enow. + Dear and dearest of ony! + Ye're woo'd and buiket and a'! + And do ye think scorn o' your Johnny, + And grieve to be married at a'?" + + She turn'd, and she blush'd, and she smil'd, + And she looket sae bashfully down; + The pride o' her heart was beguil'd, + And she played wi' the sleeves o' her gown; + She twirlet the tag o' her lace, + And she nippet her bodice sae blue, + Syne blinket sae sweet in his face, + And aff like a maukin she flew. + Woo'd and married and a'! + Wi' Johnny to roose her and a'! + She thinks hersel' very weel aff + To be woo'd and married at a'! + + + IT WAS ON A MORN WHEN WE WERE THRANG + + It was on a morn when we were thrang, + The kirn it croon'd, the cheese was making, + And bannocks on the girdle baking, + When ane at the door chapp't loud and lang. + Yet the auld gudewife, and her mays sae tight, + Of a' this bauld din took sma' notice I ween; + For a chap at the door in braid daylight + Is no like a chap that's heard at e'en. + + But the docksy auld laird of the Warlock glen, + Wha waited without, half blate, half cheery, + And langed for a sight o' his winsome deary, + Raised up the latch and cam' crousely ben. + His coat it was new, and his o'erlay was white, + His mittens and hose were cozie and bien; + But a wooer that comes in braid daylight + Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en. + + He greeted the carline and lasses sae braw, + And his bare lyart pow sae smoothly he straikit, + And he looket about, like a body half glaikit, + On bonny sweet Nanny, the youngest of a'. + "Ha, laird!" quo' the carline, "and look ye that way? + Fye, let na' sie fancies bewilder you clean: + An elderlin man, in the noon o' the day, + Should be wiser than youngsters that come at e'en. + + "Na, na," quo' the pawky auld wife, "I trow + You'll no fash your head wi' a youthfu' gilly, + As wild and as skeig as a muirland filly: + Black Madge is far better and fitter for you." + He hem'd and he haw'd, and he drew in his mouth, + And he squeezed the blue bannet his twa hands between; + For a wooer that comes when the sun's i' the south + Is mair landward than wooers that come at e'en. + + "Black Madge is sae carefu'"--"What's that to me?" + "She's sober and cydent, has sense in her noodle; + She's douce and respeckit"--"I carena a bodle: + Love winna be guided, and fancy's free." + Madge toss'd back her head wi' a saucy slight, + And Nanny, loud laughing, ran out to the green; + For a wooer that comes when the sun shines bright + Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en. + + Then away flung the laird, and loud mutter'd he, + "A' the daughters of Eve, between Orkney and Tweed O! + Black or fair, young or auld, dame or damsel or widow, + May gang in their pride to the de'il for me!" + But the auld gudewife, and her mays sae tight, + Cared little for a' his stour banning, I ween; + For a wooer that comes in braid daylight + Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en. + + + FY, LET US A' TO THE WEDDING + + (An Auld Sang, New Buskit) + + Fy, let us a' to the wedding, + For they will be lilting there; + For Jock's to be married to Maggy, + The lass wi' the gowden hair. + + And there will be jibing and jeering, + And glancing of bonny dark een, + Loud laughing and smooth-gabbit speering + O' questions baith pawky and keen. + + And there will be Bessy the beauty, + Wha raises her cockup sae hie, + And giggles at preachings and duty,-- + Guid grant that she gang na' ajee! + + And there will be auld Geordie Taunner, + Wha coft a young wife wi' his gowd; + She'll flaunt wi' a silk gown upon her, + But wow! he looks dowie and cow'd. + + And brown Tibbey Fouler the Heiress + Will perk at the tap o' the ha', + Encircled wi' suitors, wha's care is + To catch up her gloves when they fa',-- + + Repeat a' her jokes as they're cleckit, + And haver and glower in her face, + When tocherless mays are negleckit,-- + A crying and scandalous case. + + And Mysie, wha's clavering aunty + Wud match her wi' Laurie the Laird, + And learns the young fule to be vaunty, + But neither to spin nor to caird. + + And Andrew, wha's granny is yearning + To see him a clerical blade, + Was sent to the college for learning, + And cam' back a coof as he gaed. + + And there will be auld Widow Martin, + That ca's hersel thritty and twa! + And thraw-gabbit Madge, wha for certain + Was jilted by Hab o' the Shaw. + + And Elspy the sewster sae genty, + A pattern of havens and sense. + Will straik on her mittens sae dainty, + And crack wi' Mess John i' the spence. + + And Angus, the seer o' ferlies, + That sits on the stane at his door, + And tells about bogles, and mair lies + Than tongue ever utter'd before. + + And there will be Bauldy the boaster + Sae ready wi' hands and wi' tongue; + Proud Paty and silly Sam Foster, + Wha quarrel wi' auld and wi' young: + + And Hugh the town-writer, I'm thinking, + That trades in his lawerly skill, + Will egg on the fighting and drinking + To bring after-grist to his mill; + + And Maggy--na, na! we'll be civil, + And let the wee bridie a-be; + A vilipend tongue is the devil, + And ne'er was encouraged by me. + + Then fy, let us a' to the wedding, + For they will be lilting there + Frae mony a far-distant ha'ding, + The fun and the feasting to share. + + For they will get sheep's head, and haggis, + And browst o' the barley-mow; + E'en he that comes latest, and lag is, + May feast upon dainties enow. + + Veal florentines in the o'en baken, + Weel plenish'd wi' raisins and fat; + Beef, mutton, and chuckies, a' taken + Het reeking frae spit and frae pat: + + And glasses (I trow 'tis na' said ill), + To drink the young couple good luck, + Weel fill'd wi' a braw beechen ladle + Frae punch-bowl as big as Dumbuck. + + And then will come dancing and daffing, + And reelin' and crossin' o' hans, + Till even auld Lucky is laughing, + As back by the aumry she stans. + + Sic bobbing and flinging and whirling, + While fiddlers are making their din; + And pipers are droning and skirling + As loud as the roar o' the lin. + + Then fy, let us a' to the wedding, + For they will be lilting there, + For Jock's to be married to Maggy, + The lass wi' the gowden hair. + + + THE WEARY PUND O' TOW + + A young gudewife is in my house + And thrifty means to be, + But aye she's runnin' to the town + Some ferlie there to see. + The weary pund, the weary pund, the weary pund o' tow, + I soothly think, ere it be spun, I'll wear a lyart pow. + + And when she sets her to her wheel + To draw her threads wi' care, + In comes the chapman wi' his gear, + And she can spin nae mair. + The weary pund, etc. + + And she, like ony merry may, + At fairs maun still be seen, + At kirkyard preachings near the tent, + At dances on the green. + The weary pund, etc. + + Her dainty ear a fiddle charms, + A bagpipe's her delight, + But for the crooning o' her wheel + She disna care a mite. + The weary pund, etc. + + You spake, my Kate, of snaw-white webs, + Made o' your linkum twine, + But, ah! I fear our bonny burn + Will ne'er lave web o' thine. + The weary pund, etc. + + Nay, smile again, my winsome mate; + Sic jeering means nae ill; + Should I gae sarkless to my grave, + I'll lo'e and bless thee still. + The weary pund, etc. + + + FROM 'DE MONTFORT': A TRAGEDY + + ACT V--SCENE III + +_Moonlight. A wild path in a wood, shaded with trees. Enter _De Montfort_, +with a strong expression of disquiet, mixed with fear, upon his +face, looking behind him, and bending his ear to the ground, as if +he listened to something._ + + De Montfort--How hollow groans the earth beneath my tread: + Is there an echo here? Methinks it sounds + As though some heavy footsteps followed me. + I will advance no farther. + Deep settled shadows rest across the path, + And thickly-tangled boughs o'erhang this spot. + O that a tenfold gloom did cover it, + That 'mid the murky darkness I might strike! + As in the wild confusion of a dream, + Things horrid, bloody, terrible do pass, + As though they passed not; nor impress the mind + With the fixed clearness of reality. + + [_An owl is heard screaming near him._] + + [_Starting._] What sound is that? + + [_Listens, and the owl cries again._] + + It is the screech-owl's cry. + Foul bird of night! What spirit guides thee here? + Art thou instinctive drawn to scenes of horror? + I've heard of this. + [_Pauses and listens._] + How those fallen leaves so rustle on the path, + With whispering noise, as though the earth around me + Did utter secret things. + The distant river, too, bears to mine ear + A dismal wailing. O mysterious night! + Thou art not silent; many tongues hast thou. + A distant gathering blast sounds through the wood, + And dark clouds fleetly hasten o'er the sky; + Oh that a storm would rise, a raging storm; + Amidst the roar of warring elements + I'd lift my hand and strike! but this pale light, + The calm distinctness of each stilly thing, + Is terrible.--[_Starting._] Footsteps, and near me, too! + He comes! he comes! I'll watch him farther on-- + I cannot do it here. + [_Exit._] + +_Enter_ Rezenvelt, _and continues his way slowly from the bottom of the +stage; as he advances to the front, the owl screams, he stops and +listens, and the owl screams again._ + + _Rezenvelt_--Ha! does the night-bird greet me on my way? + How much his hooting is in harmony + With such a scene as this! I like it well. + Oft when a boy, at the still twilight hour, + I've leant my back against some knotted oak, + And loudly mimicked him, till to my call + He answer would return, and through the gloom + We friendly converse held. + Between me and the star-bespangled sky, + Those aged oaks their crossing branches wave, + And through them looks the pale and placid moon. + How like a crocodile, or winged snake, + Yon sailing cloud bears on its dusky length! + And now transformed by the passing wind, + Methinks it seems a flying Pegasus. + Ay, but a shapeless band of blacker hue + Comes swiftly after.-- + A hollow murm'ring wind sounds through the trees; + I hear it from afar; this bodes a storm. + I must not linger here-- + + [_A bell heard at some distance._] The convent bell. + 'Tis distant still: it tells their hour of prayer. + It sends a solemn sound upon the breeze, + That, to a fearful, superstitious mind, + In such a scene, would like a death-knell come. + [_Exit._] + + + TO MRS. SIDDONS + + Gifted of heaven! who hast, in days gone by, + Moved every heart, delighted every eye; + While age and youth, of high and low degree, + In sympathy were joined, beholding thee, + As in the Drama's ever-changing scene + Thou heldst thy splendid state, our tragic queen! + No barriers there thy fair domains confined, + Thy sovereign sway was o'er the human mind; + And in the triumph of that witching hour, + Thy lofty bearing well became thy power. + + The impassioned changes of thy beauteous face, + Thy stately form, and high imperial grace; + Thine arms impetuous tossed, thy robe's wide flow, + And the dark tempest gathered on thy brow; + What time thy flashing eye and lip of scorn + Down to the dust thy mimic foes have borne; + Remorseful musings, sunk to deep dejection, + The fixed and yearning looks of strong affection; + The active turmoil a wrought bosom rending, + When pity, love, and honor, are contending;-- + They who beheld all this, right well, I ween, + A lovely, grand, and wondrous sight have seen. + + Thy varied accents, rapid, fitful, slow, + Loud rage, and fear's snatched whisper, quick and low; + The burst of stifled love, the wail of grief, + And tones of high command, full, solemn, brief; + The change of voice, and emphasis that threw + Light on obscurity, and brought to view + Distinctions nice, when grave or comic mood, + Or mingled humors, terse and new, elude + Common perception, as earth's smallest things + To size and form the vesting hoar-frost brings, + That seemed as if some secret voice, to clear + The raveled meaning, whispered in thine ear, + And thou hadst e'en with him communion kept, + Who hath so long in Stratford's chancel slept; + Whose lines, where nature's brightest traces shine, + Alone were worthy deemed of powers like thine;-- + They who have heard all this, have proved full well + Of soul-exciting sound the mightiest spell. + But though time's lengthened shadows o'er thee glide, + And pomp of regal state is cast aside, + Think not the glory of thy course is spent, + There's moonlight radiance to thy evening lent, + That to the mental world can never fade, + Till all who saw thee, in the grave are laid. + Thy graceful form still moves in nightly dreams, + And what thou wast, to the lulled sleeper seems; + While feverish fancy oft doth fondly trace + Within her curtained couch thy wondrous face. + Yea; and to many a wight, bereft and lone, + In musing hours, though all to thee unknown, + Soothing his earthly course of good and ill, + With all thy potent charm, thou actest still. + And now in crowded room or rich saloon, + Thy stately presence recognized, how soon + On thee the glance of many an eye is cast, + In grateful memory of pleasures past! + Pleased to behold thee, with becoming grace, + Take, as befits thee well, an honored place; + Where blest by many a heart, long mayst thou stand, + Among the virtuous matrons of our land! + + + A SCOTCH SONG + + The gowan glitters on the sward, + The lavrock's in the sky, + And collie on my plaid keeps ward, + And time is passing by. + Oh no! sad and slow + And lengthened on the ground, + The shadow of our trysting bush + It wears so slowly round! + + My sheep-bell tinkles frae the west, + My lambs are bleating near, + But still the sound that I lo'e best, + Alack! I canna' hear. + Oh no! sad and slow, + The shadow lingers still, + And like a lanely ghaist I stand + And croon upon the hill. + + I hear below the water roar, + The mill wi' clacking din, + And Lucky scolding frae her door, + To ca' the bairnies in. + Oh no! sad and slow, + These are na' sounds for me, + The shadow of our trysting bush, + It creeps so drearily! + + I coft yestreen, frae Chapman Tarn, + A snood of bonny blue, + And promised when our trysting cam', + To tie it round her brow. + Oh no! sad and slow, + The mark it winna' pass; + The shadow of that weary thorn + Is tethered on the grass. + + Oh, now I see her on the way, + She's past the witch's knowe, + She's climbing up the Browny's brae, + My heart is in a lowe! + Oh no! 'tis no' so, + 'Tis glam'rie I have seen; + The shadow of that hawthorn bush + Will move na' mair till e'en. + + My book o' grace I'll try to read, + Though conn'd wi' little skill, + When collie barks I'll raise my head, + And find her on the hill. + Oh no! sad and slow, + The time will ne'er be gane, + The shadow of the trysting bush + Is fixed like ony stane. + + + SONG, 'POVERTY PARTS GOOD COMPANY' + + For an old Scotch Air + + When my o'erlay was white as the foam o' the lin, + And siller was chinkin my pouches within, + When my lambkins were bleatin on meadow and brae, + As I went to my love in new cleeding sae gay, + Kind was she, and my friends were free, + But poverty parts good company. + + How swift passed the minutes and hours of delight, + When piper played cheerly, and crusie burned bright, + And linked in my hand was the maiden sae dear, + As she footed the floor in her holyday gear! + Woe is me; and can it then be, + That poverty parts sic company? + + We met at the fair, and we met at the kirk, + We met i' the sunshine, we met i' the mirk; + And the sound o' her voice, and the blinks o' her een, + The cheerin and life of my bosom hae been. + Leaves frae the tree at Martinmass flee, + And poverty parts sweet company. + + At bridal and infare I braced me wi' pride, + The broose I hae won, and a kiss o' the bride; + And loud was the laughter good fellows among, + As I uttered my banter or chorused my song; + Dowie and dree are jestin and glee, + When poverty spoils good company. + + Wherever I gaed, kindly lasses looked sweet, + And mithers and aunties were unco discreet; + While kebbuck and bicker were set on the board: + But now they pass by me, and never a word! + Sae let it be, for the worldly and slee + Wi' poverty keep nae company. + + But the hope of my love is a cure for its smart, + And the spae-wife has tauld me to keep up my heart; + For, wi' my last saxpence, her loof I hae crost, + And the bliss that is fated can never be lost, + Though cruelly we may ilka day see + How poverty parts dear company. + + + THE KITTEN + + Wanton droll, whose harmless play + Beguiles the rustic's closing day, + When, drawn the evening fire about, + Sit aged crone and thoughtless lout, + And child upon his three-foot stool, + Waiting until his supper cool, + And maid whose cheek outblooms the rose, + As bright the blazing fagot glows, + Who, bending to the friendly light, + Plies her task with busy sleight, + Come, show thy tricks and sportive graces, + Thus circled round with merry faces: + Backward coiled and crouching low, + With glaring eyeballs watch thy foe, + The housewife's spindle whirling round, + Or thread or straw that on the ground + Its shadow throws, by urchin sly + Held out to lure thy roving eye; + Then stealing onward, fiercely spring + Upon the tempting, faithless thing. + Now, wheeling round with bootless skill, + Thy bo-peep tail provokes thee still, + As still beyond thy curving side + Its jetty tip is seen to glide; + Till from thy centre starting far, + Thou sidelong veer'st with rump in air + Erected stiff, and gait awry, + Like madam in her tantrums high; + Though ne'er a madam of them all, + Whose silken kirtle sweeps the hall, + More varied trick and whim displays + To catch the admiring stranger's gaze. + Doth power in measured verses dwell, + All thy vagaries wild to tell? + Ah, no! the start, the jet, the bound, + The giddy scamper round and round, + With leap and toss and high curvet, + And many a whirling somerset, + (Permitted by the modern muse + Expression technical to use)--These + mock the deftest rhymester's skill, + But poor in art, though rich in will. + + The featest tumbler, stage bedight, + To thee is but a clumsy wight, + Who every limb and sinew strains + To do what costs thee little pains; + For which, I trow, the gaping crowd + Requite him oft with plaudits loud. + + But, stopped the while thy wanton play, + Applauses too thy pains repay: + For then, beneath some urchin's hand + With modest pride thou takest thy stand, + While many a stroke of kindness glides + Along thy back and tabby sides. + Dilated swells thy glossy fur, + And loudly croons thy busy purr, + As, timing well the equal sound, + Thy clutching feet bepat the ground, + And all their harmless claws disclose + Like prickles of an early rose, + While softly from thy whiskered cheek + Thy half-closed eyes peer, mild and meek. + + But not alone by cottage fire + Do rustics rude thy feats admire. + The learned sage, whose thoughts explore + The widest range of human lore, + Or with unfettered fancy fly + Through airy heights of poesy, + Pausing smiles with altered air + To see thee climb his elbow-chair, + Or, struggling on the mat below, + Hold warfare with his slippered toe. + The widowed dame or lonely maid, + Who, in the still but cheerless shade + Of home unsocial, spends her age, + And rarely turns a lettered page, + Upon her hearth for thee lets fall + The rounded cork or paper ball, + Nor chides thee on thy wicked watch, + The ends of raveled skein to catch, + But lets thee have thy wayward will, + Perplexing oft her better skill. + + E'en he whose mind, of gloomy bent, + In lonely tower or prison pent, + Reviews the coil of former days, + And loathes the world and all its ways, + What time the lamp's unsteady gleam + Hath roused him from his moody dream, + Feels, as thou gambol'st round his seat, + His heart of pride less fiercely beat, + And smiles, a link in thee to find + That joins it still to living kind. + + Whence hast thou then, thou witless puss! + The magic power to charm us thus? + Is it that in thy glaring eye + And rapid movements we descry-- + Whilst we at ease, secure from ill, + The chimney corner snugly fill-- + A lion darting on his prey, + A tiger at his ruthless play? + Or is it that in thee we trace, + With all thy varied wanton grace, + An emblem, viewed with kindred eye + Of tricky, restless infancy? + Ah! many a lightly sportive child, + Who hath like thee our wits beguiled, + To dull and sober manhood grown, + With strange recoil our hearts disown. + + And so, poor kit! must thou endure, + When thou becom'st a cat demure, + Full many a cuff and angry word, + Chased roughly from the tempting board. + But yet, for that thou hast, I ween, + So oft our favored playmate been, + Soft be the change which thou shalt prove! + When time hath spoiled thee of our love, + Still be thou deemed by housewife fat + A comely, careful, mousing cat, + Whose dish is, for the public good, + Replenished oft with savory food, + Nor, when thy span of life is past, + Be thou to pond or dung-hill cast, + But, gently borne on goodman's spade, + Beneath the decent sod be laid; + And children show with glistening eyes + The place where poor old pussy lies. + + + + +HENRY MARTYN BAIRD + +(1832-) + + +That stirring period of the history of France which in certain of its +features has been made so familiar by Dumas through the 'Three +Musketeers' series and others of his fascinating novels, is that which +has been the theme of Dr. Baird in the substantial work to which so many +years of his life have been devoted. It is to the elucidation of one +portion only of the history of this period that he has given himself; +but although in this, the story of the Huguenots, nominally only a +matter of religious belief was involved, it in fact embraced almost the +entire internal politics of the nation, and the struggles for supremacy +of its ambitious families, as well as the effort to achieve +religious freedom. + +[Illustration: HENRY M. BAIRD] + +In these separate but related works the incidents of the whole +Protestant movement have been treated. The first of these, 'The History +of the Rise of the Huguenots in France' (1879), carries the story to the +time of Henry of Valois (1574), covering the massacre of St. +Bartholomew; the second, 'The Huguenots and Henry of Navarre' (1886), +covers the Protestant ascendancy and the Edict of Nantes, and ends with +the assassination of Henry in 1610; and the third, 'The Huguenots and +the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes' (1895), completes the main story, +and indeed brings the narrative down to a date much later than the title +seems to imply. + +It may be said, perhaps, that Dr. Baird holds a brief for the plaintiff +in the case; but his work does not produce the impression of being that +of a violently prejudiced, although an interested, writer. He is cool +and careful, writing with precision, and avoiding even the effects which +the historian may reasonably feel himself entitled to produce, and of +which the period naturally offers so many. + +Henry Martyn Baird was born in Philadelphia, January 17th, 1832, and was +educated at the University of the City of New York and the University of +Athens, and at Union and Princeton Theological Seminaries. In 1855 he +became a tutor at Princeton; and in the following year he published an +interesting volume on 'Modern Greece, a Narrative of Residence and +Travel.' In 1859 he was appointed to the chair of Greek Language and +Literature in the University of the City of New York. + +In addition to the works heretofore named, he is the author of a +biography of his father, Robert Baird, D.D. + + +THE BATTLE OF IVRY + +From 'The Huguenots and Henry of Navarre': Charles Scribner's Sons. + +The battle began with a furious cannonade from the King's artillery, so +prompt that nine rounds of shot had been fired before the enemy were +ready to reply, so well directed that great havoc was made in the +opposing lines. Next, the light horse of M. de Rosne, upon the extreme +right of the Leaguers, made a dash upon Marshal d'Aumont, but were +valiantly received. Their example was followed by the German reiters, +who threw themselves upon the defenders of the King's artillery and upon +the light horse of Aumont, who came to their relief; then, after their +customary fashion, wheeled around, expecting to pass easily through the +gaps between the friendly corps of Mayenne and Egmont, and to reload +their firearms at their leisure in the rear, by way of preparation for a +second charge. + +Owing to the blunder of Tavannes, however, they met a serried line of +horse where they looked for an open field; and the Walloon cavalry found +themselves compelled to set their lances in threatening position to ward +off the dangerous onset of their retreating allies. Another charge, made +by a squadron of the Walloon lancers themselves, was bravely met by +Baron Biron. His example was imitated by the Duke of Montpensier farther +down the field. Although the one leader was twice wounded, and the other +had his horse killed under him, both ultimately succeeded in repulsing +the enemy. + +It was about this time that the main body of Henry's horse became +engaged with the gallant array of cavalry in their front. Mayenne had +placed upon the left of his squadron a body of four hundred mounted +carabineers. These, advancing first, rode rapidly toward the King's +line, took aim, and discharged their weapons with deadly effect within +twenty-five paces. Immediately afterward the main force of eighteen +hundred lancers presented themselves. The King had fastened a great +white plume to his helmet, and had adorned his horse's head with +another, equally conspicuous. "Comrades!" he now exclaimed to those +about him, "Comrades! God is for us! There are his enemies and ours! If +you lose sight of your standards, rally to my white plume; you will find +it on the road to victory and to honor." The Huguenots had knelt after +their fashion; again Gabriel d'Amours had offered for them a prayer to +the God of battles: but no Joyeuse dreamed of suspecting that they were +meditating surrender or flight. The King, with the brave Huguenot +minister's prediction of victory still ringing in his ears, plunged into +the thickest of the fight, two horses' length ahead of his companions. +That moment he forgot that he was King of France and general-in-chief, +both in one, and fought as if he were a private soldier. It was indeed a +bold venture. True, the enemy, partly because of the confusion induced +by the reiters, partly from the rapidity of the King's movements, had +lost in some measure the advantage they should have derived from their +lances, and were compelled to rely mainly upon their swords, as against +the firearms of their opponents. Still, they outnumbered the knights of +the King's squadron more than as two to one. No wonder that some of the +latter flinched and actually turned back; especially when the +standard-bearer of the King, receiving a deadly wound in the face, lost +control of his horse, and went riding aimlessly about the field, still +grasping the banner in grim desperation. But the greater number emulated +the courage of their leader. The white plume kept them in the road to +victory and to honor. Yet even this beacon seemed at one moment to fail +them. Another cavalier, who had ostentatiously decorated his helmet much +after the same fashion as the King, was slain in the hand-to-hand +conflict, and some, both of the Huguenots and of their enemies, for a +time supposed the great Protestant champion himself to have fallen. + +But although fiercely contested, the conflict was not long. The troopers +of Mayenne wavered, and finally fled. Henry of Navarre emerged from the +confusion, to the great relief of his anxious followers, safe and sound, +covered with dust and blood not his own. More than once he had been in +great personal peril. On his return from the melée, he halted, with a +handful of companions, under the pear-trees indicated beforehand as a +rallying-point, when he was descried and attacked by three bands of +Walloon horse that had not yet engaged in the fight. Only his own valor +and the timely arrival of some of his troops saved the imprudent monarch +from death or captivity. + +The rout of Mayenne's principal corps was quickly followed by the +disintegration of his entire army. The Swiss auxiliaries of the League, +though compelled to surrender their flags, were, as ancient allies of +the crown, admitted to honorable terms of capitulation. To the French, +who fell into the King's hands, he was equally clement. Indeed, he +spared no efforts to save their lives. But it was otherwise with the +German lansquenets. Their treachery at Arques, where they had pretended +to come over to the royal side only to turn upon those who had believed +their protestations and welcomed them to their ranks, was yet fresh in +the memory of all. They received no mercy at the King's hands. + +Gathering his available forces together, and strengthened by the +accession of old Marshal Biron, who had been compelled, much against his +will, to remain a passive spectator while others fought, Henry pursued +the remnants of the army of the League many a mile to Mantes and the +banks of the Seine. If their defeat by a greatly inferior force had been +little to the credit of either the generals or the troops of the League, +their precipitate flight was still less decorous. The much-vaunted +Flemish lancers distinguished themselves, it was said, by not pausing +until they found safety beyond the borders of France; and Mayenne, never +renowned for courage, emulated or surpassed them in the eagerness he +displayed, on reaching the little town from which the battle took its +name, to put as many leagues as possible between himself and his +pursuers. "The enemy thus ran away," says the Englishman William Lyly, +who was an eye-witness of the battle; "Mayenne to Ivry, where the +Walloons and reiters followed so fast that there standing, hasting to +draw breath, and not able to speak, he was constrained to draw his sword +to strike the flyers to make place for his own flight." + +The battle had been a short one. Between ten and eleven o'clock the +first attack was made; in less than an hour the army of the League was +routed. It had been a glorious action for the King and his old +Huguenots, and not less for the loyal Roman Catholics who clung to him. +None seemed discontented but old Marshal Biron, who, when he met the +King coming out of the fray with battered armor and blunted sword, could +not help contrasting the opportunity his Majesty had enjoyed to +distinguish himself with his own enforced inactivity, and exclaimed, +"Sire, this is not right! You have to-day done what Biron ought to have +done, and he has done what the King should have done." But even Biron +was unable to deny that the success of the royal arms surpassed all +expectation, and deserved to rank among the wonders of history. The +preponderance of the enemy in numbers had been great. There was no +question that the impetuous attacks of their cavalry upon the left wing +of the King were for a time almost successful. The official accounts +might conveniently be silent upon the point, but the truth could not be +disguised that at the moment Henry plunged into battle a part of his +line was grievously shaken, a part was in full retreat, and the prospect +was dark enough. Some of his immediate followers, indeed, at this time +turned countenance and were disposed to flee, whereupon he recalled them +to their duty with the words, "Look this way, in order that if you will +not fight, at least you may see me die." But the steady and determined +courage of the King, well seconded by soldiers not less brave, turned +the tide of battle. "The enemy took flight," says the devout Duplessis +Mornay, "terrified rather by God than by men; for it is certain that the +one side was not less shaken than the other." And with the flight of the +cavalry, Mayenne's infantry, constituting, as has been seen, +three-fourths of his entire army, gave up the day as lost, without +striking a blow for the cause they had come to support. How many men the +army of the League lost in killed and wounded it is difficult to say. +The Prince of Parma reported to his master the loss of two hundred and +seventy of the Flemish lancers, together with their commander, the Count +of Egmont. The historian De Thou estimates the entire number of deaths +on the side of the League, including the combatants that fell in the +battle and the fugitives drowned at the crossing of the river Eure, by +Ivry, at eight hundred. The official account, on the other hand, agrees +with Marshal Biron, in stating that of the cavalry alone more than +fifteen hundred died, and adds that four hundred were taken prisoners; +while Davila swells the total of the slain to the incredible sum of +upward of six thousand men. + + + + +SIR SAMUEL WHITE BAKER + +(1821-1893) + + +The Northwest Passage, the Pole itself, and the sources of the Nile--how +many have struggled through ice and snow, or burned themselves with +tropic heat, in the effort to penetrate these secrets of the earth! And +how many have left their bones to whiten on the desert or lie hidden +beneath icebergs at the end of the search! + +Of the fortunate ones who escaped after many perils, Baker was one of +the most fortunate. He explored the Blue and the White Nile, discovered +at least one of the reservoirs from which flows the great river of +Egypt, and lived to tell the tale and to receive due honor, being +knighted by the Queen therefor, fêted by learned societies, and sent +subsequently by the Khedive at the head of a large force with commission +to destroy the slave trade. In this he appears to have been successful +for a time, but for a time only. + +[Illustration: SIR SAMUEL BAKER] + +Baker was born in London, June 8th, 1821, and died December 30th, 1893. +With his brother he established, in 1847, a settlement in the mountains +of Ceylon, where he spent several years. His experiences in the far East +appear in books entitled 'The Rifle and Hound in Ceylon' and 'Eight +Years Wandering in Ceylon.' In 1861, accompanied by his young wife and +an escort, he started up the Nile, and three years later, on the 14th of +March, 1864, at length reached the cliffs overlooking the Albert Nyanza, +being the first European to behold its waters. Like most Englishmen, he +was an enthusiastic sportsman, and his manner of life afforded him a +great variety of unusual experiences. He visited Cyprus in 1879, after +the execution of the convention between England and Turkey, and +subsequently he traveled to Syria, India, Japan, and America. He kept +voluminous notes of his various journeys, which he utilized in the +preparation of numerous volumes:--'The Albert Nyanza'; 'The Nile +Tributaries of Abyssinia'; 'Ismäilia,' a narrative of the expedition +under the auspices of the Khedive; 'Cyprus as I Saw It in 1879'; +together with 'Wild Beasts and Their Ways,' 'True Tales for My +Grandsons,' and a story entitled 'Cast Up by the Sea,' which was for +many years a great favorite with the boys of England and America. They +are all full of life and incident. One of the most delightful memories +of them which readers retain is the figure of his lovely wife, so full +of courage, loyalty, buoyancy, and charm. He had that rarest of +possibilities, spirit-stirring adventure and home companionship at once. + + +HUNTING IN ABYSSINIA + +From 'The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia' + +On arrival at the camp, I resolved to fire the entire country on the +following day, and to push still farther up the course of the Settite to +the foot of the mountains, and to return to this camp in about a +fortnight, by which time the animals that had been scared away by the +fire would have returned. Accordingly, on the following morning, +accompanied by a few of the aggageers, I started upon the south bank of +the river, and rode for some distance into the interior, to the ground +that was entirely covered with high withered grass. We were passing +through a mass of kittar thorn bush, almost hidden by the immensely high +grass, when, as I was ahead of the party, I came suddenly upon the +tracks of rhinoceros; these were so unmistakably recent that I felt sure +we were not far from the animals themselves. As I had wished to fire the +grass, I was accompanied by my Tokrooris, and my horse-keeper, Mahomet +No. 2. It was difficult ground for the men, and still more unfavorable +for the horses, as large disjointed masses of stone were concealed in +the high grass. + +We were just speculating as to the position of the rhinoceros, and +thinking how uncommonly unpleasant it would be should he obtain our +wind, when whiff! whiff! whiff! We heard the sharp whistling snort, with +a tremendous rush through the high grass and thorns close to us; and at +the same moment two of these determined brutes were upon us in full +charge. I never saw such a scrimmage; _sauve qui peut_! There was no +time for more than one look behind. I dug the spurs into Aggahr's +flanks, and clasping him round the neck, I ducked my head down to his +shoulder, well protected with my strong hunting cap, and I kept the +spurs going as hard as I could ply them, blindly trusting to Providence +and my good horse, over big rocks, fallen trees, thick kittar thorns, +and grass ten feet high, with the two infernal animals in full chase +only a few feet behind me. I heard their abominable whiffing close to +me, but so did my horse also, and the good old hunter flew over +obstacles that I should have thought impossible, and he dashed straight +under the hooked thorn bushes and doubled like a hare. The aggageers +were all scattered; Mahomet No. 2 was knocked over by a rhinoceros; all +the men were sprawling upon the rocks with their guns, and the party was +entirely discomfited. Having passed the kittar thorn, I turned, and +seeing that the beasts had gone straight on, I brought Aggahr's head +round, and tried to give chase, but it was perfectly impossible; it was +only a wonder that the horse had escaped in ground so difficult for +riding. Although my clothes were of the strongest and coarsest Arab +cotton cloth, which seldom tore, but simply lost a thread when caught in +a thorn, I was nearly naked. My blouse was reduced to shreds; as I wore +sleeves only half way from the shoulder to the elbow, my naked arms were +streaming with blood; fortunately my hunting cap was secured with a chin +strap, and still more fortunately I had grasped the horse's neck, +otherwise I must have been dragged out of the saddle by the hooked +thorns. All the men were cut and bruised, some having fallen upon their +heads among the rocks, and others had hurt their legs in falling in +their endeavors to escape. Mahomet. No. 2, the horse-keeper, was more +frightened than hurt, as he had been knocked down by the shoulder, and +not by the horn of the rhinoceros, as the animal had not noticed him: +its attention was absorbed by the horse. + +I determined to set fire to the whole country immediately, and +descending the hill toward the river to obtain a favorable wind, I put +my men in a line, extending over about a mile along the river's bed, and +they fired the grass in different places. With a loud roar, the flame +leaped high in air and rushed forward with astonishing velocity; the +grass was as inflammable as tinder, and the strong north wind drove the +long line of fire spreading in every direction through the country. + +We now crossed to the other side of the river to avoid the flames, and +we returned toward the camp. On the way I made a long shot and badly +wounded a tétel, but lost it in thick thorns; shortly after, I stalked a +nellut _(A. Strepsiceros_), and bagged it with the Fletcher rifle. + +We arrived early in camp, and on the following day we moved sixteen +miles farther up stream, and camped under a tamarind-tree by the side of +the river. No European had ever been farther than our last camp, +Delladilla, and that spot had only been visited by Johann Schmidt and +Florian. In the previous year, my aggageers had sabred some of the Basé +at this very camping-place; they accordingly requested me to keep a +vigilant watch during the night, as they would be very likely to attack +us in revenge, unless they had been scared by the rifles and by the size +of our party. They advised me not to remain long in this spot, as it +would be very dangerous for my wife to be left almost alone during the +day, when we were hunting, and that the Basé would be certain to espy us +from the mountains, and would most probably attack and carry her off +when they were assured of our departure. She was not very nervous about +this, but she immediately called the dragoman, Mahomet, who knew the use +of a gun, and she asked him if he would stand by her in case they were +attacked in my absence; the faithful servant replied, "Mahomet fight the +Basé? No, Missus; Mahomet not fight; if the Basé come, Missus fight; +Mahomet run away; Mahomet not come all the way from Cairo to get him +killed by black fellers; Mahomet will run--Inshallah!" (Please God.) + +This frank avowal of his military tactics was very reassuring. There was +a high hill of basalt, something resembling a pyramid, within a quarter +of a mile of us; I accordingly ordered some of my men every day to +ascend this look-out station, and I resolved to burn the high grass at +once, so as to destroy all cover for the concealment of an enemy. That +evening I very nearly burned our camp; I had several times ordered the +men to clear away the dry grass for about thirty yards from our +resting-place; this they had neglected to obey. We had been joined a few +days before by a party of about a dozen Hamran Arabs, who were +hippopotami hunters; thus we mustered very strong, and it would have +been the work of about half an hour to have cleared away the grass as I +had desired. + +The wind was brisk, and blew directly toward our camp, which was backed +by the river. I accordingly took a fire-stick, and I told my people to +look sharp, as they would not clear away the grass. I walked to the foot +of the basalt hill, and fired the grass in several places. In an instant +the wind swept the flame and smoke toward the camp. All was confusion; +the Arabs had piled the camel-saddles and all their corn and effects in +the high grass about twenty yards from the tent; there was no time to +remove all these things; therefore, unless they could clear away the +grass so as to stop the fire before it should reach the spot, they would +be punished for their laziness by losing their property. The fire +traveled quicker than I had expected, and, by the time I had hastened to +the tent, I found the entire party working frantically; the Arabs were +slashing down the grass with their swords, and sweeping it away with +their shields, while my Tokrooris were beating it down with long sticks +and tearing it from its withered and fortunately tinder-rotten roots, in +desperate haste. The flames rushed on, and we already felt the heat, as +volumes of smoke enveloped us; I thought it advisable to carry the +gunpowder (about 20 lbs.) down to the river, together with the rifles; +while my wife and Mahomet dragged the various articles of luggage to the +same place of safety. The fire now approached within about sixty yards, +and dragging out the iron pins, I let the tent fall to the ground. The +Arabs had swept a line like a high-road perfectly clean, and they were +still tearing away the grass, when they were suddenly obliged to rush +back as the flames arrived. + +Almost instantaneously the smoke blew over us, but the fire had expired +upon meeting the cleared ground. I now gave them a little lecture upon +obedience to orders; and from that day, their first act upon halting for +the night was to clear away the grass, lest I should repeat the +entertainment. In countries that are covered with dry grass, it should +be an invariable rule to clear the ground around the camp before night; +hostile natives will frequently fire the grass to windward of a party, +or careless servants may leave their pipes upon the ground, which fanned +by the wind would quickly create a blaze. That night the mountain +afforded a beautiful appearance as the flames ascended the steep sides, +and ran flickering up the deep gullies with a brilliant light. + +We were standing outside the tent admiring the scene, which perfectly +illuminated the neighborhood, when suddenly an apparition of a lion and +lioness stood for an instant before us at about fifteen yards distance, +and then disappeared over the blackened ground before I had time to +snatch a rifle from the tent. No doubt they had been disturbed from the +mountain by the fire, and had mistaken their way in the country so +recently changed from high grass to black ashes. In this locality I +considered it advisable to keep a vigilant watch during the night, and +the Arabs were told off for that purpose. + +A little before sunrise I accompanied the howartis, or hippopotamus +hunters, for a day's sport. There were numbers of hippos in this part of +the river, and we were not long before we found a herd. The hunters +failed in several attempts to harpoon them, but they succeeded in +stalking a crocodile after a most peculiar fashion. This large beast was +lying upon a sandbank on the opposite margin of the river, close to a +bed of rushes. + +The howartis, having studied the wind, ascended for about a quarter of a +mile, and then swam across the river, harpoon in hand. The two men +reached the opposite bank, beneath which they alternately waded or swam +down the stream toward the spot upon which the crocodile was lying. Thus +advancing under cover of the steep bank, or floating with the stream in +deep places, and crawling like crocodiles across the shallows, the two +hunters at length arrived at the bank or rushes, on the other side of +which the monster was basking asleep upon the sand. They were now about +waist-deep, and they kept close to the rushes with their harpoons +raised, ready to cast the moment they should pass the rush bed and come +in view of the crocodile. Thus steadily advancing, they had just arrived +at the corner within about eight yards of the crocodile, when the +creature either saw them, or obtained their wind; in an instant it +rushed to the water; at the same moment, the two harpoons were launched +with great rapidity by the hunters. One glanced obliquely from the +scales; the other stuck fairly in the tough hide, and the iron, detached +from the bamboo, held fast, while the ambatch float, running on the +surface of the water, marked the course of the reptile beneath. + +The hunters chose a convenient place, and recrossed the stream to our +side, apparently not heeding the crocodiles more than we should pike +when bathing in England. They would not waste their time by securing the +crocodile at present, as they wished to kill a hippopotamus; the float +would mark the position, and they would be certain to find it later. We +accordingly continued our search for hippopotami; these animals appeared +to be on the _qui vive_, and, as the hunters once more failed in an +attempt, I made a clean shot behind the ear of one, and killed it dead. +At length we arrived at a large pool, in which were several sandbanks +covered with rushes, and many rocky islands. Among these rocks were a +herd of hippopotami, consisting of an old bull and several cows; a young +hippo was standing, like an ugly little statue, on a protruding rock, +while another infant stood upon its mother's back that listlessly +floated on the water. + +This was an admirable place for the hunters. They desired me to lie +down, and they crept into the jungle out of view of the river; I +presently observed them stealthily descending the dry bed about two +hundred paces above the spot where the hippos were basking behind the +rocks. They entered the river, and swam down the centre of the stream +toward the rock. This was highly exciting:--the hippos were quite +unconscious of the approaching danger, as, steadily and rapidly, the +hunters floated down the strong current; they neared the rock, and both +heads disappeared as they purposely sank out of view; in a few seconds +later they reappeared at the edge of the rock upon which the young hippo +stood. It would be difficult to say which started first, the astonished +young hippo into the water, or the harpoons from the hands of the +howartis! It was the affair of a moment; the hunters dived directly they +had hurled their harpoons, and, swimming for some distance under water, +they came to the surface, and hastened to the shore lest an infuriated +hippopotamus should follow them. One harpoon had missed; the other had +fixed the bull of the herd, at which it had been surely aimed. This was +grand sport! The bull was in the greatest fury, and rose to the surface, +snorting and blowing in his impotent rage; but as the ambatch float was +exceedingly large, and this naturally accompanied his movements, he +tried to escape from his imaginary persecutor, and dived constantly, +only to find his pertinacious attendant close to him upon regaining the +surface. This was not to last long; the howartis were in earnest, and +they at once called their party, who, with two of the aggageers, Abou Do +and Suleiman, were near at hand; these men arrived with the long ropes +that form a portion of the outfit for hippo hunting. + +The whole party now halted on the edge of the river, while two men swam +across with one end of the long rope. Upon gaining the opposite bank, I +observed that a second rope was made fast to the middle of the main +line; thus upon our side we held the ends of two ropes, while on the +opposite side they had only one; accordingly, the point of junction of +the two ropes in the centre formed an acute angle. The object of this +was soon practically explained. Two men upon our side now each held a +rope, and one of these walked about ten yards before the other. Upon +both sides of the river the people now advanced, dragging the rope on +the surface of the water until they reached the ambatch float that was +swimming to and fro, according to the movements of the hippopotamus +below. By a dexterous jerk of the main line, the float was now placed +between the two ropes, and it was immediately secured in the acute angle +by bringing together the ends of these ropes on our side. + +The men on the opposite bank now dropped their line, and our men hauled +in upon the ambatch float that was held fast between the ropes. Thus +cleverly made sure, we quickly brought a strain upon the hippo, and, +although I have had some experience in handling big fish, I never knew +one pull so lustily as the amphibious animal that we now alternately +coaxed and bullied. He sprang out of the water, gnashed his huge jaws, +snorted with tremendous rage, and lashed the river into foam; he then +dived, and foolishly approached us beneath the water. We quickly +gathered in the slack line, and took a round turn upon a large rock, +within a few feet of the river. The hippo now rose to the surface, about +ten yards from the hunters, and, jumping half out of the water, he +snapped his great jaws together, endeavoring to catch the rope, but at +the same instant two harpoons were launched into his side. Disdaining +retreat and maddened with rage, the furious animal charged from the +depths of the river, and, gaining a footing, he reared his bulky form +from the surface, came boldly upon the sandbank, and attacked the +hunters open-mouthed. He little knew his enemy; they were not the men to +fear a pair of gaping jaws, armed with a deadly array of tusks, but half +a dozen lances were hurled at him, some entering his mouth from a +distance of five or six paces, at the same time several men threw +handfuls of sand into his enormous eyes. This baffled him more than the +lances; he crunched the shafts between his powerful jaws like straws, +but he was beaten by the sand, and, shaking his huge head, he retreated +to the river. During his sally upon the shore, two of the hunters had +secured the ropes of the harpoons that had been fastened in his body +just before his charge; he was now fixed by three of these deadly +instruments, but suddenly one rope gave way, having been bitten through +by the enraged beast, who was still beneath the water. Immediately after +this he appeared on the surface, and, without a moment's hesitation, he +once more charged furiously from the water straight at the hunters, with +his huge mouth open to such an extent that he could have accommodated +two inside passengers. Suleiman was wild with delight, and springing +forward lance in hand, he drove it against the head of the formidable +animal, but without effect. At the same time, Abou Do met the hippo +sword in hand, reminding me of Perseus slaying the sea-monster that +would devour Andromeda, but the sword made a harmless gash, and the +lance, already blunted against the rocks, refused to penetrate the tough +hide; once more handfuls of sand were pelted upon his face, and again +repulsed by this blinding attack, he was forced to retire to his deep +hole and wash it from his eyes. Six times during the fight the valiant +bull hippo quitted his watery fortress, and charged resolutely at his +pursuers; he had broken several of their lances in his jaws, other +lances had been hurled, and, falling upon the rocks, they were blunted, +and would not penetrate. The fight had continued for three hours, and +the sun was about to set, accordingly the hunters begged me to give him +the _coup de grace_, as they had hauled him close to the shore, and they +feared he would sever the rope with his teeth. I waited for a good +opportunity, when he boldly raised his head from water about three yards +from the rifle, and a bullet from the little Fletcher between the eyes +closed the last act. + + +THE SOURCES OF THE NILE + +From 'The Albert Nyanza' + +The name of this village was Parkani. For several days past our guides +had told us that we were very near to the lake, and we were now assured +that we should reach it on the morrow. I had noticed a lofty range of +mountains at an immense distance west, and I had imagined that the lake +lay on the other side of this chain; but I was now informed that those +mountains formed the western frontier of the M'wootan N'zigé, and that +the lake was actually within a march of Parkani. I could not believe it +possible that we were so near the object of our search. The guide +Rabonga now appeared, and declared that if we started early on the +following morning we should be able to wash in the lake by noon! + +That night I hardly slept. For years I had striven to reach the "sources +of the Nile." In my nightly dreams during that arduous voyage I had +always failed, but after so much hard work and perseverance the cup was +at my very lips, and I was to drink at the mysterious fountain before +another sun should set--at that great reservoir of Nature that ever +since creation had baffled all discovery. + +I had hoped, and prayed, and striven through all kinds of difficulties, +in sickness, starvation, and fatigue, to reach that hidden source; and +when it had appeared impossible, we had both determined to die upon the +road rather than return defeated. Was it possible that it was so near, +and that to-morrow we could say, "the work is accomplished"? + +The 14th March. The sun had not risen when I was spurring my ox after +the guide, who, having been promised a double handful of beads on +arrival at the lake, had caught the enthusiasm of the moment. The day +broke beautifully clear, and having crossed a deep valley between the +hills, we toiled up the opposite slope. I hurried to the summit. The +glory of our prize burst suddenly upon me! There, like a sea of +quicksilver, lay far beneath the grand expanse of water,--a boundless +sea horizon on the south and southwest, glittering in the noonday sun; +and on the west at fifty or sixty miles distance blue mountains rose +from the bosom of the lake to a height of about 7,000 feet above +its level. + +It is impossible to describe the triumph of that moment;--here was the +reward for all our labor--for the years of tenacity with which we had +toiled through Africa. England had won the sources of the Nile! Long +before I reached this spot I had arranged to give three cheers with all +our men in English style in honor of the discovery, but now that I +looked down upon the great inland sea lying nestled in the very heart of +Africa, and thought how vainly mankind had sought these sources +throughout so many ages, and reflected that I had been the humble +instrument permitted to unravel this portion of the great mystery when +so many greater than I had failed, I felt too serious to vent my +feelings in vain cheers for victory, and I sincerely thanked God for +having guided and supported us through all dangers to the good end. I +was about 1,500 feet above the lake, and I looked down from the steep +granite cliff upon those welcome waters--upon that vast reservoir which +nourished Egypt and brought fertility where all was wilderness--upon +that great source so long hidden from mankind; that source of bounty and +of blessings to millions of human beings; and as one of the greatest +objects in nature, I determined to honor it with a great name. As an +imperishable memorial of one loved and mourned by our gracious Queen and +deplored by every Englishman, I called this great lake "the Albert +Nyanza." The Victoria and the Albert lakes are the two sources of +the Nile. + + + + +ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR + +(1848-) + + +Although the prominence of Arthur James Balfour in English contemporary +life is in the main that of a statesman, he has a high place as a critic +of philosophy, especially in its relation to religion. During the early +part of his life his interests were entirely those of a student. He was +born in 1848, a member of the Cecil family, and a nephew of the Prime +Minister, Lord Salisbury. His tastes were those of a retired thinker. He +cared for literature, music, and philosophy, but very little for the +political world; so little that he never read the newspapers. This +tendency was increased by his delicate health. When, therefore, as a +young man in the neighborhood of thirty, he was made Secretary for +Scotland, people laughed. His uncle's choice proved to be a wise one, +however; and he later, in 1886, gave his nephew the very important +position of Irish Secretary, at a time when some of the ablest and most +experienced statesmen had failed. Mr. Balfour won an unexpected success +and a wide reputation, and from that time on he developed rapidly into +one of the most skillful statesmen of the Conservative party. By +tradition and by temperament he is an extreme Tory; and it is in the +opposition, as a skillful fencer in debate and a sharp critic of +pretentious schemes, that he has been most admired and most feared. +However, he is kept from being narrowly confined to the traditional +point of view by the philosophic interests and training of his mind, +which he has turned into practical fairness. Some of his speeches are +most original in suggestion, and all show a literary quality of a high +order. His writings on other subjects are also broad, scholarly, and +practical. 'A Defense of Philosophic Doubt' is thought by some +philosophers to be the ablest work of destructive criticism since Hume. +'The Foundations of Belief' covers somewhat the same ground and in more +popular fashion. 'Essays and Addresses' is a collection of papers on +literature and sociology. + +[Illustration: ARTHUR J. BALFOUR] + + +THE PLEASURES OF READING + +From his Rectorial Address before the University of Glasgow + +I confess to have been much perplexed in my search for a topic on which +I could say something to which you would have patience to listen, or on +which I might find it profitable to speak. One theme however there is, +not inappropriate to the place in which I stand, nor I hope unwelcome to +the audience which I address. The youngest of you have left behind that +period of youth during which it seems inconceivable that any book should +afford recreation except a story-book. Many of you are just reaching the +period when, at the end of your prescribed curriculum, the whole field +and compass of literature lies outspread before you; when, with +faculties trained and disciplined, and the edge of curiosity not dulled +or worn with use, you may enter at your leisure into the intellectual +heritage of the centuries. + +Now the question of how to read and what to read has of late filled much +space in the daily papers, if it cannot strictly speaking be said to +have profoundly occupied the public mind. But you need be under no +alarm. I am not going to supply you with a new list of the hundred books +most worth reading, nor am I about to take the world into my confidence +in respect of my "favorite passages from the best authors." Nor again do +I address myself to the professed student, to the fortunate individual +with whom literature or science is the business as well as the pleasure +of life. I have not the qualifications which would enable me to +undertake such a task with the smallest hope of success. My theme is +humble, though the audience to whom I desire to speak is large: for I +speak to the ordinary reader with ordinary capacities and ordinary +leisure, to whom reading is, or ought to be, not a business but a +pleasure; and my theme is the enjoyment--not, mark you, the improvement, +nor the glory, nor the profit, but the _enjoyment_--which may be derived +by such an one from books. + +It is perhaps due to the controversial habits engendered by my +unfortunate profession, that I find no easier method of making my own +view clear than that of contrasting with it what I regard as an +erroneous view held by somebody else; and in the present case the +doctrine which I shall choose as a foil to my own, is one which has been +stated with the utmost force and directness by that brilliant and +distinguished writer, Mr. Frederic Harrison. He has, as many of you +know, recently given us, in a series of excellent essays, his opinion on +the principles which should guide us in the choice of books. Against +that part of his treatise which is occupied with specific +recommendations of certain authors I have not a word to say. He has +resisted all the temptations to eccentricity which so easily beset the +modern critic. Every book which he praises deserves his praise, and has +long been praised by the world at large. I do not, indeed, hold that the +verdict of the world is necessarily binding on the individual +conscience. I admit to the full that there is an enormous quantity of +hollow devotion, of withered orthodoxy divorced from living faith, in +the eternal chorus of praise which goes up from every literary altar to +the memory of the immortal dead. Nevertheless every critic is bound to +recognize, as Mr. Harrison recognizes, that he must put down to +individual peculiarity any difference he may have with the general +verdict of the ages; he must feel that mankind are not likely to be in a +conspiracy of error as to the kind of literary work which conveys to +them the highest literary enjoyment, and that in such cases at least +_securus judicat orbis terrarum_. + +But it is quite possible to hold that any work recommended by Mr. +Harrison is worth repeated reading, and yet to reject utterly the theory +of study by which these recommendations are prefaced. For Mr. Harrison +is a ruthless censor. His _index expurgatorius_ includes, so far as I +can discover, the whole catalogue of the British Museum, with the +exception of a small remnant which might easily be contained in about +thirty or forty volumes. The vast remainder he contemplates with +feelings apparently not merely of indifference, but of active aversion. +He surveys the boundless and ever-increasing waste of books with +emotions compounded of disgust and dismay. He is almost tempted to say +in his haste that the invention of printing has been an evil one for +humanity. In the habits of miscellaneous reading, born of a too easy +access to libraries, circulating and other, he sees many soul-destroying +tendencies; and his ideal reader would appear to be a gentleman who +rejects with a lofty scorn all in history that does not pass for being +first-rate in importance, and all in literature that is not admitted to +be first-rate in quality. + +Now, I am far from denying that this theory is plausible. Of all that +has been written, it is certain that the professed student can master +but an infinitesimal fraction. Of that fraction the ordinary reader can +master but a very small part. What advice, then, can be better than to +select for study the few masterpieces that have come down to us, and to +treat as non-existent the huge but undistinguished remainder? We are +like travelers passing hastily through some ancient city; filled with +memorials of many generations and more than one great civilization. Our +time is short. Of what may be seen we can only see at best but a +trifling fragment. Let us then take care that we waste none of our +precious moments upon that which is less than the most excellent. So +preaches Mr. Frederic Harrison; and when a doctrine which put thus may +seem not only wise but obvious, is further supported by such assertions +that habits of miscellaneous reading "close the mind to what is +spiritually sustaining" by "stuffing it with what is simply curious," or +that such methods of study are worse than no habits of study at all +because they "gorge and enfeeble" the mind by "excess in that which +cannot nourish," I almost feel that in venturing to dissent from it, I +may be attacking not merely the teaching of common sense but the +inspirations of a high morality. + +Yet I am convinced that for most persons the views thus laid down by Mr. +Harrison are wrong; and that what he describes, with characteristic +vigor, as "an impotent voracity for desultory information," is in +reality a most desirable and a not too common form of mental appetite. I +have no sympathy whatever with the horror he expresses at the "incessant +accumulation of fresh books." I am never tempted to regret that +Gutenberg was born into the world. I care not at all though the +"cataract of printed stuff," as Mr. Harrison calls it, should flow and +still flow on until the catalogues of our libraries should make +libraries themselves. I am prepared, indeed, to express sympathy almost +amounting to approbation for any one who would check all writing which +was _not_ intended for the printer. I pay no tribute of grateful +admiration to those who have oppressed mankind with the dubious blessing +of the penny post. But the ground of the distinction is plain. We are +always obliged to read our letters, and are sometimes obliged to answer +them. But who obliges us to wade through the piled-up lumber of an +ancient library, or to skim more than we like off the frothy foolishness +poured forth in ceaseless streams by our circulating libraries? Dead +dunces do not importune us; Grub Street does not ask for a reply by +return of post. Even their living successors need hurt no one who +possesses the very moderate degree of social courage required to make +the admission that he has not read the last new novel or the current +number of a fashionable magazine. + +But this is not the view of Mr. Harrison. To him the position of any one +having free access to a large library is fraught with issues so +tremendous that, in order adequately to describe it, he has to seek for +parallels in two of the most highly-wrought episodes in fiction: the +Ancient Mariner, becalmed and thirsting on the tropic ocean; Bunyan's +Christian in the crisis of spiritual conflict. But there is here, +surely, some error and some exaggeration. Has miscellaneous reading all +the dreadful consequences which Mr. Harrison depicts? Has it any of +them? His declaration about the intellect being "gorged and enfeebled" +by the absorption of too much information, expresses no doubt with great +vigor an analogy, for which there is high authority, between the human +mind and the human stomach; but surely it is an analogy which may be +pressed too far. I have often heard of the individual whose excellent +natural gifts have been so overloaded with huge masses of undigested and +indigestible learning that they have had no chance of healthy +development. But though I have often heard of this personage, I have +never met him, and I believe him to be mythical. It is true, no doubt, +that many learned people are dull; but there is no indication whatever +that they are dull because they are learned. True dullness is seldom +acquired; it is a natural grace, the manifestations of which, however +modified by education, remain in substance the same. Fill a dull man to +the brim with knowledge, and he will not become less dull, as the +enthusiasts for education vainly imagine; but neither will he become +duller, as Mr. Harrison appears to suppose. He will remain in essence +what he always has been and always must have been. But whereas his +dullness would, if left to itself, have been merely vacuous, it may have +become, under cureful cultivation, pretentious and pedantic. + +I would further point out to you that while there is no ground in +experience for supposing that a keen interest in those facts which Mr. +Harrison describes as "merely curious" has any stupefying effect upon +the mind, or has any tendency to render it insensible to the higher +things of literature and art, there is positive evidence that many of +those who have most deeply felt the charm of these higher things have +been consumed by that omnivorous appetite for knowledge which excites +Mr. Harrison's especial indignation. Dr. Johnson, for instance, though +deaf to some of the most delicate harmonies of verse, was without +question a very great critic. Yet in Dr. Johnson's opinion, literary +history, which is for the most part composed of facts which Mr. Harrison +would regard as insignificant, about authors whom he would regard as +pernicious, was the most delightful of studies. Again, consider the case +of Lord Macaulay. Lord Macaulay did everything Mr. Harrison says he +ought not to have done. From youth to age he was continuously occupied +in "gorging and enfeebling" his intellect, by the unlimited consumption +of every species of literature, from the masterpieces of the age of +Pericles to the latest rubbish from the circulating library. It is not +told of him that his intellect suffered by the process; and though it +will hardly be claimed for him that he was a great critic, none will +deny that he possessed the keenest susceptibilities for literary +excellence in many languages and in every form. If Englishmen and +Scotchmen do not satisfy you, I will take a Frenchman. The most +accomplished critic whom France has produced is, by general admission, +Ste.-Beuve. His capacity for appreciating supreme perfection in +literature will be disputed by none; yet the great bulk of his vast +literary industry was expended upon the lives and writings of authors +whose lives Mr. Harrison would desire us to forget, and whose writings +almost wring from him the wish that the art of printing had never been +discovered. + +I am even bold enough to hazard the conjecture (I trust he will forgive +me) that Mr. Harrison's life may be quoted against Mr. Harrison's +theory. I entirely decline to believe, without further evidence, that +the writings whose vigor of style and of thought have been the delight +of us all are the product of his own system. I hope I do him no wrong, +but I cannot help thinking that if we knew the truth, we should find +that he followed the practice of those worthy physicians who, after +prescribing the most abstemious diet to their patients, may be seen +partaking freely, and to all appearances safely, of the most succulent +and the most unwholesome of the forbidden dishes. + +It has to be noted that Mr. Harrison's list of the books which deserve +perusal would seem to indicate that in his opinion, the pleasures to be +derived from literature are chiefly pleasures of the imagination. Poets, +dramatists, and novelists form the chief portion of the somewhat meagre +fare which is specifically permitted to his disciples. Now, though I +have already stated that the list is not one of which any person is +likely to assert that it contains books which ought to be excluded, yet, +even from the point of view of what may be termed aesthetic enjoyment, +the field in which we are allowed to take our pleasures seems to me +unduly restricted. + +Contemporary poetry, for instance, on which Mr. Harrison bestows a good +deal of hard language, has and must have, for the generation which +produces it, certain qualities not likely to be possessed by any other. +Charles Lamb has somewhere declared that a pun loses all its virtues as +soon as the momentary quality of the intellectual and social atmosphere +in which it was born has changed its character. What is true of this, +the humblest effort of verbal art, is true in a different measure and +degree of all, even of the highest, forms of literature. To some extent +every work requires interpretation to generations who are separated by +differences of thought or education from the age in which it was +originally produced. That this is so with every book which depends for +its interest upon feelings and fashions which have utterly vanished, no +one will be disposed, I imagine, to deny. Butler's 'Hudibras,' for +instance, which was the delight of a gay and witty society, is to me at +least not unfrequently dull. Of some works, no doubt, which made a noise +in their day it seems impossible to detect the slightest race of charm. +But this is not the case with 'Hudibras.' Its merits are obvious. That +they should have appealed to a generation sick of the reign of the +"Saints" is precisely what we should have expected. But to us, who are +not sick of the reign of the Saints, they appeal but imperfectly. The +attempt to reproduce artificially the frame of mind of those who first +read the poem is not only an effort, but is to most people, at all +events, an unsuccessful effort. What is true of 'Hudibras' is true also, +though in an inconceivably smaller degree, of those great works of +imagination which deal with the elemental facts of human character and +human passion. Yet even on these, time does, though lightly, lay his +hand. Wherever what may be called "historic sympathy" is required, there +will be some diminution of the enjoyment which those must have felt who +were the poet's contemporaries. We look, so to speak, at the same +splendid landscape as they, but distance has made it necessary for us to +aid our natural vision with glasses, and some loss of light will thus +inevitably be produced, and some inconvenience from the difficulty of +truly adjusting the focus. Of all authors, Homer would, I suppose, be +thought to suffer least from such drawbacks. But yet in order to listen +to Homer's accents with the ears of an ancient Greek, we must be able, +among other things, to enter into a view about the gods which is as far +removed from what we should describe as religious sentiment, as it is +from the frigid ingenuity of those later poets who regarded the deities +of Greek mythology as so many wheels in the supernatural machinery with +which it pleased them to carry on the action of their pieces. If we are +to accept Mr. Herbert Spencer's views as to the progress of our species, +changes of sentiment are likely to occur which will even more seriously +interfere with the world's delight in the Homeric poems. When human +beings become so nicely "adjusted to their environment" that courage and +dexterity in battle will have become as useless among civic virtues as +an old helmet is among the weapons of war; when fighting gets to be +looked upon with the sort of disgust excited in us by cannibalism; and +when public opinion shall regard a warrior much in the same light that +we regard a hangman,--I do not see how any fragment of that vast and +splendid literature which depends for its interest upon deeds of heroism +and the joy of battle is to retain its ancient charm. + +About these remote contingencies, however, I am glad to think that +neither you nor I need trouble our heads; and if I parenthetically +allude to them now, it is merely as an illustration of a truth not +always sufficiently remembered, and as an excuse for those who find in +the genuine, though possibly second-rate, productions of their own age, +a charm for which they search in vain among the mighty monuments of +the past. + +But I leave this train of thought, which has perhaps already taken me +too far, in order to point out a more fundamental error, as I think it, +which arises from regarding literature solely from this high aesthetic +standpoint. The pleasures of imagination, derived from the best literary +models, form without doubt the most exquisite portion of the enjoyment +which we may extract from books; but they do not, in my opinion, form +the largest portion if we take into account mass as well as quality in +our calculation. There is the literature which appeals to the +imagination or the fancy, some stray specimens of which Mr. Harrison +will permit us to peruse; but is there not also the literature which +satisfies the curiosity? Is this vast storehouse of pleasure to be +thrown hastily aside because many of the facts which it contains are +alleged to be insignificant, because the appetite to which they minister +is said to be morbid? Consider a little. We are here dealing with one of +the strongest intellectual impulses of rational beings. Animals, as a +rule, trouble themselves but little about anything unless they want +either to eat it or to run away from it. Interest in and wonder at the +works of nature and the doings of man are products of civilization, and +excite emotions which do not diminish but increase with increasing +knowledge and cultivation. Feed them and they grow; minister to them and +they will greatly multiply. We hear much indeed of what is called "idle +curiosity"; but I am loth to brand any form of curiosity as necessarily +idle. Take, for example, one of the most singular, but in this age one +of the most universal, forms in which it is accustomed to manifest +itself: I mean that of an exhaustive study of the contents of the +morning and evening papers. It is certainly remarkable that any person +who has nothing to get by it should destroy his eyesight and confuse his +brain by a conscientious attempt to master the dull and doubtful details +of the European diary daily transmitted to us by "Our Special +Correspondent." But it must be remembered that this is only a somewhat +unprofitable exercise of that disinterested love of knowledge which +moves men to penetrate the Polar snows, to build up systems of +philosophy, or to explore the secrets of the remotest heavens. It has in +it the rudiments of infinite and varied delights. It _can_ be turned, +and it _should_ be turned into a curiosity for which nothing that has +been done, or thought, or suffered, or believed, no law which governs +the world of matter or the world of mind, can be wholly alien or +uninteresting. + +Truly it is a subject for astonishment that, instead of expanding to the +utmost the employment of this pleasure-giving faculty, so many persons +should set themselves to work to limit its exercise by all kinds of +arbitrary regulations. Some there are, for example, who tell us that the +acquisition of knowledge is all very well, but that it must be _useful_ +knowledge; meaning usually thereby that it must enable a man to get on +in a profession, pass an examination, shine in conversation, or obtain a +reputation for learning. But even if they mean something higher than +this, even if they mean that knowledge to be worth anything must +subserve ultimately if not immediately the material or spiritual +interests of mankind, the doctrine is one which should be energetically +repudiated. I admit, of course, at once, that discoveries the most +apparently remote from human concerns have often proved themselves of +the utmost commercial or manufacturing value. But they require no such +justification for their existence, nor were they striven for with any +such object. Navigation is not the final cause of astronomy, nor +telegraphy of electro-dynamics, nor dye-works of chemistry. And if it be +true that the desire of knowledge for the sake of knowledge was the +animating motive of the great men who first wrested her secrets from +nature, why should it not also be enough for us, to whom it is not given +to discover, but only to learn as best we may what has been discovered +by others? + +Another maxim, more plausible but equally pernicious, is that +superficial knowledge is worse than no knowledge at all. That "a little +knowledge is a dangerous thing" is a saying which has now got currency +as a proverb stamped in the mint of Pope's versification; of Pope, who +with the most imperfect knowledge of Greek translated Homer, with the +most imperfect knowledge of the Elizabethan drama edited Shakespeare, +and with the most imperfect knowledge of philosophy wrote the 'Essay on +Man.' But what is this "little knowledge" which is supposed to be so +dangerous? What is it "little" in relation to? If in relation to what +there is to know, then all human knowledge is little. If in relation to +what actually is known by somebody, then we must condemn as "dangerous" +the knowledge which Archimedes possessed of mechanics, or Copernicus of +astronomy; for a shilling primer and a few weeks' study will enable any +student to outstrip in mere information some of the greatest teachers +of the past. No doubt, that little knowledge which thinks itself to be +great may possibly be a dangerous, as it certainly is a most ridiculous +thing. We have all suffered under that eminently absurd individual who +on the strength of one or two volumes, imperfectly apprehended by +himself, and long discredited in the estimation of everyone else, is +prepared to supply you on the shortest notice with a dogmatic solution +of every problem suggested by this "unintelligible world" or the +political variety of the same pernicious genus, whose statecraft +consists in the ready application to the most complex question of +national interest of some high-sounding commonplace which has done weary +duty on a thousand platforms, and which even in its palmiest days was +never fit for anything better than a peroration. But in our dislike of +the individual, do not let us mistake the diagnosis of his disease. He +suffers not from ignorance but from stupidity. Give him learning and you +make him not wise, but only more pretentious in his folly. + +I say then that so far from a little knowledge being undesirable, a +little knowledge is all that on most subjects any of us can hope to +attain; and that, as a source not of worldly profit but of personal +pleasure, it may be of incalculable value to its possessor. But it will +naturally be asked, "How are we to select from among the infinite number +of things which may be known, those which it is best worth while for us +to know?" We are constantly being told to concern ourselves with +learning what is important, and not to waste our energies upon what is +insignificant. But what are the marks by which we shall recognize the +important, and how is it to be distinguished from the insignificant. A +precise and complete answer to this question which shall be true for all +men cannot be given. I am considering knowledge, recollect, as it +ministers to enjoyment; and from this point of view each unit of +information is obviously of importance in proportion as it increases the +general sum of enjoyment which we obtain, or expect to obtain, from +knowledge. This, of course, makes it impossible to lay down precise +rules which shall be an equally sure guide to all sorts and conditions +of men; for in this, as in other matters, tastes must differ, and +against real difference of taste there is no appeal. + +There is, however, one caution which it may be worth your while to keep +in view:--Do not be persuaded into applying any general proposition on +this subject with a foolish impartiality to every kind of knowledge. +There are those who tell you that it is the broad generalities and the +far-reaching principles which govern the world, which are alone worthy +of your attention. A fact which is not an illustration of a law, in the +opinion of these persons appears to lose all its value. Incidents which +do not fit into some great generalization, events which are merely +picturesque, details which are merely curious, they dismiss as unworthy +the interest of a reasoning being. Now, even in science this doctrine in +its extreme form does not hold good. The most scientific of men have +taken profound interest in the investigation of facts from the +determination of which they do not anticipate any material addition to +our knowledge of the laws which regulate the Universe. In these matters, +I need hardly say that I speak wholly without authority. But I have +always been under the impression that an investigation which has cost +hundreds of thousands of pounds; which has stirred on three occasions +the whole scientific community throughout the civilized world; on which +has been expended the utmost skill in the construction of instruments +and their application to purposes of research (I refer to the attempts +made to determine the distance of the sun by observation of the transit +of Venus),--would, even if they had been brought to a successful issue, +have furnished mankind with the knowledge of no new astronomical +principle. The laws which govern the motions of the solar system, the +proportions which the various elements in that system bear to one +another, have long been known. The distance of the sun itself is known +within limits of error relatively speaking not very considerable. Were +the measuring rod we apply to the heavens based on an estimate of the +sun's distance from the earth which was wrong by (say) three per cent., +it would not to the lay mind seem to affect very materially our view +either of the distribution of the heavenly bodies or of their motions. +And yet this information, this piece of celestial gossip, would seem to +have been the chief astronomical result expected from the successful +prosecution of an investigation in which whole nations have interested +themselves. + +But though no one can, I think, pretend that science does not concern +itself, and properly concern itself, with facts which are not to all +appearance illustrations of law, it is undoubtedly true that for those +who desire to extract the greatest pleasure from science, a knowledge, +however elementary, of the leading principles of investigation and the +larger laws of nature, is the acquisition most to be desired. To him who +is not a specialist, a comprehension of the broad outlines of the +universe as it presents itself to his scientific imagination is the +thing most worth striving to attain. But when we turn from science to +what is rather vaguely called history, the same principles of study do +not, I think, altogether apply, and mainly for this reason: that while +the recognition of the reign of law is the chief amongst the pleasures +imparted by science, our inevitable ignorance makes it the least among +the pleasures imparted by history. + +It is no doubt true that we are surrounded by advisers who tell us that +all study of the past is barren, except in so far as it enables us to +determine the principles by which the evolution of human societies is +governed. How far such an investigation has been up to the present time +fruitful in results, it would be unkind to inquire. That it will ever +enable us to trace with accuracy the course which States and nations are +destined to pursue in the future, or to account in detail for their +history in the past, I do not in the least believe. We are borne along +like travelers on some unexplored stream. We may know enough of the +general configuration of the globe to be sure that we are making our way +towards the ocean. We may know enough, by experience or theory, of the +laws regulating the flow of liquids, to conjecture how the river will +behave under the varying influences to which it may be subject. More +than this we cannot know. It will depend largely upon causes which, in +relation to any laws which we are even likely to discover may properly +be called accidental, whether we are destined sluggishly to drift among +fever-stricken swamps, to hurry down perilous rapids, or to glide gently +through fair scenes of peaceful cultivation. + +But leaving on one side ambitious sociological speculations, and even +those more modest but hitherto more successful investigations into the +causes which have in particular cases been principally operative in +producing great political changes, there are still two modes in which we +can derive what I may call "spectacular" enjoyment from the study of +history. There is first the pleasure which arises from the contemplation +of some great historic drama, or some broad and well-marked phase of +social development. The story of the rise, greatness, and decay of a +nation is like some vast epic which contains as subsidiary episodes the +varied stories of the rise, greatness, and decay of creeds, of parties, +and of statesmen. The imagination is moved by the slow unrolling of this +great picture of human mutability, as it is moved by the contrasted +permanence of the abiding stars. The ceaseless conflict, the strange +echoes of long-forgotten controversies, the confusion of purpose, the +successes in which lay deep the seeds of future evils, the failures that +ultimately divert the otherwise inevitable danger, the heroism which +struggles to the last for a cause foredoomed to defeat, the wickedness +which sides with right, and the wisdom which huzzas at the triumph of +folly,--fate, meanwhile, amidst this turmoil and perplexity, working +silently towards the predestined end,--all these form together a subject +the contemplation of which need surely never weary. + +But yet there is another and very different species of enjoyment to be +derived from the records of the past, which requires a somewhat +different method of study in order that it may be fully tasted. Instead +of contemplating as it were from a distance the larger aspects of the +human drama, we may elect to move in familiar fellowship amid the scenes +and actors of special periods. We may add to the interest we derive from +the contemplation of contemporary politics, a similar interest derived +from a not less minute, and probably more accurate, knowledge of some +comparatively brief passage in the political history of the past. We may +extend the social circle in which we move, a circle perhaps narrowed and +restricted through circumstances beyond our control, by making intimate +acquaintances, perhaps even close friends, among a society long +departed, but which, when we have once learnt the trick of it, we may, +if it so pleases us, revive. + +It is this kind of historical reading which is usually branded as +frivolous and useless; and persons who indulge in it often delude +themselves into thinking that the real motive of their investigation +into bygone scenes and ancient scandals is philosophic interest in an +important historical episode, whereas in truth it is not the philosophy +which glorifies the details, but the details which make tolerable the +philosophy. Consider, for example, the case of the French Revolution. +The period from the taking of the Bastile to the fall of Robespierre is +about the same as that which very commonly intervenes between two of our +general elections. On these comparatively few months, libraries have +been written. The incidents of every week are matters of familiar +knowledge. The character and the biography of every actor in the drama +has been made the subject of minute study; and by common admission there +is no more fascinating page in the history of the world. But the +interest is not what is commonly called philosophic, it is personal. +Because the Revolution is the dominant fact in modern history, therefore +people suppose that the doings of this or that provincial lawyer, tossed +into temporary eminence and eternal infamy by some freak of the +revolutionary wave, or the atrocities committed by this or that mob, +half drunk with blood, rhetoric, and alcohol, are of transcendent +importance. In truth their interest is great, but their importance is +small. What we are concerned to know as students of the philosophy of +history is, not the character of each turn and eddy in the great social +cataract, but the manner in which the currents of the upper stream drew +surely in towards the final plunge, and slowly collected themselves +after the catastrophe again, to pursue at a different level their +renewed and comparatively tranquil course. + +Now, if so much of the interest of the French Revolution depends upon +our minute knowledge of each passing incident, how much more necessary +is such knowledge when we are dealing with the quiet nooks and corners +of history; when we are seeking an introduction, let us say, into the +literary society of Johnson, or the fashionable society of Walpole. +Society, dead or alive, can have no charm without intimacy, and no +intimacy without interest in trifles which I fear Mr. Harrison would +describe as "merely curious." If we would feel at our ease in any +company, if we wish to find humor in its jokes, and point in its +repartees, we must know something of the beliefs and the prejudices of +its various members, their loves and their hates, their hopes and their +fears, their maladies, their marriages, and their flirtations. If these +things are beneath our notice, we shall not be the less qualified to +serve our Queen and country, but need make no attempt to extract +pleasure from one of the most delightful departments of literature. + +That there is such a thing as trifling information I do not of course +question; but the frame of mind in which the reader is constantly +weighing the exact importance to the universe at large of each +circumstance which the author presents to his notice, is not one +conducive to the true enjoyment of a picture whose effect depends upon a +multitude of slight and seemingly insignificant touches, which impress +the mind often without remaining in the memory. The best method of +guarding against the danger of reading what is useless is to read only +what is interesting; a truth which will seem a paradox to a whole class +of readers, fitting objects of our commiseration, who may be often +recognized by their habit of asking some adviser for a list of books, +and then marking out a scheme of study in the course of which all are to +be conscientiously perused. These unfortunate persons apparently read a +book principally with the object of getting to the end of it. They reach +the word _Finis_ with the same sensation of triumph as an Indian feels +who strings a fresh scalp to his girdle. They are not happy unless they +mark by some definite performance each step in the weary path of +self-improvement. To begin a volume and not to finish it would be to +deprive themselves of this satisfaction; it would be to lose all the +reward of their earlier self-denial by a lapse from virtue at the end. +To skip, according to their literary code, is a species of cheating; it +is a mode of obtaining credit for erudition on false pretenses; a plan +by which the advantages of learning are surreptitiously obtained by +those who have not won them by honest toil. But all this is quite wrong. +In matters literary, works have no saving efficacy. He has only half +learnt the art of reading who has not added to it the even more refined +accomplishments of skipping and of skimming; and the first step has +hardly been taken in the direction of making literature a pleasure until +interest in the subject, and not a desire to spare (so to speak) the +author's feelings, or to accomplish an appointed task, is the prevailing +motive of the reader. + +I have now reached, not indeed the end of my subject, which I have +scarcely begun, but the limits inexorably set by the circumstances under +which it is treated. Yet I am unwilling to conclude without meeting an +objection to my method of dealing with it, which has I am sure been +present to the minds of not a few who have been good enough to listen to +me with patience. It will be said that I have ignored the higher +functions of literature; that I have degraded it from its rightful +place, by discussing only certain ways in which it may minister to the +entertainment of an idle hour, leaving wholly out of sight its +contributions to what Mr. Harrison calls our "spiritual sustenance." +Now, this is partly because the first of these topics and not the second +was the avowed subject of my address; but it is partly because I am +deliberately of opinion that it is the pleasures and not the profits, +spiritual or temporal, of literature which most require to be preached +in the ear of the ordinary reader. I hold indeed the faith that all such +pleasures minister to the development of much that is best in +man--mental and moral; but the charm is broken and the object lost if +the remote consequence is consciously pursued to the exclusion of the +immediate end. It will not, I suppose, be denied that the beauties of +nature are at least as well qualified to minister to our higher needs as +are the beauties of literature. Yet we do not say we are going to walk +to the top of such and such a hill in order to drink in "spiritual +sustenance." We say we are going to look at the view. And I am convinced +that this, which is the natural and simple way of considering literature +as well as nature, is also the true way. The habit of always requiring +some reward for knowledge beyond the knowledge itself, be that reward +some material prize or be it what is vaguely called self-improvement, is +one with which I confess I have little sympathy, fostered though it is +by the whole scheme of our modern education. Do not suppose that I +desire the impossible. I would not if I could destroy the examination +system. But there are times, I confess, when I feel tempted somewhat to +vary the prayer of the poet, and to ask whether Heaven has not reserved, +in pity to this much-educating generation, some peaceful desert of +literature as yet unclaimed by the crammer or the coach; where it might +be possible for the student to wander, even perhaps to stray, at his own +pleasure without finding every beauty labeled, every difficulty +engineered, every nook surveyed, and a professional cicerone standing at +every corner to guide each succeeding traveler along the same well-worn +round. If such a wish were granted, I would further ask that the domain +of knowledge thus "neutralized" should be the literature of our own +country. I grant to the full that the systematic study of _some_ +literature must be a principal element in the education of youth. But +why should that literature be our own? Why should we brush off the bloom +and freshness from the works to which Englishmen and Scotchmen most +naturally turn for refreshment,--namely, those written in their own +language? Why should we associate them with the memory of hours spent in +weary study; in the effort to remember for purposes of examination what +no human being would wish to remember for any other; in the struggle to +learn something, not because the learner desires to know it, because he +desires some one else to know that he knows it? This is the dark side of +the examination system; a system necessary and therefore excellent, but +one which does, through the very efficiency and thoroughness of the +drill by which it imparts knowledge, to some extent impair the most +delicate pleasures by which the acquisition of knowledge should +be attended. + +How great those pleasures may be, I trust there are many here who can +testify. When I compare the position of the reader of to-day with that +of his predecessor of the sixteenth century. I am amazed at the +ingratitude of those who are tempted even for a moment to regret the +invention of printing and the multiplication of books. There is now no +mood of mind to which a man may not administer the appropriate nutriment +or medicine at the cost of reaching down a volume from his bookshelf. In +every department of knowledge infinitely more is known, and what is +known is incomparably more accessible, than it was to our ancestors. The +lighter forms of literature, good, bad, and indifferent, which have +added so vastly to the happiness of mankind, have increased beyond +powers of computation; nor do I believe that there is any reason to +think that they have elbowed out their more serious and important +brethren. It is perfectly possible for a man, not a professed student, +and who only gives to reading the leisure hours of a business life, to +acquire such a general knowledge of the laws of nature and the facts of +history that every great advance made in either department shall be to +him both intelligible and interesting; and he may besides have among his +familiar friends many a departed worthy whose memory is embalmed in the +pages of memoir or biography. All this is ours for the asking. All this +we shall ask for, if only it be our happy fortune to love for its own +sake the beauty and the knowledge to be gathered from books. And if this +be our fortune, the world may be kind or unkind, it may seem to us to be +hastening on the wings of enlightenment and progress to an imminent +millennium, or it may weigh us down with the sense of insoluble +difficulty and irremediable wrong; but whatever else it be, so long as +we have good health and a good library, it can hardly be dull. + + + + +THE BALLAD + +(Popular or Communal) + +BY F.B. GUMMERE + + +The popular ballad, as it is understood for the purpose of these +selections, is a narrative in lyric form, with no traces of individual +authorship, and is preserved mainly by oral tradition. In its earliest +stages it was meant to be sung by a crowd, and got its name from the +dance to which it furnished the sole musical accompaniment. In these +primitive communities the ballad was doubtless chanted by the entire +folk, in festivals mainly of a religious character. Explorers still meet +something of the sort in savage tribes: and children's games preserve +among us some relics of this protoplasmic form of verse-making, in which +the single poet or artist was practically unknown, and spontaneous, +improvised verses arose out of the occasion itself; in which the whole +community took part; and in which the beat of foot--along with the +gesture which expressed narrative elements of the song--was inseparable +from the words and the melody. This native growth of song, in which the +chorus or refrain, the dance of a festal multitude, and the spontaneous +nature of the words, were vital conditions, gradually faded away before +the advance of cultivated verse and the vigor of production in what one +may call poetry of the schools. Very early in the history of the ballad, +a demand for more art must have called out or at least emphasized the +artist, the poet, who chanted new verses while the throng kept up the +refrain or burden. Moreover, as interest was concentrated upon the words +or story, people began to feel that both dance and melody were separable +if not alien features; and thus they demanded the composed and recited +ballad, to the harm and ultimate ruin of that spontaneous song for the +festal, dancing crowd. Still, even when artistry had found a footing in +ballad verse, it long remained mere agent and mouthpiece for the folk; +the communal character of the ballad was maintained in form and matter. +Events of interest were sung in almost contemporary and entirely +improvised verse; and the resulting ballads, carried over the borders of +their community and passed down from generation to generation, served as +newspaper to their own times and as chronicle to posterity. It is the +kind of song to which Tacitus bears witness as the sole form of history +among the early Germans; and it is evident that such a stock of ballads +must have furnished considerable raw material to the epic. Ballads, in +whatever original shape, went to the making of the English 'Béowulf,' +of the German 'Nibelungenlied.' Moreover, a study of dramatic poetry +leads one back to similar communal origins. What is loosely called a +"chorus,"--originally, as the name implies, a dance--out of which older +forms of the drama were developed, could be traced back to identity with +primitive forms of the ballad. The purely lyrical ballad, even, the +_chanson_ of the people, so rare in English but so abundant among other +races, is evidently a growth from the same root. + +If, now, we assume for this root the name of communal poem, and if we +bear in mind the dominant importance of the individual, the artist, in +advancing stages of poetry, it is easy to understand why for civilized +and lettered communities the ballad has ceased to have any vitality +whatever. Under modern conditions the making of ballads is a closed +account. For our times poetry means something written by a poet, and not +something sung more or less spontaneously by a dancing throng. Indeed, +paper and ink, the agents of preservation in the case of ordinary verse, +are for ballads the agents of destruction. The broadside press of three +centuries ago, while it rescued here and there a genuine ballad, poured +out a mass of vulgar imitations which not only displaced and destroyed +the ballad of oral tradition, but brought contempt upon good and bad +alike. Poetry of the people, to which our ballad belongs, is a thing of +the past. Even rude and distant communities, like those of Afghanistan, +cannot give us the primitive conditions. The communal ballad is rescued, +when rescued at all, by the fragile chances of a written copy or of oral +tradition; and we are obliged to study it under terms of artistic +poetry,--that is, we are forced to take through the eye and the judgment +what was meant for the ear and immediate sensation. Poetry _for_ the +people, however, "popular poetry" in the modern phrase, is a very +different affair. Street songs, vulgar rhymes, or even improvisations of +the concert-halls, tawdry and sentimental stuff,--these things are +sundered by the world's width from poetry _of_ the people, from the folk +in verse, whether it echo in a great epos which chants the clash of +empires or linger in a ballad of the countryside sung under the village +linden. For this ballad is a part of the poetry which comes from the +people as a whole, from a homogeneous folk, large or small; while the +song of street or concert-hall is deliberately composed for a class, a +section, of the community. It would therefore be better to use some +other term than "popular" when we wish to specify the ballad of +tradition, and so avoid all taint of vulgarity and the trivial. Nor must +we go to the other extreme. Those high-born people who figure in +traditional ballads--Childe Waters, Lady Maisry, and the rest--do not +require us to assume composition in aristocratic circles; for the lower +classes of the people in ballad days had no separate literature, and a +ballad of the folk belonged to the community as a whole. The same habit +of thought, the same standard of action, ruled alike the noble and his +meanest retainer. Oral transmission, the test of the ballad, is of +course nowhere possible save in such an unlettered community. Since all +critics are at one in regard to this homogeneous character of the folk +with whom and out of whom these songs had their birth, one is justified +in removing all doubt from the phrase by speaking not of the popular +ballad but of the communal ballad, the ballad of a community. + +With regard to the making of a ballad, one must repeat a caution, hinted +already, and made doubly important by a vicious tendency in the study of +all phases of culture. It is a vital mistake to explain primitive +conditions by exact analogy with conditions of modern savagery and +barbarism. Certain conclusions, always guarded and cautious to a degree, +may indeed be drawn; but it is folly to insist that what now goes on +among shunted races, belated detachments in the great march of culture, +must have gone on among the dominant and mounting peoples who had +reached the same external conditions of life. The homogeneous and +unlettered state of the ballad-makers is not to be put on a level with +the ignorance of barbarism, nor explained by the analogy of songs among +modern savage tribes. Fortunately we have better material. The making of +a ballad by a community can be illustrated from a case recorded by +Pastor Lyngbye in his invaluable account of life on the Faroe Islands a +century ago. Not only had the islanders used from most ancient times +their traditional and narrative songs as music for the dance, but they +had also maintained the old fashion of making a ballad. In the winter, +says Lyngbye, dancing is their chief amusement and is an affair of the +entire community. At such a dance, one or more persons begin to sing; +then all who are present join in the ballad, or at least in the refrain. +As they dance, they show by their gestures and expression that they +follow with eagerness the course of the story which they are singing. +More than this, the ballad is often a spontaneous product of the +occasion. A fisherman, who has had some recent mishap with his boat, is +pushed by stalwart comrades into the middle of the throng, while the +dancers sing verses about him and his lack of skill,--verses improvised +on the spot and with a catching and clamorous refrain. If these verses +win favor, says Lyngbye, they are repeated from year to year, with +slight additions or corrections, and become a permanent ballad. Bearing +in mind the extraordinary readiness to improvise shown even in these +days by peasants in every part of Europe, we thus gain some definite +notion about the spontaneous and communal elements which went to the +making of the best type of primitive verse; for these Faroe islanders +were no savages, but simply a homeogeneous and isolated folk which +still held to the old ways of communal song. + +Critics of the ballad, moreover, agree that it has little or no +subjective traits,--an easy inference from the conditions just +described. There is no individuality lurking behind the words of the +ballad, and above all, no evidence of that individuality in the form of +sentiment. Sentiment and individuality are the very essence of modern +poetry, and the direct result of individualism in verse. Given a poet, +sentiment--and it may be noble and precious enough--is sure to follow. +But the ballad, an epic in little, forces one's attention to the object, +the scene, the story, and away from the maker. + + "The king sits in Dumferling town." + +begins one of the noblest of all ballads; while one of the greatest of +modern poems opens with something personal and pathetic, key-note to all +that follows:-- + + "My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains + My sense ..." + +Even when a great poet essays the ballad, either he puts sentiment into +it, or else he keeps sentiment out of it by a _tour de force_. Admirable +and noble as one must call the conclusion of an artistic ballad such as +Tennyson's 'Revenge,' it is altogether different from the conclusion of +such a communal ballad as 'Sir Patrick Spens.' That subtle quality of +the ballad which lies in solution with the story and which--as in 'Child +Maurice' or 'Babylon' or 'Edward'--compels in us sensations akin to +those called out by the sentiment of the poet, is a wholly impersonal if +strangely effective quality, far removed from the corresponding elements +of the poem of art. At first sight, one might say that Browning's +dramatic lyrics had this impersonal quality. But compare the close of +'Give a Rouse,' chorus and all, with the close of 'Child Maurice,' that +swift and relentless stroke of pure tragedy which called out the +enthusiasm of so great a critic as Gray. + +The narrative of the communal ballad is full of leaps and omissions; the +style is simple to a fault; the diction is spontaneous and free. +Assonance frequently takes the place of rhyme, and a word often rhymes +with itself. There is a lack of poetic adornment in the style quite as +conspicuous as the lack of reflection and moralizing in the matter. +Metaphor and simile are rare and when found are for the most part +standing phrases common to all the ballads; there is never poetry for +poetry's sake. Iteration is the chief mark of ballad style; and the +favorite form of this effective figure is what one may call incremental +repetition. The question is repeated with the answer; each increment in +a series of related facts has a stanza for itself, identical, save for +the new fact, with the other stanzas. 'Babylon' furnishes good instances +of this progressive iteration. Moreover, the ballad differs from earlier +English epics in that it invariably has stanzas and rhyme; of the two +forms of stanza, the two-line stanza with a refrain is probably older +than the stanza with four or six lines. + +This necessary quality of the stanza points to the origin of the ballad +in song; but longer ballads, such as those that make up the 'Gest of +Robin Hood,' an epic in little, were not sung as lyrics or to aid the +dance, but were either chanted in a monotonous fashion or else recited +outright. Chappell, in his admirable work on old English music ('Music +of the Olden Time,' ii. 790), names a third class of "characteristic +airs of England,"--the "historical and very long ballads, ... invariably +of simple construction, usually plaintive.... They were rarely if ever +used for dancing." Most of the longer ballads, however, were doubtless +given by one person in a sort of recitative; this is the case with +modern ballads of Russia and Servia, where the bystanders now and then +join in a chorus. Precisely in the same way ballads were divorced from +the dance, originally their vital condition; but in the refrain, which +is attached to so many ballads, one finds an element which has survived +from those earliest days of communal song. + +Of oldest communal poetry no actual ballad has come down to us. Hints +and even fragments, however, are pointed out in ancient records, mainly +as the material of chronicle or legend. In the Bible (Numbers xxi. 17), +where "Israel sang this song," we are not going too far when we regard +the fragment as part of a communal ballad. "Spring up, O well: sing ye +unto it: the princes digged the well, the nobles of the people digged +it, by the direction of the lawgiver, with their staves." Deborah's song +has something of the communal note; and when Miriam dances and sings +with her maidens, one is reminded of the many ballads made by dancing +and singing bands of women in mediæval Europe,--for instance, the song +made in the seventh century to the honor of St. Faro, and "sung by the +women as they danced and clapped their hands." The question of ancient +Greek ballads, and their relation to the epic, is not to be discussed +here; nor can we make more than an allusion to the theory of Niebuhr +that the early part of Livy is founded on, old Roman ballads. A popular +discussion of this matter may be found in Macaulay's preface to his own +'Lays of Ancient Rome.' The ballads of modern Europe are a survival of +older communal poetry, more or less influenced by artistic and +individual conditions of authorship, but wholly impersonal, and with an +appeal to our interest which seems to come from a throng and not from +the solitary poet. Attention was early called to the ballads of Spain; +printed at first as broadsides, they were gathered into a volume as +early as 1550. On the other hand, ballads were neglected in France until +very recent times; for specimens of the French ballad, and for an +account of it, the reader should consult Professor Crane's 'Chansons +Populaires de France,' New York, 1891. It is with ballads of the +Germanic race, however, that we are now concerned. Denmark, Norway, +Sweden, Iceland, the Faroe Islands; Scotland and England; the +Netherlands and Germany: all of these countries offer us admirable +specimens of the ballad. Particularly, the great collections of +Grundtvig ('Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser') for Denmark, and of Child ('The +English and Scottish Popular Ballads') for our own tongue, show how +common descent or borrowing connects the individual ballads of these +groups. "Almost every Norwegian, Swedish, or Icelandic ballad," says +Grundtvig, "is found in a Danish version of Scandinavian ballads; +moreover, a larger number can be found in English and Scottish versions +than in German or Dutch versions." Again, we find certain national +preferences in the character of the ballads which have come down to us. +Scandinavia kept the old heroic lays (Kaempeviser); Germany wove them +into her epic, as witness the Nibelungen Lay; but England and Scotland +have none of them in any shape. So, too, the mythic ballad, scantily +represented in English, and practically unknown in Germany, abounds in +Scandinavian collections. The Faroe Islands and Norway, as Grundtvig +tells us, show the best record for ballads preserved by oral tradition; +while noble ladies of Denmark, three or four centuries ago, did high +service to ballad literature by making collections in manuscript of the +songs current then in the castle as in the cottage. + +For England, one is compelled to begin the list of known ballads with +the thirteenth century. 'The Battle of Maldon,' composed in the last +decade of the tenth century, though spirited enough and full of communal +vigor, has no stanzaic structure, follows in metre and style the rules +of the Old English epic, and is only a ballad by courtesy; about the +ballads used a century or two later by historians of England, we can do +nothing but guess; and there is no firm ground under the critic's foot +until he comes to the Robin Hood ballads, which Professor Child assigns +to the thirteenth century. 'The Battle of Otterburn' (1388) opens a +series of ballads based on actual events and stretching into the +eighteenth century. Barring the Robin Hood cycle,--an epic constructed +from this attractive material lies before us in the famous 'Gest of +Robin Hood,' printed as early as 1489,--the chief sources of the +collector are the Percy Manuscript, "written just before 1650,"--on +which, not without omissions and additions, the bishop based his +'Reliques,' first published in 1765,--and the oral traditions of +Scotland, which Professor Child refers to "the last one hundred and +thirty years." Information about the individual ballads, their sources, +history, literary connections, and above all, their varying texts, must +be sought in the noble work of Professor F.J. Child. For present +purposes, a word or two of general information must suffice. As to +origins, there is a wide range. The church furnished its legend, as in +'St. Stephen'; romance contributed the story of 'Thomas Rymer'; and the +light, even cynical _fabliau_ is responsible for 'The Boy and the +Mantle.' Ballads which occur in many tongues either may have a common +origin or else may owe their manifold versions, as in the case of +popular tales, to a love of borrowing; and here, of course, we get the +hint of wider issues. For the most part, however, a ballad tells some +moving story, preferably of fighting and of love. Tragedy is the +dominant note; and English ballads of the best type deal with those +elements of domestic disaster so familiar in the great dramas of +literature, in the story of Orestes, or of Hamlet, or of the Cid. Such +are 'Edward,' 'Lord Randal,' 'The Two Brothers,' 'The Two Sisters,' +'Child Maurice,' 'Bewick and Graham,' 'Clerk Colven,' 'Little Musgrave +and Lady Barnard,' 'Glasgerion,' and many others. Another group of +ballads, represented by the 'Baron of Brackley' and 'Captain Car,' give +a faithful picture of the feuds and ceaseless warfare in Scotland and on +the border. A few fine ballads--'Sweet William's Ghost,' 'The Wife of +Usher's Well'--touch upon the supernatural. Of the romantic ballads, +'Childe Waters' shows us the higher, and 'Young Beichan' the lower, but +still sound and communal type. Incipient dramatic tendencies mark +'Edward' and 'Lord Randal'; while, on the other hand, a lyric note +almost carries 'Bonnie George Campbell' out of balladry. Finally, it is +to be noted that in the 'Nut-Brown Maid,' which many would +unhesitatingly refer to this class of poetry, we have no ballad at all, +but a dramatic lyric, probably written by a woman, and with a special +plea in the background. + +[Illustration: Signature: F.B. Gummere] + + + ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE[8] + + 1. When shawes[9] beene sheene[10], and shradds[11] full fayre, + And leeves both large and longe, + It is merry, walking in the fayre forrest, + To heare the small birds' songe. + + 2. The woodweele[12] sang, and wold not cease, + Amongst the leaves a lyne[13]; + And it is by two wight[14] yeomen, + By deare God, that I meane. + + * * * * * + + 3. "Me thought they[15] did me beate and binde, + And tooke my bow me fro; + If I bee Robin alive in this lande, + I'll be wrocken[16] on both them two." + + 4. "Sweavens[17] are swift, master," quoth John, + "As the wind that blowes ore a hill; + For if it be never soe lowde this night, + To-morrow it may be still." + + 5. "Buske ye, bowne ye[18], my merry men all, + For John shall go with me; + For I'll goe seeke yond wight yeomen + In greenwood where they bee." + + 6. They cast on their gowne of greene, + A shooting gone are they, + Until they came to the merry greenwood, + Where they had gladdest bee; + There were they ware of a wight yeoman, + His body leaned to a tree. + + 7. A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, + Had beene many a man's bane[19], + And he was cladd in his capull-hyde[20], + Topp, and tayle, and mayne. + + 8. "Stand you still, master," quoth Litle John, + "Under this trusty tree, + And I will goe to yond wight yeoman, + To know his meaning trulye." + + 9. "A, John, by me thou setts noe store, + And that's a farley[21] thinge; + How offt send I my men before, + And tarry myselfe behinde?" + + 10. "It is noe cunning a knave to ken, + And a man but heare him speake; + And it were not for bursting of my bowe, + John, I wold thy head breake." + + 11. But often words they breeden bale, + That parted Robin and John; + John is gone to Barnesdale, + The gates[22] he knowes eche one. + + 12. And when hee came to Barnesdale, + Great heavinesse there hee hadd; + He found two of his fellowes + Were slaine both in a slade[23], + + 13. And Scarlett a foote flyinge was, + Over stockes and stone, + For the sheriffe with seven score men + Fast after him is gone. + + 14. "Yet one shoote I'll shoote," sayes Litle John, + "With Crist his might and mayne; + I'll make yond fellow that flyes soe fast + To be both glad and faine." + + 15. John bent up a good veiwe bow[24], + And fetteled[25] him to shoote; + The bow was made of a tender boughe, + And fell downe to his foote. + + 16. "Woe worth[26] thee, wicked wood," sayd Litle John, + "That ere thou grew on a tree! + For this day thou art my bale, + My boote[27] when thou shold bee!" + + 17. This shoote it was but looselye shott, + The arrowe flew in vaine, + And it mett one of the sheriffe's men; + Good William a Trent was slaine. + + 18. It had beene better for William a Trent + To hange upon a gallowe + Then for to lye in the greenwoode, + There slaine with an arrowe. + + 19. And it is sayed, when men be mett, + Six can doe more than three: + And they have tane Litle John, + And bound him fast to a tree. + + 20. "Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe," quoth the sheriffe[28], + "And hanged hye on a hill:" + "But thou may fayle," quoth Litle John + "If it be Christ's owne will." + + 21. Let us leave talking of Litle John, + For hee is bound fast to a tree, + And talke of Guy and Robin Hood + In the green woode where they bee. + + 22. How these two yeomen together they mett, + Under the leaves of lyne, + To see what marchandise they made + Even at that same time. + + 23. "Good morrow, good fellow," quoth Sir Guy; + "Good morrow, good fellow," quoth hee; + "Methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand, + A good archer thou seems to bee." + + 24. "I am wilfull of my way[29]," quoth Sir Guy, + "And of my morning tyde:" + "I'll lead thee through the wood," quoth Robin, + "Good fellow, I'll be thy guide." + + 25. "I seeke an outlaw," quoth Sir Guy, + "Men call him Robin Hood; + I had rather meet with him upon a day + Then forty pound of golde." + + 26. "If you tow mett, it wold be seene whether were better + Afore yee did part awaye; + Let us some other pastime find, + Good fellow, I thee pray." + + 27. "Let us some other masteryes make, + And we will walke in the woods even; + Wee may chance meet with Robin Hood + At some unsett steven[30]." + + 28. They cutt them downe the summer shroggs[31] + Which grew both under a bryar, + And sett them three score rood in twinn[32], + To shoote the prickes[33] full neare. + + 29. "Leade on, good fellow," sayd Sir Guye, + "Leade on, I doe bidd thee:" + "Nay, by my faith," quoth Robin Hood, + "The leader thou shalt bee." + + 30. The first good shoot that Robin ledd, + Did not shoote an inch the pricke froe, + Guy was an archer good enoughe, + But he could neere shoote soe. + + 31. The second shoote Sir Guy shott, + He shott within the garlande[34], + But Robin Hoode shott it better than hee, + For he clove the good pricke-wande. + + 32. "God's blessing on thy heart!" sayes Guye, + "Goode fellow, thy shooting is goode; + For an thy hart be as good as thy hands, + Thou were better than Robin Hood." + + 33. "Tell me thy name, good fellow," quoth Guye, + "Under the leaves of lyne:" + "Nay, by my faith," quoth good Robin, + "Till thou have told me thine." + + 34. "I dwell by dale and downe," quoth Guye, + "And I have done many a curst turne; + And he that calles me by my right name, + Calles me Guye of good Gysborne." + + 35. "My dwelling is in the wood," sayes Robin; + "By thee I set right nought; + My name is Robin Hood of Barnesdale, + A fellow thou hast long sought." + + 36. He that had neither beene a kithe nor kin + Might have seene a full fayre sight. + To see how together these yeomen went, + With blades both browne and bright. + + 37. To have seene how these yeomen together fought + Two howers of a summer's day; + It was neither Guy nor Robin Hood + That fettled them to flye away. + + 38. Robin was reacheles[35] on a roote, + And stumbled at that tyde, + And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all, + And hitt him ore the left side. + + 39. "Ah, deere Lady!" sayd Robin Hoode, + "Thou art both mother and may[36]! + I thinke it was never man's destinye + To dye before his day." + + 40. Robin thought on Our Lady deere, + And soone leapt up againe, + And thus he came with an awkwarde[37] stroke; + Good Sir Guy hee has slayne. + + 41. He tooke Sir Guy's head by the hayre, + And sticked it on his bowe's end: + "Thou has beene traytor all thy life, + Which thing must have an ende." + + 42. Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe, + And nicked Sir Guy in the face, + That he was never on[38] a woman borne + Could tell who Sir Guye was. + + 43. Saies, Lye there, lye there, good Sir Guye, + And with me not wrothe; + If thou have had the worse stroakes at my hand, + Thou shalt have the better cloathe. + + 44. Robin did off his gowne of greene, + Sir Guye he did it throwe; + And he put on that capull-hyde + That clad him topp to toe. + + 45. "Tis bowe, the arrowes, and litle horne, + And with me now I'll beare; + For now I will goe to Barnesdale, + To see how my men doe fare." + + 46. Robin sett Guye's horne to his mouth, + A lowd blast in it he did blow; + That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham, + As he leaned under a lowe[39]. + + 47. "Hearken! hearken!" sayd the sheriffe, + "I heard noe tydings but good; + For yonder I heare Sir Guye's horne blowe, + For he hath slaine Robin Hoode." + + 48. "For yonder I heare Sir Guye's horne blowe, + It blowes soe well in tyde, + For yonder conies that wighty yeoman + Cladd in his capull-hyde." + + 49. "Come hither, thou good Sir Guy, + Aske of mee what thou wilt have:" + "I'll none of thy gold," sayes Robin Hood, + "Nor I'll none of it have." + + 50. "But now I have slaine the master," he sayd, + "Let me goe strike the knave; + This is all the reward I aske, + Nor noe other will I have." + + 51. "Thou art a madman," said the sheriffe, + "Thou sholdest have had a knight's fee; + Seeing thy asking hath beene soe badd, + Well granted it shall be." + + 52. But Litle John heard his master speake, + Well he knew that was his steven[40]; + "Now shall I be loset," quoth Litle John, + "With Christ's might in heaven." + + 53. But Robin hee hyed him towards Litle John, + Hee thought hee wold loose him belive; + The sheriffe and all his companye + Fast after him did drive. + + 54. "Stand abacke! stand abacke!" sayd Robin; + "Why draw you mee soe neere? + It was never the use in our countrye + One's shrift another should heere." + + 55. But Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffe, + And losed John hand and foote, + And gave him Sir Guye's bow in his hand, + And bade it be his boote. + + 56. But John tooke Guye's bow in his hand + (His arrowes were rawstye[41] by the roote); + The sherriffe saw Litle John draw a bow + And fettle him to shoote. + + 57. Towards his house in Nottingham + He fled full fast away, + And so did all his companye, + Not one behind did stay. + + 58. But he cold neither soe fast goe, + Nor away soe fast runn, + But Litle John, with an arrow broade, + Did cleave his heart in twinn. + + [Footnote 8: This ballad is a good specimen of the Robin Hood + Cycle, and is remarkable for its many proverbial and + alliterative phrases. A few lines have been lost between + stanzas 2 and 3. Gisborne is a "market-town in the West + Riding of the County of York, on the borders of Lancashire." + For the probable tune of the ballad, see Chappell's 'Popular + Music of the Olden Time,' ii. 397.] + + [Footnote 9: Woods, groves.--This touch of description at the + outset is common in our old ballads, as well as in the + mediæval German popular lyric, and may perhaps spring from + the old "summer-lays" and chorus of pagan times.] + + [Footnote 10: Beautiful; German, _schön_.] + + [Footnote 11: Coppices or openings in a wood.] + + [Footnote 12: In some glossaries the woodpecker, but here of + course a song-bird,--perhaps, as Chappell suggests, the + woodlark.] + + [Footnote 13: _A_, on; _lyne_, lime or linden.] + + [Footnote 14: Sturdy, brave.] + + [Footnote 15: Robin now tells of a dream in which "they" + (=the two "wight yeomen," who are Guy and, as Professor Child + suggests, the Sheriff of Nottingham) maltreat him; and he + thus foresees trouble "from two quarters."] + + [Footnote 16: Revenged.] + + [Footnote 17: Dreams.] + + [Footnote 18: Tautological phrase,--"prepare and make + ready."] + + [Footnote 19: Murder, destruction.] + + [Footnote 20: Horse's hide.] + + [Footnote 21: Strange.] + + [Footnote 22: Paths.] + + [Footnote 23: Green valley between woods.] + + [Footnote 24: Perhaps the yew-bow.] + + [Footnote 25: Made ready.] + + [Footnote 26: "Woe be to thee." _Worth_ is the old + subjunctive present of an exact English equivalent to the + modern German _werden_.] + + [Footnote 27: Note these alliterative phrases. _Boote_, + remedy.] + + [Footnote 28: As Percy noted, this "quoth the sheriffe," was + probably added by some explainer. The reader, however, must + remember the license of slurring or contracting the syllables + of a word, as well as the opposite freedom of expansion. Thus + in the second line of stanza 7, _man's_ is to be pronounced + _man-ës._] + + [Footnote 29: I have lost my way.] + + [Footnote 30: At some unappointed time,--by chance.] + + [Footnote 31: Stunted shrubs.] + + [Footnote 32: Apart.] + + [Footnote 33: "_Prickes_ seem to have been the long-range + targets, _butts_ the near."--Furnivall.] + + [Footnote 34: _Garlande_, perhaps "the ring within which the + prick was set"; and the _pricke-wande_ perhaps a pole or + stick. The terms are not easy to understand clearly.] + + [Footnote 35: Reckless, careless.] + + [Footnote 36: Maiden.] + + [Footnote 37: Dangerous, or perhaps simply backward, + backhanded.] + + [Footnote 38: _On_ is frequently used for _of_.] + + [Footnote 39: Hillock.] + + [Footnote 40: Voice.] + + [Footnote 41: Rusty] + + + THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT + + [This is the older and better version of the famous ballad. + The younger version was the subject of Addison's papers in + the Spectator.] + + 1. The Percy out of Northumberlande, + and a vowe to God mayd he + That he would hunte in the mountayns + of Cheviot within days thre, + In the magger[42] of doughty Douglas, + and all that ever with him be. + + 2. The fattiste hartes in all Cheviot + he sayd he would kyll, and cary them away: + "Be my feth," sayd the doughty Douglas agayn, + "I will let[43] that hontyng if that I may." + + 3. Then the Percy out of Banborowe cam, + with him a myghtee meany[44], + With fifteen hondred archares bold of blood and bone; + they were chosen out of shyars thre. + + 4. This began on a Monday at morn, + in Cheviot the hillys so he; + The chyld may rue that ys unborn, + it was the more pittë. + + 5. The dryvars thorowe the woodës went, + for to reas the deer; + Bowmen byckarte uppone the bent[45] + with their browd arrows cleare. + + 6. Then the wyld thorowe the woodës went, + on every sydë shear; + Greahondës thorowe the grevis glent[46], + for to kyll their deer. + + 7. This begane in Cheviot the hyls abone, + yerly on a Monnyn-day; + Be that it drewe to the hour of noon, + a hondred fat hartës ded ther lay. + + 8. They blewe a mort[47] uppone the bent, + they semblyde on sydis shear; + To the quyrry then the Percy went, + to see the bryttlynge[48] of the deere. + + 9. He sayd, "It was the Douglas promys + this day to met me hear; + But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;" + a great oth the Percy swear. + + 10. At the laste a squyar of Northumberlande + lokyde at his hand full ny; + He was war a the doughtie Douglas commynge, + with him a myghtë meany. + + 11. Both with spear, bylle, and brande, + yt was a myghtë sight to se; + Hardyar men, both of hart nor hande, + were not in Cristiantë. + + 12. They were twenty hondred spear-men good, + withoute any fail; + They were borne along be the water a Twyde, + yth bowndës of Tividale. + + 13. "Leave of the brytlyng of the deer," he said, + "and to your bows look ye tayk good hede; + For never sithe ye were on your mothers borne + had ye never so mickle nede." + + 14. The doughty Douglas on a stede, + he rode alle his men beforne; + His armor glytteyrde as dyd a glede[49]; + a boldar barne was never born. + + 15. "Tell me whose men ye are," he says, + "or whose men that ye be: + Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Cheviot chays, + in the spyt of myn and of me." + + 16. The first man that ever him an answer mayd, + yt was the good lord Percy: + "We wyll not tell the whose men we are," he says, + "nor whose men that we be; + But we wyll hounte here in this chays, + in spyt of thyne and of the." + + 17. "The fattiste hartës in all Cheviot + we have kyld, and cast to carry them away:" + "Be my troth," sayd the doughty Douglas agayn, + "therefor the tone of us shall die this day." + + 18. Then sayd the doughtë Douglas + unto the lord Percy, + "To kyll alle thes giltles men, + alas, it wear great pittë!" + + 19. "But, Percy, thowe art a lord of lande, + I am a yerle callyd within my contrë; + Let all our men uppone a parti stande, + and do the battell of the and of me." + + 20. "Nowe Cristes curse on his crowne," sayd the lord Percy, + "whosoever thereto says nay; + Be my troth, doughty Douglas," he says, + "thow shalt never se that day." + + 21. "Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nor France, + nor for no man of a woman born, + But, and fortune be my chance, + I dar met him, one man for one." + + 22. Then bespayke a squyar of Northumberlande, + Richard Wytharyngton was his name: + "It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde," he says, + "To Kyng Kerry the Fourth for shame." + + 23. "I wat youe byn great lordës twa, + I am a poor squyar of lande: + I wylle never se my captayne fyght on a fylde, + and stande my selffe and looke on, + But whylle I may my weppone welde, + I wylle not fayle both hart and hande." + + 24. That day, that day, that dredfull day! + the first fit here I fynde[50]; + And you wyll hear any more a the hountyng a the Cheviot + yet ys ther mor behynde. + + 25. The Yngglyshe men had their bowys ybent, + ther hartes were good yenoughe; + The first of arrows that they shote off, + seven skore spear-men they sloughe. + + 26. Yet bides the yerle Douglas upon the bent, + a captayne good yenoughe, + And that was sene verament, + for he wrought hem both wo and wouche. + + 27. The Douglas partyd his host in thre, + like a chief chieftain of pryde; + With sure spears of myghtty tre, + they cum in on every syde: + + 28. Throughe our Yngglyshe archery + gave many a wounde fulle wyde; + Many a doughty they garde to dy, + which ganyde them no pryde. + + 29. The Ynglyshe men let ther bowës be, + and pulde out brandes that were brighte; + It was a heavy syght to se + bryght swordes on basnites lyght. + + 30. Thorowe ryche male and myneyeple[51], + many sterne they strocke down straight; + Many a freyke[52] that was fulle fre, + there under foot dyd lyght. + + 31. At last the Douglas and the Percy met, + lyk to captayns of myght and of mayne; + The swapte together tylle they both swat, + with swordes that were of fine milan. + + 32. These worthy freckys for to fyght, + ther-to they were fulle fayne, + Tylle the bloode out off their basnetes sprente, + as ever dyd hail or rayn. + + 33. "Yield thee, Percy," sayd the Douglas, + "and i faith I shalle thee brynge + Where thowe shalte have a yerls wagis + of Jamy our Scottish kynge." + + 34. "Thou shalte have thy ransom fre, + I hight[53] the here this thinge; + For the manfullyste man yet art thow + that ever I conqueryd in fielde fighttynge." + + 35. "Nay," sayd the lord Percy, + "I tolde it thee beforne, + That I wolde never yeldyde be + to no man of a woman born." + + 36. With that ther came an arrow hastely, + forthe off a myghtty wane[54]; + It hath strekene the yerle Douglas + in at the brest-bane. + + 37. Thorowe lyvar and lungës bothe + the sharpe arrowe ys gane, + That never after in all his lyfe-days + he spayke mo wordës but ane: + That was, "Fyghte ye, my myrry men, whyllys ye may, + for my lyfe-days ben gane." + + 38. The Percy leanyde on his brande, + and sawe the Douglas de; + He tooke the dead man by the hande, + and said, "Wo ys me for thee!" + + 39. "To have savyde thy lyfe, I would have partyde with + my landes for years three, + For a better man, of hart nor of hande, + was not in all the north contrë." + + 40. Of all that see a Scottish knyght, + was callyd Sir Hewe the Monggombyrry; + He saw the Douglas to the death was dyght, + he spendyd a spear, a trusti tree. + + 41. He rode upon a corsiare + throughe a hondred archery; + He never stynttyde nor never blane[55], + till he came to the good lord Percy. + + 42. He set upon the lorde Percy + a dynte that was full sore; + With a sure spear of a myghttë tree + clean thorow the body he the Percy ber[56], + + 43. A the tother syde that a man might see + a large cloth-yard and mare; + Two better captayns were not in Cristiantë + than that day slain were there. + + 44. An archer off Northumberlande + saw slain was the lord Percy; + He bore a bende bowe in his hand, + was made of trusti tree; + + 45. An arrow, that a cloth-yarde was long, + to the harde stele halyde he; + A dynt that was both sad and soar + he set on Sir Hewe the Monggombyrry. + + 46. The dynt yt was both sad and sore, + that he of Monggombyrry set; + The swane-fethars that his arrowe bar + with his hart-blood they were wet. + + 47. There was never a freak one foot wolde flee, + but still in stour[57] dyd stand, + Hewyng on eache other, whyle they myghte dree, + with many a balefull brande. + + 48. This battell begane in Cheviot + an hour before the none, + And when even-songe bell was rang, + the battell was not half done. + + 49. They took ... on either hande + by the lyght of the mone; + Many hade no strength for to stande, + in Cheviot the hillys abon. + + 50. Of fifteen hundred archers of Ynglonde + went away but seventy and three; + Of twenty hundred spear-men of Scotlonde, + but even five and fifty. + + 51. But all were slayne Cheviot within; + they had no strength to stand on by; + The chylde may rue that ys unborne, + it was the more pittë. + + 52. There was slayne, withe the lord Percy, + Sir John of Agerstone, + Sir Rogar, the hinde Hartly, + Sir Wyllyam, the bold Hearone. + + 53. Sir George, the worthy Loumle, + a knyghte of great renown, + Sir Raff, the ryche Rugbe, + with dyntes were beaten downe. + + 54. For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, + that ever he slayne shulde be; + For when both his leggis were hewyn in to, + yet he kneeled and fought on hys knee. + + 55. There was slayne, with the doughty Douglas, + Sir Hewe the Monggombyrry, + Sir Davy Lwdale, that worthy was, + his sister's son was he. + + 56. Sir Charles a Murrë in that place, + that never a foot wolde fie; + Sir Hewe Maxwelle, a lorde he was, + with the Douglas dyd he die. + + 57. So on the morrowe they mayde them biers + off birch and hasell so gray; + Many widows, with weepyng tears, + came to fetch ther makys[58] away. + + 58. Tivydale may carpe of care, + Northumberland may mayk great moan, + For two such captayns as slayne were there, + on the March-parti shall never be none. + + 59. Word ys commen to Eddenburrowe, + to Jamy the Scottische kynge, + That doughty Douglas, lyff-tenant of the Marches, + he lay slean Cheviot within. + + 60. His handdës dyd he weal and wryng, + he sayd, "Alas, and woe ys me! + Such an othar captayn Skotland within," + he sayd, "i-faith should never be." + + 61. Worde ys commyn to lovely Londone, + till the fourth Harry our kynge. + That lord Percy, leyff-tenante of the Marchis + he lay slayne Cheviot within. + + 62. "God have merci on his soule," sayde Kyng Harry, + "good lord, yf thy will it be! + I have a hondred captayns in Ynglonde," he sayd, + "as good as ever was he: + But Percy, and I brook my lyfe, + thy deth well quyte shall be." + + 63. As our noble kynge mayd his avowe, + lyke a noble prince of renown, + For the deth of the lord Percy + he dyd the battle of Hombyll-down: + + 64. Where syx and thirty Skottishe knyghtes + on a day were beaten down: + Glendale glytteryde on their armor bryght, + over castille, towar, and town. + + 65. This was the hontynge of the Cheviot, + that tear[59] begane this spurn; + Old men that knowen the grownde well enoughe + call it the battell of Otterburn. + + 66. At Otterburn begane this spume + upon a Monnynday; + There was the doughty Douglas slean, + the Percy never went away. + + 67. There was never a tyme on the Marche-partës + sen the Douglas and the Percy met, + But yt ys mervele and the rede blude ronne not, + as the rain does in the stret. + + 68. Jesus Christ our bales[60] bete, + and to the bliss us bring! + Thus was the hunting of the Cheviot; + God send us alle good ending! + + [Footnote 42: 'Maugre,' in spite of.] + + [Footnote 43: Hinder.] + + [Footnote 44: Company.] + + [Footnote 45: Skirmished on the field.] + + [Footnote 46: Ran through the groves.] + + [Footnote 47: Blast blown when game is killed.] + + [Footnote 48: Quartering, cutting.] + + [Footnote 49: Flame.] + + [Footnote 50: Perhaps "finish."] + + [Footnote 51: "A gauntlet covering hand and forearm."] + + [Footnote 52: Man.] + + [Footnote 53: Promise.] + + [Footnote 54: Meaning uncertain.] + + [Footnote 55: Stopped.] + + [Footnote 56: Pierced.] + + [Footnote 57: Stress of battle.] + + [Footnote 58: Mates.] + + [Footnote 59: That there (?).] + + [Footnote 60: Evils.] + + + JOHNIE COCK + + 1. Up Johnie raise[61] in a May morning, + Calld for water to wash his hands, + And he has called for his gude gray hounds + That lay bound in iron bands, bands, + That lay bound in iron bands. + + 2. "Ye'll busk[62], ye'll busk my noble dogs, + Ye'll busk and make them boun[63], + For I'm going to the Braidscaur hill + To ding the dun deer doun." + + 3. Johnie's mother has gotten word o' that, + And care-bed she has ta'en[64]: + "O Johnie, for my benison, + I beg you'l stay at hame; + For the wine so red, and the well-baken bread, + My Johnie shall want nane." + + 4. "There are seven forsters at Pickeram Side, + At Pickeram where they dwell, + And for a drop of thy heart's bluid + They wad ride the fords of hell." + + 5. But Johnie has cast off the black velvet, + And put on the Lincoln twine, + And he is on the goode greenwood + As fast as he could gang. + + 6. Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, + And he lookit aneath the sun, + And there he spied the dun deer sleeping + Aneath a buss o' whun[65]. + + 7. Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap[66], + And she lap wondrous wide, + Until they came to the wan water, + And he stem'd her of her pride. + + 8. He has ta'en out the little pen-knife, + 'Twas full three quarters[67] long, + And he has ta'en out of that dun deer + The liver but and[68] the tongue. + + 9. They eat of the flesh, and they drank of the blood, + And the blood it was so sweet, + Which caused Johnie and his bloody hounds + To fall in a deep sleep. + + 10. By then came an old palmer, + And an ill death may he die! + For he's away to Pickeram Side + As fast as he can drie[69]. + + 11. "What news, what news?" says the Seven Forsters, + "What news have ye brought to me?" + "I have no news," the palmer said, + "But what I saw with my eye." + + 12. "As I came in by Braidisbanks, + And down among the whuns, + The bonniest youngster e'er I saw + Lay sleepin amang his hunds." + + 13. "The shirt that was upon his back + Was o' the holland fine; + The doublet which was over that + Was o' the Lincoln twine." + + 14. Up bespake the Seven Forsters, + Up bespake they ane and a': + "O that is Johnie o' Cockleys Well, + And near him we will draw." + + 15. O the first stroke that they gae him, + They struck him off by the knee, + Then up bespake his sister's son: + "O the next'll gar[70] him die!" + + 16. "O some they count ye well wight men, + But I do count ye nane; + For you might well ha' waken'd me, + And ask'd gin I wad be ta'en." + + 17. "The wildest wolf as in a' this wood + Wad not ha' done so by me; + She'd ha' wet her foot i' the wan water, + And sprinkled it o'er my brae, + And if that wad not ha' waken'd me, + She wad ha' gone and let me be." + + 18. "O bows of yew, if ye be true, + In London, where ye were bought, + Fingers five, get up belive[71], + Manhuid shall fail me nought." + + 19. He has kill'd the Seven Forsters, + He has kill'd them all but ane, + And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side, + To carry the bode-words hame. + + 20. "Is there never a [bird] in a' this wood + That will tell what I can say; + That will go to Cockleys Well, + Tell my mither to fetch me away?" + + 21. There was a [bird] into that wood, + That carried the tidings away, + And many ae[72] was the well-wight man + At the fetching o' Johnie away. + + [Footnote 61: Rose.] + + [Footnote 62: Prepare.] + + [Footnote 63: Ready.] + + [Footnote 64: Has fallen ill with anxiety.] + + [Footnote 65: Bush of whin, furze.] + + [Footnote 66: Leaped.] + + [Footnote 67: Quarter--the fourth part of a yard.] + + [Footnote 68: "But and"--as well as.] + + [Footnote 69: Bear, endure.] + + [Footnote 70: Make, cause.] + + [Footnote 71: Quickly.] + + [Footnote 72: One.] + + + SIR PATRICK SPENS + + 1. The king sits in Dumferling toune, + Drinking the blude-reid wine: + "O whar will I get guid sailor, + To sail this ship of mine?" + + 2. Up and spak an eldern knight, + Sat at the kings right kne: + "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor, + That sails upon the sea." + + 3. The king has written a braid letter[73], + And sign'd it wi' his hand, + And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, + Was walking on the sand. + + 4. The first line that Sir Patrick read, + A loud laugh laughed he; + The next line that Sir Patrick read, + The tear blinded his ee. + + 5. "O wha is this has done this deed, + This ill deed done to me, + To send me out this time o' the year, + To sail upon the sea!" + + 6. "Make haste, make haste, my mirry men all, + Our guide ship sails the morne:" + "O say na sae, my master dear, + For I fear a deadlie storme." + + 7. "Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone[74], + Wi' the auld moone in hir arme, + And I fear, I fear, my dear master, + That we will come to harme" + + 8. O our Scots nobles were right laith + To weet their cork-heeled shoone; + But lang owre a' the play wer play'd, + Their hats they swam aboone. + + 9. O lang, lang may their ladies sit, + Wi' their fans into their hand, + Or e'er they see Sir Patrick Spens + Cum sailing to the land. + + 10. O lang, lang may the ladies stand, + Wi' their gold kerns[75] in their hair, + Waiting for their ain dear lords, + For they'll se thame na mair. + + 11. Half owre, half owre to Aberdour, + It's "fiftie fadom deep, + And their lies guid Sir Patrick Spens, + Wi' the Scots lords at his feet." + + [Footnote 73: "_A braid letter_, open or patent, in + opposition to close rolls."--Percy.] + + [Footnote 74: Note that it is the sight of the new moon + _late_ in the evening which makes a bad omen.] + + [Footnote 75: Combs.] + + + THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY[76] + + 1. Ye highlands, and ye Lowlands, + Oh where have you been? + They have slain the Earl of Murray, + And they layd him on the green. + + 2. "Now wae be to thee, Huntly! + And wherefore did you sae? + I bade you bring him wi' you, + But forbade you him to slay." + + 3. He was a braw gallant, + And he rid at the ring[77]; + And the bonny Earl of Murray, + Oh he might have been a king! + + 4. He was a braw gallant, + And he play'd at the ba'; + And the bonny Earl of Murray + Was the flower amang them a'. + + 5. He was a braw gallant, + And he play'd at the glove[78]; + And the bonny Earl of Murray, + Oh he was the Queen's love! + + 6. Oh lang will his lady + Look o'er the Castle Down, + E'er she see the Earl of Murray + Come sounding thro the town! + + [Footnote 76: James Stewart, Earl of Murray, was killed by + the Earl of Huntly's followers, February, 1592. The second + stanza is spoken, of course, by the King.] + + [Footnote 77: Piercing with the lance a suspended ring, as + one rode at full speed, was a favorite sport of the day.] + + [Footnote 78: Probably this reference is to the glove worn by + knights as a lady's favor.] + + + MARY HAMILTON + + 1. Word's gane to the kitchen, + And word's gane to the ha', + That Marie Hamilton has born a bairn + To the highest Stewart of a'. + + 2. She's tyed it in her apron + And she's thrown it in the sea; + Says, "Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe, + You'll ne'er get mair o' me." + + 3. Down then cam the auld Queen, + Goud[79] tassels tying her hair: + "O Marie, where's the bonny wee babe + That I heard greet[80] sae sair?" + + 4. "There was never a babe intill my room, + As little designs to be; + It was but a touch o' my sair side, + Came o'er my fair bodie." + + 5. "O Marie, put on your robes o' black, + Or else your robes o' brown, + For ye maun gang wi' me the night, + To see fair Edinbro town." + + 6. "I winna put on my robes o' black, + Nor yet my robes o' brown; + But I'll put on my robes o' white, + To shine through Edinbro town." + + 7. When she gaed up the Cannogate, + She laugh'd loud laughters three; + But when she cam down the Cannogate + The tear blinded her ee. + + 8. When she gaed up the Parliament stair, + The heel cam aff her shee[81]; + And lang or she cam down again + She was condemn'd to dee. + + 9. When she cam down the Cannogate, + The Cannogate sae free, + Many a ladie look'd o'er her window, + Weeping for this ladie. + + 10. "Make never meen[82] for me," she says, + "Make never meen for me; + Seek never grace frae a graceless face, + For that ye'll never see." + + 11. "Bring me a bottle of wine," she says, + "The best that e'er ye hae, + That I may drink to my weil-wishers, + And they may drink to me." + + 12. "And here's to the jolly sailor lad + That sails upon the faem; + But let not my father nor mother get wit + But that I shall come again." + + 13. "And here's to the jolly sailor lad + That sails upon the sea; + But let not my father nor mother get wit + O' the death that I maun dee." + + 14. "Oh little did my mother think, + The day she cradled me, + What lands I was to travel through, + What death I was to dee." + + 15. "Oh little did my father think, + The day he held up[83] me, + What lands I was to travel through, + What death I was to dee." + + 16. "Last night I wash'd the Queen's feet, + And gently laid her down; + And a' the thanks I've gotten the nicht + To be hangd in Edinbro town!" + + 17. "Last nicht there was four Maries, + The nicht there'll be but three; + There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton, + And Marie Carmichael, and me." + + [Footnote 79: Gold.] + + [Footnote 80: Weep.] + + [Footnote 81: Shoe.] + + [Footnote 82: Moan.] + + [Footnote 83: Held up, lifted up, recognized as his lawful + child,--a world-wide and ancient ceremony.] + + + BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL + + 1. High upon Highlands, + and low upon Tay, + Bonnie George Campbell + rade out on a day. + + 2. Saddled and bridled + and gallant rade he; + Hame cam his guid horse, + but never cam he. + + 3. Out cam his auld mither + greeting fu' sair, + And out cam his bonnie bride + riving her hair. + + 4. Saddled and bridled + and booted rade he; + Toom[84] hame cam the saddle, + but never came he. + + 5. "My meadow lies green, + and my corn is unshorn, + My barn is to build, + and my babe is unborn." + + 6. Saddled and bridled + and booted rade he; + Toom hame cam the saddle, + but never cam he. + + [Footnote 84: Empty.] + + + BESSIE BELL AND MARY GRAY[85] + + 1. O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, + They war twa bonnie lasses! + They biggit[86] a bower on yon burn-brae[87], + And theekit[88] it oer wi rashes. + + 2. They theekit it oer wi' rashes green, + They theekit it oer wi' heather: + But the pest cam frae the burrows-town, + And slew them baith thegither. + + 3. They thought to lie in Methven kirk-yard + Amang their noble kin; + But they maun lye in Stronach haugh, + To biek forenent the sin[89]. + + 4. And Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, + They war twa bonnie lasses; + They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae, + And theekit it oer wi' rashes. + + + THE THREE RAVENS[90] + + 1. There were three ravens sat on a tree, + Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe[91], + There were three ravens sat on a tree, With a downe. + There were three ravens sat on a tree, + They were as blacke as they might be. + With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe. + + 2. The one of them said to his mate, + "Where shall we our breakfast take?" + + 3. "Downe in yonder greene field + There lies a knight slain under his shield." + + 4. His hounds they lie down at his feete, + So well they can their master keepe[92]. + + 5. His haukes they flie so eagerly, + There's no fowle dare him come nie. + + 6. Downe there comes a fallow doe, + As great with young as she might goe. + + 7. She lift up his bloudy head, + And kist his wounds that were so red. + + 8. She got him up upon her backe, + And carried him to earthen lake[93]. + + 9. She buried him before the prime, + She was dead herselfe ere even-song time. + + 10. God send every gentleman + Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman[94]. + + [Footnote 85: Founded on an actual event of the plague, near + Perth, in 1645. See the interesting account in Professor + Child's 'Ballads,' Part VII, p. 75f.] + + [Footnote 86: Built.] + + [Footnote 87: A hill sloping down to a brook.] + + [Footnote 88: Thatched.] + + [Footnote 89: To bake in the rays of the sun.] + + [Footnote 90: The counterpart, or perhaps parody, of this + ballad, called 'The Twa Corbies,' is better known than the + exquisite original.] + + [Footnote 91: The refrain, or burden, differs in another + version of the ballad.] + + [Footnote 92: Guard.] + + [Footnote 93: Shroud of earth, burial.] + + [Footnote 94: Sweetheart, darling, literally 'dear-one' + (liefman). The word had originally no offensive meaning.] + + + LORD RANDAL + + 1. Where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son? + O where hae ye been, my handsome young man? + "I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + + 2. "Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? + Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?" + "I din'd wi' my true-love; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + + 3. "What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? + What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?" + "I gat eels boiled in broo[95]; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + + 4. "What became o' your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son? + What became' o' your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?" + "O they swell'd and they died; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + + 5. "O I fear you are poison'd, Lord Randal, my son! + O I fear you are poison'd, my handsome young man!" + "O yes! I'm poison'd; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down[96]." + + [Footnote 95: Broth.] + + [Footnote 96: Frogs, toads, snakes, and the like were often + served for fish, and of course were supposed to act as a + poison. One variant has a verse to elaborate this:-- + + "Where gat she those eels, Lord Randal, my son? + Where gat she those eels, my handsome young man?" + "'Neath the bush o' brown bracken; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + ] + + + EDWARD[97] + + 1. "Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid, + Edward, Edward, + Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid, + And why sae sad gang yee O?" + "O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, + Mither, mither, + O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, + And I had nae mair hot hee O." + + 2. "Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, + Edward, Edward, + Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, + My deir son I tell thee O." + "O I hae killed my reid-roan steid, + Mither, mither, + O I hae killed my reid-roan steid, + That erst was sae fair and frie O." + + 3. "Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, + Edward, Edward, + Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, + Sum other dule ye drie O[98]." + "O I hae killed my fadir deir, + Mither, mither, + O I hae killed my fadir deir, + Alas, and wae is mee O!" + + 4. "And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that, + Edward, Edward, + And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that? + My deir son, now tell me O." + "I'll set my feit in yonder boat, + Mither, mither, + I'll set my feit in yonder boat, + And I'll fare over the sea O." + + 5. "And what wul ye doe wi' your towers and your ha', + Edward, Edward, + And what wul ye doe wi' your towers and your ha', + That were sae fair to see O?" + "I'll let them stand till they doun fa', + Mither, mither, + I'll let them stand till they doun fa', + For here nevir mair maun I bee O." + + 6. "And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, + Edward, Edward, + And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, + When ye gang over the sea O?" + "The warldis room; let them beg thrae life, + Mither, mither, + The warldis room; let them beg thrae life, + For them never mair wul I see O." + + 7. "And what wul ye leive to your ain mither dear, + Edward, Edward, + And what will ye leive to your ain mither dear? + My dear son, now tell me O." + "The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, + Mither, mither, + The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, + Sic counsels ye gave to me O." + + [Footnote 97: One of the finest of our ballads. It was sent + from Scotland to Percy by David Dalrymple.] + + [Footnote 98: You suffer some other sorrow.] + + + THE TWA BROTHERS + + 1. There were twa brethren in the north, + They went to the school thegither; + The one unto the other said, + "Will you try a warsle[99] afore?" + + 2. They warsled up, they warsled down, + Till Sir John fell to the ground, + And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch, + Gied him a deadlie wound. + + 3. "Oh brither dear, take me on your back, + Carry me to yon burn clear, + And wash the blood from off my wound, + And it will bleed nae mair." + + 4. He took him up upon his back, + Carried him to yon burn clear, + And washed the blood from off his wound, + But aye it bled the mair. + + 5. "Oh brither dear, take me on your back, + Carry me to yon kirk-yard, + And dig a grave baith wide and deep. + And lay my body there." + + 6. He's taen him up upon his back, + Carried him to yon kirk-yard, + And dug a grave baith deep and wide, + And laid his body there. + + 7. "But what will I say to my father dear, + Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar's John?" + "Oh say that he's to England gone, + To buy him a cask of wine." + + 8. "And what will I say to my mother dear, + Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?" + "Oh say that he's to England gone, + To buy her a new silk gown." + + 9. "And what will I say to my sister dear, + Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?" + "Oh say that he's to England gone, + To buy her a wedding ring." + + 10. "But what will I say to her you loe[100] dear, + Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?" + "Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair, + And home again will never come." + + [Footnote 99: Wrestle.] + + [Footnote 100: Love.] + + + BABYLON; OR THE BONNIE BANKS O' FORDIE + + 1. There were three ladies lived in a bower, + Eh vow bonnie, + And they went out to pull a flower + On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. + + 2. They hadna pu'ed a flower but ane, + When up started to them a banisht man. + + 3. He's ta'en the first sister by her hand, + And he's turned her round and made her stand. + + 4. "It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, + Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?" + + 5. "It's I'll not be a rank robber's wife, + But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife!" + + 6. He's killed this may, and he's laid her by, + For to bear the red rose company. + + 7. He's taken the second ane by the hand, + And he's turned her round and made her stand. + + 8. "It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, + Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?" + + 9. "I'll not be a rank robber's wife, + But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife." + + 10. He's killed this may, and he's laid her by, + For to bear the red rose company. + + 11. He's taken the youngest ane by the hand, + And he's turned her round and made her stand. + + 12. Says, "Will ye be a rank robber's wife, + Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?" + + 13. "I'll not be a rank robber's wife, + Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife." + + 14. "For I hae a brother in this wood, + And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee." + + 15. "What's thy brother's name? Come tell to me." + "My brother's name is Baby Lon." + + 16. "O sister, sister, what have I done! + O have I done this ill to thee!" + + 17. "O since I've done this evil deed, + Good sall never be seen o' me." + + 18. He's taken out his wee pen-knife, + And he's twyned[101] himsel o' his own sweet life. + + [Footnote 101: Parted, deprived.] + + + CHILDE MAURICE[102] + + 1. Childe Maurice hunted i' the silver wood, + He hunted it round about, + And noebodye that he found therein, + Nor none there was without. + + 2. He says, "Come hither, thou little foot-page, + That runneth lowlye by my knee, + For thou shalt goe to John Steward's wife + And pray her speake with me." + + 3. ".... + .... + I, and greete thou doe that ladye well, + Ever soe well fro me." + + 4. "And, as it falls, as many times + As knots beene knit on a kell[103], + Or marchant men gone to leeve London + Either to buy ware or sell." + + 5. "And, as it falles, as many times + As any hart can thinke, + Or schoole-masters are in any schoole-house + Writing with pen and inke: + For if I might, as well as she may, + This night I would with her speake." + + 6. "And heere I send her a mantle of greene, + As greene as any grasse, + And bid her come to the silver wood, + To hunt with Child Maurice." + + 7. "And there I send her a ring of gold, + A ring of precious stone, + And bid her come to the silver wood, + Let[104] for no kind of man." + + 8. One while this little boy he yode[105], + Another while he ran, + Until he came to John Steward's hall, + I-wis[106] he never blan[107]. + + 9. And of nurture the child had good, + He ran up hall and bower free, + And when he came to this ladye faire, + Sayes, "God you save and see[108]!" + + 10. "I am come from Child Maurice, + A message unto thee; + And Child Maurice, he greetes you well, + And ever soe well from me." + + 11. "And as it falls, as oftentimes + As knots beene knit on a kell, + Or marchant men gone to leeve London + Either for to buy ware or sell." + + 12. "And as oftentimes he greetes you well + As any hart can thinke, + Or schoolemasters are in any schoole, + Wryting with pen and inke." + + 13. "And heere he sends a mantle of greene[109], + As greene as any grasse, + And he bids you come to the silver wood, + To hunt with Child Maurice." + + 14. "And heere he sends you a ring of gold, + A ring of the precious stone; + He prayes you to come to the silver wood, + Let for no kind of man." + + 15. "Now peace, now peace, thou little foot-page, + For Christes sake, I pray thee! + For if my lord heare one of these words, + Thou must be hanged hye!" + + 16. John Steward stood under the castle wall, + And he wrote the words everye one, + .... + .... + + 17. And he called upon his hors-keeper, + "Make ready you my steede!" + I, and soe he did to his chamberlaine, + "Make ready thou my weede[110]!" + + 18. And he cast a lease[111] upon his backe, + And he rode to the silver wood, + And there he sought all about, + About the silver wood. + + 19. And there he found him Child Maurice + Sitting upon a blocke, + With a silver combe in his hand, + Kembing his yellow lockes. + .... + + 20. But then stood up him Child Maurice, + And sayd these words trulye: + "I doe not know your ladye," he said, + "If that I doe her see." + + 21. He sayes, "How now, how now, Child Maurice? + Alacke, how may this be? + For thou hast sent her love-tokens, + More now then two or three;" + + 22. "For thou hast sent her a mantle of greene, + As greene as any grasse, + And bade her come to the silver woode + To hunt with Child Maurice." + + 23. "And thou hast sent her a ring of gold, + A ring of precyous stone, + And bade her come to the silver wood, + Let for no kind of man." + + 24. "And by my faith, now, Child Maurice, + The tone[112] of us shall dye!" + "Now be my troth," sayd Child Maurice, + "And that shall not be I." + + 25. But he pulled forth a bright browne[113] sword, + And dryed it on the grasse, + And soe fast he smote at John Steward, + I-wisse he never did rest. + + 26. Then he[114] pulled forth his bright browne sword, + And dryed it on his sleeve, + And the first good stroke John Stewart stroke, + Child Maurice head he did cleeve. + + 27. And he pricked it on his sword's poynt, + Went singing there beside, + And he rode till he came to that ladye faire, + Whereas this ladye lyed[115]. + + 28. And sayes, "Dost thou know Child Maurice head, + If that thou dost it see? + And lap it soft, and kisse it oft, + For thou lovedst him better than me." + + 29. But when she looked on Child Maurice head, + She never spake words but three:-- + "I never beare no childe but one, + And you have slaine him trulye." + + 30. Sayes[116], "Wicked be my merrymen all, + I gave meate, drinke, and clothe! + But could they not have holden me + When I was in all that wrath!" + + 31. "For I have slaine one of the curteousest knights + That ever bestrode a steed, + So[117] have I done one of the fairest ladyes + That ever ware woman's weede!" + + [Footnote 102: It is worth while to quote Gray's praise of + this ballad:--"I have got the old Scotch ballad on which + 'Douglas' [the well-known tragedy by Home] was founded. It is + divine.... Aristotle's best rules are observed in a manner + which shows the author never had heard of Aristotle."--Letter + to Mason, in 'Works,' ed. Gosse, ii. 316.] + + [Footnote 103: That is, the page is to greet the lady as many + times as there are knots in nets for the hair (_kell_), or + merchants going to dear (_leeve_, lief) London, or thoughts + of the heart, or schoolmasters in all schoolhouses. These + multiplied and comparative greetings are common in folk-lore, + particularly in German popular lyric.] + + [Footnote 104: _Let_ (desist) is an infinitive depending on + _bid_.] + + [Footnote 105: Went, walked.] + + [Footnote 106: Certainly.] + + [Footnote 107: Stopped.] + + [Footnote 108: Protect.] + + [Footnote 109: These, of course, are tokens of the Childe's + identity.] + + [Footnote 110: Clothes.] + + [Footnote 111: Leash.] + + [Footnote 112: That one = the one. _That_ is the old neuter + form of the definite article. Cf. _the tother_ for + _that other_.] + + [Footnote 113: _Brown_, used in this way, seems to mean + burnished, or glistening, and is found in Anglo-Saxon.] + + [Footnote 114: _He_, John Steward.] + + [Footnote 115: Lived.] + + [Footnote 116: John Steward.] + + [Footnote 117: Compare the similar swiftness of tragic + development in 'Babylon.']¸ + + + THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL + + 1. There lived a wife at Usher's Well, + And a wealthy wife was she; + She had three stout and stalwart sons, + And sent them o'er the sea. + + 2. They hadna been a week from her, + A week but barely ane, + When word came to the carlin[118] wife + That her three sons were gane. + + 3. They hadna been a week from her, + A week but barely three, + When word came to the carlin wife + That her sons she'd never see. + + 4. "I wish the wind may never cease, + Nor fashes[119] in the flood, + Till my three sons come hame to me, + In earthly flesh and blood." + + 5. It fell about the Martinmass[120], + When nights are lang and mirk, + The carlin wife's three sons came hame, + And their hats were o' the birk[121]. + + 6. It neither grew in syke[122] nor ditch, + Nor yet in ony sheugh[123], + But at the gates o' Paradise, + That birk grew fair eneugh. + + * * * * * + + 7. "Blow up the fire, my maidens! + Bring water from the well! + For a' my house shall feast this night, + Since my three sons are well." + + 8. And she has made to them a bed, + She's made it large and wide, + And she's ta'en her mantle her about, + Sat down at the bed-side. + + * * * * * + + 9. Up then crew the red, red cock[124], + And up and crew the gray; + The eldest to the youngest said, + "'Tis time we were away." + + 10. The cock he hadna craw'd but once, + And clapp'd his wing at a', + When the youngest to the eldest said, + "Brother, we must awa'." + + 11. "The cock doth craw, the day doth daw. + The channerin[125] worm doth chide; + Gin we be mist out o' our place, + A sair pain we maun bide." + + 12. "Fare ye weel, my mother dear! + Fareweel to barn and byre! + And fare ye weel, the bonny lass + That kindles my mother's fire!" + + [Footnote 118: Old woman.] + + [Footnote 119: Lockhart's clever emendation for the _fishes_ + of the Ms. _Fashes_ = disturbances, storms.] + + [Footnote 120: November 11th. Another version gives the time + as "the hallow days of Yule."] + + [Footnote 121: Birch.] + + [Footnote 122: Marsh.] + + [Footnote 123: Furrow, ditch.] + + [Footnote 124: In folk-lore, the break of day is announced to + demons and ghosts by three cocks,--usually a white, a red, + and a black; but the colors, and even the numbers, vary. At + the third crow, the ghosts must vanish. This applies to + guilty and innocent alike; of course, the sons are "spirits + of health."] + + [Footnote 125: Fretting.] + + + SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST + + 1. Whan bells war rung, an mass was sung, + A wat[126] a' man to bed were gone, + Clark Sanders came to Margret's window, + With mony a sad sigh and groan. + + 2. "Are ye sleeping, Margret," he says, + "Or are ye waking, presentlie? + Give me my faith and trouth again, + A wat, true-love, I gied to thee." + + 3. "Your faith and trouth ye's never get, + Nor our true love shall never twin[127], + Till ye come with me in my bower, + And kiss me both cheek and chin." + + 4. "My mouth it is full cold, Margret, + It has the smell now of the ground; + And if I kiss thy comely mouth, + Thy life-days will not be long." + + 5. "Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf[128], + I wat the wild fule boded day; + Give me my faith and trouth again, + And let me fare me on my way." + + 6. "Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get, + Nor our true love shall never twin, + Till ye tell me what comes of women + A wat that dy's in strong traveling[129]." + + 7. "Their beds are made in the heavens high, + Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee, + Well set about wi' gilly-flowers, + A wat sweet company for to see." + + 8. "O cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf, + A wat the wild fule boded day; + The salms of Heaven will be sung, + And ere now I'll be missed away." + + 9. Up she has taen a bright long wand, + And she has straked her trouth thereon[130]; + She has given it him out at the shot-window, + Wi mony a sad sigh and heavy groan. + + 10. "I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret, + And I thank you heartilie; + Gin ever the dead come for the quick, + Be sure, Margret, I'll come again for thee." + + 11. It's hose and shoon an gound[131] alane + She clame the wall and followed him, + Until she came to a green forest, + On this she lost the sight of him. + + 12. "Is there any room at your head, Sanders? + Is there any room at your feet? + Or any room at your twa sides? + Where fain, fain woud I sleep." + + 13. "There is nae room at my head, Margret, + There is nae room at my feet; + There is room at my twa sides, + For ladys for to sleep." + + 14. "Cold meal[132] is my covering owre, + But an[133] my winding sheet: + My bed it is full low, I say, + Among hungry worms I sleep." + + 15. "Cold meal is my covering owre, + But an my winding sheet: + The dew it falls nae sooner down + Than ay it is full weet." + + [Footnote 126: "I wot," "I know," = truly, in sooth. The same + in 5-2, 6-4, 7-4, 8-2.] + + [Footnote 127: Part, separate. She does not yet know he is + dead.] + + [Footnote 128: Probably the distorted name of a town; _a_ = + in. "Cocks are crowing in merry--, and the wild-fowl announce + the dawn."] + + [Footnote 129: That die in childbirth.] + + [Footnote 130: Margaret thus gives him back his troth-plight + by "stroking" it upon the wand, much as savages and peasants + believe they can rid themselves of a disease by rubbing the + affected part with a stick or pebble and flinging the latter + into the road.] + + [Footnote 131: Gown.] + + [Footnote 132: Mold, earth.] + + [Footnote 133: But and==also.] + + + + +HONORÉ DE BALZAC + +(1799-1850) + +BY WILLIAM P. TRENT + + +Honoré de Balzac, by common consent the greatest of French novelists and +to many of his admirers the greatest of all writers of prose fiction, +was born at Tours, May 16th, 1799. Neither his family nor his place of +birth counts for much in his artistic development; but his sister Laure, +afterwards Madame Surville,--to whom we owe a charming sketch of her +brother and many of his most delightful letters,--made him her hero +through life, and gave him a sympathy that was better than any merely +literary environment. He was a sensitive child, little comprehended by +his parents or teachers, which probably accounts for the fact that few +writers have so well described the feelings of children so situated [See +'Le lys dans la vallée' (The Lily in the Valley) and 'Louis Lambert']. +He was not a good student, but undermined his health by desultory though +enormous reading and by writing a precocious Treatise on the Will, which +an irate master burned and the future novelist afterwards naïvely +deplored. When brought home to recuperate, he turned from books to +nature, and the effects of the beautiful landscape of Touraine upon his +imagination are to be found throughout his writings, in passages of +description worthy of a nature-worshiper like Senancour himself. About +this time a vague desire for fame seems to have seized him,--a desire +destined to grow into an almost morbid passion; and it was a kindly +Providence that soon after (1814) led his family to quit the stagnant +provinces for that nursery of ambition, Paris. Here he studied under new +masters, heard lectures at the Sorbonne, read in the libraries, and +finally, at the desire of his practical father, took a three years' +course in law. + +[Illustration: HON. DE BALZAC.] + +He was now at the parting of the ways, and he chose the one nearest his +heart. After much discussion, it was settled that he should not be +obliged to return to the provinces with his family, or to enter upon the +regular practice of law, but that he might try his luck as a writer on +an allowance purposely fixed low enough to test his constancy and +endurance. Two years was the period of probation allotted, during which +time Balzac read still more widely and walked the streets studying the +characters he met, all the while endeavoring to grind out verses for a +tragedy on Cromwell. This, when completed, was promptly and justly +damned by his family, and he was temporarily forced to retire from +Paris. He did not give up his aspirations, however, and before long he +was back in his attic, this time supporting himself by his pen. Novels, +not tragedies, were what the public most wanted, so he labored +indefatigably to supply their needs and his own necessities; not +relinquishing, however, the hope that he might some day watch the +performance of one of his own plays. His perseverance was destined to be +rewarded, for he lived to write five dramas which fill a volume of his +collected works; but only one, the posthumous comedy 'Mercadet', was +even fairly successful. Yet that Balzac had dramatic genius his matured +novels abundantly prove. + +The ten romances, however, that he wrote for cheap booksellers between +1822 and 1829 displayed so little genius of any sort that he was +afterwards unwilling to cover their deficiencies with his great name. +They have been collected as youthful works ('Oeuvres de jeunesse'), and +are useful to a complete understanding of the evolution of their +author's genius; but they are rarely read even by his most devoted +admirers. They served, however, to enable him to get through his long +and heart-rending period of apprenticeship, and they taught him how to +express himself; for this born novelist was not a born writer and had to +labor painfully to acquire a style which only at rare moments quite +fitted itself to the subject he had in hand. + +Much more interesting than these early sensational romances were the +letters he wrote to his sister Laure, in which he grew eloquent over his +ambition and gave himself needed practice in describing the characters +with whom he came in contact. But he had not the means to wait quietly +and ripen, so he embarked in a publishing business which brought him +into debt. Then, to make up his losses, he became partner in a printing +enterprise which failed in 1827, leaving him still more embarrassed +financially, but endowed with a fund of experience which he turned to +rich account as a novelist. Henceforth the sordid world of debt, +bankruptcy, usury, and speculation had no mystery for him, and he laid +it bare in novel after novel, utilizing also the knowledge he had gained +of the law, and even pressing into service the technicalities of the +printing office [See 'Illusions perdues' (Lost Illusions)]. But now at +the age of twenty-eight he had over 100,000 francs to pay, and had +written nothing better than some cheap stories; the task of wiping out +his debts by his writings seemed therefore a more hopeless one than +Scott's. Nothing daunted, however, he set to work, and the year that +followed his second failure in business saw the composition of the first +novel he was willing to acknowledge, 'Les Chouans.' This romance of +Brittany in 1799 deserved the praise it received from press and public, +in spite of its badly jointed plot and overdrawn characters. It still +appeals to many readers, and is important to the 'Comédie humaine' as +being the only novel of the "Military Scenes.". The 'Physiology of +Marriage' followed quickly (1829-30), and despite a certain pruriency of +imagination, displayed considerable powers of analysis, powers destined +shortly to distinguish a story which ranks high among its author's +works, 'La Maison du chat-qui-pelote' (1830). This delightful novelette, +the queer title of which is nearly equivalent to 'At the Sign of the Cat +and the Racket,' showed in its treatment of the heroine's unhappy +passion the intuition and penetration of the born psychologist, and in +its admirable description of bourgeois life the pictorial genius of the +genuine realist. In other words the youthful romancer was merged once +for all in the matured novelist. The years of waiting and observation +had done their work, and along the streets of Paris now walked the most +profound analyst of human character that had scrutinized society since +the days when William Shakespeare, fresh from Stratford, trod the +streets and lanes of Elizabethan London. + +The year 1830 marks the beginning not merely of Balzac's success as the +greatest of modern realists, but also of his marvelous literary +activity. Novel after novel is begun before its predecessor is finished; +short stories of almost perfect workmanship are completed; sketches are +dashed off that will one day find their appropriate place in larger +compositions, as yet existing only in the brain of the master. Nor is it +merely a question of individual works: novels and stories are to form +different series,--'Scenes from Private Life,' 'Philosophical Novels and +Tales,'--which are themselves destined to merge into 'Studies of Manners +in the Nineteenth Century,' and finally into the 'Comédie humaine' +itself. Yet it was more than a swarm of stories that was buzzing in his +head; it was a swarm of individuals often more truly alive to him than +the friends with whom he loved to converse about them. And just because +he knew these people of his brain, just because he entered into the +least details of their daily lives, Balzac was destined to become much +more than a mere philosopher or student of society; to wit, a creator of +characters, endowed with that "absolute dramatic vision" which +distinguishes Homer and Shakespeare and Chaucer. But because he was also +something of a philosopher and student of sociology, he conceived the +stupendous idea of linking these characters with one another and with +their several environments, in order that he might make himself not +merely the historian but also the creator of an entire society. In other +words, conservative though he was, Balzac had the audacity to range +himself by the side of Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, and to espouse the cause +of evolution even in its infancy. The great ideas of the mutability of +species and of the influence of environment and heredity were, he +thought, as applicable to sociology as to zoölogy, and as applicable to +fiction as to either. So he meditated the 'Comédie humaine' for several +years before he announced it in 1842, and from being almost the rival of +Saint-Hilaire he became almost the anticipator of Darwin. + +But this idea of evolution was itself due to the evolution of his +genius, to which many various elements contributed: his friendships and +enmities with contemporary authors, his intimacies with women of +refinement and fashion, his business struggles with creditors and +publishers, his frequent journeys to the provinces and foreign +countries; and finally his grandiose schemes to surround himself with +luxury and the paraphernalia of power, not so much for his own sake as +for the sake of her whose least smile was a delight and an inspiration. +About each of these topics an interesting chapter might be written, but +here a few words must suffice. + +After his position as an author was more or less assured, Balzac's +relations with the leaders of his craft--such as Victor Hugo, Théophile +Gautier, and George Sand--were on the whole cordial. He had trouble with +Sainte-Beuve, however, and often felt that his brother-writers begrudged +his success. His constant attacks on contemporary journalists, and his +egotistic and erratic manners naturally prejudiced the critics, so that +even the marvelous romance entitled 'La Peau de chagrin' (The Magic +Skin: 1831),--a work of superb genius,--speedily followed as it was by +'Eugénie Grandet' and 'Le Père Goriot,' did not win him cordial +recognition. One or two of his friendships, however, gave him a +knowledge of higher social circles than he was by birth entitled to, a +fact which should be remembered in face of the charge that he did not +know high life, although it is of course true that a writer like Balzac, +possessing the intuition of genius, need not frequent salons or live in +hovels in order to describe them with absolute verisimilitude. + +With regard to Balzac's debts, the fact should be noted that he might +have paid them off more easily and speedily had he been more prudent. He +cut into the profits of his books by the costly changes he was always +making in his proof-sheets,--changes which the artist felt to be +necessary, but against which the publishers naturally protested. In +reality he wrote his books on his proof-sheets, for he would cut and +hack the original version and make new insertions until he drove his +printers wild. Indeed, composition never became easy to him, although +under a sudden inspiration he could sometimes dash off page after page +while other men slept. He had, too, his affectations; he must even have +a special and peculiar garb in which to write. All these eccentricities +and his outside distractions and ambitions, as well as his noble and +pathetic love affair, entered into the warp and woof of his work with +effects that can easily be detected by the careful student, who should +remember, however, that the master's foibles and peculiarities never for +one moment set him outside the small circle of the men of supreme +genius. He belongs to them by virtue of his tremendous grasp of life in +its totality, his superhuman force of execution and the inevitableness +of his art at its best. + +The decade from 1830 to 1840 is the most prolific period of Balzac's +genius in the creation of individual works; that from 1840 to 1850 is +his great period of philosophical co-ordination and arrangement. In the +first he hewed out materials for his house; in the second he put them +together. This statement is of course relatively true only, for we owe +to the second decade three of his greatest masterpieces: 'Splendeurs et +misères des courtisanes,' and 'La Cousine Bette' and 'Le Cousin Pons,' +collectively known as 'Les Parents pauvres' (Poor Relations). And what a +period of masterful literary activity the first decade presents! For the +year 1830 alone the Vicomte de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul gives seventy-one +entries, many of slight importance, but some familiar to every student +of modern literature, such as 'El Verdugo,' 'La Maison du +chat-qui-pelote,' 'Gobseck,' 'Adieu,' 'Une Passion dans le desert' (A +Passion in the Desert), 'Un Épisode sous la Terreur' (An Episode of the +Terror). For 1831 there are seventy-six entries, among them such +masterpieces as 'Le Réequisitionnaire' (The Conscript), 'Les Proscrits' +(The Outlaws), 'La Peau de chagrin,' and 'Jésus-Christ en Flandre.' In +1832 the number of entries falls to thirty-six, but among them are 'Le +Colonel Chabert,' 'Le Curé de Tours' (The Priest of Tours), 'La Grande +Bretèche,' 'Louis Lambert,' and 'Les Marana.' After this year there are +fewer short stories. In 1833 we have 'Le Médecin de campagne' (The +Country Doctor), and 'Eugénie Grandet,' with parts of the 'Histoire des +treize' (Story of the Thirteen), and of the 'Contes drolatiques' (Droll +Tales). The next year gives us 'La Recherche de l'absolu' (Search for +the Absolute) and 'Le Père Goriot' (Old Goriot) and during the next six +there were no less than a dozen masterpieces. Such a decade of +accomplishment is little short of miraculous, and the work was done +under stress of anxieties that would have crushed any normal man. + +But anxieties and labors were lightened by a friendship which was an +inspiration long before it ripened into love, and were rendered bearable +both by Balzac's confidence in himself and by his ever nearer view of +the goal he had set himself. The task before him was as stupendous as +that which Comte had undertaken, and required not merely the planning +and writing of new works but the utilization of all that he had +previously written. Untiring labor had to be devoted to this +manipulation of old material, for practically the great output of the +five years 1829-1834 was to be co-ordinated internally, story being +brought into relation with story and character with character. This +meant the creation and management of an immense number of personages, +the careful investigation of the various localities which served for +environments, and the profound study of complicated social and political +problems. No wonder, then, that the second decade of his maturity shows +a falling off in abundance, though not in intensity of creative power; +and that the gradual breaking down of his health, under the strain of +his ceaseless efforts and of his abnormal habits of life, made itself +more and more felt in the years that followed the great preface which in +1842 set forth the splendid design of the 'Comédie humaine.' + +This preface, one of the most important documents in literary history, +must be carefully studied by all who would comprehend Balzac in his +entirety. It cannot be too often repeated that Balzac's scientific and +historical aspirations are important only in so far as they caused him +to take a great step forward in the development of his art. The nearer +the artist comes to reproducing for us life in its totality, the higher +the rank we assign him among his fellows. Tried by this canon, Balzac is +supreme. His interweaving of characters and events through a series of +volumes gives a verisimilitude to his work unrivaled in prose fiction, +and paralleled only in the work of the world-poets. In other words, his +use of co-ordination upon a vast scale makes up for his lack of delicacy +and sureness of touch, as compared with what Shakespeare and Homer and +Chaucer have taught us to look for. Hence he is with them even if not +of them. + +This great claim can be made for the Balzac of the 'Comédie humaine' +only; it could not be made for the Balzac of any one masterpiece like +'Le Père Goriot,' or even for the Balzac of all the masterpieces taken +in lump and without co-ordination. Balzac by co-ordination has in spite +of his limitations given us a world, just as Shakespeare and Homer have +done; and so Taine was profoundly right when he put him in the same +category with the greatest of all writers. When, however, he added St. +Simon to Shakespeare, and proclaimed that with them Balzac was the +greatest storehouse of documents that we have on human nature, he was +guilty not merely of confounding _genres_ of art, but also of laying +stress on the philosophic rather than on the artistic side of fiction. +Balzac does make himself a great storehouse of documents on human +nature, but he also does something far more important, he sets before us +a world of living men and women. + +To have brought this world into existence, to have given it order in the +midst of complexity, and that in spite of the fact that death overtook +him before he could complete his work, would have been sufficient to +occupy a decade of any other man's life; but he, though harassed with +illness and with hopes of love and ambition deferred, was strong enough +to do more. The year 1840 saw the appearance of 'Pierrette,' and the +establishment of the ill-fated 'Revue parisienne.' The following year +saw 'Ursule Mirouet,' and until 1848 the stream of great works is +practically unbroken. The 'Splendeurs et misères' and the 'Parents +pauvres' have been named already, but to these must be added 'Un Ménage +de garçon' (A Bachelor's House-keeping), 'Modeste Mignon,' and 'Les +Paysans' (The Peasants). The three following years added nothing to his +work and closed his life, but they brought him his crowning happiness. +On March 14th, 1850, he was married to Mme. Hanska, at Berditchef; on +August 18th, 1850, he died at Paris. + +Madame Evelina de Hanska came into Balzac's life about 1833, just after +he had shaken off the unfortunate influence of the Duchesse de Castries. +The young Polish countess was much impressed, we are told, by reading +the 'Scènes de la vie privée' (Scenes of Private Life), and was somewhat +perplexed and worried by Balzac's apparent change of method in 'La Peau +de chagrin.' She wrote to him over the signature "L'Étrangère" (A +Foreigner), and he answered in a series of letters recently published in +the Revue de Paris. Not long after the opening of this correspondence +the two met, and a firm friendship was cemented between them. The lady +was about thirty, and married to a Russian gentleman of large fortune, +to whom she had given an only daughter. She was in the habit of +traveling about Europe to carry on this daughter's education, and Balzac +made it his pleasure and duty to see her whenever he could, sometimes +journeying as far as Vienna. In the interim he would write her letters +which possess great charm and importance to the student of his life. The +husband made no objection to the intimacy, trusting both to his wife and +to Balzac; but for some time before the death of the aged nobleman, +Balzac seems to have distrusted himself and to have held slightly aloof +from the woman whom he was destined finally to love with all the fervor +of his nature. Madame Hanska became free in the winter of 1842-3, and +the next summer Balzac visited St. Petersburg to see her. His love soon +became an absorbing passion, but consideration for her daughter's future +withheld the lady's consent to a betrothal till 1846. It was a period of +weary waiting, in which our sympathies are all on one side; for if ever +a man deserved to be happy in a woman's love, it was Balzac. His +happiness came, but almost too late to be enjoyed. His last two years, +which he spent in Poland with Madame de Hanska, were oppressed by +illness, and he returned to his beloved Paris only to die. The struggle +of thirty years was over, and although his immense genius was not yet +fully recognized, his greatest contemporary, Victor Hugo, was +magnanimous enough to exclaim on hearing that he was dying, "Europe is +on the point of losing a great mind." Balzac's disciples feel that +Europe really lost its greatest writer since Shakespeare. + +In the definitive edition of Balzac's writings in twenty-four volumes, +seventeen are occupied by the various divisions of the 'Comédie +humaine.' The plays take up one volume; and the correspondence, not +including of course the letters to "L'Étrangère," another; the 'Contes +drolatiques' make still another; and finally we have four volumes filled +with sketches, tales, reviews, and historical and political articles +left uncollected by their author. + +The 'Contes' are thirty in number, divided into "dixains," each with its +appropriate prologue and epilogue. They purport to have been collected +in the abbeys of Touraine, and set forth by the Sieur de Balzac for the +delight of Pantagruelists and none others. Not merely the spirit but the +very language of Rabelais is caught with remarkable verve and fidelity, +so that from the point of view of style Balzac has never done better +work. A book which holds by Rabelais on the one hand and by the Queen of +Navarre on the other is not likely, however, to appeal to that part of +the English and American reading public that expurgates its Chaucer, and +blushes at the mention of Fielding and Smollett. Such readers will do +well to avoid the 'Contes drolatiques;' although, like 'Don Juan,' they +contain a great deal of what was best in their author, of his frank, +ebullient, sensuous nature, lighted up here at least by a genuine if +scarcely delicate humor. Of direct suggestion of vice Balzac was, +naturally, as incapable as he was of smug puritanism; but it must be +confessed that as a _raconteur_ his proper audience, now that the +monastic orders have passed away, would be a group of middle-aged +club-men. + +The 'Comédie humaine' is divided into three main sections: first and +most important, the 'Études de moeurs' (Studies of Manners), second the +'Études philosophiques' (Philosophic Studies), and finally the 'Études +analytiques' (Analytic Studies). These divisions, as M. Barrière points +out in his 'L'Oeuvre de H. de Balzac' (The Work of Balzac), were +intended to bear to one another the relations that moral science, +psychology, and metaphysics do to one another with regard to the life of +man, whether as an individual or as a member of society. No single +division was left complete at the author's death; but enough was +finished and put together to give us the sense of moving in a living, +breathing world, no matter where we make our entry. This, as we have +insisted, is the real secret of his greatness. To think, for example, +that the importance of 'Séraphita' lies in the fact that it gives +Balzac's view of Swedenborgianism, or that the importance of 'Louis +Lambert' lies in its author's queer theories about the human will, is +entirely to misapprehend his true position in the world of literature. +His mysticism, his psychology, his theories of economics, his +reactionary devotion to monarchy, and his idealization of the Church of +Rome, may or may not appeal to us, and have certainly nothing that is +eternal or inevitable about them; but in his knowledge of the human mind +and heart he is as inevitable and eternal as any writer has ever been, +save only Shakespeare and Homer. + +The 'Études de moeurs' were systematically divided by their author into +'Scenes of Private Life,' 'Scenes of Provincial Life,' 'Scenes of +Country Life,' 'Scenes of Parisian Life,' 'Scenes of Political Life,' +and 'Scenes of Military Life,'--the last three divisions representing +more or less exceptional phases of existence. The group relating to +Paris is by far the most important and powerful, but the provincial +stories show almost as fine workmanship, and furnish not a few of the +well-known masterpieces. Less interesting, though still important, are +the 'Scenes of Private Life,' which consist of twenty-four novels, +novelettes, and tales, under the following titles: 'Béatrix,' 'Albert +Savarus,' 'La Fausse maitresse' (The False Mistress), 'Le Message' (The +Message), 'La Grande Bretèche,' 'Étude de femme' (Study of Woman), +'Autre étude de femme' (Another Story of Woman), 'Madame Firmiani,' +'Modeste Mignon,' 'Un Début dans la vie' (An Entrance upon Life), +'Pierre Grassou,' 'Mémoires de deux jeunes mariées' (Recollections of a +Young Couple), 'La Maison du chat-qui-pelote,' 'Le Bal de Sceaux' (The +Ball of Sceaux), 'Le Contrat de mariage' (The Marriage Contract), 'La +Vendetta,' 'La Paix du ménage' (Household Peace), 'Une Double famille' +(A Double Family), 'Une Fille d'Éve' (A Daughter of Eve), 'Honorine,' +'La Femme abandonnée' (The Abandoned Wife), 'La Grenadière,' 'La Femme +de trente ans' (The Woman of Thirty). + +Of all these stories, hardly one shows genuine greatness except the +powerful tragic tale 'La Grande Bretèche,' which was subsequently +incorporated in 'Autre étude de femme,' This story of a jealous +husband's walling up his wife's lover in a closet of her chamber is as +dramatic a piece of writing as Balzac ever did, and is almost if not +quite as perfect a short story as any that has since been written in +France. 'La Maison du chat-qui-pelote' has been mentioned already on +account of its importance in the evolution of Balzac's realism, but +while a delightful novelette, it is hardly great, its charm coming +rather from its descriptions of bourgeois life than from the working out +of its central theme, the infelicity of a young wife married to an +unfaithful artist. 'Modeste Mignon' is interesting, and more romantic +than Balzac's later works were wont to be; but while it may be safely +recommended to the average novel-reader, few admirers of its author +would wish to have it taken as a sample of their master. 'Béatrix' is a +powerful story in its delineation of the weakness of the young Breton +nobleman, Calyste du Guénie. It derives a factitious interest from the +fact that George Sand is depicted in 'Camille Maupin,' the _nom de +plume_ of Mlle. des Touches, and perhaps Balzac himself in Claude +Vignon, the critic. Less factitious is the interest derived from +Balzac's admirable delineation of a doting mother and aunt, and from his +realistic handling of one of the cleverest of his ladies of light +reputation, Madame Schontz; his studies of such characters of the +_demi-monde_--especially of the wonderful Esther of the 'Splendeurs et +misères'--serving plainly, by the way, as a point of departure for Dumas +_fils_. Yet 'Béatrix' is an able rather than a truly great book, for it +neither elevates nor delights us. In fact, all the stories in this +series are interesting rather than truly great; but all display Balzac's +remarkable analytic powers. Love, false or true, is of course their main +theme; wrought out to a happy issue in 'La Bourse,' a charming tale, or +to a death of despair in 'La Grenadière' The childless young married +woman is contrasted with her more fortunate friend surrounded by little +ones ('Mémoires de deux jeunes mariées'), the heartless coquette flirts +once too often ('Le Bal de Sceaux'), the eligible young man is taken in +by a scheming mother ('Le Contrat du mariage'), the deserted husband +labors to win back his wife ('Honorine'), the tempted wife learns at +last the real nature of her peril ('Une Fille d'Éve'); in short, lovers +and mistresses, husbands and wives, make us participants of all the joys +and sorrows that form a miniature world within the four walls of +every house. + +The 'Scenes of Provincial Life' number only ten stories, but nearly all +of them are masterpieces. They are 'Eugénie Grandet,' 'Le Lys dans la +vallée,' 'Ursule Mirouet,' 'Pierrette,' 'Le Curé de Tours,' 'La +Rabouilleuse,' 'La Vielle fille' (The Old Maid), 'Le Cabinet des +antiques' (The Cabinet of Antiques), 'L'Illustre Gaudissart' (The +Illustrious Gaudissart), and 'La Muse du département' (The Departmental +Muse). Of these 'Eugénie Grandet' is of course easily first in interest, +pathos, and power. The character of old Grandet, the miserly father, is +presented to us with Shakespearean vividness, although Eugénie herself +has, less than the Shakespearean charm. Any lesser artist would have +made the tyrant himself and his yielding wife and daughters seem +caricatures rather than living people. It is only the Shakespeares and +Balzacs who are able to make their Shylocks and lagos, their Grandets +and Philippe Brideaus, monsters and human beings at one and the same +time. It is only the greater artists, too, who can bring out all the +pathos inherent in the subjection of two gentle women to a tyrant in +their own household. But it is Balzac the inimitable alone who can +portray fully the life of the provinces, its banality, its meanness, its +watchful selfishness, and yet save us through the perfection of his art +from the degradation which results from contact with low and sordid +life. The reader who rises unaffected from a perusal of 'Eugénie +Grandet' would be unmoved by the grief of Priam in the tent of Achilles, +or of Othello in the death-chamber of Desdemona. + +'Le Lys dans la vallée' has been pronounced by an able French critic to +be the worst novel he knows; but as a study of more or less ethereal and +slightly morbid love it is characterized by remarkable power. Its +heroine, Madame Mortsauf, tied to a nearly insane husband and pursued by +a sentimental lover, undergoes tortures of conscience through an +agonizing sense of half-failure in her duty. Balzac himself used to cite +her when he was charged with not being able to draw a pure woman; but he +has created nobler types. The other stories of the group are also +decidedly more interesting. The distress of the abbé Birotteau over his +landlady's treatment, and the intrigues of the abbé Troubert ('Le Curé +de Tours') absorb us as completely as the career of Caesar himself in +Mommsen's famous chapter. The woes of the little orphan subjected to the +tyranny of her selfish aunt and uncle ('Pierrette'), the struggles of +the rapacious heirs for the Mirouet fortune ('Ursule Mirouet,') a story +which gives us one of Balzac's purest women, treats interestingly of +mesmerism (and may be read without fear by the young), the siege of +Mlle. Cormon's mature affections by her two adroit suitors ('Une Vielle +fille'), the intrigues against the peace of the d'Esgrignons and the +sublime devotion to their interests of the notary Chesnel ('Le Cabinet +des antiques'), and finally the ignoble passions that fought themselves +out around the senile Jean Jacques Rouget, under the direction of the +diabolical ex-soldier Philippe Brideau ('La Rabouilleuse,' sometimes +entitled 'Un Ménage de Garcon'), form the absorbing central themes of a +group of novels--or rather stories, for few of them attain considerable +length--unrivaled in the annals of realistic fiction. + +The 'Scenes of Country Life,' comprising 'Les Paysans,' 'Le Médecin de +campagne,' and 'Le Curé de village' (The Village Priest), take high rank +among their author's works. Where Balzac might have been crudely +naturalistic, he has preferred to be either realistic as in the first +named admirable novel, or idealistic as in the two latter. Hence he has +created characters like the country physician, Doctor Benassis, almost +as great a boon to the world of readers as that philanthropist himself +was to the little village of his adoption. If Madame Graslin of 'Le +Curé de village' fails to reach the height of Benassis, her career has +at least a sensational interest which his lacked; and the country +curate, the good abbé Bonnet, surely makes up for her lack on the ideal +side. This story, by the way, is important for the light it throws on +the workings of the Roman Church among the common people; and the +description of Madame Graslin's death is one of Balzac's most effective +pieces of writing. + +We are now brought to the 'Parisian Scenes,' and with the exception of +'Eugénie Grandet,' to the best-known masterpieces. There are twenty +titles; but as two of these are collective in character, the number of +novels and stories amounts to twenty-four, as follows:--'Le Père +Goriot,' 'Illusions perdues,' 'Splendeurs et misères des courtisanes,' +'Les Secrets de la princesse de Cadignan' (The Secrets of the Princess +of Cadignan), 'Histoire des treize' [containing 'Ferragus,' 'La Duchesse +de Langeais,' and 'La Fille aux yeux d'or' (The Girl with the Golden +Eyes)], 'Sarrasine,' 'Le Colonel Chabert,' 'L'lnterdiction' (The +Interdiction), 'Les Parents pauvres' (Poor Relations, including 'La +Cousine Bette' and 'Le Cousin Pons'), 'La Messe de l'athée' (The +Atheist's Mass), 'Facino Cane,' 'Gobseck,' 'La Maison Nucingen,' 'Un +Prince de la Bohème' (A Prince of Bohemia), 'Esquisse d'homme +d'affaires' (Sketch of a Business man), 'Gaudissart II.' 'Les Comédiens +sans le savoir' (The Unconscious Humorists), 'Les Employés' (The +Employees), 'Histoire de César Birotteau,' and 'Les Petits bourgeois' +(Little Bourgeois). Of these twenty-four titles six belong to novels, +five of which are of great power, nine to novelettes and short stories +too admirable to be passed over without notice, eight to novelettes and +stories of interest and value which need not, however, detain us, and +one, 'Les Petits bourgeois', to a novel of much promise unfortunately +left incomplete. 'Les Secrets de la princesse de Cadignan' is remarkable +chiefly as a study of the blind passion that often overtakes a man of +letters. Daniel d'Arthez, the author, a fine character and a favorite +with Balzac, succumbs to the wiles of the Princess of Cadignan (formerly +the dashing and fascinating Duchesse de Maufrigneuse) and is happy in +his subjection. The 'Histoire des treize' contains three novelettes, +linked together through the fact that in each a band of thirteen young +men, sworn to assist one another in conquering society, play an +important part. This volume is the most frankly sensational of Balzac's +works. 'La Duchesse de Langeais' however, is more than sensational: it +gives perhaps Balzac's best description of the Faubourg St. Germain and +one of his ablest analyses of feminine character, while in the +description of General Montriveau's recognition of the Duchess in the +Spanish convent the novelist's dramatic power is seen at its highest. +'La Fille aux yeux d'or,' which concludes the volume devoted to the +mysterious brotherhood, may be considered, with 'Sarrasine,' one of the +dark closets of the great building known as the 'Comédie humaine.' Both +stories deal with unnatural passions, and the first is one of Balzac's +most effective compositions. For sheer voluptuousness of style there is +little in literature to parallel the description of the boudoir of the +uncanny heroine. Very different from these stories is 'Le Colonel +Chabert,' the record of the misfortunes of one of Napoleon's heroic +soldiers, who after untold hardships returns to France to find his wife +married a second time and determined to deny his existence. The law is +invoked, but the treachery of the wife induces the noble old man to put +an end to the proceedings, after which he sinks into an indigent and +pathetic senility. Balzac has never drawn a more heart-moving figure, +nor has he ever sounded more thoroughly the depths of human selfishness. +But the description of the battle of Eylau and of Chabert's sufferings +in retreat would alone suffice to make the story memorable. +'L'Interdiction' is the proper pendant to the history of this +unfortunate soldier. In it another husband, the Marquis d'Espard, +suffers from the selfishness of his wife, one of the worst characters in +the range of Balzac's fiction. That she may keep him from alienating his +property to discharge a moral obligation she endeavors to prove him +insane. The legal complications which ensue bring forward one of +Balzac's great figures, the judge of instruction, Popinot; but to +appreciate him the reader must go to the marvelous book itself. +'Gobseck' is a study of a Parisian usurer, almost worthy of a place +beside the description of old Grandet; while 'Les Employés' is a +realistic study of bureaucratic life, which, besides showing a wonderful +familiarity with the details of a world of which Balzac had little +personal experience, contains several admirably drawn characters and a +sufficient amount of incident. But it is time to leave these sketches +and novels in miniature, and to pass by the less important 'Scenes' of +this fascinating Parisian life, in order to consider in some detail the +five novels of consummate power. + +First of these in date of composition, and in popular estimation at +least among English readers, comes, 'Le Père Goriot.' It is certainly +trite to call the book a French "Lear," but the expression emphasizes +the supreme artistic power that could treat the _motif_ of one of +Shakespeare's plays in a manner that never forces a disadvantageous +comparison with the great tragedy. The retired vermicelli-maker is not +as grand a figure as the doting King of Britain, but he is as real. The +French daughters, Anastasie, Countess de Restaud, and Delphine, Baroness +de Nucingen, are not such types of savage wickedness as Regan and +Goneril, but they fit the nineteenth century as well as the British +princesses did their more barbarous day. Yet there is no Cordelia in +'Le Père Goriot,' for the pale Victorine Taillefer cannot fill the place +of that noblest of daughters. This is but to say that Balzac's bourgeois +tragedy lacks that element of the noble that every great poetic tragedy +must have. The self-immolation of old Goriot to the cold-hearted +ambitions of his daughters is not noble, but his parental passion +touches the infinite, and so proves the essential kinship of his creator +with the creator of Lear. This touch of the infinite, as in 'Eugénie +Grandet,' lifts the book up from the level of a merely masterly study of +characters or a merely powerful novel to that of the supreme +masterpieces of human genius. The marvelously lifelike description of +the vulgar Parisian boarding-house, the fascinating delineation of the +character of that king of convicts, Vautrin, and the fine analysis of +the ambitions of Rastignac (who comes nearer perhaps to being _the_ hero +of the 'Comédie humaine' than any other of its characters, and is here +presented to us at the threshold of his successful career) remain in the +memory of every reader, but would never alone have sufficed to make +Balzac's name worthy of immortality. The infinite quality of Goriot's +passion would, however, have conferred this honor on his creator had he +never written another book. + +'Illusions perdues' and 'Splendeurs et misères des courtisanes' might +almost be regarded as one novel in seven parts. More than any other of +his works they show the sun of Balzac's genius at its meridian. Nowhere +else does he give us plots so absorbing, nowhere else does he bring us +so completely in contact with the world his imagination has peopled. The +first novel devotes two of its parts to the provinces and one to Paris. +The provincial stories centre around two brothers-in-law, David Séchard +and Lucien de Rubempré, types of the practical and the artistic +intellect respectively. David, after struggling for fame and fortune, +succumbs and finds his recompense in the love of his wife Eve, Lucien's +sister, one of Balzac's noble women. Lucien, on the other hand, after +some provincial successes as a poet, tries the great world of Paris, +yields to its temptations, fails ignominiously, and attempts suicide, +but is rescued by the great Vautrin, who has escaped from prison and is +about to renew his war on society disguised as a Spanish priest. Vautrin +has conceived the idea that as he can take no part in society, he will +have a representative in it and taste its pleasures through him. Lucien +accepts this disgraceful position and plunges once more into the vortex, +supported by the strong arm of the king of the convicts. His career and +that of his patron form the subject of the four parts of the 'Splendeurs +et misères' and are too complicated to be described here. Suffice it to +say that probably nowhere else in fiction are the novel of character and +the novel of incident so splendidly combined; and certainly nowhere +else in the range of his work does Balzac so fully display all his +master qualities. That the story is sensational cannot be denied, but it +is at least worthy of being called the Iliad of Crime. Nemesis waits +upon both Lucien and Vautrin, and upon the poor courtesan Esther whom +they entrap in their toils, and when the two former are at last in +custody, Lucien commits suicide. Vautrin baffles his acute judge in a +wonderful interview; but with his cherished hope cut short by Lucien's +death, finally gives up the struggle. Here the novel might have ended; +yet Balzac adds a fourth part, in order to complete the career of +Vautrin. The famous convict is transformed into a government spy, and +engages to use his immense power against his former comrades and in +defense of the society he has hitherto warred upon. The artistic +propriety of this transformation may be questioned, but not the power +and interest of the novel of which it is the finishing touch. + +Many readers would put the companion novels 'La Cousine Bette' and 'Le +Cousin Pons' at the head of Balzac's works. They have not the infinite +pathos of 'Le Père Goriot,' or the superb construction of the first +three parts of the 'Splendeurs et misères,' but for sheer strength the +former at least is unsurpassed in fiction. Never before or since have +the effects of vice in dragging down a man below the level of the lowest +brute been so portrayed as in Baron Hulot; never before or since has +female depravity been so illustrated as in the diabolical career of +Valérie Marneffe, probably the worst woman in fiction. As for Cousine +Bette herself, and her power to breed mischief and crime, it suffices to +say that she is worthy of a place beside the two chief characters. + +'Le Cousin Pons' is a very different book; one which, though pathetic in +the extreme, may be safely recommended to the youngest reader. The hero +who gives his name to the story is an old musician who has worn out his +welcome among his relations, but who becomes an object of interest to +them when they learn that his collection of bric-a-brac is valuable and +that he is about to die. The intrigues that circulate around this +collection and the childlike German, Schmucke, to whom Pons has +bequeathed it, are described as only the author of 'Le Curé de Tours' +could have succeeded in doing; but the book contains also an almost +perfect description of the ideal friendship existing between Pons and +Schmucke. One remembers them longer than one does Frazier, the +scoundrelly advocate who cheats poor Schmucke; a fact which should be +cited against those who urge that Balzac is at home with his vicious +characters only. + +The last novel of this group, 'César Birotteau,' is the least powerful, +though not perhaps the least popular. It is an excellent study of +bourgeois life, and therefore fills an important place in the scheme of +the 'Comedy,' describing as it does the spreading ambitions of a rich +but stupid perfumer, and containing an admirable study of bankruptcy. It +may be dismissed with the remark that around the innocent Caesar surge +most of the scoundrels that figure in the 'Comédie humaine,' and with +the regret that it should have been completed while the far more +powerful 'Les Petits bourgeois' was left unfinished. + +We now come to the concluding parts of the 'Études de moeurs.' the +'Scenes' describing Political and Military Life. In the first group are +five novels and stories: 'L'Envers de l'histoire contemporaine' (The +Under Side of Contemporary History, a fine story, but rather social than +political), 'Une Ténébreuse affaire' (A Shady Affair), 'Un Épisode sous +la Terreur,' 'Z. Marcas,' and 'Le Deputé d'Arcis' (The Deputy of Arcis). +Of these the 'Episode' is probably the most admirable, although 'Z. +Marcas' has not a little strength. The 'Deputé,' like 'Les Petits +bourgeois,' was continued by M. Charles Rabou and a considerable part of +it is not Balzac's; a fact which is to be regretted, since practically +it is the only one of these stories that touches actual politics as the +term is usually understood. The military scenes are only two in number, +'Les Chouans' and 'Une Passion dans le désert.' The former of these has +been sufficiently described already; the latter is one of the best known +of the short stories, but rather deserves a place beside 'La Fille aux +yeux d'or.' Indeed, for Balzac's best military scenes we must go to 'Le +Colonel Chabert' or to 'Adieu.' + +We now pass to those subterranean chambers of the great structure we are +exploring, the 'Études philosophiques.' They are twenty in number, four +being novels, one a composite volume of tales, and the rest stories. The +titles run as follows:--'La Peau de chagrin,' 'L'Élixir de longue vie' +(The Elixir of Life), 'Melmoth réconcilié,' 'Le Chef-d'oeuvre inconnu' +(The Anonymous Masterpiece), 'Gambara,' 'Massimila Doni,' 'Le +Réquisitionnaire,' 'Adieu,' 'El Verdugo,' 'Les Marana,' 'L'Auberge +rouge' (The Red Inn), 'Un Drame au bord de la mer' (A Seaside Drama), +'L'Enfant maudit' (A Child Accursed) 'Maître Cornélius' (Master +Cornelius), 'Sur Catherine de Médicis,' 'La Recherche de l'absolu,' +'Louis Lambert,' 'Séraphita,' 'Les Proscrits,' and 'Jésus-Christ +en Flandre.' + +Of the novels, 'La Peau de chagrin' is easily first. Its central theme +is the world-old conflict between the infinite desires and the finite +powers of man. The hero, Raphael, is hardly, as M. Barrière asserts, on +a level with Hamlet, Faust, and Manfred, but the struggle of his +infinite and his finite natures is almost as intensely interesting as +the similar struggles in them. The introduction of the talisman, the +wild ass's skin that accomplishes all the wishes of its owner, but on +condition that it is to shrink away in proportion to the intensity of +those wishes, and that when it disappears the owner's life is to end, +gave to the story a weird interest not altogether, perhaps, in keeping +with its realistic setting, and certainly forcing a disastrous +comparison with the three great poems named. But when all allowances are +made, one is forced to conclude that 'La Peau de chagrin' is a novel of +extraordinary power and absorbing interest; and that its description of +its hero's dissipations in the libertine circles of Paris, and its +portrayal of the sublime devotion of the heroine Pauline for her slowly +perishing lover, are scarcely to be paralleled in literature. Far less +powerful are the short stories on similar themes, entitled 'L'Élixir de +longue vie,' and 'Melmoth réconcilié' (Melmoth Reconciled), which give +us Balzac's rehandling of the Don Juan of Molière and Byron, and the +Melmoth of Maturin. + +Below the 'Peau de chagrin,' but still among its author's best novels, +should be placed 'La Recherche de l'absolu,' which, as its title +implies, describes the efforts of a chemist to "prove by chemical +analysis the unity of composition of matter." In the pursuit of his +philosophic will-o'-the-wisp, Balthazar Claës loses his fortune and +sacrifices his noble wife and children. His madness serves, however, to +bring into relief the splendid qualities of these latter; and it is just +here, in its human rather than in its philosophic bearings, that the +story rises to real greatness. Marguerite Claës, the daughter, is a +noble heroine; and if one wishes to see how Balzac's characters and +ideas suffer when treated by another though an able hand, one has but to +read in conjunction with this novel the 'Maître Guérin' of the +distinguished dramatist Émile Augier. A proper pendant to this history +of a noble genius perverted is 'La Confidence des Ruggieri,' the second +part of that remarkable composite 'Sur Catherine de Médicis,' a book +which in spite of its mixture of history, fiction, and speculative +politics is one of the most suggestive of Balzac's minor productions. + +Concerning 'Séraphita' and 'Louis Lambert,' the remaining novels of this +series, certain noted mystics assert that they contain the essence of +Balzac's genius, and at least suggest the secret of the universe. +Perhaps an ordinary critic may content himself with saying that both +books are remarkable proofs of their author's power, and that the former +is notable for its marvelous descriptions of Norwegian scenery. + +Of the lesser members of the philosophic group, nearly all are admirable +in their kind and degree. 'Le Chef-d'oeuvre inconnu' and 'Gambara' treat +of the pains of the artistic life and temperament. 'Massimila Doni,' +like 'Gambara,' treats of music, but also gives a brilliant picture of +Venetian life. 'Le réquisitionnaire,' perhaps the best of Balzac's +short stories, deals with the phenomenon of second sight, as 'Adieu' +does with that of mental alienation caused by a sudden shock. 'Les +Marana' is an absorbing study of the effects of heredity; 'L'Auberge +rouge' is an analysis of remorse, as is also 'Un Drame au bord de la +mer'; while 'L'Enfant maudit' is an analysis of the effects of extreme +sensibility, especially as manifested in the passion of poetic love. +Finally, 'Maître Cornelius' is a study of avarice, in which is set a +remarkable portrait of Louis XI.; 'Les Proscrits' is a masterly sketch +of the exile of Dante at Paris; and 'Jésus-Christ en Flandre' is an +exquisite allegory, the most delicate flower, perhaps, of +Balzac's genius. + +It remains only to say a few words about the third division of the +'Comédie humaine,' viz., the 'Études analytiques.' Only two members of +the series, the 'Physiologie du mariage' and the 'Petites misères de la +vie conjugale,' were ever completed, and they are not great enough to +make us regret the loss of the 'Pathology of Social Life' and the other +unwritten volumes. For the two books we have are neither novels nor +profound studies, neither great fiction nor great psychology. That they +are worth reading for their suggestiveness with regard to such important +subjects as marriage and conjugal life goes without saying, since they +are Balzac's; but that they add greatly to his reputation, not even his +most ardent admirer would be hardy enough to affirm. + +And now in conclusion, what can one say about this great writer that +will not fall far short of his deserts? Plainly, nothing, yet a few +points may be accentuated with profit. We should notice in the first +place that Balzac has consciously tried almost every form of prose +fiction, and has been nearly always splendidly successful. In analytic +studies of high, middle, and low life he has not his superior. In the +novel of intrigue and sensation he is easily a master, while he succeeds +at least fairly in a form of fiction at just the opposite pole from +this, to wit, the idyl ('Le Lys dans la vallée'). In character sketches +of extreme types, like 'Gobseck,' his supremacy has long been +recognized, and he is almost as powerful when he enters the world of +mysticism, whither so few of us can follow him. As a writer of +novelettes he is unrivaled and some of his short stories are worthy to +rank with the best that his followers have produced. In the extensive +use of dialect he was a pioneer; in romance he has 'La Peau de chagrin' +and 'La Recherche de l'absolu' to his credit; while some of the work in +the tales connected with the name of Catherine de Medici shows what he +could have done in historical fiction had he continued to follow Scott. +And what is true of the form of his fiction is true of its elements. +Tragedy, comedy, melodrama are all within his reach; he can call up +tears and shudders, laughter and smiles at will. He knows the whole +range of human emotions, and he dares to penetrate into the arcana of +passions almost too terrible or loathsome for literature to touch. + +In style, in the larger sense of the word, he is almost equally supreme. +He is the father of modern realism and remains its greatest exponent. He +retains always some of the good elements of romance,--that is to say, he +sees the thing as it ought to be,--and he avoids the pitfalls of +naturalism, being a painter and not a photographer. In other words, like +all truly great writers he never forgets his ideals; but he is too +impartial to his characters and has too fast a grip on life to fall into +the unrealities of sentimentalism. It is true that he lacked the +spontaneity that characterized his great forerunner, Shakespeare, and +his great contemporary, George Sand; but this loss was made up by the +inevitable and impersonal character of his work when once his genius was +thoroughly aroused to action. His laborious method of describing by an +accumulation of details postponed the play of his powers, which are at +their height in the action of his characters; yet sooner or later the +inert masses of his composition were fused into a burning whole. But if +Balzac is primarily a dramatist in the creation and manipulation of his +characters, he is also a supreme painter in his presentation of scenes. +And what characters and what scenes has he not set before us! Over two +thousand personages move through the 'Comédie humaine,' whose +biographies MM. Cerfberr and Christophe have collected for us in their +admirable 'Répertoire de la comédie humaine,' and whose chief types M. +Paul Flat has described in the first series of his 'Essais sur Balzac.' +Some of these personages are of course shadowy; but an amazingly large +number live for us as truly as Shakespeare's heroes and heroines do. Nor +will any one who has trod the streets of Balzac's Paris, or spent the +summer with him at the chateau des Aigues ('Les Paysans'), or in the +beautiful valleys of Touraine, ever forget the master's pictures. + +Yet the Balzac who with intangible materials created living and +breathing men and women and unfading scenes, has been accused of +vitiating the French language and has been denied the possession of +verbal style. On this point French critics must give the final verdict; +but a foreigner may cite Taine's defense of that style, and maintain +that most of the liberties taken by Balzac with his native language were +forced on him by the novel and far-reaching character of his work. Nor +should it be forgotten that he was capable at times of almost perfect +passages of description, and that he rarely confounded, as novelists are +too apt to do, the provinces of poetry and prose. + +But one might write a hundred essays on Balzac and not exhaust him. One +might write a volume on his women, a volume to refute the charge that +his bad men are better drawn than his good, a volume to discuss Mr. +Henry James's epigrammatic declaration that a five-franc piece may be +fairly called the protagonist of the 'Comédie humaine.' In short one +might go on defending and praising and even criticizing Balzac for a +lifetime, and be little further advanced than when one began; for to +criticize Balzac, is it not to criticize life itself? + +[Illustration: Signature W.P. Trent] + + +THE MEETING IN THE CONVENT + +From 'The Duchess of Langeais' + + + I + +In a Spanish town on an island of the Mediterranean there is a convent +of the Barefooted Carmelites, where the rule of the Order instituted by +Saint Theresa is still kept with the primitive rigor of the reformation +brought about by that illustrious woman. Extraordinary as this fact may +seem, it is true. Though the monasteries of the Peninsula and those of +the Continent were nearly all destroyed or broken up by the outburst of +the French Revolution and the turmoil of the Napoleonic wars, yet on +this island, protected by the British fleets, the wealthy convent and +its peaceful inmates were sheltered from the dangers of change and +general spoliation. The storms from all quarters which shook the first +fifteen years of the nineteenth century subsided ere they reached this +lonely rock near the coast of Andalusia. If the name of the great +Emperor echoed fitfully upon its shores, it may be doubted whether the +fantastic march of his glory or the flaming majesty of his meteoric life +ever reached the comprehension of those saintly women kneeling in their +distant cloister. + +A conventual rigor, which was never relaxed, gave to this haven a +special place in the thoughts and history of the Catholic world. The +purity of its rule drew to its shelter from different parts of Europe +sad women, whose souls, deprived of human ties, longed for the death in +life which they found here in the bosom of God. No other convent was so +fitted to wean the heart and teach it that aloofness from the things of +this world which the religious life imperatively demands. On the +Continent may be found a number of such Houses, nobly planned to meet +the wants of their sacred purpose. Some are buried in the depths of +solitary valleys; others hang, as it were, in mid-air above the hills, +clinging to the mountain slopes or projecting from the verge of +precipices. On all sides man has sought out the poesy of the infinite, +the solemnity of silence: he has sought God; and on the mountain-tops, +in the abysmal depths, among the caverned cliffs he has found Him. Yet +nowhere as on this European islet, half African though it be, can he +find such differing harmonies all blending to lift the soul and quell +its springs of anguish; to cool its fevers, and give to the sorrows of +life a bed of rest. + +The monastery is built at the extremity of the island at its highest +part, where the rock by some convulsion of Nature has been rent sharply +down to the sea, and presents at all points keen angles and edges, +slightly eaten away at the water-line by the action of the waves, but +insurmountable to all approach. The rock is also protected from assault +by dangerous reefs running far out from its base, over which frolic the +blue waters of the Mediterranean. It is only from the sea that the +visitor can perceive the four principal parts of the square structure, +which adheres minutely as to shape, height, and the piercing of its +windows to the prescribed laws of monastic architecture. On the side +towards the town the church hides the massive lines of the cloister, +whose roof is covered with large tiles to protect it from winds and +storms, and also from the fierce heat of the sun. The church, the gift +of a Spanish family, looks down upon the town and crowns it. Its bold +yet elegant façade gives a noble aspect to the little maritime city. Is +it not a picture of terrestrial sublimity? See the tiny town with +clustering roofs, rising like an amphitheatre from the picturesque port +upward to the noble Gothic frontal of the church, from which spring the +slender shafts of the bell-towers with their pointed finials: religion +dominating life: offering to man the end and the way of living,--image +of a thought altogether Spanish. Place this scene upon the bosom of the +Mediterranean beneath an ardent sky; plant it with palms whose waving +fronds mingle their green life with the sculptured leafage of the +immutable architecture; look at the white fringes of the sea as it runs +up the reef and they sparkle upon the sapphire of its wave; see the +galleries and the terraces built upon the roofs of houses, where the +inhabitants come at eve to breathe the flower-scented air as it rises +through the tree-tops from their little gardens. Below, in the harbor, +are the white sails. The serenity of night is coming on; listen to the +notes of the organ, the chant of evening orisons, the echoing bells of +the ships at sea: on all sides sound and peace,--oftenest peace. + +Within the church are three naves, dark and mysterious. The fury of the +winds evidently forbade the architect to build out lateral buttresses, +such as adorn all other cathedrals, and between which little chapels are +usually constructed. Thus the strong walls which flank the lesser naves +shed no light into the building. Outside, their gray masses are shored +up from point to point by enormous beams. The great nave and its two +small lateral galleries are lighted solely by the rose-window of stained +glass, which pierces with miraculous art the wall above the great +portal, whose fortunate exposure permits a wealth of tracery and +dentellated stone-work belonging to that order of architecture +miscalled Gothic. + +The greater part of the three naves is given up to the inhabitants of +the town who come to hear Mass and the Offices of the Church. In front +of the choir is a latticed screen, within which brown curtains hang in +ample folds, slightly parted in the middle to give a limited view of the +altar and the officiating priest. The screen is divided at intervals by +pillars that hold up a gallery within the choir which contains the +organ. This construction, in harmony with the rest of the building, +continues, in sculptured wood, the little columns of the lateral +galleries which are supported by the pillars of the great nave. Thus it +is impossible for the boldest curiosity, if any such should dare to +mount the narrow balustrade of these galleries, to see farther into the +choir than the octagonal stained windows which pierce the apse behind +the high altar. + +At the time of the French expedition into Spain for the purpose of +re-establishing the authority of Ferdinand VII., and after the fall of +Cadiz, a French general who was sent to the island to obtain its +recognition of the royal government prolonged his stay upon it that he +might reconnoitre the convent and gain, if possible, admittance there. +The enterprise was a delicate one. But a man of passion,--a man whose +life had been, so to speak, a series of poems in action, who had lived +romances instead of writing them; above all a man of deeds,--might well +be tempted by a project apparently so impossible. To open for himself +legally the gates of a convent of women! The Pope and the Metropolitan +Archbishop would scarcely sanction it. Should he use force or artifice? +In case of failure was he not certain to lose his station and his +military future, besides missing his aim? The Duc d'Angoulême was still +in Spain; and of all the indiscretions which an officer in favor with +the commander-in-chief could commit, this alone would be punished +without pity. The general had solicited his present mission for the +purpose of following up a secret hope, albeit no hope was ever so +despairing. This last effort, however, was a matter of conscience. The +house of these Barefooted Carmelites was the only Spanish convent which +had escaped his search. While crossing from the mainland, a voyage which +took less than an hour, a strong presentiment of success had seized his +heart. Since then, although he had seen nothing of the convent but its +walls, nothing of the nuns, not so much as their brown habit; though he +had heard only the echoes of their chanted liturgies,--he had gathered +from those walls and from these chants faint indications that seemed to +justify his fragile hope. Slight as the auguries thus capriciously +awakened might be, no human passion was ever more violently roused than +the curiosity of this French general. To the heart there are no +insignificant events; it magnifies all things; it puts in the same +balance the fall of an empire and the fall of a woman's glove,--and +oftentimes the glove outweighs the empire. But let us give the facts in +their actual simplicity: after the facts will come the feelings. + +An hour after the expedition had landed on the island the royal +authority was re-established. A few Spaniards who had taken refuge there +after the fall of Cadiz embarked on a vessel which the general allowed +them to charter for their voyage to London. There was thus neither +resistance nor reaction. This little insular restoration could not, +however, be accomplished without a Mass, at which both companies of the +troops were ordered to be present. Not knowing the rigor of the +Carmelite rule, the general hoped to gain in the church some information +about the nuns who were immured in the convent, one of whom might be a +being dearer to him than life, more precious even than honor. His hopes +were at first cruelly disappointed. Mass was celebrated with the utmost +pomp. In honor of this solemn occasion the curtains which habitually +hid the choir were drawn aside, and gave to view the rich ornaments, the +priceless pictures, and the shrines incrusted with jewels whose +brilliancy surpassed that of the votive offerings fastened by the +mariners of the port to the pillars of the great nave. The nuns, +however, had retired to the seclusion of the organ gallery. + +Yet in spite of this check, and while the Mass of thanksgiving was being +sung, suddenly and secretly the drama widened into an interest as +profound as any that ever moved the heart of man. The Sister who played +the organ roused an enthusiasm so vivid that not one soldier present +regretted the order which had brought him to the church. The men +listened to the music with pleasure; the officers were carried away by +it. As for the general, he remained to all appearance calm and cold: the +feelings with which he heard the notes given forth by the nun are among +the small number of earthly things whose expression is withheld from +impotent human speech, but which--like death, like God, like +eternity--can be perceived only at their slender point of contact with +the heart of man. By a strange chance the music of the organ seemed to +be that of Rossini,--a composer who more than any other has carried +human passion into the art of music, and whose works by their number and +extent will some day inspire an Homeric respect. From among the scores +of this fine genius the nun seemed to have chiefly studied that of Moses +in Egypt; doubtless because the feelings of sacred music are there +carried to the highest pitch. Perhaps these two souls--one so gloriously +European, the other unknown--had met together in some intuitive +perception of the same poetic thought. This idea occurred to two +officers now present, true _dilettanti_, who no doubt keenly regretted +the Théatre Favart in their Spanish exile. At last, at the Te Deum, it +was impossible not to recognize a French soul in the character which the +music suddenly took on. The triumph of his Most Christian Majesty +evidently roused to joy the heart of that cloistered nun. Surely she was +a Frenchwoman. Presently the patriotic spirit burst forth, sparkling +like a jet of light through the antiphonals of the organ, as the Sister +recalled melodies breathing the delicacy of Parisian taste, and blended +them with vague memories of our national anthems. Spanish hands could +not have put into this graceful homage paid to victorious arms the fire +that thus betrayed the origin of the musician. + +"France is everywhere!" said a soldier. + +The general left the church during the Te Deum; it was impossible for +him to listen to it. The notes of the musician revealed to him a woman +loved to madness; who had buried herself so deeply in the heart of +religion, hid herself so carefully away from the sight of the world, +that up to this time she had escaped the keen search of men armed not +only with immense power, but with great sagacity and intelligence. The +hopes which had wakened in the general's heart seemed justified as he +listened to the vague echo of a tender and melancholy air, 'La Fleuve du +Tage,'--a ballad whose prelude he had often heard in Paris in the +boudoir of the woman he loved, and which this nun now used to express, +amid the joys of the conquerors, the suffering of an exiled heart. +Terrible moment! to long for the resurrection of a lost love; to find +that love--still lost; to meet it mysteriously after five years in which +passion, exasperated by the void, had been intensified by the useless +efforts made to satisfy it. + +Who is there that has not, once at least in his life, upturned +everything about him, his papers and his receptacles, taxing his memory +impatiently as he seeks some precious lost object; and then felt the +ineffable pleasure of finding it after days consumed in the search, +after hoping and despairing of its recovery,--spending upon some trifle +an excitement of mind almost amounting to a passion? Well, stretch this +fury of search through five long years; put a woman, a heart, a love in +the place of the insignificant trifle; lift the passion into the highest +realms of feeling; and then picture to yourself an ardent man, a man +with the heart of lion and the front of Jove, one of those men who +command, and communicate to those about them, respectful terror,--you +will then understand the abrupt departure of the general during the Te +Deum, at the moment when the prelude of an air, once heard in Paris with +delight under gilded ceilings, vibrated through the dark naves of the +church by the sea. + +He went down the hilly street which led up to the convent, without +pausing until the sonorous echoes of the organ could no longer reach his +ear. Unable to think of anything but of the love that like a volcanic +eruption rent his heart, the French general only perceived that the Te +Deum was ended when the Spanish contingent poured from the church. He +felt that his conduct and appearance were open to ridicule, and he +hastily resumed his place at the head of the cavalcade, explaining to +the alcalde and to the governor of the town that a sudden indisposition +had obliged him to come out into the air. Then it suddenly occurred to +him to use the pretext thus hastily given, as a means of prolonging his +stay on the island. Excusing himself on the score of increased illness, +he declined to preside at the banquet given by the authorities of the +island to the French officers, and took to his bed, after writing to the +major-general that a passing illness compelled him to turn over his +command to the colonel. This commonplace artifice, natural as it was, +left him free from all duties and able to seek the fulfilment of his +hopes. Like a man essentially Catholic and monarchical, he inquired the +hours of the various services, and showed the utmost interest in the +duties of religion,--a piety which in Spain excited no surprise. + + + II + +The following day, while the soldiers were embarking, the general went +up to the convent to be present at vespers. He found the church deserted +by the townspeople, who in spite of their natural devotion were +attracted to the port by the embarkation of the troops. The Frenchman, +glad to find himself alone in the church, took pains to make the clink +of his spurs resound through the vaulted roof; he walked noisily, and +coughed, and spoke aloud to himself, hoping to inform the nuns, but +especially the Sister at the organ, that if the French soldiers were +departing, one at least remained behind. Was this singular method of +communication heard and understood? The general believed it was. In the +Magnificat the organ seemed to give an answer which came to him in the +vibrations of the air. The soul of the nun floated towards him on the +wings of the notes she touched, quivering with the movements of the +sound. The music burst forth with power; it glorified the church. This +hymn of joy, consecrated by the sublime liturgy of Roman Christianity to +the uplifting of the soul in presence of the splendors of the +ever-living God, became the utterance of a heart terrified at its own +happiness in presence of the splendors of a perishable love, which still +lived, and came to move it once more beyond the tomb where this woman +had buried herself, to rise again the bride of Christ. + +The organ is beyond all question the finest, the most daring, the most +magnificent of the instruments created by human genius. It is an +orchestra in itself, from which a practiced hand may demand all things; +for it expresses all things. Is it not, as it were, a coign of vantage, +where the soul may poise itself ere it springs into space, bearing, as +it flies, the listening mind through a thousand scenes of life towards +the infinite which parts earth from heaven? The longer a poet listens to +its gigantic harmonies, the more fully will he comprehend that between +kneeling humanity and the God hidden by the dazzling rays of the Holy of +Holies, the hundred voices of terrestrial choirs can alone bridge the +vast distance and interpret to Heaven the prayers of men in all the +omnipotence of their desires, in the diversities of their woe, with the +tints of their meditations and their ecstasies, with the impetuous +spring of their repentance, and the thousand imaginations of their +manifold beliefs. Yes! beneath these soaring vaults the harmonies born +of the genius of sacred things find a yet unheard-of grandeur, which +adorns and strengthens them. Here the dim light, the deep silence, the +voices alternating with the solemn tones of the organ, seem like a veil +through which the luminous attributes of God himself pierce and radiate. +Yet all these sacred riches now seem flung like a grain of incense on +the frail altar of an earthly love, in presence of the eternal throne of +a jealous and avenging Deity. The joy of the nun had not the gravity +which properly belongs to the solemnity of the Magnificat. She gave to +the music rich and graceful modulations, whose rhythms breathed of human +gayety; her measures ran into the brilliant cadences of a great singer +striving to express her love, and the notes rose buoyantly like the +carol of a bird by the side of its mate. At moments she darted back into +the past, as if to sport there or to weep there for an instant. Her +changing moods had something discomposed about them, like the agitations +of a happy woman rejoicing at the return of her lover. Then, as these +supple strains of passionate emotion ceased, the soul that spoke +returned upon itself; the musician passed from the major to the minor +key, and told her hearer the story of her present. She revealed to him +her long melancholy, the slow malady of her moral being,--every day a +feeling crushed, every night a thought subdued, hour by hour a heart +burning down to ashes. After soft modulations the music took on slowly, +tint by tint, the hue of deepest sadness. Soon it poured forth in +echoing torrents the well-springs of grief, till suddenly the higher +notes struck clear like the voice of angels, as if to tell to her lost +love--lost, but not forgotten--that the reunion of their souls must be +in heaven, and only there: hope most precious! Then came the Amen. In +that no joy, no tears, nor sadness, nor regrets, but a return to God. +The last chord that sounded was grave, solemn, terrible. The musician +revealed the nun in the garb of her vocation; and as the thunder of the +basses rolled away, causing the hearer to shudder through his whole +being, she seemed to sink into the tomb from which for a brief moment +she had risen. As the echoes slowly ceased to vibrate along the vaulted +roofs, the church, made luminous by the music, fell suddenly into +profound obscurity. + +The general, carried away by the course of this powerful genius, had +followed her, step by step, along her way. He comprehended in their full +meaning the pictures that gleamed through that burning symphony; for him +those chords told all. For him, as for the Sister, this poem of sound +was the future, the past, the present. Music, even the music of an +opera, is it not to tender and poetic souls, to wounded and suffering +hearts, a text which they interpret as their memories need? If the heart +of a poet must be given to a musician, must not poetry and love be +listeners ere the great musical works of art are understood? Religion, +love, and music: are they not the triple expression of one fact, the +need of expansion, the need of touching with their own infinite the +infinite beyond them, which is in the fibre of all noble souls? These +three forms of poesy end in God, who alone can unwind the knot of +earthly emotion. Thus this holy human trinity joins itself to the +holiness of God, of whom we make to ourselves no conception unless we +surround him by the fires of love and the golden cymbals of music and +light and harmony. + +The French general divined that on this desert rock, surrounded by the +surging seas, the nun had cherished music to free her soul of the excess +of passion that consumed it. Did she offer her love as a homage to God? +Did the love triumph over the vows she had made to Him? Questions +difficult to answer. But, beyond all doubt, the lover had found in a +heart dead to the world a love as passionate as that which burned +within his own. + +When vespers ended he returned to the house of the alcalde, where he was +quartered. Giving himself over, a willing prey, to the delights of a +success long expected, laboriously sought, his mind at first could dwell +on nothing else,--he was still loved. Solitude had nourished the love of +that heart, just as his own had thriven on the barriers, successively +surmounted, which this woman had placed between herself and him. This +ecstasy of the spirit had its natural duration; then came the desire to +see this woman, to withdraw her from God, to win her back to himself,--a +bold project, welcome to a bold man. After the evening repast, he +retired to his room to escape questions and think in peace, and remained +plunged in deep meditation throughout the night. He rose early and went +to Mass. He placed himself close to the latticed screen, his brow +touching the brown curtain. He longed to rend it away; but he was not +alone, his host had accompanied him, and the least imprudence might +compromise the future of his love and ruin his new-found hopes. The +organ was played, but not by the same hand; the musician of the last two +days was absent from its key-board. All was chill and pale to the +general. Was his mistress worn out by the emotions which had wellnigh +broken down his own vigorous heart? Had she so truly shared and +comprehended his faithful and eager love that she now lay exhausted and +dying in her cell? At the moment when such thoughts as these rose in the +general's mind, he heard beside him the voice beloved; he knew the clear +ring of its tones. The voice, slightly changed by a tremor which gave it +the timid grace and modesty of a young girl, detached itself from the +volume of song, like the voice of a prima donna in the harmonies of her +final notes. It gave to the ear an impression like the effect to the eye +of a fillet of silver or gold threading a dark frieze. It was indeed +she! Still Parisian, she had not lost her gracious charm, though she had +forsaken the coronet and adornments of the world for the frontlet and +serge of a Carmelite. Having revealed her love the night before in the +praises addressed to the Lord of all, she seemed now to say to her +lover:--"Yes, it is I: I am here. I love forever; yet I am aloof from +love. Thou shalt hear me; my soul shall enfold thee; but I must stay +beneath the brown shroud of this choir, from which no power can tear me. +Thou canst not see me." + +"It is she!" whispered the general to himself, as he raised his head and +withdrew his hands from his face; for he had not been able to bear erect +the storm of feeling that shook his heart as the voice vibrated through +the arches and blended with the murmur of the waves. A storm raged +without, yet peace was within the sanctuary. The rich voice still +caressed the ear, and fell like balm upon the parched heart of the +lover; it flowered in the air about him, from which he breathed the +emanations of her spirit exhaling her love through the aspirations of +its prayer. + +The alcalde came to rejoin his guest, and found him bathed in tears at +the elevation of the Host which was chanted by the nun. Surprised to +find such devotion in a French officer, he invited the confessor of the +convent to join them at supper, and informed the general, to whom no +news had ever given such pleasure, of what he had done. During the +supper the general made the confessor the object of much attention, and +thus confirmed the Spaniards in the high opinion they had formed of his +piety. He inquired with grave interest the number of the nuns, and asked +details about the revenues of the convent and its wealth, with the air +of a man who politely wished to choose topics which occupied the mind of +the good old priest. Then he inquired about the life led by the sisters. +Could they go out? Could they see friends? + +"Senhor," said the venorable priest, "the rule is severe. If the +permission of our Holy Father must be obtained before a woman can enter +a house of Saint Bruno [the Chartreux] the like rule exists here. It is +impossible for any man to enter a convent of the Bare-footed Carmelites, +unless he is a priest delegated by the archbishop for duty in the House. +No nun can go out. It is true, however, that the Great Saint, Mother +Theresa, did frequently leave her cell. A Mother-superior can alone, +under authority of the archbishop, permit a nun to see her friends, +especially in case of illness. As this convent is one of the chief +Houses of the Order, it has a Mother-superior residing in it. We have +several foreigners,--among them a Frenchwoman, Sister Theresa, the one +who directs the music in the chapel." + +"Ah!" said the general, feigning surprise: "she must have been gratified +by the triumph of the House of Bourbon?" + +"I told them the object of the Mass; they are always rather curious." + +"Perhaps Sister Theresa has some interests in France; she might be glad +to receive some news, or ask some questions?" + +"I think not; or she would have spoken to me." + +"As a compatriot," said the general, "I should be curious to see--that +is, if it were possible, if the superior would consent, if--" + +"At the grating, even in the presence of the reverend Mother, an +interview would be absolutely impossible for any ordinary man, no matter +who he was; but in favor of a liberator of a Catholic throne and our +holy religion, possibly, in spite of the rigid rule of our Mother +Theresa, the rule might be relaxed," said the confessor. "I will speak +about it." + +"How old is Sister Theresa?" asked the lover, who dared not question the +priest about the beauty of the nun. + +"She is no longer of any age," said the good old man, with a simplicity +which made the general shudder. + + + III + +The next day, before the _siesta_, the confessor came to tell the +general that Sister Theresa and the Mother-superior consented to receive +him at the grating that evening before the hour of vespers. After the +_siesta_, during which the Frenchman had whiled away the time by walking +round the port in the fierce heat of the sun, the priest came to show +him the way into the convent. + +He was guided through a gallery which ran the length of the cemetery, +where fountains and trees and numerous arcades gave a cool freshness in +keeping with that still and silent spot. When they reached the end of +this long gallery, the priest led his companion into a parlor, divided +in the middle by a grating covered with a brown curtain. On the side +which we must call public, and where the confessor left the general, +there was a wooden bench along one side of the wall; some chairs, also +of wood, were near the grating. The ceiling was of wood, crossed by +heavy beams of the evergreen oak, without ornament. Daylight came from +two windows in the division set apart for the nuns, and was absorbed by +the brown tones of the room; so that it barely showed the picture of the +great black Christ, and those of Saint Theresa and the Blessed Virgin, +which hung on the dark panels of the walls. + +The feelings of the general turned, in spite of their violence, to a +tone of melancholy. He grew calm in these calm precincts. Something +mighty as the grave seized him beneath these chilling rafters. Was it +not the eternal silence, the deep peace, the near presence of the +infinite? Through the stillness came the fixed thought of the +cloister,--that thought which glides through the air in the half-lights, +and is in all things,--the thought unchangeable; nowhere seen, which yet +grows vast to the imagination; the all-comprising phrase, _the peace of +God_. It enters there, with living power, into the least religious +heart. Convents of men are not easily conceivable; man seems feeble and +unmanly in them. He is born to act, to fulfil a life of toil; and he +escapes it in his cell. But in a monastery of women what strength to +endure, and yet what touching weakness! A man may be pushed by a +thousand sentiments into the depths of an abbey; he flings himself into +them as from a precipice. But the woman is drawn only by one feeling; +she does not unsex herself,--she espouses holiness. You may say to the +man, Why did you not struggle? but to the cloistered woman life is a +struggle still. + +The general found in this mute parlor of the seagirt convent memories of +himself. Love seldom reaches upward to solemnity; but love in the bosom +of God,--is there nothing solemn there? Yes, more than a man has the +right to hope for in this nineteenth century, with our manners and our +customs what they are. + +The general's soul was one on which such impressions act. His nature was +noble enough to forget self-interest, honors, Spain, the world, or +Paris, and rise to the heights of feeling roused by this unspeakable +termination of his long pursuit. What could be more tragic? How many +emotions held these lovers, reunited at last on this granite ledge far +out at sea, yet separated by an idea, an impassable barrier. Look at +this man, saying to himself, "Can I triumph over God in that heart?" + +A slight noise made him quiver. The brown curtain was drawn back; he saw +in the half-light a woman standing, but her face was hidden from him by +the projection of a veil, which lay in many folds upon her head. +According to the rule of the Order she was clothed in the brown garb +whose color has become proverbial. The general could not see the naked +feet, which would have told him the frightful emaciation of her body; +yet through the thick folds of the coarse robe that swathed her, his +heart divined that tears and prayers and passion and solitude had +wasted her away. + +The chill hand of a woman, doubtless the Mother-superior, held back the +curtain, and the general, examining this unwelcome witness of the +interview, encountered the deep grave eyes of an old nun, very aged, +whose clear, even youthful, glance belied the wrinkles that furrowed her +pale face. + +"Madame la duchesse," he said, in a voice shaken by emotion, to the +Sister, who bowed her head, "does your companion understand French?" + +"There is no duchess here," replied the nun. "You are in presence of +Sister Theresa. The woman whom you call my companion is my Mother in +God, my superior here below." + +These words, humbly uttered by a voice that once harmonized with the +luxury and elegance in which this woman had lived queen of the world of +Paris, that fell from lips whose language had been of old so gay, so +mocking, struck the general as if with an electric shock. + +"My holy Mother speaks only Latin and Spanish," she added. + +"I understand neither. Dear Antoinette, make her my excuses." + +As she heard her name softly uttered by a man once so hard to her, the +nun was shaken by emotion, betrayed only by the light quivering of her +veil, on which the light now fully fell. + +"My brother," she said, passing her sleeve beneath her veil, perhaps to +wipe her eyes, "my name is Sister Theresa." + +Then she turned to the Mother, and said to her in Spanish a few words +which the general plainly heard. He knew enough of the language to +understand it, perhaps to speak it. "My dear Mother, this gentleman +presents to you his respects, and begs you to excuse him for not laying +them himself at your feet; but he knows neither of the languages which +you speak." + +The old woman slowly bowed her head; her countenance took an expression +of angelic sweetness, tempered, nevertheless, by the consciousness of +her power and dignity. + +"You know this gentleman?" she asked, with a piercing glance at the +Sister. + +"Yes, my Mother." + +"Retire to your cell, my daughter," said the Superior in a tone of +authority. + +The general hastily withdrew to the shelter of the curtain, lest his +face should betray the anguish these words cost him; but he fancied that +the penetrating eyes of the Superior followed him even into the shadow. +This woman, arbiter of the frail and fleeting joy he had won at such +cost, made him afraid; he trembled, he whom a triple range of cannon +could not shake. + +The duchess walked to the door, but there she turned. "My Mother," she +said, in a voice horribly calm, "this Frenchman is one of my brothers." + +"Remain, therefore, my daughter," said the old woman, after a pause. + +The jesuitism of this answer revealed such love and such regret, that a +man of less firmness than the general would have betrayed his joy in the +midst of a peril so novel to him. But what value could there be in the +words, looks, gestures of a love that must be hidden from the eyes of a +lynx, the claws of a tiger? The Sister came back. + +"You see, my brother," she said, "what I have dared to do that I might +for one moment speak to you of your salvation, and tell you of the +prayers which day by day my soul offers to heaven on your behalf. I have +committed a mortal sin,--I have lied. How many days of penitence to wash +out that lie! But I shall suffer for you. You know not, my brother, the +joy of loving in heaven, of daring to avow affections that religion has +purified, that have risen to the highest regions, that at last we know +and feel with the soul alone. If the doctrines--if the spirit of the +saint to whom we owe this refuge had not lifted me above the anguish of +earth to a world, not indeed where she is, but far above my lower life, +I could not have seen you now. But I can see you, I can hear you, and +remain calm." + +"Antoinette," said the general, interrupting these words, "suffer me to +see you--you, whom I love passionately, to madness, as you once would +have had me love you." + +"Do not call me Antoinette, I implore you: memories of the past do me +harm. See in me only the Sister Theresa, a creature trusting all to the +divine pity. And," she added, after a pause, "subdue yourself, my +brother. Our Mother would separate us instantly if your face betrayed +earthly passions, or your eyes shed tears." + +The general bowed his head, as if to collect himself; when he again +lifted his eyes to the grating he saw between two bars the pale, +emaciated, but still ardent face of the nun. Her complexion, where once +had bloomed the loveliness of youth,--where once there shone the happy +contrast of a pure, clear whiteness with the colors of a Bengal +rose,--now had the tints of a porcelain cup through which a feeble light +showed faintly. The beautiful hair of which this woman was once so proud +was shaven; a white band bound her brows and was wrapped around her +face. Her eyes, circled with dark shadows due to the austerities of her +life, glanced at moments with a feverish light, of which their habitual +calm was but the mask. In a word, of this woman nothing remained but +her soul. + +"Ah! you will leave this tomb--you, who are my life! You belonged to me; +you were not free to give yourself--not even to God. Did you not promise +to sacrifice all to the least of my commands? Will you now think me +worthy to claim that promise, if I tell you what I have done for your +sake? I have sought you through the whole world. For five years you have +been the thought of every instant, the occupation of every hour, of my +life. My friends--friends all-powerful as you know--have helped me to +search the convents of France, Spain, Italy, Sicily, America. My love +has deepened with every fruitless search. Many a long journey I have +taken on a false hope. I have spent my life and the strong beatings of +my heart about the walls of cloisters. I will not speak to you of a +fidelity unlimited. What is it?--nothing compared to the infinitude of +my love! If in other days your remorse was real, you cannot hesitate to +follow me now." + +"You forget that I am not free." + +"The duke is dead," he said hastily. + +Sister Theresa colored. "May Heaven receive him!" she said, with quick +emotion: "he was generous to me. But I did not speak of those ties: one +of my faults was my willingness to break them without scruple for you." + +"You speak of your vows," cried the general, frowning. "I little thought +that anything would weigh in your heart against our love. But do not +fear, Antoinette; I will obtain a brief from the Holy Father which will +absolve your vows. I will go to Rome; I will petition every earthly +power; if God himself came down from heaven I--" + +"Do not blaspheme!" + +"Do not fear how God would see it! Ah! I wish I were as sure that you +will leave these walls with me; that to-night--to-night, you would +embark at the feet of these rocks. Let us go to find happiness! I know +not where--at the ends of the earth! With me you will come back to life, +to health--in the shelter of my love!" + +"Do not say these things," replied the Sister; "you do not know what you +now are to me. I love you better than I once loved you. I pray to God +for you daily. I see you no longer with the eyes of my body. If you but +knew, Armand, the joy of being able, without shame, to spend myself upon +a pure love which God protects! You do not know the joy I have in +calling down the blessings of heaven upon your head. I never pray for +myself: God will do with me according to his will. But you--at the price +of my eternity I would win the assurance that you are happy in this +world, that you will be happy in another throughout the ages. My life +eternal is all that misfortunes have left me to give you. I have grown +old in grief; I am no longer young or beautiful. Ah! you would despise a +nun who returned to be a woman; no sentiment, not even maternal love, +could absolve her. What could you say to me that would shake the +unnumbered reflections my heart has made in five long years,--and which +have changed it, hollowed it, withered it? Ah! I should have given +something less sad to God!" + +"What can I say to you, dear Antoinette? I will say that I love you; +that affection, love, true love, the joy of living in a heart all +ours,--wholly ours, without one reservation,--is so rare, so difficult +to find, that I once doubted you; I put you to cruel tests. But to-day I +love and trust you with all the powers of my soul. If you will follow me +I will listen throughout life to no voice but thine. I will look on +no face--" + +"Silence, Armand! you shorten the sole moments which are given to us to +see each other here below." + +"Antoinette! will you follow me?" + +"I never leave you. I live in your heart--but with another power than +that of earthly pleasure, or vanity, or selfish joy. I live here for +you, pale and faded, in the bosom of God. If God is just, you will +be happy." + +"Phrases! you give me phrases! But if I will to have you pale and +faded,--if I cannot be happy unless you are with me? What! will you +forever place duties before my love? Shall I never be above all things +else in your heart? In the past you put the world, or self--I know not +what--above me; to-day it is God, it is my salvation. In this Sister +Theresa I recognize the duchess; ignorant of the joys of love, unfeeling +beneath a pretense of tenderness! You do not love me! you never +loved me!--" + +"Oh, my brother!--" + +"You will not leave this tomb. You love my soul, you say: well! you +shall destroy it forever and ever. I will kill myself--" + +"My Mother!" cried the nun, "I have lied to you; this man is my lover." + +The curtain fell. The general, stunned, heard the doors close with +violence. + +"She loves me still!" he cried, comprehending all that was revealed in +the cry of the nun. "I will find means to carry her away!" + +He left the island immediately, and returned to France. + +Translation copyrighted by Roberts Brothers. + + +'AN EPISODE UNDER THE TERROR' + +On the 22d of January, 1793, towards eight o'clock in the evening, an +old gentlewoman came down the sharp declivity of the Faubourg +Saint-Martin, which ends near the church of Saint-Laurent in Paris. Snow +had fallen throughout the day, so that footfalls could be scarcely +heard. The streets were deserted. The natural fear inspired by such +stillness was deepened by the terror to which all France was then +a prey. + +The old lady had met no one. Her failing sight hindered her from +perceiving in the distance a few pedestrians, sparsely scattered like +shadows, along the broad road of the faubourg. She was walking bravely +through the solitude as if her age were a talisman to guard her from +danger; but after passing the Rue des Morts she fancied that she heard +the firm, heavy tread of a man coming behind her. The thought seized her +mind that she had been listening to it unconsciously for some time. +Terrified at the idea of being followed, she tried to walk faster to +reach a lighted shop-window, and settle the doubt which thus assailed +her. When well beyond the horizontal rays of light thrown across the +pavement, she turned abruptly and saw a human form looming through the +fog. The indistinct glimpse was enough. She staggered for an instant +under the weight of terror, for she no longer doubted that this unknown +man had tracked her, step by step, from her home. The hope of escaping +such a spy lent strength to her feeble limbs. Incapable of reasoning, +she quickened her steps to a run, as if it were possible to escape a man +necessarily more agile than she. After running for a few minutes, she +reached the shop of a pastry-cook, entered it, and fell, rather than +sat, down on a chair which stood before the counter. + +As she lifted the creaking latch of the door, a young woman, who was at +work on a piece of embroidery, looked up and recognized through the +glass panes the antiquated mantle of purple silk which wrapped the old +lady, and hastened to pull open a drawer, as if to take from thence +something that she had to give her. The action and the expression of the +young woman not only implied a wish to get rid of the stranger, as of +some one most unwelcome, but she let fall an exclamation of impatience +at finding the drawer empty. Then, without looking at the lady, she came +rapidly from behind the counter, and went towards the back-shop to call +her husband, who appeared at once. + +"Where have you put ---- ----?" she asked him, mysteriously, calling his +attention to the old lady by a glance, and not concluding her sentence. + +Although the pastry-cook could see nothing but the enormous black-silk +hood circled with purple ribbons which the stranger wore, he +disappeared, with a glance at his wife which seemed to say, "Do you +suppose I should leave _that_ on your counter?" + +Surprised at the silence and immobility of her customer, the wife came +forward, and was seized with a sudden movement of compassion as well as +of curiosity when she looked at her. Though the complexion of the old +gentlewoman was naturally livid, like that of a person vowed to secret +austerities, it was easy to see that some recent alarm had spread an +unusual paleness over her features. Her head-covering was so arranged as +to hide the hair, whitened no doubt by age, for the cleanly collar of +her dress proved that she wore no powder. The concealment of this +natural adornment gave to her countenance a sort of conventual severity; +but its features were grave and noble. In former days the habits and +manners of people of quality were so different from those of all other +classes that it was easy to distinguish persons of noble birth. The +young shop-woman felt certain, therefore, that the stranger was a +_ci-devant_, and one who had probably belonged to the court. + +"Madame?" she said, with involuntary respect, forgetting that the title +was proscribed. + +The old lady made no answer. Her eyes were fixed on the glass of the +shop-window, as if some alarming object were painted upon it. + +"What is the matter, _citoyenne_?" asked the master of the +establishment, re-entering, and drawing the attention of his customer +to a little cardboard box covered with blue paper, which he held out +to her. + +"It is nothing, nothing, my friends," she answered in a gentle voice, as +she raised her eyes to give the man a thankful look. Seeing a phrygian +cap upon his head, a cry escaped her:--"Ah! it is you who have +betrayed me!" + +The young woman and her husband replied by a deprecating gesture of +horror which caused the unknown lady to blush, either for her harsh +suspicion or from the relief of feeling it unjust. + +"Excuse me," she said, with childlike sweetness. Then taking a gold +_louis_ from her pocket, she offered it to the pastry-cook. "Here is the +sum we agreed upon," she added. + +There is a poverty which poor people quickly divine. The shopkeeper and +his wife looked at each other with a glance at the old lady that +conveyed a mutual thought. The _louis_ was doubtless her last. The hands +of the poor woman trembled as she offered it, and her eyes rested upon +it sadly, yet not with avarice. She seemed to feel the full extent of +her sacrifice. Hunger and want were traced upon her features in lines as +legible as those of timidity and ascetic habits. Her clothing showed +vestiges of luxury. It was of silk, well-worn; the mantle was clean, +though faded; the laces carefully darned; in short, here were the rags +of opulence. The two shopkeepers, divided between pity and +self-interest, began to soothe their conscience with words:-- + +"_Citoyenne_, you seem very feeble--" + +"Would Madame like to take something?" asked the wife, cutting short her +husband's speech. + +"We have some very good broth," he added. + +"It is so cold, perhaps Madame is chilled by her walk; but you can rest +here and warm yourself." + +"The devil is not so black as he is painted," cried the husband. + +Won by the kind tone of these words, the old lady admitted that she had +been followed by a man and was afraid of going home alone. + +"Is that all?" said the man with the phrygian cap. "Wait for me, +_citoyenne_." + +He gave the _louis_ to his wife. Then moved by a species of gratitude +which slips into the shopkeeping soul when its owner receives an +exorbitant price for an article of little value, he went to put on his +uniform as a National guard, took his hat, slung on his sabre, and +reappeared under arms. But the wife meantime had reflected. Reflection, +as often happens in many hearts, had closed the open hand of her +benevolence. Uneasy, and alarmed lest her husband should be mixed up in +some dangerous affair, she pulled him by the flap of his coat, intending +to stop him; but the worthy man, obeying the impulse of charity, +promptly offered to escort the poor lady to her home. + +"It seems that the man who has given her this fright is prowling +outside," said his wife nervously. + +"I am afraid he is," said the old lady, with much simplicity. + +"Suppose he should be a spy. Perhaps it is a conspiracy. Don't go. Take +back the box." These words, whispered in the pastry-cook's ear by the +wife of his bosom, chilled the sudden compassion that had warmed him. + +"Well, well, I will just say two words to the man and get rid of him," +he said, opening the door and hurrying out. + +The old gentlewoman, passive as a child and half paralyzed with fear, +sat down again. The shopkeeper almost instantly reappeared; but his +face, red by nature and still further scorched by the fires of his +bakery, had suddenly turned pale, and he was in the grasp of such terror +that his legs shook and his eyes were like those of a drunken man. + +"Miserable aristocrat!" he cried, furiously, "do you want to cut off our +heads? Go out from here; let me see your heels, and don't dare to come +back; don't expect me to supply you with the means of conspiracy!" + +So saying, the pastry-cook endeavored to get back the little box which +the old lady had already slipped into one of her pockets. Hardly had the +bold hands of the shopkeeper touched her clothing, than, preferring to +encounter danger with no protection but that of God rather than lose the +thing she had come to buy, she recovered the agility of youth, and +sprang to the door, through which she disappeared abruptly, leaving the +husband and wife amazed and trembling. + +As soon as the poor lady found herself alone in the street she began to +walk rapidly; but her strength soon gave way, for she once more heard +the snow creaking under the footsteps of the spy as he trod heavily upon +it. She was obliged to stop short: the man stopped also. She dared not +speak to him, nor even look at him; either because of her terror, or +from some lack of natural intelligence. Presently she continued her walk +slowly; the man measured his step by hers, and kept at the same distance +behind her; he seemed to move like her shadow. Nine o'clock struck as +the silent couple repassed the church of Saint-Laurent. It is the nature +of all souls, even the weakest, to fall back into quietude after moments +of violent agitation; for manifold as our feelings may be, our bodily +powers are limited. Thus the old lady, receiving no injury from her +apparent persecutor, began to think that he might be a secret friend +watching to protect her. She gathered up in her mind the circumstances +attending other apparitions of the mysterious stranger as if to find +plausible grounds for this consoling opinion, and took pleasure in +crediting him with good rather than sinister intentions. Forgetting the +terror he had inspired in the pastry-cook, she walked on with a firmer +step towards the upper part of the Faubourg Saint-Martin. + +At the end of half an hour she reached a house standing close to the +junction of the chief street of the faubourg with the street leading out +to the Barrière de Pantin. The place is to this day one of the loneliest +in Paris. The north wind blowing from Belleville and the Buttes Chaumont +whistled among the houses, or rather cottages, scattered through the +sparsely inhabited little valley, where the inclosures are fenced with +walls built of mud and refuse bones. This dismal region seems the +natural home of poverty and despair. The man who was intent on following +the poor creature who had had the courage to thread these dark and +silent streets seemed struck with the spectacle they offered. He stopped +as if reflecting, and stood in a hesitating attitude, dimly visible by a +street lantern whose flickering light scarcely pierced the fog. Fear +gave eyes to the old gentlewoman, who now fancied that she saw something +sinister in the features of this unknown man. All her terrors revived, +and profiting by the curious hesitation that had seized him, she glided +like a shadow to the doorway of the solitary dwelling, touched a spring, +and disappeared with phantasmagoric rapidity. + +The man, standing motionless, gazed at the house, which was, as it were, +a type of the wretched buildings of the neighborhood. The tottering +hovel, built of porous stone in rough blocks, was coated with yellow +plaster much cracked, and looked ready to fall before a gust of wind. +The roof, of brown tiles covered with moss, had sunk in several places, +and gave the impression that the weight of snow might break it down at +any moment. Each story had three windows whose frames, rotted by +dampness and shrunken by the heat of the sun, told that the outer cold +penetrated to the chambers. The lonely house seemed like an ancient +tower that time had forgotten to destroy. A faint light gleamed from the +garret windows, which were irregularly cut in the roof; but the rest of +the house was in complete obscurity. The old woman went up the rough and +clumsy stairs with difficulty, holding fast to a rope which took the +place of baluster. She knocked furtively at the door of a lodging under +the roof, and sat hastily down on a chair which an old man offered her. + +"Hide! hide yourself!" she cried. "Though we go out so seldom, our +errands are known, our steps are watched--" + +"What has happened?" asked another old woman sitting near the fire. + +"The man who has hung about the house since yesterday followed me +to-night." + +At these words the occupants of the hovel looked at each other with +terror in their faces. The old man was the least moved of the three, +possibly because he was the one in greatest danger. Under the pressure +of misfortune or the yoke of persecution a man of courage begins, as it +were, by preparing for the sacrifice of himself: he looks upon his days +as so many victories won from fate. The eyes of the two women, fixed +upon the old man, showed plainly that he alone was the object of their +extreme anxiety. + +"Why distrust God, my sisters?" he said, in a hollow but impressive +voice. "We chanted praises to his name amid the cries of victims and +assassins at the convent. If it pleased him to save me from that +butchery, it was doubtless for some destiny which I shall accept without +a murmur. God protects his own, and disposes of them according to his +will. It is of you, not of me, that we should think." + +"No," said one of the women: "what is our life in comparison with that +of a priest?" + +"Ever since the day when I found myself outside of the Abbaye des +Chelles," said the nun beside the fire, "I have given myself up +for dead." + +"Here," said the one who had just come in, holding out the little box to +the priest, "here are the sacramental wafers--Listen!" she cried, +interrupting herself. "I hear some one on the stairs." + +At these words all three listened intently. The noise ceased. + +"Do not be frightened," said the priest, "even if some one asks to +enter. A person on whose fidelity we can safely rely has taken measures +to cross the frontier, and he will soon call here for letters which I +have written to the Duc de Langeais and the Marquis de Beauséant, +advising them as to the measures they must take to get you out of this +dreadful country, and save you from the misery or the death you would +otherwise undergo here." + +"Shall you not follow us?" said the two nuns softly, but in a tone of +despair. + +"My place is near the victims," said the priest, simply. + +The nuns were silent, looking at him with devout admiration. + +"Sister Martha," he said, addressing the nun who had fetched the wafers, +"this messenger must answer '_Fiat voluntas_' to the word '_Hosanna_.'" + +"There is some one on the stairway," exclaimed the other nun, hastily +opening a hiding-place burrowed at the edge of the roof. + +This time it was easy to hear the steps of a man sounding through the +deep silence on the rough stairs, which were caked with patches of +hardened mud. The priest slid with difficulty into a narrow +hiding-place, and the nuns hastily threw articles of apparel over him. + +"You can shut me in, Sister Agatha," he said, in a smothered voice. + +He was scarcely hidden when three knocks upon the door made the sisters +tremble and consult each other with their eyes, for they dared not +speak. Forty years' separation from the world had made them like plants +of a hot-house which wilt when brought into the outer air. Accustomed to +the life of a convent, they could not conceive of any other; and when +one morning their bars and gratings were flung down, they had shuddered +at finding themselves free. It is easy to imagine the species of +imbecility which the events of the Revolution, enacted before their +eyes, had produced in these innocent souls. Quite incapable of +harmonizing their conventual ideas with the exigencies of ordinary life, +not even comprehending their own situation, they were like children who +had always been cared for, and who now, torn from their maternal +providence, had taken to prayers as other children take to tears. So it +happened that in presence of immediate danger they were dumb and +passive, and could think of no other defence than Christian resignation. + +The man who sought to enter interpreted their silence as he pleased; he +suddenly opened the door and showed himself. The two nuns trembled when +they recognized the individual who for some days had watched the house +and seemed to make inquiries about its inmates. They stood quite still +and looked at him with uneasy curiosity, like the children of savages +examining a being of another sphere. The stranger was very tall and +stout, but nothing in his manner or appearance denoted that he was a bad +man. He copied the immobility of the sisters and stood motionless, +letting his eye rove slowly round the room. + +Two bundles of straw placed on two planks served as beds for the nuns. A +table was in the middle of the room; upon it a copper candlestick, a few +plates, three knives, and a round loaf of bread. The fire on the hearth +was very low, and a few sticks of wood piled in a corner of the room +testified to the poverty of the occupants. The walls, once covered with +a coat of paint now much defaced, showed the wretched condition of the +roof through which the rain had trickled, making a network of brown +stains. A sacred relic, saved no doubt from the pillage of the Abbaye +des Chelles, adorned the mantel-shelf of the chimney. Three chairs, two +coffers, and a broken chest of drawers completed the furniture of the +room. A doorway cut near the fireplace showed there was probably an +inner chamber. + +The inventory of this poor cell was soon made by the individual who had +presented himself under such alarming auspices. An expression of pity +crossed his features, and as he threw a kind glance upon the frightened +women he seemed as much embarrassed as they. The strange silence in +which they all three stood and faced each other lasted but a moment; for +the stranger seemed to guess the moral weakness and inexperience of the +poor helpless creatures, and he said, in a voice which he strove to +render gentle, "I have not come as an enemy, _citoyennes_." + +Then he paused, but resumed:--"My sisters, if harm should ever happen to +you, be sure that I shall not have contributed to it. I have come to ask +a favor of you." + +They still kept silence. + +"If I ask too much--if I annoy you--I will go away; but believe me, I am +heartily devoted to you, and if there is any service that I could +render you, you may employ me without fear. I, and I alone, perhaps, am +above law--since there is no longer a king." + +The ring of truth in these words induced Sister Agatha, a nun belonging +to the ducal house of Langeais, and whose manners indicated that she had +once lived amid the festivities of life and breathed the air of courts, +to point to a chair as if she asked their guest to be seated. The +unknown gave vent to an expression of joy, mingled with melancholy, as +he understood this gesture. He waited respectfully till the sisters were +seated, and then obeyed it. + +"You have given shelter," he said, "to a venerable priest not sworn in +by the Republic, who escaped miraculously from the massacre at the +Convent of the Carmelites." + +"_Hosanna_," said Sister Agatha, suddenly interrupting the stranger, and +looking at him with anxious curiosity. + +"That is not his name, I think," he answered. + +"But, Monsieur, we have no priest here," cried Sister Martha, hastily, +"and--" + +"Then you should take better precautions," said the unknown gently, +stretching his arm to the table and picking up a breviary. "I do not +think you understand Latin, and--" + +He stopped short, for the extreme distress painted on the faces of the +poor nuns made him fear he had gone too far; they trembled violently, +and their eyes filled with tears. + +"Do not fear," he said; "I know the name of your guest, and yours also. +During the last three days I have learned your poverty, and your great +devotion to the venerable Abbé of--" + +"Hush!" exclaimed Sister Agatha, ingenuously putting a finger on her +lip. + +"You see, my sisters, that if I had the horrible design of betraying +you, I might have accomplished it again and again." + +As he uttered these words the priest emerged from his prison and +appeared in the middle of the room. + +"I cannot believe, Monsieur," he said courteously, "that you are one of +our persecutors. I trust you. What is it you desire of me?" + +The saintly confidence of the old man, and the nobility of mind +imprinted on his countenance, might have disarmed even an assassin. He +who thus mysteriously agitated this home of penury and resignation stood +contemplating the group before him; then he addressed the priest in a +trustful tone, with these words:-- + +"My father, I came to ask you to celebrate a mass for the repose of the +soul--of--of a sacred being whose body can never lie in holy ground." + +The priest involuntarily shuddered. The nuns, not as yet understanding +who it was of whom the unknown man had spoken, stood with their necks +stretched and their faces turned towards the speakers, in an attitude of +eager curiosity. The ecclesiastic looked intently at the stranger; +unequivocal anxiety was marked on every feature, and his eyes offered an +earnest and even ardent prayer. + +"Yes," said the priest at length. "Return here at midnight, and I shall +be ready to celebrate the only funeral service that we are able to offer +in expiation of the crime of which you speak." + +The unknown shivered; a joy both sweet and solemn seemed to rise in his +soul above some secret grief. Respectfully saluting the priest and the +two saintly women, he disappeared with a mute gratitude which these +generous souls knew well how to interpret. + +Two hours later the stranger returned, knocked cautiously at the door of +the garret, and was admitted by Mademoiselle de Langeais, who led him to +the inner chamber of the humble refuge, where all was in readiness for +the ceremony. Between two flues of the chimney the nuns had placed the +old chest of drawers, whose broken edges were concealed by a magnificent +altar-cloth of green moiré. A large ebony and ivory crucifix hanging on +the discolored wall stood out in strong relief from the surrounding +bareness, and necessarily caught the eye. Four slender little tapers, +which the sisters had contrived to fasten to the altar with sealing-wax, +threw a pale glimmer dimly reflected by the yellow wall. These feeble +rays scarcely lit up the rest of the chamber, but as their light fell +upon the sacred objects it seemed a halo falling from heaven upon the +bare and undecorated altar. + +The floor was damp. The attic roof, which sloped sharply on both sides +of the room, was full of chinks through which the wind penetrated. +Nothing could be less stately, yet nothing was ever more solemn than +this lugubrious ceremony. Silence so deep that some far-distant cry +could have pierced it, lent a sombre majesty to the nocturnal scene. The +grandeur of the occasion contrasted vividly with the poverty of its +circumstances, and roused a feeling of religious terror. On either side +of the altar the old nuns, kneeling on the tiled floor and taking no +thought of its mortal dampness, were praying in concert with the priest, +who, robed in his pontifical vestments, placed upon the altar a golden +chalice incrusted with precious stones,--a sacred vessel rescued, no +doubt, from the pillage of the Abbaye des Chelles. Close to this vase, +which was a gift of royal munificence, the bread and wine of the +consecrated sacrifice were contained in two glass tumblers scarcely +worthy of the meanest tavern. In default of a missal the priest had +placed his breviary on a corner of the altar. A common earthenware +platter was provided for the washing of those innocent hands, pure and +unspotted with blood. All was majestic and yet paltry; poor but noble; +profane and holy in one. + +The unknown man knelt piously between the sisters. Suddenly, as he +caught sight of the crape upon the chalice and the crucifix,--for in +default of other means of proclaiming the object of this funeral rite +the priest had put God himself into mourning,--the mysterious visitant +was seized by some all-powerful recollection, and drops of sweat +gathered on his brow. The four silent actors in this scene looked at +each other with mysterious sympathy; their souls, acting one upon +another, communicated to each the feelings of all, blending them into +the one emotion of religious pity. It seemed as though their thought had +evoked from the dead the sacred martyr whose body was devoured by +quicklime, but whose shade rose up before them in royal majesty. They +were celebrating a funeral Mass without the remains of the deceased. +Beneath these rafters and disjointed laths four Christian souls were +interceding with God for a king of France, and making his burial without +a coffin. It was the purest of all devotions; an act of wonderful +loyalty accomplished without one thought of self. Doubtless in the eyes +of God it was the cup of cold water that weighed in the balance against +many virtues. The whole of monarchy was there in the prayers of the +priest and the two poor women; but also it may have been that the +Revolution was present likewise, in the person of the strange being +whose face betrayed the remorse that led him to make this solemn +offering of a vast repentance. + +Instead of pronouncing the Latin words, "Introibo ad altare Dei" etc., +the priest, with divine intuition, glanced at his three assistants, who +represented all Christian France, and said, in words which effaced the +penury and meanness of the hovel, "We enter now into the sanctuary +of God." + +At these words, uttered with penetrating unction, a solemn awe seized +the participants. Beneath the dome of St. Peter's in Rome, God had never +seemed more majestic to man than he did now in this refuge of poverty +and to the eyes of these Christians,--so true is it that between man and +God all mediation is unneeded, for his glory descends from himself +alone. The fervent piety of the nameless man was unfeigned, and the +feeling that held these four servants of God and the king was unanimous. +The sacred words echoed like celestial music amid the silence. There was +a moment when the unknown broke down and wept: it was at the Pater +Noster, to which the priest added a Latin clause which the stranger +doubtless comprehended and applied,--"Et remitte scelus regicidis sicut +Ludovicus eis remisit semetipse" (And forgive the regicides even as +Louis XVI. himself forgave them). The two nuns saw the tears coursing +down the manly cheeks of their visitant, and dropping fast on the +tiled floor. + +The Office of the Dead was recited. The "Domine salvum fac regem," sung +in low tones, touched the hearts of these faithful royalists as they +thought of the infant king, now captive in the hands of his enemies, for +whom this prayer was offered. The unknown shuddered; perhaps he feared +an impending crime in which he would be called to take an +unwilling part. + +When the service was over, the priest made a sign to the nuns, who +withdrew to the outer room. As soon as he was alone with the unknown, +the old man went up to him with gentle sadness of manner, and said in +the tone of a father,-- + +"My son, if you have steeped your hands in the blood of the martyr king, +confess yourself to me. There is no crime which, in the eyes of God, is +not washed out by a repentance as deep and sincere as yours appears +to be." + +At the first words of the ecclesiastic an involuntary motion of terror +escaped the stranger; but he quickly recovered himself, and looked at +the astonished priest with calm assurance. + +"My father," he said, in a voice that nevertheless trembled, "no one is +more innocent than I of the blood shed--" + +"I believe it!" said the priest. + +He paused a moment, during which he examined afresh his penitent; then, +persisting in the belief that he was one of those timid members of the +Assembly who sacrificed the inviolate and sacred head to save their own, +he resumed in a grave voice:-- + +"Reflect, my son, that something more than taking no part in that great +crime is needed to absolve from guilt. Those who kept their sword in the +scabbard when they might have defended their king have a heavy account +to render to the King of kings. Oh, yes," added the venerable man, +moving his head from right to left with an expressive motion; "yes, +heavy, indeed! for, standing idle, they made themselves the accomplices +of a horrible transgression." + +"Do you believe," asked the stranger, in a surprised tone, "that even an +indirect participation will be punished? The soldier ordered to form the +line--do you think he was guilty?" + +The priest hesitated. Glad of the dilemma that placed this puritan of +royalty between the dogma of passive obedience, which according to the +partisans of monarchy should dominate the military system, and the other +dogma, equally imperative, which consecrates the person of the king, the +stranger hastened to accept the hesitation of the priest as a solution +of the doubts that seemed to trouble him. Then, so as not to allow the +old Jansenist time for further reflection, he said quickly:-- + +"I should blush to offer you any fee whatever in acknowledgment of the +funeral service you have just celebrated for the repose of the king's +soul and for the discharge of my conscience. We can only pay for +inestimable things by offerings which are likewise beyond all price. +Deign to accept, Monsieur, the gift which I now make to you of a holy +relic; the day may come when you will know its value." + +As he said these words he gave the ecclesiastic a little box of light +weight. The priest took it as it were involuntarily; for the solemn tone +in which the words were uttered, and the awe with which the stranger +held the box, struck him with fresh amazement. They re-entered the outer +room, where the two nuns were waiting for them. + +"You are living," said the unknown, "in a house whose owner, Mucius +Scaevola, the plasterer who lives on the first floor, is noted in the +Section for his patriotism. He is, however, secretly attached to the +Bourbons. He was formerly huntsman to Monseigneur the Prince de Conti, +to whom he owes everything. As long as you stay in this house you are in +greater safety than you can be in any other part of France. Remain +here. Pious souls will watch over you and supply your wants; and you +can await without danger the coming of better days. A year hence, on the +21st of January" (as he uttered these last words he could not repress an +involuntary shudder), "I shall return to celebrate once more the Mass of +expiation--" + +He could not end the sentence. Bowing to the silent occupants of the +garret, he cast a last look upon the signs of their poverty and +disappeared. + +To the two simple-minded women this event had all the interest of a +romance. As soon as the venerable abbé told them of the mysterious gift +so solemnly offered by the stranger, they placed the box upon the table, +and the three anxious faces, faintly lighted by a tallow-candle, +betrayed an indescribable curiosity. Mademoiselle de Langeais opened the +box and took from it a handkerchief of extreme fineness, stained with +sweat. As she unfolded it they saw dark stains. + +"That is blood!" exclaimed the priest. + +"It is marked with the royal crown!" cried the other nun. + +The sisters let fall the precious relic with gestures of horror. To +these ingenuous souls the mystery that wrapped their unknown visitor +became inexplicable, and the priest from that day forth forbade himself +to search for its solution. + +The three prisoners soon perceived that, in spite of the Terror, a +powerful arm was stretched over them. First, they received firewood and +provisions; next, the sisters guessed that a woman was associated with +their protector, for linen and clothing came to them mysteriously, and +enabled them to go out without danger of observation from the +aristocratic fashion of the only garments they had been able to secure; +finally, Mucius Scaevola brought them certificates of citizenship. +Advice as to the necessary means of insuring the safety of the venerable +priest often came to them from unexpected quarters, and proved so +singularly opportune that it was quite evident it could only have been +given by some one in possession of state secrets. In spite of the famine +which then afflicted Paris, they found daily at the door of their hovel +rations of white bread, laid there by invisible hands. They thought they +recognized in Mucius Scaevola the agent of these mysterious +benefactions, which were always timely and intelligent; but the noble +occupants of the poor garret had no doubt whatever that the unknown +individual who had celebrated the midnight Mass on the 22d of January, +1793, was their secret protector. They added to their daily prayers a +special prayer for him; night and day these pious hearts made +supplication for his happiness, his prosperity, his redemption. They +prayed that God would keep his feet from snares and save him from his +enemies, and grant him a long and peaceful life. + +Their gratitude, renewed as it were daily, was necessarily mingled with +curiosity that grew keener day by day. The circumstances attending the +appearance of the stranger were a ceaseless topic of conversation and of +endless conjecture, and soon became a benefit of a special kind, from +the occupation and distraction of mind which was thus produced. They +resolved that the stranger should not be allowed to escape the +expression of their gratitude when he came to commemorate the next sad +anniversary of the death of Louis XVI. + +That night, so impatiently awaited, came at length. At midnight the +heavy steps resounded up the wooden stairway. The room was prepared for +the service; the altar was dressed. This time the sisters opened the +door and hastened to light the entrance. Mademoiselle de Langeais even +went down a few stairs that she might catch the first glimpse of their +benefactor. + +"Come!" she said, in a trembling and affectionate voice. "Come, you are +expected!" + +The man raised his head, gave the nun a gloomy look, and made no answer. +She felt as though an icy garment had fallen upon her, and she kept +silence. At his aspect gratitude and curiosity died within their hearts. +He may have been less cold, less taciturn, less terrible than he seemed +to these poor souls, whose own emotions led them to expect a flow of +friendship from his. They saw that this mysterious being was resolved to +remain a stranger to them, and they acquiesced with resignation. But the +priest fancied he saw a smile, quickly repressed, upon the stranger's +lip as he saw the preparations made to receive him. He heard the Mass +and prayed, but immediately disappeared, refusing in a few courteous +words the invitation given by Mademoiselle de Langeais to remain and +partake of the humble collation they had prepared for him. + +After the 9th Thermidor the nuns and the Abbé de Marolles were able to +go about Paris without incurring any danger. The first visit of the old +priest was to a perfumery at the sign of the "Queen of Flowers," kept +by the citizen and _citoyenne_ Ragon, formerly perfumers to the Court, +well known for their faithfulness to the royal family, and employed by +the Vendéens as a channel of communication with the princes and royal +committees in Paris. The abbé, dressed as the times required, was +leaving the doorstep of the shop, situated between the church of +Saint-Roch and the Rue des Fondeurs, when a great crowd coming down the +Rue Saint-Honoré hindered him from advancing. + +"What is it?" he asked of Madame Ragon. + +"Oh, nothing!" she answered. "It is the cart and the executioner going +to the Place Louis XV. Ah, we saw enough of that last year! but now, +four days after the anniversary of the 21st of January, we can look at +the horrid procession without distress." + +"Why so?" asked the abbé. "What you say is not Christian." + +"But this is the execution of the accomplices of Robespierre. They have +fought it off as long as they could, but now they are going in their +turn where they have sent so many innocent people." + +The crowd which filled the Rue Saint-Honoré passed on like a wave. Above +the sea of heads the Abbé de Marolles, yielding to an impulse, saw, +standing erect in the cart, the stranger who three days before had +assisted for the second time in the Mass of commemoration. + +"Who is that?" he asked; "the one standing--" + +"That is the executioner," answered Monsieur Ragon, calling the man by +his monarchical name. + +"Help! help!" cried Madame Ragon. "Monsieur l'Abbé is fainting!" + +She caught up a flask of vinegar and brought him quickly back to +consciousness. + +"He must have given me," said the old priest, "the handkerchief with +which the king wiped his brow as he went to his martyrdom. Poor man! +that steel knife had a heart when all France had none!" + +The perfumers thought the words of the priest were an effect of +delirium. + +Translation copyrighted by Roberts Brothers. + + +A PASSION IN THE DESERT + +"The sight was fearful!" she exclaimed, as we left the menagerie of +Monsieur Martin. + +She had been watching that daring speculator as he went through his +wonderful performance in the den of the hyena. + +"How is it possible," she continued, "to tame those animals so as to be +certain that he can trust them?" + +"You think it a problem," I answered, interrupting her, "and yet it is a +natural fact." + +"Oh!" she cried, an incredulous smile flickering on her lip. + +"Do you think that beasts are devoid of passions?" I asked. "Let me +assure you that we teach them all the vices and virtues of our own state +of civilization." + +She looked at me in amazement. + +"The first time I saw Monsieur Martin," I added, "I exclaimed, as you +do, with surprise. I happened to be sitting beside an old soldier whose +right leg was amputated, and whose appearance had attracted my notice as +I entered the building. His face, stamped with the scars of battle, wore +the undaunted look of a veteran of the wars of Napoleon. Moreover, the +old hero had a frank and joyous manner which attracts me wherever I meet +it. He was doubtless one of those old campaigners whom nothing can +surprise, who find something to laugh at in the last contortions of a +comrade, and will bury a friend or rifle his body gayly; challenging +bullets with indifference; making short shrift for themselves or others; +and fraternizing, as a usual thing, with the devil. After looking very +attentively at the proprietor of the menagerie as he entered the den, my +companion curled his lip with that expression of satirical contempt +which well-informed men sometimes put on to mark the difference between +themselves and dupes. As I uttered my exclamation of surprise at the +coolness and courage of Monsieur Martin, the old soldier smiled, shook +his head, and said with a knowing glance, 'An old story!' + +"'How do you mean an old story?' I asked. 'If you could explain the +secret of this mysterious power, I should be greatly obliged to you.' + +"After a while, during which we became better acquainted, we went to +dine at the first cafe we could find after leaving the menagerie. A +bottle of champagne with our dessert brightened the old man's +recollections and made them singularly vivid. He related to me a +circumstance in his early history which proved that he had ample cause +to pronounce Monsieur Martin's performance 'an old story.'" + +When we reached her house, she was so persuasive and captivating, and +made me so many pretty promises, that I consented to write down for her +benefit the story told me by the old hero. On the following day I sent +her this episode of a historical epic, which might be entitled, 'The +French in Egypt.' + + * * * * * + +At the time of General Desaix's expedition to Upper Egypt a Provençal +soldier, who had fallen into the hands of the Maugrabins, was marched by +those tireless Arabs across the desert which lies beyond the cataracts +of the Nile. To put sufficient distance between themselves and the +French army, the Maugrabins made a forced march and did not halt until +after nightfall. They then camped about a well shaded with palm-trees, +near which they had previously buried a stock of provisions. Not +dreaming that the thought of escape could enter their captive's mind, +they merely bound his wrists, and lay down to sleep themselves, after +eating a few dates and giving their horses a feed of barley. When the +bold Provençal saw his enemies too soundly asleep to watch him, he used +his teeth to pick up a scimitar, with which, steadying the blade by +means of his knees, he contrived to cut through the cord which bound his +hands, and thus recovered his liberty. He at once seized a carbine and a +poniard, took the precaution to lay in a supply of dates, a small bag of +barley, some powder and ball, buckled on the scimitar, mounted one of +the horses, and spurred him in the direction where he supposed the +French army to be. Impatient to meet the outposts, he pressed the horse, +which was already wearied, so severely that the poor animal fell dead +with his flanks torn, leaving the Frenchman alone in the midst of +the desert. + +After marching for a long time through the sand with the dogged courage +of an escaping galley-slave, the soldier was forced to halt, as darkness +drew on: for his utter weariness compelled him to rest, though the +exquisite sky of an eastern night might well have tempted him to +continue the journey. Happily he had reached a slight elevation, at the +top of which a few palm-trees shot upward, whose leafage, seen from a +long distance against the sky, had helped to sustain his hopes. His +fatigue was so great that he threw himself down on a block of granite, +cut by Nature into the shape of a camp-bed, and slept heavily, without +taking the least precaution to protect himself while asleep. He accepted +the loss of his life as inevitable, and his last waking thought was one +of regret for having left the Maugrabins, whose nomad life began to +charm him now that he was far away from them and from every other hope +of succor. + +He was awakened by the sun, whose pitiless beams falling vertically upon +the granite rock produced an intolerable heat. The Provençal had +ignorantly flung himself down in a contrary direction to the shadows +thrown by the verdant and majestic fronds of the palm-trees. He gazed at +these solitary monarchs and shuddered. They recalled to his mind the +graceful shafts, crowned with long weaving leaves, which distinguish the +Saracenic columns of the cathedral of Arles. The thought overcame him, +and when, after counting the trees, he threw his eyes upon the scene +around him, an agony of despair convulsed his soul. He saw a limitless +ocean. The sombre sands of the desert stretched out till lost to sight +in all directions; they glittered with dark lustre like a steel blade +shining in the sun. He could not tell if it were an ocean or a chain of +lakes that lay mirrored before him. A hot vapor swept in waves above the +surface of this heaving continent. The sky had the Oriental glow of +translucent purity, which disappoints because it leaves nothing for the +imagination to desire. The heavens and the earth were both on fire. +Silence added its awful and desolate majesty. Infinitude, immensity +pressed down upon the soul on every side; not a cloud in the sky, not a +breath in the air, not a rift on the breast of the sand, which was +ruffled only with little ridges scarcely rising above its surface. Far +as the eye could reach the horizon fell away into space, marked by a +slender line, slim as the edge of a sabre,--like as in summer seas a +thread of light parts this earth from the heaven it meets. + +The Provençal clasped the trunk of a palm-tree as if it were the body of +a friend. Sheltered from the sun by its straight and slender shadow, he +wept; and presently sitting down he remained motionless, contemplating +with awful dread the implacable Nature stretched out before him. He +cried aloud, as if to tempt the solitude to answer him. His voice, lost +in the hollows of the hillock, sounded afar with a thin resonance that +returned no echo; the echo came from the soldier's heart. He was +twenty-two years old, and he loaded his carbine. + +"Time enough!" he muttered, as he put the liberating weapon on the sand +beneath him. + +Gazing by turns at the burnished blackness of the sand and the blue +expanse of the sky, the soldier dreamed of France. He smelt in fancy the +gutters of Paris; he remembered the towns through which he had passed, +the faces of his comrades, and the most trifling incidents of his life. +His southern imagination saw the pebbles of his own Provence in the +undulating play of the heated air, as it seemed to roughen the +far-reaching surface of the desert. Dreading the dangers of this cruel +mirage, he went down the little hill on the side opposite to that by +which he had gone up the night before. His joy was great when he +discovered a natural grotto, formed by the immense blocks of granite +which made a foundation for the rising ground. The remnants of a mat +showed that the place had once been inhabited, and close to the entrance +were a few palm-trees loaded with fruit. The instinct which binds men to +life woke in his heart. He now hoped to live until some Maugrabin should +pass that way; possibly he might even hear the roar of cannon, for +Bonaparte was at that time overrunning Egypt. Encouraged by these +thoughts, the Frenchman shook down a cluster of the ripe fruit under the +weight of which the palms were bending; and as he tasted this +unhoped-for manna, he thanked the former inhabitant of the grotto for +the cultivation of the trees, which the rich and luscious flesh of the +fruit amply attested. Like a true Provençal, he passed from the gloom of +despair to a joy that was half insane. He ran back to the top of the +hill, and busied himself for the rest of the day in cutting down one of +the sterile trees which had been his shelter the night before. + +Some vague recollection made him think of the wild beasts of the desert, +and foreseeing that they would come to drink at a spring which bubbled +through the sand at the foot of the rock, he resolved to protect his +hermitage by felling a tree across the entrance. Notwithstanding his +eagerness, and the strength which the fear of being attacked while +asleep gave to his muscles, he was unable to cut the palm-tree in pieces +during the day; but he succeeded in bringing it down. Towards evening +the king of the desert fell; and the noise of his fall, echoing far, +was like a moan from the breast of Solitude. The soldier shuddered, as +though he had heard a voice predicting evil. But, like an heir who does +not long mourn a parent, he stripped from the beautiful tree the arching +green fronds--its poetical adornment--and made a bed of them in his +refuge. Then, tired with his work and by the heat of the day, he fell +asleep beneath the red vault of the grotto. + +In the middle of the night his sleep was broken by a strange noise. He +sat up; the deep silence that reigned everywhere enabled him to hear the +alternating rhythm of a respiration whose savage vigor could not belong +to a human being. A terrible fear, increased by the darkness, by the +silence, by the rush of his waking fancies, numbed his heart. He felt +the contraction of his hair, which rose on end as his eyes, dilating to +their full strength, beheld through the darkness two faint amber lights. +At first he thought them an optical delusion; but by degrees the +clearness of the night enabled him to distinguish objects in the grotto, +and he saw, within two feet of him, an enormous animal lying at rest. + +Was it a lion? Was it a tiger? Was it a crocodile? The Provençal had not +enough education to know in what sub-species he ought to class the +intruder; but his terror was all the greater because his ignorance made +it vague. He endured the cruel trial of listening, of striving to catch +the peculiarties of this breathing without losing one of its +inflections, and without daring to make the slightest movement. A strong +odor, like that exhaled by foxes, only far more pungent and penetrating, +filled the grotto. When the soldier had tasted it, so to speak, by the +nose, his fear became terror; he could no longer doubt the nature of the +terrible companion whose royal lair he had taken for a bivouac. Before +long, the reflection of the moon, as it sank to the horizon, lighted up +the den and gleamed upon the shining, spotted skin of a panther. + +The lion of Egypt lay asleep, curled up like a dog, the peaceable +possessor of a kennel at the gate of a mansion; its eyes, which had +opened for a moment, were now closed; its head was turned towards the +Frenchman. A hundred conflicting thoughts rushed through the mind of the +panther's prisoner. Should he kill it with a shot from his musket? But +ere the thought was formed, he saw there was no room to take aim; the +muzzle would have gone beyond the animal. Suppose he were to wake it? +The fear kept him motionless. As he heard the beating of his heart +through the dead silence, he cursed the strong pulsations of his +vigorous blood, lest they should disturb the sleep which gave him time +to think and plan for safety. Twice he put his hand on his scimitar, +with the idea of striking off the head of his enemy; but the difficulty +of cutting through the close-haired skin made him renounce the bold +attempt. Suppose he missed his aim? It would, he knew, be certain death. +He preferred the chances of a struggle, and resolved to await the dawn. +It was not long in coming. As daylight broke, the Frenchman was able to +examine the animal. Its muzzle was stained with blood. "It has eaten a +good meal," thought he, not caring whether the feast were human flesh or +not; "it will not be hungry when it wakes." + +It was a female. The fur on the belly and on the thighs was of sparkling +whiteness. Several little spots like velvet made pretty bracelets round +her paws. The muscular tail was also white, but it terminated with black +rings. The fur of the back, yellow as dead gold and very soft and +glossy, bore the characteristic spots, shaded like a full-blown rose, +which distinguish the panther from all other species of _felis_. This +terrible hostess lay tranquilly snoring, in an attitude as easy and +graceful as that of a cat on the cushions of an ottoman. Her bloody +paws, sinewy and well-armed, were stretched beyond her head, which lay +upon them; and from her muzzle projected a few straight hairs called +whiskers, which shimmered in the early light like silver wires. + +If he had seen her lying thus imprisoned in a cage, the Provençal would +have admired the creature's grace, and the strong contrasts of vivid +color which gave to her robe an imperial splendor; but as it was, his +sight was jaundiced by sinister forebodings. The presence of the +panther, though she was still asleep, had the same effect upon his mind +as the magnetic eyes of a snake produce, we are told, upon the +nightingale. The soldier's courage oozed away in presence of this silent +peril, though he was a man who gathered nerve before the mouths of +cannon belching grape-shot. And yet, ere long, a bold thought entered +his mind, and checked the cold sweat which was rolling from his brow. +Roused to action, as some men are when, driven face to face with death, +they defy it and offer themselves to their doom, he saw a tragedy +before him, and he resolved to play his part with honor to the last. + +"Yesterday," he said, "the Arabs might have killed me." + +Regarding himself as dead, he waited bravely, but with anxious +curiosity, for the waking of his enemy. When the sun rose, the panther +suddenly opened her eyes; then she stretched her paws violently, as if +to unlimber them from the cramp of their position. Presently she yawned +and showed the frightful armament of her teeth, and her cloven tongue, +rough as a grater. + +"She is like a dainty woman," thought the Frenchman, watching her as she +rolled and turned on her side with an easy and coquettish movement. She +licked the blood from her paws, and rubbed her head with a reiterated +movement full of grace. + +"Well done! dress yourself prettily, my little woman," said the +Frenchman, who recovered his gayety as soon as he had recovered his +courage. "We are going to bid each other good-morning;" and he felt for +the short poniard which he had taken from the Maugrabins. + +At this instant the panther turned her head towards the Frenchman and +looked at him fixedly, without moving. The rigidity of her metallic eyes +and their insupportable clearness made the Provençal shudder. The beast +moved towards him; he looked at her caressingly, with a soothing glance +by which he hoped to magnetize her. He let her come quite close to him +before he stirred; then with a touch as gentle and loving as he might +have used to a pretty woman, he slid his hand along her spine from the +head to the flanks, scratching with his nails the flexible vertebrae +which divide the yellow back of a panther. The creature drew up her tail +voluptuously, her eyes softened, and when for the third time the +Frenchman bestowed this self-interested caress, she gave vent to a purr +like that with which a cat expresses pleasure: but it issued from a +throat so deep and powerful that the sound echoed through the grotto +like the last chords of an organ rolling along the roof of a church. The +Provençal, perceiving the value of his caresses, redoubled them until +they had completely soothed and lulled the imperious courtesan. + +When he felt that he had subdued the ferocity of his capricious +companion, whose hunger had so fortunately been appeased the night +before, he rose to leave the grotto. The panther let him go; but as soon +as he reached the top of the little hill she bounded after him with the +lightness of a bird hopping from branch to branch, and rubbed against +his legs, arching her back with the gesture of a domestic cat. Then +looking at her guest with an eye that was growing less inflexible, she +uttered the savage cry which naturalists liken to the noise of a saw. + +"My lady is exacting," cried the Frenchman, smiling. He began to play +with her ears and stroke her belly, and at last he scratched her head +firmly with his nails. Encouraged by success, he tickled her skull with +the point of his dagger, looking for the right spot where to stab her; +but the hardness of the bone made him pause, dreading failure. + +The sultana of the desert acknowledged the talents of her slave by +lifting her head and swaying her neck to his caresses, betraying +satisfaction by the tranquillity of her relaxed attitude. The Frenchman +suddenly perceived that he could assassinate the fierce princess at a +blow, if he struck her in the throat; and he had raised the weapon, when +the panther, surfeited perhaps with his caresses, threw herself +gracefully at his feet, glancing up at him with a look in which, despite +her natural ferocity, a flicker of kindness could be seen. The poor +Provençal, frustrated for the moment, ate his dates as he leaned against +a palm-tree, casting from time to time an interrogating eye across the +desert in the hope of discerning rescue from afar, and then lowering it +upon his terrible companion, to watch the chances of her uncertain +clemency. Each time that he threw away a date-stone the panther eyed the +spot where it fell with an expression of keen distrust; and she examined +the Frenchman with what might be called commercial prudence. The +examination, however, seemed favorable, for when the man had finished +his meagre meal she licked his shoes and wiped off the dust, which was +caked into the folds of the leather, with her rough and powerful tongue. + +"How will it be when she is hungry?" thought the Provençal. In spite of +the shudder which this reflection cost him, his attention was attracted +by the symmetrical proportions of the animal, and he began to measure +them with his eye. She was three feet in height to the shoulder, and +four feet long, not including the tail. That powerful weapon, which was +round as a club, measured three feet. The head, as large as that of a +lioness, was remarkable for an expression of crafty intelligence; the +cold cruelty of a tiger was its ruling trait, and yet it bore a vague +resemblance to the face of an artful woman. As the soldier watched her, +the countenance of this solitary queen shone with savage gayety like +that of Nero in his cups: she had slaked her thirst for blood, and now +wished for play. The Frenchman tried to come and go, and accustomed her +to his movements. The panther left him free, as if contented to follow +him with her eyes, seeming, however, less like a faithful dog watching +his master's movements with affection, than a huge Angora cat uneasy and +suspicious of them. A few steps brought him to the spring, where he saw +the carcass of his horse, which the panther had evidently carried there. +Only two-thirds was eaten. The sight reassured the Frenchman; for it +explained the absence of his terrible companion and the forbearance +which she had shown to him while asleep. + +This first good luck encouraged the reckless soldier as he thought of +the future. The wild idea of making a home with the panther until some +chance of escape occurred entered his mind, and he resolved to try every +means of taming her and of turning her good-will to account. With these +thoughts he returned to her side, and noticed joyfully that she moved +her tail with an almost imperceptible motion. He sat down beside her +fearlessly, and they began to play with each other. He held her paws and +her muzzle, twisted her ears, threw her over on her back, and stroked +her soft warm flanks. She allowed him to do so; and when he began to +smooth the fur of her paws, she carefully drew in her murderous claws, +which were sharp and curved like a Damascus blade. The Frenchman kept +one hand on his dagger, again watching his opportunity to plunge it into +the belly of the too-confiding beast; but the fear that she might +strangle him in her last convulsions once more stayed his hand. +Moreover, he felt in his heart a foreboding of a remorse which warned +him not to destroy a hitherto inoffensive creature. He even fancied that +he had found a friend in the limitless desert. His mind turned back, +involuntarily, to his first mistress, whom he had named in derision +"Mignonne," because her jealousy was so furious that throughout the +whole period of their intercourse he lived in dread of the knife with +which she threatened him. This recollection of his youth suggested the +idea of teaching the young panther, whose soft agility and grace he now +admired with less terror, to answer to the caressing name. Towards +evening he had grown so familiar with his perilous position that he was +half in love with its dangers, and his companion was so far tamed that +she had caught the habit of turning to him when he called, in falsetto +tones, "Mignonne!" + +As the sun went down Mignonne uttered at intervals a prolonged, deep, +melancholy cry. + +"She is well brought up," thought the gay soldier. "She says her +prayers." But the jest only came into his mind as he watched the +peaceful attitude of his comrade. + +"Come, my pretty blonde, I will let you go to bed first," he said, +relying on the activity of his legs to get away as soon as she fell +asleep, and trusting to find some other resting-place for the night. He +waited anxiously for the right moment, and when it came he started +vigorously in the direction of the Nile. But he had scarcely marched for +half an hour through the sand before he heard the panther bounding after +him, giving at intervals the saw-like cry which was more terrible to +hear than the thud of her bounds. + +"Well, well!" he cried, "she must have fallen in love with me! Perhaps +she has never met any one else. It is flattering to be her first love." + +So thinking, he fell into one of the treacherous quicksands which +deceive the inexperienced traveler in the desert, and from which there +is seldom any escape. He felt he was sinking, and he uttered a cry of +despair. The panther seized him by the collar with her teeth, and sprang +vigorously backward, drawing him, like magic, from the sucking sand. + +"Ah, Mignonne!" cried the soldier, kissing her with enthusiasm, "we +belong to each other now,--for life, for death! But play me no tricks," +he added, as he turned back the way he came. + +From that moment the desert was, as it were, peopled for him. It held a +being to whom he could talk, and whose ferocity was now lulled into +gentleness, although he could scarcely explain to himself the reasons +for this extraordinary friendship. His anxiety to keep awake and on his +guard succumbed to excessive weariness both of body and mind, and +throwing himself down on the floor of the grotto he slept soundly. At +his waking Mignonne was gone. He mounted the little hill to scan the +horizon, and perceived her in the far distance returning with the long +bounds peculiar to these animals, who are prevented from running by the +extreme flexibility of their spinal column. + +Mignonne came home with bloody jaws, and received the tribute of +caresses which her slave hastened to pay, all the while manifesting her +pleasure by reiterated purring. + +Her eyes, now soft and gentle, rested kindly on the Provençal, who spoke +to her lovingly as he would to a domestic animal. + +"Ah! Mademoiselle,--for you are an honest girl, are you not? You like to +be petted, don't you? Are you not ashamed of yourself? You have been +eating a Maugrabin. Well, well! they are animals like the rest of you. +But you are not to craunch up a Frenchman; remember that! If you do, I +will not love you." + +She played like a young dog with her master, and let him roll her over +and pat and stroke her, and sometimes she would coax him to play by +laying a paw upon his knee with a pretty soliciting gesture. + +Several days passed rapidly. This strange companionship revealed to the +Provençal the sublime beauties of the desert. The alternations of hope +and fear, the sufficiency of food, the presence of a creature who +occupied his thoughts,--all this kept his mind alert, yet free: it was a +life full of strange contrasts. Solitude revealed to him her secrets, +and wrapped him with her charm. In the rising and the setting of the sun +he saw splendors unknown to the world of men. He quivered as he listened +to the soft whirring of the wings of a bird,--rare visitant!--or watched +the blending of the fleeting clouds,--those changeful and many-tinted +voyagers. In the waking hours of the night he studied the play of the +moon upon the sandy ocean, where the strong simoom had rippled the +surface into waves and ever-varying undulations. He lived in the Eastern +day; he worshiped its marvelous glory. He rejoiced in the grandeur of +the storms when they rolled across the vast plain, and tossed the sand +upward till it looked like a dry red fog or a solid death-dealing vapor; +and as the night came on he welcomed it with ecstasy, grateful for the +blessed coolness of the light of the stars. His ears listened to the +music of the skies. Solitude taught him the treasures of meditation. He +spent hours in recalling trifles, and in comparing his past life with +the weird present. + +He grew fondly attached to his panther; for he was a man who needed an +affection. Whether it were that his own will, magnetically strong, had +modified the nature of his savage princess, or that the wars then raging +in the desert had provided her with an ample supply of food, it is +certain that she showed no sign of attacking him, and became so tame +that he soon felt no fear of her. He spent much of his time in sleeping; +though with his mind awake, like a spider in its web, lest he should +miss some deliverance that might chance to cross the sandy sphere marked +out by the horizon. He had made his shirt into a banner and tied it to +the top of a palm-tree which he had stripped of its leafage. Taking +counsel of necessity, he kept the flag extended by fastening the corners +with twigs and wedges; for the fitful wind might have failed to wave it +at the moment when the longed-for succor came in sight. + +Nevertheless, there were long hours of gloom when hope forsook him; and +then he played with his panther. He learned to know the different +inflections of her voice and the meanings of her expressive glance; he +studied the variegation of the spots which shaded the dead gold of her +robe. Mignonne no longer growled when he caught the tuft of her +dangerous tail and counted the black and white rings which glittered in +the sunlight like a cluster of precious stones. He delighted in the soft +lines of her lithe body, the whiteness of her belly, the grace of her +charming head: but above all he loved to watch her as she gamboled at +play. The agility and youthfulness of her movements were a constantly +fresh surprise to him. He admired the suppleness of the flexible body as +she bounded, crept, and glided, or clung to the trunk of palm-trees, or +rolled over and over, crouching sometimes to the ground, and gathering +herself together as she made ready for her vigorous spring. Yet, however +vigorous the bound, however slippery the granite block on which she +landed, she would stop short, motionless, at the one word "Mignonne." + +One day, under a dazzling sun, a large bird hovered in the sky. The +Provençal left his panther to watch the new guest. After a moment's +pause the neglected sultana uttered a low growl. + +"The devil take me! I believe she is jealous!" exclaimed the soldier, +observing the rigid look which once more appeared in her metallic eyes. +"The soul of Sophronie has got into her body!" + +The eagle disappeared in ether, and the Frenchman, recalled by the +panther's displeasure, admired afresh her rounded flanks and the perfect +grace of her attitude. She was as pretty as a woman. The blonde +brightness of her robe shaded, with delicate gradations, to the +dead-white tones of her furry thighs; the vivid sunshine brought out the +brilliancy of this living gold and its variegated brown spots with +indescribable lustre. The panther and the Provençal gazed at each other +with human comprehension. She trembled with delight--the coquettish +creature!--as she felt the nails of her friend scratching the strong +bones of her skull. Her eyes glittered like flashes of lightning, and +then she closed them tightly. + +"She has a soul!" cried the soldier, watching the tranquil repose of +this sovereign of the desert, golden as the sands, white as their +pulsing light, solitary and burning as they. + + * * * * * + +"Well," she said, "I have read your defense of the beasts. But tell me +what was the end of this friendship between two beings so formed to +understand each other?" + +"Ah, exactly," I replied. "It ended as all great passions end,--by a +misunderstanding. Both sides imagine treachery, pride prevents an +explanation, and the rupture comes about through obstinacy." + +"Yes," she said, "and sometimes a word, a look, an exclamation suffices. +But tell me the end of the story." + +"That is difficult," I answered. "But I will give it to you in the words +of the old veteran, as he finished the bottle of champagne and +exclaimed:-- + +"'I don't know how I could have hurt her, but she suddenly turned upon +me as if in fury, and seized my thigh with her sharp teeth; and yet (as +I afterwards remembered) not cruelly. I thought she meant to devour me, +and I plunged my dagger into her throat. She rolled over with a cry that +froze my soul; she looked at me in her death struggle, but without +anger. I would have given all the world--my cross, which I had not then +gained, all, everything--to have brought her back to life. It was as if +I had murdered a friend, a human being. When the soldiers who saw my +flag came to my rescue they found me weeping. Monsieur,' he resumed, +after a moment's silence, 'I went through the wars in Germany, Spain, +Russia, France; I have marched my carcass well-nigh over all the world; +but I have seen nothing comparable to the desert. Ah, it is grand! +glorious!' + +"'What were your feelings there?' I asked. + +"'They cannot be told, young man. Besides, I do not always regret my +panther and my palm-tree oasis: I must be very sad for that. But I will +tell you this: in the desert there is all--and yet nothing.' + +"'Stay!--explain that.' + +"'Well, then,' he said, with a gesture of impatience, 'God is there, and +man is not.'" + + +FROM 'THE COUNTRY DOCTOR' + +THE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE + +"Let us go to my barn," said the doctor, taking Genestas by the arm, +after saying good-night to the curate and his other guests. "And there, +Captain Bluteau, you will hear about Napoleon. We shall find a few old +cronies who will set Goguelat, the postman, to declaiming about the +people's god. Nicolle, my stable-man, was to put a ladder by which we +can get into the hay-loft through a window, and find a place where we +can see and hear all that goes on. A _veillée_ is worth the trouble, +believe me. Come, it isn't the first time I've hidden in the hay to hear +the tale of a soldier or some peasant yarn. But we must hide; if these +poor people see a stranger they are constrained at once, and are no +longer their natural selves." + +"Eh! my dear host," said Genestas, "haven't I often pretended to sleep, +that I might listen to my troopers round a bivouac? I never laughed more +heartily in the Paris theatres than I did at an account of the retreat +from Moscow, told in fun, by an old sergeant to a lot of recruits who +were afraid of war. He declared the French army slept in sheets, and +drank its wine well-iced; that the dead stood still in the roads; Russia +was white, they curried the horses with their teeth; those who liked to +skate had lots of fun, and those who fancied frozen puddings ate their +fill; the women were usually cold, and the only thing that was really +disagreeable was the want of hot water to shave with: in short, he +recounted such absurdities that an old quarter-master, who had had his +nose frozen off and was known by the name Nez-restant, laughed himself." + +"Hush," said Benassis, "here we are: I'll go first; follow me." + +The pair mounted the ladder and crouched in the hay, without being seen +or heard by the people below, and placed themselves at ease, so that +they could see and hear all that went on. The women were sitting in +groups round the three or four candles that stood on the tables. Some +were sewing, some knitting; several sat idle, their necks stretched out +and their heads and eyes turned to an old peasant who was telling a +story. Most of the men were standing, or lying on bales of hay. These +groups, all perfectly silent, were scarcely visible in the flickering +glimmer of the tallow-candles encircled by glass bowls full of water, +which concentrated the light in rays upon the women at work about the +tables. The size of the barn, whose roof was dark and sombre, still +further obscured the rays of light, which touched the heads with unequal +color, and brought out picturesque effects of light and shade. Here, the +brown forehead and the clear eyes of an eager little peasant-girl shone +forth; there, the rough brows of a few old men were sharply defined by a +luminous band, which made fantastic shapes of their worn and discolored +garments. These various listeners, so diverse in their attitudes, all +expressed on their motionless features the absolute abandonment of their +intelligence to the narrator. It was a curious picture, illustrating the +enormous influence exercised over every class of mind by poetry. In +exacting from a story-teller the marvelous that must still be simple, or +the impossible that is almost believable, the peasant proves himself to +be a true lover of the purest poetry. + +"Come, Monsieur Goguelat," said the game-keeper, "tell us about the +Emperor." + +"The evening is half over," said the postman, "and I don't like to +shorten the victories." + +"Never mind; go on! You've told them so many times we know them all by +heart; but it is always a pleasure to hear them again." + +"Yes! tell us about the Emperor," cried many voices together. + +"Since you wish it," replied Goguelat. "But you'll see it isn't worth +much when I have to tell it on the double-quick, charge! I'd rather tell +about a battle. Shall I tell about Champ-Aubert, where we used up all +the cartridges and spitted the enemy on our bayonets?" + +"No! no! the Emperor! the Emperor!" + +The veteran rose from his bale of hay and cast upon the assemblage that +black look laden with miseries, emergencies, and sufferings, which +distinguishes the faces of old soldiers. He seized his jacket by the two +front flaps, raised them as if about to pack the knapsack which formerly +held his clothes, his shoes, and all his fortune; then he threw the +weight of his body on his left leg, advanced the right, and yielded with +a good grace to the demands of the company. After pushing his gray hair +to one side to show his forehead, he raised his head towards heaven that +he might, as it were, put himself on the level of the gigantic history +he was about to relate. + +"You see, my friends, Napoleon was born in Corsica, a French island, +warmed by the sun of Italy, where it is like a furnace, and where the +people kill each other, from father to son, all about nothing: that's a +way they have. To begin with the marvel of the thing,--his mother, who +was the handsomest woman of her time, and a knowing one, bethought +herself of dedicating him to God, so that he might escape the dangers of +his childhood and future life; for she had dreamed that the world was +set on fire the day he was born. And indeed it was a prophecy! So she +asked God to protect him, on condition that Napoleon should restore His +holy religion, which was then cast to the ground. Well, that was agreed +upon, and we shall see what came of it. + +"Follow me closely, and tell me if what you hear is in the nature of +man. + +"Sure and certain it is that none but a man who conceived the idea of +making a compact with God could have passed unhurt through the enemy's +lines, through cannon-balls, and discharges of grape-shot that swept the +rest of us off like flies, and always respected his head. I had a proof +of that--I myself--at Eylau. I see him now, as he rode up a height, took +his field glass, looked at the battle, and said, 'A11 goes well.' One of +those plumed busy-bodies, who plagued him considerably and followed him +everywhere, even to his meals, so they said, thought to play the wag, +and took the Emperor's place as he rode away. Ho! in a twinkling, head +and plume were off! You must understand that Napoleon had promised to +keep the secret of his compact all to himself. That's why all those who +followed him, even his nearest friends, fell like nuts,--Duroc, +Bessières, Lannes,--all strong as steel bars, though _he_ could bend +them as he pleased. Besides,--to prove he was the child of God, and made +to be the father of soldiers,--was he ever known to be lieutenant or +captain? no, no; commander-in-chief from the start. He didn't look to be +more than twenty-four years of age when he was an old general at the +taking of Toulon, where he first began to show the others that they +knew nothing about manoeuvring cannon. + +"After that, down came our slip of a general to command the grand army +of Italy, which hadn't bread nor munitions, nor shoes, nor coats,--a +poor army, as naked as a worm. 'My friends,' said he, 'here we are +together. Get it into your pates that fifteen days from now you will be +conquerors,--new clothes, good gaiters, famous shoes, and every man with +a great-coat; but, my children, to get these things you must march to +Milan where they are.' And we marched. France, crushed as flat as a +bedbug, straightened up. We were thirty thousand barefeet against eighty +thousand Austrian bullies, all fine men, well set up. I see 'em now! But +Napoleon--he was then only Bonaparte--he knew how to put the courage +into us! We marched by night, and we marched by day; we slapped their +faces at Montenotte, we thrashed 'em at Rivoli, Lodi, Arcole, Millesimo, +and we never let 'em up. A soldier gets the taste of conquest. So +Napoleon whirled round those Austrian generals, who didn't know where to +poke themselves to get out of his way, and he pelted 'em well,--nipped +off ten thousand men at a blow sometimes, by getting round them with +fifteen hundred Frenchmen, and then he gleaned as he pleased. He took +their cannon, their supplies, their money, their munitions, in short, +all they had that was good to take. He fought them and beat them on the +mountains, he drove them into the rivers and seas, he bit 'em in the +air, he devoured 'em on the ground, and he lashed 'em everywhere. Hey! +the grand army feathered itself well; for, d'ye see, the Emperor, who +was also a wit, called up the inhabitants and told them he was there to +deliver them. So after that the natives lodged and cherished us; the +women too, and very judicious they were. Now here's the end of it. In +Ventose, '96,--in those times that was the month of March of to-day,--we +lay cuddled in a corner of Savoy with the marmots; and yet, before that +campaign was over, we were masters of Italy, just as Napoleon had +predicted; and by the following March--in a single year and two +campaigns--he had brought us within sight of Vienna. 'Twas a clean +sweep. We devoured their armies, one after the other, and made an end of +four Austrian generals. One old fellow, with white hair, was roasted +like a rat in the straw at Mantua. Kings begged for mercy on their +knees! Peace was won. + +"Could a _man_ have done that? No; God helped him, to a certainty! + +"He divided himself up like the loaves in the Gospel, commanded the +battle by day, planned it by night; going and coming, for the sentinels +saw him,--never eating, never sleeping. So, seeing these prodigies, the +soldiers adopted him for their father. Forward, march! Then those +others, the rulers in Paris, seeing this, said to themselves:--'Here's a +bold one that seems to get his orders from the skies; he's likely to put +his paw on France. We must let him loose on Asia; we will send him to +America, perhaps that will satisfy him.' But 'twas _written above_ for +him, as it was for Jesus Christ. The command went forth that he should +go to Egypt. See again his resemblance to the Son of God. But that's not +all. He called together his best veterans, his fire-eaters, the ones he +had particularly put the devil into, and he said to them like this:--'My +friends, they have given us Egypt to chew up, just to keep us busy, but +we'll swallow it whole in a couple of campaigns, as we did Italy. The +common soldiers shall be princes and have the land for their own. +Forward, march!' 'Forward, march!' cried the sergeants, and there we +were at Toulon, road to Egypt. At that time the English had all their +ships in the sea; but when we embarked Napoleon said, 'They won't see +us. It is just as well that you should know from this time forth that +your general has got his star in the sky, which guides and protects us.' +What was said was done. Passing over the sea, we took Malta like an +orange, just to quench his thirst for victory; for he was a man who +couldn't live and do nothing. + +"So here we are in Egypt. Good. Once here, other orders. The Egyptians, +d'ye see, are men who, ever since the earth was, have had giants for +sovereigns, and armies as numerous as ants; for, you must understand, +that's the land of genii and crocodiles, where they've built pyramids as +big as our mountains, and buried their kings under them to keep them +fresh,--an idea that pleased 'em mightily. So then, after we +disembarked, the Little Corporal said to us, 'My children, the country +you are going to conquer has a lot of gods that you must respect; +because Frenchmen ought to be friends with everybody, and fight the +nations without vexing the inhabitants. Get it into your skulls that you +are not to touch anything at first, for it is all going to be yours +soon. Forward, march!' So far, so good. But all those people of Africa, +to whom Napoleon was foretold under the name of Kébir-Bonaberdis,--a +word of their lingo that means 'the sultan fires,'--were afraid as the +devil of him. So the Grand Turk, and Asia, and Africa, had recourse to +magic. They sent us a demon, named the Mahdi, supposed to have descended +from heaven on a white horse, which, like its master, was bullet-proof; +and both of them lived on air, without food to support them. There are +some that say they saw them; but I can't give you any reasons to make +you certain about that. The rulers of Arabia and the Mamelukes tried to +make their troopers believe that the Mahdi could keep them from +perishing in battle; and they pretended he was an angel sent from heaven +to fight Napoleon and get back Solomon's seal. Solomon's seal was part +of their paraphernalia which they vowed our General had stolen. You must +understand that we'd given 'em a good many wry faces, in spite of what +he had said to us. + +"Now, tell me how they knew that Napoleon had a pact with God? Was that +natural, d'ye think? + +"They held to it in their minds that Napoleon commanded the genii, and +could pass hither and thither in the twinkling of an eye, like a bird. +The fact is, he was everywhere. At last, it came to his carrying off a +queen, beautiful as the dawn, for whom he had offered all his treasure, +and diamonds as big as pigeons' eggs,--a bargain which the Mameluke to +whom she particularly belonged positively refused, although he had +several others. Such matters, when they come to that pass, can't be +settled without a great many battles; and, indeed, there was no scarcity +of battles; there was fighting enough to please everybody. We were in +line at Alexandria, at Gizeh, and before the Pyramids; we marched in the +sun and through the sand, where some, who had the dazzles, saw water +that they couldn't drink, and shade where their flesh was roasted. But +we made short work of the Mamelukes; and everybody else yielded at the +voice of Napoleon, who took possession of Upper and Lower Egypt, Arabia, +and even the capitals of kingdoms that were no more, where there were +thousand of statues and all the plagues of Egypt, more particularly +lizards,--a mammoth of a country where everybody could take his acres of +land for as little as he pleased. Well, while Napoleon was busy with his +affairs inland,--where he had it in his head to do fine things,--the +English burned his fleet at Aboukir; for they were always looking about +them to annoy us. But Napoleon, who had the respect of the East and of +the West, whom the Pope called his son, and the cousin of Mohammed +called 'his dear father,' resolved to punish England, and get hold of +India in exchange for his fleet. He was just about to take us across the +Red Sea into Asia, a country where there are diamonds and gold to pay +the soldiers and palaces for bivouacs, when the Mahdi made a treaty with +the Plague, and sent it down to hinder our victories. Halt! The army to +a man defiled at that parade; and few there were who came back on their +feet. Dying soldiers couldn't take Saint-Jean d'Acre, though they rushed +at it three times with generous and martial obstinacy. The Plague was +the strongest. No saying to that enemy, 'My good friend.' Every soldier +lay ill. Napoleon alone was fresh as a rose, and the whole army saw him +drinking in pestilence without its doing him a bit of harm. + +"Ha! my friends! will you tell me that _that's_ in the nature of a mere +man? + +"The Mamelukes knowing we were all in the ambulances, thought they could +stop the way; but that sort of joke wouldn't do with Napoleon. So he +said to his demons, his veterans, those that had the toughest hide, 'Go, +clear me the way.' Junot, a sabre of the first cut, and his particular +friend, took a thousand men, no more, and ripped up the army of the +pacha who had had the presumption to put himself in the way. After that, +we came back to headquarters at Cairo. Now, here's another side of the +story. Napoleon absent, France was letting herself be ruined by the +rulers in Paris, who kept back the pay of the soldiers of the other +armies, and their clothing, and their rations; left them to die of +hunger, and expected them to lay down the law to the universe without +taking any trouble to help them. Idiots! who amused themselves by +chattering, instead of putting their own hands in the dough. Well, +that's how it happened that our armies were beaten, and the frontiers of +France were encroached upon: THE MAN was not there. Now observe, I say +_man_ because that's what they called him; but 'twas nonsense, for he +had a star and all its belongings; it was we who were only men. He +taught history to France after his famous battle of Aboukir, where, +without losing more than three hundred men, and with a single division, +he vanquished the grand army of the Turk, seventy-five thousand strong, +and hustled more than half of it into the sea, r-r-rah! + +"That was his last thunder-clap in Egypt. He said to himself, seeing +the way things were going in Paris, 'I am the savior of France. I know +it, and I must go.' But, understand me, the army didn't know he was +going, or they'd have kept him by force and made him Emperor of the +East. So now we were sad; for He was gone who was all our joy. He left +the command to Kléber, a big mastiff, who came off duty at Cairo, +assassinated by an Egyptian, whom they put to death by impaling him on a +bayonet; that's the way they guillotine people down there. But it makes +'em suffer so much that a soldier had pity on the criminal and gave him +his canteen; and then, as soon as the Egyptian had drunk his fill, he +gave up the ghost with all the pleasure in life. But that's a trifle we +couldn't laugh at then. Napoleon embarked in a cockleshell, a little +skiff that was nothing at all, though 'twas called 'Fortune'; and in a +twinkling, under the nose of England, who was blockading him with ships +of the line, frigates, and anything that could hoist a sail, he crossed +over, and there he was in France. For he always had the power, mind you, +of crossing the seas at one straddle. + +"Was that a human man? Bah! + +"So, one minute he is at Fréjus, the next in Paris. There, they all +adore him; but he summons the government. 'What have you done with my +children, the soldiers?' he says to the lawyers. 'You're a mob of +rascally scribblers; you are making France a mess of pottage, and +snapping your fingers at what people think of you. It won't do; and I +speak the opinion of everybody.' So, on that, they wanted to battle with +him and kill him--click! he had 'em locked up in barracks, or flying out +of windows, or drafted among his followers, where they were as mute as +fishes, and as pliable as a quid of tobacco. After that stroke--consul! +And then, as it was not for him to doubt the Supreme Being, he fulfilled +his promise to the good God, who, you see, had kept His word to him. He +gave Him back his churches, and re-established His religion; the bells +rang for God and for him: and lo! everybody was pleased: _primo_, the +priests, whom he saved from being harassed; _secundo_, the bourgeois, +who thought only of their trade, and no longer had to fear the +_rapiamus_ of the law, which had got to be unjust; _tertio_, the nobles, +for he forbade they should be killed, as, unfortunately, the people had +got the habit of doing. + +"But he still had the Enemy to wipe out; and he wasn't the man to go to +sleep at a mess-table, because, d'ye see, his eye looked over the whole +earth as if it were no bigger than a man's head. So then he appeared in +Italy, like as though he had stuck his head through the window. One +glance was enough. The Austrians were swallowed up at Marengo like so +many gudgeons by a whale! Ouf! The French eagles sang their paeans so +loud that all the world heard them--and it sufficed! 'We won't play that +game any more,' said the German. 'Enough, enough!' said all the rest. + +"To sum up: Europe backed down, England knocked under. General peace; +and the kings and the people made believe kiss each other. That's the +time when the Emperor invented the Legion of Honor--and a fine thing, +too. 'In France'--this is what he said at Boulogne before the whole +army--'every man is brave. So the citizen who does a fine action shall +be sister to the soldier, and the soldier shall be his brother, and the +two shall be one under the flag of honor.' + +"We, who were down in Egypt, now came home. All was changed! He left us +general, and hey! in a twinkling we found him EMPEROR. France gave +herself to him, like a fine girl to a lancer. When it was done--to the +satisfaction of all, as you may say--a sacred ceremony took place, the +like of which was never seen under the canopy of the skies. The Pope and +the cardinals, in their red and gold vestments, crossed the Alps +expressly to crown him before the army and the people, who clapped their +hands. There is one thing that I should do very wrong not to tell you. +In Egypt, in the desert close to Syria, the RED MAN came to him on the +Mount of Moses, and said, 'All is well.' Then, at Marengo, the night +before the victory, the same Red Man appeared before him for the second +time, standing erect and saying, 'Thou shalt see the world at thy feet; +thou shalt be Emperor of France, King of Italy, master of Holland, +sovereign of Spain, Portugal, and the Illyrian provinces, protector of +Germany, savior of Poland, first eagle of the Legion of Honor--all.' +This Red Man, you understand, was his genius, his spirit,--a sort of +satellite who served him, as some say, to communicate with his star. I +never really believed that. But the Red Man himself is a true fact. +Napoleon spoke of him, and said he came to him in troubled moments, and +lived in the palace of the Tuileries under the roof. So, on the day of +the coronation, Napoleon saw him for the third time; and they were in +consultation over many things. + +"After that, Napoleon went to Milan to be crowned king of Italy, and +there the grand triumph of the soldier began. Every man who could write +was made an officer. Down came pensions; it rained duchies; treasures +poured in for the staff which didn't cost France a penny; and the Legion +of Honor provided incomes for the private soldiers,--of which I receive +mine to this day. So here were the armies maintained as never before on +this earth. But besides that, the Emperor, knowing that he was to be the +emperor of the whole world, bethought him of the bourgeois, and to +please them he built fairy monuments, after their own ideas, in places +where you'd never think to find any. For instance, suppose you were +coming back from Spain and going to Berlin--well, you'd find triumphal +arches along the way, with common soldiers sculptured on the stone, +every bit the same as generals. In two or three years, and without +imposing taxes on any of you, Napoleon filled his vaults with gold, +built palaces, made bridges, roads, scholars, fêtes, laws, vessels, +harbors, and spent millions upon millions,--such enormous sums that he +could, so they tell me, have paved France from end to end with +five-franc pieces, if he had had a mind to. + +"Now, when he sat at ease on his throne, and was master of all, so that +Europe waited his permission to do his bidding, he remembered his four +brothers and his three sisters, and he said to us, as it might be in +conversation, in an order of the day, 'My children, is it right that the +blood relations of your Emperor should be begging their bread? No. I +wish to see them in splendor like myself. It becomes, therefore, +absolutely necessary to conquer a kingdom for each of them,--to the end +that Frenchmen may be masters over all lands, that the soldiers of the +Guard shall make the whole earth tremble, that France may spit where she +likes, and that all the nations shall say to her, as it is written on my +copper coins, '_God protects you_!' 'Agreed,' cried the army. 'We'll go +fish for thy kingdoms with our bayonets.' Ha! there was no backing down, +don't you see! If he had taken it into his head to conquer the moon, we +should have made ready, packed knapsacks, and clambered up; happily, he +didn't think of it. The kings of the countries, who liked their +comfortable thrones, were naturally loathe to budge, and had to have +their ears pulled; so then--Forward, march! We did march; we got there; +and the earth once more trembled to its centre. Hey! the men and the +shoes he used up in those days! The enemy dealt us such blows that none +but the grand army could have stood the fatigue of it. But you are not +ignorant that a Frenchman is born a philosopher, and knows that a little +sooner, or a little later, he has got to die. So we were ready to die +without a word, for we liked to see the Emperor doing _that_ on the +geographies." + +Here the narrator nimbly described a circle with his foot on the floor +of the barn. + +"And Napoleon said, 'There, that's to be a kingdom.' And a kingdom it +was. Ha! the good times! The colonels were generals; the generals, +marshals; and the marshals, kings. There's one of 'em still on his +throne, to prove it to Europe; but he's a Gascon and a traitor to France +for keeping that crown; and he doesn't blush for shame as he ought to +do, because crowns, don't you see, are made of gold. I who am speaking +to you, I have seen, in Paris, eleven kings and a mob of princes +surrounding Napoleon like the rays of the sun. You understand, of +course, that every soldier had the chance to mount a throne, provided +always he had the merit; so a corporal of the Guard was a sight to be +looked at as he walked along, for each man had his share in the victory, +and 'twas plainly set forth in the bulletin. What victories they were! +Austerlitz, where the army manoeuvred as if on parade; Eylau, where we +drowned the Russians in a lake, as though Napoleon had blown them into +it with the breath of his mouth; Wagram, where the army fought for three +days without grumbling. We won as many battles as there are saints in +the calendar. It was proved then beyond a doubt, that Napoleon had the +sword of God in his scabbard. The soldiers were his friends; he made +them his children; he looked after us; he saw that we had shoes, and +shirts, and great-coats, and bread, and cartridges; but he always kept +up his majesty; for, don't you see, 'twas his business to reign. No +matter for that, however; a sergeant, and even a common soldier could +say to him, 'My Emperor,' just as you say to me sometimes, 'My good +friend.' He gave us an answer if we appealed to him; he slept in the +snow like the rest of us; and indeed, he had almost the air of a human +man. I who speak to you, I have seen him with his feet among the +grapeshot, and no more uneasy than you are now,--standing steady, +looking through his field glass, and minding his business. 'Twas that +kept the rest of us quiet. I don't know how he did it, but when he spoke +he made our hearts burn within us; and to show him we were his children, +incapable of balking, didn't we rush at the mouths of the rascally +cannon, that belched and vomited shot and shell without so much as +saying, 'Look out!' Why! the dying must needs raise their heads to +salute him and cry, 'LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!' + +"I ask you, was that natural? would they have done that for a human man? + +"Well, after he had settled the world, the Empress Josephine, his wife, +a good woman all the same, managed matters so that she did not bear him +any children, and he was obliged to give her up, though he loved her +considerably. But, you see, he had to have little ones for reasons of +state. Hearing of this, all the sovereigns of Europe quarreled as to +which of them should give him a wife. And he married, so they told us, +an Austrian archduchess, daughter of Caesar, an ancient man about whom +people talk a good deal, and not in France only,--where any one will +tell you what he did,--but in Europe. It is all true, for I myself who +address you at this moment, I have been on the Danube, and have seen the +remains of a bridge built by that man, who, it seems, was a relation of +Napoleon in Rome, and that's how the Emperor got the inheritance of that +city for his son. So after the marriage, which was a fête for the whole +world, and in honor of which he released the people of ten years' +taxes,--which they had to pay all the same, however, because the +assessors didn't take account of what he said,--his wife had a little +one, who was King of Rome. Now, there's a thing that had never been seen +on this earth; never before was a child born a king with his father +living. On that day a balloon went up in Paris to tell the news to Rome, +and that balloon made the journey in one day! + +"Now, is there any man among you who will stand up and declare to me +that all that was human? No; it was _written above;_ and may the scurvy +seize them who deny that he was sent by God himself for the triumph +of France! + +"Well, here's the Emperor of Russia, that used to be his friend, he gets +angry because Napoleon didn't marry a Russian; so he joins with the +English, our enemies,--to whom our Emperor always wanted to say a couple +of words in their burrows, only he was prevented. Napoleon gets angry +too; an end had to be put to such doings; so he says to us:--'Soldiers! +you have been masters of every capital in Europe, except Moscow, which +is now the ally of England. To conquer England, and India which belongs +to the English, it becomes our peremptory duty to go to Moscow.' Then he +assembled the greatest army that ever trailed its gaiters over the +globe; and so marvelously in hand it was that he reviewed a million of +men in one day. 'Hourra! cried the Russians. Down came all Russia and +those animals of Cossacks in a flock. 'Twas nation against nation, a +general hurly-burly, and beware who could; 'Asia against Europe,' as the +Red Man had foretold to Napoleon. 'Enough,' cried the Emperor, 'I'll +be ready.' + +"So now, sure enough, came all the kings, as the Red Man had said, to +lick Napoleon's hand! Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Poland, Italy, +every one of them were with us, flattering us; ah, it was fine! The +eagles never cawed so loud as at those parades, perched high above the +banners of all Europe. The Poles were bursting with joy, because +Napoleon was going to release them; and that's why France and Poland are +brothers to this day. 'Russia is ours,' cried the army. We plunged into +it well supplied; we marched and we marched,--no Russians. At last we +found the brutes entrenched on the banks of the Moskova. That's where I +won my cross, and I've got the right to say it was a damnable battle. +This was how it came about. The Emperor was anxious. He had seen the Red +Man, who said to him, 'My son, you are going too fast for your feet; you +will lack men; friends will betray you.' So the Emperor offered peace. +But before signing, 'Let us drub those Russians!' he said to us. 'Done!' +cried the army. 'Forward, march!' said the sergeants. My clothes were in +rags, my shoes worn out, from trudging along those roads, which are very +uncomfortable ones; but no matter! I said to myself, 'As it's the last +of our earthquakings, I'll go into it, tooth and nail!' We were drawn up +in line before the great ravine,--front seats, as 'twere. Signal given; +and seven hundred pieces of artillery began a conversation that would +bring the blood from your ears. Then--must do justice to one's +enemies--the Russians let themselves be killed like Frenchmen; they +wouldn't give way; we couldn't advance. 'Forward,' some one cried, 'here +comes the Emperor!' True enough; he passed at a gallop, waving his hand +to let us know we must take the redoubt. He inspired us; on we ran, I +was the first in the ravine. Ha! my God! how the lieutenants fell, and +the colonels, and the soldiers! No matter! all the more shoes for those +that had none, and epaulets for the clever ones who knew how to read. +'Victory!' cried the whole line; 'Victory!'--and, would you believe it? +a thing never seen before, there lay twenty-five thousand Frenchmen on +the ground. 'Twas like mowing down a wheat-field; only in place of the +ears of wheat put the heads of men! We were sobered by this time,--those +who were left alive. The MAN rode up; we made a circle round him. Ha! he +knew how to cajole his children; he could be amiable when he liked, and +feed 'em with words when their stomachs were ravenous with the hunger of +wolves. Flatterer! he distributed the crosses himself, he uncovered to +the dead, and then he cried to us, 'On! to Moscow!' 'To Moscow!' +answered the army. + +"We took Moscow. Would you believe it? the Russians burned their own +city! 'Twas a haystack six miles square, and it blazed for two days. The +buildings crashed like slates, and showers of melted iron and lead +rained down upon us, which was naturally horrible. I may say to you +plainly, it was like a flash of lightning on our disasters. The Emperor +said, 'We have done enough; my soldiers shall rest here.' So we rested +awhile, just to get the breath into our bodies and the flesh on our +bones, for we were really tired. We took possession of the golden cross +that was on the Kremlin; and every soldier brought away with him a small +fortune. But out there the winter sets in a month earlier,--a thing +those fools of science didn't properly explain. So, coming back, the +cold nipped us. No longer an army--do you hear me?--no longer any +generals, no longer any sergeants even. 'Twas the reign of wretchedness +and hunger,--a reign of equality at last. No one thought of anything but +to see France once more; no one stooped to pick up his gun or his money +if he dropped them; each man followed his nose, and went as he pleased +without caring for glory. The weather was so bad the Emperor couldn't +see his star; there was something between him and the skies. Poor man! +it made him ill to see his eagles flying away from victory. Ah! 'twas a +mortal blow, you may believe me. + +"Well, we got to the Beresina. My friends, I can affirm to you by all +that is most sacred, by my honor, that since mankind came into the +world, never, never, was there seen such a fricassee of an army--guns, +carriages, artillery wagons--in the midst of such snows, under such +relentless skies! The muzzles of the muskets burned our hands if we +touched them, the iron was so cold. It was there that the army was saved +by the pontoniers, who were firm at their post; and there that +Gondrin--sole survivor of the men who were bold enough to go into the +water and build the bridges by which the army crossed--that Gondrin, +here present, admirably conducted himself, and saved us from the +Russians, who, I must tell you, still respected the grand army, +remembering its victories. And," he added, pointing to Gondrin, who was +gazing at him with the peculiar attention of a deaf man, "Gondrin is a +finished soldier, a soldier who is honor itself, and he merits your +highest esteem." + +"I saw the Emperor," he resumed, "standing by the bridge, motionless, +not feeling the cold--was that human? He looked at the destruction of +his treasure, his friends, his old Egyptians. Bah! all that passed him, +women, army wagons, artillery, all were shattered, destroyed, ruined. +The bravest carried the eagles; for the eagles, d'ye see, were France, +the nation, all of you! they were the civil and the military honor that +must be kept pure; could their heads be lowered because of the cold? It +was only near the Emperor that we warmed ourselves, because when he was +in danger we ran, frozen as we were--we, who wouldn't have stretched a +hand to save a friend. They told us he wept at night over his poor +family of soldiers. Ah! none but he and Frenchmen could have got +themselves out of that business. + +"We did get out, but with losses, great losses, as I tell you. The +Allies captured our provisions. Men began to betray him, as the Red Man +predicted. Those chatterers in Paris, who had held their tongues after +the Imperial Guard was formed, now thought he was dead; so they +hoodwinked the prefect of police, and hatched a conspiracy to overthrow +the empire. He heard of it; it worried him. He left us, saying: 'Adieu, +my children; guard the outposts; I shall return to you.' Bah! without +him nothing went right; the generals lost their heads; the marshals +talked nonsense and committed follies; but that was not surprising, for +Napoleon, who was kind, had fed 'em on gold; they had got as fat as +lard, and wouldn't stir; some stayed in camp when they ought to have +been warming the backs of the enemy who was between us and France. + +"But the Emperor came back, and he brought recruits, famous recruits; +he changed their backbone and made 'em dogs of war, fit to set their +teeth into anything; and he brought a guard of honor, a fine body +indeed!--all bourgeois, who melted away like butter on a gridiron. + +"Well, spite of our stern bearing, here's everything going against us; +and yet the army did prodigies of valor. Then came battles on the +mountains, nations against nations,--Dresden, Lutzen, Bautzen. Remember +these days, all of you, for 'twas then that Frenchmen were so +particularly heroic that a good grenadier only lasted six months. We +triumphed always; yet there were those English, in our rear, rousing +revolts against us with their lies! No matter, we cut our way home +through the whole pack of the nations. Wherever the Emperor showed +himself we followed him; for if, by sea or land, he gave us the word +'Go!' we went. At last, we were in France; and many a poor foot-soldier +felt the air of his own country restore his soul to satisfaction, spite +of the wintry weather. I can say for myself that it refreshed my life. +Well, next, our business was to defend France, our country, our +beautiful France, against all Europe, which resented our having laid +down the law to the Russians, and pushed them back into their dens, so +that they couldn't eat us up alive, as northern nations, who are dainty +and like southern flesh, have a habit of doing,--at least, so I've heard +some generals say. Then the Emperor saw his own father-in-law, his +friends whom he had made kings, and the scoundrels to whom he had given +back their thrones, all against him. Even Frenchmen, and allies in our +own ranks, turned against us under secret orders, as at the battle of +Leipsic. Would common soldiers have been capable of such wickedness? +Three times a day men were false to their word,--and they called +themselves princes! + +"So, then, France was invaded. Wherever the Emperor showed his lion +face, the enemy retreated; and he did more prodigies in defending France +than ever he had done in conquering Italy, the East, Spain, Europe, and +Russia. He meant to bury every invader under the sod, and teach 'em to +respect the soil of France. So he let them get to Paris, that he might +swallow them at a mouthful, and rise to the height of his genius in a +battle greater than all the rest,--a mother-battle, as 'twere. But +there, there! the Parisians were afraid for their twopenny skins, and +their trumpery shops; they opened the gates. Then the Ragusades +began, and happiness ended. The Empress was fooled, and the white +banner flaunted from the windows. The generals whom he had made +his nearest friends abandoned him for the Bourbons,--a set of +people no one had heard tell of. The Emperor bade us farewell at +Fontainebleau:--'Soldiers!'--I can hear him now; we wept like children; +the flags and the eagles were lowered as if for a funeral: it was, I may +well say it to you, it was the funeral of the Empire; her dapper armies +were nothing now but skeletons. So he said to us, standing there on the +portico of his palace:--'My soldiers! we are vanquished by treachery; +but we shall meet in heaven, the country of the brave. Defend my child, +whom I commit to you. Long live Napoleon II!' He meant to die, that no +man should look upon Napoleon vanquished; he took poison, enough to have +killed a regiment, because, like Jesus Christ before his Passion, he +thought himself abandoned of God and his talisman. But the poison did +not hurt him. + +"See again! he found he was immortal. + +"Sure of himself, knowing he must ever be THE EMPEROR, he went for a +while to an island to study out the nature of these others, who, you may +be sure, committed follies without end. Whilst he bided his time down +there, the Chinese, and the wild men on the coast of Africa, and the +Barbary States, and others who are not at all accommodating, knew so +well he was more than man that they respected his tent, saying to touch +it would be to offend God. Thus, d'ye see, when these others turned him +from the doors of his own France, he still reigned over the whole world. +Before long he embarked in the same little cockleshell of a boat he had +had in Egypt, sailed round the beard of the English, set foot in France, +and France acclaimed him. The sacred cuckoo flew from spire to spire; +all France cried out with one voice, 'LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!' In this +region, here, the enthusiasm for that wonder of the ages was, I may say, +solid. Dauphiné behaved well; and I am particularly pleased to know that +her people wept when they saw, once more, the gray overcoat. March first +it was, when Napoleon landed with two hundred men to conquer that +kingdom of France and of Navarre, which on the twentieth of the same +month was again the French Empire. On that day our MAN was in Paris; he +had made a clean sweep, recovered his dear France, and gathered his +veterans together by saying no more than three words, 'I am here.' + +"'Twas the greatest miracle God had yet done! Before _him_, did ever +man recover an empire by showing his hat? And these others, who thought +they had subdued France! Not they! At sight of the eagles, a national +army sprang up, and we marched to Waterloo. There, the Guard died at one +blow. Napoleon, in despair, threw himself three times before the cannon +of the enemy without obtaining death. We saw that. The battle was lost. +That night the Emperor called his old soldiers to him; on the field +soaked with our blood he burned his banner and his eagles,--his poor +eagles, ever victorious, who cried 'Forward' in the battles, and had +flown the length and breadth of Europe, _they_ were saved the infamy of +belonging to the enemy: all the treasures of England couldn't get her a +tail-feather of them. No more eagles!--the rest is well known. The Red +Man went over to the Bourbons, like the scoundrel that he is. France is +crushed; the soldier is nothing; they deprive him of his dues; they +discharge him to make room for broken-down nobles--ah, 'tis pitiable! +They seized Napoleon by treachery; the English nailed him on a desert +island in mid-ocean on a rock raised ten thousand feet above the earth; +and there he is, and will be, till the Red Man gives him back his power +for the happiness of France. These others say he's dead. Ha, dead! 'Tis +easy to see they don't know Him. They tell that fib to catch the people, +and feel safe in their hovel of a government. Listen! the truth at the +bottom of it all is that his friends have left him alone on the desert +island to fulfil a prophecy, for I forgot to say that his name, +Napoleon, means 'lion of the desert.' Now this that I tell you is true +as the Gospel. All other tales that you hear about the Emperor are +follies without common-sense; because, d'ye see, God never gave to child +of woman born the right to stamp his name in red as _he_ did, on the +earth, which forever shall remember him! Long live Napoleon, the father +of his people and of the soldier!" + +"Long live General Eblé!" cried the pontonier. + +"How happened it you were not killed in the ravine at Moskova?" asked a +peasant woman. + +"How do I know? We went in a regiment, we came out a hundred +foot-soldiers; none but the lines were capable of taking that redoubt: +the infantry, d'ye see, that's the real army." + +"And the cavalry! what of that?" cried Genastas, letting himself roll +from the top of the hay, and appearing to us with a suddenness which +made the bravest utter a cry of terror. "Eh! my old veteran, you forget +the red lancers of Poniatowski, the cuirassiers, the dragoons! they that +shook the earth when Napoleon, impatient that the victory was delayed, +said to Murat, 'Sire, cut them in two.' Ha, we were off! first at a +trot, then at a gallop, 'one, two,' and the enemy's line was cut in +halves like an apple with a knife. A charge of cavalry, my old hero! +why, 'tis a column of cannon balls!" + +"How about the pontoniers?" cried Gondrin. + +"My children," said Genastas, becoming suddenly quite ashamed of his +sortie when he saw himself in the midst of a silent and bewildered +group, "there are no spies here,--see, take this and drink to the Little +Corporal." + +"LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!" cried all the people present, with one voice. + +"Hush, my children!" said the officer, struggling to control his +emotion. "Hush! _he is dead_. He died saying, 'Glory, France, and +battle.' My friends, he had to die, he! but his memory--never!" + +Goguelat made a gesture of disbelief; then he said in a low voice to +those nearest, "The officer is still in the service, and he's told to +tell the people the Emperor is dead. We mustn't be angry with him, +because, d'ye see, a soldier has to obey orders." + +As Genestas left the barn he heard the Fosseuse say, "That officer is a +friend of the Emperor and of Monsieur Benassis." On that, all the people +rushed to the door to get another sight of him, and by the light of the +moon they saw the doctor take his arm. + +"I committed a great folly," said Genestas. "Let us get home quickly. +Those eagles--the cannon--the campaigns! I no longer knew where I was." + +"What do you think of my Goguelat?" asked Benassis. + +"Monsieur, so long as such tales are told, France will carry in her +entrails the fourteen armies of the Republic, and may at any time renew +the conversation of cannon with all Europe. That's my opinion." + + + + +GEORGE BANCROFT + +(1800-1891) + +BY AUSTIN SCOTT + + +The life of George Bancroft was nearly conterminous with the nineteenth +century. He was born at Worcester, Mass., October 3d, 1800, and died at +Washington, D.C., January 17th, 1891. But it was not merely the stretch +of his years that identified him with this century. In some respects he +represented his time as no other of its men. He came into touch with +many widely differing elements which made up its life and character. He +spent most of his life in cities, but never lost the sense for country +sights and sounds which central Massachusetts gave him in Worcester, his +birthplace, and in Northampton, where he taught school. The home into +which he was born offered him from his infancy a rich possession. His +father was a Unitarian clergyman who wrote a 'Life of Washington' that +was received with favor; thus things concerning God and country were his +patrimony. Not without significance was a word of his mother which he +recalled in his latest years, "My son, I do not wish you to become a +rich man, but I would have you be an affluent man: _ad fluo_, always a +little more coming in than going out." + +To the advantages of his boyhood home and of Harvard College, to which +he went as a lad of thirteen, the eager young student added the +opportunity, then uncommon, of a systematic course of study in German, +and won the degree of Doctor of Philosophy at Göttingen in 1820. He had +in a marked degree the characteristics of his countrymen, versatility +and adaptability. Giving up an early purpose of fitting himself for the +pulpit, he taught in Harvard, and helped to found a school of an +advanced type at Northampton. Meantime he published a volume of verse, +and found out that the passionate love of poetry which lasted through +his life was not creative. At Northampton he published in 1828 a +translation in two volumes of Heeren's 'History of the Political System +of Europe,' and also edited two editions of a Latin Reader; but the +duties of a schoolmaster's life were early thrown aside, and he could +not be persuaded to resume them later when the headship of an important +educational institution was offered to him. Together with the one great +pursuit of his life, to which he remained true for sixty years, he +delighted in the activities of a politician, the duties of a statesman, +and the occupations of a man of affairs and of the world. + +[Illustration: GEORGE BANCROFT.] + +Bancroft received a large but insufficient vote as the Democratic +candidate for the Governorship of Massachusetts, and for a time he held +the office of Collector of the port of Boston. As Secretary of the Navy +in the Cabinet of Polk, he rendered to his country two distinct services +of great value: he founded the Naval School at Annapolis, and by his +prompt orders to the American commander in the Pacific waters he secured +the acquisition of California for the United States. The special +abilities he displayed in the Cabinet were such, so Polk thought, as to +lead to his appointment as Minister to England in 1846. He was a +diplomat of no mean order. President Johnson appointed him Minister to +Germany in 1867, and Grant retained him at that post until 1874, as long +as Bancroft desired it. During his stay there he concluded just +naturalization treaties with Germany, and in a masterly way won from the +Emperor, William I., as arbitrator, judgment in favor of the United +States's claim over that of Great Britain in the Northwestern +boundary dispute. + +Always holding fast his one cherished object,--that of worthily writing +the history of the United States,--Bancroft did not deny himself the +pleasure of roaming in other fields. He wrote frequently on current +topics, on literary, historical, and political subjects. His eulogies of +Jackson and of Lincoln, pronounced before Congress, entitle him to the +rank of an orator. He was very fond of studies in metaphysics, and +Trendelenburg, the eminent German philosopher, said of him, "Bancroft +knows Kant through and through." + +His home--whether in Boston, or in New York where he spent the middle +portion of his life, or in Washington his abode for the last sixteen +years, or during his residence abroad--was the scene of the occupations +and delights which the highest culture craves. He was gladly welcomed to +the inner circle of the finest minds of Germany, and the tribute of the +German men of learning was unfeigned and universal when he quitted the +country in 1874. Many of the best men of England and of France were +among his warm friends. At his table were gathered from time to time +some of the world's greatest thinkers,--men of science, soldiers, +statesmen and men of affairs. Fond as he was of social joys, it was his +daily pleasure to mount his horse and alone, or with a single companion, +to ride where nature in her shy or in her exuberant mood inspired. One +day, after he was eighty years old, he rode on his young, blooded +Kentucky horse along the Virginia bank of the Potomac for more than +thirty-six miles. He could be seen every day among the perfect roses of +his garden at "Roseclyffe," his Newport summer-home, often full of +thought, at other times in wellnigh boisterous glee, always giving +unstinted care and expense to the queen of flowers. The books in which +he kept the record of the rose garden were almost as elaborate as those +in which were entered the facts and fancies out of which his History +grew. His home life was charming. By a careful use of opportunities and +of his means he became an "affluent" man. He was twice married: both +times a new source of refined domestic happiness long blessed his home, +and new means for enlarged comfort and hospitality were added to his +own. Two sons, children of his first wife, survived him. + +Some of Bancroft's characteristics were not unlike those of Jefferson. A +constant tendency to idealize called up in him at times a feeling +verging on impatience with the facts or the men that stood in the way of +a theory or the accomplishment of a personal desire. He had a keen +perception of an underlying or a final truth and professed warm love for +it, whether in the large range of history or in the nexus of current +politics: any one taking a different point of view at times was led to +think that his facts, as he stated them, lay crosswise, and might +therefore find the perspective out of drawing, but could not rightly +impugn his good faith. + +Although a genuine lover of his race and a believer in Democracy, he was +not always ready to put implicit trust in the individual as being +capable of exercising a wise judgment and the power of true +self-direction. For man he avowed a perfect respect; among men his +bearing showed now and then a trace of condescension. In controversies +over disputed points of history--and he had many such--he meant to be +fair and to anticipate the final verdict of truth, but overwhelming +evidence was necessary to convince him that his judgment, formed after +painstaking research, could be wrong. His ample love of justice, +however, is proved by his passionate appreciation of the character of +Washington, by his unswerving devotion to the conception of our national +unity, both in its historical development and at the moment when it was +imperiled by civil war, and by his hatred of slavery and of false +financial policies. He took pleasure in giving generously, but always +judiciously and without ostentation. On one occasion he, with a few of +his friends, paid off the debt from the house of an eminent scholar; on +another, he helped to rebuild for a great thinker the home which had +been burned. At Harvard, more than fifty years after his graduation, he +founded a traveling scholarship and named it in honor of the president +of his college days. + +As to the manner of his work, Bancroft laid large plans and gave to the +details of their execution unwearied zeal. The scope of the 'History of +the United States' as he planned it was admirable. In carrying it out he +was persistent in acquiring materials, sparing no pains in his research +at home and abroad, and no cost in securing original papers or exact +copies and transcripts from the archives of England and France, Spain +and Holland and Germany, from public libraries and from individuals; he +fished in all waters and drew fish of all sorts into his net. He took +great pains, and the secretaries whom he employed to aid him in his work +were instructed likewise to take great pains, not only to enter facts in +the reference books in their chronological order, but to make all +possible cross-references to related facts. The books of his library, +which was large and rich in treasures, he used as tools, and many of +them were filled with cross references. In the fly-leaves of the books +he read he made note with a word and the cited page of what the printed +pages contained of interest to him or of value in his work. + +His mind was one of quick perceptions within a wide range, and always +alert to grasp an idea in its manifold relations. It is remarkable, +therefore, that he was very laborious in his method of work. He often +struggled long with a thought for intellectual mastery. In giving it +expression, his habit was to dictate rapidly and with enthusiasm and at +great length, but he usually selected the final form after repeated +efforts. His first draft of a chapter was revised again and again and +condensed. One of his early volumes in its first manuscript form was +eight times as long as when finally published. He had another striking +habit, that of writing by topics rather than in strict chronological +order, so that a chapter which was to find its place late in the volume +was often completed before one which was to precede it. Partly by nature +and perhaps partly by this practice, he had the power to carry on +simultaneously several trains of thought. When preparing one of his +public orations, it was remarked by one of his household that after an +evening spent over a trifling game of bezique, the next morning found +him well advanced beyond the point where the work had been seemingly +laid down. He had the faculty of buoying a thought, knowing just where +to take it up after an interruption and deftly splicing it in continuous +line, sometimes after a long interval. When about to begin the +preparation of the argument which was to sustain triumphantly the claim +of the United States in the boundary question, he wrote from Berlin for +copies of documents filed in the office of the Navy Department, which he +remembered were there five-and-twenty years before. + +The 'History of the United States from the Discovery of America to the +Inauguration of Washington' is treated by Bancroft in three parts. The +first, Colonial History from 1492 to 1748, occupies more than one fourth +of his pages. The second part, the American Revolution, 1748 to 1782, +claims more than one half of the entire work, and is divided into four +epochs:--the first, 1748-1763, is entitled 'The Overthrow of the +European Colonial System'; the second, 1763-1774, 'How Great Britain +Estranged America'; the third, 1774-1776, 'America Declares Itself +Independent'; the fourth, 1776-1782, 'The Independence of America is +Acknowledged.' The last part, 'The History of the Formation of the +Constitution,' 1782-1789, though published as a separate work, is +essentially a continuation of the History proper, of which it forms in +bulk rather more than one tenth. + +If his services as a historian are to be judged by any one portion of +his work rather than by another, the history of the formation of the +Constitution affords the best test. In that the preceding work comes to +fruition; the time of its writing, after the Civil War and the +consequent settling of the one vexing question by the abolition of +sectionalism, and when he was in the fullness of the experience of his +own ripe years, was most opportune. Bancroft was equal to his +opportunity. He does not teach us that the Constitution is the result of +superhuman wisdom, nor on the other hand does he admit, as John Adams +asserted, that however excellent, the Constitution was wrung "from the +grinding necessity of a reluctant people." He does not fail to point out +the critical nature of the four years prior to the meeting of the +Federal Convention; but he discerns that whatever occasions, whether +transitory or for the time of "steady and commanding influence," may +help or hinder the formation of the now perfect union, its true cause +was "an indwelling necessity" in the people to "form above the States a +common constitution for the whole." + +Recognizing the fact that the primary cause for the true union was +remote in origin and deep and persistent, Bancroft gives a retrospect of +the steps toward union from the founding of the colonies to the close of +the war for independence. Thenceforward, suggestions as to method or +form of amending the Articles of Confederation, whether made by +individuals, or State Legislatures, or by Congress, were in his view +helps indeed to promote the movement; but they were first of all so many +proofs that despite all the contrary wayward surface indications, the +strong current was flowing independently toward the just and perfect +union. Having acknowledged this fundamental fact of the critical years +between Yorktown and the Constitution, the historian is free to give +just and discriminating praise to all who shared at that time in +redeeming the political hope of mankind, to give due but not exclusive +honor to Washington and Thomas Paine, to Madison and Hamilton and their +co-worthies. + +The many attempts, isolated or systematic, during the period from +1781-1786, to reform the Articles of Confederation, were happily futile; +but they were essential in the training of the people in the +consciousness of the nature of the work for which they are responsible. +The balances must come slowly to a poise. Not merely union strong and +for a time effective, was needed, but union of a certain and +unprecedented sort: one in which the true pledge of permanency for a +continental republic was to be found in the federative principle, by +which the highest activities of nation and of State were conditioned +each by the welfare of the other. The people rightly felt, too, that a +Congress of one house would be inadequate and dangerous. They waited in +the midst of risks for the proper hour, and then, not reluctantly but +resolutely, adopted the Constitution as a promising experiment in +government. + +Bancroft's treatment of the evolution of the second great organic act of +this time--the Northwestern ordinance--is no less just and true to the +facts. For two generations men had snatched at the laurels due to the +creator of that matchless piece of legislation; to award them now to +Jefferson, now to Nathan Dane, now to Rufus King, now to Manasseh +Cutler. Bancroft calmly and clearly shows how the great law grew with +the kindly aid and watchful care of these men and of others. + +The deliberations of the Federal Constitution are adequately recorded; +and he gives fair relative recognition to the work and words of +individuals, and the actions of State delegations in making the great +adjustments between nation and States, between large and small and slave +and free States. From his account we infer that the New Jersey plan was +intended by its authors only for temporary use in securing equality for +the States in one essential part of the government, while the men from +Connecticut receive credit for the compromise which reconciled +nationality with true State rights. Further to be noticed are the +results of the exhaustive study which Bancroft gave to the matter of +paper money, and to the meaning of the clause prohibiting the States +from impairing the obligation of contracts. He devotes nearly one +hundred pages to 'The People of the States in Judgment on the +Constitution,' and rightly; for it is the final act of the separate +States, and by it their individual wills are merged in the will of the +people, which is one, though still politically distributed and active +within State lines. His summary of the main principles of the +Constitution is excellent; and he concludes with a worthy sketch of the +organization of the first Congress under the Constitution, and of the +inauguration of Washington as President. + +In this last portion of the 'History,' while all of his merits as a +historian are not conspicuous, neither are some of his chief defects. +Here the tendency to philosophize, to marshal stately sentences, and to +be discursive, is not so marked. + +The first volume of Bancroft's 'History of the United States' was +published in 1834, when the democratic spirit was finding its first full +expression under Jackson, and when John Marshall was finishing his +mighty task of revealing to the people of the United States the strength +that lay in their organic law. As he put forth volume after volume at +irregular intervals for fifty years, he in a measure continued this work +of bringing to the exultant consciousness of the people the value of +their possession of a continent of liberty and the realization of their +responsibility. In the course of another generation, portions of this +'History of the United States' may begin to grow antiquated, though the +most brilliant of contemporary journalists quite recently placed it +among the ten books indispensable to every American; but time cannot +take away Bancroft's good part in producing influences, which, however +they may vary in form and force, will last throughout the nation's life. + +[Illustration: Signature: Austin Scott] + + +THE BEGINNINGS OF VIRGINIA + +From 'History of the United States' + +The period of success in planting Virginia had arrived; yet not till +changes in European politics and society had molded the forms of +colonization. The Reformation had broken the harmony of religious +opinion; and differences in the Church began to constitute the basis of +political parties. After the East Indies had been reached by doubling +the southern promontory of Africa, the great commerce of the world was +carried upon the ocean. The art of printing had been perfected and +diffused; and the press spread intelligence and multiplied the +facilities of instruction. The feudal institutions, which had been +reared in the middle ages, were already undermined by the current of +time and events, and, swaying from their base, threatened to fall. +Productive industry had built up the fortunes and extended the influence +of the active classes; while habits of indolence and expense had +impaired the estates and diminished the power of the nobility. These +changes produced corresponding results in the institutions which were to +rise in America. + +A revolution had equally occurred in the purposes for which voyages were +undertaken. The hope of Columbus, as he sailed to the west, had been +the discovery of a new passage to the East Indies. The passion for gold +next became the prevailing motive. Then the islands and countries near +the equator were made the tropical gardens of the Europeans. At last, +the higher design was matured: to plant permanent Christian colonies; to +establish for the oppressed and the enterprising places of refuge and +abode; to found states in a temperate clime, with all the elements of +independent existence. + +In the imperfect condition of industry, a redundant population had +existed in England even before the peace with Spain, which threw out of +employment the gallant men who had served under Elizabeth by sea and +land, and left them no option but to engage as mercenaries in the +quarrels of strangers, or incur the hazards of "seeking a New World." +The minds of many persons of intelligence and rank were directed to +Virginia. The brave and ingenious Gosnold, who had himself witnessed the +fertility of the western soil, long solicited the concurrence of his +friends for the establishment of a colony, and at last prevailed with +Edward Maria Wingfield, a merchant of the west of England, Robert Hunt, +a clergyman of fortitude and modest worth, and John Smith, an adventurer +of rarest qualities, to risk their lives and hopes of fortune in an +expedition. For more than a year this little company revolved the +project of a plantation. At the same time Sir Ferdinando Gorges was +gathering information of the native Americans, whom he had received from +Waymouth, and whose descriptions of the country, joined to the favorable +views which he had already imbibed, filled him with the strongest desire +of becoming a proprietary of domains beyond the Atlantic. Gorges was a +man of wealth, rank and influence; he readily persuaded Sir John Popham, +Lord Chief Justice of England, to share his intentions. Nor had the +assigns of Raleigh become indifferent to "western planting"; which the +most distinguished of them all, "industrious Hakluyt," the historian of +maritime enterprise, still promoted by his personal exertions, his +weight of character, and his invincible zeal. Possessed of whatever +information could be derived from foreign sources and a correspondence +with eminent navigators of his times, and anxiously watching the +progress of Englishmen in the West, his extensive knowledge made him a +counselor in every colonial enterprise. + +The King of England, too timid to be active, yet too vain to be +indifferent, favored the design of enlarging his dominions. He had +attempted in Scotland the introduction of the arts of life among the +Highlanders and the Western Isles, by the establishment of colonies; and +the Scottish plantations which he founded in the northern counties of +Ireland contributed to the affluence and the security of that island. +When, therefore, a company of men of business and men of rank, formed by +the experience of Gosnold, the enthusiasm of Smith, the perseverance of +Hakluyt, the influence of Popham and Gorges, applied to James I. for +leave "to deduce a colony into Virginia," the monarch, on the tenth of +April, 1606, readily set his seal to an ample patent. + +The first colonial charter, under which the English were planted in +America, deserves careful consideration. + +Appleton and Company, New York. + + +MEN AND GOVERNMENT IN EARLY MASSACHUSETTS + +From 'History of the United States' + +These better auspices, and the invitations of Winthrop, won new +emigrants from Europe. During the long summer voyage of the two hundred +passengers who freighted the Griffin, three sermons a day beguiled their +weariness. Among them was Haynes, a man of very large estate, and larger +affections; of a "heavenly" mind, and a spotless life; of rare sagacity, +and accurate but unassuming judgment; by nature tolerant, ever a friend +to freedom, ever conciliating peace; an able legislator; dear to the +people by his benevolent virtues and his disinterested conduct. Then +also came the most revered spiritual teachers of two commonwealths: the +acute and subtle Cotton, the son of a Puritan lawyer; eminent in +Cambridge as a scholar; quick in the nice perception of distinctions, +and pliant in dialects; in manner persuasive rather than commanding; +skilled in the fathers and the schoolmen, but finding all their wisdom +compactly stored in Calvin; deeply devout by nature as well as habit +from childhood; hating heresy and still precipitately eager to prevent +evil actions by suppressing ill opinions, yet verging toward a progress +in truth and in religious freedom; an avowed enemy to democracy, which +he feared as the blind despotism of animal instincts in the multitude, +yet opposing hereditary power in all its forms; desiring a government of +moral opinion, according to the laws of universal equity, and claiming +"the ultimate resolution for the whole body of the people:" and Hooker, +of vast endowments, a strong will and an energetic mind; ingenuous in +his temper, and open in his professions; trained to benevolence by the +discipline of affliction; versed in tolerance by his refuge in Holland; +choleric, yet gentle in his affections; firm in his faith, yet readily +yielding to the power of reason; the peer of the reformers, without +their harshness; the devoted apostle to the humble and the poor, severe +toward the proud, mild in his soothings of a wounded spirit, glowing +with the raptures of devotion, and kindling with the messages of +redeeming love; his eye, voice, gesture, and whole frame animate with +the living vigor of heart-felt religion; public-spirited and lavishly +charitable; and, "though persecutions and banishments had awaited him as +one wave follows another," ever serenely blessed with "a glorious peace +of soul"; fixed in his trust in Providence, and in his adhesion to that +cause of advancing civilization, which he cherished always, even while +it remained to him a mystery. This was he whom, for his abilities and +services, his contemporaries placed "in the first rank" of men; praising +him as "the one rich pearl, with which Europe more than repaid America +for the treasures from her coast." The people to whom Hooker ministered +had preceded him; as he landed they crowded about him with their +welcome. "Now I live," exclaimed he, as with open arms he embraced them, +"now I live if ye stand fast in the Lord." + +Thus recruited, the little band in Massachusetts grew more jealous of +its liberties. "The prophets in exile see the true forms of the house." +By a common impulse, the freemen of the towns chose deputies to consider +in advance the duties of the general court. The charter plainly gave +legislative power to the whole body of the freemen; if it allowed +representatives, thought Winthrop, it was only by inference; and, as the +whole people could not always assemble, the chief power, it was argued, +lay necessarily with the assistants. + +Far different was the reasoning of the people. To check the democratic +tendency, Cotton, on the election day, preached to the assembled freemen +against rotation in office. The right of an honest magistrate to his +place was like that of a proprietor to his freehold. But the electors, +now between three and four hundred in number, were bent on exercising +"their absolute power," and, reversing the decision of the pulpit, chose +a new governor and deputy. The mode of taking the votes was at the same +time reformed; and, instead of the erection of hands, the ballot-box was +introduced. Thus "the people established a reformation of such things as +they judged to be amiss in the government." + +It was further decreed that the whole body of the freemen should be +convened only for the election of the magistrates: to these, with +deputies to be chosen by the several towns, the powers of legislation +and appointment were henceforward intrusted. The trading corporation was +unconsciously become a representative democracy. + +The law against arbitrary taxation followed. None but the immediate +representatives of the people might dispose of lands or raise money. +Thus early did Massachusetts echo the voice of Virginia, like deep +calling unto deep. The state was filled with the hum of village +politicians; "the freemen of every town in the Bay were busy in +inquiring into their liberties and privileges." With the exception of +the principle of universal suffrage, now so happily established, the +representative democracy was as perfect two centuries ago as it is +to-day. Even the magistrates, who acted as judges, held their office by +the annual popular choice. "Elections cannot be safe there long," said +the lawyer Lechford. The same prediction has been made these two hundred +years. The public mind, ever in perpetual agitation, is still easily +shaken, even by slight and transient impulses; but, after all +vibrations, it follows the laws of the moral world, and safely recovers +its balance. + +Appleton and Company, New York. + + +KING PHILIP'S WAR + +From 'History of the United States' + +Thus was Philip hurried into "his rebellion"; and he is reported to have +wept as he heard that a white man's blood had been shed. He had kept his +men about him in arms, and had welcomed every stranger; and yet, against +his judgment and his will, he was involved in war. For what prospect had +he of success? The English were united; the Indians had no alliance: the +English made a common cause; half the Indians were allies of the +English, or were quiet spectators of the fight: the English had guns +enough; but few of the Indians were well armed, and they could get no +new supplies: the English had towns for their shelter and safe retreat; +the miserable wigwams of the natives were defenseless: the English had +sure supplies of food; the Indians might easily lose their precarious +stores. Frenzy prompted their rising. They rose without hope, and they +fought without mercy. For them as a nation, there was no to-morrow. + +The minds of the English were appalled by the horrors of the impending +conflict, and superstition indulged in its wild inventions. At the time +of the eclipse of the moon, you might have seen the figure of an Indian +scalp imprinted on the centre of its disk. The perfect form of an Indian +bow appeared in the sky. The sighing of the wind was like the whistling +of bullets. Some heard invisible troops of horses gallop through the +air, while others found the prophecy of calamities in the howling of +the wolves. + +At the very beginning of danger the colonists exerted their wonted +energy. Volunteers from Massachusetts joined the troops from Plymouth; +and, within a week from the commencement of hostilities, the insulated +Pokanokets were driven from Mount Hope, and in less than a month Philip +was a fugitive among the Nipmucks, the interior tribes of Massachusetts. +The little army of the colonists then entered the territory of the +Narragansetts, and from the reluctant tribe extorted a treaty of +neutrality, with a promise to deliver up every hostile Indian. Victory +seemed promptly assured. But it was only the commencement of horrors. +Canonchet, the chief sachem of the Narragansetts, was the son of +Miantonomoh; and could he forget his father's wrongs? Desolation +extended along the whole frontier. Banished from his patrimony, where +the pilgrims found a friend, and from his cabin, which had sheltered the +exiles, Philip, with his warriors, spread through the country, awakening +their brethren to a warfare of extermination. + +The war, on the part of the Indians, was one of ambuscades and +surprises. They never once met the English in open field; but always, +even if eightfold in numbers, fled timorously before infantry. They were +secret as beasts of prey, skillful marksmen, and in part provided with +firearms, fleet of foot, conversant with all the paths of the forest, +patient of fatigue, and mad with a passion for rapine, vengeance, and +destruction, retreating into swamps for their fastnesses, or hiding in +the greenwood thickets, where the leaves muffled the eyes of the +pursuer. By the rapidity of their descent, they seemed omnipresent among +the scattered villages, which they ravished like a passing storm; and +for a full year they kept all New England in a state of terror and +excitement. The exploring party was waylaid and cut off, and the mangled +carcasses and disjointed limbs of the dead were hung upon the trees. The +laborer in the field, the reapers as they sallied forth to the harvest, +men as they went to mill, the shepherd's boy among the sheep, were shot +down by skulking foes, whose approach was invisible. Who can tell the +heavy hours of woman? The mother, if left alone in the house, feared the +tomahawk for herself and children; on the sudden attack, the husband +would fly with one child, the wife with another, and, perhaps, one only +escape; the village cavalcade, making its way to meeting on Sunday in +files on horseback, the farmer holding the bridle in one hand and a +child in the other, his wife seated on a pillion behind him, it may be +with a child in her lap, as was the fashion in those days, could not +proceed safely; but, at the moment when least expected, bullets would +whizz among them, sent from an unseen enemy by the wayside. The forest +that protected the ambush of the Indians secured their retreat. + +D. Appleton and Company, New York. + + +THE NEW NETHERLAND + +From 'History of the United States' + +During the absence of Stuyvesant from Manhattan, the warriors of the +neighboring Algonkin tribes, never reposing confidence in the Dutch, +made a desperate assault on the colony. In sixty-four canoes they +appeared before the town, and ravaged the adjacent country. The return +of the expedition restored confidence. The captives were ransomed, and +industry repaired its losses. The Dutch seemed to have firmly +established their power, and promised themselves happier years. New +Netherland consoled them for the loss of Brazil. They exulted in the +possession of an admirable territory, that needed no embankments against +the ocean. They were proud of its vast extent,--from New England to +Maryland, from the sea to the Great River of Canada, and the remote +Northwestern wilderness. They sounded with exultation the channel of the +deep stream, which was no longer shared with the Swedes; they counted +with delight its many lovely runs of water, on which the beavers built +their villages; and the great travelers who had visited every continent, +as they ascended the Delaware, declared it one of the noblest rivers in +the world, with banks more inviting than the lands on the Amazon. + +Meantime, the country near the Hudson gained by increasing emigration. +Manhattan was already the chosen abode of merchants; and the policy of +the government invited them by its good-will. If Stuyvesant sometimes +displayed the rash despotism of a soldier, he was sure to be reproved by +his employers. Did he change the rate of duties arbitrarily, the +directors, sensitive to commercial honor, charged him "to keep every +contract inviolate." Did he tamper with the currency by raising the +nominal value of foreign coin, the measure was rebuked as dishonest. Did +he attempt to fix the price of labor by arbitrary rules, this also was +condemned as unwise and impracticable. Did he interfere with the +merchants by inspecting their accounts, the deed was censured as without +precedent "in Christendom"; and he was ordered to "treat the merchants +with kindness, lest they return, and the country be depopulated." Did +his zeal for Calvinism lead him to persecute Lutherans, he was chid for +his bigotry. Did his hatred of "the abominable sect of Quakers" imprison +and afterward exile the blameless Bowne, "let every peaceful citizen," +wrote the directors, "enjoy freedom of conscience; this maxim has made +our city the asylum for fugitives from every land; tread in its steps, +and you shall be blessed." + +Private worship was therefore allowed to every religion. Opinion, if not +yet enfranchised, was already tolerated. The people of Palestine, from +the destruction of their temple an outcast and a wandering race, were +allured by the traffic and the condition of the New World; and not the +Saxon and Celtic races only, the children of the bondmen that broke from +slavery in Egypt, the posterity of those who had wandered in Arabia, and +worshiped near Calvary, found a home, liberty, and a burial place on the +island of Manhattan. + +The emigrants from Holland were themselves of the most various lineage; +for Holland had long been the gathering-place of the unfortunate. Could +we trace the descent of the emigrants from the Low Countries to New +Netherland, we should be carried not only to the banks of the Rhine and +the borders of the German Sea, but to the Protestants who escaped from +France after the massacre of Bartholomew's Eve, and to those earlier +inquirers who were swayed by the voice of Huss in the heart of Bohemia. +New York was always a city of the world. Its settlers were relics of the +first fruits of the Reformation, chosen from the Belgic provinces and +England, from France and Bohemia, from Germany and Switzerland, from +Piedmont and the Italian Alps. + +The religious sects, which, in the middle ages, had been fostered by the +municipal liberties of the south of France, were the harbingers of +modern freedom, and had therefore been sacrificed to the inexorable +feudalism of the north. After a bloody conflict, the plebeian reformers, +crushed by the merciless leaders of the military aristocracy, escaped to +the highlands that divide France and Italy. Preserving the discipline of +a benevolent, ascetic morality, with the simplicity of a +spiritual worship, + + "When all our fathers worshiped stocks and stones," + +it was found, on the progress of the Reformation, that they had by three +centuries anticipated Luther and Calvin. The hurricane of persecution, +which was to have swept Protestantism from the earth, did not spare +their seclusion; mothers with infants were rolled down the rocks, and +the bones of martyrs scattered on the Alpine mountains. The city of +Amsterdam offered the fugitive Waldenses a free passage to America, and +a welcome was prepared in New Netherland for the few who were willing +to emigrate. + +The persecuted of every creed and every clime were invited to the +colony. When the Protestant churches in Rochelle were razed, the +Calvinists of that city were gladly admitted; and the French Protestants +came in such numbers that the public documents were sometimes issued in +French as well as in Dutch and English. Troops of orphans were shipped +for the milder destinies of the New World; a free passage was offered to +mechanics; for "population was known to be the bulwark of every State." +The government of New Netherland had formed just ideas of the fit +materials for building a commonwealth; they desired "farmers and +laborers, foreigners and exiles, men inured to toil and penury." The +colony increased; children swarmed in every village; the advent of the +year and the month of May were welcomed with noisy frolics; new modes of +activity were devised; lumber was shipped to France; the whale pursued +off the coast; the vine, the mulberry, planted; flocks of sheep as well +as cattle were multiplied; and tile, so long imported from Holland, +began to be manufactured near Fort Orange. New Amsterdam could, in a few +years, boast of stately buildings, and almost vied with Boston. "This +happily situated province," said its inhabitants, "may become the +granary of our fatherland; should our Netherlands be wasted by grievous +wars, it will offer our countrymen a safe retreat; by God's blessing, we +shall in a few years become a mighty people." + +Thus did various nations of the Caucasian race assist in colonizing our +central states. + +D. Appleton and Company, New York. + + +FRANKLIN + +From 'History of the United States' + +Franklin looked quietly and deeply into the secrets of nature. His clear +understanding was never perverted by passion, nor corrupted by the pride +of theory. The son of a rigid Calvinist, the grandson of a tolerant +Quaker, he had from boyhood been familiar not only with theological +subtilities, but with a catholic respect for freedom of mind. Skeptical +of tradition as the basis of faith, he respected reason rather than +authority; and, after a momentary lapse into fatalism, he gained with +increasing years an increasing trust in the overruling providence of +God. Adhering to none of all the religions in the colonies, he yet +devoutly, though without form, adhered to religion. But though famous as +a disputant, and having a natural aptitude for metaphysics, he obeyed +the tendency of his age, and sought by observation to win an insight +into the mysteries of being. The best observers praise his method most. +He so sincerely loved truth, that in his pursuit of her she met him +half-way. Without prejudice and without bias, he discerned intuitively +the identity of the laws of nature with those of which humanity is +conscious; so that his mind was like a mirror, in which the universe, as +it reflected itself, revealed her laws. His morality, repudiating +ascetic severities and the system which enjoins them, was indulgent to +appetites of which he abhorred the sway; but his affections were of a +calm intensity: in all his career, the love of man held the mastery over +personal interest. He had not the imagination which inspires the bard or +kindles the orator; but an exquisite propriety, parsimonious of +ornament, gave ease, correctness, and graceful simplicity even to his +most careless writings. In life, also, his tastes were delicate. +Indifferent to the pleasures of the table, he relished the delights of +music and harmony, of which he enlarged the instruments. His blandness +of temper, his modesty, the benignity of his manners, made him the +favorite of intelligent society; and, with healthy cheerfulness, he +derived pleasure from books, from philosophy, from conversation,--now +administering consolation to the sorrower, now indulging in +light-hearted gayety. In his intercourse, the universality of his +perceptions bore, perhaps, the character of humor; but, while he clearly +discerned the contrast between the grandeur of the universe and the +feebleness of man, a serene benevolence saved him from contempt of his +race or disgust at its toils. To superficial observers, he might have +seemed as an alien from speculative truth, limiting himself to the world +of the senses; and yet, in study, and among men, his mind always sought +to discover and apply the general principles by which nature and affairs +are controlled,--now deducing from the theory of caloric improvements in +fireplaces and lanterns, and now advancing human freedom by firm +inductions from the inalienable rights of man. Never professing +enthusiasm, never making a parade of sentiment, his practical wisdom was +sometimes mistaken for the offspring of selfish prudence; yet his hope +was steadfast, like that hope which rests on the Rock of Ages, and his +conduct was as unerring as though the light that led him was a light +from heaven. He never anticipated action by theories of self-sacrificing +virtue; and yet, in the moments of intense activity, he from the abodes +of ideal truth brought down and applied to the affairs of life the +principles of goodness, as unostentatiously as became the man who with a +kite and hempen string drew lightning from the skies. He separated +himself so little from his age that he has been called the +representative of materialism; and yet, when he thought on religion, his +mind passed beyond reliance on sects to faith in God; when he wrote on +politics, he founded freedom on principles that know no change; when he +turned an observing eye on nature, he passed from the effect to the +cause, from individual appearances to universal laws; when he reflected +on history, his philosophic mind found gladness and repose in the clear +anticipation of the progress of humanity. + + +End of Volume III. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Library Of The World's Best +Literature, Ancient And Modern, Vol 3, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIBRARY OF THE WORLD'S BEST *** + +***** This file should be named 13028-8.txt or 13028-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/2/13028/ + +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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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 3 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 26, 2004 [EBook #13028] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIBRARY OF THE WORLD'S BEST *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charlie Kirschner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h2>LIBRARY OF THE</h2> +<h1>WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE</h1> +<h3>ANCIENT AND MODERN</h3> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<h2>CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER</h2> +<h4>EDITOR</h4> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<h3>HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE<br> +LUCIA GILBERT RUNKLE<br> +GEORGE HENRY WARNER</h3> +<h4>ASSOCIATE EDITORS</h4> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<h3>Connoisseur Edition</h3> +<h4>VOL. III.</h4> +<h5>1896</h5> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>THE ADVISORY COUNCIL</h2> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>CRAWFORD H. TOY, A.M., LL.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">Professor of Hebrew,</p> +<p class="i2">HARVARD UNIVERSITY, Cambridge, Mass.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>THOMAS R. LOUNSBURY, LL.D., L.H.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">Professor of English in the Sheffield Scientific +School of</p> +<p class="i2">YALE UNIVERSITY, New Haven, Conn.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>WILLIAM M. SLOANE, PH.D., L.H.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">Professor of History and Political Science,</p> +<p class="i2">PRINCETON UNIVERSITY, Princeton, N.J.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>BRANDER MATTHEWS, A.M., LL.B.,</p> +<p class="i2">Professor of Literature,</p> +<p class="i2">COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, New York City.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>JAMES B. ANGELL, LL.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">President of the</p> +<p class="i2">UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN, Ann Arbor, Mich.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>WILLARD FISKE, A.M., PH.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">Late Professor of the Germanic and Scandinavian +Languages and Literatures,</p> +<p class="i2">CORNELL UNIVERSITY, Ithaca, N.Y.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>EDWARD S. HOLDEN, A.M., LL.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">Director of the Lick Observatory, and Astronomer</p> +<p class="i2">UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, Berkeley, Cal.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>ALCÉE FORTIER, LIT.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">Professor of the Romance Languages,</p> +<p class="i2">TULANE UNIVERSITY, New Orleans, La.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>WILLIAM P. TRENT, M.A.,</p> +<p class="i2">Dean of the Department of Arts and Sciences, and +Professor of English and History,</p> +<p class="i2">UNIVERSITY OF THE SOUTH, Sewanee, Tenn.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>PAUL SHOREY, PH.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">Professor of Greek and Latin Literature,</p> +<p class="i2">UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO, Chicago, Ill.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>WILLIAM T. HARRIS, LL.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">United States Commissioner of Education,</p> +<p class="i2">BUREAU OF EDUCATION, Washington, D.C.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN, A.M., LL.D.,</p> +<p class="i2">Professor of Literature in the</p> +<p class="i2">CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA, Washington, D.C.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> +<br> +<h3>VOL. III.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#AUERBACH">BERTHOLD AUERBACH</a>--<i>Continued:</i> -- +1812-1882</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AURBACH_1">The First False Step ('On the +Heights')</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AURBACH_2">The New Home and the Old One +(same)</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AURBACH_3">The Court Physician's Philosophy +(same)</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AURBACH_4">In Countess Irma's Diary +(same)</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#AUGIER">ÉMILE AUGIER</a> -- 1820-1889</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGIER_1">A Conversation with a Purpose +('Giboyer's Boy')</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGIER_2">A Severe Young Judge ('The +Adventuress')</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGIER_3">A Contented Idler ('M. Poirier's +Son-in-Law')</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGIER_4">Feelings of an Artist +(same)</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGIER_5">A Contest of Wills ('The +Fourchambaults')</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#AUGUSTINE">ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO</a> (by Samuel Hart) +-- 354-430</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGUSTINE_1">The Godly Sorrow that Worketh +Repentance</a> ('The Confessions')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGUSTINE_2">Consolation</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGUSTINE_3">The Foes of the City</a> ('The +City of God')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGUSTINE_4">The Praise of God</a> +(same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUGUSTINE_5">A Prayer</a> ('The +Trinity')</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#ANTONINUS">MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS</a> -- A.D. +121-180</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#ANTONINUS_1">Reflections</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#AUSTEN">JANE AUSTEN</a> -- 1775-1817</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUSTEN_1">An Offer of Marriage</a> ('Pride +and Prejudice')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUSTEN_2">Mother and Daughter</a> +(same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUSTEN_3">A Letter of Condolence</a> +(same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUSTEN_4">A Well-Matched Sister and +Brother</a> ('Northanger Abbey')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUSTEN_5">Family Doctors</a> ('Emma')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUSTEN_6">Family Training</a> ('Mansfield +Park')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUSTEN_7">Private Theatricals</a> +(same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AUSTEN_8">Fruitless Regrets and Apples of +Sodom</a> (same)</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#AVERRO">AVERROËS</a> -- 1126-1198</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#AVESTA">THE AVESTA</a> (by A.V. Williams Jackson)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_1">Psalm of Zoroaster</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_2">Prayer for Knowledge</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_3">The Angel of Divine +Obedience</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_4">To the Fire</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_5">The Goddess of the Waters</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_6">Guardian Spirits</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_7">An Ancient Sindbad</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_8">The Wise Man</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_9">Invocation to Rain</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_10">Prayer for Healing</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVESTA_11">Fragment</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#AVICEBRON">AVICEBRON</a> -- 1028-?1058</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AVICEBRON_1">On Matter and Form</a> ('The +Fountain of Life')</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#ROBERT_AYTOUN">ROBERT AYTOUN</a> -- 1570-1638</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AYTOUN_1">Inconstancy Upbraided</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AYTOUN_2">Lines to an Inconstant +Mistress</a> (with Burns's Adaptation)</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#WILLIAM_EDMONSTOUNE_AYTOUN">WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE +AYTOUN</a> -- 1813-1865</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AYTOUN_3">Burial March of Dundee</a> ('Lays +of the Scottish Cavaliers')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AYTOUN_4">Execution of Montrose</a> +(same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AYTOUN_5">The Broken Pitcher</a> ('Bon +Gaultier Ballads')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AYTOUN_6">Sonnet to Britain. "By the Duke +of Wellington"</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AYTOUN_7">A Ball in the Upper Circles</a> +('The Modern Endymion')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AYTOUN_8">A Highland Tramp</a> ('Norman +Sinclair')</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#AZEGLIO">MASSIMO TAPARELLI D'AZEGLIO</a> -- +1798-1866</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AZEGLIO_1">A Happy Childhood</a> ('My +Recollections')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AZEGLIO_2">The Priesthood</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#AZEGLIO_3">My First Venture in Romance</a> +(same)</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BABER">BABER</a> (by Edward S. Holden) -- +1482-1530</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABER_1">From Baber's 'Memoirs'</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BABRIUS">BABRIUS</a> -- First Century A.D.</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_1">The North Wind and the +Sun</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_2">Jupiter and the Monkey</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_3">The Mouse that Fell into the +Pot</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_4">The Fox and the Grapes</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_5">The Carter and Hercules</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_6">The Young Cocks</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_7">The Arab and the Camel</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_8">The Nightingale and the +Swallow</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_9">The Husbandman and the +stork</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_10">The Pine</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_11">The Woman and Her +Maid-Servants</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_12">The Lamp</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BABRIUS_13">The Tortoise and the +Hare</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BACON">FRANCIS BACON</a> (by Charlton T. Lewis) -- +1561-1626</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_1">Of Truth</a> ('Essays')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_2">Of Revenge</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_3">Of Simulation and +Dissimulation</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_4">Of Travel</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_5">Of Friendship</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_6">Defects of the Universities</a> +('The Advancement of Learning')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_7">To My Lord Treasurer +Burghley</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_8">In Praise of Knowledge</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_9">To the Lord Chancellor</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_10">To Villiers on his Patent as a +Viscount</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_11">Charge to Justice Hutton</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_12">A Prayer, or Psalm</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_13">From the 'Apophthegms'</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_14">Translation of the 137th +Psalm</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BACON_15">The World's a Bubble</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BAGEHOT">WALTER BAGEHOT</a> (by Forrest Morgan) -- +1826-1877</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_1">The Virtues of Stupidity</a> +('Letters on the French Coup d'État')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_2">Review Writing</a> ('The First +Edinburgh Reviewers')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_3">Lord Eldon</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_4">Taste</a> ('Wordsworth, +Tennyson, and Browning')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_5">Causes of the Sterility of +Literature</a> ('Shakespeare')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_6">The Search for Happiness</a> +('William Cowper')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_7">On Early Reading</a> ('Edward +Gibbon')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_8">The Cavaliers</a> ('Thomas +Babington Macaulay')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_9">Morality and Fear</a> ('Bishop +Butler')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_10">The Tyranny of Convention</a> +('Sir Robert Peel')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_11">How to Be an Influential +Politician</a> ('Bolingbroke')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_12">Conditions of Cabinet +Government</a> ('The English Constitution')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_13">Why Early Societies could not +be Free</a> ('Physics and Politics')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_14">Benefits of Free Discussion in +Modern Times</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGEHOT_15">Origin of Deposit Banking</a> +('Lombard Street')</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BAGGESEN">JENS BAGGESEN</a> -- 1764-1826</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGGESEN_1">A Cosmopolitan</a> ('The +Labyrinth')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGGESEN_2">Philosophy on the Heath</a> +(same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAGGESEN_3">There was a Time when I was +Very Little</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BAILEY">PHILIP JAMES BAILEY</a> -- 1816-</p> +<p class="i2">From "Festus": <a href="#BAILEY_1">Life</a>: <a href= +"#BAILEY_2">The Passing-Bell</a>; <a href= +"#BAILEY_3">Thoughts</a>;</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILEY_4">Dreams</a>; <a href= +"#BAILEY_5">Chorus of the Saved</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BAILLIE">JOANNA BAILLIE</a> -- 1762-1851</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILLIE_1">Woo'd and Married and A'</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILLIE_2">It Was on a Morn when We were +Thrang</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILLIE_3">Fy, Let Us A' to the +Wedding</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILLIE_4">The Weary Pund o' Tow</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILLIE_5">From 'De Montfort'</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILLIE_6">To Mrs. Siddons</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILLIE_7">A Scotch Song</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILLIE_8">Song, 'Poverty Parts Good +Company'</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAILLIE_9">The Kitten</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BAIRD">HENRY MARTYN BAIRD</a> -- 1832-</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAIRD_1">The Battle of Ivry</a> ('The +Huguenots and Henry of Navarre')</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BAKER">SIR SAMUEL WHITE BAKER</a> -- 1821-1893</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAKER_1">Hunting in Abyssinia</a> ('The +Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BAKER_2">The Sources of the Nile</a> ('The +Albert Nyanza')</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BALFOUR">ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR</a> -- 1848-</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALFOUR_1">The Pleasures of Reading</a> +(Rectorial Address)</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BALLAD">THE BALLAD</a> (by F.B. Gummere)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_1">Robin Hood and Guy of +Gisborne</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_2">The Hunting of the +Cheviot</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_3">Johnie Cock</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_4">Sir Patrick Spens</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_5">The Bonny Earl of Murray</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_6">Mary Hamilton</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_7">Bonnie George Campbell</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_8">Bessie Bell and Mary Gray</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_9">The Three Ravens</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_10">Lord Randal</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_11">Edward</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_12">The Twa Brothers</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_13">Babylon</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_14">Childe Maurice</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_15">The Wife of Usher's Well</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALLAD_16">Sweet William's Ghost</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BALZAC">HONORÉ DE BALZAC</a> (by William P. +Trent) -- 1799-1850</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALZAC_1">The Meeting in the Convent</a> +('The Duchess of Langeais')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALZAC_2">An Episode Under the +Terror</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALZAC_3">A Passion in the Desert</a></p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BALZAC_4">The Napoleon of the People</a> +('The Country Doctor')</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><a href="#BANCROFT">GEORGE BANCROFT</a> (by Austin Scott) -- +1800-1891</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BANCROFT_1">The Beginnings of Virginia</a> +('History of the United States')</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BANCROFT_2">Men and Government in Early +Massachusetts</a> (same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BANCROFT_3">King Philip's War</a> +(same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BANCROFT_4">The New Netherland</a> +(same)</p> +<p class="i2"><a href="#BANCROFT_5">Franklin</a> (same)</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<h2>VOLUME III.</h2> +<br> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td>Ancient Irish Miniature (Colored Plate)</td> +<td>Frontispiece</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"St. Augustine and His Mother" (Photogravure)</td> +<td><a href="#image058.jpg">1014</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Papyrus, Sermons of St. Augustine (Fac-simile)</td> +<td><a href="#image066.jpg">1018</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Marcus Aurelius (Portrait)</td> +<td><a href="#image071.jpg">1022</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>The Zend Avesta (Fac-simile)</td> +<td><a href="#image135.jpg">1084</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Francis Bacon (Portrait)</td> +<td><a href="#image208.jpg">1156</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"The Cavaliers" (Photogravure)</td> +<td><a href="#image273.jpg">1218</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>Honoré de Balzac (Portrait)</td> +<td><a href="#image404.jpg">1348</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>George Bancroft (Portrait)</td> +<td><a href="#image490.jpg">1432</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</center> +<br> +<br> +<center>VIGNETTE PORTRAITS</center> +<br> +<center><a href="#AUGIER">Émile Augier</a><br> +<a href="#AUSTEN">Jane Austen</a><br> +<a href="#ROBERT_AYTOUN">Robert Aytoun</a><br> +<a href="#BAGEHOT">Walter Bagehot</a><br> +<a href="#BAGGESEN">Jens Baggesen</a><br> +<a href="#BAILEY">Philip James Bailey</a><br> +<a href="#BAILLIE">Joanna Baillie</a><br> +<a href="#BAIRD">Henry Martyn Baird</a><br> +<a href="#BAKER">Sir Samuel White Baker</a><br> +<a href="#BALFOUR">Arthur James Balfour</a></center> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AUERBACH"></a> +<h2>BERTHOLD AUERBACH--(Continued from Volume II)</h2> +<p>"Do you imagine that every one is kindly disposed towards you? +Take my word for it, a palace contains people of all sorts, good +and bad. All the vices abound in such a place. And there are many +other matters of which you have no idea, and of which you will, I +trust, ever remain ignorant. But all you meet are wondrous polite. +Try to remain just as you now are, and when you leave the palace, +let it be as the same Walpurga you were when you came here."</p> +<p>Walpurga stared at her in surprise. Who could change her?</p> +<p>Word came that the Queen was awake and desired Walpurga to bring +the Crown Prince to her.</p> +<p>Accompanied by Doctor Gunther, Mademoiselle Kramer, and two +waiting-women, she proceeded to the Queen's bedchamber. The Queen +lay there, calm and beautiful, and with a smile of greeting, turned +her face towards those who had entered. The curtains had been +partially drawn aside, and a broad, slanting ray of light shone +into the apartment, which seemed still more peaceful than during +the breathless silence of the previous night.</p> +<p>"Good morning!" said the Queen, with a voice full of feeling. +"Let me have my child!" She looked down at the babe that rested in +her arms, and then, without noticing any one in the room, lifted +her glance on high and faintly murmured:--</p> +<p>"This is the first time I behold my child in the daylight!"</p> +<p>All were silent; it seemed as if there was naught in the +apartment except the broad slanting ray of light that streamed in +at the window.</p> +<p>"Have you slept well?" inquired the Queen. Walpurga was glad the +Queen had asked a question, for now she could answer. Casting a +hurried glance at Mademoiselle Kramer, she said:--</p> +<p>"Yes, indeed! Sleep's the first, the last, and the best thing in +the world."</p> +<p>"She's clever," said the Queen, addressing Doctor Gunther in +French.</p> +<p>Walpurga's heart sank within her. Whenever she heard them speak +French, she felt as if they were betraying her; as if they had put +on an invisible cap, like that worn by the goblins in the +fairy-tale, and could thus speak without being heard.</p> +<p>"Did the Prince sleep well?" asked the Queen.</p> +<p>Walpurga passed her hand over her face, as if to brush away a +spider that had been creeping there. The Queen doesn't speak of her +"child" or her "son," but only of "the Crown Prince."</p> +<p>Walpurga answered:--</p> +<p>"Yes, quite well, thank God! That is, I couldn't hear him, and I +only wanted to say that I'd like to act towards the--" she could +not say "the Prince"--"that is, towards him, as I'd do with my own +child. We began on the very first day. My mother taught me that. +Such a child has a will of its own from the very start, and it +won't do to give way to it. It won't do to take it from the cradle, +or to feed it, whenever it pleases; there ought to be regular times +for all those things. It'll soon get used to that, and it won't +harm it either, to let it cry once in a while. On the contrary, +that expands the chest."</p> +<p>"Does he cry?" asked the Queen.</p> +<p>The infant answered the question for itself, for it at once +began to cry most lustily.</p> +<p>"Take him and quiet him," begged the Queen.</p> +<p>The King entered the apartment before the child had stopped +crying.</p> +<p>"He will have a good voice of command," said he, kissing the +Queen's hand.</p> +<p>Walpurga quieted the child, and she and Mademoiselle Kramer were +sent back to their apartments.</p> +<p>The King informed the Queen of the dispatches that had been +received, and of the sponsors who had been decided upon. She was +perfectly satisfied with the arrangements that had been made.</p> +<p>When Walpurga had returned to her room and had placed the child +in the cradle, she walked up and down and seemed quite +agitated.</p> +<p>"There are no angels in this world!" said she. "They're all just +like the rest of us, and who knows but--" She was vexed at the +Queen: "Why won't she listen patiently when her child cries? We +must take all our children bring us, whether it be joy or +pain."</p> +<p>She stepped out into the passage-way and heard the tones of the +organ in the palace-chapel. For the first time in her life these +sounds displeased her. "It don't belong in the house," thought she, +"where all sorts of things are going on. The church ought to stand +by itself."</p> +<p>When she returned to the room, she found a stranger there. +Mademoiselle Kramer informed her that this was the tailor to the +Queen.</p> +<p>Walpurga laughed outright at the notion of a "tailor to the +Queen." The elegantly attired person looked at her in amazement, +while Mademoiselle Kramer explained to her that this was the +dressmaker to her Majesty the Queen, and that he had come to take +her measure for three new dresses.</p> +<p>"Am I to wear city clothes?"</p> +<p>"God forbid! You're to wear the dress of your neighborhood, and +can order a stomacher in red, blue, green, or any color that you +like best."</p> +<p>"I hardly know what to say; but I'd like to have a workday suit +too. Sunday clothes on week-days--that won't do."</p> +<p>"At court one always wears Sunday clothes, and when her Majesty +drives out again you will have to accompany her."</p> +<p>"A11 right, then. I won't object."</p> +<p>While he took her measure, Walpurga laughed incessantly, and he +was at last obliged to ask her to hold still, so that he might go +on with his work. Putting his measure into his pocket, he informed +Mademoiselle Kramer that he had ordered an exact model, and that +the master of ceremonies had favored him with several drawings, so +that there might be no doubt of success.</p> +<p>Finally he asked permission to see the Crown Prince. +Mademoiselle Kramer was about to let him do so, but Walpurga +objected.</p> +<p>"Before the child is christened," said she, "no one shall look +at it just out of curiosity, and least of all a tailor, or else the +child will never turn out the right sort of man."</p> +<p>The tailor took his leave, Mademoiselle Kramer having politely +hinted to him that nothing could be done with the superstition of +the lower orders, and that it would not do to irritate the +nurse.</p> +<p>This occurrence induced Walpurga to administer the first serious +reprimand to Mademoiselle Kramer. She could not understand why she +was so willing to make an exhibition of the child. "Nothing does a +child more harm than to let strangers look at it in its sleep, and +a tailor at that."</p> +<p>All the wild fun with which, in popular songs, tailors are held +up to scorn and ridicule, found vent in Walpurga, and she began +singing:--</p> +<blockquote>"Just list, ye braves, who love to roam!<br> +A snail was chasing a tailor home.<br> +And if Old Shears hadn't run so fast,<br> +The snail would surely have caught him at last."</blockquote> +<p>Mademoiselle Kramer's acquaintance with the court tailor had +lowered her in Walpurga's esteem; and with an evident effort to +mollify the latter, Mademoiselle Kramer asked:--</p> +<p>"Does the idea of your new and beautiful clothes really afford +you no pleasure?"</p> +<p>"To be frank with you, no! I don't wear them for my own sake, +but for that of others, who dress me to please themselves. It's all +the same to me, however! I've given myself up to them, and suppose +I must submit."</p> +<p>"May I come in?" asked a pleasant voice. Countess Irma entered +the room. Extending both her hands to Walpurga, she said:--</p> +<p>"God greet you, my countrywoman! I am also from the Highlands, +seven hours distance from your village. I know it well, and once +sailed over the lake with your father. Does he still live?"</p> +<p>"Alas! no: he was drowned, and the lake hasn't given up its +dead."</p> +<p>"He was a fine-looking old man, and you are the very image of +him."</p> +<p>"I am glad to find some one else here who knew my father. The +court tailor--I mean the court doctor--knew him too. Yes, search +the land through, you couldn't have found a better man than my +father, and no one can help but admit it."</p> +<p>"Yes: I've often heard as much."</p> +<p>"May I ask your Ladyship's name?"</p> +<p>"Countess Wildenort."</p> +<p>"Wildenort? I've heard the name before. Yes, I remember my +mother's mentioning it. Your father was known as a very kind and +benevolent man. Has he been dead a long while?"</p> +<p>"No, he is still living."</p> +<p>"Is he here too?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"And as what are you here, Countess?"</p> +<p>"As maid of honor."</p> +<p>"And what is that?"</p> +<p>"Being attached to the Queen's person; or what, in your part of +the country, would be called a companion."</p> +<p>"Indeed! And is your father willing to let them use you that +way?"</p> +<p>Irma, who was somewhat annoyed by her questions, said:--</p> +<p>"I wished to ask you something--Can you write?"</p> +<p>"I once could, but I've quite forgotten how."</p> +<p>"Then I've just hit it! that's the very reason for my coming +here. Now, whenever you wish to write home, you can dictate your +letter to me, and I will write whatever you tell me to."</p> +<p>"I could have done that too," suggested Mademoiselle Kramer, +timidly; "and your Ladyship would not have needed to trouble +yourself."</p> +<p>"No, the Countess will write for me. Shall it be now?"</p> +<p>"Certainly."</p> +<p>But Walpurga had to go to the child. While she was in the next +room, Countess Irma and Mademoiselle Kramer engaged each other in +conversation.</p> +<p>When Walpurga returned, she found Irma, pen in hand, and at once +began to dictate.</p> +<p class="loc">Translation of S.A. Stern.</p> +<br> +<a name="AURBACH_1"></a> +<h3>THE FIRST FALSE STEP</h3> +<center>From 'On the Heights'</center> +<p>The ball was to be given in the palace and the adjoining winter +garden. The intendant now informed Irma of his plan, and was +delighted to find that she approved of it. At the end of the garden +he intended to erect a large fountain, ornamented with antique +groups. In the foreground he meant to have trees and shrubbery and +various kinds of rocks, so that none could approach too closely; +and the background was to be a Grecian landscape, painted in the +grand style.</p> +<p>Irma promised to keep his secret. Suddenly she exclaimed, "We +are all of us no better than lackeys and kitchen-maids. We are kept +busy stewing, roasting, and cooking for weeks, in order to prepare +a dish that may please their Majesties."</p> +<p>The intendant made no reply.</p> +<p>"Do you remember," continued Irma, "how, when we were at the +lake, we spoke of the fact that man possessed the advantage of +being able to change his dress, and thus to alter his appearance? +While yet a child, masquerading was my greatest delight. The soul +wings its flight in callow infancy. A <i>bal costumé</i> is +indeed one of the noblest fruits of culture. The love of coquetry +which is innate with all of us displays itself there +undisguised."</p> +<p>The intendant took his leave. While walking away, his mind was +filled with his old thoughts about Irma.</p> +<p>"No," said he to himself, "such a woman would be a constant +strain, and would require one to be brilliant and intellectual all +day long. She would exhaust one," said he, almost aloud.</p> +<p>No one knew what character Irma intended to appear in, although +many supposed that it would be as "Victory," since it was well +known that she had stood for the model of the statue that +surmounted the arsenal. They were busy conjecturing how she could +assume that character without violating the social proprieties.</p> +<p>Irma spent much of her time in the atelier, and worked +assiduously. She was unable to escape a feeling of unrest, far +greater than that she had experienced years ago when looking +forward to her first ball. She could not reconcile herself to the +idea of preparing for the <i>fête</i> so long beforehand, and +would like to have had it take place in the very next hour, so that +something else might be taken up at once. The long delay tried her +patience. She almost envied those beings to whom the preparation +for pleasure affords the greatest part of the enjoyment. Work alone +calmed her unrest. She had something to do, and this prevented the +thoughts of the festival from engaging her mind during the day. It +was only in the evening that she would recompense herself for the +day's work, by giving full swing to her fancy.</p> +<p>The statue of Victory was still in the atelier and was almost +finished. High ladders were placed beside it. The artist was still +chiseling at the figure, and would now and then hurry down to +observe the general effect, and then hastily mount the ladder again +in order to add a touch here or there. Irma scarcely ventured to +look up at this effigy of herself in Grecian costume--transformed +and yet herself. The idea of being thus translated into the purest +of art's forms filled her with a tremor, half joy, half fear.</p> +<p>It was on a winter afternoon. Irma was working assiduously at a +copy of a bust of Theseus, for it was growing dark. Near her stood +her preceptor's marble bust of Doctor Gunther. All was silent; not +a sound was heard save now and then the picking or scratching of +the chisel.</p> +<p>At that moment the master descended the ladder, and drawing a +deep breath, said:--</p> +<p>"There--that will do. One can never finish. I shall not put +another stroke to it. I am afraid that retouching would only injure +it. It is done."</p> +<p>In the master's words and manner, struggling effort and calm +content seemed mingled. He laid the chisel aside. Irma looked at +him earnestly and said:--</p> +<p>"You are a happy man; but I can imagine that you are still +unsatisfied. I don't believe that even Raphael or Michael Angelo +was ever satisfied with the work he had completed. The remnant of +dissatisfaction which an artist feels at the completion of a work +is the germ of a new creation."</p> +<p>The master nodded his approval of her words. His eyes expressed +his thanks. He went to the water-tap and washed his hands. Then he +placed himself near Irma and looked at her, while telling her that +in every work an artist parts with a portion of his life; that the +figure will never again inspire the same feelings that it did while +in the workshop. Viewed from afar, and serving as an ornament, no +regard would be had to the care bestowed upon details. But the +artist's great satisfaction in his work is in having pleased +himself; and yet no one can accurately determine how, or to what +extent, a conscientious working up of details will influence the +general effect.</p> +<p>While the master was speaking, the King was announced. Irma +hurriedly spread a damp cloth over her clay model.</p> +<p>The King entered. He was unattended, and begged Irma not to +allow herself to be disturbed in her work. Without looking up, she +went on with her modeling. The King was earnest in his praise of +the master's work.</p> +<p>"The grandeur that dwells in this figure will show posterity +what our days have beheld. I am proud of such contemporaries."</p> +<p>Irma felt that the words applied to her as well. Her heart +throbbed. The plaster which stood before her suddenly seemed to +gaze at her with a strange expression.</p> +<p>"I should like to compare the finished work with the first +models," said the king to the artist.</p> +<p>"I regret that the experimental models are in my small atelier. +Does your Majesty wish me to have them brought here?"</p> +<p>"If you will be good enough to do so."</p> +<p>The master left. The King and Irma were alone. With rapid steps +the King mounted the ladder, and exclaimed in a tremulous +voice:--</p> +<p>"I ascend into heaven--I ascend to you. Irma, I kiss you, I kiss +your image, and may this kiss forever rest upon those lips, +enduring beyond all time. I kiss thee with the kiss of eternity." +He stood aloft and kissed the lips of the statue. Irma could not +help looking up, and just at that moment a slanting sunbeam fell on +the King and on the face of the marble figure, making it glow as if +with life.</p> +<p>Irma felt as if wrapped in a fiery cloud, bearing her away into +eternity.</p> +<p>The King descended and placed himself beside her. His breathing +was short and quick. She did not dare to look up; she stood as +silent and as immovable as a statue. Then the King embraced +her--and living lips kissed each other.</p> +<p class="loc">Translation of S.A. Stern.</p> +<br> +<a name="AURBACH_2"></a> +<h3>THE NEW HOME AND THE OLD ONE</h3> +<center>From 'On the Heights'</center> +<p>Hansei received various offers for his cottage, and was always +provoked when it was spoken of as a 'tumble-down old shanty.' He +always looked as if he meant to say, "Don't take it ill of me, good +old house: the people only abuse you so that they may get you +cheap." Hansei stood his ground. He would not sell his home for a +penny less than it was worth; and besides that, he owned the +fishing-right, which was also worth something. Grubersepp at last +took the house off his hands, with the design of putting a servant +of his, who intended to marry in the fall, in possession of the +place.</p> +<p>All the villagers were kind and friendly to them,--doubly so +since they were about to leave,--and Hansei said:--</p> +<p>"It hurts me to think that I must leave a single enemy behind +me, I'd like to make it up with the innkeeper."</p> +<p>Walpurga agreed with him, and said that she would go along; that +she had really been the cause of the trouble, and that if the +innkeeper wanted to scold any one, he might as well scold her +too.</p> +<p>Hansei did not want his wife to go along, but she insisted upon +it.</p> +<p>It was in the last evening in August that they went up into the +village. Their hearts beat violently while they drew near to the +inn. There was no light in the room. They groped about the porch, +but not a soul was to be seen. Dachsel and Wachsel, however, were +making a heathenish racket. Hansei called out:</p> +<p>"Is there no one at home?"</p> +<p>"No. There's no one at home," answered a voice from the dark +room.</p> +<p>"Well, then tell the host, when he returns, that Hansei and his +wife were here, and that they came to ask him to forgive them if +they've done him any wrong; and to say that they forgive him too, +and wish him luck."</p> +<p>"A11 right: I'll tell him," said the voice. The door was again +slammed to, and Dachsel and Wachsel began barking again.</p> +<p>Hansei and Walpurga returned homeward.</p> +<p>"Do you know who that was?" asked Hansei.</p> +<p>"Why, yes: 'twas the innkeeper himself."</p> +<p>"Well, we've done all we could."</p> +<p>They found it sad to part from all the villagers. They listened +to the lovely tones of the bell which they had heard every hour +since childhood. Although their hearts were full, they did not say +a word about the sadness of parting. Hansei at last broke +silence:--"Our new home isn't out of the world: we can often come +here."</p> +<p>When they reached the cottage they found that nearly all of the +villagers had assembled in order to bid them farewell, but every +one added, "I'll see you again in the morning."</p> +<p>Grubersepp also came again. He had been proud enough before; but +now he was doubly so, for he had made a man of his neighbor, or at +all events had helped to do so. He did not give way to tender +sentiment. He condensed all his knowledge of life into a few +sentences, which he delivered himself of most bluntly.</p> +<p>"I only want to tell you," said he, "you'll have lots of +servants now. Take my word for it, the best of them are good for +nothing; but something may be made of them for all that. He who +would have his servants mow well, must take the scythe in hand +himself. And since you got your riches so quickly, don't forget the +proverb: 'Light come, light go.' Keep steady, or it'll go ill with +you."</p> +<p>He gave him much more good advice, and Hansei accompanied him +all the way back to his house. With a silent pressure of the hand +they took leave of each other.</p> +<p>The house seemed empty, for quite a number of chests and boxes +had been sent in advance by a boat that was already crossing the +lake. On the following morning two teams would be in waiting on the +other side.</p> +<p>"So this is the last time that we go to bed in this house," said +the mother. They were all fatigued with work and excitement, and +yet none of them cared to go to bed. At last, however, they could +not help doing so, although they slept but little.</p> +<p>The next morning they were up and about at an early hour. Having +attired themselves in their best clothes, they bundled up the beds +and carried them into the boat. The mother kindled the last fire on +the hearth. The cows were led out and put into the boat, the +chickens were also taken along in a coop, and the dog was +constantly running to and fro.</p> +<p>The hour of parting had come.</p> +<p>The mother uttered a prayer, and then called all of them into +the kitchen. She scooped up some water from the pail and poured it +into the fire, with these words:--"May all that's evil be thus +poured out and extinguished, and let those who light a fire after +us find nothing but health in their home."</p> +<p>Hansei, Walpurga, and Gundel were each of them obliged to pour a +ladleful of water into the fire, and the grandmother guided the +child's hand while it did the same thing.</p> +<p>After they had all silently performed this ceremony, the +grandmother prayed aloud:--</p> +<p>"Take from us, O Lord our God, all heartache and home-sickness +and all trouble, and grant us health and a happy home where we next +kindle our fire."</p> +<p>She was the first to cross the threshold. She had the child in +her arms and covered its eyes with her hands while she called out +to the others:--</p> +<p>"Don't look back when you go out."</p> +<p>"Just wait a moment," said Hansei to Walpurga when he found +himself alone with her. "Before we cross this threshold for the +last time, I've something to tell you. I must tell it. I mean to be +a righteous man and to keep nothing concealed from you. I must tell +you this, Walpurga. While you were away and Black Esther lived up +yonder, I once came very near being wicked--and unfaithful--thank +God, I wasn't. But it torments me to think that I ever wanted to be +bad; and now, Walpurga, forgive me and God will forgive me, too. +Now I've told you, and have nothing more to tell. If I were to +appear before God this moment, I'd know of nothing more."</p> +<p>Walpurga embraced him, and sobbing, said, "You're my dear good +husband!" and they crossed the threshold for the last time.</p> +<p>When they reached the garden, Hansei paused, looked up at the +cherry-tree, and said:--</p> +<p>"And so you remain here. Won't you come with us? We've always +been good friends, and spent many an hour together. But wait! I'll +take you with me, after all," cried he, joyfully, "and I'll plant +you in my new home."</p> +<p>He carefully dug out a shoot that was sprouting up from one of +the roots of the tree. He stuck it in his hat-band, and went to +join his wife at the boat.</p> +<p>From the landing-place on the bank were heard the merry sounds +of fiddles, clarinets, and trumpets.</p> +<p>Hansei hastened to the landing-place. The whole village had +congregated there, and with it the full band of music. Tailor +Schneck's son, he who had been one of, the cuirassiers at the +christening of the crown prince, had arranged and was now +conducting the parting ceremonies. Schneck, who was scraping his +bass-viol, was the first to see Hansei, and called out in the midst +of the music:--</p> +<p>"Long live farmer Hansei and the one he loves best! Hip, hip, +hurrah!"</p> +<p>The early dawn resounded with their cheers. There was a flourish +of trumpets, and the salutes fired from several small mortars were +echoed back from the mountains. The large boat in which their +household furniture, the two cows, and the fowls were placed, was +adorned with wreaths of fir and oak. Walpurga was standing in the +middle of the boat, and with both hands held the child aloft, so +that it might see the great crowd of friends and the lake sparkling +in the rosy dawn.</p> +<p>"My master's best respects," said one of Grubersepp's servants, +leading a snow-white colt by the halter: "he sends you this to +remember him by."</p> +<p>Grubersepp was not present. He disliked noise and crowds. He was +of a solitary and self-contained temperament. Nevertheless he sent +a present which was not only of intrinsic value, but was also a +most flattering souvenir; for a colt is usually given by a rich +farmer to a younger brother when about to depart. In the eyes of +all the world--that is to say, the whole village--Hansei appeared +as the younger brother of Grubersepp.</p> +<p>Little Burgei shouted for joy when she saw them leading the +snow-white foal into the boat. Gruberwaldl, who was but six years +old, stood by the whinnying colt, stroking it and speaking kindly +to it.</p> +<p>"Would you like to go to the farm with me and be my servant?" +asked Hansei of Gruberwaldl.</p> +<p>"Yes, indeed, if you'll take me."</p> +<p>"See what a boy he is," said Hansei to his wife. "What a +boy!"</p> +<p>Walpurga made no answer, but busied herself with the child.</p> +<p>Hansei shook hands with every one at parting. His hand trembled, +but he did not forget to give a couple of crown thalers to the +musicians.</p> +<p>At last he got into the boat and exclaimed:--</p> +<p>"Kind friends! I thank you all. Don't forget us, and we shan't +forget you. Farewell! may God protect you all."</p> +<p>Walpurga and her mother were in tears.</p> +<p>"And now, in God's name, let us start!" The chains were +loosened; the boat put off. Music, shouting, singing, and the +firing of cannon resounded while the boat quietly moved away from +the shore. The sun burst forth in all his glory.</p> +<p>The mother sat there, with her hands clasped. All were silent. +The only sound heard was the neighing of the foal.</p> +<p>Walpurga was the first to break the silence. "O dear Lord! if +people would only show each other half as much love during life as +they do when one dies or moves away."</p> +<p>The grandmother, who was in the middle of a prayer, shook her +head. She quickly finished her prayer and said:--</p> +<p>"That's more than one has the right to ask. It won't do to go +about all day long with your heart in your hand. But remember, I've +always told you that the people are good enough at heart, even if +there are a few bad ones among them."</p> +<p>Hansei bestowed an admiring glance upon his wife, who had so +many different thoughts about almost everything. He supposed it was +caused by her having been away from home. But his heart was full, +too, although in a different way.</p> +<p>"I can hardly realize," said Hansei, taking a long breath and +putting the pipe, which he had intended to light, back into his +pocket, "what has become of all the years that I spent there and +all that I went through during the time. Look, Walpurga! the road +you see there leads to my home. I know every hill and every hollow. +My mother's buried there. Do you see the pines growing on the hill +over yonder? That hill was quite bare; every tree was cut down when +the French were here; and see how fine and hardy the trees are now. +I planted most of them myself. I was a little boy about eleven or +twelve years old when the forester hired me. He had fresh soil +brought for the whole place and covered the rocky spots with moss. +In the spring I worked from six in the morning till seven in the +evening, putting in the little plants. My left hand was almost +frozen, for I had to keep putting it into a tub of wet loam, with +which I covered the roots. I was scantily clothed into the bargain, +and had nothing to eat all day long but a piece of bread. In the +morning it was cold enough to freeze the marrow in one's bones, and +at noon I was almost roasted by the hot sun beating on the rocks. +It was a hard life. Yes, I had a hard time of it when I was young. +Thank God, it hasn't harmed me any. But I shan't forget it; and +let's be right industrious and give all we can to the poor. I never +would have believed that I'd live to call a single tree or a +handful of earth my own; and now that God has given me so much, +let's try and deserve it all."</p> +<p>Hansei's eyes blinked, as if there was something in them, and he +pulled his hat down over his forehead. Now, while he was pulling +himself up by the roots as it were, he could not help thinking of +how thoroughly he had become engrafted into the neighborhood by the +work of his hands and by habit. He had felled many a tree, but he +knew full well how hard it was to remove the stumps.</p> +<p>The foal grew restive. Gruberwaldl, who had come with them in +order to hold it, was not strong enough, and one of the boatmen was +obliged to go to his assistance.</p> +<p>"Stay with the foal," said Hansei. "I'll take the oar."</p> +<p>"And I too," cried Walpurga. "Who knows when I'll have another +chance? Ah! how often I've rowed on the lake with you and my +blessed father."</p> +<p>Hansei and Walpurga sat side by side plying their oars in +perfect time. It did them both good to have some employment which +would enable them to work off the excitement.</p> +<p>"I shall miss the water," said Walpurga; "without the lake, +life'll seem so dull and dry. I felt that, while I was in the +city."</p> +<p>Hansei did not answer.</p> +<p>"At the summer palace there's a pond with swans swimming about +in it," said she, but still received no answer. She looked around, +and a feeling of anger arose within her. When she said anything at +the palace, it was always listened to.</p> +<p>In a sorrowful tone she added, "It would have been better if +we'd moved in the spring; it would have been much easier to get +used to things."</p> +<p>"Maybe it would," replied Hansei, at last, "but I've got to hew +wood in the winter. Walpurga, let's make life pleasant to each +other, and not sad. I shall have enough on my shoulders, and can't +have you and your palace thoughts besides."</p> +<p>Walpurga quickly answered, "I'll throw this ring, which the +Queen gave me, into the lake, to prove that I've stopped thinking +of the palace."</p> +<p>"There's no need of that. The ring's worth a nice sum, and +besides that it's an honorable keepsake. You must do just as I +do."</p> +<p>"Yes; only remain strong and true."</p> +<p>The grandmother suddenly stood up before them. Her features were +illumined with a strange expression, and she said:--</p> +<p>"Children! Hold fast to the good fortune that you have. You've +gone through fire and water together; for it was fire when you were +surrounded by joy and love and every one greeted you with +kindness--and you passed through the water, when the wickedness of +others stung you to the soul. At that time the water was up to your +neck, and yet you weren't drowned. Now you've got over it all. And +when my last hour comes, don't weep for me; for through you I've +enjoyed all the happiness a mother's heart can have in this +world."</p> +<p>She knelt down, scooped up some water with her hand, and +sprinkled it over Hansei's and also over Walpurga's face.</p> +<p>They rowed on in silence. The grandmother laid her head on a +roll of bedding and closed her eyes. Her face wore a strange +expression. After a while she opened her eyes again, and casting a +glance full of happiness on her children, she said:</p> +<p>"Sing and be merry. Sing the song that father and I so often +sang together; that one verse, the good one."</p> +<p>Hansei and Walpurga plied the oars while they sang:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7">"Ah, blissful is the tender tie</p> +<p class="i8">That binds me, love, to thee;</p> +<p class="i7">And swiftly speed the hours by,</p> +<p class="i8">When thou art near to me."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>They repeated the verse again, although at times the joyous +shouting of the child and the neighing of the foal bade fair to +interrupt it.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>As they drew near the house, they could hear the neighing of the +white foal.</p> +<p>"That's a good beginning," cried Hansei.</p> +<p>The grandmother placed the child on the ground, and got her +hymn-book out of the chest. Pressing the book against her breast +with both hands, she went into the house, being the first to enter. +Hansei, who was standing near the stable, took a piece of chalk +from his pocket and wrote the letters C.M.B., and the date, on the +stable door. Then he too went into the house,--his wife, Irma, and +the child following him.</p> +<p>Before going into the sitting-room the grandmother knocked +thrice at the door. When she had entered she placed the open +hymn-book upon the open window-sill, so that the sun might read in +it. There were no tables or chairs in the room.</p> +<p>Hansei shook hands with his wife and said, "God be with you, +freeholder's wife."</p> +<p>From that moment Walpurga was known as the "freeholder's wife," +and was never called by any other name.</p> +<p>And now they showed Irma her room. The view extended over meadow +and brook and the neighboring forest. She examined the room. There +was naught but a green Dutch oven and bare walls, and she had +brought nothing with her. In her paternal mansion, and at the +castle, there were chairs and tables, horses and carriages; but +here--None of these follow the dead.</p> +<p>Irma knelt by the window and gazed out over meadow and forest, +where the sun was now shining.</p> +<p>How was it yesterday--was it only yesterday when you saw the sun +go down?</p> +<p>Her thoughts were confused and indistinct. She pressed her hand +to her forehead; the white handkerchief was still there. A bird +looked up to her from the meadow, and when her glance rested upon +it it flew away into the woods.</p> +<p>"The bird has its nest," said she to herself, "and I--"</p> +<p>Suddenly she drew herself up. Hansei had walked out to the grass +plot in front of Irma's window, removed the slip of the cherry-tree +from his hat, and planted it in the ground.</p> +<p>The grandmother stood by and said, "I trust that you'll be alive +and hearty long enough to climb this tree and gather cherries from +it, and that your children and grandchildren may do the same."</p> +<p>There was much to do and to set to rights in the house, and on +such occasions it usually happens that those who are dearest to one +another are as much in each other's way as closets and tables which +have not yet been placed where they belong. The best proof of the +amiability of these folks was that they assisted each other +cheerfully, and indeed with jest and song.</p> +<p>Walpurga moved her best furniture into Irma's room. Hansei did +not interpose a word. "Aren't you too lonely here?" asked Walpurga, +after she had arranged everything as well as possible in so short a +time.</p> +<p>"Not at all. There is no place in all the world lonely enough +for me. You've so much to do now; don't worry about me. I must now +arrange things within myself. I see how good you and yours are; +fate has directed me kindly."</p> +<p>"Oh, don't talk in that way. If you hadn't given me the money, +how could we have bought the farm? This is really your own."</p> +<p>"Don't speak of that," said Irma, with a sudden start. "Never +mention that money to me again."</p> +<p>Walpurga promised, and merely added that Irma needn't be alarmed +at the old man who lived in the room above hers, and who at times +would talk to himself and make a loud noise. He was old and blind. +The children teased and worried him, but he wasn't bad and would +harm no one. Walpurga offered at all events to leave Gundel with +Irma for the first night; but Irma preferred to be alone.</p> +<p>"You'll stay with us, won't you?" said Walpurga hesitatingly. +"You won't have such bad thoughts again?"</p> +<p>"No, never. But don't talk now: my voice pains me, and so does +yours too. Good-night! leave me alone."</p> +<p>Irma sat by the window and gazed out into the dark night. Was it +only a day since she had passed through such terrors? Suddenly she +sprang from her seat with a shudder. She had seen Black Esther's +head rising out of the darkness, had again heard her dying shriek, +had beheld the distorted face and the wild black tresses.--Her hair +stood on end. Her thoughts carried her to the bottom of the lake, +where she now lay dead. She opened the window and inhaled the soft, +balmy air. She sat by the open casement for a long while, and +suddenly heard some one laughing in the room above her.</p> +<p>"Ha! ha! I won't do you the favor! I won't die! I won't die! +Pooh, pooh! I'll live till I'm a hundred years old, and then I'll +get a new lease of life."</p> +<p>It was the old pensioner. After a while he continued:--</p> +<p>"I'm not so stupid; I know that it's night now, and the +freeholder and his wife are come. I'll give them lots of trouble. +I'm Jochem. Jochem's my name, and what the people don't like, I do +for spite. Ha! ha! I don't use any light, and they must make me an +allowance for that. I'll insist on it, if I have to go to the King +himself about it."</p> +<p>Irma started when she heard the King mentioned.</p> +<p>"Yes, I'll go to the King, to the King! to the King!" cried the +old man overhead, as if he knew that the word tortured Irma.</p> +<p>She heard him close the window and move a chair. The old man +went to bed.</p> +<p>Irma looked out into the dark night. Not a star was to be seen. +There was no light anywhere; nothing was heard but the roaring of +the mountain stream and the rustling of the trees. The night seemed +like a dark abyss.</p> +<p>"Are you still awake?" asked a soft voice without. It was the +grandmother.</p> +<p>"I was once a servant at this farm," said she. "That was forty +years ago; and now I'm the mother of the freeholder's wife, and +almost the head one on the farm. But I keep thinking of you all the +time. I keep trying to think how it is in your heart. I've +something to tell you. Come out again. I'll take you where it'll do +you good to be. Come!"</p> +<p>Irma went out into the dark night with the old woman. How +different this guide from the one she had had the day before!</p> +<p>The old woman led her to the fountain. She had brought a cup +with her and gave it to Irma. "Come, drink; good cold water's the +best. Water comforts the body; it cools and quiets us; it's like +bathing one's soul. I know what sorrow is too. One's insides burn +as if they were afire."</p> +<p>Irma drank some of the water of the mountain spring. It seemed +like a healing dew, whose influence was diffused through her whole +frame.</p> +<p>The grandmother led her back to her room and said, "You've still +got the shirt on that you wore at the palace. You'll never stop +thinking of that place till you've burned that shirt."</p> +<p>The old woman would listen to no denial, and Irma was as docile +as a little child. The grandmother hurried to get a coarse shirt +for her, and after Irma had put it on, brought wood and a light and +burnt the other at the open fire. Irma was also obliged to cut off +her long nails and throw them into the fire. Then Beate disappeared +for a few moments, and returned with Irma's riding-habit. "You must +have been shot; for there are balls in this," said she, spreading +out the long blue habit.</p> +<p>A smile passed over Irma's face, as she felt the balls that had +been sewed into the lower part of the habit, so that it might hang +more gracefully. Beate had also brought something very useful,--a +deerskin. "Hansei sends you this," said she. "He thinks that maybe +you're used to having something soft for your feet to rest on. He +shot the deer himself."</p> +<p>Irma appreciated the kindness of the man who could show such +affection to one who was both a stranger and a mystery to him.</p> +<p>The grandmother remained at Irma's bedside until she fell +asleep. Then she breathed thrice on the sleeper and left the +room.</p> +<p>It was late at night when Irma awoke.</p> +<p>"To the King! to the King! to the King!" The words had been +uttered thrice in a loud voice. Was it hers, or that of the man +overhead? Irma pressed her hand to her forehead and felt the +bandage. Was it sea-grass that had gathered there? Was she lying +alive at the bottom of the lake? Gradually all that had happened +became clear to her.</p> +<p>Alone, in the dark and silent night, she wept. And these were +the first tears she had shed since the terrible events through +which she had passed.</p> +<p>It was evening when Irma awoke. She put her hand to her +forehead. A wet cloth had been bound round it. She had been +sleeping nearly twenty-four hours. The grandmother was sitting by +her bed.</p> +<p>"You've a strong constitution," said the old woman, "and that +helped you. It's all right now."</p> +<p>Irma arose. She felt strong, and guided by the grandmother, +walked over to the dwelling-house.</p> +<p>"God be praised that you're well again," said Walpurga, who was +standing there with her husband; and Hansei added, "yes, that's +right."</p> +<p>Irma thanked them, and looked up at the gable of the house. What +words there met her eye?</p> +<p>"Don't you think the house has a good motto written on its +forehead?" asked Hansei.</p> +<p>Irma started. On the gable of the house she read the following +inscription:--</p> +<br> +<br> +<center>EAT AND DRINK: FORGET NOT GOD: THINE HONOR GUARD:<br> +OF ALL THY STORE,<br> +THOU'LT CARRY HENCE<br> +A WINDING-SHEET<br> +AND NOTHING MORE.</center> +<p class="loc">Translation of S.A. Stern.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AURBACH_3"></a> +<h3>THE COURT PHYSICIAN'S PHILOSOPHY</h3> +<center>From 'On the Heights'</center> +<p>Gunther continued, "I am only a physician, who has held many a +hand hot with fever or stiff in death in his own. The healing art +might serve as an illustration. We help all who need our help, and +do not stop to ask who they are, whence they come, or whether when +restored to health they persist in their evil courses. Our actions +are incomplete, fragmentary; thought alone is complete and +all-embracing. Our deeds and ourselves are but fragments--the whole +is God."</p> +<p>"I think I grasp your meaning [replied the Queen]. But our life, +as you say, is indeed a mere fraction of life as a whole; and how +is each one to bear up under the portion of suffering that falls to +his individual lot? Can one--I mean it in its best sense--always be +outside of one's self?"</p> +<p>"I am well aware, your Majesty, that passions and emotions +cannot be regulated by ideas; for they grow in a different soil, +or, to express myself correctly, move in entirely different +spheres. It is but a few days since I closed the eyes of my old +friend Eberhard. Even he never fully succeeded in subordinating his +temperament to his philosophy; but in his dying hour he rose beyond +the terrible grief that broke his heart--grief for his child. He +summoned the thoughts of better hours to his aid,--hours when his +perception of the truth had been undimmed by sorrow or +passion,--and he died a noble, peaceful death. Your Majesty must +still live and labor, elevating yourself and others, at one and the +same time. Permit me to remind you of the moment when, seated under +the weeping ash, your heart was filled with pity for the poor child +that from the time it enters into the world is doubly helpless. Do +you still remember how you refused to rob it of its mother? I +appeal to the pure and genuine impulse of that moment. You were +noble and forgiving then, because you had not yet suffered. You +cast no stone at the fallen; you loved, and therefore you +forgave."</p> +<p>"O God!" cried the Queen, "and what has happened to me? The +woman on whose bosom my child rested is the most abandoned of +creatures. I loved her just as if she belonged to another world--a +world of innocence. And now I am satisfied that she was the +go-between, and that her naïveté was a mere mask +concealing an unparalleled hypocrite. I imagined that truth and +purity still dwelt in the simple rustic world--but everything is +perverted and corrupt. The world of simplicity is base; aye, far +worse than that of corruption!"</p> +<p>"I am not arguing about individuals. I think you mistaken in +regard to Walpurga; but admitting that you are right, of this at +least we can be sure: morality does not depend upon so-called +education or ignorance, belief or unbelief. The heart and mind +which have regained purity and steadfastness alone possess true +knowledge. Extend your view beyond details and take in the +whole--that alone can comfort and reconcile you."</p> +<p>"I see where you are, but I cannot get up there. I can't always +be looking through your telescope that shows naught but blue sky. I +am too weak. I know what you mean; you say in effect, 'Rise above +these few people, above this span of space known as a kingdom: +compared with the universe, they are but as so many blades of grass +or a mere clod of earth.'"</p> +<p>Gunther nodded a pleased assent: but the Queen, in a sad voice, +added:--</p> +<p>"Yes, but this space and these people constitute my world. Is +purity merely imaginary? If it be not about us, where can it be +found?"</p> +<p>"Within ourselves," replied Gunther. "If it dwell within us, it +is everywhere; if not, it is nowhere. He who asks for more has not +yet passed the threshold. His heart is not yet what it should be. +True love for the things of this earth, and for God, the final +cause of all, does not ask for love in return. We love the divine +spark that dwells in creatures themselves unconscious of it: +creatures who are wretched, debased, and as the church has it, +unredeemed. My Master taught me that the purest joys arise from +this love of God or of eternally pure nature. I made this truth my +own, and you can and ought to do likewise. This park is yours; but +the birds that dwell in it, the air, the light, its beauty, are not +yours alone, but are shared with you by all. So long as the world +is ours, in the vulgar sense of the word, we may love it; but when +we have made it our own, in a purer and better sense, no one can +take it from us. The great thing is to be strong and to know that +hatred is death, that love alone is life, and that the amount of +love that we possess is the measure of the life and the divinity +that dwells within us."</p> +<p>Gunther rose and was about to withdraw. He feared lest excessive +thought might over-agitate the Queen, who, however, motioned him to +remain. He sat down again.</p> +<p>"You cannot imagine--" said the Queen after a long pause, "--but +that is one of the cant phrases that we have learned by heart. I +mean just the reverse of what I have said. You can imagine the +change that your words have effected in me."</p> +<p>"I can conceive it."</p> +<p>"Let me ask a few more questions. I believe--nay, I am +sure--that on the height you occupy, and toward which you would +fain lead me, there dwells eternal peace. But it seems so cold and +lonely up there. I am oppressed with a sense of fear, just as if I +were in a balloon ascending into a rarer atmosphere, while more and +more ballast was ever being thrown out. I don't know how to make my +meaning clear to you. I don't understand how to keep up +affectionate relations with those about me, and yet regard them +from a distance, as it were,--looking upon their deeds as the mere +action and reaction of natural forces. It seems to me as if, at +that height, every sound and every image must vanish into thin +air."</p> +<p>"Certainly, your Majesty. There is a realm of thought in which +hearing and sight do not exist, where there is pure thought and +nothing more."</p> +<p>"But are not the thoughts that there abound projected from the +realm of death into that of life, and is that any better than +monastic self-mortification?"</p> +<p>"It is just the contrary. They praise death, or at all events +extol it, because after it life is to begin. I am not one of those +who deny a future life. I only say, in the words of my Master, 'Our +knowledge is of life and not of death,' and where my knowledge +ceases my thoughts must cease. Our labors, our love, are all of +this life. And because God is in this world and in all that exist +in it, and only in those things, have we to liberate the divine +essence wherever it exists. The law of love should rule. What the +law of nature is in regard to matter, the moral law is to man."</p> +<p>"I cannot reconcile myself to your dividing the divine power +into millions of parts. When a stone is crushed, every fragment +still remains a stone; but when a flower is torn to pieces, the +parts are no longer flowers."</p> +<p>"Let us take your simile as an illustration, although in truth +no example is adequate. The world, the firmament, the creatures +that live on the face of the earth, are not divided--they are one; +thought regards them as a whole. Take for instance the flower. The +idea of divinity which it suggests to us, and the fragrance which +ascends from it, are yet part and parcel of the flower; attributes +without which it is impossible for us to conceive of its existence. +The works of all poets, all thinkers, all heroes, may be likened to +streams of fragrance wafted through time and space. It is in the +flower that they live forever. Although the eternal spirit dwells +in the cell of every tree or flower and in every human heart, it is +undivided and in its unity fills the world. He whose thoughts dwell +in the infinite regards the world as the mighty corolla from which +the thought of God exhales."</p> +<p class="loc">Translation of S.A. Stern.</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AURBACH_4"></a> +<h3>IN COUNTESS IRMA'S DIARY</h3> +<center>From 'On the Heights'</center> +<p>Yesterday was a year since I lay at the foot of the rock. I +could not write a word. My brain whirled with the thoughts of that +day; but now it is over.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>I don't think I shall write much more. I have now experienced +all the seasons in my new world. The circle is complete. There is +nothing new to come from without. I know all that exists about me, +or that can happen. I am at home in my new world.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Unto Jesus the Scribes and Pharisees brought a woman who was to +be stoned to death, and He said unto them, "Let him that is without +sin among you cast the first stone."</p> +<p>Thus it is written.</p> +<p>But I ask: How did she continue to live--she who was saved from +being stoned to death; she who was pardoned--that is, condemned to +live? How did she live on? Did she return to her home? How did she +stand with the world? And how with her own heart?</p> +<p>No answer. None.</p> +<p>I must find the answer in my own experience</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"Let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone." +These are the noblest, the greatest words ever uttered by human +lips, or heard by human ear. They divide the history of the human +race into two parts. They are the "Let there be light" of the +second creation. They divide and heal my little life too, and +create me anew.</p> +<p>Has one who is not wholly without sin a right to offer precepts +and reflections to others?</p> +<p>Look into your own heart. What are you?</p> +<p>Behold my hands. They are hardened by toil. I have done more +than merely lift them in prayer.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Since I am alone I have not seen a letter of print. I have no +book and wish for none; and this is not in order to mortify myself, +but because I wish to be perfectly alone.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>She who renounces the world, and in her loneliness still +cherishes the thought of eternity, has assumed a heavy burden.</p> +<p>Convent life is not without its advantages. The different voices +that join in the <i>chorale</i> sustain each other; and when the +tone at last ceases, it seems to float away on the air and vanish +by degrees. But here I am quite alone. I am priest and church, +organ and congregation, confessor and penitent, all in one; and my +heart is often <i>so</i> heavy, as if I must needs have another to +help me bear the load. "Take me up and carry me, I cannot go +further!" cries my soul. But then I rouse myself again, seize my +scrip and my pilgrim's staff and wander on, solitary and alone; and +while I wander, strength returns to me.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>It often seems to me as if it were sinful thus to bury myself +alive. My voice is no longer heard in song, and much more that +dwells within me has become mute.</p> +<p>Is this right?</p> +<p>If my only object in life were to be at peace with myself, it +would be well enough; but I long to labor and to do something for +others. Yet where and what shall it be?</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>When I first heard that the beautifully carved furniture of the +great and wealthy is the work of prisoners, it made me shudder. And +now, although I am not deprived of freedom, I am in much the same +condition. Those who have disfigured life should, as an act of +expiation, help to make life more beautiful for others. The thought +that I am doing this comforts and sustains me.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>My work prospers. But last winter's wood is not yet fit for use. +My little pitchman has brought me some that is old, excellent, and +well seasoned, having been part of the rafters of an old house that +has just been torn down. We work together cheerfully, and our +earnings are considerable.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Vice is the same everywhere, except that here it is more open. +Among the masses, vice is characterized by coarseness; among the +upper classes, by meanness.</p> +<p>The latter shake off the consequences of their evil deeds, while +the former are obliged to bear them.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The rude manners of these people are necessary, and are far +preferable to polite deceit. They must needs be rough and rude. If +it were not for its coarse, thick bark, the oak could not withstand +the storm.</p> +<p>I have found that this rough bark covers more tenderness and +sincerity than does the smoothest surface.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Jochem told me, to-day, that he is still quite a good walker, +but that a blind man finds it very troublesome to go anywhere; for +at every step he is obliged to grope about, so that he may feel +sure of his ground before he firmly plants his foot on the +earth.</p> +<p>Is it not the same with me? Am I not obliged to be sure of the +ground before I take a step?</p> +<p>Such is the way of the fallen.</p> +<p>Ah! why does everything I see or hear become a symbol of my +life?</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>I have now been here between two and three years. I have formed +a resolve which it will be difficult to carry out. I shall go out +into the world once more. I must again behold the scenes of my past +life. I have tested myself severely.</p> +<p>May it not be a love of adventure, that genteel yet vulgar +desire to undertake what is unusual or fraught with peril? Or is it +a morbid desire to wander through the world after having died, as +it were?</p> +<p>No; far from it. What can it be? An intense longing to roam +again, if it be only for a few days. I must kill the desire, lest +it kill me.</p> +<p>Whence arises this sudden longing?</p> +<p>Every tool that I use while at work burns my hand.</p> +<p>I must go.</p> +<p>I shall obey the impulse, without worrying myself with +speculations as to its cause. I am subject to the rules of no +order. My will is my only law. I harm no one by obeying it. I feel +myself free; the world has no power over me.</p> +<p>I dreaded informing Walpurga of my intention. When I did so, her +tone, her words, her whole manner, and the fact that she for the +first time called me "child," made it seem as if her mother were +still speaking to me.</p> +<p>"Child," said she, "you're right! Go! It'll do you good. I +believe that you'll come back and will stay with us; but if you +don't, and another life opens up to you--your expiation has been a +bitter one, far heavier than your sin."</p> +<p>Uncle Peter was quite happy when he learned that we were to be +gone from one Sunday to the Sunday following. When I asked him +whether he was curious as to where we were going, he replied:--</p> +<p>"It's all one to me. I'd travel over the whole world with you, +wherever you'd care to go; and if you were to drive me away, I'd +follow you like a dog and find you again."</p> +<p>I shall take my journal with me, and will note down every +day.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>[By the lake.]--I find it difficult to write a word.</p> +<p>The threshold I am obliged to cross, in order to go out into the +world, is my own gravestone.</p> +<p>I am equal to it.</p> +<p>How pleasant it was to descend toward the valley. Uncle Peter +sang; and melodies suggested themselves to me, but I did not sing. +Suddenly he interrupted himself and said:--</p> +<p>"In the inns you'll be my niece, won't you?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"But you must call me 'uncle' when we're there?"</p> +<p>"Of course, dear uncle."</p> +<p>He kept nodding to himself for the rest of the way, and was +quite happy.</p> +<p>We reached the inn at the landing. He drank, and I drank too, +from the same glass.</p> +<p>"Where are you going?" asked the hostess.</p> +<p>"To the capital," said he, although I had not said a word to him +about it. Then he said to me in a whisper:--</p> +<p>"If you intend to go elsewhere, the people needn't know +everything."</p> +<p>I let him have his own way.</p> +<p>I looked for the place where I had wandered at that time. +There--there was the rock--and on it a cross, bearing in golden +characters the inscription:--</p> +<center>HERE PERISHED<br> +<br> +IRMA, COUNTESS VON WILDENORT,<br> +<br> +IN THE TWENTY-FIRST YEAR<br> +OF HER LIFE.<br> +<br> +<i>Traveler, pray for her and honor her memory</i>.</center> +<br> +<p>I never rightly knew why I was always dissatisfied, and yearning +for the next hour, the next day, the next year, hoping that it +would bring me that which I could not find in the present. It was +not love, for love does not satisfy. I desired to live in the +passing moment, but could not. It always seemed as if something +were waiting for me without the door, and calling me. What could it +have been?</p> +<p>I know now; it was a desire to be at one with myself, to +understand myself. Myself in the world, and the world in me.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The vain man is the loneliest of human beings. He is constantly +longing to be seen, understood, acknowledged, admired, and +loved.</p> +<p>I could say much on the subject, for I too was once vain. It was +only in actual solitude that I conquered the loneliness of vanity. +It is enough for me that I exist.</p> +<p>How far removed this is from all that is mere show.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Now I understand my father's last act. He did not mean to punish +me. His only desire was to arouse me; to lead me to +self-consciousness; to the knowledge which, teaching us to become +different from what we are, saves us.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>I understand the inscription in my father's library:--"When I am +alone, then am I least alone."</p> +<p>Yes; when alone, one can more perfectly lose himself in the life +universal. I have lived and have come to know the truth. I can now +die.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>He who is at one with himself, possesses all....</p> +<p>I believe that I know what I have done. I have no compassion for +myself. This is my full confession.</p> +<p>I have sinned--not against nature, but against the world's +rules. Is that sin? Look at the tall pines in yonder forest. The +higher the tree grows, the more do the lower branches die away; and +thus the tree in the thick forest is protected and sheltered by its +fellows, but can nevertheless not perfect itself in all +directions.</p> +<p>I desired to lead a full and complete life and yet to be in the +forest, to be in the world and yet in society. But he who means to +live thus, must remain in solitude. As soon as we become members of +society, we cease to be mere creatures of nature. Nature and +morality have equal rights, and must form a compact with each +other; and where there are two powers with equal rights, there must +be mutual concessions.</p> +<p>Herein lies my sin.</p> +<p><i>He who desires to live a life of nature alone, must withdraw +himself from the protection of morality. I did not fully desire +either the one or the other; hence I was crushed and +shattered</i>.</p> +<p>My father's last action was right. He avenged the moral law, +which is just as human as the law of nature. The animal world knows +neither father nor mother, so soon as the young is able to take +care of itself. The human world does know them and must hold them +sacred.</p> +<p>I see it all quite clearly. My sufferings and my expiation are +deserved. I was a thief! I stole the highest treasures of all: +confidence, love, honor, respect, splendor.</p> +<p>How noble and exalted the tender souls appear to themselves when +a poor rogue is sent to jail for having committed a theft! But what +are all possessions which can be carried away, when compared with +those that are intangible!</p> +<p>Those who are summoned to the bar of justice are not always the +basest of mankind.</p> +<p>I acknowledge my sin, and my repentance is sincere.</p> +<p>My fatal sin, the sin for which I now atone, was that I +dissembled, that I denied and extenuated that which I represented +to myself as a natural right. Against the Queen I have sinned worst +of all. To me she represents that moral order which I violated and +yet wished to enjoy.</p> +<p>To you, O Queen, to you--lovely, good, and deeply injured +one--do I confess all this!</p> +<p>If I die before you,--and I hope that I may,--these pages are to +be given to you.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>I can now accurately tell the season of the year, and often the +hour of the day, by the way in which the first sunbeams fall into +my room and on my work-bench in the morning. My chisel hangs before +me on the wall, and is my index.</p> +<p>The drizzling spring showers now fall on the trees; and thus it +is with me. It seems as if there were a new delight in store for +me. What can it be? I shall patiently wait!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>A strange feeling comes over me, as if I were lifted up from the +chair on which I am sitting, and were flying, I know not whither! +What is it? I feel as if dwelling in eternity.</p> +<p>Everything seems flying toward me: the sunlight and the +sunshine, the rustling of the forests and the forest breezes, +beings of all ages and of all kinds--all seem beautiful and +rendered transparent by the sun's glow.</p> +<p>I am!</p> +<p>I am in God!</p> +<p>If I could only die now and be wafted through this joy to +dissolution and redemption!</p> +<p>But I will live on until my hour comes.</p> +<p>Come, thou dark hour, whenever thou wilt! To me thou art +light!</p> +<p>I feel that there is light within me. O Eternal Spirit of the +universe, I am one with thee!</p> +<p>I was dead, and I live--I shall die and yet live.</p> +<p>Everything has been forgiven and blotted out.--There was dust on +my wings.--I soar aloft into the sun and into infinite space. I +shall die singing from the fullness of my soul. Shall I sing!</p> +<p>Enough.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>I know that I shall again be gloomy and depressed and drag along +a weary existence; but I have once soared into infinity and have +felt a ray of eternity within me. That I shall never lose again. I +should like to go to a convent, to some quiet, cloistered cell, +where I might know nothing of the world, and could live on within +myself until death shall call me. But it is not to be. I am +destined to live on in freedom and to labor; to live with my +fellow-beings and to work for them.</p> +<p>The results of my handiwork and of my powers of imagination +belong to you; but what I am within myself is mine alone.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>I have taken leave of everything here; of my quiet room, of my +summer bench; for I know not whether I shall ever return. And if I +do, who knows but what everything may have become strange to +me?</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>(Last page written in pencil.)--It is my wish that when I am +dead, I may be wrapped in a simple linen cloth, placed in a rough +unplaned coffin, and buried under the apple-tree, on the road that +leads to my paternal mansion. I desire that my brother and other +relatives may be apprised of my death at once, and that they shall +not disturb my grave by the wayside.</p> +<p>No stone, no name, is to mark my grave.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>ÉMILE <a name="AUGIER"></a>AUGIER</h2> +<h3>(1820-1889)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-a.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>s an observer of society, a satirist, and a painter of types and +characters of modern life, Émile Augier ranks among the +greatest French dramatists of this century. Critics consider him in +the line of direct descent from Molière and Beaumarchais. +His collected works ('Theatre Complet') number twenty-seven plays, +of which nine are in verse. Eight of these were written with a +literary partner. Three are now called classics: 'Le Gendre de M. +Poirier' (M. Poirier's Son-in-Law), 'L'Aventurière' (The +Adventuress), and 'Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's Boy). 'Le Gendre de +M. Poirier' was written with Jules Sandeau, but the admirers of +Augier have proved by internal evidence that his share in its +composition was the greater. It is a comedy of manners based on the +old antagonism between vulgar ignorant energy and ability on the +one side, and lazy empty birth and breeding on the other; embodied +in Poirier, a wealthy shopkeeper, and M. de Presles, his +son-in-law, an impoverished nobleman. Guillaume Victor Émile +Augier was born in Valence, France, September 17th, 1820, and was +intended for the law; but inheriting literary tastes from his +grandfather, Pigault Lebrun the romance writer, he devoted himself +to letters. When his first play, 'La Ciguë' (The Hemlock),--in +the preface to which he defended his grandfather's memory,--was +presented at the Odéon in 1844, it made the author famous. +Théophile Gautier describes it at length in Vol. iii. of his +'Art Dramatique,' and compares it to Shakespeare's 'Timon of +Athens.' It is a classic play, and the hero closes his career by a +draught of hemlock.</p> +<p>Augier's works are:--'Un Homme de Bien' (A Good Man); +'L'Aventurière' (The Adventuress); 'Gabrielle'; 'Le Joueur +de Flute' (The Flute Player); 'Diane' (Diana), a romantic play on +the same theme as Victor Hugo's 'Marion Delorme,' written for and +played by Rachel; 'La Pierre de Touche' (The Touchstone), with +Jules Sandeau; 'Philberte,' a comedy of the last century; 'Le +Mariage d'Olympe' (Olympia's Marriage); 'Le Gendre de M. Poirier' +(M. Poirier's Son-in-Law); 'Ceinture Dorée' (The Golden +Belt), with Edouard Foussier; 'La Jeunesse' (Youth); 'Les Lionnes +Pauvres' (Ambition and Poverty),--a bold story of social life in +Paris during the Second Empire, also with Foussier; 'Les +Effrontés' (Brass), an attack on the worship of money; 'Le +Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's Boy), the story of a father's devotion, +ambitions, and self-sacrifice; 'Maître Guérin' +(Guérin the Notary), the hero being an inventor; 'La +Contagion' (Contagion), the theme of which is skepticism; 'Paul +Forestier,' the story of a young artist; 'Le Post-Scriptum' (The +Postscript); 'Lions et Renards' (Lions and Foxes), whose motive is +love of power; 'Jean Thommeray,' the hero of which is drawn from +Sandeau's novel of the same title; 'Madame Caverlet,' hinging on +the divorce question; 'Les Fourchambault' (The Fourchambaults), a +plea for family union; 'La Chasse au Roman' (Pursuit of a Romance), +and 'L'Habit Vert' (The Green Coat), with Sandeau and Alfred de +Musset; and the libretto for Gounod's opera 'Sappho.' Augier wrote +one volume of verse, which he modestly called 'Pariétaire,' +the name of a common little vine, the English danewort. In 1858 he +was elected to the French Academy, and in 1868 became a Commander +of the Legion of Honor. He died at Croissy, October 25th, 1889. An +analysis of his dramas by Émile Montégut is published +in the Revue de Deux Mondes for April, 1878.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGIER_1"></a> +<h3>A CONVERSATION WITH A PURPOSE</h3> +<center>From 'Giboyer's Boy'</center> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Well, dear Baroness, what has an old bachelor +like me done to deserve so charming a visit?</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--That's what I wonder myself, Marquis. Now I see +you I don't know why I've come, and I've a great mind to go +straight back.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Sit down, vexatious one!</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--No. So you close your door for a week; your +servants all look tragic; your friends put on mourning in +anticipation; I, disconsolate, come to inquire--and behold, I find +you at table!</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--I'm an old flirt, and wouldn't show myself for +an empire when I'm in a bad temper. You wouldn't recognize your +agreeable friend when he has the gout;--that's why I hide.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--I shall rush off to reassure your friend.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--They are not so anxious as all that. Tell me +something of them.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--But somebody's waiting in my carriage.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--I'll send to ask him up.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--But I'm not sure that you know him.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--His name?</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--I met him by chance.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--And you brought him by chance. [<i>He +rings</i>.] You are a mother to me. [<i>To Dubois</i>.] You will +find an ecclesiastic in Madame's carriage. Tell him I'm much +obliged for his kind alacrity, but I think I won't die this +morning.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--O Marquis! what would our friends say if they +heard you?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Bah! I'm the black sheep of the party, its +spoiled child; that's taken for granted. Dubois, you may say also +that Madame begs the Abbé to drive home, and to send her +carriage back for her.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Allow me--</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Go along, Dubois.--Now you are my prisoner.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--But, Marquis, this is very unconventional.</p> +<p><i>Marquis [kissing her hand</i>]--Flatterer! Now sit down, and +let's talk about serious things. <i>[Taking a newspaper from the +table</i>.] The gout hasn't kept me from reading the news. Do you +know that poor Déodat's death is a serious mishap?</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--What a loss to our cause!</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--I have wept for him.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Such talent! Such spirit! Such sarcasm!</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--He was the hussar of orthodoxy. He will live in +history as the angelic pamphleteer. And now that we have settled +his noble ghost--</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--You speak very lightly about it, Marquis.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--I tell you I've wept for him.--Now let's think +of some one to replace him.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Say to succeed him. Heaven doesn't create two +such men at the same time.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--What if I tell you that I have found such +another? Yes, Baroness, I've unearthed a wicked, cynical, virulent +pen, that spits and splashes; a fellow who would lard his own +father with epigrams for a consideration, and who would eat him +with salt for five francs more.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Déodat had sincere convictions.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--That's because he fought for them. There are no +more mercenaries. The blows they get convince them. I'll give this +fellow a week to belong to us body and soul.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--If you haven't any other proofs of his +faithfulness--</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--But I have.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Where from?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Never mind. I have it.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--And why do you wait before presenting him?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--For him in the first place, and then for his +consent. He lives in Lyons, and I expect him to-day or to-morrow. +As soon as he is presentable, I'll introduce him.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Meanwhile, I'll tell the committee of your +find.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--I beg you, no. With regard to the committee, +dear Baroness, I wish you'd use your influence in a matter which +touches me.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--I have not much influence--</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Is that modesty, or the exordium of a +refusal?</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--If either, it's modesty.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Very well, my charming friend. Don't you know +that these gentlemen owe you too much to refuse you anything?</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Because they meet in my parlor?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--That, yes; but the true, great, inestimable +service you render every day is to possess such superb eyes.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--It's well for you to pay attention to such +things!</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Well for me, but better for these Solons whose +compliments don't exceed a certain romantic intensity.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--You are dreaming.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--What I say is true. That's why serious societies +always rally in the parlor of a woman, sometimes clever, sometimes +beautiful. You are both, Madame: judge then of your power!</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--You are too complimentary: your cause must be +detestable.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--If it was good I could win it for myself.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Come, tell me, tell me.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Well, then: we must choose an orator to the +Chamber for our Campaign against the University. I want them to +choose--</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Monsieur Maréchal?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--You are right.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Do you really think so, Marquis? Monsieur +Maréchal?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Yes, I know. But we don't need a bolt of +eloquence, since we'll furnish the address. Maréchal reads +well enough, I assure you.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--We made him deputy on your recommendation. That +was a good deal.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Maréchal is an excellent recruit.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--So you say.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--How disgusted you are! An old subscriber to the +Constitutionnel, a liberal, a Voltairean, who comes over to the +enemy bag and baggage. What would you have? Monsieur +Maréchal is not a man, my dear: it's the stout +<i>bourgeoisie</i> itself coming over to us. I love this honest +<i>bourgeoisie</i>, which hates the revolution, since there is no +more to be gotten out of it; which wants to stem the tide which +brought it, and make over a little feudal France to its own profit. +Let it draw our chestnuts from the fire if it wants to. This +pleasant sight makes me enjoy politics. Long live Monsieur +Maréchal and his likes, <i>bourgeois</i> of the right +divine. Let us heap these precious allies with honor and glory +until our triumph ships them off to their mills again.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Several of our deputies are birds of the same +feather. Why choose the least capable for orator?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--It's not a question of capacity.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--You're a warm patron of Monsieur +Maréchal!</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--I regard him as a kind of family +protégé. His grandfather was farmer to mine. I'm his +daughter's guardian. These are bonds.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--You don't tell everything.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--All that I know.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Then let me complete your information. They say +that in old times you fell in love with the first Madame +Maréchal.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--I hope you don't believe this silly story?</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Faith, you do so much to please Monsieur +Maréchal--</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--That it seems as if I must have injured him? +Good heavens! Who is safe from malice? Nobody. Not even you, dear +Baroness.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--I'd like to know what they can say of me.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Foolish things that I certainly won't +repeat.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Then you believe them?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--God forbid! That your dead husband married his +mother's companion? It made me so angry!</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Too much honor for such wretched gossip.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--I answered strongly enough, I can tell you.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--I don't doubt it.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--But you are right in wanting to marry again.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Who says I want to?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Ah! you don't treat me as a friend. I deserve +your confidence all the more for understanding you as if you had +given it. The aid of a sorcerer is not to be despised, +Baroness.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i> [<i>sitting down by the table</i>]--Prove your +sorcery.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i> [<i>sitting down opposite</i>]--Willingly! Give +me your hand.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i> [<i>removing her glove</i>]--You'll give it back +again.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--And help you dispose of it, which is more. +[<i>Examining her hand</i>.] You are beautiful, rich, and a +widow.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--I could believe myself at Mademoiselle +Lenormand's!</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--While it is so easy, not to say tempting, for +you to lead a brilliant, frivolous life, you have chosen a +rôle almost austere with its irreproachable morals.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--If it was a rôle, you'll admit that it +was much like a penitence.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Not for you.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--What do you know about it?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--I read it in your hand. I even see that the +contrary would cost you more, for nature has gifted your heart with +unalterable calmness.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i> [<i>drawing away her hand</i>]--Say at once that +I'm a monster.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Time enough! The credulous think you a saint; +the skeptics say you desire power; I, Guy François +Condorier, Marquis d'Auberive, think you a clever little German, +trying to build a throne for yourself in the Faubourg +Saint-Germain. You have conquered the men, but the women resist +you: your reputation offends them; and for want of a better weapon +they use this miserable rumor I've just repeated. In short, your +flag's inadequate and you're looking for a larger one. Henry IV. +said that Paris was worth a mass. You think so too.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--They say sleep-walkers shouldn't be +contradicted. However, do let me say that if I really wanted a +husband--with my money and my social position, I might already have +found twenty.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Twenty, yes; but not one. You forget this little +devil of a rumor.</p> +<p><i>Baroness [rising]</i>--Only fools believe that.</p> +<p><i>Marquis [rising]</i>--There's the <i>hic</i>. It's only very +clever men, too clever, who court you, and you want a fool.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Why?</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Because you don't want a master. You want a +husband whom you can keep in your parlor, like a family portrait, +nothing more.</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Have you finished, dear diviner? What you have +just said lacks common-sense, but you are amusing, and I can refuse +you nothing.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--Maréchal shall have the oration?</p> +<p><i>Baroness</i>--Or I'll lose my name.</p> +<p><i>Marquis</i>--And you <i>shall</i> lose your name--I promise +you.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGIER_2"></a> +<h3>A SEVERE YOUNG JUDGE</h3> +<center>From 'The Adventuress'</center> +<p><i>Clorinde</i> [<i>softly</i>]--Here's Célie. Look at +her clear eyes. I love her, innocent child!</p> +<p><i>Annibal</i>--Yes, yes, yes! [<i>He sits down in a +corner.</i>]</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i> [<i>approaching Célie, who has paused in +the doorway</i>]--My child, you would not avoid me to-day if you +knew how happy you make me!</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--My father has ordered me to come to +you.</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i>--Ordered you? Did you need an order? Are we +really on such terms? Tell me, do you think I do not love you, that +you should look upon me as your enemy? Dear, if you could read my +heart you would find there the tenderest attachment.</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--I do not know whether you are sincere, +Madame. I hope that you are not, for it distresses one to be loved +by those--</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i>--Whom one does not love? They must have painted +me black indeed, that you are so reluctant to believe in my +friendship.</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--They have told me--what I have heard, +thanks to you, Madame, was not fit for my young ears. This +interview is cruel--Please let me--</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i>--No, no! Stay, Mademoiselle. For this interview, +painful to us both, nevertheless concerns us both.</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--I am not your judge, Madame.</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i>--Nevertheless you do judge me, and severely! +Yes, my life has been blameworthy; I confess it. But you know +nothing of its temptations. How should you know, sweet soul, to +whom life is happy and goodness easy? Child, you have your family +to guard you. You have happiness to keep watch and ward for you. +How should you know what poverty whispers to young ears on cold +evenings! You, who have never been hungry, how should you +understand the price that is asked for a mouthful of bread?</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--I don't know the pleadings of poverty, but +one need not listen to them. There are many poor girls who go +hungry and cold and keep from harm.</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i>--Child, their courage is sublime. Honor them if +you will, but pity the cowards.</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--Yes, for choosing infamy rather than work, +hunger, or death! Yes, for losing the respect of all honest souls! +Yes, I can pity them for not being worthier of pity.</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i>--So that's your Christian charity! So nothing in +the world--bitter repentance or agonies of suffering, or vows of +sanctity for all time to come--may obliterate the past?</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--You force me to speak without knowledge. +But--since I must give judgment--who really hates a fault will hate +the fruit of it. If you keep this place, Madame, you will not +expect me to believe in the genuineness of your renunciations.</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i>--I do not dishonor it. There is no reason why I +should leave it. I have already proved my sincerity by high-minded +and generous acts. I bear myself as my place demands. My conscience +is at rest.</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--Your good action--for I believe you--is +only the beginning of expiation. Virtue seems to me like a holy +temple. You may leave it by a door with a single step, but to enter +again you must climb up a hundred on your knees, beating your +breast.</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i>--How rigid you all are, and how your parents +train their first-born never to open the ranks! Oh, fortunate race! +impenetrable phalanx of respectability, who make it impossible for +the sinner to reform! You keep the way of repentance so rough that +the foot of poor humanity cannot tread it. God will demand from you +the lost souls whom your hardness has driven back to sin.</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--God, do you say? When good people forgive +they betray his justice. For punishment is not retribution only, +but the acknowledgment and recompense of those fighting ones that +brave hunger and cold in a garret, Madame, yet do not +surrender.</p> +<p><i>Clorinde</i>--Go, child! I cannot bear more--</p> +<p><i>Célie</i>--I have said more than I meant to say. +Good-by. This is the first and last time that I shall ever speak of +this.</p> +<p>[<i>She goes</i>.]</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGIER_3"></a> +<h3>A CONTENTED IDLER</h3> +<center>From 'M. Poirier's Son-in-Law'</center> +<p>[<i>The party are leaving the dining-room.</i>]</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Well, Hector! What do you think of it? The house +is just as you see it now, every day in the year. Do you believe +there is a happier man in the world than I?</p> +<p><i>Duke</i>--Faith! I envy you; you reconcile me to +marriage.</p> +<p><i>Antoinette</i> [<i>in a low voice to Verdelet</i>]--Monsieur +de Montmeyran is a charming young man!</p> +<p><i>Verdelet</i> [<i>in a low voice</i>]--He pleases me.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i> [<i>to Poirier, who comes in last</i>]--Monsieur +Poirier, I must tell you once for all how much I esteem you. Don't +think I'm ungrateful.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Oh! Monsieur!</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Why the devil don't you call me Gaston? And you, +too, dear Monsieur Verdelet, I'm very glad to see you.</p> +<p><i>Antoinette</i>--He is one of the family, Gaston.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Shake hands then, Uncle.</p> +<p><i>Verdelet</i> [<i>aside, giving him his hand</i>]--He's not a +bad fellow.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Agree, Hector, that I've been lucky. Monsieur +Poirier, I feel guilty. You make my life one long fête and +never give me a chance in return. Try to think of something I can +do for you.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Very well, if that's the way you feel, give me a +quarter of an hour. I should like to have a serious talk with +you.</p> +<p><i>Duke</i>--I'll withdraw.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--No, stay, Monsieur. We are going to hold a kind +of family council. Neither you nor Verdelet will be in the way.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--The deuce, my dear father-in-law. A family +council! You embarrass me!</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Not at all, dear Gaston. Let us sit down.</p> +<p>[<i>They seat themselves around the fireplace</i>.]</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Begin, Monsieur Poirier.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--You say you are happy, dear Gaston, and that is +my greatest recompense.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--I'm willing to double your gratification.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--But now that three months have been given to the +joys of the honeymoon, I think that there has been romance enough, +and that it's time to think about history.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--You talk like a book. Certainly, we'll think +about history if you wish. I'm willing.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--What do you intend to do?</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--To-day?</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--And to-morrow, and in the future. You must have +some idea.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--True, my plans are made. I expect to do to-day +what I did yesterday, and to-morrow what I shall do to-day. I'm not +versatile, in spite of my light air; and if the future is only like +the present I'll be satisfied.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--But you are too sensible to think that the +honeymoon can last forever.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Too sensible, and too good an astronomer. But +you've probably read Heine?</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--You must have read that, Verdelet?</p> +<p><i>Verdelet</i>--Yes; I've read him.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Perhaps he spent his life at playing truant.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Well, Heine, when he was asked what became of the +old full moons, said that they were broken up to make the +stars.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--I don't understand.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--When our honeymoon is old, we'll break it up and +there'll be enough to make a whole Milky Way.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--That is a clever idea, of course.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Its only merit is simplicity.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--But seriously, don't you think that the idle +life you lead may jeopardize the happiness of a young +household?</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Not at all.</p> +<p><i>Verdelet</i>--A man of your capacity can't mean to idle all +his life.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--With resignation.</p> +<p><i>Antoinette</i>--Don't you think you'll find it dull after a +time, Gaston?</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--You calumniate yourself, my dear.</p> +<p><i>Antoinette</i>--I'm not vain enough to suppose that I can +fill your whole existence, and I admit that I'd like to see you +follow the example of Monsieur de Montmeyran.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i> [<i>rising and leaning against the +mantelpiece</i>]--Perhaps you want me to fight?</p> +<p><i>Antoinette</i>--No, of course not.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--What then?</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--We want you to take a position worthy of your +name.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--There are only three positions which my name +permits me: soldier, bishop, or husbandman. Choose.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--We owe everything to France. France is our +mother.</p> +<p><i>Verdelet</i>--I understand the vexation of a son whose mother +remarries; I understand why he doesn't go to the wedding: but if he +has the right kind of heart he won't turn sulky. If the second +husband makes her happy, he'll soon offer him a friendly hand.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--The nobility cannot always hold itself aloof, as +it begins to perceive. More than one illustrious name has set the +example: Monsieur de Valcherrière, Monsieur de Chazerolles, +Monsieur de Mont Louis--</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--These men have done as they thought best. I don't +judge them, but I cannot imitate them.</p> +<p><i>Antoinette</i>--Why not, Gaston?</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Ask Montmeyran.</p> +<p><i>Verdelet</i>--The Duke's uniform answers for him.</p> +<p><i>Duke</i>--Excuse me, a soldier has but one opinion--his duty; +but one adversary--the enemy.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--However, Monsieur--</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Enough, it isn't a matter of politics, Monsieur +Poirier. One may discuss opinions, but not sentiments. I am bound +by gratitude. My fidelity is that of a servant and of a friend. Not +another word. [<i>To the Duke</i>.] I beg your pardon, my dear +fellow. This is the first time we've talked politics here, and I +promise you it shall be the last.</p> +<p><i>The Duke</i> [<i>in a low voice to Antoinette</i>]--You've +been forced into making a mistake, Madame.</p> +<p><i>Antoinette</i>--I know it, now that it's too late.</p> +<p><i>Verdelet</i> [<i>softly, to Poirier</i>]--Now you're in a +fine fix.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i> [<i>in same tone</i>]--He's repulsed the first +assault, but I don't raise the siege.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--I'm not resentful, Monsieur Poirier. Perhaps I +spoke a little too strongly, but this is a tender point with me, +and unintentionally you wounded me. Shake hands.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--You are very kind.</p> +<p><i>A Servant</i>--There are some people in the little parlor who +say they have an appointment with Monsieur Poirier.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Very well, ask them to wait a moment. [<i>The +servant goes out</i>.] Your creditors, son-in-law.</p> +<p><i>Gaston</i>--Yours, my dear father-in-law. I've turned them +over to you.</p> +<p><i>Duke</i>--As a wedding present.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGIER_4"></a> +<h3>THE FEELINGS OF AN ARTIST</h3> +<center>From 'M. Poirier's Son-in-Law'</center> +<p><i>Poirier</i> [<i>alone</i>]--How vexatious he is, that +son-in-law of mine! and there's no way to get rid of him. He'll die +a nobleman, for he will do nothing and he is good for +nothing.--There's no end to the money he costs me.--He is master of +my house.--I'll put a stop to it. [<i>He rings. Enter a +servant</i>.] Send up the porter and the cook. We shall see my +son-in-law! I have set up my back. I've unsheathed my velvet paws. +You will make no concessions, eh, my fine gentleman? Take your +comfort! I will not yield either: you may remain marquis, and I +will again become a <i>bourgeois</i>. At least I'll have the +pleasure of living to my fancy.</p> +<p><i>The Porter</i>--Monsieur has sent for me?</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Yes, François, Monsieur has sent for you. +You can put the sign on the door at once.</p> +<p><i>The Porter</i>--The sign?</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--"To let immediately, a magnificent apartment on +the first floor, with stables and carriage houses."</p> +<p><i>The Porter</i>--The apartment of Monsieur le Marquis?</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--You have said it, François.</p> +<p><i>The Porter</i>--But Monsieur le Marquis has not given the +order.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Who is the master here, donkey? Who owns this +mansion?</p> +<p><i>The Porter</i>--You, Monsieur.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Then do what I tell you without arguing.</p> +<p><i>The Porter</i>--Yes, Monsieur. [<i>Enter Vatel</i>.]</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Go, François. [<i>Exit Porter</i>.] Come +in, Monsieur Vatel: you are getting up a big dinner for +to-morrow?</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--Yes, Monsieur, and I venture to say that the menu +would not be disowned by my illustrious ancestor himself. It is +really a work of art, and Monsieur Poirier will be astonished.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Have you the menu with you?</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--No, Monsieur, it is being copied; but I know it by +heart.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Then recite it to me.</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--Le potage aux ravioles à l'Italienne et le +potage à l'orge à la Marie Stuart.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--You will replace these unknown concoctions by a +good meat soup, with some vegetables on a plate.</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--What, Monsieur?</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--I mean it. Go on.</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--Relevé. La carpe du Rhin à la +Lithuanienne, les poulardes à la Godard--le filet de boeuf +braisé aux raisins à la Napolitaine, le jambon de +Westphalie, rotie madère.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--Here is a simpler and far more sensible fish +course: brill with caper sauce--then Bayonne ham with spinach, and +a savory stew of bird, with well-browned rabbit.</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--But, Monsieur Poirier--I will never consent.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--I am master--do you hear? Go on.</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--Entrées. Les filets de volaille à la +concordat--les croustades de truffe garniés de foies +à la royale, le faison étoffe à la +Montpensier, les perdreaux rouges farcis à la +bohemienne.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--In place of these side dishes we will have +nothing at all, and we will go at once to the roast,--that is the +only essential.</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--That is against the precepts of art.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--I'll take the blame of that: let us have your +roasts.</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--It is not worth while, Monsieur: my ancestor would +have run his sword through his body for a less affront. I offer my +resignation.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--And I was about to ask for it, my good friend; +but as one has eight days to replace a servant--</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--A servant, Monsieur? I am an artist!</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i>--I will fill your place by a woman. But in the +mean time, as you still have eight days in my service, I wish you +to prepare my menu.</p> +<p><i>Vatel</i>--I will blow my brains out before I dishonor my +name.</p> +<p><i>Poirier</i> [<i>aside</i>]--Another fellow who adores his +name! [<i>Aloud</i>.] You may burn your brains, Monsieur Vatel, but +don't burn your sauces.--Well, <i>bon jour</i>! [<i>Exit +Vatel</i>.] And now to write invitations to my old cronies of the +Rue des Bourdonnais. Monsieur le Marquis de Presles, I'll soon take +the starch out of you.</p> +<p>[<i>He goes out whistling the first couplet of 'Monsieur and +Madame Denis.'</i>]</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGIER_5"></a> +<h3>A CONTEST OF WILLS</h3> +<center>From 'The Fourchambaults'</center> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Why do you follow me?</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--I'm not following you: I'm accompanying +you.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--I despise you; let me alone. Oh! my +poor mother little thought what a life of privation would be mine +when she gave me to you with a dowry of eight hundred thousand +francs!</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--A life of privation--because I refuse you +a yacht!</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--I thought my dowry permitted me to +indulge a few whims, but it seems I was wrong.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--A whim costing eight thousand francs!</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Would you have to pay for it?</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--That's the kind of reasoning that's +ruining me.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Now he says I'm ruining him! His +whole fortune comes from me.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--Now don't get angry, my dear. I want you +to have everything in reason, but you must understand the +situation.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--The situation?</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--I ought to be a rich man; but thanks to +the continual expenses you incur in the name of your dowry, I can +barely rub along from day to day. If there should be a sudden fall +in stocks, I have no reserve with which to meet it.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--That can't be true! Tell me at once +that it isn't true, for if it were so you would be without +excuse.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--I or you?</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--This is too much! Is it my fault +that you don't understand business? If you haven't had the wit to +make the best use of your way of living and your family +connections--any one else--</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--Quite likely! But I am petty enough to be +a scrupulous man, and to wish to remain one.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Pooh! That's the excuse of all the +dolts who can't succeed. They set up to be the only honest fellows +in business. In my opinion, Monsieur, a timid and mediocre man +should not insist upon remaining at the head of a bank, but should +turn the position over to his son.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--You are still harping on that? But, my +dear, you might as well bury me alive! Already I'm a mere cipher in +my family.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--You do not choose your time well to +pose as a victim, when like a tyrant you are refusing me a mere +trifle.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--I refuse you nothing. I merely explain my +position. Now do as you like. It is useless to expostulate.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--At last! But you have wounded me to +the heart, Adrien, and just when I had a surprise for you--</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--What is your surprise? [<i>Aside</i>: It +makes me tremble.]</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Thanks to me, the Fourchambaults +are going to triumph over the Duhamels.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--How?</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Madame Duhamel has been determined +this long time to marry her daughter to the son of the prefect.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--I knew it. What about it?</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--While she was making a goose of +herself so publicly, I was quietly negotiating, and Baron +Rastiboulois is coming to ask our daughter's hand.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--That will never do! I'm planning quite a +different match for her.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--You? I should like to know--</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--He's a fine fellow of our own set, who +loves Blanche, and whom she loves if I'm not mistaken.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--You are entirely mistaken. You mean +Victor Chauvet, Monsieur Bernard's clerk?</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--His right arm, rather. His <i>alter +ego</i>.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Blanche did think of him at one +time. But her fancy was just a morning mist, which I easily +dispelled. She has forgotten all about him, and I advise you to +follow her example.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--What fault can you find with this young +man?</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Nothing and everything. Even his +name is absurd. I never would have consented to be called Madame +Chauvet, and Blanche is as proud as I was. But that is only a +detail; the truth is, I won't have her marry a clerk.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--You won't have! You won't have! But there +are two of us.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Are you going to portion +Blanche?</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--I? No.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Then you see there are not two of +us. As I am going to portion her, it is my privilege to choose my +son-in-law.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--And mine to refuse him. I tell you I won't +have your little baron at any price.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Now it is your turn. What fault can +you find with him, except his title?</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--He's fast, a gambler, worn out by +dissipation.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--Blanche likes him just as he +is.</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--Heavens! He's not even handsome.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--What does that matter? Haven't I +been the happiest of wives?</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--What? One word is as good as a hundred. I +won't have him. Blanche need not take Chauvet, but she shan't marry +Rastiboulois either. That's all I have to say.</p> +<p><i>Madame Fourchambault</i>--But, Monsieur--</p> +<p><i>Fourchambault</i>--That's all I have to say.</p> +<p>[<i>He goes out.</i>]</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>ST. <a name="AUGUSTINE"></a>AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO</h2> +<h3>(354-430)</h3> +<h3>BY SAMUEL HART</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-s.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>t. Augustine of Hippo (Aurelius Augustinus) was born at Tagaste +in Numidia, November 13th, 354. The story of his life has been told +by himself in that wonderful book addressed to God which he called +the 'Confessions'. He gained but little from his father Patricius; +he owed almost everything to his loving and saintly mother Monica. +Though she was a Christian, she did not venture to bring her son to +baptism; and he went away from home with only the echo of the name +of Jesus Christ in his soul, as it had been spoken by his mother's +lips. He fell deeply into the sins of youth, but found no +satisfaction in them, nor was he satisfied by the studies of +literature to which for a while he devoted himself. The reading of +Cicero's 'Hortensius' partly called him back to himself; but before +he was twenty years old he was carried away into Manichæism, +a strange system of belief which united traces of Christian +teaching with Persian doctrines of two antagonistic principles, +practically two gods, a good god of the spiritual world and an evil +god of the material world. From this he passed after a while into +less gross forms of philosophical speculation, and presently began +to lecture on rhetoric at Tagaste and at Carthage. When nearly +thirty years of age he went to Rome, only to be disappointed in his +hopes for glory as a rhetorician; and after two years his mother +joined him at Milan.</p> +<br> +<a name="image058.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image058.jpg"><img src= +"images/image058.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>St. Augustine and His Mother</b><br> +<i>Photogravure from a Painting by Ary Scheffer</i></p> +<br> +<p>The great Ambrose had been called from the magistrate's chair to +be bishop of this important city; and his character and ability +made a great impression on Augustine. But Augustine was kept from +acknowledging and submitting to the truth, not by the intellectual +difficulties which he propounded as an excuse, but by his +unwillingness to submit to the moral demands which Christianity +made upon him. At last there came one great struggle, described in +a passage from the 'Confessions' which is given below; and Monica's +hopes and prayers were answered in the conversion of her son to the +faith and obedience of Jesus Christ. On Easter Day, 387, in the +thirty-third year of his life, he was baptized, an unsubstantiated +tradition assigning to this occasion the composition and first use +of the <i>Te Deum</i>. His mother died at Ostia as they were +setting out for Africa; and he returned to his native land, with +the hope that he might there live a life of retirement and of +simple Christian obedience. But this might not be: on the occasion +of Augustine's visit to Hippo in 391, the bishop of that city +persuaded him to receive ordination to the priesthood and to remain +with him as an adviser; and four years later he was consecrated as +colleague or coadjutor in the episcopate. Thus he entered on a busy +public life of thirty-five years, which called for the exercise of +all his powers as a Christian, a metaphysician, a man of letters, a +theologian, an ecclesiastic, and an administrator.</p> +<p>Into the details of that life it is impossible to enter here; it +must suffice to indicate some of the ways in which as a writer he +gained and still holds a high place in Western Christendom, having +had an influence which can be paralleled, from among uninspired +men, only by that of Aristotle. He maintained the unity of the +Church, and its true breadth, against the Donatists; he argued, as +he so well could argue, against the irreligion of the Manichaeans; +when the great Pelagian heresy arose, he defended the truth of the +doctrine of divine grace as no one could have done who had not +learned by experience its power in the regeneration and conversion +of his own soul; he brought out from the treasures of Holy +Scripture ample lessons of truth and duty, in simple exposition and +exhortation; and in full treatises he stated and enforced the great +doctrines of Christianity.</p> +<p>Augustine was not alone or chiefly the stern theologian whom men +picture to themselves when they are told that he was the Calvin of +those early days, or when they read from his voluminous and often +illogical writings quotations which have a hard sound. If he taught +a stern doctrine of predestinarianism, he taught also the great +power of sacramental grace; if he dwelt at times on the awfulness +of the divine justice, he spoke also from the depths of his +experience of the power of the divine love; and his influence on +the ages has been rather that of the 'Confessions'--taking their +key-note from the words of the first chapter, "Thou, O Lord, hast +made us for Thy-*self, and our heart is unquiet until it find rest +in Thee"--than that of the writings which have earned for their +author the foremost place among the Doctors of the Western Church. +But his greatest work, without any doubt, is the treatise on the +'City of God.' The Roman empire, as Augustine's life passed on, was +hastening to its end. Moral and political declension had doubtless +been arrested by the good influence which had been brought to bear +upon it; but it was impossible to avert its fall. "Men's hearts," +as well among the heathen as among the Christians, were "failing +them for fear and for looking after those things that were coming +on the earth." And Christianity was called to meet the argument +drawn from the fact that the visible declension seemed to date from +the time when the new religion was introduced into the Roman world, +and that the most rapid decline had been from the time when it had +been accepted as the religion of the State. It fell to the Bishop +of Hippo to write in reply one of the greatest works ever written +by a Christian. Eloquence and learning, argument and irony, appeals +to history and earnest entreaties, are united to move enemies to +acknowledge the truth and to strengthen the faithful in maintaining +it. The writer sets over against each other the city of the world +and the city of God, and in varied ways draws the contrast between +them; and while mourning over the ruin that is coming upon the +great city that had become a world-empire, he tells of the holy +beauty and enduring strength of "the city that hath the +foundations."</p> +<p>Apart from the interest attaching to the great subjects handled +by St. Augustine in his many works, and from the literary +attractions of writings which unite high moral earnestness and the +use of a cultivated rhetorical style, his works formed a model for +Latin theologians as long as that language continued to be +habitually used by Western scholars; and to-day both the spirit and +the style of the great man have a wide influence on the devotional +and the controversial style of writers on sacred subjects.</p> +<p>He died at Hippo, August 28th, 430.</p> +<p class="sign"><img src="images/sign062.png" width="60%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p>The selections are from the 'Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene +Fathers,' by permission of the Christian Literature Company.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGUSTINE_1"></a> +<h3>THE GODLY SORROW THAT WORKETH REPENTANCE</h3> +<center>From the 'Confessions'</center> +<p>Such was the story of Pontitianus: but thou, O Lord, while he +was speaking, didst turn me round towards myself, taking me from +behind my back, when I had placed myself, unwilling to observe +myself; and setting me before my face, that I might see how foul I +was, how crooked and defiled, bespotted and ulcerous. And I beheld +and stood aghast; and whither to flee from myself I found not. And +if I sought to turn mine eye from off myself, he went on with his +relation, and thou didst again set me over against myself, and +thrusted me before my eyes, that I might find out mine iniquity and +hate it. I had known it, but made as though I saw it not, winked at +it, and forgot it.</p> +<p>But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful +affections I heard of, that they had resigned themselves wholly to +thee to be cured, the more did I abhor myself when compared with +them. For many of my years (some twelve) had now run out with me +since my nineteenth, when, upon the reading of Cicero's +'Hortensius,' I was stirred to an earnest love of wisdom; and still +I was deferring to reject mere earthly felicity and to give myself +to search out that, whereof not the finding only, but the very +search, was to be preferred to the treasures and kingdoms of the +world, though already found, and to the pleasures of the body, +though spread around me at my will. But I, wretched, most wretched, +in the very beginning of my early youth, had begged chastity of +thee, and said, "Give me chastity and continency, only not yet." +For I feared lest thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure me of +the disease of concupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, +rather than extinguished. And I had wandered through crooked ways +in a sacrilegious superstition, not indeed assured thereof, but as +preferring it to the others which I did not seek religiously, but +opposed maliciously.</p> +<p>But when a deep consideration had, from the secret bottom of my +soul, drawn together and heaped up all my misery in the sight of my +heart, there arose a mighty storm, bringing a mighty shower of +tears. And that I might pour it forth wholly in its natural +expressions, I rose from Alypius: solitude was suggested to me as +fitter for the business of weeping; and I retired so far that even +his presence could not be a burden to me. Thus was it then with me, +and he perceived something of it; for something I suppose he had +spoken, wherein the tones of my voice appeared choked with weeping, +and so had risen up. He then remained where we were sitting, most +extremely astonished. I cast myself down I know not how, under a +fig-tree, giving full vent to my tears; and the floods of mine eyes +gushed out, an acceptable sacrifice to thee. And, not indeed in +these words, yet to this purpose, spake I much unto thee:--"And +thou, O Lord, how long? how long, Lord, wilt thou be +angry--forever? Remember not our former iniquities," for I felt +that I was held by them. I sent up these sorrowful words: "How +long? how long? To-morrow and to-morrow? Why not now? why is there +not this hour an end to my uncleanness?"</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGUSTINE_2"></a> +<h3>CONSOLATION</h3> +<center>From the 'Confessions'</center> +<p>So was I speaking, and weeping, in the most bitter contrition of +my heart, when lo! I heard from a neighboring house a voice, as of +boy or girl (I could not tell which), chanting and oft repeating, +"Take up and read; take up and read." Instantly my countenance +altered, and I began to think most intently whether any were wont +in any kind of play to sing such words, nor could I remember ever +to have heard the like. So, checking the torrent of my tears, I +arose; interpreting it to be no other than a command from God, to +open the book and read the first chapter I should find. Eagerly +then I returned to the place where Alypius was sitting; for there +had I laid the volume of the Epistles when I arose thence. I +seized, opened, and in silence read that section on which my eyes +first fell:--"Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and +wantonness, not in strife and envying; but put ye on the Lord Jesus +Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts +thereof." No further would I read; nor heeded I, for instantly at +the end of this sentence, by a light, as it were, of serenity +infused into my heart, all the darkness of doubt vanished away.</p> +<br> +<a name="image066.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image066.jpg"><img src= +"images/image066.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></a><br> +<i>PAPYRUS</i>.<br> +<br> +Reduced facsimile of a Latin manuscript containing the<br> +<br> +SERMONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE.<br> +<br> +Sixth Century. In the National Library at Paris.<br> +<br> +A fine specimen of sixth-century writing upon sheets formed of two +thin layers of<br> +longitudinal strips of the stem or pith of the papyrus plant +pressed<br> +together at right angles to each other.</p> +<br> +<p>Then putting my finger between (or some other mark), I shut the +volume, and with a calmed countenance, made it known to Alypius. +And what was wrought in him, which I know not, he thus shewed me. +He asked to see what I had read; I shewed him, and he looked even +farther than I had read, and I knew not what followed. This +followed: "Him that is weak in the faith, receive ye"; which he +applied to himself and disclosed to me. And by this admonition was +he strengthened; and by a good resolution and purpose, and most +corresponding to his character, wherein he did always far differ +from me for the better, without any turbulent delay he joined me. +Thence we go to my mother: we tell her; she rejoiceth: we relate in +order how it took place; she leapeth for joy, and triumpheth and +blesseth thee, "who art able to do above all that we ask or think": +for she perceived that thou hadst given her more for me than she +was wont to beg by her pitiful and most sorrowful groanings.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGUSTINE_3"></a> +<h3>THE FOES OF THE CITY</h3> +<center>From 'The City of God'</center> +<p>Let these and similar answers (if any fuller and fitter answers +can be found) be given to their enemies by the redeemed family of +the Lord Christ, and by the pilgrim city of the King Christ. But +let this city bear in mind that among her enemies lie hid those who +are destined to be fellow-citizens, that she may not think it a +fruitless labor to bear what they inflict as enemies, till they +become confessors of the faith. So also, as long as she is a +stranger in the world, the city of God has in her communion, and +bound to her by the sacraments, some who shall not eternally dwell +in the lot of the saints. Of these, some are not now recognized; +others declare themselves, and do not hesitate to make common cause +with our enemies in murmuring against God, whose sacramental badge +they wear. These men you may see to-day thronging the churches with +us, to-morrow crowding the theatres with the godless. But we have +the less reason to despair of the reclamation of even such persons, +if among our most declared enemies there are now some, unknown to +themselves, who are destined to become our friends. In truth, these +two cities are entangled together in this world, and intermingled +until the last judgment shall effect their separation. I now +proceed to speak, as God shall help me, of the rise and progress +and end of these two cities; and what I write, I write for the +glory of the city of God, that being placed in comparison with the +other, it may shine with a brighter lustre.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGUSTINE_4"></a> +<h3>THE PRAISE OF GOD</h3> +<center>From 'The City of God'</center> +<p>Wherefore it may very well be, and it is perfectly credible, +that we shall in the future world see the material forms of the new +heavens and the new earth, in such a way that we shall most +distinctly recognize God everywhere present, and governing all +things, material as well as spiritual; and shall see Him, not as we +now understand the invisible things of God, by the things that are +made, and see Him darkly as in a mirror and in part, and rather by +faith than by bodily vision of material appearances, but by means +of the bodies which we shall wear and which we shall see wherever +we turn our eyes. As we do not believe, but see, that the living +men around us who are exercising the functions of life are alive, +although we cannot see their life without their bodies, but see it +most distinctly by means of their bodies, so, wherever we shall +look with the spiritual eyes of our future bodies, we shall also, +by means of bodily substances, behold God, though a spirit, ruling +all things. Either, therefore, the eyes shall possess some quality +similar to that of the mind, by which they shall be able to discern +spiritual things, and among them God,--a supposition for which it +is difficult or even impossible to find any support in +Scripture,--or what is more easy to comprehend, God will be so +known by us, and so much before us, that we shall see Him by the +spirit in ourselves, in one another, in Himself, in the new heavens +and the new earth, in every created thing that shall then exist; +and that also by the body we shall see Him in every bodily thing +which the keen vision of the eye of the spiritual body shall reach. +Our thoughts also shall be visible to all, for then shall be +fulfilled the words of the Apostle, "Judge nothing before the time, +until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things +of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts; and +then shall every man have praise of God." How great shall be that +felicity, which shall be tainted with no evil, which shall lack no +good, and which shall afford leisure for the praises of God, who +shall be all in all! For I know not what other employment there can +be where no weariness shall slacken activity, nor any want +stimulate to labor. I am admonished also by the sacred song, in +which I read or hear the words, "Blessed are they that dwell in Thy +house; they will be alway praising Thee."</p> +<br> +<a name="AUGUSTINE_5"></a> +<h3>A PRAYER</h3> +<center>From 'The Trinity'</center> +<p>O Lord our God, directing my purpose by the rule of faith, so +far as I have been able, so far as Thou hast made me able, I have +sought Thee, and have desired to see with my understanding what I +have believed; and I have argued and labored much. O Lord my God, +my only hope, hearken to me, lest through weariness I be unwilling +to seek Thee, but that I may always ardently seek Thy face. Do Thou +give me strength to seek, who hast led me to find Thee, and hast +given the hope of finding Thee more and more. My strength and my +weakness are in Thy sight; preserve my strength and heal my +weakness. My knowledge and my ignorance are in Thy sight; when Thou +hast opened to me, receive me as I enter; when Thou hast closed, +open to me as I knock. May I remember Thee, understand Thee, love +Thee. Increase these things in me, until Thou renew me wholly. But +oh, that I might speak only in preaching Thy word and in praising +Thee. But many are my thoughts, such as Thou knowest, "thoughts of +man, that are vain." Let them not so prevail in me, that anything +in my acts should proceed from them; but at least that my judgment +and my conscience be safe from them under Thy protection. When the +wise man spake of Thee in his book, which is now called by the +special name of Ecclesiasticus, "We speak," he says, "much, and yet +come short; and in sum of words, He is all." When therefore we +shall have come to Thee, these very many things that we speak, and +yet come short, shall cease; and Thou, as One, shalt remain "all in +all." And we shall say one thing without end, in praising Thee as +One, ourselves also made one in Thee. O Lord, the one God, God the +Trinity, whatever I have said in these books that is of Thine, may +they acknowledge who are Thine; if I have said anything of my own, +may it be pardoned both by Thee and by those who are Thine. +Amen.</p> +<blockquote>The three immediately preceding citations, from 'A +Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the +Christian Church, First Series,' are reprinted by permission of the +Christian Literature Company, New York.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>MARCUS AURELIUS <a name="ANTONINUS"></a>ANTONINUS</h2> +<h3>(121-180 A.D.)</h3> +<h3>BY JAMES FRASER GLUCK</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-m.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>arcus Aurelius, one of the most illustrious emperors of Rome, +and, according to Canon Farrar, "the noblest of pagan emperors", +was born at Rome April 20th, A.D. 121, and died at Vindobona--the +modern Vienna--March 17th, A.D. 180, in the twentieth year of his +reign and the fifty-ninth year of his age.</p> +<p>His right to an honored place in literature depends upon a small +volume written in Greek, and usually called 'The Meditations of +Marcus Aurelius.' The work consists of mere memoranda, notes, +disconnected reflections and confessions, and also of excerpts from +the Emperor's favorite authors. It was evidently a mere private +diary or note-book written in great haste, which readily accounts +for its repetitions, its occasional obscurity, and its frequently +elliptical style of expression. In its pages the Emperor gives his +aspirations, and his sorrow for his inability to realize them in +his daily life; he expresses his tentative opinions concerning the +problems of creation, life, and death; his reflections upon the +deceitfulness of riches, pomp, and power, and his conviction of the +vanity of all things except the performance of duty. The work +contains what has been called by a distinguished scholar "the +common creed of wise men, from which all other views may well seem +mere deflections on the side of an unwarranted credulity or of an +exaggerated despair." From the pomp and circumstance of state +surrounding him, from the manifold cares of his exalted rank, from +the tumult of protracted wars, the Emperor retired into the pages +of this book as into the sanctuary of his soul, and there found in +sane and rational reflection the peace that the world could not +give and could never take away. The tone and temper of the work is +unique among books of its class. It is sweet yet dignified, +courageous yet resigned, philosophical and speculative, yet above +all, intensely practical.</p> +<p>Through all the ages from the time when the Emperor Diocletian +prescribed a distinct ritual for Aurelius as one of the gods; from +the time when the monks of the Middle Ages treasured the +'Meditations' as carefully as they kept their manuscripts of the +Gospels, the work has been recognized as the precious life-blood of +a master spirit. An adequate English translation would constitute +to-day a most valuable <i>vade mecum</i> of devotional feeling and +of religious inspiration. It would prove a strong moral tonic to +hundreds of minds now sinking into agnosticism or materialism.</p> +<br> +<a name="image071.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image071.jpg"><img src= +"images/image071.jpg" width="40%" alt=""></a></p> +<br> +<p>The distinguished French writer M. Martha observes that in the +'Meditations of Marcus Aurelius' "we find a pure serenity, +sweetness, and docility to the commands of God, which before him +were unknown, and which Christian grace has alone surpassed. One +cannot read the book without thinking of the sadness of Pascal and +the gentleness of Fénelon. We must pause before this soul, +so lofty and so pure, to contemplate ancient virtue in its softest +brilliancy, to see the moral delicacy to which profane doctrines +have attained."</p> +<p>Those in the past who have found solace in its pages have not +been limited to any one country, creed, or condition in life. The +distinguished Cardinal Francis Barberini the elder occupied his +last years in translating the 'Meditations' into Italian; so that, +as he said, "the thoughts of the pious pagan might quicken the +faith of the faithful." He dedicated the work to his own soul, so +that it "might blush deeper than the scarlet of the cardinal robe +as it looked upon the nobility of the pagan." The venerable and +learned English scholar Thomas Gataker, of the religious faith of +Cromwell and Milton, spent the last years of his life in +translating the work into Latin as the noblest preparation for +death. The book was the constant companion of Captain John Smith, +the discoverer of Virginia, who found in it "sweet refreshment in +his seasons of despondency." Jean Paul Richter speaks of it as a +vital help in "the deepest floods of adversity." The French +translator Pierron says that it exalted his soul into a serene +region, above all petty cares and rivalries. Montesquieu declares, +in speaking of Marcus Aurelius, "He produces such an effect upon +our minds that we think better of ourselves, because he inspires us +with a better opinion of mankind." The great German historian +Niebuhr says of the Emperor, as revealed in this work, "I know of +no other man who combined such unaffected kindness, mildness, and +humility with such conscientiousness and severity toward himself." +Renan declares the book to be "a veritable gospel. It will never +grow old, for it asserts no dogma. Though science were to destroy +God and the soul, the 'Meditations of Marcus Aurelius' would remain +forever young and immortally true." The eminent English critic +Matthew Arnold was found on the morning after the death of his +eldest son engaged in the perusal of his favorite Marcus Aurelius, +wherein alone he found comfort and consolation.</p> +<p>The 'Meditations of Marcus Aurelius' embrace not only moral +reflections; they include, as before remarked, speculations upon +the origin and evolution of the universe and of man. They rest upon +a philosophy. This philosophy is that of the Stoic school as +broadly distinguished from the Epicurean. Stoicism, at all times, +inculcated the supreme virtues of moderation and resignation; the +subjugation of corporeal desires; the faithful performance of duty; +indifference to one's own pain and suffering, and the disregard of +material luxuries. With these principles there was, originally, in +the Stoic philosophy conjoined a considerable body of logic, +cosmogony, and paradox. But in Marcus Aurelius these doctrines no +longer stain the pure current of eternal truth which ever flowed +through the history of Stoicism. It still speculated about the +immortality of the soul and the government of the universe by a +supernatural Intelligence, but on these subjects proposed no dogma +and offered no final authoritative solution. It did not forbid man +to hope for a future life, but it emphasized the duties of the +present life. On purely rational grounds it sought to show men that +they should always live nobly and heroicly, and how best to do so. +It recognized the significance of death, and attempted to teach how +men could meet it under any and all circumstances with perfect +equanimity.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Marcus Aurelius was descended from an illustrious line which +tradition declared extended to the good Numa, the second King of +Rome. In the descendant Marcus were certainly to be found, with a +great increment of many centuries of noble life, all the virtues of +his illustrious ancestor. Doubtless the cruel persecutions of the +infamous Emperors who preceded Hadrian account for the fact that +the ancestors of Aurelius left the imperial city and found safety +in Hispania Baetica, where in a town called Succubo--not far from +the present city of Cordova--the Emperor's great-grandfather, +Annius Verus, was born. From Spain also came the family of the +Emperor Hadrian, who was an intimate friend of Annius Verus. The +death of the father of Marcus Aurelius when the lad was of tender +years led to his adoption by his grandfather and subsequently by +Antoninus Pius. By Antoninus he was subsequently named as joint +heir to the Imperial dignity with Commodus, the son of Aelius +Caesar, who had previously been adopted by Hadrian.</p> +<p>From his earliest youth Marcus was distinguished for his +sincerity and truthfulness. His was a docile and a serious nature. +"Hadrian's bad and sinful habits left him," says Niebuhr, "when he +gazed on the sweetness of that innocent child. Punning on the boy's +paternal name of <i>Verus</i>, he called him <i>Verissimus</i>, +'the <i>most</i> true.'" Among the many statues of Marcus extant is +one representing him at the tender age of eight years offering +sacrifice. He was even then a priest of Mars. It was the hand of +Marcus alone that threw the crown so carefully and skillfully that +it invariably alighted upon the head of the statue of the god. The +entire ritual he knew by heart. The great Emperor Antoninus Pius +lived in the most simple and unostentatious manner; yet even this +did not satisfy the exacting, lofty spirit of Marcus. At twelve +years of age he began to practice all the austerities of Stoicism. +He became a veritable ascetic. He ate most sparingly; slept little, +and when he did so it was upon a bed of boards. Only the repeated +entreaties of his mother induced him to spread a few skins upon his +couch. His health was seriously affected for a time; and it was, +perhaps, to this extreme privation that his subsequent feebleness +was largely due. His education was of the highest order of +excellence. His tutors, like Nero's, were the most distinguished +teachers of the age; but unlike Nero, the lad was in every way +worthy of his instructors. His letters to his dearly beloved +teacher Fronto are still extant, and in a very striking and +charming way they illustrate the extreme simplicity of life in the +imperial household in the villa of Antoninus Pius at Lorium by the +sea. They also indicate the lad's deep devotion to his studies and +the sincerity of his love for his relatives and friends.</p> +<p>When his predecessor and adoptive father Antoninus felt the +approach of death, he gave to the tribune who asked him for the +watchword for the night the reply "Equanimity," directed that the +golden statue of Fortune that always stood in the Emperor's chamber +be transferred to that of Marcus Aurelius, and then turned his face +and passed away as peacefully as if he had fallen asleep. The +watchword of the father became the life-word of the son, who +pronounced upon that father in the 'Meditations' one of the noblest +eulogies ever written. "We should," says Renan, "have known nothing +of Antoninus if Marcus Aurelius had not handed down to us that +exquisite portrait of his adopted father, in which he seems, by +reason of humility, to have applied himself to paint an image +superior to what he himself was. Antoninus resembled a Christ who +would not have had an evangel; Marcus Aurelius a Christ who would +have written his own."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>It would be impossible here to detail even briefly all the +manifold public services rendered by Marcus Aurelius to the Empire +during his reign of twenty years. Among his good works were these: +the establishment, upon eternal foundation, of the noble fabric of +the Civil Law--the prototype and basis of Justinian's task; the +founding of schools for the education of poor children; the +endowment of hospitals and homes for orphans of both sexes; the +creation of trust companies to receive and distribute legacies and +endowments; the just government of the provinces; the complete +reform of the system of collecting taxes; the abolition of the +cruelty of the criminal laws and the mitigation of sentences +unnecessarily severe; the regulation of gladiatorial exhibitions; +the diminution of the absolute power possessed by fathers over +their children and of masters over their slaves; the admission of +women to equal rights to succession to property from their +children; the rigid suppression of spies and informers; and the +adoption of the principle that merit, as distinguished from rank or +political friendship, alone justified promotion in the public +service.</p> +<p>But the greatest reform was the reform in the Imperial Dignity +itself, as exemplified in the life and character of the Emperor. It +is this fact which gives to the 'Meditations' their distinctive +value. The infinite charm, the tenderness and sweetness of their +moral teachings, and their broad humanity, are chiefly noteworthy +because the Emperor himself practiced in his daily life the +principles of which he speaks, and because tenderness and +sweetness, patience and pity, suffused his daily conduct and +permeated his actions. The horrible cruelties of the reigns of Nero +and Domitian seemed only awful dreams under the benignant rule of +Marcus Aurelius.</p> +<p>It is not surprising that the deification of a deceased emperor, +usually regarded by Senate and people as a hollow mockery, became a +veritable fact upon the death of Marcus Aurelius. He was not +regarded in any sense as mortal. All men said he had but returned +to his heavenly place among the immortal gods. As his body passed, +in the pomp of an imperial funeral, to its last resting-place, the +tomb of Hadrian,--the modern Castle of St. Angelo at +Rome,--thousands invoked the divine blessing of Antoninus. His +memory was sacredly cherished. His portrait was preserved as an +inspiration in innumerable homes. His statue was almost universally +given an honored place among the household gods. And all this +continued during successive generations of men.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Marcus Aurelius has been censured for two acts: the first, the +massacre of the Christians which took place during his reign; the +second, the selection of his son Commodus as his successor. Of the +massacre of the Christians it may be said, that when the conditions +surrounding the Emperor are once properly understood, no just cause +for condemnation of his course remains. A prejudice against the +sect was doubtless acquired by him through the teachings of his +dearly beloved instructor and friend Fronto. In the writings of the +revered Epictetus he found severe condemnation of the Christians as +fanatics. Stoicism enjoined upon men obedience to the law, +endurance of evil conditions, and patience under misfortunes. The +Christians openly defied the laws; they struck the images of the +gods, they scoffed at the established religion and its ministers. +They welcomed death; they invited it. To Marcus Aurelius, as he +says in his 'Meditations,' death had no terrors. The wise man +stood, like the trained soldier, ready to be called into action, +ready to depart from life when the Supreme Ruler called him; but it +was also, according to the Stoic, no less the duty of a man to +remain until he was called, and it certainly was not his duty to +invite destruction by abuse of all other religions and by contempt +for the distinctive deities of the Roman faith. The Roman State was +tolerant of all religions so long as they were tolerant of others. +Christianity was intolerant of all other religions; it condemned +them all. In persecuting what he regarded as a "pernicious sect" +the Emperor regarded himself only as the conservator of the peace +and the welfare of the realm. The truth is, that Marcus Aurelius +enacted no new laws on the subject of the Christians. He even +lessened the dangers to which they were exposed. On this subject +one of the Fathers of the Church, Tertullian, bears witness. He +says in his address to the Roman officials:--"Consult your annals, +and you will find that the princes who have been cruel to us are +those whom it was held an honor to have as persecutors. On the +contrary, of all princes who have known human and Divine law, name +one of them who has persecuted the Christians. We might even cite +one of them who declared himself their protector,--the wise Marcus +Aurelius. If he did not openly revoke the edicts against our +brethren, he destroyed the effect of them by the severe penalties +he instituted against their accusers." This statement would seem to +dispose effectually of the charge of cruel persecution brought so +often against the kindly and tender-hearted Emperor.</p> +<p>Of the appointment of Commodus as his successor, it may be said +that the paternal heart hoped against hope for filial excellence. +Marcus Aurelius believed, as clearly appears from many passages in +the 'Meditations,' that men did not do evil willingly but through +ignorance; and that when the exceeding beauty of goodness had been +fully disclosed to them, the depravity of evil conduct would appear +no less clearly. The Emperor who, when the head of his rebellious +general was brought to him, grieved because that general had not +lived to be forgiven; the ruler who burned unread all treasonable +correspondence, would not, nay, could not believe in the existence +of such an inhuman monster as Commodus proved himself to be. The +appointment of Commodus was a calamity of the most terrific +character; but it testifies in trumpet tones to the nobility of the +Emperor's heart, the sincerity of his own belief in the triumph of +right and justice.</p> +<p>The volume of the 'Meditations' is the best mirror of the +Emperor's soul. Therein will be found expressed delicately but +unmistakably much of the sorrow that darkened his life. As the book +proceeds the shadows deepen, and in the latter portion his +loneliness is painfully apparent. Yet he never lost hope or faith, +or failed for one moment in his duty as a man, a philosopher, and +an Emperor. In the deadly marshes and in the great forests which +stretched beside the Danube, in his mortal sickness, in the long +nights when weakness and pain rendered sleep impossible, it is not +difficult to imagine him in his tent, writing, by the light of his +solitary lamp, the immortal thoughts which alone soothed his soul; +thoughts which have out-lived the centuries--not perhaps wholly by +chance--to reveal to men in nations then unborn, on continents +whose very existence was then unknown, the Godlike qualities of one +of the noblest of the sons of men.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The best literal translation of the work into English thus far +made is that of George Long. It is published by Little, Brown & +Co. of Boston. A most admirable work, 'The Life of Marcus +Aurelius,' by Paul Barron Watson, published by Harper & +Brothers, New York, will repay careful reading. Other general works +to be consulted are as follows:--'Seekers After God,' by Rev. F.W. +Farrar, Macmillan & Co. (1890); and 'Classical Essays,' by +F.W.H. Myers, Macmillan & Co. (1888). Both of these contain +excellent articles upon the Emperor. Consult also Renan's 'History +of the Origins of Christianity,' Book vii., Marcus Aurelius, +translation published by Mathieson & Co. (London, 1896); 'Essay +on Marcus Aurelius' by Matthew Arnold, in his 'Essays in +Criticism,' Macmillan & Co. Further information may also be had +in Montesquieu's 'Decadence of the Romans,' Sismondi's 'Fall of the +Roman Empire,' and Gibbon's 'Decline and Fall of the Roman +Empire.'</p> +<p class="sign"><img src="images/sign077.png" width="60%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="ANTONINUS_1"></a> +<h3>EXCERPTS FROM THE 'MEDITATIONS'</h3> +<center>THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN</center> +<br> +<p>Begin thy morning with these thoughts: I shall meet the meddler, +the ingrate, the scorner, the hypocrite, the envious man, the +cynic. These men are such because they know not to discern the +difference between good and evil. But I know that Goodness is +Beauty and that Evil is Loathsomeness: I know that the real nature +of the evil-doer is akin to mine, not only physically but in a +unity of intelligence and in participation in the Divine Nature. +Therefore I know that I cannot be harmed by such persons, nor can +they thrust upon me what is base. I know, too, that I should not be +angry with my kinsmen nor hate them, because we are all made to +work together fitly like the feet, the hands, the eyelids, the rows +of the upper and the lower teeth. To be at strife one with another +is therefore contrary to our real nature; and to be angry with one +another, to despise one another, <i>is</i> to be at strife one with +another. (Book ii,§ I.)</p> +<p>Fashion thyself to the circumstances of thy lot. The men whom +Fate hath made thy comrades here, love; and love them in sincerity +and in truth. (Book vi., § 39.)</p> +<p>This is distinctive of men,--to love those who do wrong. And +this thou shalt do if thou forget not that they are thy kinsmen, +and that they do wrong through ignorance and not through design; +that ere long thou and they will be dead; and more than all, that +the evil-doer hath really done thee no evil, since he hath left thy +conscience unharmed. (Book viii., §22.)</p> +<br> +<center>THE SUPREME NOBILITY OF DUTY</center> +<br> +<p>As A Roman and as a man, strive steadfastly every moment to do +thy duty, with dignity, sincerity, and loving-kindness, freely and +justly, and freed from all disquieting thought concerning any other +thing. And from such thought thou wilt be free if every act be done +as though it were thy last, putting away from thee slothfulness, +all loathing to do what Reason bids thee, all dissimulation, +selfishness, and discontent with thine appointed lot. Behold, then, +how few are the things needful for a life which will flow onward +like a quiet stream, blessed even as the life of the gods. For he +who so lives, fulfills their will. (Book ii., §5.)</p> +<p>So long as thou art doing thy duty, heed not warmth nor cold, +drowsiness nor wakefulness, life, nor impending death; nay, even in +the very act of death, which is indeed only one of the acts of +life, it suffices to do well what then remains to be done. (Book +vi., § 2.)</p> +<p>I strive to do my duty; to all other considerations I am +indifferent, whether they be material things or unreasoning and +ignorant people. (Book vi., §22.)</p> +<br> +<center>THE FUTURE LIFE. IMMORTALITY</center> +<br> +<p>This very moment thou mayest die. Think, act, as if this were +now to befall thee. Yet fear not death. If there are gods they will +do thee no evil. If there are not gods, or if they care not for the +welfare of men, why should I care to live in a Universe that is +devoid of Divine beings or of any providential care? But, verily, +there are Divine beings, and they do concern themselves with the +welfare of men; and they have given unto him all power not to fall +into any real evil. If, indeed, what men call misfortunes were +really evils, then from these things also, man would have been +given the power to free himself. But--thou sayest--are not death, +dishonor, pain, really evils? Reflect that if they were, it is +incredible that the Ruler of the Universe has, through ignorance, +overlooked these things, or has not had the power or the skill to +prevent them; and that thereby what is real evil befalls good and +bad alike. For true it is that life and death, honor and dishonor, +pain and pleasure, come impartially to the good and to the bad. But +none of these things can affect our lives if they do not affect our +true selves. Now our real selves they do not affect either for +better or for worse; and therefore such things are not really good +or evil. (Book ii., §11.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>If our spirits live, how does Space suffice for all during all +the ages? Well, how does the earth contain the bodies of those who +have been buried therein during all the ages? In the latter case, +the decomposition and--after a certain period--the dispersion of +the bodies already buried, affords room for other bodies; so, in +the former case, the souls which pass into Space, after a certain +period are purged of their grosser elements and become ethereal, +and glow with the glory of flame as they meet and mingle with the +Creative Energy of the world. And thereby there is room for other +souls which in their turn pass into Space. This, then, is the +explanation that may be given, if souls continue to exist at +all.</p> +<p>Moreover, in thinking of all the bodies which the earth +contains, we must have in mind not only the bodies which are buried +therein, but also the vast number of animals which are the daily +food of ourselves and also of the entire animal creation itself. +Yet these, too, Space contains; for on the one hand they are +changed into blood which becomes part of the bodies that are buried +in the earth, and on the other hand these are changed into the +ultimate elements of fire or air. (Book iv., §21.)</p> +<p>I am spirit and body: neither will pass into nothingness, since +neither came therefrom; and therefore every part of me, though +changed in form, will continue to be a part of the Universe, and +that part will change into another part, and so on through all the +ages. And therefore, through such changes I myself exist; and, in +like manner, those who preceded me and those who will follow me +will exist forever,--a conclusion equally true though the Universe +itself be dissipated at prescribed cycles of time. (Book v., § +13.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>How can it be that the gods, who have clothed the Universe with +such beauty and ordered all things with such loving-kindness for +the welfare of man, have neglected this alone, that the best +men--the men who walked as it were with the Divine Being, and who, +by their acts of righteousness and by their reverent service, dwelt +ever in his presence--should never live again when once they have +died? If this be really true, then be satisfied that it is best +that it should be so, else it would have been otherwise ordained. +For whatever is right and just is possible; and therefore, if it +were in accord with the will of the Divine Being that we should +live after death--so it would have been. But because it is +otherwise,--if indeed it be otherwise,--rest thou satisfied that +this also is just and right.</p> +<p>Moreover, is it not manifest to thee that in inquiring so +curiously concerning these things, thou art questioning God himself +as to what is right, and that this thou wouldst not do didst thou +not believe in his supreme goodness and wisdom? Therefore, since in +these we believe, we may also believe that in the government of the +Universe nothing that is right and just has been overlooked or +forgotten. (Book xii., § 5.)</p> +<br> +<center>THE UNIVERSAL BEAUTY OF THE WORLD</center> +<br> +<p>To him who hath a true insight into the real nature of the +Universe, every change in everything therein that is a part thereof +seems appropriate and delightful. The bread that is over-baked so +that it cracks and bursts asunder hath not the form desired by the +baker; yet none the less it hath a beauty of its own, and is most +tempting to the palate. Figs bursting in their ripeness, olives +near even unto decay, have yet in their broken ripeness a +distinctive beauty. Shocks of corn bending down in their fullness, +the lion's mane, the wild boar's mouth all flecked with foam, and +many other things of the same kind, though perhaps not pleasing in +and of themselves, yet as necessary parts of the Universe created +by the Divine Being they add to the beauty of the Universe, and +inspire a feeling of pleasure. So that if a man hath appreciation +of and an insight into the purpose of the Universe, there is +scarcely a portion thereof that will not to him in a sense seem +adapted to give delight. In this sense the open jaws of wild beasts +will appear no less pleasing than their prototypes in the realm of +art. Even in old men and women he will be able to perceive a +distinctive maturity and seemliness, while the winsome bloom of +youth he can contemplate with eyes free from lascivious desire. And +in like manner it will be with very many things which to every one +may not seem pleasing, but which will certainly rejoice the man who +is a true student of Nature and her works. (Book iii., § +2.)</p> +<br> +<center>THE GOOD MAN</center> +<br> +<p>In the mind of him who is pure and good will be found neither +corruption nor defilement nor any malignant taint. Unlike the actor +who leaves the stage before his part is played, the life of such a +man is complete whenever death may come. He is neither cowardly nor +presuming; not enslaved to life nor indifferent to its duties; and +in him is found nothing worthy of condemnation nor that which +putteth to shame. (Book iii., § 8.)</p> +<p>Test by a trial how excellent is the life of the good man;--the +man who rejoices at the portion given him in the universal lot and +abides therein, content; just in all his ways and kindly minded +toward all men. (Book iv., § 25.)</p> +<p>This is moral perfection: to live each day as though it were the +last; to be tranquil, sincere, yet not indifferent to one's fate. +(Book vii., § 69.)</p> +<br> +<center>THE BREVITY OF LIFE</center> +<br> +<p>Cast from thee all other things and hold fast to a few precepts +such as these: forget not that every man's real life is but the +present moment,--an indivisible point of time,--and that all the +rest of his life hath either passed away or is uncertain. Short, +then, the time that any man may live; and small the earthly niche +wherein he hath his home; and short is longest fame,--a whisper +passed from race to race of dying men, ignorant concerning +themselves, and much less really knowing thee, who died so long +ago. (Book iii., § 10.)</p> +<br> +<center>VANITY OF LIFE</center> +<br> +<p>Many are the doctors who have knit their brows over their +patients and now are dead themselves; many are the astrologers who +in their day esteemed themselves renowned in foretelling the death +of others, yet now they too are dead. Many are the philosophers who +have held countless discussions upon death and immortality, and yet +themselves have shared the common lot; many the valiant warriors +who have slain their thousands and yet have themselves been slain +by Death; many are the rulers and the kings of the earth, who, in +their arrogance, have exercised over others the power of life or +death as though they were themselves beyond the hazard of Fate, and +yet themselves have, in their turn, felt Death's remorseless power. +Nay, even great cities--Helice, Pompeii, Herculaneum--have, so to +speak, died utterly. Recall, one by one, the names of thy friends +who have died; how many of these, having closed the eyes of their +kinsmen, have in a brief time been buried also. To conclude: keep +ever before thee the brevity and vanity of human life and all that +is therein; for man is conceived to-day, and to-morrow will be a +mummy or ashes. Pass, therefore, this moment of life in accord with +the will of Nature, and depart in peace: even as does the olive, +which in its season, fully ripe, drops to the ground, blessing its +mother, the earth, which bore it, and giving thanks to the tree +which put it forth. (Book iv., § 48.)</p> +<p>A simple yet potent help to enable one to despise Death is to +recall those who, in their greed for life, tarried the longest +here. Wherein had they really more than those who were cut off +untimely in their bloom? Together, at last, somewhere, they all +repose in death. Cadicianus, Fabius, Julianus, Lepidus, or any like +them, who bore forth so many to the tomb, were, in their turn, +borne thither also. Their longer span was but trivial! Think too, +of the cares thereof, of the people with whom it was passed, of the +infirmities of the flesh! All vanity! Think of the infinite deeps +of Time in the past, of the infinite depths to be! And in that vast +profound of Time, what difference is there between a life of three +centuries and the three days' life of a little child! (Book iv., +§ 50.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Think of the Universe of matter!--an atom thou! Think of the +eternity of Time--thy predestined time but a moment! Reflect upon +the great plan of Fate--how trivial this destiny of thine! (Book +v., § 24.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>All things are enveloped in such darkness that they have seemed +utterly incomprehensible to those who have led the philosophic +life--and those too not a few in number, nor of ill-repute. Nay, +even to the Stoics the course of affairs seems an enigma. Indeed, +every conclusion reached seems tentative; for where is the man to +be found who does not change his conclusions? Think too of the +things men most desire,--riches, reputation, and the like,--and +consider how ephemeral they are, how vain! A vile wretch, a common +strumpet, or a thief, may possess them. Then think of the habits +and manners of those about thee--how difficult it is to endure the +least offensive of such people--nay how difficult, most of all, it +is to endure one's self!</p> +<p>Amidst such darkness, then, and such unworthiness, amidst this +eternal change, with all temporal things and even Time itself +passing away, with all things moving in eternal motion, I cannot +imagine what, in all this, is worthy of a man's esteem or serious +effort. (Book v., § 10.)</p> +<br> +<center>DEATH</center> +<br> +<p>To cease from bodily activity, to end all efforts of will and of +thought, to stop all these forever, is no evil. For do but +contemplate thine own life as a child, a growing lad, a youth, an +old man: the change to each of these periods was the death of the +period which preceded it. Why then fear the death of all these--the +death of thyself? Think too of thy life under the care of thy +grandfather, then of thy life under the care of thy mother, then +under the care of thy father, and so on with every change that hath +occurred in thy life, and then ask thyself concerning any change +that hath yet to be, Is there anything to fear? And then shall all +fear, even of the great change,--the change of death +itself,--vanish and flee away. (Book ix., §21.)</p> +<br> +<center>FAME</center> +<br> +<p>Contemplate men as from some lofty height. How innumerable seem +the swarms of men! How infinite their pomps and ceremonies! How +they wander to and fro upon the deep in fair weather and in storm! +How varied their fate in their births, in their lives, in their +deaths! Think of the lives of those who lived long ago, of those +who shall follow thee, of those who now live in uncivilized lands +who have not even heard of thy name, and, of those who have heard +it, how many will soon forget it; of how many there are who now +praise thee who will soon malign thee,--and thence conclude the +vanity of fame, glory, reputation. (Book ix., §30.)</p> +<br> +<center>PRAYER</center> +<br> +<p>The gods are all-powerful or they are not. If they are not, why +pray to them at all? If they are, why dost thou not pray to them to +remove from thee all desire and all fear, rather than to ask from +them the things thou longest for, or the removal of those things of +which thou art in fear? For if the gods can aid men at all, surely +they will grant this request. Wilt thou say that the removal of all +fear and of all desire is within thine own power? If so, is it not +better, then, to use the strength the gods have given, rather than +in a servile and fawning way to long for those things which our +will cannot obtain? And who hath said to thee that the gods will +not <i>strengthen</i> thy will? I say unto thee, begin to pray that +this may come to pass, and thou shalt see what shall befall thee. +One man prays that he may enjoy a certain woman: let thy prayer be +to not have even the desire so to do. Another man prays that he may +not be forced to do his duty: let thy prayer be that thou mayest +not even desire to be relieved of its performance. Another man +prays that he may not lose his beloved son: let thy prayer be that +even the fear of losing him may be taken away. Let these be thy +prayers, and thou shalt see what good will befall thee. (Book ix., +§41.)</p> +<br> +<center>FAITH</center> +<br> +<p>The Universe is either a chaos or a fortuitous aggregation and +dispersion of atoms; or else it is builded in order and harmony and +ruled by Wisdom. If then it is the former, why should one wish to +tarry in a hap-hazard disordered mass? Why should I be concerned +except to know how soon I may cease to be? Why should I be +disquieted concerning what I do, since whatever I may do, the +elements of which I am composed will at last, at last be scattered? +But if the latter thought be true, then I reverence the Divine One; +I trust; I possess my soul in peace. (Book vi., § 10.)</p> +<br> +<center>PAIN</center> +<br> +<p>If pain cannot be borne, we die. If it continue a long time it +becomes endurable; and the mind, retiring into itself, can keep its +own tranquillity and the true self be still unharmed. If the body +feel the pain, let the body make its moan. (Book vii., +§30.)</p> +<br> +<center>LOVE AND FORGIVENESS FOR THE EVIL-DOER</center> +<br> +<p>If it be in thy power, teach men to do better. If not, remember +it is always in thy power to forgive. The gods are so merciful to +those who err, that for some purposes they grant their aid to such +men by conferring upon them health, riches, and honor. What +prevents thee from doing likewise? (Book ix., §11.)</p> +<br> +<center>ETERNAL CHANGE THE LAW OF THE UNIVERSE</center> +<br> +<p>Think, often, of how swiftly all things pass away and are no +more--the works of Nature and the works of man. The substance of +the Universe--matter--is like unto a river that flows on forever. +All things are not only in a constant state of change, but they are +the cause of constant and infinite change in other things. Upon a +narrow ledge thou standest! Behind thee, the bottomless abyss of +the Past! In front of thee, the Future that will swallow up all +things that now are! Over what things, then, in this present life, +wilt thou, O foolish man, be disquieted or exalted--making thyself +wretched; seeing that they can vex thee only for a time--a brief, +brief time! (Book v., §23.)</p> +<br> +<center>THE PERFECT LIBERTY OF THE GOOD MAN</center> +<br> +<p>Peradventure men may curse thee, torture thee, kill thee; yet +can all these things not prevent thee from keeping at all times thy +thoughts pure, considerate, sober, and just. If one should stand +beside a limpid stream and cease not to revile it, would the spring +stop pouring forth its refreshing waters? Nay, if such an one +should even cast into the stream mud and mire, would not the stream +quickly scatter it, and so bear it away that not even a trace would +remain? How then wilt thou be able to have within thee not a mere +well that may fail thee, but a fountain that shall never cease to +flow? By wonting thyself every moment to independence in judgment, +joined together with serenity of thought and simplicity in act and +bearing. (Book viii., §51.)</p> +<br> +<center>THE HARMONY AND UNITY OF THE UNIVERSE</center> +<br> +<p>O divine Spirit of the Universe, Thy will, Thy wish is mine! +Calmly I wait Thy appointed times, which cannot come too early or +too late! Thy providences are all fruitful to me! Thou art the +source, Thou art the stay, Thou art the end of all things. The poet +says of his native city, "Dear city of Cecrops"; and shall I not +say of the Universe, "Beloved City of God"? (Book iv., +§23.)</p> +<p>Either there is a predestined order in the Universe, or else it +is mere aggregation, fortuitous yet not without a certain kind of +order. For how within thyself can a certain system exist and yet +the entire Universe be chaos? And especially when in the Universe +all things, though separate and divided, yet work together in +unity? (Book iv., §27.)</p> +<p>Think always of the Universe as one living organism, composed of +one material substance and one soul. Observe how all things are the +product of a single conception--the conception of a living +organism. Observe how one force is the cause of the motion of all +things: that all existing things are the concurrent causes of all +that is to be--the eternal warp and woof of the ever-weaving web of +existence. (Book iv., §40.)</p> +<br> +<center>THE CONDUCT OF LIFE</center> +<br> +<p>Country houses, retreats in the mountains or by the sea--these +things men seek out for themselves; and often thou, too, dost most +eagerly desire such things. But this does but betoken the greatest +ignorance; for thou art able, when thou desirest, to retreat into +thyself. No otherwhere can a man find a retreat more quiet and free +from care than in his own soul; and most of all, when he hath such +rules of conduct that if faithfully remembered, they will give to +him perfect equanimity,--for equanimity is naught else than a mind +harmoniously disciplined. Cease not then to betake thyself to this +retreat, there to refresh thyself. Let thy rules of conduct be few +and well settled; so that when thou hast thought thereon, +straightway they will suffice to thoroughly purify the soul that +possesses them, and to send thee back, restless no more, to the +things to the which thou must return. With what indeed art thou +disquieted? With the wickedness of men? Meditate on the thought +that men do not do evil of set purpose. Remember also how many in +the past, who, after living in enmity, suspicion, hatred, and +strife one with another, now lie prone in death and are but ashes. +Fret then no more. But perhaps thou art troubled concerning the +portion decreed to thee in the Universe? Remember this alternative: +either there is a Providence or simply matter! Recall all the +proofs that the world is, as it were, a city or a commonwealth! But +perhaps the desires of the body still torment thee? Forget not, +then, that the mind, when conscious of its real self, when +self-reliant, shares not the agitations of the body, be they great +or small. Recall too all thou hast learned (and now holdest as +true) concerning pleasure and pain. But perhaps what men call Fame +allures thee? Behold how quickly all things are forgotten! Before +us, after us, the formless Void of endless ages! How vain is human +praise! How fickle and undiscriminating those who seem to praise! +How limited the sphere of the greatest fame! For the whole earth is +but a point in space, thy dwelling-place a tiny nook therein. How +few are those who dwell therein, and what manner of men are those +who will praise thee!</p> +<p>Therefore, forget not to retire into thine own little country +place,--thyself. Above all, be not diverted from thy course. Be +serene, be free, contemplate all things as a man, as a lover of his +kind, and of his country--yet withal as a being born to die. Have +readiest to thy hand, above all others, these two thoughts: one, +that <i>things</i> cannot touch the soul; the other, that things +are perpetually changing and ceasing to be. Remember how many of +these changes thou thyself hast seen! The Universe is change. But +as thy thoughts are, so thy life shall be. (Book iv., §3.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>All things that befall thee should seem to thee as natural as +roses in spring or fruits in autumn: such things, I mean, as +disease, death, slander, dissimulation, and all other things which +give pleasure or pain to foolish men. (Book iv., §44.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Be thou like a lofty headland. Endlessly against it dash the +waves; yet it stands unshaken, and lulls to rest the fury of the +sea. (Book iv., §49.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"Unhappy me upon whom this misfortune hath fallen!"--nay, rather +thou shouldst say, "Fortunate I, that having met with such a +misfortune, I am able to endure it without complaining; in the +present not dismayed, in the future dreading no evil. Such a +misadventure might have befallen a man who could not, perchance, +have endured it without grievous suffering." Why then shouldst thou +call <i>anything</i> that befalls thee a misfortune, and not the +rather a blessing? Is that a "misfortune," in all cases, which does +not defeat the purpose of man's nature? and does that defeat man's +nature which his <i>Will</i> can accept? And what that <i>Will</i> +can accept, thou knowest. Can this misadventure, then, prevent thy +Will from being just, magnanimous, temperate, circumspect, free +from rashness or error, considerate, independent? Can it prevent +thy Will from being, in short, all that becomes a man? Remember, +then, should anything befall thee which might cause thee to +complain, to fortify thyself with this truth: this is not a +misfortune, while to endure it nobly is a blessing. (Book iv., +§49.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Be not annoyed or dismayed or despondent if thou art not able to +do all things in accord with the rules of right conduct. When thou +hast not succeeded, renew thy efforts, and be serene if, in most +things, thy conduct is such as becomes a man. Love and pursue the +philosophic life. Seek Philosophy, not as thy taskmaster but to +find a medicine for all thy ills, as thou wouldst seek balm for +thine eyes, a bandage for a sprain, a lotion for a fever. So it +shall come to pass that the voice of Reason shall guide thee and +bring to thee rest and peace. Remember, too, that Philosophy +enjoins only such things as are in accord with thy better nature. +The trouble is, that in thy heart thou prefer-rest those things +which are not in accord with thy better nature. For thou sayest, +"What can be more delightful than these things?" But is not the +word "delightful" in this sense misleading? Are not magnanimity, +broad-mindedness, sincerity, equanimity, and a reverent spirit more +"delightful"? Indeed, what is more "delightful" than Wisdom, if so +be thou wilt but reflect upon the strength and contentment of mind +and the happiness of life that spring from the exercise of the +powers of thy reason and thine intelligence? (Book v., +§9.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>As are thy wonted thoughts, so is thy mind; and the soul is +tinged by the coloring of the mind. Let then thy mind be constantly +suffused with such thoughts as these: Where it is possible for a +man to live, there he can live nobly. But suppose he must live in a +palace? Be it so; even there he can live nobly. (Book v., +§16.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Live with the gods! And he so lives who at all times makes it +manifest that he is content with his predestined lot, fulfilling +the entire will of the indwelling spirit given to man by the Divine +Ruler, and which is in truth nothing else than the +Understanding--the Reason of man. (Book v., §27.)</p> +<p>Seek the solitude of thy spirit. This is the law of the +indwelling Reason--to be self-content and to abide in peace when +what is right and just hath been done. (Book vii., § 28.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Let thine eyes follow the stars in their courses as though their +movements were thine own. Meditate on the eternal transformation of +Matter. Such thoughts purge the mind of earthly passion and desire. +(Book vii., § 45.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Search thou thy heart! Therein is the fountain of good! Do thou +but dig, and abundantly the stream shall gush forth. (Book vii., +§ 59.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Be not unmindful of the graces of life. Let thy body be +stalwart, yet not ungainly either in motion or in repose. Let not +thy face alone, but thy whole body, make manifest the alertness of +thy mind. Yet let all this be without affectation. (Book vii., +§ 60.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Thy breath is part of the all-encircling air, and is one with +it. Let thy mind be part, no less, of that Supreme Mind +comprehending all things. For verily, to him who is willing to be +inspired thereby, the Supreme Mind flows through all things and +permeates all things as truly as the air exists for him who will +but breathe. (Book viii., § 54.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Men are created that they may live for each other. Teach them to +be better or bear with them as they are. (Book viii., § +59.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Write no more, Antoninus, about what a good man is or what he +ought to do. <i>Be</i> a good man. (Book x., § 16.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Look steadfastly at any created thing. See! it is changing, +melting into corruption, and ready to be dissolved. In its +essential nature, it was born but to die. (Book x., § 18.)</p> +<p>Co-workers are we all, toward one result. Some, consciously and +of set purpose; others, unwittingly even as men who sleep,--of whom +Heraclitus (I think it is he) says they also are co-workers in the +events of the Universe. In diverse fashion also men work; and +abundantly, too, work the fault-finders and the hinderers,--for +even of such as these the Universe hath need. It rests then with +thee to determine with what workers thou wilt place thyself; for He +who governs all things will without failure place thee at thy +proper task, and will welcome thee to some station among those who +work and act together. (Book vi., §42.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Unconstrained and in supreme joyousness of soul thou mayest live +though all men revile thee as they list, and though wild beasts +rend in pieces the unworthy garment--thy body. For what prevents +thee, in the midst of all this, from keeping thyself in profound +calm, with a true judgment of thy surroundings and a helpful +knowledge of the things that are seen? So that the Judgment may say +to whatever presents itself, "In truth this is what thou really +art, howsoever thou appearest to men;" and thy Knowledge may say to +whatsoever may come beneath its vision, "Thee I sought; for +whatever presents itself to me is fit material for nobility in +personal thought and public conduct; in short, for skill in work +for man or for God." For all things which befall us are related to +God or to man, and are not new to us or hard to work upon, but +familiar and serviceable. (Book vii., §68.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>When thou art annoyed at some one's impudence, straightway ask +thyself, "Is it possible that there should be no impudent men in +the world?" It is impossible. Ask not then the impossible. For such +an one is but one of these impudent persons who needs must be in +the world. Keep before thee like conclusions also concerning the +rascal, the untrustworthy one, and all evil-doers. Then, when it is +quite clear to thy mind that such men must needs exist, thou shalt +be the more forgiving toward each one of their number. This also +will aid thee to observe, whensoever occasion comes, what power for +good, Nature hath given to man to frustrate such viciousness. She +hath bestowed upon man Patience as an antidote to the stupid man, +and against another man some other power for good. Besides, it is +wholly in thine own power to teach new things to the one who hath +erred, for every one who errs hath but missed the appointed path +and wandered away. Reflect, and thou wilt discover that no one of +these with whom thou art annoyed hath done aught to debase thy +<i>mind</i>, and that is the only real evil that can befall +thee.</p> +<p>Moreover, wherein is it wicked or surprising that the ignorant +man should act ignorantly? Is not the error really thine own in not +foreseeing that such an one would do as he did? If thou hadst but +taken thought thou wouldst have known he would be prone to err, and +it is only because thou hast forgotten to use thy Reason that thou +art surprised at his deed. Above all, when thou condemnest another +as untruthful, examine thyself closely; for upon thee rests the +blame, in that thou dost trust to such an one to keep his promise. +If thou didst bestow upon him thy bounty, thine is the blame not to +have given it freely, and without expectation of good to thee, save +the doing of the act itself. What more dost thou wish than to do +good to man? Doth not this suffice,--that thou hast done what +conforms to thy true nature? Must thou then have a reward, as +though the eyes demanded pay for seeing or the feet for walking? +For even as these are formed for such work, and by co-operating in +their distinctive duty come into their own, even so man (by his +real nature disposed to do good), when he hath done some good deed, +or in any other way furthered the Commonweal, acts according to his +own nature, and in so doing hath all that is truly his own. (Book +ix., §42.)</p> +<p>O Man, thou hast been a citizen of this great State, the +Universe! What matters what thy prescribed time hath been, five +years or three? What the law prescribes is just to every one.</p> +<p>Why complain, then, if thou art sent away from the State, not by +a tyrant or an unjust judge, but by Nature who led thee +thither,--even as the manager excuses from the stage an actor whom +he hath employed?</p> +<p>"But I have played three acts only?"</p> +<p>True. But in the drama of thy life three acts conclude the play. +For what its conclusion shall be, He determines who created it and +now ends it; and with either of these thou hast naught to do. +Depart thou, then, well pleased; for He who dismisses thee is well +pleased also. (Book xii., §36.)</p> +<p>Be not disquieted lest, in the days to come, some misadventure +befall thee. The Reason which now sufficeth thee will then be with +thee, should there be the need. (Book vii., §8.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>To the wise man the dictates of Reason seem the instincts of +Nature. (Book vii., §11)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>My true self--the philosophic mind--hath but one dread: the +dread lest I do something unworthy of a man, or that I may act in +an unseemly way or at an improper time. (Book vii., §20.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Accept with joy the Fate that befalls thee. Thine it is and not +another's. What then could be better for thee? (Book vii., +§57)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>See to it that thou art humane to those who are not humane. +(Book vii., §65.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>He who does <i>not</i> act, often commits as great a wrong as he +who acts. (Book ix., §5.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The wrong that another has done--let alone! Add not to it thine +own. (Book ix., §20.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>How powerful is man! He is able to do all that God wishes him to +do. He is able to accept all that God sends upon him. (Book xii., +§11.)</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>A lamp sends forth its light until it is completely +extinguished. Shall Truth and Justice and Equanimity suffer +abatement in thee until all are extinguished in death? (Book xii., +§15.)</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>JANE <a name="AUSTEN"></a>AUSTEN</h2> +<h3>(1775-1817)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>he biography of one of the greatest English novelists might be +written in a dozen lines, so simple, so tranquil, so fortunate was +her life. Jane Austen, the second daughter of an English clergyman, +was born at Steventon, in Hampshire, in 1775. Her father had been +known at Oxford as "the handsome proctor," and all his children +inherited good looks. He was accomplished enough to fit his boys +for the University, and the atmosphere of the household was that of +culture, good breeding, and healthy fun. Mrs. Austen was a clever +woman, full of epigram and humor in conversation, and rather famous +in her own coterie for improvised verses and satirical hits at her +friends. The elder daughter, Cassandra, adored by Jane, who was +three years her junior, seems to have had a rare balance and +common-sense which exercised great influence over the more +brilliant younger sister. Their mother declared that of the two +girls, Cassandra had the merit of having her temper always under +her control; and Jane the happiness of a temper that never required +to be commanded.</p> +<p class="rgt"><img src="images/image094.png" width="40%" alt= +""><br> +<b>JANE AUSTEN</b></p> +<p>From her cradle, Jane Austen was used to hearing agreeable +household talk, and the freest personal criticism on the men and +women who made up her small, secluded world. The family +circumstances were easy, and the family friendliness +unlimited,--conditions determining, perhaps, the cheerful tone, the +unexciting course, the sly fun and good-fellowship of her +stories.</p> +<p>It was in this Steventon rectory, in the family room where the +boys might be building their toy boats, or the parish poor folk +complaining to "passon's madam," or the county ladies paying visits +of ceremony, in monstrous muffs, heelless slippers laced over +open-worked silk stockings, short flounced skirts, and lutestring +pelisses trimmed with "Irish," or where tradesmen might be +explaining their delinquencies, or farmers' wives growing voluble +over foxes and young chickens--it was in the midst of this busy and +noisy publicity, where nobody respected her employment, and where +she was interrupted twenty times in an hour, that the shrewd and +smiling social critic managed, before she was twenty-one, to write +her famous 'Pride and Prejudice.' Here too 'Sense and Sensibility' +was finished in 1797, and 'Northanger Abbey' in 1798. The first of +these, submitted to a London publisher, was declined as +unavailable, by return of post. The second, the gay and mocking +'Northanger Abbey,' was sold to a Bath bookseller for £10, +and several years later bought back again, still unpublished, by +one of Miss Austen's brothers. For the third story she seems not +even to have sought a publisher. These three books, all written +before she was twenty-five, were evidently the employment and +delight of her leisure. The serious business of life was that which +occupied other pretty girls of her time and her social +position,--dressing, dancing, flirting, learning a new stitch at +the embroidery frame, or a new air on "the instrument"; while all +the time she was observing, with those soft hazel eyes of hers, +what honest Nym calls the "humors" of the world about her. In 1801, +the family removed to Bath, then the most fashionable +watering-place in England. The gay life of the brilliant little +city, the etiquette of the Pump Room and the Assemblies, regulated +by the autocratic Beau Nash, the drives, the routs, the card +parties, the toilets, the shops, the Parade, the general frivolity, +pretension, and display of the eighteenth century Vanity Fair, had +already been studied by the good-natured satirist on occasional +visits, and already immortalized in the swiftly changing comedy +scenes of 'Northanger Abbey.' But they tickled her fancy none the +less, now that she lived among them, and she made use of them again +in her later novel, 'Persuasion.'</p> +<p>For a period of eight years, spent in Bath and in Southampton, +Miss Austen wrote nothing save some fragments of 'Lady Susan' and +'The Watsons,' neither of them of great importance. In 1809 the +lessened household, composed of the mother and her two daughters +only, removed to the village of Chawton, on the estate of Mrs. +Austen's third son; and here, in a rustic cottage, now become a +place of pilgrimage, Jane Austen again took up her pen. She rewrote +'Pride and Prejudice.' She revised 'Sense and Sensibility,' and +between February 1811 and August 1816 she completed 'Mansfield +Park,' 'Emma,' and 'Persuasion.' At Chawton, as at Steventon, she +had no study, and her stories were written on a little mahogany +desk near a window in the family sitting-room, where she must often +have been interrupted by the prototypes of her Mrs. Allen, Mrs. +Bennet, Miss Bates, Mr. Collins, or Mrs. Norris. When at last she +began to publish, her stories appeared in rapid succession: 'Sense +and Sensibility' in 1811; 'Pride and Prejudice' early in 1813; +'Mansfield Park' in 1814; 'Emma' in 1816; 'Northanger Abbey' and +'Persuasion' in 1818, the year following her death. In January 1813 +she wrote to her beloved Cassandra:--"I want to tell you that I +have got my own darling child 'Pride and Prejudice' from London. We +fairly set at it and read half the first volume to Miss B. She was +amused, poor soul! ... but she really does seem to admire +Elizabeth. I must confess that <i>I</i> think her as delightful a +creature as ever appeared in print, and how I shall be able to +tolerate those who do not like <i>her</i> at least, I do not know." +A month later she wrote:--"Upon the whole, however, I am quite vain +enough, and well satisfied enough. The work is rather too light, +and bright, and sparkling: it wants shade; it wants to be stretched +out here and there with a long chapter of sense, if it could be +had; if not, of solemn, specious nonsense, about something +unconnected with the story; an essay on writing, a critique on +Walter Scott, or the history of Bonaparte, or something that would +form a contrast, and bring the reader with increased delight to the +playfulness and epigrammatism of the general style!"</p> +<p>Thus she who laughed at everybody else laughed at herself, and +set her critical instinct to estimate her own capacity. To Mr. +Clarke, the librarian of Carlton House, who had requested her to +"delineate a clergyman" of earnestness, enthusiasm, and learning, +she replied:--"I am quite honored by your thinking me capable of +drawing such a clergyman as you gave the sketch of in your note. +But I assure you I am not. The comic part of the character I might +be equal to, but not the good, the enthusiastic, the literary.... I +think I may boast myself to be, with all possible vanity, the most +unlearned and uninformed female who ever dared to be an authoress." +And when the same remarkable bibliophile suggested to her, on the +approach of the marriage of the Princess Charlotte with Prince +Leopold, that "an historical romance, illustrative of the august +House of Coburg, would just now be very interesting," she +answered:--"I am fully sensible that an historical romance, founded +on the House of Saxe-Coburg, might be much more to the purpose of +profit or popularity than such pictures of domestic life in country +villages as I deal in. But I could no more write a romance than an +epic poem. I could not sit seriously down to write a serious +romance under any other motive than to save my life; and if it were +indispensable to keep it up, and never relax into laughing at +myself or at other people, I am sure that I should be hung before I +had finished the first chapter. No! I must keep to my own style, +and go on in my own way: and though I may never succeed again in +that, I am convinced that I shall totally fail in any other." And +again she writes: "What shall <i>I</i> do with your 'strong, manly, +vigorous sketches, full of variety and glow'? How could I possibly +join them on to the little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which +I work with so fine a brush as produces little effect, after much +labor?"</p> +<p>Miss Austen read very little. She "detested quartos." +Richardson, Johnson, Crabbe, and Cowper seem to have been the only +authors for whom she had an appreciation. She would sometimes say, +in jest, that "if ever she married at all, she could fancy being +Mrs. Crabbe!" But her bent of original composition, her amazing +power of observation, her inexhaustible sense of humor, her +absorbing interest in what she saw about her, were so strong that +she needed no reinforcement of culture. It was no more in her power +than it was in Wordsworth's to "gather a posy of other men's +thoughts."</p> +<p>During her lifetime she had not a single literary friend. Other +women novelists possessed their sponsors and devotees. Miss Ferrier +was the delight of a brilliant Edinboro' coterie. Miss Edgeworth +was feasted and flattered, not only in England, but on the +Continent; Miss Burney counted Johnson, Burke, Garrick, Windham, +Sheridan, among the admiring friends who assured her that no flight +in fiction or the drama was beyond her powers. But the creator of +Elizabeth Bennet, of Emma, and of Mr. Collins, never met an author +of eminence, received no encouragement to write except that of her +own family, heard no literary talk, and obtained in her lifetime +but the slightest literary recognition. It was long after her death +that Walter Scott wrote in his journal:--"Read again, and for the +third time at least, Miss Austen's finely written novel of <i>Pride +and Prejudice</i>. That young lady had a talent for describing the +involvements and feelings and characters of ordinary life which is +to me the most wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow strain I +can do myself, like any now going; but the exquisite touch which +renders commonplace things and characters interesting from the +truth of the description and the sentiment is denied to me." It was +still later that Macaulay made his famous estimate of her +genius:--"Shakespeare has neither equal nor second; but among those +who, in the point we have noticed (the delineation of character), +approached nearest the great master, we have no hesitation in +placing Jane Austen as a woman of whom England may justly be proud. +She has given us a multitude of characters, all, in a certain +sense, commonplace, all such as we meet every day. Yet they are all +as perfectly discriminated from each other as if they were the most +eccentric of human beings.... And all this is done by touches so +delicate that they elude analysis, that they defy the powers of +description, and that we know them to exist only by the general +effect to which they have contributed." And a new generation had +almost forgotten her name before the exacting Lewes wrote:--"To +make our meaning precise, we would say that Fielding and Jane +Austen are the greatest novelists in the English language.... We +would rather have written 'Pride and Prejudice' or 'Tom Jones,' +than any of the Waverley novels.... The greatness of Miss Austen +(her marvelous dramatic power) seems more than anything in Scott +akin to Shakespeare."</p> +<p>The six novels which have made so great a reputation for their +author relate the least sensational of histories in the least +sensational way. 'Sense and Sensibility' might be called a novel +with a purpose, that purpose being to portray the dangerous haste +with which sentiment degenerates into sentimentality; and because +of its purpose, the story discloses a less excellent art than its +fellows. 'Pride and Prejudice' finds its motive in the crass pride +of birth and place that characterize the really generous and +high-minded hero, Darcy, and the fierce resentment of his claims to +love and respect on the part of the clever, high-tempered, and +chivalrous heroine, Elizabeth Bennet. 'Northanger Abbey' is a +laughing skit at the school of Mrs. Radcliffe; 'Persuasion,' a +simple story of upper middle-class society, of which the most +charming of her charming girls, Anne Elliot, is the heroine; +'Mansfield Park' a new and fun-loving version of 'Cinderella'; and +finally 'Emma,'--the favorite with most readers, concerning which +Miss Austen said, "I am going to take a heroine whom no one but +myself will much like,"--the history of the blunders of a bright, +kind-hearted, and really clever girl, who contrives as much +discomfort for her friends as stupidity or ill-nature could +devise.</p> +<p>Numberless as are the novelist's characters, no two clergymen, +no two British matrons, no two fussy spinsters, no two men of +fashion, no two heavy fathers, no two smart young ladies, no two +heroines, are alike. And this variety results from the absolute +fidelity of each character to the law of its own development, each +one growing from within and not being simply described from +without. Nor are the circumstances which she permits herself to use +less genuine than her people. What surrounds them is what one must +expect; what happens to them is seen to be inevitable.</p> +<p>The low and quiet key in which her "situations" are pitched +produces one artistic gain which countervails its own loss of +immediate intensity: the least touch of color shows strongly +against that subdued background. A very slight catastrophe among +those orderly scenes of peaceful life has more effect than the +noisier incidents and contrived convulsions of more melodramatic +novels. Thus, in 'Mansfield Park' the result of private +theatricals, including many rehearsals of stage love-making, among +a group of young people who show no very strong principles or +firmness of character, appears in a couple of elopements which +break up a family, occasion a pitiable scandal, and spoil the +career of an able, generous, and highly promising young man. To +most novelists an incident of this sort would seem too ineffective: +in her hands it strikes us as what in fact it is--a tragic +misfortune and the ruin of two lives.</p> +<p>In a word, it is life which Miss Austen sees with unerring +vision and draws with unerring touch; so that above all other +writers of English fiction she seems entitled to the tribute which +an Athenian critic gave to an earlier and more famous +realist,--</p> +<center>"O life! O Menander!<br> +Which of you two is the plagiarist?"</center> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AUSTEN_1"></a> +<h3>AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE</h3> +<center>From 'Pride and Prejudice'</center> +<p>The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made +his declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of +time, as his leave of absence extended only to the following +Saturday, and having no feelings of diffidence to make it +distressing to himself even at the moment, he set about it in a +very orderly manner, with all the observances which he supposed a +regular part of the business. On finding Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, +and one of the younger girls together, soon after breakfast, he +addressed the mother in these words:--</p> +<p>"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter +Elizabeth, when I solicit for the honor of a private audience with +her in the course of this morning?"</p> +<p>Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, +Mrs. Bennet instantly answered: "Oh, dear. Yes; certainly. I am +sure Lizzy will be very happy--I am sure she can have no objection. +Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs." And, gathering her work +together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth called out:--</p> +<p>"Dear ma'am, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must +excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not +hear. I am going away myself."</p> +<p>"No, no; nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you will stay where you are." +And upon Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed +looks, about to escape, she added, "Lizzy, I <i>insist</i> upon +your staying and hearing Mr. Collins."</p> +<p>Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction; and a moment's +consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to +get it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again, +and tried to conceal by incessant employment the feelings which +were divided between distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty +walked off; and as soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began:--</p> +<p>"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far +from doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other +perfections. You would have been less amiable in my eyes had there +<i>not</i> been this little unwillingness; but allow me to assure +you that I have your respected mother's permission for this +address. You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse, however +your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble: my attentions have +been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as soon as I entered the +house I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But +before I am run away with by my feelings on this subject, perhaps +it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying--and +moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of +selecting a wife, as I certainly did."</p> +<p>The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being +run away with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing that +she could not use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop +him further, and he continued:--</p> +<p>"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right +thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to +set the example of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am +convinced it will add very greatly to my happiness; and +thirdly,--which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier,--that it +is the particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady +whom I have the honor of calling patroness. Twice has she +condescended to give me her opinion (unasked, too!) on this +subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I left +Hunsford--between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was +arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool--that she said, 'Mr. Collins, +you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, +choose a gentlewoman, for <i>my</i> sake; and for your <i>own</i>, +let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, +but able to make a small income go a good way. This is my advice. +Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I +will visit her!' Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin, +that I do not reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de +Bourgh as among the least of the advantages in my power to offer. +You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe; and your +wit and vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially +when tempered with the silence and respect which her rank will +inevitably excite. Thus much for my general intention in favor of +matrimony; it remains to be told why my views are directed to +Longbourn instead of my own neighborhood, where, I assure you, +there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as +I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honored father +(who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy +myself without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, +that the loss to them might be as little as possible, when the +melancholy event takes place,--which, however, as I have already +said, may not be for several years. This has been my motive, my +fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in your +esteem. And now, nothing remains for me but to assure you, in the +most animated language, of the violence of my affection. To fortune +I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand of that nature +on your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied +with; and that one thousand pounds in the four per cents., which +will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all that you +may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be +uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous +reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married."</p> +<p>It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.</p> +<p>"You are too hasty, sir," she cried. "You forget that I have +made no answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept +my thanks for the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible +of the honor of your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do +otherwise than decline them."</p> +<p>"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave +of the hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject the +addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he +first applies for their favor; and that sometimes the refusal is +repeated a second, or even a third time. I am therefore by no means +discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you +to the altar ere long."</p> +<p>"Upon my word, sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is rather an +extraordinary one, after my declaration. I do assure you that I am +not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who +are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being +asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You +could not make <i>me</i> happy, and I am convinced that I am the +last woman in the world who would make <i>you</i> so. Nay, were +your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I am persuaded she would +find me in every respect ill qualified for the situation."</p> +<p>"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said Mr. +Collins, very gravely--"but I cannot imagine that her ladyship +would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I +have the honor of seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest +terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable +qualifications."</p> +<p>"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You +must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment +of believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and +by refusing your hand do all in my power to prevent your being +otherwise. In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the +delicacy of your feelings with regard to my family, and may take +possession of Longbourn estate whenever it falls, without any +self-reproach. This matter may be considered, therefore, as finally +settled." And rising as she thus spoke, she would have quitted the +room had not Mr. Collins thus addressed her:--</p> +<p>"When I do myself the honor of speaking to you next on the +subject, I shall hope to receive a more favorable answer than you +have now given me: though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at +present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex +to reject a man on the first application; and perhaps you have even +now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with +the true delicacy of the female character."</p> +<p>"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth, with some warmth, "you +puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to +you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my +refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one."</p> +<p>"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that +your refusal of my addresses is merely a thing of course. My +reasons for believing it are briefly these:--It does not appear to +me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or that the +establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. +My situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, +and my relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my +favor; and you should take it into further consideration that, in +spite of your manifold attractions, it is by no means certain that +another offer of marriage may ever be made you. Your portion is +unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo the effects +of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore +conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall +choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by +suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females."</p> +<p>"I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to +that kind of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable +man. I would rather be paid the compliment of being believed +sincere. I thank you again and again for the honor you have done me +in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My +feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not +consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but +as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart."</p> +<p>"You are uniformly charming!" cried he, with an air of awkward +gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express +authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not +fail of being acceptable."</p> +<p>To such perseverance in willful self-deception Elizabeth would +make no reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, +if he persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering +encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be +uttered in such a manner as must be decisive, and whose behavior at +least could not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an +elegant female.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUSTEN_2"></a> +<h3>MOTHER AND DAUGHTER</h3> +<center>From 'Pride and Prejudice'</center> +<p>[Lydia Bennet has eloped with the worthless rake Wickham, who +has no intention of marrying her.]</p> +<p>Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few +minutes' conversation together, received them exactly as might be +expected: with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against +the villainous conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own +suffering and ill-usage;--blaming everybody but the person to whose +ill-judging indulgence the errors of her daughter must be +principally owing.</p> +<p>"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going to +Brighton with all my family, <i>this</i> would not have happened; +but poor, dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why did the +Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure there was +some great neglect or other on their side, for she is not the kind +of girl to do such a thing, if she had been well looked after. I +always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of her; but +I was overruled, as I always am. Poor, dear child! And now here's +Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham, wherever he +meets him, and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us +all? The Collinses will turn us out, before he is cold in his +grave; and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what +we shall do."</p> +<p>They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. +Gardiner, after general assurances of his affection for her and all +her family, told her that he meant to be in London the very next +day, and would assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavor for recovering +Lydia.</p> +<p>"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he: "though it is +right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on +it as certain. It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In +a few days more, we may gain some news of them; and till we know +that they are not married, and have no design of marrying, do not +let us give the matter over as lost. As soon as I get to town, I +shall go to my brother, and make him come home with me, to +Grace-church-street, and then we may consult together as to what is +to be done."</p> +<p>"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly +what I could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find +them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not married +already, <i>make</i> them marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not +let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shall have as much money +as she chooses to buy them, after they are married. And above all +things, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. Tell him what a dreadful +state I am in--that I am frightened out of my wits; and have such +tremblings, such flutterings, all over me, such spasms in my side, +and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that I can get no +rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Lydia not to give any +directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for she does not +know which are the best warehouses. Oh! brother, how kind you are! +I know you will contrive it all."</p> +<p>But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest +endeavors in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to +her, as well in her hopes as her fears; and after talking with her +in this manner till dinner was on the table, they left her to vent +all her feelings on the housekeeper, who attended, in the absence +of her daughters.</p> +<p>Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no +real occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not +attempt to oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence +enough to hold her tongue before the servants, while they waited at +table, and judged it better that one only of the household, and the +one whom they could most trust, should comprehend all her fears and +solicitude on the subject.</p> +<p>In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who +had been too busily engaged in their separate apartments to make +their appearance before. One came from her books, and the other +from her toilette. The faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; +and no change was visible in either, except that the loss of her +favorite sister, or the anger which she had herself incurred in the +business, had given something more of fretfulness than usual to the +accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she was mistress enough of herself +to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance of grave reflection, +soon after they were seated at table:--</p> +<p>"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much +talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the +wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation."</p> +<p>Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she +added, "Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it +this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is +irretrievable--that one false step involves her in endless +ruin--that her reputation is no less brittle than it is +beautiful--and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behavior +towards the undeserving of the other sex."</p> +<p>Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much +oppressed to make any reply.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUSTEN_3"></a> +<h3>A LETTER OF CONDOLENCE</h3> +<center>From 'Pride and Prejudice'</center> +<p>MR. COLLINS TO MR. BENNET, ON HIS DAUGHTER'S ELOPEMENT WITH A +RAKE</p> +<p><i>My Dear Sir</i>:</p> +<p>I feel myself called upon, by our relationship and my situation +in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now +suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by letter from +Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and +myself sincerely sympathize with you, and all your respectable +family, in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest +kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No +arguments shall be wanting, on my part, that can alleviate so +severe a misfortune; or that may comfort you under a circumstance +that must be of all others most afflicting to a parent's mind. The +death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of +this. And it is the more to be lamented because there is reason to +suppose, as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this licentiousness +of behavior in your daughter has proceeded from a faulty degree of +indulgence; though at the same time, for the consolation of +yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own +disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of +such an enormity at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are +grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined by +Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to +whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending +that this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the +fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself +condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family? +And this consideration leads me, moreover, to reflect with +augmented satisfaction on a certain event of last November; for had +it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your sorrows +and disgrace. Let me advise you, then, my dear sir, to console +yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child from +your affection forever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own +heinous offense.</p> +<p>I am, dear sir, etc., etc.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUSTEN_4"></a> +<h3>A WELL-MATCHED SISTER AND BROTHER</h3> +<center>From 'Northanger Abbey'</center> +<p>"My dearest Catherine, have you settled what to wear on your +head to-night? I am determined, at all events, to be dressed +exactly like you. The men take notice of <i>that</i> sometimes, you +know."</p> +<p>"But it does not signify if they do," said Catherine, very +innocently.</p> +<p>"Signify! oh, heavens! I make it a rule never to mind what they +say. They are very often amazingly impertinent, if you do not treat +them with spirit, and make them keep their distance."</p> +<p>"Are they? Well I never observed <i>that</i>. They always behave +very well to me."</p> +<p>"Oh! they give themselves such airs. They are the most conceited +creatures in the world, and think themselves of so much importance! +By the by, though I have thought of it a hundred times, I have +always forgot to ask you what is your favorite complexion in a man. +Do you like them best dark or fair?"</p> +<p>"I hardly know. I never much thought about it. Something between +both, I think--brown: not fair, and not very dark."</p> +<p>"Very well, Catherine. That is exactly he. I have not forgot +your description of Mr. Tilney: 'a brown skin, with dark eyes, and +rather dark hair.' Well, my taste is different. I prefer light +eyes; and as to complexion, do you know, I like a sallow better +than any other. You must not betray me, if you should ever meet +with one of your acquaintance answering that description."</p> +<p>"Betray you! What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"Nay, do not distress me. I believe I have said too much. Let us +drop the subject."</p> +<p>Catherine, in some amazement, complied; and after remaining a +few moments silent, was on the point of reverting to what +interested her at that time rather more than anything else in the +world, Laurentina's skeleton, when her friend prevented her by +saying, "For Heaven's sake! let us move away from this end of the +room. Do you know, there are two odious young men who have been +staring at me this half-hour. They really put me quite out of +countenance. Let us go and look at the arrivals. They will hardly +follow us there."</p> +<p>Away they walked to the book; and while Isabella examined the +names, it was Catherine's employment to watch the proceedings of +these alarming young men.</p> +<p>"They are not coming this way, are they? I hope they are not so +impertinent as to follow us. Pray let me know if they are coming. I +am determined I will not look up."</p> +<p>In a few moments Catherine, with unaffected pleasure, assured +her that she need not be longer uneasy, as the gentlemen had just +left the Pump-room.</p> +<p>"And which way are they gone?" said Isabella, turning hastily +round. "One was a very good-looking young man."</p> +<p>"They went towards the churchyard."</p> +<p>"Well, I am amazingly glad I have got rid of them! And now what +say you to going to Edgar's Buildings with me, and looking at my +new hat? You said you should like to see it."</p> +<p>Catherine readily agreed. "Only," she added, "perhaps we may +overtake the two young men."</p> +<p>"Oh! never mind that. If we make haste, we shall pass by them +presently, and I am dying to show you my hat."</p> +<p>"But if we only wait a few minutes, there will be no danger of +our seeing them at all."</p> +<p>"I shall not pay them any such compliment, I assure you. I have +no notion of treating men with such respect. <i>That</i> is the way +to spoil them."</p> +<p>Catherine had nothing to oppose against such reasoning; and +therefore, to show the independence of Miss Thorpe, and her +resolution of humbling the sex, they set off immediately, as fast +as they could walk, in pursuit of the two young men.</p> +<p>Half a minute conducted them through the Pump-yard to the +archway, opposite Union Passage; but here they were stopped. +Everybody acquainted with Bath may remember the difficulties of +crossing Cheap Street at this point; it is indeed a street of so +impertinent a nature, so unfortunately connected with the great +London and Oxford roads, and the principal inn of the city, that a +day never passes in which parties of ladies, however important +their business, whether in quest of pastry, millinery, or even (as +in the present case) of young men, are not detained on one side or +other by carriages, horsemen, or carts. This evil had been felt and +lamented, at least three times a day, by Isabella since her +residence in Bath: and she was now fated to feel and lament it once +more; for at the very moment of coming opposite to Union Passage, +and within view of the two gentlemen who were proceeding through +the crowds and treading the gutters of that interesting alley, they +were prevented crossing by the approach of a gig, driven along on +bad pavements by a most knowing-looking coachman, with all the +vehemence that could most fitly endanger the lives of himself, his +companion, and his horse.</p> +<p>"Oh, these odious gigs!" said Isabella, looking up, "how I +detest them!" But this detestation, though so just, was of short +duration, for she looked again, and exclaimed, "Delightful! Mr. +Morland and my brother!"</p> +<p>"Good Heaven! 'tis James!" was uttered at the same moment by +Catherine; and on catching the young men's eyes, the horse was +immediately checked with a violence which almost threw him on his +haunches; and the servant having now scampered up, the gentlemen +jumped out, and the equipage was delivered to his care.</p> +<p>Catherine, by whom this meeting was wholly unexpected, received +her brother with the liveliest pleasure; and he, being of a very +amiable disposition, and sincerely attached to her, gave every +proof on his side of equal satisfaction, which he could have +leisure to do, while the bright eyes of Miss Thorpe were +incessantly challenging his notice; and to her his devoirs were +speedily paid, with a mixture of joy and embarrassment which might +have informed Catherine, had she been more expert in the +development of other people's feelings, and less simply engrossed +by her own, that her brother thought her friend quite as pretty as +she could do herself.</p> +<p>John Thorpe, who in the mean time had been giving orders about +the horse, soon joined them, and from him she directly received the +amends which were her due; for while he slightly and carelessly +touched the hand of Isabella, on her he bestowed a whole scrape and +half a short bow. He was a stout young man, of middling height, +who, with a plain face and ungraceful form, seemed fearful of being +too handsome unless he wore the dress of a groom, and too much like +a gentleman unless he were easy where he ought to be civil, and +impudent where he might be allowed to be easy. He took out his +watch:--"How long do you think we have been running in from +Tetbury, Miss Morland?"</p> +<p>"I do not know the distance." Her brother told her that it was +twenty-three miles.</p> +<p>"<i>Three</i>-and-twenty!" cried Thorpe; "five-and-twenty if it +is an inch." Morland remonstrated, pleaded the authority of +road-books, innkeepers, and milestones: but his friend disregarded +them all; he had a surer test of distance. "I know it must be +five-and-twenty," said he, "by the time we have been doing it." "It +is now half after one; we drove out of the inn-yard at Tetbury as +the town-clock struck eleven; and I defy any man in England to make +my horse go less than ten miles an hour in harness; that makes it +exactly twenty-five."</p> +<p>"You have lost an hour," said Morland: "it was only ten o'clock +when we came from Tetbury."</p> +<p>"Ten o'clock! it was eleven, upon my soul! I counted every +stroke. This brother of yours would persuade me out of my senses, +Miss Morland. Do but look at my horse: did you ever see an animal +so made for speed in your life?" (The servant had just mounted the +carriage and was driving off.) "Such true blood! Three hours and a +half, indeed, coming only three-and-twenty miles! Look at that +creature, and suppose it possible, if you can!"</p> +<p>"He <i>does</i> look very hot, to be sure."</p> +<p>"Hot! he had not turned a hair till we came to Walcot Church: +but look at his forehand; look at his loins; only see how he moves: +that horse <i>cannot</i> go less than ten miles an hour; tie his +legs, and he will get on. What do you think of my gig, Miss +Morland? A neat one, is it not? Well hung; town built: I have not +had it a month. It was built for a Christ Church man, a friend of +mine, a very good sort of fellow; he ran it a few weeks, till, I +believe, it was convenient to have done with it. I happened just +then to be looking out for some light thing of the kind, though I +had pretty well determined on a curricle too; but I chanced to meet +him on Magdalen Bridge, as he was driving into Oxford, last term: +'Ah, Thorpe,' said he, 'do you happen to want such a little thing +as this? It is a capital one of the kind, but I am cursed tired of +it.' 'Oh! d----,' said I, 'I am your man; what do you ask?' And how +much do you think he did, Miss Morland?"</p> +<p>"I am sure I cannot guess at all."</p> +<p>"Curricle-hung, you see; seat, trunk, sword-case, +splashing-board, lamps, silver molding, all, you see, complete; the +ironwork as good as new, or better. He asked fifty guineas: I +closed with him directly, threw down the money, and the carriage +was mine."</p> +<p>"And I am sure," said Catherine, "I know so little of such +things, that I cannot judge whether it was cheap or dear."</p> +<p>"Neither one nor t'other; I might have got it for less, I dare +say; but I hate haggling, and poor Freeman wanted cash."</p> +<p>"That was very good-natured of you," said Catherine, quite +pleased.</p> +<p>"Oh! d---- it, when one has the means of doing a kind thing by a +friend, I hate to be pitiful."</p> +<p>An inquiry now took place into the intended movements of the +young ladies; and on finding whither they were going, it was +decided that the gentlemen should accompany them to Edgar's +Buildings, and pay their respects to Mrs. Thorpe. James and +Isabella led the way; and so well satisfied was the latter with her +lot, so contentedly was she endeavoring to insure a pleasant walk +to him who brought the double recommendation of being her brother's +friend and her friend's brother, so pure and uncoquettish were her +feelings, that though they overtook and passed the two offending +young men in Milsom Street, she was so far from seeking to attract +their notice that she looked back at them only three times.</p> +<p>John Thorpe kept of course with Catherine, and after a few +minutes' silence renewed the conversation about his gig:--"You will +find, however, Miss Morland, it would be reckoned a cheap thing by +some people, for I might have sold it for ten guineas more the next +day; Jackson of Oriel bid me sixty at once; Morland was with me at +the time."</p> +<p>"Yes," said Morland, who overheard this; "bet you forgot that +your horse was included."</p> +<p>"My horse! oh, d---- it! I would not sell my horse for a +hundred. Are you fond of an open carriage, Miss Morland?"</p> +<p>"Yes, very: I have hardly ever an opportunity of being in one; +but I am particularly fond of it."</p> +<p>"I am glad of it: I will drive you out in mine every day."</p> +<p>"Thank you," said Catherine, in some distress, from a doubt of +the propriety of accepting such an offer.</p> +<p>"I will drive you up Lansdown Hill to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Thank you; but will not your horse want rest?"</p> +<p>"Rest! he has only come three-and-twenty miles to-day; all +nonsense: nothing ruins horses so much as rest; nothing knocks them +up so soon. No, no: I shall exercise mine at the average of four +hours every day while I am here."</p> +<p>"Shall you, indeed!" said Catherine, very seriously: "that will +be forty miles a day."</p> +<p>"Forty! ay, fifty, for what I care. Well, I will drive you up +Lansdown to-morrow; mind, I am engaged."</p> +<p>"How delightful that will be!" cried Isabella, turning round; +"my dearest Catherine, I quite envy you; but I am afraid, brother, +you will not have room for a third."</p> +<p>"A third, indeed! no, no; I did not come to Bath to drive my +sisters about: that would be a good joke, faith! Morland must take +care of you."</p> +<p>This brought on a dialogue of civilities between the other two; +but Catherine heard neither the particulars nor the result. Her +companion's discourse now sunk from its hitherto animated pitch to +nothing more than a short, decisive sentence of praise or +condemnation on the face of every women they met; and Catherine, +after listening and agreeing as long as she could, with all the +civility and deference of the youthful female mind, fearful of +hazarding an opinion of its own in opposition to that of a +self-assured man, especially where the beauty of her own sex is +concerned, ventured at length to vary the subject by a question +which had been long uppermost in her thoughts. It was, "Have you +ever read 'Udolpho,' Mr. Thorpe?"</p> +<p>"'Udolpho'! O Lord! not I: I never read novels; I have something +else to do."</p> +<p>Catherine, humbled and ashamed, was going to apologize for her +question; but he prevented her by saying, "Novels are all so full +of nonsense and stuff! there has not been a tolerable decent one +come out since 'Tom Jones,' except the 'Monk'; I read that t'other +day: but as for all the others, they are the stupidest things in +creation."</p> +<p>"I think you must like 'Udolpho,' if you were to read it: it is +so very interesting."</p> +<p>"Not I, faith! No, if I read any, it shall be Mrs. Radcliffe's; +her novels are amusing enough: they are worth reading; some fun and +nature in <i>them</i>.</p> +<p>"'Udolpho' was written by Mrs. Radcliffe," said Catherine, with +some hesitation, from the fear of mortifying him.</p> +<p>"No, sure; was it? Ay, I remember, so it was; I was thinking of +that other stupid book, written by that woman they made such a fuss +about; she who married the French emigrant."</p> +<p>"I suppose you mean 'Camilla'?"</p> +<p>"Yes, that's the book: such unnatural stuff! An old man playing +at see-saw: I took up the first volume once, and looked it over, +but I soon found it would not do; indeed, I guessed what sort of +stuff it must be before I saw it; as soon as I heard she had +married an emigrant, I was sure I should never be able to get +through it."</p> +<p>"I have never read it."</p> +<p>"You have no loss, I assure you; it is the horridest nonsense +you can imagine: there is nothing in the world in it but an old +man's playing at see-saw and learning Latin; upon my soul, there is +not."</p> +<p>This critique, the justness of which was unfortunately lost on +poor Catherine, brought them to the door of Mrs. Thorpe's lodgings, +and the feelings of the discerning and unprejudiced reader of +'Camilla' gave way to the feelings of the dutiful and affectionate +son, as they met Mrs. Thorpe, who had descried them from above, in +the passage. "Ah, mother, how do you do?" said he, giving her a +hearty shake of the hand; "where did you get that quiz of a hat? it +makes you look like an old witch. Here is Morland and I come to +stay a few days with you; so you must look out for a couple of good +beds somewhere near." And this address seemed to satisfy all the +fondest wishes of the mother's heart, for she received him with the +most delighted and exulting affection. On his two younger sisters +he then bestowed an equal portion of his fraternal tenderness, for +he asked each of them how they did, and observed that they both +looked very ugly.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUSTEN_5"></a> +<h3>FAMILY DOCTORS</h3> +<center>From 'Emma'</center> +<p>While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse was +enjoying a full flow of happy regrets and tearful affection with +his daughter.</p> +<p>"My poor, dear Isabella," said he, fondly taking her hand, and +interrupting for a few moments her busy labors for some one of her +five children, "how long it is, how terribly long since you were +here! And how tired you must be after your journey! You must go to +bed early, my dear,--and I recommend a little gruel to you before +you go. You and I will have a nice basin of gruel together. My dear +Emma, suppose we all have a little gruel."</p> +<p>Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did that +both the Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as +herself, and two basins only were ordered. After a little more +discourse in praise of gruel, with some wondering at its not being +taken every evening by everybody, he proceeded to say, with an air +of grave reflection:--</p> +<p>"It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn +at South End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of +the sea air."</p> +<p>"Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir, or we +should not have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but +particularly for the weakness in little Bella's throat,--both sea +air and bathing."</p> +<p>"Ah, my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her +any good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, +though perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very +rarely of use to anybody. I am sure it almost killed me once."</p> +<p>"Come, come," cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, +"I must beg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and +miserable; I who have never seen it! South End is prohibited, if +you please. My dear Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry +after Mr. Perry yet; and he never forgets you."</p> +<p>"Oh, good Mr. Perry, how is he, sir?"</p> +<p>"Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, +and he has not time to take care of himself; he tells me he has not +time to take care of himself--which is very sad--but he is always +wanted all round the country. I suppose there is not a man in such +practice anywhere. But then, there is not so clever a man +anywhere."</p> +<p>"And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? Do the children +grow? I have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be +calling soon. He will be so pleased to see my little ones."</p> +<p>"I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two +to ask him about myself of some consequence. And, my dear, whenever +he comes, you had better let him look at little Bella's +throat."</p> +<p>"Oh, my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have +hardly any uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the +greatest service to her, or else it is to be attributed to an +excellent embrocation of Mr. Wingfield's, which we have been +applying at times ever since August."</p> +<p>"It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been +of use to her; and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, +I would have spoken to--"</p> +<p>"You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. and Miss Bates," said +Emma: "I have not heard one inquiry after them."</p> +<p>"Oh, the good Bateses--I am quite ashamed of myself; but you +mention them in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. +Good old Mrs. Bates. I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my +children. They are always so pleased to see my children. And that +excellent Miss Bates!--such thorough worthy people! How are they, +sir?"</p> +<p>"Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole. But poor Mrs. Bates +had a bad cold about a month ago."</p> +<p>"How sorry I am! but colds were never so prevalent as they have +been this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he had never known +them more general or heavy, except when it has been quite an +influenza."</p> +<p>"That has been a good deal the case, my dear, but not to the +degree you mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, +but not so heavy as he has very often known them in November. Perry +does not call it altogether a sickly season."</p> +<p>"No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it <i>very</i> +sickly, except--"</p> +<p>"Ah, my poor, dear child, the truth is, that in London it is +always a sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. +It is a dreadful thing to have you forced to live there;--so far +off!--and the air so bad!"</p> +<p>"No, indeed, <i>we</i> are not at all in a bad air. Our part of +London is so very superior to most others. You must not confound us +with London in general, my dear sir. The neighborhood of Brunswick +Square is very different from almost all the rest. We are so very +airy! I should be unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of +the town; there is hardly any other that I could be satisfied to +have my children in: but <i>we</i> are so remarkably airy! Mr. +Wingfield thinks the vicinity of Brunswick Square decidedly the +most favorable as to air."</p> +<p>"Ah, my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of +it--but after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you +different creatures; you do not look like the same. Now, I cannot +say that I think you are any of you looking well at present."</p> +<p>"I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting +those little nervous headaches and palpitations which I am never +entirely free from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the +children were rather pale before they went to bed, it was only +because they were a little more tired than usual from their journey +and the happiness of coming. I hope you will think better of their +looks to-morrow; for I assure you Mr. Wingfield told me that he did +not believe he had ever sent us off, altogether, in such good case. +I trust at least that you do not think Mr. Knightley looking ill," +turning her eyes with affectionate anxiety toward her husband.</p> +<p>"Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr. John +Knightley very far from looking well."</p> +<p>"What is the matter, sir? Did you speak to me?" cried Mr. John +Knightley, hearing his own name.</p> +<p>"I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you +looking well; but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued. I +could have wished, however, as you know, that you had seen Mr. +Wingfield before you left home."</p> +<p>"My dear Isabella," exclaimed he hastily, "pray do not concern +yourself about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling +yourself and the children, and let me look as I choose."</p> +<p>"I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your +brother," cried Emma, "about your friend Mr. Graham's intending to +have a bailiff from Scotland to look after his new estate. But will +it answer? Will not the old prejudice be too strong?"</p> +<p>And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when +forced to give her attention again to her father and sister, she +had nothing worse to hear than Isabella's kind inquiry after Jane +Fairfax; and Jane Fairfax, though no great favorite with her in +general, she was at that moment very happy to assist in +praising.</p> +<p>"That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!" said Mrs. John Knightley. +"It is so long since I have seen her, except now and then for a +moment accidentally in town. What happiness it must be to her good +old grandmother and excellent aunt when she comes to visit them! I +always regret excessively, on dear Emma's account, that she cannot +be more at Highbury; but now their daughter is married I suppose +Colonel and Mrs. Campbell will not be able to part with her at all. +She would be such a delightful companion for Emma."</p> +<p>Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added:--</p> +<p>"Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another +pretty kind of young person. You will like Harriet. Emma could not +have a better companion than Harriet."</p> +<p>"I am most happy to hear it; but only Jane Fairfax one knows to +be so very accomplished and superior, and exactly Emma's age."</p> +<p>This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of +similar moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the +evening did not close without a little return of agitation. The +gruel came and supplied a great deal to be said--much praise and +many comments--undoubting decision of its wholesomeness for every +constitution, and pretty severe philippies upon the many houses +where it was never met with tolerably; but unfortunately, among the +failures which the daughter had to instance, the most recent and +therefore most prominent was in her own cook at South End, a young +woman hired for the time, who never had been able to understand +what she meant by a basin of nice smooth gruel, thin, but not too +thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered it, she had never +been able to get anything tolerable. Here was a dangerous +opening.</p> +<p>"Ah," said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head, and fixing his eyes +on her with tender concern. The ejaculation in Emma's ear +expressed, "Ah, there is no end of the sad consequences of your +going to South End. It does not bear talking of." And for a little +while she hoped he would not talk of it, and that a silent +rumination might suffice to restore him to the relish of his own +smooth gruel. After an interval of some minutes, however, he began +with--</p> +<p>"I shall always be very sorry that you went to the sea this +autumn, instead of coming here."</p> +<p>"But why should you be sorry, sir? I assure you it did the +children a great deal of good."</p> +<p>"And moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not have +been to South End. South End is an unhealthy place. Perry was +surprised to hear you had fixed upon South End."</p> +<p>"I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is +quite a mistake, sir. We all had our health perfectly well there, +never found the least inconvenience from the mud, and Mr. Wingfield +says it is entirely a mistake to suppose the place unhealthy; and I +am sure he may be depended on, for he thoroughly understands the +nature of the air, and his own brother and family have been there +repeatedly."</p> +<p>"You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere. +Perry was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of +all the sea-bathing places. A fine open sea, he says, and very pure +air. And by what I understand, you might have had lodgings there +quite away from the sea--a quarter of a mile off--very comfortable. +You should have consulted Perry."</p> +<p>"But my dear sir, the difference of the journey: only consider +how great it would have been. A hundred miles, perhaps, instead of +forty."</p> +<p>"Ah, my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing +else should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not +much to choose between forty miles and a hundred. Better not move +at all, better stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to +get into a worse air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to +him a very ill-judged measure."</p> +<p>Emma's attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he +had reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her +brother-in-law's breaking out.</p> +<p>"Mr. Perry," said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, +"would do as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why +does he make it any business of his to wonder at what I do at my +taking my family to one part of the coast or another? I may be +allowed, I hope, the use of my judgment as well as Mr. Perry. I +want his directions no more than his drugs." He paused, and growing +cooler in a moment, added, with only sarcastic dryness, "If Mr. +Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and five children a distance +of a hundred and thirty miles with no greater expense or +inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as willing to +prefer Cromer to South End as he could himself."</p> +<p>"True, true," cried Mr. Knightley, with most ready +interposition, "very true. That's a consideration, indeed. But, +John, as to what I was telling you of my idea of moving the path to +Langham, of turning it more to the right that it may not cut +through the home meadows, I cannot conceive any difficulty. I +should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of inconvenience +to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly the present +light of the path--The only way of proving it, however, will be to +turn to our maps. I shall see you at the Abbey to-morrow morning, I +hope, and then we will look them over, and you shall give me your +opinion."</p> +<p>Mr. Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on +his friend Perry, to whom he had in fact, though unconsciously, +been attributing many of his own feelings and expressions; but the +soothing attentions of his daughters gradually removed the present +evil, and the immediate alertness of one brother, and better +recollections of the other, prevented any renewal of it.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUSTEN_6"></a> +<h3>FAMILY TRAINING</h3> +<center>From 'Mansfield Park'</center> +<p>As her [Fanny Price's] appearance and spirits improved, Sir +Thomas and Mrs. Norris thought with greater satisfaction of their +benevolent plan; and it was pretty soon decided between them, that +though far from clever, she showed a tractable disposition, and +seemed likely to give them little trouble. A mean opinion of her +abilities was not confined to <i>them</i>. Fanny could read, work, +and write, but she had been taught nothing more; and as her cousins +found her ignorant of many things with which they had been long +familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, and for the first +two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of +it into the drawing-room.</p> +<p>"Dear mamma, only think, my cousin cannot put the map of Europe +together"--or "my cousin cannot tell the principal rivers in +Russia"--or "she never heard of Asia Minor"--or "she does not know +the difference between water-colors and crayons! How strange! Did +you ever hear anything so stupid?"</p> +<p>"My dear," their aunt would reply, "it is very bad, but you must +not expect everybody to be as quick at learning as yourself."</p> +<p>"But, aunt, she is really so very ignorant! Do you know, we +asked her last night which way she would go to get to Ireland; and +she said she should cross to the Isle of Wight. She thinks of +nothing but the Isle of Wight, and she calls it <i>the Island</i>, +as if there were no other island in the world. I am sure I should +have been ashamed of myself, if I had not known better long before +I was so old as she is. I cannot remember the time when I did not +know a great deal that she has not the least notion of yet. How +long ago it is, aunt, since we used to repeat the chronological +order of the kings of England, with the dates of their accession, +and most of the principal events of their reigns!"</p> +<p>"Yes," added the other; "and of the Roman emperors as low as +Severus; besides a great deal of the heathen mythology, and all the +metals, semi-metals, planets, and distinguished philosophers."</p> +<p>"Very true, indeed, my dears, but you are blessed with wonderful +memories, and your poor cousin has probably none at all. There is a +vast deal of difference in memories, as well as in everything else; +and therefore you must make allowance for your cousin, and pity her +deficiency. And remember that if you are ever so forward and clever +yourselves, you should always be modest, for, much as you know +already, there is a great deal more for you to learn."</p> +<p>"Yes, I know there is, till I am seventeen. But I must tell you +another thing of Fanny, so odd and so stupid. Do you know, she says +she does not want to learn either music or drawing?"</p> +<p>"To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid indeed, and shows a +great want of genius and emulation. But, all things considered, I +do not know whether it is not as well that it should be so: for +though you know (owing to me) your papa and mamma are so good as to +bring her up with you, it is not at all necessary that she should +be as accomplished as you are; on the contrary, it is much more +desirable that there should be a difference."</p> +<p>Such were the counsels by which Mrs. Norris assisted to form her +nieces' minds; and it is not very wonderful that, with all their +promising talents and early information, they should be entirely +deficient in the less common acquirements of self-knowledge, +generosity, and humility. In everything but disposition, they were +admirably taught. Sir Thomas did not know what was wanting, +because, though a truly anxious father, he was not outwardly +affectionate, and the reserve of his manner repressed all the flow +of their spirits before him.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUSTEN_7"></a> +<h3>PRIVATE THEATRICALS</h3> +<center>From 'Mansfield Park'</center> +<p>Fanny looked on and listened, not unamused to observe the +selfishness which, more or less disguised, seemed to govern them +all, and wondering how it would end.</p> +<p>Three of the characters were now cast, besides Mr. Rushworth, +who was always answered for by Maria as willing to do anything; +when Julia, meaning, like her sister, to be Agatha, began to be +scrupulous on Miss Crawford's account.</p> +<p>"This is not behaving well by the absent," said she. "Here are +not women enough. Amelia and Agatha may do for Maria and me, but +here is nothing for your sister, Mr. Crawford."</p> +<p>Mr. Crawford desired <i>that</i> might not be thought of; he was +very sure his sister had no wish of acting but as she might be +useful, and that she would not allow herself to be considered in +the present case. But this was immediately opposed by Tom Bertram, +who asserted the part of Amelia to be in every respect the property +of Miss Crawford, if she would accept it. "It falls as naturally as +necessarily to her," said he, "as Agatha does to one or other of my +sisters. It can be no sacrifice on their side, for it is highly +comic."</p> +<p>A short silence followed. Each sister looked anxious; for each +felt the best claim to Agatha, and was hoping to have it pressed on +her by the rest. Henry Crawford, who meanwhile had taken up the +play, and with seeming carelessness was turning over the first act, +soon settled the business.</p> +<p>"I must entreat Miss <i>Julia</i> Bertram," said he, "not to +engage in the part of Agatha, or it will be the ruin of all my +solemnity. You must not, indeed you must not [turning to her]. I +could not stand your countenance dressed up in woe and paleness. +The many laughs we have had together would infallibly come across +me, and Frederick and his knapsack would be obliged to run +away."</p> +<p>Pleasantly, courteously, it was spoken; but the manner was lost +in the matter to Julia's feelings. She saw a glance at Maria, which +confirmed the injury to herself: it was a scheme, a trick; she was +slighted, Maria was preferred; the smile of triumph which Maria was +trying to suppress showed how well it was understood: and before +Julia could command herself enough to speak, her brother gave his +weight against her too, by saying, "Oh yes! Maria must be Agatha. +Maria will be the best Agatha. Though Julia fancies she prefers +tragedy, I would not trust her in it. There is nothing of tragedy +about her. She has not the look of it. Her features are not tragic +features, and she walks too quick, and speaks too quick, and would +not keep her countenance. She had better do the old +countrywoman--the Cottager's wife; you had, indeed, Julia. +Cottager's wife is a very pretty part, I assure you. The old lady +relieves the high-flown benevolence of her husband with a good deal +of spirit. You shall be the Cottager's wife."</p> +<p>"Cottager's wife!" cried Mr. Yates. "What are you talking of? +The most trivial, paltry, insignificant part; the merest +commonplace; not a tolerable speech in the whole. Your sister do +that! It is an insult to propose it. At Ecclesford the governess +was to have done it. We all agreed that it could not be offered to +anybody else. A little more justice, Mr. Manager, if you please. +You do not deserve the office if you cannot appreciate the talents +of your company a little better."</p> +<p>"Why, as to <i>that</i>, my good friends, till I and my company +have really acted, there must be some guesswork; but I mean no +disparagement to Julia. We cannot have two Agathas, and we must +have one Cottager's wife; and I am sure I set her the example of +moderation myself in being satisfied with the old Butler. If the +part is trifling she will have more credit in making something of +it: and if she is so desperately bent against everything humorous, +let her take Cottager's speeches instead of Cottager's wife's, and +so change the parts all through; <i>he</i> is solemn and pathetic +enough, I am sure. It could make no difference in the play; and as +for Cottager himself, when he has got his wife's speeches, <i>I</i> +would undertake him with all my heart."</p> +<p>"With all your partiality for Cottager's wife," said Henry +Crawford, "it will be impossible to make anything of it fit for +your sister, and we must not suffer her good nature to be imposed +on. We must not <i>allow</i> her to accept the part. She must not +be left to her own complaisance. Her talents will be wanted in +Amelia. Amelia is a character more difficult to be well represented +than even Agatha. I consider Amelia as the most difficult character +in the whole piece. It requires great powers, great nicety, to give +her playfulness and simplicity without extravagance. I have seen +good actresses fail in the part. Simplicity, indeed, is beyond the +reach of almost every actress by profession. It requires a delicacy +of feeling which they have not. It requires a gentlewoman--a Julia +Bertram. You <i>will</i> undertake it, I hope?" turning to her with +a look of anxious entreaty, which softened her a little; but while +she hesitated what to say, her brother again interposed with Miss +Crawford's better claim.</p> +<p>"No, no, Julia must not be Amelia. It is not at all the part for +her. She would not like it. She would not do well. She is too tall +and robust. Amelia should be a small, light, girlish, skipping +figure. It is fit for Miss Crawford, and Miss Crawford only. She +looks the part, and I am persuaded will do it admirably."</p> +<p>Without attending to this, Henry Crawford continued his +supplication. "You must oblige us," said he, "indeed you must. When +you have studied the character I am sure you will feel it suits +you. Tragedy may be your choice, but it will certainly appear that +comedy chooses <i>you</i>. You will have to visit me in prison with +a basket of provisions; you will not refuse to visit me in prison? +I think I see you coming in with your basket."</p> +<p>The influence of his voice was felt. Julia wavered; but was he +only trying to soothe and pacify her, and make her overlook the +previous affront? She distrusted him. The slight had been most +determined. He was, perhaps, but at treacherous play with her. She +looked suspiciously at her sister; Maria's countenance was to +decide it; if she were vexed and alarmed--but Maria looked all +serenity and satisfaction, and Julia well knew that on this ground +Maria could not be happy but at her expense. With hasty +indignation, therefore, and a tremulous voice, she said to him, +"You do not seem afraid of not keeping your countenance when I come +in with a basket of provisions--though one might have supposed--but +it is only as Agatha that I was to be so overpowering!" She +stopped, Henry Crawford looked rather foolish, and as if he did not +know what to say. Tom Bertram began again:--</p> +<p>"Miss Crawford must be Amelia. She will be an excellent +Amelia."</p> +<p>"Do not be afraid of <i>my</i> wanting the character," cried +Julia, with angry quickness: "I am <i>not</i> to be Agatha, and I +am sure I will do nothing else; and as to Amelia, it is of all +parts in the world the most disgusting to me. I quite detest her. +An odious little, pert, unnatural, impudent girl. I have always +protested against comedy, and this is comedy in its worst form." +And so saying, she walked hastily out of the room, leaving awkward +feelings to more than one, but exciting small compassion in any +except Fanny, who had been a quiet auditor of the whole, and who +could not think of her as under the agitations of <i>jealousy</i> +without great pity....</p> +<p>The inattention of the two brothers and the aunt to Julia's +discomposure, and their blindness to its true cause, must be +imputed to the fullness of their own minds. They were totally +preoccupied. Tom was engrossed by the concerns of his theatre, and +saw nothing that did not immediately relate to it. Edmund, between +his theatrical and his real part--between Miss Crawford's claims +and his own conduct--between love and consistency, was equally +unobservant: and Mrs. Norris was too busy in contriving and +directing the general little matters of the company, superintending +their various dresses with economical expedients, for which nobody +thanked her, and saving, with delighted integrity, half-a-crown +here and there to the absent Sir Thomas, to have leisure for +watching the behavior, or guarding the happiness, of his +daughters.</p> +<br> +<a name="AUSTEN_8"></a> +<h3>FRUITLESS REGRETS AND APPLES OF SODOM</h3> +<center>From 'Mansfield Park'</center> +<p>These were the circumstances and the hopes which gradually +brought their alleviation to Sir Thomas, deadening his sense of +what was lost, and in part reconciling him to himself; though the +anguish arising from the conviction of his own errors in the +education of his daughters was never to be entirely done away.</p> +<p>Too late he became aware how unfavorable to the character of any +young people must be the totally opposite treatment which Maria and +Julia had been always experiencing at home, where the excessive +indulgence and flattery of their aunt had been continually +contrasted with his own severity. He saw how ill he had judged, in +expecting to counteract what was wrong in Mrs. Norris by its +reverse in himself, clearly saw that he had but increased the evil, +by teaching them to repress their spirits in his presence so as to +make their real disposition unknown to him, and sending them for +all their indulgences to a person who had been able to attach them +only by the blindness of her affection and the excess of her +praise.</p> +<p>Here had been grievous mismanagement; but, bad as it was, he +gradually grew to feel that it had not been the most direful +mistake in his plan of education. Something must have been wanting +<i>within</i>, or time would have worn away much of its ill effect. +He feared that principle, active principle, had been wanting; that +they had never been properly taught to govern their inclinations +and tempers, by that sense of duty which can alone suffice. They +had been instructed theoretically in their religion, but never +required to bring it into daily practice. To be distinguished for +elegance and accomplishments--the authorized object of their +youth--could have had no useful influence that way, no moral effect +on the mind. He had meant them to be good, but his cares had been +directed to the understanding and manners, not the disposition; and +of the necessity of self-denial and humility, he feared they had +never heard from any lips that could profit them.</p> +<p>Bitterly did he deplore a deficiency which now he could scarcely +comprehend to have been possible. Wretchedly did he feel, that with +all the cost and care of an anxious and expensive education, he had +brought up his daughters without their understanding their first +duties, or his being acquainted with their character and +temper.</p> +<p>The high spirit and strong passions of Mrs. Rushworth especially +were made known to him only in their sad result. She was not to be +prevailed on to leave Mr. Crawford. She hoped to marry him, and +they continued together till she was obliged to be convinced that +such hope was vain, and till the disappointment and wretchedness +arising from the conviction rendered her temper so bad, and her +feelings for him so like hatred, as to make them for a while each +other's punishment, and then induce a voluntary separation.</p> +<p>She had lived with him to be reproached as the ruin of all his +happiness in Fanny, and carried away no better consolation in +leaving him, than that she <i>had</i> divided them. What can exceed +the misery of such a mind in such a situation!</p> +<p>Mr. Rushworth had no difficulty in procuring a divorce; and so +ended a marriage contracted under such circumstances as to make any +better end the effect of good luck, not to be reckoned on. She had +despised him, and loved another--and he had been very much aware +that it was so. The indignities of stupidity, and the +disappointments of selfish passion, can excite little pity. His +punishment followed his conduct, as did a deeper punishment the +deeper guilt of his wife. <i>He</i> was released from the +engagement, to be mortified and unhappy till some other pretty girl +could attract him into matrimony again, and he might set forward on +a second, and it is to be hoped more prosperous trial of the +state--if duped, to be duped at least with good humor and good +luck; while <i>she</i> must withdraw with infinitely stronger +feelings, to a retirement and reproach which could allow no second +spring of hope or character.</p> +<p>Where she could be placed, became a subject of most melancholy +and momentous consultation. Mrs. Norris, whose attachment seemed to +augment with the demerits of her niece, would have had her received +at home and countenanced by them all. Sir Thomas would not hear of +it; and Mrs. Norris's anger against Fanny was so much the greater, +from considering <i>her</i> residence there as the motive. She +persisted in placing his scruples to <i>her</i> account, though Sir +Thomas very solemnly assured her that had there been no young woman +in question, had there been no young person of either sex belonging +to him, to be endangered by the society or hurt by the character of +Mrs. Rushworth, he would never have offered so great an insult to +the neighborhood as to expect it to notice her. As a daughter--he +hoped a penitent one--she should be protected by him, and secured +in every comfort and supported by every encouragement to do right +which their relative situations admitted; but farther than +<i>that</i> he would not go. Maria had destroyed her own character; +and he would not, by a vain attempt to restore what never could be +restored, be affording his sanction to vice, or, in seeking to +lessen its disgrace, be anywise accessory to introducing such +misery in another man's family as he had known himself....</p> +<p>Henry Crawford, ruined by early independence and bad domestic +example, indulged in the freaks of a cold-blooded vanity a little +too long. Once it had, by an opening undesigned and unmerited, led +him into the way of happiness. Could he have been satisfied with +the conquest of one amiable woman's affections, could he have found +sufficient exultation in overcoming the reluctance, in working +himself into the esteem and tenderness of Fanny Price, there would +have been every probability of success and felicity for him. His +affection had already done something. Her influence over him had +already given him some influence over her. Would he have deserved +more, there can be no doubt that more would have been obtained; +especially when that marriage had taken place, which would have +given him the assistance of her conscience in subduing her first +inclination, and brought them very often together. Would he have +persevered, and uprightly, Fanny must have been his reward--and a +reward very voluntarily bestowed--within a reasonable period from +Edmund's marrying Mary. Had he done as he intended, and as he knew +he ought, by going down to Everingham after his return from +Portsmouth, he might have been deciding his own happy destiny. But +he was pressed to stay for Mrs. Fraser's party: his staying was +made of flattering consequence, and he was to meet Mrs. Rushworth +there. Curiosity and vanity were both engaged, and the temptation +of immediate pleasure was too strong for a mind unused to make any +sacrifice to right; he resolved to defer his Norfolk journey, +resolved that writing should answer the purpose of it, or that its +purpose was unimportant--and staid. He saw Mrs. Rushworth, was +received by her with a coldness which ought to have been repulsive, +and have established apparent indifference between them for ever: +but he was mortified, he could not bear to be thrown off by the +woman whose smiles had been so wholly at his command; he must exert +himself to subdue so proud a display of resentment: it was anger on +Fanny's account; he must get the better of it, and make Mrs. +Rushworth Maria Bertram again in her treatment of himself.</p> +<p>In this spirit he began the attack; and by animated perseverance +had soon re-established the sort of familiar intercourse--of +gallantry--of flirtation--which bounded his views: but in +triumphing over the discretion, which, though beginning in anger, +might have saved them both, he had put himself in the power of +feelings on her side more strong than he had supposed. She loved +him; there was no withdrawing attentions avowedly dear to her. He +was entangled by his own vanity, with as little excuse of love as +possible, and without the smallest inconstancy of mind towards her +cousin. To keep Fanny and the Bertrams from a knowledge of what was +passing became his first object. Secrecy could not have been more +desirable for Mrs. Rushworth's credit than he felt it for his own. +When he returned from Richmond, he would have been glad to see Mrs. +Rushworth no more. All that followed was the result of her +imprudence; and he went off with her at last because he could not +help it, regretting Fanny even at the moment, but regretting her +infinitely more when all the bustle of the intrigue was over, and a +very few months had taught him, by the force of contrast, to place +a yet higher value on the sweetness of her temper, the purity of +her mind, and the excellence of her principles.</p> +<p>That punishment, the public punishment of disgrace, should in a +just measure attend <i>his</i> share of the offense, is, we know, +not one of the barriers which society gives to virtue. In this +world, the penalty is less equal than could be wished; but without +presuming to look forward to a juster appointment hereafter, we may +fairly consider a man of sense, like Henry Crawford, to be +providing for himself no small portion of vexation and +regret--vexation that must rise sometimes to self-reproach, and +regret to wretchedness--in having so requited hospitality, so +injured family peace, so forfeited his best, most estimable, and +endeared acquaintance, and so lost the woman whom he had rationally +as well as passionately loved.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="AVERRO"></a>AVERROËS</h2> +<h3>(1126-1198)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-a.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>verroës (Abu 'l Walid Muhammad, ibn Achmad, ibn Muhammad, +IBN RUSHD; or more in English, Abu 'l Walid Muhammed, the son of +Achmet, the son of Muhammed, the son of Rushd) was born in 1126 at +Cordova, Spain. His father and grandfather, the latter a celebrated +jurist and canonist, had been judges in that city. He first studied +theology and canon law, and later medicine and philosophy; thus, +like Faust, covering the whole field of mediæal science. His +life was cast in the most brilliant period of Western Muslim +culture, in the splendor of that rationalism which preceded the +great darkness of religious fanaticism. As a young man, he was +introduced by Ibn Tufail (Abubacer), author of the famous 'Hayy +al-Yukdhan,' a philosophical 'Robinson Crusoe,' to the enlightened +Khalif Abu Ya'kub Yusuf (1163-84), as a fit expounder of the then +popular philosophy of Aristotle. This position he filled with so +much success as to become a favorite with the Prince, and finally +his private physician. He likewise filled the important office of +judge, first at Seville, later at Cordova.</p> +<p>He enjoyed even greater consideration under the next Khalif, +Ya'kub al-Mansur, until the year 1195, when the jealousy of his +rivals and the fanaticism of the Berbers led to his being accused +of championing philosophy to the detriment of religion. Though +Averroës always professed great respect for religion, and +especially for Islam, as a valuable popular substitute for science +and philosophy, the charge could hardly be rebutted (as will be +shown later), and the Amir of the Faithful could scarcely afford +openly to favor a heretic. Averroës was accordingly deprived +of his honors, and banished to Lacena, a Jewish settlement near +Cordova--a fact which gives coloring to the belief that he was of +Jewish descent. To satisfy his fanatical subjects for the moment, +the Khalif published severe edicts not only against Averroës, +but against all learned men and all learning as hostile to +religion. For a time the poor philosopher could not appear in +public without being mobbed; but after two years, a less fanatical +party having come into power, the Prince revoked his edicts, and +Averroës was restored to favor. This event he did not long +survive. He died on 10th December 1198, in Marocco. Here too he was +buried; but his body was afterward transported to Cordova, and laid +in the tomb of his fathers. He left several sons, more than one of +whom came to occupy important positions.</p> +<p>Averroës was the last great Muslim thinker, summing up and +carrying to its conclusions the thought of four hundred years. The +philosophy of Islam, which flourished first in the East, in Basra +and Bagdad (800-1100), and then in the West, Cordova, Toledo, etc. +(1100-1200), was a mixture of Aristotelianism and Neo-Platonism, +borrowed, under the earlier Persianizing Khalifs, from the +Christian (mainly Nestorian) monks of Syria and Mesopotamia, being +consequently a naturalistic system. In it God was acknowledged only +as the supreme abstraction; while eternal matter, law, and +impersonal intelligence played the principal part. It was +necessarily irreconcilable with Muslim orthodoxy, in which a +crudely conceived, intensely personal God is all in all. While +Persian influence was potent, philosophy flourished, produced some +really great scholars and thinkers, made considerable headway +against Muslim fatalism and predestination, and seemed in a fair +way to bring about a free and rational civilization, eminent in +science and art. But no sooner did the fanatical or scholastic +element get the upper hand than philosophy vanished, and with it +all hope of a great Muslim civilization in the East. This change +was marked by Al-Ghazzali, and his book 'The Destruction of the +Philosophers.' He died in A.D. 1111, and then the works of +Al-Farabi, Ibn-Sina, and the "Brothers of Purity," wandered out to +the far West, to seek for appreciation among the Muslim, Jews, and +Christians of Spain. And for a brief time they found it there, and +in the twelfth century found also eloquent expounders at the +mosque-schools of Cordova, Toledo, Seville, and Saragossa. Of these +the most famous were Ibn Baja, Ibn Tufail, and Ibn Rushd +(Averroës).</p> +<p>During its progress, Muslim philosophy had gradually been +eliminating the Neo-Platonic, mystic element, and returning to pure +Aristotelianism. In Averroës, who professed to be merely a +commentator on Aristotle, this tendency reached its climax; and +though he still regarded the pseudo-Aristotelian works as genuine, +and did not entirely escape their influence, he is by far the least +mystic of Muslim thinkers. The two fundamental doctrines upon which +he always insisted, and which long made his name famous, not to say +notorious, the eternity of matter and of the world (involving a +denial of the doctrine of creation), and the oneness of the active +intellect in all men (involving the mortality of the individual +soul and the impossibility of resurrection and judgment), are both +of Aristotelian origin. It was no wonder that he came into conflict +with the orthodox Muslim; for in the warfare between Arab +prophetism, with its shallow apologetic scholasticism, and Greek +philosophy, with its earnest endeavor to find truth, and its belief +in reason as the sole revealer thereof, he unhesitatingly took the +side of the latter. He held that man is made to discover truth, and +that the serious study of God and his works is the noblest form of +worship.</p> +<p>However little one may agree with his chief tenets, there can be +no doubt that he was the most enlightened man of the entire Middle +Age, in Europe at least; and if his spirit and work had been +continued, Western Islâm might have become a great permanent +civilizing power. But here again, after a brief period of +extraordinary philosophic brilliancy, fanaticism got the upper +hand. With the death of Averroës the last hope of a beneficent +Muslim civilization came to an end. Since then, Islam has been a +synonym for blind fanaticism and cruel bigotry. In many parts of +the Muslim world, "philosopher" is a term of reproach, like +"miscreant."</p> +<p>But though Islam rejected its philosopher, Averroës's work +was by no means without its effect. It was through his commentaries +on Aristotle that the thought of that greatest of ancient thinkers +became known to the western world, both Jewish and Christian. Among +the Jews, his writings soon acquired almost canonical authority. +His system found expression in the works of the best known of +Hebrew thinkers, Maimonides (1135-1204), "the second Moses" works +which, despite all orthodox opposition, dominated Jewish thought +for nearly three hundred years, and made the Jews during that time +the chief promoters of rationalism. When Muslim persecution forced +a large number of Jews to leave Spain and settle in Southern +France, the works of Averroës and Maimonides were translated +into Hebrew, which thenceforth became the vehicle of Jewish +thought; and thus Muslim Aristotelianism came into direct contact +with Christianity.</p> +<p>Among the Christians, the works of Averroës, translated by +Michael Scott, "wizard of dreaded fame," Hermann the German, and +others, acted at once like a mighty solvent. Heresy followed in +their track, and shook the Church to her very foundations. +Recognizing that her existence was at stake, she put forth all her +power to crush the intruder. The Order of Preachers, initiated by +St. Dominic of Calahorra (1170-1221), was founded; the Inquisition +was legalized (about 1220). The writings of Aristotle and his Arab +commentators were condemned to the flames (1209, 1215, 1231). +Later, when all this proved unavailing, the best intellects in +Christendom, such as Albertus Magnus (1193-1280), and Thomas +Aquinas (1227-74), undertook to repel the new doctrine with its own +weapons; that is, by submitting the thought of Aristotle and his +Arab commentators to rational discussion. Thus was introduced the +second or palmy period of Christian Scholasticism, whose chief +industry, we may fairly say, was directed to the refutation of the +two leading doctrines of Averroës. Aiming at this, Thomas +Aquinas threw the whole dogmatic system of the Church into the +forms of Aristotle, and thus produced that colossal system of +theology which still prevails in the Roman Catholic world; witness +the Encyclical <i>Æterni Patris</i> of Leo XIII., issued in +1879.</p> +<p>By the great thinkers of the thirteenth century, Averroës, +though regarded as heretical and dangerous in religion, was looked +up to as an able thinker, and the commentator <i>par +excellence</i>; so much so that St. Thomas borrowed from him the +very form of his own Commentaries, and Dante assigned him a +distinguished place, beside Plato and Aristotle, in the limbo of +ancient sages ('Inferno,' iv. 143). But in the following +century--mainly, no doubt, because he was chosen as the patron of +certain strongly heretical movements, such as those instigated by +the arch-rationalist Frederic II--he came to be regarded as the +precursor of Antichrist, if not that personage himself: being +credited with the awful blasphemy of having spoken of the founders +of the three current religions--Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad--as "the +three impostors." Whatever truth there may be in this, so much is +certain, that infidelity, in the sense of an utter disbelief in +Christianity as a revealed religion, or in any sense specially +true, dates from the thirteenth century, and is due in large +measure to the influence of Averroës. Yet he was a great +favorite with the Franciscans, and for a time exercised a profound +influence on the universities of Paris and Oxford, finding a strong +admirer even in Roger Bacon. His thought was also a powerful +element in the mysticism of Meister Eckhart and his followers; a +mysticism which incurred the censure of the Church.</p> +<p>Thus both the leading forms of heresy which characterized the +thirteenth century--naturalism with its tendency to magic, +astrology, alchemy, etc., etc., and mysticism with its dreams of +beatific visions, its self-torture and its lawlessness (see +Görres, 'Die Christliche Mystik')--were due largely to +Averroës. In spite of this, his commentaries on Aristotle +maintained their credit, their influence being greatest in the +fourteenth century, when his doctrines were openly professed. After +the invention of printing, they appeared in numberless +editions,--several times in connection with the text of Aristotle. +As the age of the Renaissance and of Protestantism approached, they +gradually lost their prestige. The chief humanists, like Petrarch, +as well as the chief reformers, were bitterly hostile to them. +Nevertheless, they contributed important elements to both +movements.</p> +<p>Averroism survived longest in Northern Italy, especially in the +University of Padua, where it was professed until the seventeenth +century, and where, as a doctrine hostile to supernaturalism, it +paved the way for the study of nature and the rise of modern +science. Thus Averroës may fairly be said to have had a share +in every movement toward freedom, wise and unwise, for the last +seven hundred years. In truth, free thought in Europe owes more to +him than to any other man except Abélard. His last declared +follower was the impetuous Lucilio Vanini, who was burned for +atheism at Toulouse in 1619.</p> +<p>The best work on Averroës is Renan's 'Averroës et +l'Averroïsme' (fourth edition, Paris, 1893). This contains, on +pages 58-79, a complete list both of his commentaries and his +original writings.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>THE <a name="AVESTA"></a>AVESTA</h2> +<h3>(From about B.C. Sixth Century)</h3> +<h3>BY A.V. WILLIAMS JACKSON</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-a.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>vesta, or Zend-Avesta, an interesting monument of antiquity, is +the Bible of Zoroaster, the sacred book of ancient Iran, and holy +scripture of the modern Parsis. The exact meaning of the name +"Avesta" is not certain; it may perhaps signify "law," "text," or, +more doubtfully, "wisdom," "revelation." The modern familiar +designation of the book as Zend-Avesta is not strictly accurate; if +used at all, it should rather be Avesta-Zend, like "Bible and +Commentary," as <i>zand</i> signifies "explanation," "commentary," +and <i>Avesta u Zand</i> is employed in some Persian allusions to +the Zoroastrian scriptures as a designation denoting the text of +the Avesta accompanied by the Pahlavi version or +interpretation.</p> +<p>The story of the recovery of the Avesta, or rather the discovery +of the Avesta, by the enthusiastic young French scholar Anquetil du +Perron, who was the first to open to the western world the ancient +records of Zoroastrianism, reads almost like a romance. Du Perron's +own account of his departure for India in 1754, of his experiences +with the <i>dasturs</i> (or priests) during a seven years' +residence among them, of his various difficulties and annoyances, +setbacks and successes, is entertainingly presented in the +introductory volume of his work 'Zend-Avesta, Ouvrage de Zoroastre' +(3 Vols., Paris, 1771). This was the first translation of the +ancient Persian books published in a European language. Its +appearance formed one of those epochs which are marked by an +addition to the literary, religious, or philosophical wealth of our +time; a new contribution was added to the riches of the West from +the treasures of the East. The field thus thrown open, although +worked imperfectly at first, has yielded abundant harvests to the +hands of later gleaners.</p> +<br> +<a name="image135.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image135.jpg"><img src= +"images/image135.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></a><br> +<br> +<i>THE ZEND-AVESTA.</i><br> +<br> +Facsimile of a Page of the<br> +AVESTA;<br> +from the oldest preserved manuscript containing the<br> +YAÇNA.<br> +A.D. 1325. In the Royal Library at Copenhagen.<br> +<br> +The Zend-Avesta--more properly the Avesta-Zend, i.e., "Text and +Commentary"<br> +is the "Bible" of the Persians. The four parts into<br> +which it is divided are called Yaçna, Vispered,<br> +Vendidad, and Khordah-Avesta.</p> +<br> +<p>With the growth of our knowledge of the language of the sacred +texts, we have now a clear idea also of the history of Zoroastrian +literature and of the changes and chances through which with +varying fortunes the scriptures have passed. The original +Zoroastrian Avesta, according to tradition, was in itself a +literature of vast dimensions. Pliny, in his 'Natural History,' +speaks of two million verses of Zoroaster; to which may be added +the Persian assertion that the original copy of the scriptures was +written upon twelve thousand parchments, with gold illuminated +letters, and was deposited in the library at Persepolis. But what +was the fate of this archetype? Parsi tradition has an answer. +Alexander the Great--"the accursed Iskander," as he is called--is +responsible for its destruction. At the request of the beautiful +Thais, as the story goes, he allowed the palace of Persepolis to be +burned, and the precious treasure perished in the flames. Whatever +view we may take of the different sides of this story, one thing +cannot be denied: the invasion of Alexander and the subjugation of +Iran was indirectly or directly the cause of a certain religious +decadence which followed upon the disruption of the Persian Empire, +and was answerable for the fact that a great part of the scriptures +was forgotten or fell into disuse. Persian tradition lays at the +doors of the Greeks the loss of another copy of the original +ancient texts, but does not explain in what manner this happened; +nor has it any account to give of copies of the prophet's works +which Semitic writers say were translated into nearly a dozen +different languages. One of these versions was perhaps Greek, for +it is generally acknowledged that in the fourth century B.C. the +philosopher Theopompus spent much time in giving in his own tongue +the contents of the sacred Magian books.</p> +<p>Tradition is unanimous on one point at least: it is that the +original Avesta comprised twenty-one <i>Nasks</i>, or books, a +statement which there is no good reason to doubt. The same +tradition which was acquainted with the general character of these +Nasks professes also to tell exactly how many of them survived the +inroad of Alexander; for although the sacred text itself was +destroyed, its contents were lost only in part, the priests +preserving large portions of the precious scriptures. These met +with many vicissitudes in the five centuries that intervened +between the conquest of Alexander and the great restoration of +Zoroastrianism in the third century of our era, under the Sassanian +dynasty. At this period all obtainable Zoroastrian scriptures were +collected, the compilation was codified, and a detailed notice made +of the contents of each of the original Nasks compared with the +portions then surviving. The original Avesta was, it would appear, +a sort of encyclopaedic work; not of religion alone, but of useful +knowledge relating to law, to the arts, science, the professions, +and to every-day life. If we may judge from the existing table of +contents of these Nasks, the zealous Sassanians, even in the time +of the collecting (A. D. 226-380), were able to restore but a +fragment of the archetype, perhaps a fourth part of the original +Avesta. Nor was this remnant destined to escape misfortune. The +Mohammedan invasion, in the seventh century of our era added a +final and crushing blow. Much of the religion that might otherwise +have been handed down to us, despite "the accursed Iskander's" +conquest, now perished through the sword and the Koran. Its loss, +we must remember, is in part compensated by the Pahlavi religious +literature of Sassanian days.</p> +<p>Fragmentary and disjointed as are the remnants of the Avesta, we +are fortunate in possessing even this moiety of the Bible of +Zoroaster, whose compass is about one tenth that of our own sacred +book. A grouping of the existing texts is here presented:--1. Yasna +(including Gathas). 2. Visperad. 3. Yashts. 4. Minor Texts. 5. +Vendidad. 6. Fragments.</p> +<p>Even these texts no single manuscript in our time contains +complete. The present collection is made by combining various +Avestan codexes. In spite of the great antiquity of the literature, +all the existing manuscripts are comparatively young. None is older +than the thirteenth century of our own era, while the direct +history of only one or two can be followed back to about the tenth +century. This mere external circumstance has of course no bearing +on the actual early age of the Zoroastrian scriptures. It must be +kept in mind that Zoroaster lived at least six centuries before the +birth of Christ.</p> +<p>Among the six divisions of our present Avesta, the Yasna, +Visperad, and Vendidad are closely connected. They are employed in +the daily ritual, and they are also accompanied by a version or +interpretation in the Pahlavi language, which serves at the same +time as a sort of commentary. The three divisions are often found +combined into a sort of prayer-book, called Vendidad-Sadah +(Vendidad Pure); i.e., Avesta text without the Pahlavi rendering. +The chapters in this case are arranged with special reference to +liturgical usage.</p> +<p>Some idea of the character of the Avesta as it now exists may be +derived from the following sketch of its contents and from the +illustrative selections presented:--</p> +<p>1. <i>Yasna</i> (sacrifice, worship), the chief liturgical work +of the sacred canon. It consists mainly of ascriptions of praise +and of prayer, and corresponds nearly to our idea of a prayer-book. +The Yasna comprises seventy-two chapters; these fall into three +nearly equal parts. The middle, or oldest part, is the section of +Gathas below described.</p> +<p>The meaning of the word <i>yasna</i> as above gives at once some +conception of the nature of the texts. The Yasna chapters were +recited at the sacrifice: a sacrifice that consisted not in +blood-offerings, but in an offering of praise and thanksgiving, +accompanied by ritual observances. The white-robed priest, girt +with the sacred cord and wearing a veil, the <i>paitidana</i>, +before his lips in the presence of the holy fire, begins the +service by an invocation of Ahura Mazda (Ormazd) and the heavenly +hierarchy; he then consecrates the <i>zaothra</i> water, the +<i>myazda</i> or oblation, and the <i>baresma</i> or bundle of +sacred twigs. He and his assistant now prepare the <i>haoma</i> +(the <i>soma</i> of the Hindus), or juice of a sacred plant, the +drinking of which formed part of the religious rite. At the ninth +chapter of the book, the rhythmical chanting of the praises of +Haoma is begun. This deified being, a personification of the +consecrated drink, is supposed to have appeared before the prophet +himself, and to have described to him the blessings which the +<i>haoma</i> bestows upon its pious worshiper. The lines are +metrical, as in fact they commonly are in the older parts of the +Avesta, and the rhythm somewhat recalls the Kalevala verse of +Longfellow's 'Hiawatha.' A specimen is here presented in +translation:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">At the time of morning-worship</p> +<p class="i6">Haoma came to Zoroaster,</p> +<p class="i6">Who was serving at the Fire</p> +<p class="i6">And the holy Psalms intoning.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"What man art thou (asked the Prophet),</p> +<p class="i6">Who of all the world material</p> +<p class="i6">Art the fairest I have e'er seen</p> +<p class="i6">In my life, bright and immortal?"</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The image of the sacred plant responds, and bids the priest +prepare the holy extract.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Haoma then to me gave answer,</p> +<p class="i6">Haoma righteous, death-destroying:--</p> +<p class="i6">"Zoroaster, I am Haoma,</p> +<p class="i6">Righteous Haoma, death-destroying.</p> +<p class="i6">Do thou gather me, Spitama,</p> +<p class="i6">And prepare me as a potion;</p> +<p class="i6">Praise me, aye as shall hereafter</p> +<p class="i6">In their praise the Saviors praise me."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Zoroaster again inquires, wishing to know of the pious men of +old who worshiped Haoma and obtained blessings for their religious +zeal. Among these, as is learned from Haoma, one was King Yima, +whose reign was the time of the Golden Age; those were the happy +days when a father looked as young as his children.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">In the reign of princely Yima,</p> +<p class="i6">Heat there was not, cold there was not,</p> +<p class="i6">Neither age nor death existed,</p> +<p class="i6">Nor disease the work of Demons;</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Son and father walked together</p> +<p class="i6">Fifteen years old, each in figure,</p> +<p class="i6">Long as Vivanghvat's son Yima,</p> +<p class="i6">The good Shepherd, ruled as sovereign.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>For two chapters more, Haoma is extolled. Then follows the +Avestan Creed (Yasna 12), a prose chapter that was repeated by +those who joined in the early Zoroastrian faith, forsook the old +marauding and nomadic habits that still characterize the modern +Kurds, and adopted an agricultural habit of life, devoting +themselves peaceably to cattle-raising, irrigation, and cultivation +of the fields. The greater part of the Yasna book is of a liturgic +or ritualistic nature, and need not here be further described. +Special mention, however, must be made of the middle section of the +Yasna, which is constituted by "the Five Gathas" (hymns, psalms), a +division containing the seventeen sacred psalms, sayings, sermons, +or teachings of Zoroaster himself. These Gathas form the oldest +part of the entire canon of the Avesta. In them we see before our +eyes the prophet of the new faith speaking with the fervor of the +Psalmist of the Bible. In them we feel the thrill of ardor that +characterizes a new and struggling religious band; we are warmed by +the burning zeal of the preacher of a church militant. Now, +however, comes a cry of despondency, a moment of faint-heartedness +at the present triumph of evil, at the success of the wicked and +the misery of the righteous; but this gives way to a clarion burst +of hopefulness, the trumpet note of a prophet filled with the +promise of ultimate victory, the triumph of good over evil. The end +of the world cannot be far away; the final overthrow of Ahriman +(Anra Mainyu) by Ormazd (Ahura Mazda) is assured; the establishment +of a new order of things is certain; at the founding of this +"kingdom" the resurrection of the dead will take place and the life +eternal will be entered upon.</p> +<p>The third Gatha, Yasna 30, may be chosen by way of illustration. +This is a sort of Mazdian Sermon on the Mount. Zoroaster preaches +the doctrine of dualism, the warfare of good and evil in the world, +and exhorts the faithful to choose aright and to combat Satan. The +archangels Good Thought (Vohu Manah), Righteousness (Asha), Kingdom +(Khshathra), appear as the helpers of Man (Maretan); for whose +soul, as in the old English morality play, the Demons (Dævas) +are contending. Allusions to the resurrection and final judgment, +and to the new dispensation, are easily recognized in the spirited +words of the prophet. A prose rendering of this metrical psalm is +here attempted; the verse order, however, is preserved, though +without rhythm.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_1"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3"><b>A PSALM OF ZOROASTER: YASNA 30</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now shall I speak of things which ye who seek them shall bear in +mind,</p> +<p>Namely, the praises of Ahura Mazda and the worship of Good +Thought,</p> +<p>And the joy of [<i>lit</i>. through] Righteousness which is +manifested through Light.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>2</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Hearken with your ears to what is best; with clear understanding +perceive it.</p> +<p>Awakening to our advising every man, personally, of the +distinction</p> +<p>Between the two creeds, before the Great Event [i.e., the +Resurrection].</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>3</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, Two Spirits primeval there were twins which became known +through their activity,</p> +<p>To wit, the Good and the Evil, in thought, word, and deed.</p> +<p>The wise have rightly distinguished between these two; not so +the unwise.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>4</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And, now, when these Two Spirits first came together, they +established</p> +<p>Life and destruction, and ordained how the world hereafter shall +be,</p> +<p>To wit, the Worst World [Hell] for the wicked, but the Best +Thought [Heaven] for the righteous.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>5</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Wicked One [Ahriman] of these Two Spirits chose to do +evil,</p> +<p>The Holiest Spirit [Ormazd]--who wears the solid heavens as a +robe--chose Righteousness [Asha],</p> +<p>And [so also those] who zealously gratified Ormazd by virtuous +deeds.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>6</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Not rightly did the Demons distinguish these Two Spirits; for +Delusion came</p> +<p>Upon them, as they were deliberating, so that they chose the +Worst Thought [Hell].</p> +<p>And away they rushed to Wrath [the Fiend] in order to corrupt +the life of Man [Maretan].</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>7</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And to him [i.e., to Gaya Maretan] came Khshathra [Kingdom], +Vohu Manah [Good Thought] and Asha [Righteousness],</p> +<p>And Armaiti [Archangel of Earth] gave [to him] bodily endurance +unceasingly;</p> +<p>Of these, Thy [creatures], when Thou earnest with Thy creations, +he [i.e., Gaya Maretan] was the first.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>8</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But when the retribution of the sinful shall come to pass,</p> +<p>Then shall Good Thought distribute Thy Kingdom,</p> +<p>Shall fulfill it for those who shall deliver Satan [Druj] into +the hand of Righteousness [Asha].</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>9</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And so may we be such as make the world renewed,</p> +<p>And may Ahura Mazda and Righteousness lend their aid,</p> +<p>That our thoughts may there be [set] where Faith is abiding.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>10</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For at the [final] Dispensation, the blow of annihilation to +Satan shall come to pass;</p> +<p>But those who participate in a good report [in the Life Record] +shall meet together</p> +<p>In the happy home of Good Thought, and of Mazda, and of +Righteousness.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>11</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>If, O ye men, ye mark these doctrines which Mazda gave,</p> +<p>And [mark] the weal and the woe--namely, the long torment of the +wicked,</p> +<p>And the welfare of the righteous--then in accordance with these +[doctrines] there will be happiness hereafter.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<p>The <i>Visperad</i> (all the masters) is a short collection of +prosaic invocations and laudations of sacred things. Its +twenty-four sections form a supplement to the Yasna. Whatever +interest this division of the Avesta possesses lies entirely on the +side of the ritual, and not in the field of literature. In this +respect it differs widely from the book of the Yashts, which is +next to be mentioned.</p> +<p>The <i>Yashts</i> (praises of worship) form a poetical book of +twenty-one hymns in which the angels of the religion, "the +worshipful ones" (<i>Yazatas, Izads</i>), are glorified, and the +heroes of former days. Much of the material of the Yashts is +evidently drawn from pre-Zoroastrian sagas which have been +remodeled and adopted, worked over and modified, and incorporated +into the canon of the new-founded religion. There is a mythological +and legendary atmosphere about the Yashts, and Firdausi's 'Shah +Nameh' serves to throw light on many of the events portrayed in +them, or allusions that would otherwise be obscure. All the longer +Yashts are in verse, and some of them have poetic merit. Chiefly to +be mentioned among the longer ones are: first, the one in praise of +Ardvi Sura Anahita, or the stream celestial (Yt. 5); second, the +Yasht which exalts the star Tishtrya and his victory over the demon +of drought (Yt. 8); then the one devoted to the Fravashis or +glorified souls of the righteous (Yt. 13) as well as the Yasht in +honor of Verethraghna, the incarnation of Victory (Yt. 14). +Selections from the others, Yt. 10 and Yt. 19, which are among the +noblest, are here given.</p> +<p>The first of the two chosen (Yt. 10) is dedicated to the great +divinity Mithra, the genius who presides over light, truth, and the +sun (Yt. 10, 13).</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Foremost he, the celestial angel,</p> +<p class="i6">Mounts above Mount Hara (Alborz)</p> +<p class="i6">In advance of the sun immortal</p> +<p class="i6">Which is drawn by fleeting horses;</p> +<p class="i6">He it is, in gold adornment</p> +<p class="i6">First ascends the beauteous summits</p> +<p class="i6">Thence beneficent he glances</p> +<p class="i6">Over all the abode of Aryans.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>As the god of light and of truth and as one of the judges of the +dead, he rides out in lordly array to the battle and takes an +active part in the conflict, wreaking vengeance upon those who at +any time in their life have spoken falsely, belied their oath, or +broken their pledge. His war-chariot and panoply are described in +mingled lines of verse and prose, which may thus be rendered (Yt. +10, 128-132):--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">By the side of Mithra's chariot,</p> +<p class="i6">Mithra, lord of the wide pastures,</p> +<p class="i6">Stand a thousand bows well-fashioned</p> +<p class="i6">(The bow has a string of cowgut).</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>By his chariot also are standing a thousand vulture-feathered, +gold-notched, lead-poised, well-fashioned arrows (the barb is of +iron); likewise a thousand spears well-fashioned and +sharp-piercing, and a thousand steel battle-axes, two-edged and +well-fashioned; also a thousand bronze clubs well-fashioned.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">And by Mithra's chariot also</p> +<p class="i6">Stands a mace, fair and well-striking,</p> +<p class="i6">With a hundred knobs and edges,</p> +<p class="i6">Dashing forward, felling heroes;</p> +<p class="i6">Out of golden bronze 'tis molded.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The second illustrative extract will be taken from Yasht 19, +which magnifies in glowing strains the praises of the Kingly Glory. +This "kingly glory" (<i>kavaem hvareno</i>) is a sort of halo, +radiance, or mark of divine right, which was believed to be +possessed by the kings and heroes of Iran in the long line of its +early history. One hero who bore the glory was the mighty warrior +Thraetaona (Feridun), the vanquisher of the serpent-monster Azhi +Dahaka (Zohak), who was depopulating the world by his fearful daily +banquet of the brains of two children. The victory was a glorious +triumph for Thraetaona (Yt. 19, 37):--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">He who slew Azhi Dahaka,</p> +<p class="i6">Three-jawed monster, triple-headed,</p> +<p class="i6">With six eyes and myriad senses,</p> +<p class="i6">Fiend demoniac, full of power,</p> +<p class="i6">Evil to the world, and wicked.</p> +<p class="i6">This fiend full of power, the Devil</p> +<p class="i6">Anra Mainyu had created,</p> +<p class="i6">Fatal to the world material,</p> +<p class="i6">Deadly to the world of Righteousness.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Of equal puissance was another noble champion, the valiant +Keresaspa, who dispatched a raging demon who, though not yet grown +to man's estate, was threatening the world. The monster's +thrasonical boasting is thus given (Yt. 19, 43):--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">I am yet only a stripling,</p> +<p class="i6">But if ever I come to manhood</p> +<p class="i6">I shall make the earth my chariot</p> +<p class="i6">And shall make a wheel of heaven.</p> +<p class="i6">I shall drive the Holy Spirit</p> +<p class="i6">Down from out the shining heaven,</p> +<p class="i6">I shall rout the Evil Spirit</p> +<p class="i6">Up from out the dark abysm;</p> +<p class="i6">They as steeds shall draw my chariot,</p> +<p class="i6">God and Devil yoked together.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Passing over a collection of shorter petitions, praises, and +blessings which may conveniently be grouped together as 'Minor +Prayers,' for they answer somewhat to our idea of a daily manual of +morning devotion, we may turn to the Vendidad (law against the +demons), the Iranian Pentateuch. Tradition asserts that in the +Vendidad we have preserved a specimen of one of the original Nasks. +This may be true, but even the superficial student will see that it +is in any case a fragmentary remnant. Interesting as the Vendidad +is to the student of early rites, observances, manners, and +customs, it is nevertheless a barren field for the student of +literature, who will find in it little more than wearisome +prescriptions like certain chapters of Leviticus, Numbers, and +Deuteronomy. It need only be added that at the close of the +colloquy between Zoroaster and Ormazd given in Vend. 6, he will +find the origin of the modern Parsi "Towers of Silence."</p> +<p>Among the Avestan Fragments, attention might finally be called +to one which we must be glad has not been lost. It is an old +metrical bit (Frag. 4, 1-3) in praise of the Airyama Ishya Prayer +(Yt. 54, 1). This is the prayer that shall be intoned by the Savior +and his companions at the end of the world, when the resurrection +will take place; and it will serve as a sort of last trump, at the +sound of which the dead rise from their graves and evil is banished +from the world. Ormazd himself says to Zoroaster (Frag. 4, +1-3):--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The Airyama Ishya prayer, I tell thee,</p> +<p class="i6">Upright, holy Zoroaster,</p> +<p class="i6">Is the greatest of all prayers.</p> +<p class="i6">Verily among all prayers</p> +<p class="i6">It is this one which I gifted</p> +<p class="i6">With revivifying powers.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">This prayer shall the Saoshyants, Saviors,</p> +<p class="i6">Chant, and at the chanting of it</p> +<p class="i6">I shall rule over my creatures,</p> +<p class="i6">I who am Ahura Mazda.</p> +<p class="i6">Not shall Ahriman have power,</p> +<p class="i6">Anra Mainyu, o'er my creatures,</p> +<p class="i6">He (the fiend) of foul religion.</p> +<p class="i6">In the earth shall Ahriman hide,</p> +<p class="i6">In the earth the demons hide.</p> +<p class="i6">Up the dead again shall rise,</p> +<p class="i6">And within their lifeless bodies</p> +<p class="i6">Incorporate life shall be restored.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Inadequate as brief extracts must be to represent the sacred +books of a people, the citations here given will serve to show that +the Avesta which is still recited in solemn tones by the +white-robed priests of Bombay, the modern representatives of +Zoroaster, the Prophet of ancient days, is a survival not without +value to those who appreciate whatever has been preserved for us of +the world's earlier literature. For readers who are interested in +the subject there are several translations of the Avesta. The best +(except for the Gathas, where the translation is weak) is the +French version by Darmesteter, 'Le Zend Avesta,' published in the +'Annales du Musée Guimet' (Paris, 1892-93). An English +rendering by Darmesteter and Mills is contained in the 'Sacred +Books of the East,' Vols. iv., xxiii., xxxi.</p> +<p class="sign"><img src="images/sign144.png" width="60%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_2"></a> +<h3>A PRAYER FOR KNOWLEDGE</h3> +<p>This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: when praise is to be +offered, how shall I complete the praise of the One like You, O +Mazda? Let the One like Thee declare it earnestly to the friend who +is such as I, thus through Thy Righteousness within us to offer +friendly help to us, so that the One like Thee may draw near us +through Thy Good Mind within the Soul.</p> +<p>2. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright how, in pleasing +Him, may we serve the Supreme One of the better world; yea, how to +serve that chief who may grant us those blessings of his grace and +who will seek for grateful requitals at our hands; for He, +bountiful as He is through the Righteous Order, will hold off ruin +from us all, guardian as He is for both the worlds, O Spirit Mazda! +and a friend.</p> +<p>3. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who by generation +is the first father of the Righteous Order within the world? Who +gave the recurring sun and stars their undeviating way? Who +established that whereby the moon waxes, and whereby she wanes, +save Thee? These things, O Great Creator! would I know, and others +likewise still.</p> +<p>4. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who from beneath +hath sustained the earth and the clouds above that they do not +fall? Who made the waters and the plants? Who to the wind has yoked +on the storm-clouds the swift and fleetest two? Who, O Great +Creator! is the inspirer of the good thoughts within our souls?</p> +<p>5. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who, as a skillful +artisan, hath made the lights and the darkness? Who, as thus +skillful, hath made sleep and the zest of waking hours? Who spread +the Auroras, the noontides and midnight, monitors to discerning +man, duty's true guides?</p> +<p>6. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright these things which I +shall speak forth, if they are truly thus. Doth the Piety which we +cherish in reality increase the sacred orderliness within our +actions? To these Thy true saints hath she given the Realm through +the Good Mind? For whom hast thou made the Mother-kine, the produce +of joy?</p> +<p>7. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who fashioned +Aramaiti (our piety) the beloved, together with Thy Sovereign +Power? Who, through his guiding wisdom, hath made the son revering +the father? Who made him beloved? With questions such as these, so +abundant, O Mazda! I press Thee, O bountiful Spirit, Thou maker of +all!</p> +<p>Yasna xliv.: Translation of L.H. Mills.</p> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_3"></a> +<h3>THE ANGEL OF DIVINE OBEDIENCE</h3> +<p>We worship Sraosha [Obedience] the blessed, whom four racers +draw in harness, white and shining, beautiful and (27) powerful, +quick to learn and fleet, obeying before speech, heeding orders +from the mind, with their hoofs of horn gold-covered, (28) fleeter +than [our] horses, swifter than the winds, more rapid than the rain +[drops as they fall]; yea, fleeter than the clouds, or well-winged +birds, or the well-shot arrow as it flies, (29) which overtake +these swift ones all, as they fly after them pursuing, but which +are never overtaken when they flee, which plunge away from both the +weapons [hurled on this side and on that] and draw Sraosha with +them, the good Sraosha and the blessed; which from both the weapons +[those on this side and on that] bear the good Obedience the +blessed, plunging forward in their zeal, when he takes his course +from India on the East and when he lights down in the West.</p> +<p>Yasna lvii. 27-29: Translation of L.H. Mills.</p> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_4"></a> +<h3>TO THE FIRE</h3> +<p>I offer my sacrifice and homage to thee, the Fire, as a good +offering, and an offering with our hail of salvation, even as an +offering of praise with benedictions, to thee, the Fire, O Ahura, +Mazda's son! Meet for sacrifice art thou, and worthy of [our] +homage. And as meet for sacrifice, and thus worthy of our homage, +may'st thou be in the houses of men [who worship Mazda]. Salvation +be to this man who worships thee in verity and truth, with wood in +hand and baresma [sacred twigs] ready, with flesh in hand and +holding too the mortar. 2. And mayst thou be [ever] fed with wood +as the prescription orders. Yea, mayst thou have thy perfume +justly, and thy sacred butter without fail, and thine andirons +regularly placed. Be of full age as to thy nourishment, of the +canon's age as to the measure of thy food. O Fire, Ahura, Mazda's +son! 3. Be now aflame within this house; be ever without fail in +flame; be all ashine within this house: for long time be thou thus +to the furtherance of the heroic [renovation], to the completion of +[all] progress, yea, even till the good heroic [millennial] time +when that renovation shall have become complete. 4. Give me, O +Fire, Ahura, Mazda's son! a speedy glory, speedy nourishment and +speedy booty and abundant glory, abundant nourishment, abundant +booty, an expanded mind, and nimbleness of tongue and soul and +understanding, even an understanding continually growing in its +largeness, and that never wanders.</p> +<p>Yasna lxii. 1-4: Translation of L.H. Mills.</p> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_5"></a> +<h3>THE GODDESS OF THE WATERS</h3> +<p>Offer up a sacrifice unto this spring of mine, Ardvi Sura +Anahita (the exalted, mighty, and undefiled, image of the (128) +stream celestial), who stands carried forth in the shape of a maid, +fair of body, most strong, tall-formed, high-girded, pure, nobly +born of a glorious race, wearing a mantle fully embroidered with +gold. 129. Ever holding the baresma in her hand, according to the +rules; she wears square golden ear-rings on her ears bored, and a +golden necklace around her beautiful neck, she, the nobly born +Ardvi Sura Anahita; and she girded her waist tightly, so that her +breasts may be well shaped, that they may be tightly pressed. 128. +Upon her head Ardvi Sura Anahita bound a golden crown, with a +hundred stars, with eight rays, a fine well-made crown, with +fillets streaming down. 129. She is clothed with garments of +beaver, Ardvi Sura Anahita; with the skin of thirty beavers, of +those that bear four young ones, that are the finest kind of +beavers; for the skin of the beaver that lives in water is the +finest colored of all skins, and when worked at the right time it +shines to the eye with full sheen of silver and gold.</p> +<p>Yasht v. 126-129: Translation of J. Darmesteter.</p> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_6"></a> +<h3>GUARDIAN SPIRITS</h3> +<p>We worship the good, strong, beneficent Fravashis [guardian +spirits] of the faithful; with helms of brass, with weapons (45) of +brass, with armor of brass; who struggle in the fights for victory +in garments of light, arraying the battles and bringing them +forwards, to kill thousands of Dævas [demons]. 46. When the +wind blows from behind them and brings their breath unto men, then +men know where blows the breath of victory: and they pay pious +homage unto the good, strong, beneficent Fravashis of the faithful, +with their hearts prepared and their arms uplifted. 47. Whichever +side they have been first worshiped in the fulness of faith of a +devoted heart, to that side turn the awful Fravashis of the +faithful along with Mithra [angel of truth and light] and Rashnu +[Justice] and the awful cursing thought of the wise and the +victorious wind.</p> +<p>Yasht xiii. 45-47: Translation of J. Darmesteter.</p> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_7"></a> +<h3>AN ANCIENT SINDBAD</h3> +<p>The manly-hearted Keresaspa was the sturdiest of the men of +strength, for Manly Courage clave unto him. We worship [this] Manly +Courage, firm of foot, unsleeping, quick to rise, and fully awake, +that clave unto Keresaspa [the hero], who killed the snake Srvara, +the horse-devouring, man-devouring, yellow poisonous snake, over +which yellow poison flowed a thumb's breadth thick. Upon him +Kerasaspa was cooking his food in a brass vessel, at the time of +noon. The fiend felt the heat and darted away; he rushed from under +the brass vessel and upset the boiling water: the manly-hearted +Keresaspa fell back affrighted.</p> +<p>Yasht xix. 38-40: Translation of J. Darmesteter.</p> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_8"></a> +<h3>THE WISE MAN</h3> +<p>Verily I say it unto thee, O Spitama Zoroaster! the man who has +a wife is far above him who lives in continence; he who keeps a +house is far above him who has none; he who has children is far +above the childless man; he who has riches is far above him who has +none.</p> +<p>And of two men, he who fills himself with meat receives in him +good spirit [Vohu Mano] much more than he who does not do so; the +latter is all but dead; the former is above him by the worth of a +sheep, by the worth of an ox, by the worth of a man.</p> +<p>It is this man that can strive against the onsets of death; that +can strive against the well-darted arrow; that can strive against +the winter fiend with thinnest garment on; that can strive against +the wicked tyrant and smite him on the head; it is this man that +can strive against the ungodly fasting Ashemaogha [the fiends and +heretics who do not eat].</p> +<p>Vendidad iv. 47-49: Translation of J. Darmesteter.</p> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_9"></a> +<h3>INVOCATION TO RAIN</h3> +<p>"Come on, O clouds, along the sky, through the air, down on the +earth, by thousands of drops, by myriads of drops," thus say, O +holy Zoroaster! "to destroy sickness altogether, to destroy death +altogether, to destroy altogether the sickness made by the Gaini, +to destroy altogether the death made by Gaini, to destroy +altogether Gadha and Apagadha.</p> +<p>"If death come at eve, may healing come at daybreak!</p> +<p>"If death come at daybreak, may healing come at night!</p> +<p>"If death come at night, may healing come at dawn!</p> +<p>"Let showers shower down new waters, new earth, new trees, new +health, and new healing powers."</p> +<p>Vendidad xxi. 2: Translation of J. Darmesteter.</p> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_10"></a> +<h3>A PRAYER FOR HEALING</h3> +<p>Ahura Mazda spake unto Spitama Zoroaster, saying, "I, Ahura +Mazda, the Maker of all good things, when I made this mansion, the +beautiful, the shining, seen afar (there may I go up, there may I +arrive)!"</p> +<p>Then the ruffian looked at me; the ruffian Anra Mainyu, the +deadly, wrought against me nine diseases and ninety, and nine +hundred, and nine thousand, and nine times ten thousand diseases. +So mayest thou heal me, O Holy Word, thou most glorious one!</p> +<p>Unto thee will I give in return a thousand fleet, swift-running +steeds; I offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda +and holy.</p> +<p>Unto thee will I give in return a thousand fleet, high-humped +camels; I offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda +and holy.</p> +<p>Unto thee will I give in return a thousand brown faultless oxen; +I offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda and +holy.</p> +<p>Unto thee will I give in return a thousand young of all species +of small cattle; I offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by +Mazda and holy.</p> +<p>And I will bless thee with the fair blessing-spell of the +righteous, the friendly blessing-spell of the righteous, that makes +the empty swell to fullness and the full to overflowing, that comes +to help him who was sickening, and makes the sick man sound again. +Vendidad xxii. 1-5: Translation of J. Darmesteter.</p> +<br> +<a name="AVESTA_11"></a> +<h3>FRAGMENT</h3> +<p>All good thoughts, and all good words, and all good deeds are +thought and spoken and done with intelligence; and all evil +thoughts and words and deeds are thought and spoken and done with +folly.</p> +<p>2. And let [the men who think and speak and do] all good +thoughts and words and deeds inhabit Heaven [as their home]. And +let those who think and speak and do evil thoughts and words and +deeds abide in Hell. For to all who think good thoughts, speak good +words, and do good deeds, Heaven, the best world, belongs. And this +is evident and as of course. Avesta, Fragment iii.: Translation of +L.H. Mills.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="AVICEBRON"></a>AVICEBRON</h2> +<h3>(1028-? 1058)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-a.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>vicebron, or Avicebrol (properly Solomon ben Judah ibn Gabirol), +one of the most famous of Jewish poets, and the most original of +Jewish thinkers, was born at Cordova, in Spain, about A.D. 1028. Of +the events of his life we know little; and it was only in 1845 that +Munk, in the 'Literaturblatt des Orient,' proved the Jewish poet +Ibn Gabirol to be one and the same person with Avicebron, so often +quoted by the Schoolmen as an Arab philosopher. He was educated at +Saragossa, spent some years at Malaga, and died, hardly thirty +years old, about 1058. His disposition seems to have been rather +melancholy.</p> +<p>Of his philosophic works, which were written in Arabic, by far +the most important, and that which lent lustre to his name, was the +'Fountain of Life'; a long treatise in the form of a dialogue +between teacher and pupil, on what was then regarded as the +fundamental question in philosophy, the nature and relations of +Matter and Form. The original, which seems never to have been +popular with either Jews or Arabs, is not known to exist; but there +exists a complete Latin translation (the work having found +appreciation among Christians), which has recently been edited with +great care by Professor Bäumker of Breslau, under the title +'Avencebrolis Fons Vitae, ex Arabico in Latinum translatus ab +Johanne Hispano et Dominico Gundissalino' (Münster, 1895). +There is also a series of extracts from it in Hebrew. Besides this, +he wrote a half-popular work, 'On the Improvement of Character,' in +which he brings the different virtues into relation with the five +senses. He is, further, the reputed author of a work 'On the Soul,' +and the reputed compiler of a famous anthology, 'A Choice of +Pearls,' which appeared, with an English translation by B.H. +Ascher, in London, in 1859. In his poetry, which, like that of +other mediæval Hebrew poets, Moses ben Ezra, Judah +Halévy, etc., is partly liturgical, partly worldly, he +abandons native forms, such as we find in the Psalms, and follows +artificial Arabic models, with complicated rhythms and rhyme, +unsuited to Hebrew, which, unlike Arabic, is poor in inflections. +Nevertheless, many of his liturgical pieces are still used in the +services of the synagogue, while his worldly ditties find admirers +elsewhere. (See A. Geiger, 'Ibn Gabirol und seine Dichtungen,' +Leipzig, 1867.)</p> +<p>The philosophy of Ibn Gabirol is a compound of Hebrew monotheism +and that Neo-Platonic Aristotelianism which for two hundred years +had been current in the Muslim schools at Bagdad, Basra, etc., and +which the learned Jews were largely instrumental in carrying to the +Muslims of Spain. For it must never be forgotten that the great +translators and intellectual purveyors of the Middle Ages were the +Jews. (See Steinschneider, 'Die Hebräischen Uebersetzungen des +Mittelalters, und die Juden als Dolmetscher,' 2 vols., Berlin, +1893.)</p> +<p>The aim of Ibn Gabirol, like that of the other three noted +Hebrew thinkers, Philo, Maimonides, and Spinoza, was--given God, to +account for creation; and this he tried to do by means of +Neo-Platonic Aristotelianism, such as he found in the +Pseudo-Pythagoras, Pseudo-Empedocles, Pseudo-Aristotelian +'Theology' (an abstract from Plotinus), and 'Book on Causes' (an +abstract from Proclus's 'Institutio Theologica'). It is well known +that Aristotle, who made God a "thinking of thinking," and placed +matter, as something eternal, over against him, never succeeded in +bringing God into effective connection with the world (see K. +Elser, 'Die Lehredes Aristotles über das Wirken Gottes,' +Münster, 1893); and this defect the Greeks never afterward +remedied until the time of Plotinus, who, without propounding a +doctrine of emanation, arranged the universe as a hierarchy of +existence, beginning with the Good, and descending through +correlated Being and Intelligence, to Soul or Life, which produces +Nature with all its multiplicity, and so stands on "the horizon" +between undivided and divided being. In the famous encyclopaedia of +the "Brothers of Purity," written in the East about A.D. 1000, and +representing Muslim thought at its best, the hierarchy takes this +form: God, Intelligence, Soul, Primal Matter, Secondary Matter, +World, Nature, the Elements, Material Things. (See Dieterici, 'Die +Philosophic der Araber im X. Jahrhundert n. Chr.,' 2 vols., +Leipzig, 1876-79.) In the hands of Ibn Gabirol, this is transformed +thus: God, Will, Primal Matter, Form, Intelligence, +Soul--vegetable, animal, rational, Nature, the source of the +visible world. If we compare these hierarchies, we shall see that +Ibn Gabirol makes two very important changes: <i>first</i>, he +introduces an altogether new element, viz., the Will; +<i>second</i>, instead of placing Intelligence second in rank, next +to God, he puts Will, Matter, and Form before it. Thus, whereas the +earliest thinkers, drawing on Aristotle, had sought for an +explanation of the world in Intelligence, he seeks for it in Will, +thus approaching the standpoint of Schopenhauer. Moreover, whereas +they had made Matter and Form originate in Intelligence, he +includes the latter, together with the material world, among things +compounded of Matter and Form. Hence, everything, save God and His +Will, which is but the expression of Him, is compounded of Matter +and Form (cf. Dante, 'Paradiso,' i. 104 <i>seq</i>.). Had he +concluded from this that God, in order to occupy this exceptional +position, must be pure matter (or substance), he would have reached +the standpoint of Spinoza. As it is, he stands entirely alone in +the Middle Age, in making the world the product of Will, and not of +Intelligence, as the Schoolmen and the classical philosophers of +Germany held.</p> +<p>The 'Fountain of Life' is divided into five books, whose +subjects are as follows:--I. Matter and Form, and their various +kinds. II. Matter as the bearer of body, and the subject of the +categories. III. Separate Substances, in the created intellect, +standing between God and the World. IV. Matter and Form in simple +substances. V. Universal Matter and Universal Form, with a +discussion of the Divine Will, which, by producing and uniting +Matter and Form, brings being out of non-being, and so is the +'Fountain of Life.' Though the author is influenced by Jewish +cosmogony, his system, as such, is almost purely Neo-Platonic. It +remains one of the most considerable attempts that have ever been +made to find in spirit the explanation of the world; not only +making all matter at bottom one, but also maintaining that while +form is due to the divine will, matter is due to the divine +essence, so that both are equally spiritual. It is especially +interesting as showing us, by contrast, how far Christian thinking, +which rested on much the same foundation with it, was influenced +and confined by Christian dogmas, especially by those of the +Trinity and the Incarnation.</p> +<p>Ibn Gabirol's thought exerted a profound influence, not only on +subsequent Hebrew thinkers, like Joseph ben Saddig, Maimonides, +Spinoza, but also on the Christian Schoolmen, by whom he is often +quoted, and on Giordano Bruno. Through Spinoza and Bruno this +influence has passed into the modern world, where it still lives. +Dante, though naming many Arab philosophers, never alludes to Ibn +Gabirol; yet he borrowed more of his sublimest thoughts from the +'Fountain of Life' than from any other book. (Cf. Ibn Gabirol's +'Bedeutung für die Geschichte der Philosophie,' appendix to +Vol. i. of M. Joël's 'Beiträge zur Gesch. der Philos.,' +Breslau, 1876.) If we set aside the hypostatic form in which Ibn +Gabirol puts forward his ideas, we shall find a remarkable +similarity between his system and that of Kant, not to speak of +that of Schopenhauer. For the whole subject, see J. Guttman's 'Die +Philosophic des Salomon Ibn Gabirol' (Göttingen, 1889).</p> +<br> +<a name="AVICEBRON_1"></a> +<h3>ON MATTER AND FORM</h3> +<center>From the 'Fountain of Life,' Fifth Treatise</center> +<p>Intelligence is finite in both directions: on the upper side, by +reason of will, which is above it; on the lower, by reason of +matter, which is outside of its essence. Hence, spiritual +substances are finite with respect to matter, because they differ +through it, and distinction is the cause of finitude; in respect to +forms they are infinite on the lower side, because one form flows +from another. And we must bear in mind that that part of matter +which is above heaven, the more it ascends from it to the principle +of creation, becomes the more spiritual in form, whereas that part +which descends lower than the heaven toward quiet will be more +corporeal in form. Matter, intelligence, and soul comprehend +heaven, and heaven comprehends the elements. And just as, if you +imagine your soul standing at the extreme height of heaven, and +looking back upon the earth, the earth will seem but a point, in +comparison with the heaven, so are corporeal and spiritual +substance in comparison with the will. And first matter is stable +in the knowledge of God, as the earth in the midst of heaven. And +the form diffused through it is as the light diffused through the +air....</p> +<p>We must bear in mind that the unity induced by the will (we +might say, the will itself) binds matter to form. Hence that union +is stable, firm, and perpetual from the beginning of its creation; +and thus unity sustains all things.</p> +<p>Matter is movable, in order that it may receive form, in +conformity with its appetite for receiving goodness and delight +through the reception of form. In like manner, everything that is, +desires to move, in order that it may attain something of the +goodness of the primal being; and the nearer anything is to the +primal being, the more easily it reaches this, and the further off +it is, the more slowly and with the longer motion and time it does +so. And the motion of matter and other substances is nothing but +appetite and love for the mover toward which it moves, as, for +example, matter moves toward form, through desire for the primal +being; for matter requires light from that which is in the essence +of will, which compels matter to move toward will and to desire it: +and herein will and matter are alike. And because matter is +receptive of the form that has flowed down into it by the flux of +violence and necessity, matter must necessarily move to receive +form; and therefore things are constrained by will and obedience in +turn. Hence by the light which it has from will, matter moves +toward will and desires it; but when it receives form, it lacks +nothing necessary for knowing and desiring it, and nothing remains +for it to seek for. For example, in the morning the air has an +imperfect splendor from the sun; but at noon it has a perfect +splendor, and there remains nothing for it to demand of the sun. +Hence the desire for the first motion is a likeness between all +substances and the first Maker, because it is impressed upon all +things to move toward the first; because particular matter desires +particular form, and the matter of plants and animals, which, in +generating, move toward the forms of plants and animals, are also +influenced by the particular form acting in them. In like manner +the sensible soul moves toward sensible forms, and the rational +soul to intelligible forms, because the particular soul, which is +called the first intellect, while it is in its principle, is +susceptible of form; but when it shall have received the form of +universal intelligence, which is the second intellect, and shall +become intelligence, then it will be strong to act, and will be +called the second intellect; and since particular souls have such a +desire, it follows that universal souls must have a desire for +universal forms. The same thing must be said of natural +matter,--that is, the substance which sustains the nine categories; +because this matter moves to take on the first qualities, then to +the mineral form, then to the vegetable, then to the sensible, then +to the rational, then to the intelligible, until at last it is +united to the form of universal intelligence. And this primal +matter desires primal form; and all things that are, desire union +and commixture, that so they may be assimilated to their principle; +and therefore, genera, species, differentiae, and contraries are +united through something in singulars.</p> +<p>Thus, matter is like an empty schedule and a wax tablet; whereas +form is like a painted shape and words set down, from which the +reader reaches the end of science. And when the soul knows these, +it desires to know the wonderful painter of them, to whose essence +it is impossible to ascend. Thus matter and form are the two closed +gates of intelligence, which it is hard for intelligence to open +and pass through, because the substance of intelligence is below +them, and made up of them. And when the soul has subtilized itself, +until it can penetrate them, it arrives at the word, that is, at +perfect will; and then its motion ceases, and its joy remains.</p> +<p>An analogy to the fact that the universal will actualizes +universal form in the matter of intelligence is the fact that the +particular will actualizes the particular form in the soul without +time, and life and essential motion in the matter of the soul, and +local motion and other motions in the matter of nature. But all +these motions are derived from the will; and so all things are +moved by the will, just as the soul causes rest or motion in the +body according to its will. And this motion is different according +to the greater or less proximity of things to the will. And if we +remove action from the will, the will will be identical with the +primal essence; whereas, with action, it is different from it. +Hence, will is as the painter of all forms; the matter of each +thing as a tablet; and the form of each thing as the picture on the +tablet. It binds form to matter, and is diffused through the whole +of matter, from highest to lowest, as the soul through the body; +and as the virtue of the sun, diffusing its light, unites with the +light, and with it descends into the air, so the virtue of the will +unites with the form which it imparts to all things, and descends +with it. On this ground it is said that the first cause is in all +things, and that there is nothing without it.</p> +<p>The will holds all things together by means of form; whence we +likewise say that form holds all things together. Thus, form is +intermediate between will and matter, receiving from will, and +giving to matter. And will acts without time or motion, through its +own might. If the action of soul and intelligence, and the infusion +of light are instantaneous, much more so is that of will.</p> +<p>Creation comes from the high creator, and is an emanation, like +the issue of water flowing from its source; but whereas water +follows water without intermission or rest, creation is without +motion or time. The sealing of form upon matter, as it flows in +from the will, is like the sealing or reflection of a form in a +mirror, when it is seen. And as sense receives the form of the felt +without the matter, so everything that acts upon another acts +solely through its own form, which it simply impresses upon that +other. Hence genus, species, differentia, property, accident, and +all forms in matter are merely an impression made by wisdom.</p> +<p>The created soul is gifted with the knowledge which is proper to +it; but after it is united to the body, it is withdrawn from +receiving those impressions which are proper to it, by reason of +the very darkness of the body, covering and extinguishing its +light, and blurring it, just as in the case of a clear mirror: when +dense substance is put over it its light is obscured. And therefore +God, by the subtlety of his substance, formed this world, and +arranged it according to this most beautiful order, in which it is, +and equipped the soul with senses, wherein, when it uses them, that +which is hidden in it is manifested in act; and the soul, in +apprehending sensible things, is like a man who sees many things, +and when he departs from them, finds that nothing remains with him +but the vision of imagination and memory.</p> +<p>We must also bear in mind that, while matter is made by essence, +form is made by will. And it is said that matter is the seat of +God, and that will, the giver of form, sits on it and rests upon +it. And through the knowledge of these things we ascend to those +things which are behind them, that is, to the cause why there is +anything; and this is a knowledge of the world of deity, which is +the greatest whole: whatever is below it is very small in +comparison with it.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="ROBERT_AYTOUN"></a>ROBERT AYTOUN</h2> +<h3>(1570-1638)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>his Scottish poet was born in his father's castle of Kinaldie, +near St. Andrews, Fifeshire, in 1570. He was descended from the +Norman family of De Vescy, a younger son of which settled in +Scotland and received from Robert Bruce the lands of Aytoun in +Berwickshire. Kincardie came into the family about 1539. Robert +Aytoun was educated at St. Andrews, taking his degree in 1588, +traveled on the Continent like other wealthy Scottish gentlemen, +and studied law at the University of Paris. Returning in 1603, he +delighted James I. by a Latin poem congratulating him on his +accession to the English throne. Thereupon the poet received an +invitation to court as Groom of the Privy Chamber. He rose rapidly, +was knighted in 1612, and made Gentleman of the Bedchamber to King +James and private secretary to Queen Anne. When Charles I. ascended +the throne, Aytoun was retained, and held many important posts. +According to Aubrey, "he was acquainted with all the witts of his +time in England." Sir Robert was essentially a court poet, and +belonged to the cultivated circle of Scottish favorites that James +gathered around him; yet there is no mention of him in the gossipy +diaries of the period, and almost none in the State papers. He +seems, however, to have been popular: Ben Jonson boasts that Aytoun +"loved me dearly." It is not surprising that his mild verses should +have faded in the glorious light of the contemporary poets.</p> +<p class="lft"><img src="images/image157.png" width="40%" alt= +""><br> +<b>ROBERT AYTOUN</b></p> +<p>He wrote in Greek and French, and many of his Latin poems were +published under the title 'Delitiae Poetarum Scotorum' (Amsterdam, +1637). His English poems on such themes as a 'Love Dirge,' 'The +Poet Forsaken,' 'The Lover's Remonstrance,' 'Address to an +Inconstant Mistress,' etc., do not show depth of emotion. He says +of himself:--</p> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8">"Yet have I been a lover by report,</p> +<p class="i9">Yea, I have died for love as others do;</p> +<p class="i8">But praised be God, it was in such a sort</p> +<p class="i9">That I revived within an hour or two."</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<p>The lines beginning "I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair," +quoted below with their adaptation by Burns, do not appear in his +MSS., collected by his heir Sir John Aytoun, nor in the edition of +his works with a memoir prepared by Dr. Charles Rogers, published +in Edinburgh in 1844 and reprinted privately in 1871. Dean Stanley, +in his 'Memorials of Westminster Abbey,' accords to him the +original of 'Auld Lang Syne,' which Rogers includes in his edition. +Burns's song follows the version attributed to Francis Temple.</p> +<p>Aytoun passed his entire life in luxury, died in Whitehall +Palace in 1638, and was the first Scottish poet buried in +Westminster Abbey. His memorial bust was taken from a portrait by +Vandyke.</p> +<br> +<a name="AYTOUN_1"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8"><b>INCONSTANCY UPBRAIDED</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7">I loved thee once, I'll love no more;</p> +<p class="i8">Thine be the grief as is the blame:</p> +<p class="i7">Thou art not what thou wast before,</p> +<p class="i8">What reason I should be the same?</p> +<p class="i9">He that can love unloved again,</p> +<p class="i9">Hath better store of love than brain;</p> +<p class="i9">God send me love my debts to pay,</p> +<p class="i9">While unthrifts fool their love away.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7">Nothing could have my love o'erthrown,</p> +<p class="i8">If thou hadst still continued mine;</p> +<p class="i7">Yea, if thou hadst remained thy own,</p> +<p class="i8">I might perchance have yet been thine.</p> +<p class="i9">But thou thy freedom didst recall,</p> +<p class="i9">That it thou might elsewhere inthrall;</p> +<p class="i9">And then how could I but disdain</p> +<p class="i9">A captive's captive to remain?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7">When new desires had conquered thee,</p> +<p class="i8">And changed the object of thy will,</p> +<p class="i7">It had been lethargy in me,</p> +<p class="i8">Not constancy, to love thee still.</p> +<p class="i9">Yea, it had been a sin to go</p> +<p class="i9">And prostitute affection so;</p> +<p class="i9">Since we are taught no prayers to say</p> +<p class="i9">To such as must to others pray.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7">Yet do thou glory in thy choice,</p> +<p class="i8">Thy choice of his good fortune boast;</p> +<p class="i7">I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice</p> +<p class="i8">To see him gain what I have lost.</p> +<p class="i9">The height of my disdain shall be</p> +<p class="i9">To laugh at him, to blush for thee;</p> +<p class="i9">To love thee still, but go no more</p> +<p class="i9">A-begging to a beggar's door.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AYTOUN_2"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8"><b>LINES TO AN INCONSTANT MISTRESS</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7">I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair,</p> +<p class="i8">And I might have gone near to love thee,</p> +<p class="i7">Had I not found the slightest prayer</p> +<p class="i8">That lips could speak had power to move thee.</p> +<p class="i9">But I can let thee now alone,</p> +<p class="i9">As worthy to be loved by none.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7">I do confess thou'rt sweet, yet find</p> +<p class="i8">Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,</p> +<p class="i7">Thy favors are but like the wind</p> +<p class="i8">Which kisseth everything it meets!</p> +<p class="i9">And since thou canst love more than one,</p> +<p class="i9">Thou'rt worthy to be loved by none.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7">The morning rose that untouched stands,</p> +<p class="i8">Armed with her briers, how sweet she smells!</p> +<p class="i7">But plucked and strained through ruder hands,</p> +<p class="i8">Her scent no longer with her dwells.</p> +<p class="i9">But scent and beauty both are gone,</p> +<p class="i9">And leaves fall from her one by one.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7">Such fate ere long will thee betide,</p> +<p class="i8">When thou hast handled been awhile,</p> +<p class="i7">Like fair flowers to be thrown aside;</p> +<p class="i8">And thou shalt sigh while I shall smile,</p> +<p class="i9">To see thy love to every one</p> +<p class="i9">Hath brought thee to be loved by none.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8"><b>BURNS'S ADAPTATION</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8">I do confess thou art sae fair,</p> +<p class="i9">I wad been ower the lugs in love</p> +<p class="i8">Had I na found the slightest prayer</p> +<p class="i9">That lips could speak, thy heart could move.</p> +<p class="i8">I do confess thee sweet--but find</p> +<p class="i9">Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets,</p> +<p class="i8">Thy favors are the silly wind,</p> +<p class="i9">That kisses ilka thing it meets.</p> +<p class="i8">See yonder rosebud rich in dew,</p> +<p class="i9">Among its native briers sae coy,</p> +<p class="i8">How sune it tines its scent and hue</p> +<p class="i9">When pu'd and worn a common toy.</p> +<p class="i8">Sic fate, ere lang, shall thee betide,</p> +<p class="i9">Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile;</p> +<p class="i8">Yet sune thou shalt be thrown aside</p> +<p class="i9">Like any common weed and vile.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_EDMONSTOUNE_AYTOUN"></a>WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE +AYTOUN</h2> +<h3>(1813-1865)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-a.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>ytoun the second, balladist, humorist, and Tory, in proportions +of about equal importance,--one of the group of wits and devotees +of the <i>status quo</i> who made Blackwood's Magazine so famous in +its early days,--was born in Edinburgh, June 21st, 1813. He was the +son of Roger Aytoun, "writer to the Signet"; and a descendant of +Sir Robert Aytoun (1570-1638), the poet and friend of Ben Jonson, +who followed James VI. from Scotland and who is buried in +Westminster Abbey. Both Aytoun's parents were literary. His mother, +who knew Sir Walter Scott, and who gave Lockhart many details for +his biography, helped the lad in his poems. She seemed to him to +know all the ballads ever sung. His earliest verses were praised by +Professor John Wilson ("Christopher North"), the first editor of +Blackwood's, whose daughter he married in 1849. At the age of +nineteen he published his 'Poland, Homer, and Other Poems' +(Edinburgh, 1832). After leaving the University of Edinburgh, he +studied law in London, visited Germany, and returning to Scotland, +was called to the bar in 1840. He disliked the profession, and used +to say that though he followed the law he never could overtake +it.</p> +<p>While in Germany he translated the first part of 'Faust' in +blank verse, which was never published. Many of his translations +from Uhland and Homer appeared in Blackwood's from 1836 to 1840, +and many of his early writings were signed "Augustus Dunshunner." +In 1844 he joined the editorial staff of Blackwood's, to which for +many years he contributed political articles, verse, translations +of Goethe, and humorous sketches. In 1845 he became Professor of +Rhetoric and Literature in the University of Edinburgh, a place +which he held until 1864. About 1841 he became acquainted with +Theodore Martin, and in association with him wrote a series of +light papers interspersed with burlesque verses, which, reprinted +from Blackwood's, became popular as the 'Bon Gaultier Ballads.' +Published in London in 1855, they reached their thirteenth edition +in 1877.</p> +<blockquote>"Some papers of a humorous kind, which I had published +under the <i>nom de plume</i> of Bon Gaultier," says Theodore +Martin in his 'Memoir of Aytoun,' "had hit Aytoun's fancy; and when +I proposed to go on with others in a similar vein, he fell readily +into the plan, and agreed to assist in it. In this way a kind of a +Beaumont-and-Fletcher partnership commenced in a series of humorous +papers, which appeared in Tait's and Fraser's magazines from 1842 +to 1844. In these papers, in which we ran a-tilt, with all the +recklessness of youthful spirits, against such of the tastes or +follies of the day as presented an opening for ridicule or +mirth,--at the same time that we did not altogether lose sight of a +purpose higher than mere amusement,--appeared the verses, with a +few exceptions, which subsequently became popular, and to a degree +we then little contemplated, as the 'Bon Gaultier Ballads.' Some of +the best of these were exclusively Aytoun's, such as 'The Massacre +of the McPherson,' 'The Rhyme of Sir Launcelot Bogle,' 'The Broken +Pitcher,' 'The Red Friar and Little John,' 'The Lay of Mr. Colt,' +and that best of all imitations of the Scottish ballad, 'The Queen +in France.' Some were wholly mine, and the rest were produced by us +jointly. Fortunately for our purpose, there were then living not a +few poets whose style and manner of thought were sufficiently +marked to make imitation easy, and sufficiently popular for a +parody of their characteristics to be readily recognized. +Macaulay's 'Lays of Rome' and his two other fine ballads were still +in the freshness of their fame. Lockhart's 'Spanish Ballads' were +as familiar in the drawing-room as in the study. Tennyson and Mrs. +Browning were opening up new veins of poetry. These, with +Wordsworth, Moore, Uhland, and others of minor note, lay ready to +our hands,--as Scott, Byron, Crabbe, Coleridge, Wordsworth, and +Southey had done to James and Horace Smith in 1812, when writing +the 'Rejected Addresses.' Never, probably, were verses thrown off +with a keener sense of enjoyment."</blockquote> +<p>With Theodore Martin he published also 'Poems and Ballads of +Goethe' (London, 1858). Mr. Aytoun's fame as a poet rests on his +'Lays of the Cavaliers,' the themes of which are selected from +stirring incidents of Scottish history, ranging from Flodden Field +to the Battle of Culloden. The favorites in popular memory are 'The +Execution of Montrose' and 'The Burial March of Dundee.' This book, +published in London and Edinburgh in 1849, has gone through +twenty-nine editions.</p> +<p>His dramatic poem, 'Firmilian: a Spasmodic Tragedy,' written to +ridicule the style of Bailey, Dobell, and Alexander Smith, and +published in 1854, had so many excellent qualities that it was +received as a serious production instead of a caricature. Aytoun +introduced this in Blackwood's Magazine as a pretended review of an +unpublished tragedy (as with the 'Rolliad,' and as Lockhart had +done in the case of "Peter's Letters," so successfully that he had +to write the book itself as a "second edition" to answer the demand +for it). This review was so cleverly done that "most of the +newspaper critics took the part of the poet against the reviewer, +never suspecting the identity of both, and maintained the poetry to +be fine poetry and the critic a dunce." The sarcasm of 'Firmilian' +is so delicate that only those familiar with the school it is +intended to satirize can fairly appreciate its qualities. The drama +opens showing Firmilian in his study, planning the composition of +'Cain: a Tragedy'; and being infused with the spirit of the hero, +he starts on a career of crime. Among his deeds is the destruction +of the cathedral of Badajoz, which first appears in his mental +vision thus:--</p> +<blockquote>"Methought I saw the solid vaults give way,<br> +And the entire cathedral rise in air,<br> +As if it leaped from Pandemonium's jaws."</blockquote> +<p>To effect this he employs--</p> +<blockquote>"Some twenty barrels of the dusky grain<br> +The secret of whose framing in an hour<br> +Of diabolic jollity and mirth<br> +Old Roger Bacon wormed from Beelzebub."</blockquote> +<p>When the horror is accomplished, at a moment when the +inhabitants of Badajoz are at prayer, Firmilian rather enjoys the +scene:--</p> +<blockquote>"Pillars and altar, organ loft and screen,<br> +With a singed swarm of mortals intermixed,<br> +Whirling in anguish to the shuddering stars."</blockquote> +<p>"'Firmilian,'" to quote from Aytoun's biographer again, +"deserves to keep its place in literature, if only as showing how +easy it is for a man of real poetic power to throw off, in sport, +pages of sonorous and sparkling verse, simply by ignoring the +fetters of nature and common-sense and dashing headlong on Pegasus +through the wilderness of fancy." Its extravagances of rhetoric can +be imagined from the following brief extract, somewhat reminiscent +of Marlowe:--</p> +<blockquote>"And shall I then take Celsus for my guide,<br> +Confound my brain with dull Justinian tomes,<br> +Or stir the dust that lies o'er Augustine?<br> +Not I, in faith! I've leaped into the air,<br> +And clove my way through ether like a bird<br> +That flits beneath the glimpses of the moon,<br> +Right eastward, till I lighted at the foot<br> +Of holy Helicon, and drank my fill<br> +At the clear spout of Aganippe's stream;<br> +I've rolled my limbs in ecstasy along<br> +The selfsame turf on which old Homer lay<br> +That night he dreamed of Helen and of Troy:<br> +And I have heard, at midnight, the sweet strains<br> +Come quiring from the hilltop, where, enshrined<br> +In the rich foldings of a silver cloud,<br> +The Muses sang Apollo into sleep."</blockquote> +<p>In 1856 was printed 'Bothwell,' a poetic monologue on Mary +Stuart's lover. Of Aytoun's humorous sketches, the most humorous +are 'My First Spec in the Biggleswades,' and 'How We Got Up the +Glen Mutchkin Railway'; tales written during the railway mania of +1845, which treat of the folly and dishonesty of its promoters, and +show many typical Scottish characters. His 'Ballads of Scotland' +was issued in 1858; it is an edition of the best ancient +minstrelsy, with preface and notes. In 1861 appeared 'Norman +Sinclair,' a novel published first in Blackwood's, and giving +interesting pictures of society in Scotland and personal +experiences.</p> +<p>After Professor Wilson's death, Aytoun was considered the +leading man of letters in Scotland; a rank which he modestly +accepted by writing in 1838 to a friend:--"I am getting a kind of +fame as the literary man of Scotland. Thirty years ago, in the +North countries, a fellow achieved an immense reputation as 'The +Tollman,' being the solitary individual entitled by law to levy +blackmail at a ferry." In 1860 he was made Honorary President of +the Associated Societies of the University of Edinburgh, his +competitor being Thackeray. This was the place held afterward by +Lord Lytton, Sir David Brewster, Carlyle, and Gladstone. Aytoun +wrote the 'The Life and Times of Richard the First' (London, 1840), +and in 1863 a 'Nuptial Ode on the Marriage of the Prince of +Wales.'</p> +<p>Aytoun was a man of great charm and geniality in society; even +to Americans, though he detested America with the energy of +fear--the fear of all who see its prosperity sapping the +foundations of their class society. He died in 1865; and in 1867 +his biography was published by Sir Theodore Martin, his +collaborator. Martin's definition of Aytoun's place in literature +is felicitous:--</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"Fashions in poetry may alter, but so long as the themes with +which they deal have an interest for his countrymen, his 'Lays' +will find, as they do now, a wide circle of admirers. His powers as +a humorist were perhaps greater than as a poet. They have certainly +been more widely appreciated. His immediate contemporaries owe him +much, for he has contributed largely to that kindly mirth without +which the strain and struggle of modern life would be intolerable. +Much that is excellent in his humorous writings may very possibly +cease to retain a place in literature from the circumstance that he +deals with characters and peculiarities which are in some measure +local, and phases of life and feeling and literature which are more +or less ephemeral. But much will certainly continue to be read and +enjoyed by the sons and grandsons of those for whom it was +originally written; and his name will be coupled with those of +Wilson, Lockhart, Sydney Smith, Peacock, Jerrold, Mahony, and Hood, +as that of a man gifted with humor as genuine and original as +theirs, however opinions may vary as to the order of their relative +merits."</p> +<p>'The Modern Endymion,' from which an extract is given, is a +parody on Disraeli's earlier manner.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AYTOUN_3"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"><b>THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEE</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">From the 'Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers'</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">I</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Sound the fife and cry the slogan;</p> +<p class="i4">Let the pibroch shake the air</p> +<p class="i3">With its wild, triumphant music,</p> +<p class="i4">Worthy of the freight we bear.</p> +<p class="i3">Let the ancient hills of Scotland</p> +<p class="i4">Hear once more the battle-song</p> +<p class="i3">Swell within their glens and valleys</p> +<p class="i4">As the clansmen march along!</p> +<p class="i3">Never from the field of combat,</p> +<p class="i4">Never from the deadly fray,</p> +<p class="i3">Was a nobler trophy carried</p> +<p class="i4">Than we bring with us to-day;</p> +<p class="i3">Never since the valiant Douglas</p> +<p class="i4">On his dauntless bosom bore</p> +<p class="i3">Good King Robert's heart--the priceless--</p> +<p class="i4">To our dear Redeemer's shore!</p> +<p class="i3">Lo! we bring with us the hero--</p> +<p class="i4">Lo! we bring the conquering Graeme,</p> +<p class="i3">Crowned as best beseems a victor</p> +<p class="i4">From the altar of his fame;</p> +<p class="i3">Fresh and bleeding from the battle</p> +<p class="i4">Whence his spirit took its flight,</p> +<p class="i3">'Midst the crashing charge of squadrons,</p> +<p class="i4">And the thunder of the fight!</p> +<p class="i3">Strike, I say, the notes of triumph,</p> +<p class="i4">As we march o'er moor and lea!</p> +<p class="i3">Is there any here will venture</p> +<p class="i4">To bewail our dead Dundee?</p> +<p class="i3">Let the widows of the traitors</p> +<p class="i4">Weep until their eyes are dim!</p> +<p class="i3">Wail ye may full well for Scotland--</p> +<p class="i4">Let none dare to mourn for him!</p> +<p class="i3">See! above his glorious body</p> +<p class="i4">Lies the royal banner's fold--</p> +<p class="i3">See! his valiant blood is mingled</p> +<p class="i4">With its crimson and its gold.</p> +<p class="i3">See how calm he looks and stately,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a warrior on his shield,</p> +<p class="i3">Waiting till the flush of morning</p> +<p class="i4">Breaks along the battle-field!</p> +<p class="i3">See--oh, never more, my comrades,</p> +<p class="i4">Shall we see that falcon eye</p> +<p class="i3">Redden with its inward lightning,</p> +<p class="i4">As the hour of fight drew nigh!</p> +<p class="i3">Never shall we hear the voice that,</p> +<p class="i4">Clearer than the trumpet's call,</p> +<p class="i3">Bade us strike for king and country,</p> +<p class="i4">Bade us win the field, or fall!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">II</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">On the heights of Killiecrankie</p> +<p class="i4">Yester-morn our army lay:</p> +<p class="i3">Slowly rose the mist in columns</p> +<p class="i4">From the river's broken way;</p> +<p class="i3">Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent,</p> +<p class="i4">And the Pass was wrapped in gloom,</p> +<p class="i3">When the clansmen rose together</p> +<p class="i4">From their lair amidst the broom.</p> +<p class="i3">Then we belted on our tartans,</p> +<p class="i4">And our bonnets down we drew,</p> +<p class="i3">As we felt our broadswords' edges,</p> +<p class="i4">And we proved them to be true;</p> +<p class="i3">And we prayed the prayer of soldiers,</p> +<p class="i4">And we cried the gathering-cry,</p> +<p class="i3">And we clasped the hands of kinsmen,</p> +<p class="i4">And we swore to do or die!</p> +<p class="i3">Then our leader rode before us,</p> +<p class="i4">On his war-horse black as night--</p> +<p class="i3">Well the Cameronian rebels</p> +<p class="i4">Knew that charger in the fight!--</p> +<p class="i3">And a cry of exultation</p> +<p class="i4">From the bearded warrior rose;</p> +<p class="i3">For we loved the house of Claver'se,</p> +<p class="i4">And we thought of good Montrose.</p> +<p class="i3">But he raised his hand for silence--</p> +<p class="i4">"Soldiers! I have sworn a vow;</p> +<p class="i3">Ere the evening star shall glisten</p> +<p class="i4">On Schehallion's lofty brow,</p> +<p class="i3">Either we shall rest in triumph,</p> +<p class="i4">Or another of the Graemes</p> +<p class="i3">Shall have died in battle-harness</p> +<p class="i4">For his country and King James!</p> +<p class="i3">Think upon the royal martyr--</p> +<p class="i4">Think of what his race endure--</p> +<p class="i3">Think on him whom butchers murdered</p> +<p class="i4">On the field of Magus Muir<a name= +"FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1">[1]</a>:</p> +<p class="i3">By his sacred blood I charge ye,</p> +<p class="i4">By the ruined hearth and shrine--</p> +<p class="i3">By the blighted hopes of Scotland,</p> +<p class="i4">By your injuries and mine--</p> +<p class="i3">Strike this day as if the anvil</p> +<p class="i4">Lay beneath your blows the while,</p> +<p class="i3">Be they Covenanting traitors,</p> +<p class="i4">Or the blood of false Argyle!</p> +<p class="i3">Strike! and drive the trembling rebels</p> +<p class="i4">Backwards o'er the stormy Forth;</p> +<p class="i3">Let them tell their pale Convention</p> +<p class="i4">How they fared within the North.</p> +<p class="i3">Let them tell that Highland honor</p> +<p class="i4">Is not to be bought nor sold;</p> +<p class="i3">That we scorn their prince's anger,</p> +<p class="i4">As we loathe his foreign gold.</p> +<p class="i3">Strike! and when the fight is over,</p> +<p class="i4">If you look in vain for me,</p> +<p class="i3">Where the dead are lying thickest</p> +<p class="i4">Search for him that was Dundee!"</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a> +Archbishop Sharp, Lord Primate of Scotland.</blockquote> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">III</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Loudly then the hills re-echoed</p> +<p class="i4">With our answer to his call,</p> +<p class="i3">But a deeper echo sounded</p> +<p class="i4">In the bosoms of us all.</p> +<p class="i3">For the lands of wide Breadalbane,</p> +<p class="i4">Not a man who heard him speak</p> +<p class="i3">Would that day have left the battle.</p> +<p class="i4">Burning eye and flushing cheek</p> +<p class="i3">Told the clansmen's fierce emotion,</p> +<p class="i4">And they harder drew their breath;</p> +<p class="i3">For their souls were strong within them,</p> +<p class="i4">Stronger than the grasp of Death.</p> +<p class="i3">Soon we heard a challenge trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">Sounding in the Pass below,</p> +<p class="i3">And the distant tramp of horses,</p> +<p class="i4">And the voices of the foe;</p> +<p class="i3">Down we crouched amid the bracken,</p> +<p class="i4">Till the Lowland ranks drew near,</p> +<p class="i3">Panting like the hounds in summer,</p> +<p class="i4">When they scent the stately deer.</p> +<p class="i3">From the dark defile emerging,</p> +<p class="i4">Next we saw the squadrons come,</p> +<p class="i3">Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers</p> +<p class="i4">Marching to the tuck of drum;</p> +<p class="i3">Through the scattered wood of birches,</p> +<p class="i4">O'er the broken ground and heath,</p> +<p class="i3">Wound the long battalion slowly,</p> +<p class="i4">Till they gained the field beneath;</p> +<p class="i3">Then we bounded from our covert,--</p> +<p class="i4">Judge how looked the Saxons then,</p> +<p class="i3">When they saw the rugged mountain</p> +<p class="i4">Start to life with armèd men!</p> +<p class="i3">Like a tempest down the ridges</p> +<p class="i4">Swept the hurricane of steel,</p> +<p class="i3">Rose the slogan of Macdonald--</p> +<p class="i4">Flashed the broadsword of Lochiel!</p> +<p class="i3">Vainly sped the withering volley</p> +<p class="i4">'Mongst the foremost of our band--</p> +<p class="i3">On we poured until we met them</p> +<p class="i4">Foot to foot and hand to hand.</p> +<p class="i3">Horse and man went down like drift-wood</p> +<p class="i4">When the floods are black at Yule,</p> +<p class="i3">And their carcasses are whirling</p> +<p class="i4">In the Garry's deepest pool.</p> +<p class="i3">Horse and man went down before us--</p> +<p class="i4">Living foe there tarried none</p> +<p class="i3">On the field of Killiecrankie,</p> +<p class="i4">When that stubborn fight was done!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">IV</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And the evening star was shining</p> +<p class="i4">On Schehallion's distant head,</p> +<p class="i3">When we wiped our bloody broadswords,</p> +<p class="i4">And returned to count the dead.</p> +<p class="i3">There we found him gashed and gory,</p> +<p class="i4">Stretched upon the cumbered plain,</p> +<p class="i3">As he told us where to seek him,</p> +<p class="i4">In the thickest of the slain.</p> +<p class="i3">And a smile was on his visage,</p> +<p class="i4">For within his dying ear</p> +<p class="i3">Pealed the joyful note of triumph</p> +<p class="i4">And the clansmen's clamorous cheer:</p> +<p class="i3">So, amidst the battle's thunder,</p> +<p class="i4">Shot, and steel, and scorching flame,</p> +<p class="i3">In the glory of his manhood</p> +<p class="i4">Passed the spirit of the Graeme!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">V</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Open wide the vaults of Athol,</p> +<p class="i4">Where the bones of heroes rest--</p> +<p class="i3">Open wide the hallowed portals</p> +<p class="i4">To receive another guest!</p> +<p class="i3">Last of Scots, and last of freemen--</p> +<p class="i4">Last of all that dauntless race</p> +<p class="i3">Who would rather die unsullied,</p> +<p class="i4">Than outlive the land's disgrace!</p> +<p class="i3">O thou lion-hearted warrior!</p> +<p class="i4">Reck not of the after-time:</p> +<p class="i3">Honor may be deemed dishonor,</p> +<p class="i4">Loyalty be called a crime.</p> +<p class="i3">Sleep in peace with kindred ashes</p> +<p class="i4">Of the noble and the true,</p> +<p class="i3">Hands that never failed their country,</p> +<p class="i4">Hearts that never baseness knew.</p> +<p class="i3">Sleep!--and till the latest trumpet</p> +<p class="i4">Wakes the dead from earth and sea,</p> +<p class="i3">Scotland shall not boast a braver</p> +<p class="i4">Chieftain than our own Dundee!</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AYTOUN_4"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"><b>THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">From 'Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers'</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Come hither, Evan Cameron!</p> +<p class="i4">Come, stand beside my knee--</p> +<p class="i3">I hear the river roaring down</p> +<p class="i4">Toward the wintry sea.</p> +<p class="i3">There's shouting on the mountain-side,</p> +<p class="i4">There's war within the blast--</p> +<p class="i3">Old faces look upon me,</p> +<p class="i4">Old forms go trooping past.</p> +<p class="i3">I hear the pibroch wailing</p> +<p class="i4">Amidst the din of fight,</p> +<p class="i3">And my dim spirit wakes again</p> +<p class="i4">Upon the verge of night.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">'Twas I that led the Highland host</p> +<p class="i4">Through wild Lochaber's snows,</p> +<p class="i3">What time the plaided clans came down</p> +<p class="i4">To battle with Montrose.</p> +<p class="i3">I've told thee how the Southrons fell</p> +<p class="i4">Beneath the broad claymore,</p> +<p class="i3">And how we smote the Campbell clan</p> +<p class="i4">By Inverlochy's shore;</p> +<p class="i3">I've told thee how we swept Dundee,</p> +<p class="i4">And tamed the Lindsays' pride:</p> +<p class="i3">But never have I told thee yet</p> +<p class="i4">How the great Marquis died.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">A traitor sold him to his foes;--</p> +<p class="i4">A deed of deathless shame!</p> +<p class="i3">I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet</p> +<p class="i4">With one of Assynt's name,--</p> +<p class="i3">Be it upon the mountain's side</p> +<p class="i4">Or yet within the glen,</p> +<p class="i3">Stand he in martial gear alone,</p> +<p class="i4">Or backed by arméd men,--</p> +<p class="i3">Face him, as thou wouldst face the man</p> +<p class="i4">Who wronged thy sire's renown;</p> +<p class="i3">Remember of what blood thou art,</p> +<p class="i4">And strike the caitiff down!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">They brought him to the Watergate,</p> +<p class="i4">Hard bound with hempen span,</p> +<p class="i3">As though they held a lion there,</p> +<p class="i4">And not a fenceless man.</p> +<p class="i3">They set him high upon a cart,--</p> +<p class="i4">The hangman rode below,--</p> +<p class="i3">They drew his hands behind his back</p> +<p class="i4">And bared his noble brow.</p> +<p class="i3">Then, as a hound is slipped from leash,</p> +<p class="i4">They cheered, the common throng,</p> +<p class="i3">And blew the note with yell and shout,</p> +<p class="i4">And bade him pass along.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">It would have made a brave man's heart</p> +<p class="i4">Grow sad and sick that day,</p> +<p class="i3">To watch the keen malignant eyes</p> +<p class="i4">Bent down on that array.</p> +<p class="i3">There stood the Whig West-country lords</p> +<p class="i4">In balcony and bow;</p> +<p class="i3">There sat their gaunt and withered dames,</p> +<p class="i4">And their daughters all arow.</p> +<p class="i3">And every open window</p> +<p class="i4">Was full as full might be</p> +<p class="i3">With black-robed Covenanting carles,</p> +<p class="i4">That goodly sport to see!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">But when he came, though pale and wan,</p> +<p class="i4">He looked so great and high,</p> +<p class="i3">So noble was his manly front,</p> +<p class="i4">So calm his steadfast eye,--</p> +<p class="i3">The rabble rout forbore to shout,</p> +<p class="i4">And each man held his breath,</p> +<p class="i3">For well they knew the hero's soul</p> +<p class="i4">Was face to face with death.</p> +<p class="i3">And then a mournful shudder</p> +<p class="i4">Through all the people crept,</p> +<p class="i3">And some that came to scoff at him</p> +<p class="i4">Now turned aside and wept.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">But onwards--always onwards,</p> +<p class="i4">In silence and in gloom,</p> +<p class="i3">The dreary pageant labored,</p> +<p class="i4">Till it reached the house of doom.</p> +<p class="i3">Then first a woman's voice was heard</p> +<p class="i4">In jeer and laughter loud,</p> +<p class="i3">And an angry cry and hiss arose</p> +<p class="i4">From the heart of the tossing crowd;</p> +<p class="i3">Then, as the Graeme looked upwards,</p> +<p class="i4">He saw the ugly smile</p> +<p class="i3">Of him who sold his king for gold--</p> +<p class="i4">The master-fiend Argyle!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">The Marquis gazed a moment,</p> +<p class="i4">And nothing did he say,</p> +<p class="i3">But the cheek of Argyle grew ghastly pale,</p> +<p class="i4">And he turned his eyes away.</p> +<p class="i3">The painted harlot by his side,</p> +<p class="i4">She shook through every limb,</p> +<p class="i3">For a roar like thunder swept the street,</p> +<p class="i4">And hands were clenched at him;</p> +<p class="i3">And a Saxon soldier cried aloud,</p> +<p class="i4">"Back, coward, from thy place!</p> +<p class="i3">For seven long years thou hast not dared</p> +<p class="i4">To look him in the face."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Had I been there with sword in hand,</p> +<p class="i4">And fifty Camerons by,</p> +<p class="i3">That day through high Dunedin's streets</p> +<p class="i4">Had pealed the slogan-cry.</p> +<p class="i3">Not all their troops of trampling horse,</p> +<p class="i4">Nor might of mailèd men--</p> +<p class="i3">Not all the rebels in the South</p> +<p class="i4">Had borne us backward then!</p> +<p class="i3">Once more his foot on Highland heath</p> +<p class="i4">Had trod as free as air,</p> +<p class="i3">Or I, and all who bore my name,</p> +<p class="i4">Been laid around him there!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">It might not be. They placed him next</p> +<p class="i4">Within the solemn hall,</p> +<p class="i3">Where once the Scottish kings were throned</p> +<p class="i4">Amidst their nobles all.</p> +<p class="i3">But there was dust of vulgar feet</p> +<p class="i4">On that polluted floor,</p> +<p class="i3">And perjured traitors filled the place</p> +<p class="i4">Where good men sate before.</p> +<p class="i3">With savage glee came Warriston</p> +<p class="i4">To read the murderous doom;</p> +<p class="i3">And then uprose the great Montrose</p> +<p class="i4">In the middle of the room.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">"Now, by my faith as belted knight,</p> +<p class="i4">And by the name I bear,</p> +<p class="i3">And by the bright Saint Andrew's cross</p> +<p class="i4">That waves above us there,--</p> +<p class="i3">Yea, by a greater, mightier oath--</p> +<p class="i4">And oh, that such should be!--By</p> +<p class="i3">that dark stream of royal blood</p> +<p class="i4">That lies 'twixt you and me,--</p> +<p class="i3">have not sought in battle-field</p> +<p class="i4">A wreath of such renown,</p> +<p class="i3">Nor dared I hope on my dying day</p> +<p class="i4">To win the martyr's crown.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">"There is a chamber far away</p> +<p class="i4">Where sleep the good and brave,</p> +<p class="i3">But a better place ye have named for me</p> +<p class="i4">Than by my father's grave.</p> +<p class="i3">For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might,</p> +<p class="i4">This hand hath always striven,</p> +<p class="i3">And ye raise it up for a witness still</p> +<p class="i4">In the eye of earth and heaven.</p> +<p class="i3">Then nail my head on yonder tower--</p> +<p class="i4">Give every town a limb--And</p> +<p class="i3">God who made shall gather them:</p> +<p class="i4">I go from you to Him!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">The morning dawned full darkly,</p> +<p class="i4">The rain came flashing down,</p> +<p class="i3">And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt</p> +<p class="i4">Lit up the gloomy town.</p> +<p class="i3">The thunder crashed across the heaven,</p> +<p class="i4">The fatal hour was come;</p> +<p class="i3">Yet aye broke in, with muffled beat,</p> +<p class="i4">The larum of the drum.</p> +<p class="i3">There was madness on the earth below</p> +<p class="i4">And anger in the sky,</p> +<p class="i3">And young and old, and rich and poor,</p> +<p class="i4">Come forth to see him die.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Ah, God! that ghastly gibbet!</p> +<p class="i4">How dismal 'tis to see</p> +<p class="i3">The great tall spectral skeleton,</p> +<p class="i4">The ladder and the tree!</p> +<p class="i3">Hark! hark! it is the clash of arms--</p> +<p class="i4">The bells begin to toll--</p> +<p class="i3">"He is coming! he is coming!</p> +<p class="i4">God's mercy on his soul!"</p> +<p class="i3">One long last peal of thunder--</p> +<p class="i4">The clouds are cleared away,</p> +<p class="i3">And the glorious sun once more looks down</p> +<p class="i4">Amidst the dazzling day.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">"He is coming! he is coming!"</p> +<p class="i4">Like a bridegroom from his room,</p> +<p class="i3">Came the hero from his prison,</p> +<p class="i4">To the scaffold and the doom.</p> +<p class="i3">There was glory on his forehead,</p> +<p class="i4">There was lustre in his eye,</p> +<p class="i3">And he never walked to battle</p> +<p class="i4">More proudly than to die;</p> +<p class="i3">There was color in his visage,</p> +<p class="i4">Though the cheeks of all were wan,</p> +<p class="i3">And they marveled as they saw him pass,</p> +<p class="i4">That great and goodly man!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">He mounted up the scaffold,</p> +<p class="i4">And he turned him to the crowd;</p> +<p class="i3">But they dared not trust the people,</p> +<p class="i4">So he might not speak aloud.</p> +<p class="i3">But looked upon the heavens</p> +<p class="i4">And they were clear and blue,</p> +<p class="i3">And in the liquid ether</p> +<p class="i4">The eye of God shone through:</p> +<p class="i3">Yet a black and murky battlement</p> +<p class="i4">Lay resting on the hill,</p> +<p class="i3">As though the thunder slept within--</p> +<p class="i4">All else was calm and still.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">The grim Geneva ministers</p> +<p class="i4">With anxious scowl drew near,</p> +<p class="i3">As you have seen the ravens flock</p> +<p class="i4">Around the dying deer.</p> +<p class="i3">He would not deign them word nor sign,</p> +<p class="i4">But alone he bent the knee,</p> +<p class="i3">And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace</p> +<p class="i4">Beneath the gallows-tree.</p> +<p class="i3">Then radiant and serene he rose,</p> +<p class="i4">And cast his cloak away;</p> +<p class="i3">For he had ta'en his latest look</p> +<p class="i4">Of earth and sun and day.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">A beam of light fell o'er him,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a glory round the shriven,</p> +<p class="i3">And he climbed the lofty ladder</p> +<p class="i4">As it were the path to heaven.</p> +<p class="i3">Then came a flash from out the cloud,</p> +<p class="i4">And a stunning thunder-roll;</p> +<p class="i3">And no man dared to look aloft,</p> +<p class="i4">For fear was on every soul.</p> +<p class="i3">There was another heavy sound,</p> +<p class="i4">A hush and then a groan;</p> +<p class="i3">And darkness swept across the sky--</p> +<p class="i4">The work of death was done!</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AYTOUN_5"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3"><b>THE BROKEN PITCHER</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">From the 'Bon Gaultier Ballads'</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It was a Moorish maiden was sitting by a well,</p> +<p>And what that maiden thought of, I cannot, cannot tell,</p> +<p>When by there rode a valiant knight, from the town of +Oviedo--</p> +<p>Alphonso Guzman was he hight, the Count of Desparedo.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"O maiden, Moorish maiden! why sitt'st thou by the spring?</p> +<p>Say, dost thou seek a lover, or any other thing?</p> +<p>Why gazest thou upon me, with eyes so large and wide,</p> +<p>And wherefore doth the pitcher lie broken by thy side?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I do not seek a lover, thou Christian knight so gay,</p> +<p>Because an article like that hath never come my way;</p> +<p>But why I gaze upon you, I cannot, cannot tell,</p> +<p>Except that in your iron hose you look uncommon swell.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"My pitcher it is broken, and this the reason is--</p> +<p>A shepherd came behind me, and tried to snatch a kiss;</p> +<p>I would not stand his nonsense, so ne'er a word I spoke,</p> +<p>But scored him on the costard, and so the jug was broke.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"My uncle, the Alcaydè, he waits for me at home,</p> +<p>And will not take his tumbler until Zorayda come.</p> +<p>I cannot bring him water,--the pitcher is in pieces;</p> +<p>And so I'm sure to catch it, 'cos he wallops all his nieces.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"O maiden, Moorish maiden! wilt thou be ruled by me?</p> +<p>So wipe thine eyes and rosy lips, and give me kisses three;</p> +<p>And I'll give thee my helmet, thou kind and courteous lady,</p> +<p>To carry home the water to thy uncle, the Alcaydè."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He lighted down from off his steed--he tied him to a tree--</p> +<p>He bowed him to the maiden, and took his kisses three:</p> +<p>"To wrong thee, sweet Zorayda, I swear would be a sin!"</p> +<p>He knelt him at the fountain, and dipped his helmet in.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Up rose the Moorish maiden--behind the knight she steals,</p> +<p>And caught Alphonso Guzman up tightly by the heels;</p> +<p>She tipped him in, and held him down beneath the bubbling +water,--</p> +<p>"Now, take thou that for venturing to kiss Al Hamet's +daughter!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A Christian maid is weeping in the town of Oviedo;</p> +<p>She waits the coming of her love, the Count of Desparedo.</p> +<p>I pray you all in charity, that you will never tell</p> +<p>How he met the Moorish maiden beside the lonely well.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AYTOUN_6"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>SONNET TO BRITAIN</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">"BY THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Halt! Shoulder arms! Recover! As you were!</p> +<p class="i3">Right wheel! Eyes left! Attention! Stand at ease!</p> +<p class="i3">O Britain! O my country! Words like these</p> +<p class="i2">Have made thy name a terror and a fear</p> +<p class="i2">To all the nations. Witness Ebro's banks,</p> +<p class="i3">Assaye, Toulouse, Nivelle, and Waterloo,</p> +<p class="i3">Where the grim despot muttered, <i>Sauve qui +pent!</i></p> +<p class="i2">And Ney fled darkling.--Silence in the ranks!</p> +<p class="i2">Inspired by these, amidst the iron crash</p> +<p class="i3">Of armies, in the centre of his troop</p> +<p class="i2">The soldier stands--unmovable, not rash--</p> +<p class="i3">Until the forces of the foemen droop;</p> +<p class="i2">Then knocks the Frenchmen to eternal smash,</p> +<p class="i3">Pounding them into mummy. Shoulder, hoop!</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="AYTOUN_7"></a> +<h3>A BALL IN THE UPPER CIRCLES</h3> +<center>From "The Modern Endymion"</center> +<p>'Twas a hot season in the skies. Sirius held the ascendant, and +under his influence even the radiant band of the Celestials began +to droop, while the great ball-room of Olympus grew gradually more +and more deserted. For nearly a week had Orpheus, the leader of the +heavenly orchestra, played to a deserted floor. The +<i>élite</i> would no longer figure in the waltz.</p> +<p>Juno obstinately kept her room, complaining of headache and +ill-temper. Ceres, who had lately joined a dissenting congregation, +objected generally to all frivolous amusements; and Minerva had +established, in opposition, a series of literary soirees, at which +Pluto nightly lectured on the fine arts and phrenology, to a +brilliant and fashionable audience. The Muses, with Hebe and some +of the younger deities, alone frequented the assemblies; but with +all their attractions there was still a sad lack of partners. The +younger gods had of late become remarkably dissipated, messed three +times a week at least with Mars in the barracks, and seldom +separated sober. Bacchus had been sent to Coventry by the ladies, +for appearing one night in the ball-room, after a hard sederunt, so +drunk that he measured his length upon the floor after a vain +attempt at a mazurka; and they likewise eschewed the company of +Pan, who had become an abandoned smoker, and always smelt +infamously of cheroots. But the most serious defection, as also the +most unaccountable, was that of the beautiful Diana, <i>par +excellence</i> the belle of the season, and assuredly the most +graceful nymph that ever tripped along the halls of heaven. She had +gone off suddenly to the country, without alleging any intelligible +excuse, and with her the last attraction of the ball-room seemed to +have disappeared. Even Venus, the perpetual lady patroness, saw +that the affair was desperate.</p> +<p>"Ganymede, <i>mon beau garcon</i>," said she, one evening at an +unusually thin assembly, "we must really give it up at last. +Matters are growing worse and worse, and in another week we shall +positively not have enough to get up a tolerable gallopade. Look at +these seven poor Muses sitting together on the sofa. Not a soul has +spoken to them to-night, except that horrid Silenus, who dances +nothing but Scotch reels."</p> +<p>"<i>Pardieu!</i>" replied the young Trojan, fixing his glass in +his eye. "There may be a reason for that. The girls are decidedly +<i>passées</i>, and most inveterate blues. But there's dear +little Hebe, who never wants partners, though that clumsy Hercules +insists upon his conjugal rights, and keeps moving after her like +an enormous shadow. 'Pon my soul, I've a great mind--Do you think, +<i>ma belle tante</i>, that anything might be done in that +quarter?"</p> +<p>"Oh fie, Ganymede--fie for shame!" said Flora, who was sitting +close to the Queen of Love, and overheard the conversation. "You +horrid, naughty man, how can you talk so?"</p> +<p>"<i>Pardon, ma chère</i>!" replied the exquisite with a +languid smile. "You must excuse my <i>badinage</i>; and indeed, a +glance of your fair eyes were enough at any time to recall me to my +senses. By the way, what a beautiful <i>bouquet</i> you have there. +<i>Parole d'honneur</i>, I am quite jealous. May I ask who sent +it?"</p> +<p>"What a goose you are!" said Flora, in evident confusion: "how +should I know? Some general admirer like yourself, I suppose."</p> +<p>"Apollo is remarkably fond of hyacinths, I believe," said +Ganymede, looking significantly at Venus. "Ah, well! I see how it +is. We poor detrimentals must break our hearts in silence. It is +clear we have no chance with the <i>preux chevalier</i> of +heaven."</p> +<p>"Really, Ganymede, you are very severe this evening," said Venus +with a smile; "but tell me, have you heard anything of Diana?"</p> +<p>"Ah! <i>la belle Diane</i>? They say she is living in the +country somewhere about Caria, at a place they call Latmos Cottage, +cultivating her faded roses--what a color Hebe has!--and studying +the sentimental."</p> +<p>"<i>Tant pis</i>! She is a great loss to us," said Venus. +"Apropos, you will be at Neptune's <i>fête +champétre</i> to-morrow, <i>n'est ce pas?</i> We shall then +finally determine about abandoning the assemblies. But I must go +home now. The carriage has been waiting this hour, and my doves may +catch cold. I suppose that boy Cupid will not be home till all +hours of the morning."</p> +<p>"Why, I believe the Rainbow Club <i>does</i> meet to-night, +after the dancing," said Ganymede significantly. "This is the last +oyster-night of the season."</p> +<p>"Gracious goodness! The boy will be quite tipsy," said Venus. +"Do, dear Ganymede! try to keep him sober. But now, give me your +arm to the cloak-room."</p> +<p>"<i>Volontiers</i>!" said the exquisite.</p> +<p>As Venus rose to go, there was a rush of persons to the further +end of the room, and the music ceased. Presently, two or three +voices were heard calling for Aesculapius.</p> +<p>"What's the row?" asked that learned individual, advancing +leisurely from the refreshment table, where he had been cramming +himself with tea and cakes.</p> +<p>"Leda's fainted!" shrieked Calliope, who rushed past with her +vinaigrette in hand.</p> +<p>"<i>Gammon</i>!" growled the Abernethy of heaven, as he followed +her.</p> +<p>"Poor Leda!" said Venus, as her cavalier adjusted her shawl. +"These fainting fits are decidedly alarming. I hope it is nothing +more serious than the weather."</p> +<p>"I hope so, too," said Ganymede. "Let me put on the scarf. But +people will talk. Pray heaven it be not a second edition of that +old scandal about the eggs!"</p> +<p>"<i>Fi done</i>! You odious creature! How can you? But after +all, stranger things have happened. There now, have done. +Good-night!" and she stepped into her chariot.</p> +<p>"<i>Bon soir</i>" said the exquisite, kissing his hand as it +rolled away. "'Pon my soul, that's a splendid woman. I've a great +mind--but there's no hurry about that. <i>Revenons à nos +oeufs.</i> I must learn something more about this fainting fit." So +saying, Ganymede re-ascended the stairs.</p> +<br> +<a name="AYTOUN_8"></a> +<h3>A HIGHLAND TRAMP</h3> +<center>From 'Norman Sinclair'</center> +<p>When summer came--for in Scotland, alas! there is no spring, +winter rolling itself remorselessly, like a huge polar bear, over +what should be the beds of the early flowers, and crushing them ere +they develop--when summer came, and the trees put on their +pale-green liveries, and the brakes were blue with the +wood-hyacinth, and the ferns unfolded their curl, what ecstasy it +was to steal an occasional holiday, and wander, rod in hand, by +some quiet stream up in the moorlands, inhaling health from every +breeze, nor seeking shelter from the gentle shower as it dropped +its manna from the heavens! And then the long holidays, when the +town was utterly deserted--how I enjoyed these, as they can only be +enjoyed by the possess-ors of the double talisman of strength and +youth! No more care--no more trouble--no more task-work--no thought +even of the graver themes suggested by my later studies! +Look--standing on the Calton Hill, behold yon blue range of +mountains to the west--cannot you name each pinnacle from its form? +Benledi, Benvoirlich, Benlomond! Oh, the beautiful land, the +elysium that lies round the base of those distant giants! The +forest of Glenfinlas, Loch Achray with its weeping birches, the +grand defiles of the Trosachs, and Ellen's Isle, the pearl of the +one lake that genius has forever hallowed! Up, sluggard! Place your +knapsack on your back; but stow it not with unnecessary gear, for +you have still further to go, and your rod also must be your +companion, if you mean to penetrate the region beyond. Money? +Little money suffices him who travels on foot, who can bring his +own fare to the shepherd's bothy where he is to sleep, and who +sleeps there better and sounder than the tourist who rolls from +station to station in his barouche, grumbling because the hotels +are overcrowded, and miserable about the airing of his sheets. +Money? You would laugh if you heard me mention the sum which has +sufficed for my expenditure during a long summer month; for the +pedestrian, humble though he be, has his own especial privileges, +and not the least of these is that he is exempted from all +extortion. Donald--God bless him!--has a knack of putting on the +prices; and when an English family comes posting up to the door of +his inn, clamorously demanding every sort of accommodation which a +metropolitan hotel could afford, grumbling at the lack of +attendance, sneering at the quality of the food, and turning the +whole establishment upside down for their own selfish +gratification, he not unreasonably determines that the extra +trouble shall be paid for in that gold which rarely crosses his +fingers except during the short season when tourists and sportsmen +abound. But Donald, who is descended from the M'Gregor, does not +make spoil of the poor. The sketcher or the angler who come to his +door, with the sweat upon their brow and the dust of the highway or +the pollen of the heather on their feet, meet with a hearty +welcome; and though the room in which their meals are served is but +low in the roof, and the floor strewn with sand, and the attic +wherein they lie is garnished with two beds and a shake-down, yet +are the viands wholesome, the sheets clean, and the tariff so +undeniably moderate that even parsimony cannot complain. So up in +the morning early, so soon as the first beams of the sun slant into +the chamber--down to the loch or river, and with a headlong plunge +scrape acquaintance with the pebbles at the bottom; then rising +with a hearty gasp, strike out for the islet or the further bank, +to the astonishment of the otter, who, thief that he is, is +skulking back to his hole below the old saugh-tree, from a midnight +foray up the burns. Huzza! The mallard, dozing among the reeds, has +taken fright, and tucking up his legs under his round fat rump, +flies quacking to a remoter marsh.</p> + "By the pricking of my thumbs,<br> +Something wicked this way comes,"<br> +<p>and lo! Dugald the keeper, on his way to the hill, is arrested +by the aquatic phenomenon, and half believes that he is witnessing +the frolics of an Urisk! Then make your toilet on the green-sward, +swing your knapsack over your shoulders, and cover ten good miles +of road before you halt before breakfast with more than the +appetite of an ogre.</p> +<p>In this way I made the circuit of well-nigh the whole of the +Scottish Highlands, penetrating as far as Cape Wrath and the wild +district of Edderachylis, nor leaving unvisited the grand scenery +of Loch Corruisk, and the stormy peaks of Skye; and more than one +delightful week did I spend each summer, exploring Gameshope, or +the Linns of Talla, where the Covenanters of old held their +gathering; or clambering up the steep ascent by the Grey Mare's +Tail to lonely and lovely Loch Skene, or casting for trout in the +silver waters of St. Mary's.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>MASSIMO TAPARELLI D'<a name="AZEGLIO"></a>AZEGLIO</h2> +<h3>(1798-1866)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-m.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>assimo Taparelli, Marquis d'Azeglio, like his greater colleague +and sometime rival in the Sardinian Ministry, Cavour, wielded a +graceful and forcible pen, and might have won no slight distinction +in the peaceful paths of literature and art as well, had he not +been before everything else a patriot. Of ancient and noble +Piedmontese stock, he was born at Turin in October, 1798. In his +fifteenth year the youth accompanied his father to Rome, where the +latter had been appointed ambassador, and thus early he was +inspired with the passion for painting and music which never left +him. In accordance with the paternal wish he entered on a military +career, but soon abandoned the service to devote himself to art. +But after a residence of eight years (1821-29) in the papal +capital, having acquired both skill and fame as a landscape +painter, D'Azeglio began to direct his thoughts to letters and +politics.</p> +<p>After the death of his father in 1830 he settled in Milan, where +he formed the acquaintance of the poet and novelist Alessandro +Manzoni, whose daughter he married, and under whose influence he +became deeply interested in literature, especially in its relation +to the political events of those stirring times. The agitation +against Austrian domination was especially marked in the north of +Italy, where Manzoni had made himself prominent; and so it came to +pass that Massimo d'Azeglio plunged into literature with the ardent +hope of stimulating the national sense of independence and +unity.</p> +<p>In 1833 he published, not without misgivings, 'Ettore +Fieramosca,' his first romance, in which he aimed to teach Italians +how to fight for national honor. The work achieved an immediate and +splendid success, and unquestionably served as a powerful aid to +the awakening of Italy's ancient patriotism. It was followed in +1841 by 'Nicolo de' Lapi,' a story conceived in similar vein, with +somewhat greater pretensions to literary finish. D'Azeglio now +became known as one of the foremost representatives of the moderate +party, and exerted the potent influence of his voice as well as of +his pen in diffusing liberal propaganda. In 1846 he published the +bold pamphlet 'Gli Ultimi Casi di Romagna' (On the Recent Events in +Romagna), in which he showed the danger and utter futility of +ill-advised republican outbreaks, and the paramount necessity of +adopting thereafter a wiser and more practical policy to gain the +great end desired. Numerous trenchant political articles issued +from his pen during the next two years. The year 1849 found him a +member of the first Sardinian parliament, and in March of that year +Victor Emmanuel called him to the presidency of the Council with +the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. Obliged to give way three years +later before the rising genius of Cavour, he served his country +with distinction on several important diplomatic missions after the +peace of Villafranca, and died in his native city on the 15th of +January, 1866.</p> +<p>In 1867 appeared D'Azeglio's autobiography, 'I Miei Ricordi,' +translated into English by Count Maffei under title of 'My +Recollections' which is undeniably the most interesting and +thoroughly delightful product of his pen. "He was a 'character,'" +said an English critic at the time: "a man of whims and oddities, +of hobbies and crotchets.... This character of individuality, which +impressed its stamp on his whole life, is charmingly revealed in +every sentence of the memoirs which he has left behind him; so +that, more than any of his previous writings, their mingled +homeliness and wit and wisdom justify the epithet which I once +before ventured to give him when I described him as 'the Giusti of +Italian prose.'" As a polemic writer D'Azeglio was recognized as +one of the chief forces in molding public opinion. If he had not +been both patriot and statesman, this versatile genius, as before +intimated, would not improbably have gained an enviable reputation +in the realm of art; and although his few novels are--perhaps with +justice--no longer remembered, they deeply stirred the hearts of +his countrymen in their day, and to say the least are characterized +by good sense, facility of execution, and a refined imaginative +power.</p> +<br> +<a name="AZEGLIO_1"></a> +<h3>A HAPPY CHILDHOOD</h3> +<center>From 'My Recollections'</center> +<p>The distribution of our daily occupations was strictly laid down +for Matilde and me in black and white, and these rules were not to +be broken with impunity. We were thus accustomed to habits of +order, and never to make anybody wait for our convenience; a fault +which is one of the most troublesome that can be committed either +by great people or small.</p> +<p>I remember one day that Matilde, having gone out with Teresa, +came home when we had been at dinner some time. It was winter, and +snow was falling. The two culprits sat down a little confused, and +their soup was brought them in two plates, which had been kept hot; +but can you guess where? On the balcony; so that the contents were +not only below freezing-point, but actually had a thick covering of +snow!</p> +<p>At dinner, of course my sister and I sat perfectly silent, +waiting our turn, without right of petition or remonstrance. As to +the other proprieties of behavior, such as neatness, and not being +noisy or boisterous, we knew well that the slightest infraction +would have entailed banishment for the rest of the day at least. +Our great anxiety was to eclipse ourselves as much as possible; and +I assure you that under this system we never fancied ourselves the +central points of importance round which all the rest of the world +was to revolve,--an idea which, thanks to absurd indulgence and +flattery, is often forcibly thrust, I may say, into poor little +brains, which if left to themselves would never have lost their +natural simplicity.</p> +<p>The lessons of 'Galateo' were not enforced at dinner only. Even +at other times we were forbidden to raise our voices or interrupt +the conversation of our elders, still more to quarrel with each +other. If sometimes as we went to dinner I rushed forward before +Matilde, my father would take me by the arm and make me come last, +saying, "There is no need to be uncivil because she is your +sister." The old generation in many parts of Italy have the habit +of shouting and raising their voices as if their interlocutor were +deaf, interrupting him as if he had no right to speak, and poking +him in the ribs and otherwise, as if he could only be convinced by +sensations of bodily pain. The regulations observed in my family +were therefore by no means superfluous; and would to Heaven they +were universally adopted as the law of the land!</p> +<p>On another occasion my excellent mother gave me a lesson of +humility, which I shall never forget any more than the place where +I received it.</p> +<p>In the open part of the Cascine, which was once used as a +race-course, to the right of the space where the carriages stand, +there is a walk alongside the wood. I was walking there one day +with my mother, followed by an old servant, a countryman of +Pylades; less heroic than the latter, but a very good fellow too. I +forget why, but I raised a little cane I had in my hand, and I am +afraid I struck him. My mother, before all the passers-by, obliged +me to kneel down and beg his pardon. I can still see poor Giacolin +taking off his hat with a face of utter bewilderment, quite unable +to comprehend how it was that the Chevalier Massimo Taparelli +d'Azeglio came to be at his feet.</p> +<p>An indifference to bodily pain was another of the precepts most +carefully instilled by our father; and as usual, the lesson was +made more impressive by example whenever an opportunity presented +itself. If, for instance, we complained of any slight pain or +accident, our father used to say, half in fun, half in earnest, +"When a Piedmontese has both his arms and legs broken, and has +received two sword-thrusts in the body, he may be allowed to say, +but not till then, 'Really, I almost think I am not quite +well.'"</p> +<p>The moral authority he had acquired over me was so great that in +no case would I have disobeyed him, even had he ordered me to jump +out of window.</p> +<p>I recollect that when my first tooth was drawn, I was in an +agony of fright as we went to the dentist; but outwardly I was +brave enough, and tried to seem as indifferent as possible. On +another occasion my childish courage and also my father's firmness +were put to a more serious test. He had hired a house called the +Villa Billi, which stands about half a mile from San Domenico di +Fiesole, on the right winding up toward the hill. Only two years +ago I visited the place, and found the same family of peasants +still there, and my two old playmates, Nando and Sandro,--who had +both become even greater fogies than myself,--and we had a hearty +chat together about bygone times.</p> +<p>Whilst living at this villa, our father was accustomed to take +us out for long walks, which were the subject of special +regulations. We were strictly forbidden to ask, "Have we far to +go?"--"What time is it?" or to say, "I am thirsty; I am hungry; I +am tired:" but in everything else we had full liberty of speech and +action. Returning from one of these excursions, we one day found +ourselves below Castel di Poggio, a rugged stony path leading +towards Vincigliata. In one hand I had a nosegay of wild flowers, +gathered by the way, and in the other a stick, when I happened to +stumble, and fell awkwardly. My father sprang forward to pick me +up, and seeing that one arm pained me, he examined it and found +that in fact the bone was broken below the elbow. All this time my +eyes were fixed upon him, and I could see his countenance change, +and assume such an expression of tenderness and anxiety that he no +longer appeared to be the same man. He bound up my arm as well as +he could, and we then continued our way homewards. After a few +moments, during which my father had resumed his usual calmness, he +said to me:--</p> +<p>"Listen, Mammolino: your mother is not well. If she knows you +are hurt it will make her worse. You must be brave, my boy: +to-morrow morning we will go to Florence, where all that is needful +can be done for you; but this evening you must not show you are in +pain. Do you understand?"</p> +<p>All this was said with his usual firmness and authority, but +also with the greatest affection. I was only too glad to have so +important and difficult a task intrusted to me. The whole evening I +sat quietly in a corner, supporting my poor little broken arm as +best I could, and my mother only thought me tired by the long walk, +and had no suspicion of the truth.</p> +<p>The next day I was taken to Florence, and my arm was set; but to +complete the cure I had to be sent to the Baths of Vinadio a few +years afterward. Some people may, in this instance, think my father +was cruel. I remember the fact as if it were but yesterday, and I +am sure such an idea never for one minute entered my mind. The +expression of ineffable tenderness which I had read in his eyes had +so delighted me, it seemed so reasonable to avoid alarming my +mother, that I looked on the hard task allotted me as a fine +opportunity of displaying my courage. I did so because I had not +been spoilt, and good principles had been early implanted within +me: and now that I am an old man and have known the world, I bless +the severity of my father; and I could wish every Italian child +might have one like him, and derive more profit than I did,--in +thirty years' time Italy would then be the first of nations.</p> +<p>Moreover, it is a fact that children are much more observant +than is commonly supposed, and never regard as hostile a just but +affectionate severity. I have always seen them disposed to prefer +persons who keep them in order to those who constantly yield to +their caprices; and soldiers are just the same in this respect.</p> +<p>The following is another example to prove that my father did not +deserve to be called cruel:--</p> +<p>He thought it a bad practice to awaken children suddenly, or to +let their sleep be abruptly disturbed. If we had to rise early for +a journey, he would come to my bedside and softly hum a popular +song, two lines of which still ring in my ears:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">"Chi vuol veder l'aurora</p> +<p class="i5">Lasci le molli plume."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">(He who the early dawn would view</p> +<p class="i3">Downy pillows must eschew.)</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>And by gradually raising his voice, he awoke me without the +slightest start. In truth, with all his severity, Heaven knows how +I loved him.</p> +<br> +<a name="AZEGLIO_2"></a> +<h3>THE PRIESTHOOD</h3> +<center>From 'My Recollections'</center> +<p>My occupations in Rome were not entirely confined to the domains +of poetry and imagination. It must not be forgotten that I was also +a diplomatist; and in that capacity I had social as well as +official duties to perform.</p> +<p>The Holy Alliance had accepted the confession and repentance of +Murat, and had granted him absolution; but as the new convert +inspired little confidence, he was closely watched, in the +expectation--and perhaps the hope--of an opportunity of crowning +the work by the infliction of penance.</p> +<p>The penance intended was to deprive him of his crown and +sceptre, and to turn him out of the pale. Like all the other +diplomatists resident in Rome, we kept our court well informed of +all that could be known or surmised regarding the intentions of the +Neapolitan government; and I had the lively occupation of copying +page after page of incomprehensible cipher for the newborn archives +of our legation. Such was my life at that time; and in spite of the +cipher, I soon found it pleasant enough. Dinner-parties, balls, +routs, and fashionable society did not then inspire me with the +holy horror which now keeps me away from them. Having never before +experienced or enjoyed anything of the kind, I was satisfied. But +in the midst of my pleasure, our successor--Marquis San +Saturnino--made his appearance, and we had to prepare for our +departure. One consolation, however, remained. I had just then been +appointed to the high rank of cornet in the crack dragoon regiment +"Royal Piedmont." I had never seen its uniform, but I cherished a +vague hope of being destined by Fortune to wear a helmet; and the +prospect of realizing this splendid dream of my infancy prevented +me from regretting my Roman acquaintances overmuch.</p> +<p>The Society of Jesus had meanwhile been restored, and my brother +was on the eve of taking the vows. He availed himself of the last +days left him before that ceremony to sit for his portrait to the +painter Landi. This is one of that artist's best works, who, poor +man, cannot boast of many; and it now belongs to my nephew +Emanuel.</p> +<p>The day of the ceremony at length arrived, and I accompanied my +brother to the Convent of Monte Cavallo, where it was to take +place.</p> +<p>The Jesuits at that time were all greatly rejoicing at the +revival of their order; and as may be inferred, they were mostly +old men, with only a few young novices among them.</p> +<p>We entered an oratory fragrant with the flowers adorning the +altar, full of silver ornaments, holy images, and burning +wax-lights, with half-closed windows and carefully drawn blinds; +for it is a certain, although unexplained, fact that men are more +devout in the dark than in the light, at night than in the +day-time, and with their eyes closed rather than open. We were +received by the General of the order, Father Panizzoni, a little +old man bent double with age, his eyes encircled with red, half +blind, and I believe almost in his dotage. He was shedding tears of +joy, and we all maintained the pious and serious aspect suited to +the occasion, until the time arrived for the novice to step +forward, when, lo! Father Panizzoni advanced with open arms toward +the place where I stood, mistaking me for my brother; a blunder +which for a moment imperiled the solemnity of the assembly.</p> +<p>Had I yielded to the embrace of Father Panizzoni, it would have +been a wonderful bargain both for him and me. But this was not the +only invitation I then received to enter upon a sacerdotal career. +Monsignor Morozzo, my great-uncle and god-father, then secretary to +the bishops and regular monks, one day proposed that I should enter +the Ecclesiastical Academy, and follow the career of the prelacy +under his patronage. The idea seemed so absurd that I could not +help laughing heartily, and the subject was never revived.</p> +<p>Had I accepted these overtures, I might in the lapse of time +have long since been a cardinal, and perhaps even Pope. And if so, +I should have drawn the world after me, as the shepherd entices a +lamb with a lump of salt. It was very wrong in me to refuse. +Doubtless the habit of expressing my opinion to every one, and on +all occasions, would have led me into many difficulties. I must +either have greatly changed, or a very few years would have seen an +end of me.</p> +<p>We left Rome at last, in the middle of winter, in an open +carriage, and traveling chiefly by night, as was my father's habit. +While the horses are trotting on, I will sum up the impressions of +Rome and the Roman world which I was carrying away. The clearest +idea present to my mind was that the priests of Rome and their +religion had very little in common with my father and Don Andreis, +or with the religion professed by them and by the priests and the +devout laity of Turin. I had not been able to detect the slightest +trace of that which in the language of asceticism is called +unction. I know not why, but that grave and downcast aspect, +enlivened only by a few occasional flashes of ponderous clerical +wit, the atmosphere depressing as the <i>plumbeus auster</i> of +Horace, in which I had been brought up under the rule of my +priest,--all seemed unknown at Rome. There I never met with a +monsignore or a priest who did not step out with a pert and jaunty +air, his head erect, showing off a well-made leg, and daintily +attired in the garb of a clerical dandy. Their conversation turned +upon every possible subject, and sometimes upon <i>quibusdam +aliis</i>, to such a degree that it was evident my father was +perpetually on thorns. I remember a certain prelate, whom I will +not name, and whose conduct was, I believe, sufficiently free and +easy, who at a dinner-party at a villa near Porta Pia related +laughingly some matrimonial anecdotes, which I at that time did not +fully understand. And I remember also my poor father's manifest +distress, and his strenuous endeavors to change the conversation +and direct it into a different channel.</p> +<p>The prelates and priests whom I used to meet in less orthodox +companies than those frequented by my father seemed to me still +more free and easy. Either in the present or in the past, in theory +or in practice, with more or less or even no concealment, they all +alike were sailing or had sailed on the sweet <i>fleuve du +tendre</i>. For instance, I met one old canon bound to a venerable +dame by a tie of many years' standing. I also met a young prelate +with a pink-and-white complexion and eyes expressive of anything +but holiness; he was a desperate votary of the fair sex, and +swaggered about paying his homage right and left. Will it be +believed, this gay apostle actually told me, without +circumlocution, that in the monastery of Tor di Specchi there dwelt +a young lady who was in love with me? I, who of course desired no +better, took the hint instantly, and had her pointed out to me. +Then began an interchange of silly messages, of languishing looks, +and a hundred absurdities of the same kind; all cut short by the +pair of post-horses which carried us out of the Porta del +Popolo....</p> +<p>The opinions of my father respecting the clergy and the Court of +Rome were certainly narrow and prejudiced; but with his good sense +it was impossible for him not to perceive what was manifest even to +a blind man. During our journey he kept insinuating (without +appearing, however, to attach much importance to it) that it was +always advisable to speak with proper respect of a country where we +had been well received, even if we had noticed a great many abuses +and disorders. To a certain extent, this counsel was well worthy of +attention. He was doubtless much grieved at the want of decency +apparent in one section of that society, or, to use a modern +expression, at its absence of respectability; but he consoled +himself by thinking, like Abraham the Jew in the 'Decameron,' that +no better proof can be given of the truth of the religion professed +by Rome than the fact of its enduring in such hands.</p> +<p>This reasoning, however, is not quite conclusive; for if +Boccaccio had had patience to wait another forty years, he would +have learnt, first from John Huss, and then from Luther and his +followers, that although in certain hands things may last a while, +it is only till they are worn out. What Boccaccio and the Jew would +say now if they came back, I do not venture to surmise,</p> +<br> +<a name="AZEGLIO_3"></a> +<h3>MY FIRST VENTURE IN ROMANCE</h3> +<center>From 'My Recollections'</center> +<p>While striving to acquire a good artistic position in my new +residence, I had still continued to work at my 'Fieramosca,' which +was now almost completed. Letters were at that time represented at +Milan by Manzoni, Grossi, Torti, Pompeo Litta, etc. The memories of +the period of Monti, Parini, Foscolo, Porta, Pellico, Verri, +Beccaria, were still fresh; and however much the living literary +and scientific men might be inclined to lead a secluded life, +intrenched in their own houses, with the shyness of people who +disliked much intercourse with the world, yet by a little tact +those who wished for their company could overcome their reserve. As +Manzoni's son-in-law, I found myself naturally brought into contact +with them. I knew them all; but Grossi and I became particularly +intimate, and our close and uninterrupted friendship lasted until +the day of his but too premature death. I longed to show my work to +him, and especially to Manzoni, and ask their advice; but fear this +time, not artistic but literary, had again caught hold of me. +Still, a resolve was necessary, and was taken at last. I disclosed +my secret, imploring forbearance and advice, but no +<i>indulgence</i>. I wanted the truth, the whole truth, and nothing +but the truth. I preferred the blame of a couple of trusted friends +to that of the public. Both seemed to have expected something a +great deal worse than what they heard, to judge by their startled +but also approving countenances, when my novel was read to them. +Manzoni remarked with a smile, "We literary men have a strange +profession indeed--any one can take it up in a day. Here is +Massimo: the whim of writing a novel seizes him, and upon my word +he does not do badly, after all!"</p> +<p>This high approbation inspired me with leonine courage, and I +set to work again in earnest, so that in 1833 the work was ready +for publication. On thinking it over now, it strikes me that I was +guilty of great impertinence in thus bringing out and publishing +with undaunted assurance my little novel among all those literary +big-wigs; I who had never done or written anything before. But it +was successful; and this is an answer to every objection.</p> +<p>The day I carried my bundle of manuscript to San Pietro all' +Orto, and, as Berni expresses it,--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8">"--ritrovato</p> +<p class="i1">Un che di stampar opere lavora,</p> +<p class="i1">Dissi, Stampami questa alla malora!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">(--having</p> +<p>Discovered one, a publisher by trade,</p> +<p>'Print me this book, bad luck to it!' I said.)</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>I was in a still greater funk than on the two previous +occasions. But I had yet to experience the worst I ever felt in the +whole course of my life, and that was on the day of publication; +when I went out in the morning, and read my illustrious name +placarded in large letters on the street walls! I felt blinded by a +thousand sparks. Now indeed <i>alea jacta erat</i>, and my fleet +was burnt to ashes.</p> +<p>This great fear of the public may, with good-will, be taken for +modesty; but I hold that at bottom it is downright vanity. Of +course I am speaking of people endowed with a sufficient dose of +talent and common-sense; with fools, on the contrary, vanity takes +the shape of impudent self-confidence. Hence all the daily +published amount of nonsense; which would convey a strange idea of +us to Europe, if it were not our good fortune that Italian is not +much understood abroad. As regards our internal affairs, the two +excesses are almost equally noxious. In Parliament, for instance, +the first, those of the timidly vain genus, might give their +opinion a little oftener with general advantage; while if the +others, the impudently vain, were not always brawling, discussions +would be more brief and rational, and public business better and +more quickly dispatched. The same reflection applies to other +branches--to journalism, literature, society, etc.; for vanity is +the bad weed which chokes up our political field; and as it is a +plant of hardy growth, blooming among us all the year round, it is +just as well to be on our guard.</p> +<p>Timid vanity was terribly at work within me the day 'Fieramosca' +was published. For the first twenty-four hours it was impossible to +learn anything; for even the most zealous require at least a day to +form some idea of a book. Next morning, on first going out, I +encountered a friend of mine, a young fellow then and now a man of +mature age, who has never had a suspicion of the cruel blow he +unconsciously dealt me. I met him in Piazza San Fedele, where I +lived; and after a few words, he said, "By the by, I hear you have +published a novel. Well done!" and then talked away about something +quite different with the utmost heedlessness. Not a drop of blood +was left in my veins, and I said to myself, "Mercy on me! I am done +for: not even a word is said about my poor 'Fieramosca!'" It seemed +incredible that he, who belonged to a very numerous family, +connected with the best society of the town, should have heard +nothing, if the slightest notice had been taken of it. As he was +besides an excellent fellow and a friend, it seemed equally +incredible that if a word had been said and heard, he should not +have repeated it to me. Therefore, it was a failure; the worst of +failures, that of silence. With a bitter feeling at heart, I hardly +knew where I went; but this feeling soon changed, and the +bitterness was superseded by quite an opposite sensation.</p> +<p>'Fieramosca' succeeded, and succeeded so well that I felt +<i>abasourdi</i>, as the French express it; indeed, I could say "Je +n'aurais jamais cru être si fort savant." My success went on +in an increasing ratio: it passed from the papers and from the +masculine half to the feminine half of society; it found its way to +the studios and the stage. I became the vade-mecum of every +prima-donna and tenor, the hidden treat of school-girls; I +penetrated between the pillow and the mattress of college, boys, of +the military academy cadet; and my apotheosis reached such a height +that some newspapers asserted it to be Manzoni's work. It is +superfluous to add that only the ignorant could entertain such an +idea; those who were better informed would never have made such a +blunder.</p> +<p>My aim, as I said, was to take the initiative in the slow work +of the regeneration of national character. I had no wish but to +awaken high and noble sentiments in Italian hearts; and if all the +literary men in the world had assembled to condemn me in virtue of +strict rules, I should not have cared a jot, if, in defiance of all +existing rules, I succeeded in inflaming the heart of one single +individual. And I will also add, who can say that what causes +durable emotion is unorthodox? It may be at variance with some +rules and in harmony with others; and those which move hearts and +captivate intellects do not appear to me to be the worst.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="BABER"></a>BABER</h2> +<h3>(1482-1530)</h3> +<h3>BY EDWARD S. HOLDEN</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>he emperor Baber was sixth in descent from Tamerlane, who died +in 1405. Tamerlane's conquests were world-wide, but they never +formed a homogeneous empire. Even in his lifetime he parceled them +out to sons and grandsons. Half a century later Trans-oxiana was +divided into many independent kingdoms each governed by a +descendant of the great conqueror.</p> +<p>When Baber was born (1482), an uncle was King of Samarkand and +Bokhara; another uncle ruled Badakhshan; another was King of Kabul. +A relative was the powerful King of Khorasan. These princes were of +the family of Tamerlane, as was Baber's father,--Sultan Omer Sheikh +Mirza, who was the King of Ferghana. Two of Baber's maternal +uncles, descendants of Chengiz Khan, ruled the Moghul tribes to the +west and north of Ferghana; and two of their sisters had married +the Kings of Samarkand and Badakhshan. The third sister was Baber's +mother, wife of the King of Ferghana.</p> +<p>The capitals of their countries were cities like Samarkand, +Bokhara, and Herat. Tamerlane's grandson--Ulugh Beg--built at +Samarkand the chief astronomical observatory of the world, a +century and a half before Tycho Brahe (1576) erected Uranibourg in +Denmark. The town was filled with noble buildings,--mosques, tombs, +and colleges. Its walls were five miles in circumference<a name= +"FNanchor2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2">[2]</a>.</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor2">[2]</a> +Paris was walled in 1358; so Froissart tells us.</blockquote> +<p>Its streets were paved (the streets of Paris were not paved till +the time of Henri IV.), and running water was distributed in pipes. +Its markets overflowed with fruits. Its cooks and bakers were noted +for their skill. Its colleges were full of learned men, +poets<a name="FNanchor3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3">[3]</a>, and +doctors of the law. The observatory counted more than a hundred +observers and calculators in its corps of astronomers. The products +of China, of India, and of Persia flowed to the bazaars.</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor3">[3]</a> +"In Samarkand, the Odes of Baiesanghar Mirza are so popular, that +there is not a house in which a copy of them may not be +found."--Baber's. 'Memoirs.'</blockquote> +<p>Bokhara has always been the home of learning. Herat was at that +time the most magnificent and refined city of the world<a name= +"FNanchor4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4">[4]</a>. The court was +splendid, polite, intelligent, and liberal. Poetry, history, +philosophy, science, and the arts of painting and music were +cultivated by noblemen and scholars alike. Baber himself was a poet +of no mean rank. The religion was that of Islam, and the sect the +orthodox Sunni; but the practice was less precise than in Arabia. +Wine was drunk; poetry was prized; artists were encouraged. The +mother-language of Baber was Turki (of which the Turkish of +Constantinople is a dialect). Arabic was the language of science +and of theology. Persian was the accepted literary language, though +Baber's verses are in Turki as well.</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor4">[4]</a> +Baber spent twenty days in visiting its various palaces, towers, +mosques, gardens, colleges--and gives a list of more than fifty +such sights.</blockquote> +<p>We possess Baber's 'Memoirs' in the original Turki and in +Persian translations also. In what follows, the extracts will be +taken from Erskine's translation<a name="FNanchor5"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_5">[5]</a>, which preserves their direct and manly +charm.</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor5">[5]</a> +'Memoirs of Baber, Emperor of Hindustan, written by himself, and +translated by Leyden and Erskine,' etc. London, 1826, +quarto.</blockquote> +<p>To understand them, the foregoing slight introduction is +necessary. A connected sketch of Baber's life and a brief history +of his conquests can be found in 'The Mogul Emperors of +Hindustan<a name="FNanchor6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6">[6]</a>.' We +are here more especially concerned with his literary work. To +comprehend it, something of his history and surroundings must be +known.</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor6">[6]</a> +By Edward S. Holden, New York, 1895, 8vo, illustrated.</blockquote> +<br> +<a name="BABER_1"></a> +<h3>FROM BABER'S 'MEMOIRS'</h3> +<p>In the month, of Ramzan, in the year 899 [A. D. 1494], and in +the twelfth year of my age, I became King of Ferghana.</p> +<p>The country of Ferghana is situated in the fifth climate, on the +extreme boundary of the habitable world. On the east it has +Kashgar; on the west, Samarkand; on the south, the hill country; on +the north, in former times there were cities, yet at the present +time, in consequence of the incursions of the Usbeks, no population +remains. Ferghana is a country of small extent, abounding in grain +and fruits. The revenues may suffice, without oppressing the +country, to maintain three or four thousand troops.</p> +<p>My father, Omer Sheikh Mirza, was of low stature, had a short, +bushy beard, brownish hair, and was very corpulent. As for his +opinions and habits, he was of the sect of Hanifah, and strict in +his belief. He never neglected the five regular and stated prayers. +He read elegantly, and he was particularly fond of reading the +'Shahnameh<a name="FNanchor7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7">[7]</a>.' +Though he had a turn for poetry, he did not cultivate it. He was so +strictly just, that when the caravan from [China] had once reached +the hill country to the east of Ardejan, and the snow fell so deep +as to bury it, so that of the whole only two persons escaped; he no +sooner received information of the occurrence than he dispatched +overseers to take charge of all the property, and he placed it +under guard and preserved it untouched, till in the course of one +or two years, the heirs coming from Khorasan, he delivered back the +goods safe into their hands. His generosity was large, and so was +his whole soul; he was of an excellent temper, affable, eloquent, +and sweet in his conversation, yet brave withal and manly.</p> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor7">[7]</a> +The 'Book of Kings,' by the Persian poet Firdausi.</blockquote> +<p>The early portion of Baber's 'Memoirs' is given to portraits of +the officers of his court and country. A few of these may be +quoted.</p> +<p>Khosrou Shah, though a Turk, applied his attention to the mode +of raising his revenues, and he spent them liberally. At the death +of Sultan Mahmud Mirza, he reached the highest pitch of greatness, +and his retainers rose to the number of twenty thousand. Though he +prayed regularly and abstained from forbidden foods, yet he was +black-hearted and vicious, of mean understanding and slender +talents, faithless and a traitor. For the sake of the short and +fleeting pomp of this vain world, he put out the eyes of one and +murdered another of the sons of the benefactor in whose service he +had been, and by whom he had been protected; rendering himself +accursed of God, abhorred of men, and worthy of execration and +shame till the day of final retribution. These crimes he +perpetrated merely to secure the enjoyment of some poor worldly +vanities; yet with all the power of his many and populous +territories, in spite of his magazines of warlike stores, he had +not the spirit to face a barnyard chicken. He will often be +mentioned in these memoirs.</p> +<p>Ali Shir Beg was celebrated for the elegance of his manners; and +this elegance and polish were ascribed to the conscious pride of +high fortune: but this was not the case; they were natural to him. +Indeed, Ali Shir Beg was an incomparable person. From the time that +poetry was first written in the Turki language, no man has written +so much and so well. He has also left excellent pieces of music; +they are excellent both as to the airs themselves and as to the +preludes. There is not upon record in history any man who was a +greater patron and protector of men of talent than he. He had no +son nor daughter, nor wife nor family; he passed through the world +single and unincumbered.</p> +<p>Another poet was Sheikhem Beg. He composed a sort of verses, in +which both the words and the sense are terrifying and correspond +with each other. The following is one of his couplets:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>During my sorrows of the night, the whirlpool of my sighs +bears</i></p> +<p class="i9"><i>the firmament from its place</i>;</p> +<p><i>The dragons of the inundations of my tears bear down the +four</i></p> +<p class="i9"><i>quarters of the habitable world</i>!</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>It is well known that on one occasion, having repeated these +verses to Moulana Abdal Rahman Jami, the Mulla said, "Are you +repeating poetry, or are you terrifying folks?"</p> +<p>A good many men who wrote verses happened to be present. During +the party the following verse of Muhammed Salikh was +repeated:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>What can one do to regulate his thoughts, with a mistress +possessed</i></p> +<p class="i9"><i>of every blandishment</i>?</p> +<p><i>Where you are, how is it possible for our thoughts to wander +to</i></p> +<p class="i9"><i>another</i>?</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>It was agreed that every one should make an extempore couplet to +the same rhyme and measure. Every one accordingly repeated his +verse. As we had been very merry, I repeated the following +extempore satirical verses:--</p> +<blockquote><i>What can one do with a drunken sot like you?<br> +What can be done with one foolish as a she-ass?</i></blockquote> +<p>Before this, whatever had come into my head, good or bad, I had +always committed it to writing. On the present occasion, when I had +composed these lines, my mind led me to reflections, and my heart +was struck with regret that a tongue which could repeat the +sublimest productions should bestow any trouble on such unworthy +verses; that it was melancholy that a heart elevated to nobler +conceptions should submit to occupy itself with these meaner and +despicable fancies. From that time forward I religiously abstained +from satirical poetry. I had not then formed my resolution, nor +considered how objectionable the practice was.</p> +<br> +<center>TRANSACTIONS OF THE YEAR 904 [A.D. 1498-99]</center> +<br> +<p>Having failed in repeated expeditions against Samarkand and +Ardejan, I once more returned to Khojend. Khojend is but a small +place; and it is difficult for one to support two hundred retainers +in it. How then could a [young] man, ambitious of empire, set +himself down contentedly in so insignificant a place? As soon as I +received advice that the garrison of Ardejan had declared for me, I +made no delay. And thus, by the grace of the Most High, I recovered +my paternal kingdom, of which I had been deprived nearly two years. +An order was issued that such as had accompanied me in my campaigns +might resume possession of whatever part of their property they +recognized. Although the order seemed reasonable and just in +itself, yet it was issued with too much precipitation. It was a +senseless thing to exasperate so many men with arms in their hands. +In war and in affairs of state, though things may appear just and +reasonable at first sight, no matter ought to be finally decided +without being well weighed and considered in a hundred different +lights. From my issuing this single order without sufficient +foresight, what commotions and mutinies arose! This inconsiderate +order of mine was in reality the ultimate cause of my being a +second time expelled from Ardejan.</p> +<p>Baber's next campaign was most arduous, but in passing by a +spring he had the leisure to have these verses of Saadi inscribed +on its brink:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"><i>I have heard that the exalted Jemshid</i></p> +<p class="i2"><i>Inscribed on a stone beside a fountain</i>:--</p> +<p>"<i>Many a man like us has rested by this fountain</i>,</p> +<p><i>And disappeared in the twinkling of an eye</i>.</p> +<p><i>Should we conquer the whole world by our manhood and +strength</i>,</p> +<p><i>Yet could we not carry it with us to the grave."</i></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Of another fountain he says:--"I directed this fountain to be +built round with stone, and formed a cistern. At the time when the +<i>Arghwan</i> flowers begin to blow, I do not know that any place +in the world is to be compared to it." On its sides he engraved +these verses:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"><i>Sweet is the return of the new year</i>;</p> +<p class="i3"><i>Sweet is the smiling spring</i>;</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Sweet is the juice of the mellow grape</i>;</p> +<p class="i3"><i>Sweeter far the voice of love</i>.</p> +<p><i>Strive, O Baber! to secure the joys of life</i>,</p> +<p><i>Which, alas! once departed, never more return.</i></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>From these flowers Baber and his army marched into the passes of +the high mountains.</p> +<p>His narrative goes on:--</p> +<p>It was at this time that I composed the following verses:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>There is no violence or injury of fortune that I have not +experienced</i>;</p> +<p><i>This broken heart has endured them all. Alas! is there one +left</i></p> +<p><i>that I have not encountered</i>?</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>For about a week we continued pressing down the snow without +being able to advance more than two or three miles. I myself +assisted in trampling down the snow. Every step we sank up to the +middle or the breast, but we still went on, trampling it down. As +the strength of the person who went first was generally exhausted +after he had advanced a few paces, he stood still, while another +took his place. The ten, fifteen, or twenty people who worked in +trampling down the snow, next succeeded in dragging on a horse +without a rider. Drawing this horse aside, we brought on another, +and in this way ten, fifteen, or twenty of us contrived to bring +forward the horses of all our number. The rest of the troops, even +our best men, advanced along the road that had been beaten for +them, hanging their heads. This was no time for plaguing them or +employing authority. Every man who possesses spirit or emulation +hastens to such works of himself. Continuing to advance by a track +which we beat in the snow in this manner, we reached a cave at the +foot of the Zirrin pass. That day the storm of wind was dreadful. +The snow fell in such quantities that we all expected to meet death +together. The cave seemed to be small. I took a hoe and made for +myself at the mouth of the cave a resting-place about the size of a +prayer-carpet. I dug down in the snow as deep as my breast, and yet +did not reach the ground. This hole afforded me some shelter from +the wind, and I sat down in it. Some desired me to go into the +cavern, but I would not go. I felt that for me to be in a warm +dwelling, while my men were in the, midst of snow and drift,--for +me to be within, enjoying sleep and ease, while my followers were +in trouble and distress,--would be inconsistent with what I owed +them, and a deviation from that society in suffering which was +their due. I continued, therefore, to sit in the drift.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6"><i>Ambition admits not of inaction</i>;</p> +<p class="i6"><i>The world is his who exerts himself</i>;</p> +<p class="i6"><i>In wisdom's eye, every condition</i></p> +<p class="i6"><i>May find repose save royalty alone.</i></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>By leadership like this, the descendant of Tamerlane became the +ruler of Kabul. He celebrates its charms in verse:--</p> +<blockquote><i>Its verdure and flowers render Kabul, in spring, a +heaven.</i>--</blockquote> +<p>but this kingdom was too small for a man of Baber's stamp. He +used it as a stepping-stone to the conquest of India (1526).</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Return a hundred thanks, O Baber! for the bounty of the +merciful God</i></p> +<p class="i2"><i>Has given you Sind, Hind, and numerous +kingdoms</i>;</p> +<p class="i2"><i>If, unable to stand the heat, you long for +cold</i>,</p> +<p class="i2"><i>You have only to recollect the frost and cold of +Ghazni.</i></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>In spite of these verses, Baber did not love India, and his +monarchy was an exile to him. Let the last extract from his memoirs +be a part of a letter written in 1529 to an old and trusted friend +in Kabul. It is an outpouring of the griefs of his inmost heart to +his friend. He says:--</p> +<p>My solicitude to visit my western dominions (Kabul) is boundless +and great beyond expression. I trust in Almighty Allah that the +time is near at hand when everything will be completely settled in +this country. As soon as matters are brought to that state, I +shall, with the permission of Allah, set out for your quarters +without a moment's delay. How is it possible that the delights of +those lands should ever be erased from the heart? How is it +possible to forget the delicious melons and grapes of that pleasant +region? They very recently brought me a single muskmelon from +Kabul. While cutting it up, I felt myself affected with a strong +feeling of loneliness and a sense of my exile from my native +country, and I could not help shedding tears. [He gives long +instructions on the military and political matters to be attended +to, and continues without a break:--] At the southwest of Besteh I +formed a plantation of trees; and as the prospect from it was very +fine, I called it Nazergah [the view]. You must there plant some +beautiful trees, and all around sow beautiful and sweet-smelling +flowers and shrubs. [And he goes straight on:--] Syed Kasim will +accompany the artillery. [After more details of the government he +quotes fondly a little trivial incident of former days and friends, +and says:--] Do not think amiss of me for deviating into these +fooleries. I conclude with every good wish. /#</p> +<p>The 'Memoirs' of Baber deserve a place beside the writings of +the greatest of generals and conquerors. He is not unworthy to be +classed with Caesar as a general and as a man of letters. His +character was more human, more frank, more lovable, more ardent. +His fellow in our western world is not Caesar, but Henri IV. of +France and Navarre.</p> +<p class="sign"><img src="images/sign199.png" width="60%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="BABRIUS"></a>BABRIUS</h2> +<center>(First Century A.D.)</center> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-b.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>abrius, also referred to as Babrias and Gabrias, was the writer +of that metrical version of the folk-fables, commonly referred to +Aesop, which delights our childhood. Until the time of Richard +Bentley he was commonly thought of merely as a fabulist whose +remains had been preserved by a few grammarians. Bentley, in the +first draft (1697) of the part of his famous 'Dissertation' +treating of the fables of Aesop, speaks thus of Babrius, and goes +not far out of his way to give a rap at Planudes, a late Greek, who +turned works of Ovid, Cato, and Caesar into Greek:--</p> +<blockquote>"... came one Babrius, that gave a new turn of the +fables into choliambics. Nobody that I know of mentions him but +Suidas, Avienus, and Tzetzes. There's one Gabrias, indeed, yet +extant, that has comprised each fable in four sorry iambics. But +our Babrius is a writer of another size and quality; and were his +book now extant, it might justly be opposed, if not preferred, to +the Latin of Phaedrus. There's a whole fable of his yet preserved +at the end of Gabrias, of 'The Swallow and the Nightingale.' Suidas +brings many citations out of him, all which show him an excellent +poet.... There are two parcels of the present fables; the one, +which are the more ancient, one hundred and thirty-six in number, +were first published out of the Heidelberg Library by Neveletus, +1610. The editor himself well observed that they were falsely +ascribed to Aesop, because they mention holy monks. To which I will +add another remark,--that there is a sentence out of Job.... Thus I +have proved one-half of the fables now extant that carry the name +of Aesop to be above a thousand years more recent than he. And the +other half, that were public before Neveletus, will be found yet +more modern, and the latest of all.... This collection, therefore, +is more recent than that other; and, coming first abroad with +Aesop's 'Life,' written by Planudes, 'tis justly believed to be +owing to the same writer. That idiot of a monk has given us a book +which he calls 'The Life of Aesop,' that perhaps cannot be matched +in any language for ignorance and nonsense. He had picked up two or +three true stories,--that Aesop was a slave to a Xanthus, carried a +burthen of bread, conversed with Croesus, and was put to death at +Delphi; but the circumstances of these and all his other tales are +pure invention.... But of all his injuries to Aesop, that which can +least be forgiven him is the making such a monster of him for +ugliness,--an abuse that has found credit so universally that all +the modern painters since the time of Planudes have drawn him in +the worst shapes and features that fancy could invent. 'Twas an old +tradition among the Greeks that Aesop revived again and lived a +second life. Should he revive once more and see the picture before +the book that carries his name, could he think it drawn for +himself?--or for the monkey, or some strange beast introduced in +the 'Fables'? But what revelation had this monk about Aesop's +deformity? For he must have it by dream or vision, and not by +ordinary methods of knowledge. He lived about two thousand years +after him, and in all that tract of time there's not a single +author that has given the least hint that Aesop was +ugly."</blockquote> +<p>Thus Bentley; but to return to Babrius. Tyrwhitt, in 1776, +followed this calculation of Bentley by collecting the remains of +Babrius. A publication in 1809 of fables from a Florentine +manuscript foreran the collection (1832) of all the fables which +could be entirely restored. In 1835 a German scholar, Knoch, +published whatever had up to that time been written on Babrius, or +as far as then known by him. So much had been accomplished by +modern scholarship. The calculation was not unlike the mathematical +computation that a star should, from an apparent disturbance, be in +a certain quarter of the heavens at a certain time. The manuscript +of Babrius, it became clear, must have existed. In 1842 M. Mynas, a +Greek, who had already discovered the 'Philosophoumena' of +Hippolytus, came upon the parchment in the convent of St. Lama on +Mount Athos. He was employed by the French government, and the duty +of giving the new ancient to the world fell to French scholars. The +date of the manuscript they referred to the tenth century. There +were contained in it one hundred and twenty-three of the supposed +one hundred and sixty fables, the arrangement being alphabetical +and ending with the letter O. Again, in 1857 M. Mynas announced +another discovery. Ninety-four fables and a prooemium were still in +a convent at Mount Athos; but the monks, who made difficulty about +parting with the first parchment, refused to let the second go +abroad. M. Mynas forwarded a transcript which he sold to the +British Museum. It was after examination pronounced to be the work +of a forger, and not even what it purported to be--the tinkering of +a writer who had turned the original of Babrius into barbarous +Greek and halting metre. Suggestions were made that the forger was +Mynas himself. And there were scholars who accounted the manuscript +as genuine.</p> +<p>The discovery of the first part added substantially to the +remains which we have of the poetry of ancient Greece. The +terseness, simplicity, and humor of the poems belong to the popular +classic all the world over, in whatever tongue it appears; and the +purity of the Greek shows that Babrius lived at a time when the +influence of the classical age was still vital. He is placed at +various times. Bergk fixes him so far back as B.C. 250, while +others place him at the same number of years in our own era. Both +French and German criticism has claimed that he was a Roman. There +is no trace of his fables earlier than the Emperor Julian, and no +metrical version of the Aesopean fables existed before the writing +of Babrius. Socrates tried his hand at a version or two. But when +such Greek writers as Xenophon and Aristotle refer to old +folk-tales and legends, it is always in their own words. His fables +are written in choliambic verse; that is, imperfect iambic which +has a spondee in the last foot and is fitted for the satire for +which it was originally used.</p> +<p>The fables of Babrius have been edited, with an interesting and +valuable introduction, by W.G. Rutherford (1883), and by F.G. +Schneidewin (1880). They have been turned into English metre by +James Davies, M.A. (1860). The reader is also referred to the +article 'Aesop' in the present work.</p> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_1"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>THE NORTH WIND AND THE SUN</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Betwixt the North wind and the Sun arose</p> +<p>A contest, which would soonest of his clothes</p> +<p>Strip a wayfaring clown, so runs the tale.</p> +<p>First, Boreas blows an almost Thracian gale,</p> +<p>Thinking, perforce, to steal the man's capote:</p> +<p>He loosed it not; but as the cold wind smote</p> +<p>More sharply, tighter round him drew the folds,</p> +<p>And sheltered by a crag his station holds.</p> +<p>But now the Sun at first peered gently forth,</p> +<p>And thawed the chills of the uncanny North;</p> +<p>Then in their turn his beams more amply plied,</p> +<p>Till sudden heat the clown's endurance tried;</p> +<p>Stripping himself, away his cloak he flung:</p> +<p>The Sun from Boreas thus a triumph wrung.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The fable means, "My son, at mildness aim:</p> +<p>Persuasion more results than force may claim."</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_2"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1"><b>JUPITER AND THE MONKEY</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A baby-show with prizes Jove decreed</p> +<p>For all the beasts, and gave the choice due heed.</p> +<p>A monkey-mother came among the rest;</p> +<p>A naked, snub-nosed pug upon her breast</p> +<p>She bore, in mother's fashion. At the sight</p> +<p>Assembled gods were moved to laugh outright.</p> +<p>Said she, "Jove knoweth where his prize will fall!</p> +<p>I know my child's the beauty of them all."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>This fable will a general law attest,</p> +<p>That each one deems that what's his own, is best.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_3"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>THE MOUSE THAT FELL INTO THE POT</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A mouse into a lidless broth-pot fell;</p> +<p>Choked with the grease, and bidding life farewell,</p> +<p>He said, "My fill of meat and drink have I</p> +<p>And all good things: 'Tis time that I should die."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou art that dainty mouse among mankind,</p> +<p>If hurtful sweets are not by thee declined.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_4"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"><b>THE FOX AND THE GRAPES</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There hung some bunches of the purple grape</p> +<p>On a hillside. A cunning fox, agape</p> +<p>For these full clusters, many times essayed</p> +<p>To cull their dark bloom, many vain leaps made.</p> +<p>They were quite ripe, and for the vintage fit;</p> +<p>But when his leaps did not avail a whit,</p> +<p>He journeyed on, and thus his grief composed:--</p> +<p>"The bunch was sour, not ripe, as I supposed."</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_5"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>THE CARTER AND HERCULES</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A carter from the village drove his wain:</p> +<p>And when it fell into a rugged lane,</p> +<p>Inactive stood, nor lent a helping hand;</p> +<p>But to that god, whom of the heavenly band</p> +<p>He really honored most, Alcides, prayed:</p> +<p>"Push at your wheels," the god appearing said,</p> +<p>"And goad your team; but when you pray again,</p> +<p>Help yourself likewise, or you'll pray in vain."</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_6"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"><b>THE YOUNG COCKS</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Two Tanagraean cocks a fight began;</p> +<p>Their spirit is, 'tis said, as that of man:</p> +<p>Of these the beaten bird, a mass of blows,</p> +<p>For shame into a corner creeping goes;</p> +<p>The other to the housetop quickly flew,</p> +<p>And there in triumph flapped his wings and crew.</p> +<p>But him an eagle lifted from the roof,</p> +<p>And bore away. His fellow gained a proof</p> +<p>That oft the wages of defeat are best,--</p> +<p>None else remained the hens to interest.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>WHEREFORE, O man, beware of boastfulness:</p> +<p>Should fortune lift thee, others to depress,</p> +<p>Many are saved by lack of her caress.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_7"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1"><b>THE ARAB AND THE CAMEL</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>An Arab, having heaped his camel's back,</p> +<p>Asked if he chose to take the upward track</p> +<p>Or downward; and the beast had sense to say</p> +<p>"Am I cut off then from the level way?"</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_8"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE SWALLOW</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Far from men's fields the swallow forth had flown,</p> +<p>When she espied amid the woodlands lone</p> +<p>The nightingale, sweet songstress. Her lament</p> +<p>Was Itys to his doom untimely sent.</p> +<p>Each knew the other through the mournful strain,</p> +<p>Flew to embrace, and in sweet talk remain.</p> +<p>Then said the swallow, "Dearest, liv'st thou still?</p> +<p>Ne'er have I seen thee, since thy Thracian ill.</p> +<p>Some cruel fate hath ever come between;</p> +<p>Our virgin lives till now apart have been.</p> +<p>Come to the fields; revisit homes of men;</p> +<p>Come dwell with me, a comrade dear, again,</p> +<p>Where thou shalt charm the swains, no savage brood:</p> +<p>Dwell near men's haunts, and quit the open wood:</p> +<p>One roof, one chamber, sure, can house the two,</p> +<p>Or dost prefer the nightly frozen dew,</p> +<p>And day-god's heat? a wild-wood life and drear?</p> +<p>Come, clever songstress, to the light more near."</p> +<p>To whom the sweet-voiced nightingale replied:--</p> +<p>"Still on these lonesome ridges let me bide;</p> +<p>Nor seek to part me from the mountain glen:--</p> +<p>I shun, since Athens, man, and haunts of men;</p> +<p>To mix with them, their dwelling-place to view,</p> +<p>Stirs up old grief, and opens woes anew."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Some consolation for an evil lot</p> +<p>Lies in wise words, in song, in crowds forgot.</p> +<p>But sore the pang, when, where you once were great,</p> +<p>Again men see you, housed in mean estate.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_9"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>THE HUSBANDMAN AND THE STORK</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thin nets a farmer o'er his furrows spread,</p> +<p>And caught the cranes that on his tillage fed;</p> +<p>And him a limping stork began to pray,</p> +<p>Who fell with them into the farmer's way:--</p> +<p>"I am no crane: I don't consume the grain:</p> +<p>That I'm a stork is from my color plain;</p> +<p>A stork, than which no better bird doth live;</p> +<p>I to my father aid and succor give."</p> +<p>The man replied:--"Good stork, I cannot tell</p> +<p>Your way of life: but this I know full well,</p> +<p>I caught you with the spoilers of my seed;</p> +<p>With them, with whom I found you, you must bleed."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Walk with the bad, and hate will be as strong</p> +<p>'Gainst you as them, e'en though you no man wrong.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_10"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>THE PINE</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Some woodmen, bent a forest pine to split,</p> +<p>Into each fissure sundry wedges fit,</p> +<p>To keep the void and render work more light.</p> +<p>Out groaned the pine, "Why should I vent my spite</p> +<p>Against the axe which never touched my root,</p> +<p>So much as these cursed wedges, mine own fruit;</p> +<p>Which rend me through, inserted here and there!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A fable this, intended to declare</p> +<p>That not so dreadful is a stranger's blow</p> +<p>As wrongs which men receive from those they know.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_11"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>THE WOMAN AND HER MAID-SERVANTS</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A very careful dame, of busy way,</p> +<p>Kept maids at home, and these, ere break of day,</p> +<p>She used to raise as early as cock-crow.</p> +<p>They thought 'twas hard to be awakened so,</p> +<p>And o'er wool-spinning be at work so long;</p> +<p>Hence grew within them all a purpose strong</p> +<p>To kill the house-cock, whom they thought to blame</p> +<p>For all their wrongs. But no advantage came;</p> +<p>Worse treatment than the former them befell:</p> +<p>For when the hour their mistress could not tell</p> +<p>At which by night the cock was wont to crow,</p> +<p>She roused them earlier, to their work to go.</p> +<p>A harder lot the wretched maids endured.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Bad judgment oft hath such results procured.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_12"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>THE LAMP</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A lamp that swam with oil, began to boast</p> +<p>At eve, that it outshone the starry host,</p> +<p>And gave more light to all. Her boast was heard:</p> +<p>Soon the wind whistled; soon the breezes stirred,</p> +<p>And quenched its light. A man rekindled it,</p> +<p>And said, "Brief is the faint lamp's boasting fit,</p> +<p>But the starlight ne'er needs to be re-lit."</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<a name="BABRIUS_13"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To the shy hare the tortoise smiling spoke,</p> +<p>When he about her feet began to joke:</p> +<p>"I'll pass thee by, though fleeter than the gale."</p> +<p>"Pooh!" said the hare, "I don't believe thy tale.</p> +<p>Try but one course, and thou my speed shalt know."</p> +<p>"Who'll fix the prize, and whither we shall go?"</p> +<p>Of the fleet-footed hare the tortoise asked.</p> +<p>To whom he answered, "Reynard shall be tasked</p> +<p>With this; that subtle fox, whom thou dost see."</p> +<p>The tortoise then (no hesitater she!)</p> +<p>Kept jogging on, but earliest reached the post;</p> +<p>The hare, relying on his fleetness, lost</p> +<p>Space, during sleep, he thought he could recover</p> +<p>When he awoke. But then the race was over;</p> +<p>The tortoise gained her aim, and slept <i>her</i> sleep.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>From negligence doth care the vantage reap.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>FRANCIS <a name="BACON"></a>BACON</h2> +<h3>(1561-1626)</h3> +<h3>BY CHARLTON T. LEWIS</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>he startling contrasts of splendor and humiliation which marked +the life of Bacon, and the seemingly incredible inconsistencies +which hasty observers find in his character, have been the themes +of much rhetorical declamation, and even of serious and learned +debate. From Ben Jonson in his own day, to James Spedding the +friend of Tennyson, he has not lacked eminent eulogists, who look +up to him as not only the greatest and wisest, but as among the +noblest and most worthy of mankind: while the famous epigram of +Pope, expanded by Macaulay into a stately and eloquent essay, has +impressed on the popular mind the lowest estimate of his moral +nature; and even such careful scholars as Charles de Rémusat +and Dean Church, who have devoted careful and instructive volumes +to the survey of Bacon's career and works, insist that with all his +intellectual supremacy, he was a servile courtier, a false friend, +and a corrupt judge. Yet there are few important names in human +history of men who have left us so complete materials for a just +judgment of their conduct; and it is only a lover of paradox who +can read these and still regard Bacon's character as an unsolved +problem.</p> +<p>Mr. Spedding has given a long life of intelligent labor to the +collection of every fact and document throwing light upon the +motives, aims, and thoughts of the great "Chancellor of Nature," +from the cradle to the grave. The results are before us in the +seven volumes of 'The Letters and the Life of Francis Bacon,' which +form perhaps the most complete biography ever written. It is a book +of absolute candor as well as infinite research, giving with equal +distinctness all the evidence which makes for its hero's dishonor +and that which tends to justify the writer's reverence for him. +Another work by Mr. Spedding, 'Evenings with a Reviewer,' in two +volumes, is an elaborate refutation, from the original and +authentic records, of the most damning charges brought by Lord +Macaulay against Bacon's good fame. It is a complete and +overwhelming exposure of false coloring, of rhetorical artifices, +and of the abuse of evidence, in the famous essay. As one of the +most entertaining and instructive pieces of controversy in our +literature, it deserves to be widely read. The unbiased reader +cannot accept the special pleading by which, in his comments, +Spedding makes every failing of Bacon "lean to virtue's side"; but +will form upon the unquestioned facts presented a clear conception +of him, will come to know him as no other man of an age so remote +is known, and will find in his many-sided and magnificent nature a +full explanation of the impressions which partial views of it have +made upon his worshipers and his detractors.</p> +<p>It is only in his maturity, indeed, that we are privileged to +enter into his mind and read his heart. But enough is known of the +formative period of his life to show us the sources of his +weaknesses and of his strength. The child whom high authorities +have regarded as endowed with the mightiest intellect of the human +race was born at York House, on the Strand, in the third year of +Elizabeth's reign, January 22d, 1561. He was the son of the Queen's +Lord Keeper of the Seals, Sir Nicholas Bacon, and his second wife +Anne, daughter of Sir Anthony Cook, formerly tutor of King Edward +VI. Mildred, an elder daughter of the same scholar, was the wife of +William Cecil, Lord Burghley, who for the first forty years of her +reign was Elizabeth's chief minister. As a child Bacon was a +favorite at court, and tradition represents him as something of a +pet of the Queen, who called him "my young Lord Keeper." His mother +was among the most learned women of an age when, among women of +rank, great learning was as common and as highly prized as great +beauty; and her influence was a potent intellectual stimulus to the +boy, although he revolted in early youth from the narrow creed +which her fierce Puritan zeal strove to impose on her household. +Outside of the nursery, the atmosphere of his world was that of +craft, all directed to one end; for the Queen was the source of +honor, power, and wealth, and advancement in life meant only a +share in the grace distributed through her ministers and favorites. +Apart from the harsh and forbidding religious teachings of his +mother, young Francis had before him neither precept nor example of +an ambition more worthy than that of courting the smiles of +power.</p> +<br> +<a name="image208.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image208.jpg"><img src= +"images/image208.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></a></p> +<br> +<p>At the age of twelve he entered Trinity College, Cambridge +(April, 1573), and left it before he was fifteen (Christmas, 1575); +the institution meanwhile having been broken up for more than half +a year (August, 1574, to March, 1575) by the plague, so that his +intermittent university career summed up less than fourteen months. +There is no record of his studies, and the names of his teachers +are unknown; for though Bacon in later years called himself a pupil +of Whitgift, and his biographers assumed that the relation was +direct and personal, yet that great master of Trinity had certainly +ended his teaching days before Bacon went to Cambridge, and had +entered as Dean of Lincoln on his splendid ecclesiastical career. +University life was very different from that of our times. The +statutes of Cambridge forbade a student, under penalties, to use in +conversation with another any language but Latin, Greek, or Hebrew, +unless in his private apartments and in hours of leisure. It was a +regular custom at Trinity to bring before the assembled +undergraduates every Thursday evening at seven o'clock such junior +students as had been detected in breaches of the rules during the +week, and to flog them. It would be interesting to know in what +languages young Bacon conversed, and what experiences of discipline +befell him; but his subsequent achievements at least suggest that +Cambridge in the sixteenth century may have afforded more efficient +educational influences than our knowledge of its resources and +methods can explain. For it is certain that, at an age when our +most promising youths are beginning serious study, Bacon's mind was +already formed, his habits and modes of research were fixed, the +universe of knowledge was an open field before him. Thenceforth he +was no man's pupil, but in intellectual independence and solitude +he rapidly matured into the supreme scholar of his age.</p> +<p>After registering as a student of law at Gray's Inn, apparently +for the purpose of a nominal connection with a profession which +might aid his patrons in promoting him at court, Bacon was sent in +June, 1576, to France in the train of the British Ambassador, Sir +Amyas Paulet; and for nearly three years followed the roving +embassy around the great cities of that kingdom. The massacre of +St. Bartholomew had taken place four years before, and the boy's +recorded observations on the troubled society of France and of +Europe show remarkable insight into the character of princes and +the sources of political movements. Sir Nicholas had hitherto +directed his son's education and associations with the purpose of +making him an ornament of the court, and had set aside a fund to +provide Francis at the proper time with a handsome estate. But he +died suddenly, February 20th, 1579, without giving legal effect to +this provision, and the sum designed for the young student was +divided equally among the five children, while Francis was excluded +from a share in the rest of the family fortune; and was thus called +home to England to find himself a poor man.</p> +<p>He made himself a bachelor's home at Gray's Inn, and devoted his +energies to the law, with such success that he was soon recognized +as one of the most promising members of the profession. In 1584 he +entered Parliament for Melcombe Regis in Somersetshire, and two +years later sat for Liverpool. During these years the schism +between his inner and his outer life continued to widen. Drawing +his first breath in the atmosphere of the court, bred in the faith +that honor and greatness come from princes' favor, with a native +taste for luxury and magnificence which was fostered by delicate +health, he steadily looked for advancement through the influence of +Burghley and the smiles of the Queen. But Burghley had no sympathy +with speculative thought, and distrusted him for his confidences +concerning his higher studies, while he probably feared in Bacon a +dangerous rival of his own son; so that with expressions of kind +interest, he refrained from giving his nephew practical aid. +Elizabeth, too, suspected that a young man who knew so many things +could not be trusted to know his own business well, and preferred +for important professional work others who were lawyers and nothing +besides. Thus Bacon appeared to the world as a disappointed and +uneasy courtier, struggling to keep up a certain splendor of +appearance and associations under a growing load of debt, and +servile to a Queen on whose caprice his prospects of a career must +depend. His unquestioned power at the bar was exercised only in +minor causes; his eloquence and political dexterity found slow +recognition in Parliament, where they represented only themselves; +and the question whether he would ever be a man of note in the +kingdom seemed for twenty-five years to turn upon what the Crown +might do for its humble suitor.</p> +<p>Meanwhile this laborious advocate and indefatigable courtier, +whose labors at the bar and in attendance upon his great friends +were enough to fill the days of two ordinary men, led his real life +in secret, unknown to the world, and uncomprehended even by the few +in whom he had divined a capacity for great thought, and whom he +had selected for his confidants. From his childhood at the +university, where he felt the emptiness of the Aristotelian logic, +the instrument for attaining truth which traditional learning had +consecrated, he had gradually formed the conception of a more +fruitful process. He had become convinced that the learning of all +past ages was but a poor result of the intellectual capacities and +labors which had been employed upon it; that the human mind had +never yet been properly used; that the methods hitherto adopted in +research were but treadmill work, returning upon itself, or at best +could produce but fragmentary and accidental additions to the sum +of knowledge. All nature is crammed with truth, he believed, which +it concerns man to discover; the intellect of man is constructed +for its discovery, and needs but to be purged of errors of every +kind, and directed in the most efficient employment of its +faculties, to make sure that all the secrets of nature will be +revealed, and its powers made tributary to the health, comfort, +enjoyment, and progressive improvement of mankind.</p> +<p>This stupendous conception, of a revolution which should +transform the world, seems to have taken definite form in Bacon's +mind as early as his twenty-fifth year, when he embodied the +outline of it in a Latin treatise; which he destroyed in later +life, unpublished, as immature, and partly no doubt because he came +to recognize in it an unbecoming arrogance of tone, for its title +was 'Temporis Partus Maximus' (The Greatest Birth of Time.) But six +years later he defines these "vast contemplative ends" in his +famous letter to Burghley, asking for preferment which will enable +him to prosecute his grand scheme and to employ other minds in aid +of it. "For I have taken all knowledge to be my province," he says, +"and if I could purge it of two sorts of rovers, whereof the one +with frivolous disputations, confutations, and verbosities, the +other with blind experiments and auricular traditions and +impostures, hath committed so many spoils, I hope I should bring in +industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable +inventions and discoveries: the best state of that province. This, +whether it be curiosity or vain glory, or nature, or (if one take +it favorably) <i>philanthropia</i> is so fixed in my mind as it +cannot be removed."</p> +<p>This letter reveals the secret of Bacon's life, and all that we +know of him, read in the light of it, forms a consistent and +harmonious whole. He was possessed by his vast scheme, for a +reformation of the intellectual world, and through it, of the world +of human experience, as fully as was ever apostle by his faith. +Implicitly believing in his own ability to accomplish it, at least +in its grand outlines, and to leave at his death the community of +mind at work, by the method and for the purposes which he had +defined, with the perfection of all science in full view, he +subordinated every other ambition to this; and in seeking and +enjoying place, power, and wealth, still regarded them mainly as +aids in prosecuting his master purpose, and in introducing it to +the world. With this clearly in mind, it is easy to understand his +subsequent career. Its external details may be read in any of the +score of biographies which writers of all grades of merit and +demerit have devoted to him, and there is no space for them here. +For our purpose it is necessary to refer only to the principal +crises in his public life.</p> +<p>Until the death of Elizabeth, Bacon had no place in the royal +service worthy of his abilities as a lawyer. Many who, even in the +narrowest professional sense, were far inferior to him, were +preferred before him. Yet he obtained a position recognized by all, +and second only in legal learning to his lifelong rival and +constant adversary, Sir Edward Coke. To-day, it is probable that if +the two greatest names in the history of the common law were to be +selected by the suffrages of the profession, the great majority +would be cast for Coke and Bacon. As a master of the intricacies of +precedent and an authority upon the detailed formulas of "the +perfection of reason," the former is unrivaled still; but in the +comprehensive grasp of the law as a system for the maintenance of +social order and the protection of individual rights, Bacon rose +far above him. The cherished aim of his professional career was to +survey the whole body of the laws of England, to produce a digest +of them which should result in a harmonious code, to do away with +all that was found obsolete or inconsistent with the principles of +the system, and thus to adapt the living, progressive body of the +law to the wants of the growing nation. This magnificent plan was +beyond the power of any one man, had his life no other task, but he +suggested the method and the aim; and while for six generations +after these legal giants passed away, the minute, accurate, and +profound learning of Coke remained the acknowledged chief +storehouse of British traditional jurisprudence, the seventh +generation took up the work of revision and reform, and from the +time of Bentham and Austin the progress of legal science has been +toward codification. The contest between the aggregation of +empirical rules and formulated customs which Coke taught as the +common law, and the broad, harmonious application of scientific +reason to the definition and enforcement of rights, still goes on; +but with constant gains on the side of the reformers, all of whom +with one consent confess that no general and complete +reconstruction of legal doctrine as a science is possible, except +upon the lines laid down by Bacon.</p> +<p>The most memorable case in which Bacon was employed to represent +the Crown during Elizabeth's life was the prosecution of the Earl +of Essex for treason. Essex had been Bacon's friend, patron, and +benefactor; and as long as the earl remained faithful to the Queen +and retained her favor, Bacon served him with ready zeal and +splendid efficiency, and showed himself the wisest and most sincere +of counselors. When Essex rejected his advice, forfeited the +Queen's confidence by the follies from which Bacon had earnestly +striven to deter him, and finally plunged into wanton and reckless +rebellion, Bacon, with whom loyalty to his sovereign had always +been the supreme duty, accepted a retainer from the Crown, and +assisted Coke in the prosecution. The crime of Essex was the +greatest of which a subject was capable; it lacked no circumstance +of aggravation; if the most astounding instance of ingratitude and +disloyalty to friendship ever known is to be sought in that age, it +will be found in the conduct of Essex to Bacon's royal mistress. +Yet writers of eloquence have exhausted their rhetorical powers in +denouncing Bacon's faithlessness to his friend. But no impartial +reader of the full story in the documents of the time can doubt +that throughout these events Bacon did his duty and no more, and +that in doing it he not merely made a voluntary sacrifice of his +popularity, but a far more painful sacrifice of his personal +feelings.</p> +<p>In 1603 James I. came to the throne, and in spite of the efforts +of his most trusted ministers to keep Bacon in obscurity, soon +discovered in him a man whom he needed. In 1607 he was made +Solicitor-General; in 1613 Attorney-General; in March 1617, on the +death of Lord Ellesmere, he received the seals as Lord Keeper; and +in January following was made Lord Chancellor of England. In July +1618 he was raised to the permanent peerage as Baron Verulam, and +in January 1621 received the title of Viscount St. Albans. During +these three years he was the first subject in the kingdom in +dignity, and ought to have been the first in influence. His advice +to the King, and to the Duke of Buckingham who was the King's king, +was always judicious. In certain cardinal points of policy, it was +of the highest statesmanship; and had it been followed, the history +of the Stuart dynasty would have been different, and the Crown and +the Parliament would have wrought together for the good and the +honor of the nation, at least through a generation to come. But the +upstart Buckingham was supreme. He had studied Bacon's strength and +weakness, had laid him under great obligations, had at the same +time attached him by the strongest tie of friendship to his person, +and impressed upon his consciousness the fact that the fate of +Bacon was at all times in his hands. The new Chancellor had entered +on his great office with a fixed purpose to reform its abuses, to +speed and cheapen justice, to free its administration from every +influence of wealth and power. In the first three months of service +he brought up the large arrears of business, tried every cause, +heard every petition, and acquired a splendid reputation as an +upright and diligent judge. But Buckingham was his evil angel. He +was without sense of the sanctity of the judicial character; and +regarded the bench, like every other public office, as an +instrument of his own interests and will. On the other hand, to +Bacon the voice of Buckingham was the voice of the King, and he had +been taught from infancy as the beginning of his political creed +that the king can do no wrong. Buckingham began at once to solicit +from Bacon favors for his friends and dependants, and the +Chancellor was weak enough to listen and to answer him. There is no +evidence that in any one instance the favorite asked for the +violation of law or the perversion of justice; much less that Bacon +would or did accede to such a request. But the Duke demanded for +one suitor a speedy hearing, for another a consideration of facts +which might not be in evidence, for a third all the favor +consistent with law; and Bacon reported to him the result, and how +far he had been able to oblige him. This persistent tampering with +the source of justice was a disturbing influence in the +Chancellor's court, and unquestionably lowered the dignity of his +attitude and weakened his judicial conscience.</p> +<p>Notwithstanding this, when the Lord Chancellor opened the +Parliament in January, 1621, with a speech in praise of his King +and in honor of the nation, he seemed to be at the summit of +earthly prosperity. No voice had been lifted to question his purity +and worth. He was the friend of the King, one of the chief supports +of the throne, a champion indeed of high prerogative, but an orator +of power, a writer of fame, whose advancement to the highest +dignities had been welcomed by public opinion. Four months later he +was a convicted criminal, sentenced for judicial corruption to +imprisonment at the King's pleasure, to a fine of £40,000, +and to perpetual incapacity for any public employment. Vicissitudes +of fortune are commonplaces of history. Many a man once seemingly +pinnacled on the top of greatness has "shot from the zenith like a +falling star," and become a proverb of the fickleness of fate. Some +are torn down by the very traits of mind, passion, or temper, which +have raised them: ambition which overleaps itself, rashness which +hazards all on chances it cannot control, vast abilities not great +enough to achieve the impossible. The plunge of Icarus into the +sea, the murder of Caesar, the imprisonment of Coeur de Lion, the +abdication of Napoleon, the apprehension as a criminal of Jefferson +Davis, each was a startling and impressive contrast to the glory +which it followed, yet each was the natural result of causes which +lay in the character and life of the sufferer, and made his story a +consistent whole. But the pathos of Bacon's fall is the sudden +moral ruin of a life which had been built up in honor for sixty +years. An intellect of the first rank, which from boyhood to old +age had been steadfast in the pursuit of truth and in the noblest +services to mankind, which in a feeble body had been sustained in +vigor by all the virtues of prudence and self-reverence; a genial +nature, winning the affection and admiration of associates, hardly +paralleled in the industry with which its energies were devoted to +useful work, a soul exceptional among its contemporaries for piety +and philanthropy--this man is represented to us by popular writers +as having habitually sold justice for money, and as having become +in office "the meanest of mankind."</p> +<p>But this picture, as so often drawn, and as seemingly fixed in +the popular mind, is not only impossible, but is demonstrably +false. To review all the facts which correct it in detail would +lead us far beyond our limits. It must suffice to refer to the +great work of Spedding, in which the entire records of the case are +found, and which would long ago have made the world just to Bacon's +fame, but that the author's comment on his own complete and fair +record is itself partial and extravagant. But the materials for a +final judgment are accessible to all in Spedding's volumes, and a +candid reading of them solves the enigma. Bacon was condemned +without a trial, on his own confession, and this confession was +consistent with the tenor of his life. Its substance was that he +had failed to put a stop effectually to the immemorial custom in +his court of receiving presents from suitors, but that he had never +deviated from justice in his decrees. There was no instance in +which he was accused of yielding to the influence of gifts, or +passing judgment for a bribe. No act of his as Chancellor was +impeached as illegal, or reversed as corrupt. Suitors complained +that they had sent sums of money or valuable presents to his court, +and had been disappointed in the result; but no one complained of +injustice in a decision. Bacon was a conspicuous member of the +royal party; and when the storm of popular fury broke in Parliament +upon the court, the King and the ministry abandoned him. He had +stood all his life upon the royal favor as the basis of his +strength and hope; and when it was gone from under him, he sank +helplessly, and refused to attempt a defense. But he still in his +humiliation found comfort in the reflection that his ruin would put +an end to "anything that is in the likeness of corruption" among +the judges. And he wrote, in the hour of his deepest distress, that +he had been "the justest Chancellor that hath been in the five +changes that have been since Sir Nicholas Bacon's time." Nor did +any man of his time venture to contradict him, when in later years +he summed up his case in the words, "I was the justest judge that +was in England these fifty years. But it was the justest censure in +Parliament that was these two hundred years."</p> +<p>No revolution of modern times has been more complete than that +which the last two centuries have silently wrought in the customary +morality of British public life, and in the standards by which it +is judged. Under James I. every office of state was held as the +private property of its occupant. The highest places in the +government were conferred only on condition of large payments to +the King. He openly sold the honors and dignities of which he was +the source. "The making of a baron," that is, the right to sell to +some rich plebeian a patent of nobility, was a common grant to +favorites, and was actually bestowed on Bacon, to aid him in +maintaining the state of his office. We have the testimony of James +himself that all the lawyers, of whom the judges of the realm were +made, were "so bred and nursed in corruption that they cannot leave +it." But the line between what the King called corruption and that +which he and all his ministers practiced openly and habitually, as +part of the regular work of government, is dim and hard to define. +The mind of the community had not yet firmly grasped the conception +of public office as a trust for the public good, and the general +opinion which stimulates and sustains the official conscience in +holding this trust sacred was still unformed. The courts of justice +were the first branch of the government to feel the pressure of +public opinion, and to respond to the demand for impersonal and +impartial right. But this process had only begun when Bacon, who +had never before served as judge, was called to preside in +Chancery. The Chancellor's office was a gradual development: +originally political and administrative rather than judicial, and +with no salary or reward for hearing causes, save the voluntary +presents of suitors who asked its interference with the ordinary +courts, it step by step became the highest tribunal of the equity +which limits and corrects the routine of law, and still the custom +of gifts was unchecked. A careful study of Bacon's career shows +that in this, as every other branch of thought, his theoretic +convictions were in advance of his age; and in his advice to the +King and in his inaugural promises as Chancellor, he foreshadows +all the principles on which the wisest reformers of the public +service now insist. But he failed to apply them with that heroic +self-sacrifice which alone would have availed him, and the forces +of custom and example continually encroached upon his views of +duty. Having through a long life sought advancement and wealth for +the purpose of using leisure and independence to carry out his +beneficent plans on the largest scale, he eagerly accepted the +traditional emoluments of his new position, in the conviction that +they would become in his hands the means of vast good to mankind. +It was only the public exposure which fully awakened him to a sense +of the inconsistency and wrong of his conduct; and then he was +himself his severest judge, and made every reparation in his power, +by the most unreserved confession, by pointing out the danger to +society of such weakness as his own in language to whose +effectiveness nothing could be added, and by devoting the remainder +of his life to the noblest work for humanity.</p> +<p>During the years of Bacon's splendor as a member of the +government and as spokesman for the throne, his real life as a +thinker, inspired by the loftiest ambition which ever entered the +mind of man, that of creating a new and better civilization, was +not interrupted. It was probably in 1603 that he wrote his +fragmentary 'Prooemium de Interpretatione Naturae,' or 'Preface to +a Treatise on Interpreting Nature,' which is the only piece of +autobiography he has left us. It was found among his papers after +his death; and its candor, dignity, and enthusiasm of tone are in +harmony with the imaginative grasp and magnificent suggestiveness +of its thought. Commending the original Latin to all who can +appreciate its eloquence, we cite the first sentences of it in +English:--</p> +<blockquote>"Believing that I was born for the service of mankind, +and regarding the care of the Commonwealth as a kind of common +property which, like the air and water, belongs to everybody, I set +myself to consider in what way mankind might be best served, and +what service I was myself best fitted by nature to perform.<br> +<br> +"Now, among all the benefits that could be conferred upon mankind, +I found none so great as the discovery of new arts for the +bettering of human life. For I saw that among the rude people of +early times, inventors and discoverers were reckoned as gods. It +was seen that the works of founders of States, law-givers, +tyrant-destroyers, and heroes cover but narrow spaces and endure +but for a time; while the work of the inventor, though of less +pomp, is felt everywhere and lasts forever. But above all, if a man +could, I do not say devise some invention, however useful, but +kindle a light in nature--a light which, even in rising, should +touch and illuminate the borders of existing knowledge, and +spreading further on should bring to light all that is most +secret--that man, in my view, would be indeed the benefactor of +mankind, the extender of man's empire over nature, the champion of +freedom, the conqueror of fate.<br> +<br> +"For myself, I found that I was fitted for nothing so well as for +the study of Truth: as having a mind nimble and versatile enough to +discern resemblances in things (the main point), and yet steady +enough to distinguish the subtle differences in them; as being +endowed with zeal to seek, patience to doubt, love of meditation, +slowness of assertion, readiness to reconsider, carefulness to +arrange and set in order; and as being a man that affects not the +new nor admires the old, but hates all imposture. So I thought my +nature had a certain familiarity and kindred with +Truth."</blockquote> +<p>During the next two years he applied himself to the composition +of the treatise on the 'Advancement of Learning,' the greatest of +his English writings, and one which contains the seed-thoughts and +outline principles of all his philosophy. From the time of its +publication in 1605 to his fall in 1621, he continued to frame the +plan of his 'Great Instauration' of human knowledge, and to write +out chapters, books, passages, sketches, designed to take their +places in it as essential parts. It was to include six great +divisions: first, a general survey of existing knowledge; second, a +guide to the use of the intellect in research, purging it of +sources of error, and furnishing it with the new instrument of +inductive logic by which all the laws of nature might be +ascertained; third, a structure of the phenomena of nature, +included in one hundred and thirty particular branches of natural +history, as the materials for the new logic; fourth, a series of +types and models of the entire mental process of discovering truth, +"selecting various and remarkable instances"; fifth, specimens of +the new philosophy, or anticipations of its results, in fragmentary +contributions to the sixth and crowning division, which was to set +forth the new philosophy in its completeness, comprehending the +truths to be discovered by a perfected instrument of reasoning, in +interpreting all the phenomena of the world. Well aware that the +scheme, especially in its concluding part, was far beyond the power +and time of any one man, he yet hoped to be the architect of the +final edifice of science, by drawing its plans and making them +intelligible, leaving their perfect execution to an intellectual +world which could not fail to be moved to its supreme effort by a +comprehension of the work before it. The 'Novum Organum,' itself +but a fragment of the second division of the 'Instauration,' the +key to the use of the intellect in the discovery of truth, was +published in Latin at the height of his splendor as Lord +Chancellor, in 1620, and is his most memorable achievement in +philosophy. It contains a multitude of suggestive thoughts on the +whole field of science, but is mainly the exposition of the +fallacies by which the intellect is deceived and misled, and from +which it must be purged in order to attain final truth, and of the +new doctrine of "prerogative instances," or crucial observations +and experiments in the work of discovery.</p> +<p>In short, Bacon's entire achievement in science is a plan for an +impossible universe of knowledge. As far as he attempted to advance +particular sciences by applying his method to their detailed +phenomena, he wrought with imperfect knowledge of what had been +done, and with cumbrous and usually misdirected efforts to fill the +gaps he recognized. In a few instances, by what seems an almost +superhuman instinct for truth, rather than the laborious process of +investigation which he taught, he anticipated brilliant discoveries +of later centuries. For example, he clearly pointed out the +necessity of regarding heat as a form of motion in the molecules of +matter, and thus foreshadowed, without any conception of the means +of proving it, that which, for investigators of the nineteenth +century, has proved the most direct way to the secrets of nature. +But the testimony of the great teachers of science is unanimous, +that Bacon was not a skilled observer of phenomena, nor a +discoverer of scientific inductions; that he contributed no +important new truth, in the sense of an established law, to any +department of knowledge; and that his method of research and +reasoning is not, in its essential features, that which is +fruitfully pursued by them in extending the boundaries of science, +nor was his mind wholly purged of those "idols of the cave," or +forms of personal bias, whose varying forms as hindrances to the +"dry light" of sound reason he was the first to expose. He never +appreciated the mathematics as the basis of physics, but valued +their elements mainly as a mental discipline. Astronomy meant +little to him, since he failed to connect it directly with human +well-being and improvement; to the system of Copernicus, the +beginning of our insight into the heavens, he was hostile, or at +least indifferent; and the splendid discoveries successively made +by Tycho Brahe, Galileo, and Kepler, and brought to his ears while +the 'Great Instauration' filled his mind and heart, met with but a +feeble welcome with him, or none. Why is it, then, that Bacon's is +the foremost name in the history of English, and perhaps, as many +insist, of all modern thought? Why is it that "the Baconian +philosophy" is another phrase, in all the languages of Europe, for +that splendid development of the study and knowledge of the visible +universe which since his time has changed the life of mankind?</p> +<p>A candid answer to these questions will expose an error as wide +in the popular estimate of Bacon's intellectual greatness as that +which has prevailed so generally regarding his character. He is +called the inventor of inductive reasoning, the reformer of logic, +the lawgiver of the world of thought; but he was no one of these. +His grasp of the inductive method was defective; his logic was +clumsy and impractical; his plan for registering all phenomena and +selecting and generalizing from them, making the discovery of truth +almost a mechanical process, was worthless. In short, it is not as +a philosopher nor as a man of science that Bacon has carved his +name in the high places of enduring fame, but rather as a man of +letters; as on the whole the greatest writer of the modern world, +outside of the province of imaginative art; as the Shakespeare of +English prose. Does this seem a paradox to the reader who remembers +that Bacon distrusted all modern languages, and thought to make his +'Advancement of Learning' "live, and be a citizen of the world," by +giving it a Latin form? That his lifelong ambition was to +reconstruct methods of thought, and guide intellect in the way of +work serviceable to comfort and happiness? That the books in which +his English style appears in its perfection, the 'History of Henry +VII.,' the 'Essays,' and the papers on public affairs, were but +incidents and avocations of a life absorbed by a master +purpose?</p> +<p>But what is literature? It is creative mind, addressing itself +in worthy expression to the common receptive mind of mankind. Its +note is universality, as distinguished from all that is technical, +limited, and narrow. Thought whose interest is as broad as +humanity, suitably clothed in the language of real life, and thus +fitted for access to the general intelligence, constitutes true +literature, to the exclusion of that which, by its nature or by its +expression, appeals only to a special class or school. The 'Opus +Anglicanum' of Duns Scotus, Newton's 'Principia,' Lavoisier's +treatise 'Sur la Combustion,' Kant's 'Kritik der Reinen Vernunft' +(Critique of Pure Reason), each made an epoch in some vast domain +of knowledge or belief; but none of them is literature. Yet the +thoughts they, through a limited and specially trained class of +students, introduced to the world, were gradually taken up into the +common stock of mankind, and found their broad, effective, complete +expression in the literature of after generations. If we apply this +test to Bacon's life work, we shall find sufficient justification +for honoring him above all special workers in narrower fields, as +next to Shakespeare the greatest name in the greatest period of +English literature.</p> +<p>It was not as an experimenter, investigator, or technical +teacher, but as a thinker and a writer, that he rendered his great +service to the world. This consisted essentially in the +contribution of two magnificent ideas to the common stock of +thought: the idea of the utility of science, as able to subjugate +the forces of nature to the use of man; and the idea of continued +and boundless progress in the comfort and happiness of the +individual life, and in the order and dignity of human society. It +has been shown how, from early manhood, he was inspired by the +conception of infinite resources in the material world, for the +discovery and employment of which the human mind is adapted. He +never wearied of pointing out the imperfection and fruitlessness of +the methods of inquiry and of invention hitherto in use, and the +splendid results which could be rapidly attained if a combined and +systematic effort were made to enlarge the boundaries of knowledge. +This led him directly to the conception of an improved and +advancing civilization; to the utterance, in a thousand varied, +impressive, and fascinating forms, of that idea of human progress +which is the inspiration, the characteristic, and the hope of the +modern world. Bacon was the first of men to grasp these ideas in +all their comprehensiveness as feasible purposes, as practical +aims; to teach the development of them as the supreme duty and +ambition of his contemporaries, and to look forward instead of +behind him for the Golden Age. Enforcing and applying these +thoughts with a wealth of learning, a keenness of wit, a soundness +of judgment, and a suggestiveness of illustration unequaled by any +writer before him, he became the greatest literary power of modern +times to stimulate minds in every department of life to their +noblest efforts and their worthiest achievements.</p> +<p>Literature has a twofold aspect: its ideal is pure truth, which +is the noblest thought embodied in perfect beauty of form. It is +the union of science and art, the final wedding in which are merged +the knowledge worthy to be known and the highest imagination +presenting it. There is a school calling itself that of pure art, +to which substance is nothing and form is everything. Its measure +of merit is applied to the manner only; and the meanest of +subjects, the most trivial and even the most degraded of ideas or +facts, is welcomed to its high places if clothed in a satisfying +garb. But this school, though arrogant in the other arts of +expression, has not yet been welcomed to the judgment-seat in +literature, where indeed it is passing even now to contempt and +oblivion. Bacon's instinct was for substance. His strongest passion +was for utility. The artistic side of his nature was receptive +rather than creative. Splendid passages in the 'Advancement' and +'De Augmentis' show his profound appreciation of all the arts of +expression, but show likewise his inability to glorify them above +that which they express. In his mind, language is subordinate to +thought, and the painting to the picture, just as the frame is to +the painting or the binding to the book. He writes always in the +grand style. He reminds us of "the large utterance of the early +gods." His sentences are weighted with thought, as suggestive as +Plato, as condensed as Thucydides. Full of wit, keen in discerning +analogies, rich in intellectual ornament, he is yet too +concentrated in his attention to the idea to care for the melody of +language. He decorates with fruits, not with flowers. For metrical +movement, for rhythmic harmony, he has no ear nor sense. +Inconceivable as it is that Shakespeare could have written one +aphorism of the 'Novum Organum,' it would be far more absurd to +imagine Bacon writing a line of the Sonnets. With the loftiest +imagination, the liveliest fancy, the keenest sense of precision +and appropriateness in words, he lacks the special gift of poetic +form, the faculty divine which finds new inspiration in the very +limitations of measured language, and whose natural expression is +music alike to the ear and to the mind. His powers were cramped by +the fetters of metre, and his attempts to versify even rich thought +and deep feeling were puerile. But his prose is by far the +weightiest, the most lucid, effective, and pleasing of his day. The +poet Sprat justly says:--</p> +<blockquote>"He was a man of strong, clear, and powerful +imaginations; his genius was searching and inimitable; and of this +I need give no other proof than his style itself, which as for the +most part it describes men's minds as well as pictures do their +bodies, so it did his above all men living."</blockquote> +<p>And Ben Jonson, who knew him well, describes his eloquence in +terms which are confirmed by all we know of his Parliamentary +career:--</p> +<blockquote>"One, though he be excellent and the chief, is not to +be imitated alone; for no imitator ever grew up to his author: +likeness is always on this side truth. Yet there happened in my +time one noble speaker, who was full of gravity in his speaking. +His language (when he could spare or pass by a jest) was nobly +censorious. No man ever spake more neatly, more rightly, more +weightily, or suffered less emptiness, less idleness in what he +uttered. No member of his speech but consisted of his own graces. +His hearers could not cough or look aside from him without loss. He +commanded when he spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at +his devotion. No man had their affections more in his power. The +fear of every man that heard him was lest he should make an +end."</blockquote> +<p>The speeches of Bacon are almost wholly lost, his philosophy is +an undeciphered heap of fragments, the ambitions of his life lay in +ruins about his dishonored old age; yet his intellect is one of the +great moving and still vital forces of the modern world, and he +remains, for all ages to come, in the literature which is the final +storehouse of the chief treasures of mankind, one of</p> +"The dead yet sceptered sovereigns who still rule<br> +Our spirits from their urns."<br> +<p class="sign"><img src="images/sign223.png" width="60%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BACON_1"></a> +<h3>OF TRUTH</h3> +<center>From the 'Essays'</center> +<p>What is Truth? said jesting Pilate; and would not stay for an +answer. Certainly there be that delight in giddiness; and count it +a bondage to fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well +as in acting. And though the sects of philosophers of that kind be +gone, yet there remain certain discoursing wits, which are of the +same veins, though there be not so much blood in them as was in +those of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty and labor +which men take in finding out of truth, nor again, that when it is +found it imposeth upon men's thoughts, that doth bring lies in +favor: but a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself. One of +the later school of the Grecians examineth the matter, and is at a +stand to think what should be in it, that men should love lies, +where neither they make for pleasure as with poets, nor for +advantage as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I +cannot tell: this same truth is a naked and open daylight, that +doth not show the masks and mummeries and triumphs of the world +half so stately and daintily as candle-lights. Truth may perhaps +come to the price of a pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will +not rise to the price of a diamond or carbuncle, that showeth best +in varied lights. A mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth +any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds vain +opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one +would, and the like, but it would leave the minds of a number of +men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and +unpleasing to themselves? One of the fathers, in great severity, +called poesy <i>vinum doemonum,</i> because it filleth the +imagination, and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is +not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh +in and settleth in it, that doth the hurt; such as we spake of +before. But howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved +judgments and affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself, +teacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or +wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, +and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the +sovereign good of human nature. The first creature of God, in the +works of the days, was the light of the sense; the last was the +light of reason; and his Sabbath work ever since is the +illumination of his Spirit.... The poet that beautified the sect +that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently +well:--"It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships +tossed upon the sea; a pleasure to stand in the window of a castle, +and to see a battle and the adventures thereof below; but no +pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of +Truth" (a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always +clear and serene). "and to see the errors, and wanderings, and +mists, and tempests, in the vale below:" so always that this +prospect be with pity, and not with swelling or pride. Certainly, +it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move in charity, rest +in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.</p> +<p>To pass from theological and philosophical truth to the truth of +civil business: it will be acknowledged even by those that practice +it not, that clear and round dealing is the honor of man's nature, +and that mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin of gold and +silver, which may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth +it. For these winding and crooked courses are the goings of the +serpent; which goeth basely upon the belly, and not upon the feet. +There is no vice that doth so cover a man with shame as to be found +false and perfidious; and therefore Montaigne saith prettily, when +he inquired the reason why the word of the lie should be such a +disgrace and such an odious charge. Saith he, "If it be well +weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much as to say that he is +brave toward God and a coward toward men." For a lie faces God, and +shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of falsehood and breach of +faith cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it shall +be the last peal to call the judgments of God upon the generations +of men; it being foretold, that when Christ cometh, "he shall not +find faith upon the earth."</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_2"></a> +<h3>OF REVENGE</h3> +<center>From the 'Essays'</center> +<p>Revenge is a kind of wild justice; which the more man's nature +runs to, the more ought law to weed it out. For as for the first +wrong, it doth but offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong +putteth the law out of office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man +is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior: +for it is a prince's part to pardon, and Solomon, I am sure, saith, +"It is the glory of a man to pass by an offense." That which is +past is gone and irrevocable, and wise men have enough to do with +things present and to come; therefore, they do but trifle with +themselves that labor in past matters. There is no man doth a wrong +for the wrong's sake; but thereby to purchase himself profit, or +pleasure, or honor, or the like. Therefore, why should I be angry +with a man for loving himself better than me? And if any man should +do wrong merely out of ill-nature, why yet it is but like the thorn +or brier, which prick and scratch because they can do no other. The +most tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which there is +no law to remedy; but then, let a man take heed the revenge be such +as there is no law to punish, else a man's enemy is still +beforehand, and it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, +are desirous the party should know whence it cometh. This is the +more generous; for the delight seemeth to be not so much in doing +the hurt as in making the party repent. But base and crafty cowards +are like the arrow that flieth in the dark. Cosmus, Duke of +Florence, had a desperate saying against perfidious or neglecting +friends, as if those wrongs were unpardonable. "You shall read," +saith he, "that we are commanded to forgive our enemies; but you +never read that we are commanded to forgive our friends." But yet +the spirit of Job was in a better tune: "Shall we," saith he, "take +good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil also?" And so +of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man that +studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would +heal and do well. Public revenges are for the most part fortunate: +as that for the death of Caesar; for the death of Pertinax; for the +death of Henry the Third of France; and many more. But in private +revenges it is not so. Nay, rather vindictive persons live the life +of witches; who, as they are mischievous, so end they +infortunate.</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_3"></a> +<h3>OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION</h3> +<center>From the 'Essays'</center> +<p>Dissimulation is but a faint kind of policy or wisdom; for it +asketh a strong wit and a strong heart to know when to tell truth, +and to do it. Therefore it is the weaker sort of politicians that +are the great dissemblers.</p> +<p>Tacitus saith, "Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband +and dissimulation of her son;" attributing arts of policy to +Augustus, and dissimulation to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus +encourageth Vespasian to take arms against Vitellius, he saith, "We +rise not against the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the extreme +caution or closeness of Tiberius." These properties of arts or +policy, and dissimulation or closeness, are indeed habits and +faculties several, and to be distinguished. For if a man have that +penetration of judgment as he can discern what things are to be +laid open, and what to be secreted, and what to be showed at +half-lights, and to whom and when, (which indeed are arts of state +and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them,) to him a habit of +dissimulation is a hindrance and a poorness. But if a man cannot +obtain to that judgment, then it is left to him generally to be +close, and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose or vary in +particulars, there it is good to take the safest and wariest way in +general; like the going softly, by one that cannot well see. +Certainly the ablest men that ever were, have had all an openness +and frankness of dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity: but +then they were like horses well managed, for they could tell +passing well when to stop or turn; and at such times when they +thought the case indeed required dissimulation, if then they used +it, it came to pass that the former opinion spread abroad of their +good faith and clearness of dealing made them almost invisible.</p> +<p>There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling of a man's +self. The first, Closeness, Reservation, and Secrecy; when a man +leaveth himself without observation, or without hold to be taken, +what he is. The second, Dissimulation, in the negative; when a man +lets fall signs and arguments, that he is not that he is. And the +third, Simulation, in the affirmative; when a man industriously and +expressly feigns and pretends to be that he is not.</p> +<p>For the first of these, Secrecy: it is indeed the virtue of a +confessor. And assuredly the secret man heareth many confessions; +for who will open himself to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be +thought secret, it inviteth discovery, as the more close air +sucketh in the more open; and as in confession the revealing is not +for worldly use, but for the ease of a man's heart, so secret men +come to the knowledge of many things in that kind: while men rather +discharge their minds than impart their minds. In few words, +mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides (to say truth), nakedness is +uncomely, as well in mind as body; and it addeth no small reverence +to men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether open. As +for talkers and futile persons, they are commonly vain and +credulous withal; for he that talketh what he knoweth, will also +talk what he knoweth not. Therefore set it down, that a habit of +secrecy is both politic and moral. And in this part it is good that +a man's face give his tongue leave to speak; for the discovery of a +man's self by the tracts of his countenance is a great weakness and +betraying, by how much it is many times more marked and believed +than a man's words.</p> +<p>For the second, which is Dissimulation: it followeth many times +upon secrecy by a necessity; so that he that will be secret must be +a dissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning to suffer a +man to keep an indifferent carriage between both, and to be secret, +without swaying the balance on either side. They will so beset a +man with questions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that +without an absurd silence, he must show an inclination one way; or +if he do not, they will gather as much by his silence as by his +speech. As for equivocations, or oraculous speeches, they cannot +hold out long. So that no man can be secret, except he give himself +a little scope of dissimulation; which is, as it were, but the +skirts or train of secrecy.</p> +<p>But for the third degree, which is Simulation and false +profession: that I hold more culpable and less politic, except it +be in great and rare matters. And therefore a general custom of +simulation (which is this last degree) is a vice rising either of a +natural falseness or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main +faults; which because a man must needs disguise, it maketh him +practice simulation in other things, lest his hand should be out of +use.</p> +<p>The great advantages of simulation and dissimulation are three. +First, to lay asleep opposition, and to surprise; for where a man's +intentions are published, it is an alarum to call up all that are +against them. The second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair +retreat; for if a man engage himself by a manifest declaration, he +must go through or take a fall. The third is, the better to +discover the mind of another; for to him that opens himself men +will hardly show themselves adverse, but will fair let him go on, +and turn their freedom of speech to freedom of thought. And +therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, "Tell a lie +and find a troth;" as if there were no way of discovery but by +simulation. There be also three disadvantages to set it even. The +first, that simulation and dissimulation commonly carry with them a +show of fearfulness; which in any business doth spoil the feathers +of round flying up to the mark. The second, that it puzzleth and +perplexeth the conceits of many that perhaps would otherwise +co-operate with him, and makes a man walk almost alone to his own +ends. The third and greatest is, that it depriveth a man of one of +the most principal instruments for action; which is trust and +belief. The best composition and temperature is, to have openness +in fame and opinion; secrecy in habit; dissimulation in seasonable +use; and a power to feign if there be no remedy.</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_4"></a> +<h3>OF TRAVEL</h3> +<center>From the 'Essays'</center> +<p>Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the +elder, a part of experience. He that traveleth into a country +before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth to school, +and not to travel. That young men travel under some tutor or grave +servant, I allow well: so that he be such a one that hath the +language, and hath been in the country before; whereby he may be +able to tell them what things are worthy to be seen in the country +where they go, what acquaintances they are to seek, what exercises +or discipline the place yielded. For else young men shall go +hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange thing, that in sea +voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but sky and sea, men +should make diaries; but in land travel, wherein so much is to be +observed, for the most part they omit it; as if chance were fitter +to be registered than observation. Let diaries therefore be brought +in use. The things to be seen and observed are, the courts of +princes, specially when they give audience to ambassadors; the +courts of justice, while they sit and hear causes; and so of +consistories ecclesiastic; the churches and monasteries, with the +monuments which are therein extant; the walls and fortifications of +cities and towns, and so the havens and harbors; antiquities and +ruins; libraries; colleges, disputations, and lectures, where any +are; shipping and navies; houses and gardens of state and pleasure, +near great cities; armories; arsenals; magazines; exchanges; +burses; warehouses; exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of +soldiers, and the like; comedies, such whereunto the better sort of +persons do resort; treasuries of jewels and robes; cabinets and +rarities: and, to conclude, whatsoever is memorable in the places +where they go. After all which the tutors or servants ought to make +diligent inquiry. As for triumphs, masks, feasts, weddings, +funerals, capital executions, and such shows, men need not to be +put in mind of them: yet are they not to be neglected. If you will +have a young man to put his travel into a little room, and in short +time to gather much, this you must do. First, as was said, he must +have some entrance into the language before he goeth. Then he must +have such a servant or tutor as knoweth the country, as was +likewise said. Let him carry with him also some card or book, +describing the country where he traveleth, which will be a good key +to his inquiry. Let him keep also a diary. Let him not stay long in +one city or town; more or less as the place deserveth, but not +long: nay, when he stayeth in one city or town, let him change his +lodging from one end and part of the town to another; which is a +great adamant of acquaintance. Let him sequester himself from the +company of his countrymen, and diet in such places where there is +good company of the nation where he traveleth. Let him upon his +removes from one place to another, procure recommendation to some +person of quality residing in the place whither he removeth; that +he may use his favor in those things he desireth to see or know. +Thus he may abridge his travel with much profit.</p> +<p>As for the acquaintance which is to be sought in travel: that +which is most of all profitable, is acquaintance with the +secretaries and employed men of ambassadors; for so in traveling in +one country he shall suck the experience of many. Let him also see +and visit eminent persons in all kinds, which are of great name +abroad; that he may be able to tell how the life agreeth with the +fame. For quarrels, they are with care and discretion to be +avoided. They are commonly for mistresses, healths, place, and +words. And let a man beware how he keepeth company with choleric +and quarrelsome persons; for they will engage him into their own +quarrels. When a traveler returneth home, let him not leave the +countries where he hath traveled altogether behind him, but +maintain a correspondence by letters with those of his acquaintance +which are of most worth. And let his travel appear rather in his +discourse than in his apparel or gesture; and in his discourse let +him be rather advised in his answers, than forward to tell stories; +and let it appear that he doth not change his country manners for +those of foreign parts; but only prick in some flowers of that he +hath learned abroad into the customs of his own country.</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_5"></a> +<h3>OF FRIENDSHIP</h3> +<center>From the 'Essays'</center> +<p>It had been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth +and untruth together in few words than in that speech, "Whosoever +is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god." For it +is most true that a natural and secret hatred and aversion toward +society in any man hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is +most untrue that it should have any character at all of the divine +nature, except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but +out of a love and desire to sequester a man's self for a higher +conversation: such as is found to have been falsely and feignedly +in some of the heathen, as Epimenides the Candian, Numa the Roman, +Empedocles the Sicilian, and Apollonius of Tyana; and truly and +really in divers of the ancient hermits and holy fathers of the +Church. But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it +extendeth. For a crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery +of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no +love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little: "Magna civitas, +magna solitudo;" because in a great town friends are scattered, so +that there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in +less neighborhoods. But we may go further, and affirm most truly +that it is a mere and miserable solitude to want true friends, +without which the world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense +also of solitude, whosoever in the frame of his nature and +affections is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and +not from humanity.</p> +<p>A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and discharge of the +fullness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do +cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations +are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in +the mind. You may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the +spleen, flower of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain: +but no receipt openeth the heart but a true friend; to whom you may +impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and +whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil +shrift or confession.</p> +<p>It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great kings and +monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship whereof we speak; so +great, as they purchase it many times at the hazard of their own +safety and greatness. For princes, in regard of the distance of +their fortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot +gather this fruit, except (to make themselves capable thereof) they +raise some persons to be as it were companions and almost equals to +themselves; which many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern +languages give unto such persons the name of favorites, or +privadoes; as if it were matter of grace or conversation. But the +Roman name attaineth the true use and cause thereof, naming them +"participes curarum"; for it is that which tieth the knot. And we +see plainly that this hath been done, not by weak and passionate +princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned; +who have oftentimes joined to themselves some of their servants, +whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed others +likewise to call them in the same manner, using the word which is +received between private men.</p> +<p>L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pompey (after surnamed +the Great) to that height that Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's +overmatch. For when he had carried the consulship for a friend of +his against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little +resent thereat, and began to speak great, Pompey turned upon him +again, and in effect bade him be quiet; "for that more men adored +the sun rising than the sun setting." With Julius Caesar, Decimus +Brutus had obtained that interest, as he set him down in his +testament for heir in remainder after his nephew; and this was the +man that had power with him to draw him forth to his death. For +when Caesar would have discharged the Senate in regard of some ill +presages, and specially a dream of Calpurnia, this man lifted him +gently by the arm out of his chair, telling him he hoped he would +not dismiss the Senate till his wife had dreamt a better dream. And +it seemeth his favor was so great as Antonius, in a letter which is +recited verbatim in one of Cicero's Philippics, calleth him +"venefica"--"witch"; as if he had enchanted Caesar. Augustus raised +Agrippa (though of mean birth) to that height as, when he consulted +with Maecenas about the marriage of his daughter Julia, Maecenas +took the liberty to tell him, "that he must either marry his +daughter to Agrippa or take away his life: there was no third way, +he had made him so great." With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had +ascended to that height as they two were termed and reckoned as a +pair of friends. Tiberius in a letter to him saith, "Haec pro +amicitia nostra non occultavi" [these things, from our friendship, +I have not concealed from you]; and the whole Senate dedicated an +altar to Friendship, as to a goddess, in respect of the great +dearness of friendship between them two. The like, or more, was +between Septimius Severus and Plautianus. For he forced his eldest +son to marry the daughter of Plautianus; and would often maintain +Plautianus in doing affronts to his son; and did write also, in a +letter to the Senate, by these words: "I love the man so well, as I +wish he may over-live me." Now, if these princes had been as a +Trajan or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that this had +proceeded of an abundant goodness of nature; but being men so wise, +of such strength and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of +themselves, as all these were, it proveth most plainly that they +found their own felicity (though as great as ever happened to +mortal men) but as an half-piece, except they might have a friend +to make it entire: and yet, which is more, they were princes that +had wives, sons, nephews; and yet all these could not supply the +comfort of friendship.</p> +<p>It is not to be forgotten what Comineus observeth of his first +master, Duke Charles the Hardy; namely, that he would communicate +his secrets with none, and least of all those secrets which +troubled him most. Whereupon he goeth on and saith, that toward his +latter time "that closeness did impair and a little perish his +understanding." Surely Comineus mought have made the same judgment +also, if it had pleased him, of his second master Louis the +Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. The parable of +Pythagoras is dark, but true: "Cor ne edito,"--"Eat not the heart." +Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase, those that want +friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of their own hearts. +But one thing is most admirable (wherewith I will conclude this +first fruit of friendship), which is, that this communicating of a +man's self to his friend works two contrary effects; for it +redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves. For there is no man +that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more; and +no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the +less. So that it is, in truth, of operation upon a man's mind of +like virtue as the alchymists use to attribute to their stone for +man's body; that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to the +good and benefit of nature. But yet without praying in aid of +alchymists, there is a manifest image of this in the ordinary +course of nature: for in bodies, union strengtheneth and cherisheth +any natural action, and on the other side, weakeneth and dulleth +any violent impression; and even so it is of minds.</p> +<p>The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sovereign for +the understanding, as the first is for the affections. For +friendship maketh indeed a fair day in the affections, from storm +and tempests, but it maketh daylight in the understanding, out of +darkness and confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to be +understood only of faithful counsel, which a man receiveth from his +friend; but before you come to that, certain it is that whosoever +hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and +understanding do clarify and break up in the communicating and +discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he +marshaleth them more orderly; he seeth how they look when they are +turned into words; finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that +more by an hour's discourse than by a day's meditation. It was well +said by Themistocles to the King of Persia, "That speech was like +cloth of Arras, opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth +appear in figure: whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs." +Neither is this second fruit of friendship, in opening the +understanding, restrained only to such friends as are able to give +a man counsel (they indeed are best); but even without that, a man +learneth of himself, and bringeth his own thoughts to light, and +whetteth his wits as against a stone, which itself cuts not. In a +word, a man were better relate himself to a statue or picture, than +to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother.</p> +<p>Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that +other point which lieth more open, and falleth within vulgar +observation; which is faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus +saith well in one of his enigmas, "Dry light is ever the best;" and +certain it is, that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from +another, is drier and purer than that which cometh from his own +understanding and judgment; which is ever infused and drenched in +his affections and customs. So as there is as much difference +between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth +himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a +flatterer; for there is no such flatterer as is a man's self, and +there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's self as the +liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two sorts: the one concerning +manners, the other concerning business. For the first, the best +preservative to keep the mind in health is the faithful admonition +of a friend. The calling of a man's self to a strict account is a +medicine sometimes too piercing and corrosive; reading good books +of morality is a little flat and dead; observing our faults in +others is sometimes improper for our case: but the best receipt +(best I say to work and best to take) is the admonition of a +friend. It is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and +extreme absurdities many (especially of the greater sort) do commit +for want of a friend to tell them of them, to the great damage both +of their fame and fortune: for, as St. James saith, they are as men +"that look sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their own +shape and favor." As for business, a man may think, if he will, +that two eyes see no more than one; or, that a gamester seeth +always more than a looker-on; or, that a man in anger is as wise as +he that hath said over the four-and-twenty letters; or, that a +musket may be shot off as well upon the arm as upon a rest; and +such other fond and high imaginations, to think himself all in all: +but when all is done, the help of good counsel is that which +setteth business straight: and if any man think that he will take +counsel, but it shall be by pieces; asking counsel in one business +of one man, and in another business of another man, it is well +(that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he asked none at all); +but he runneth two dangers: one, that he shall not be faithfully +counseled; for it is a rare thing, except it be from a perfect and +entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as shall be bowed +and crooked to some ends which he hath that giveth it: the other, +that he shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with +good meaning), and mixed partly of mischief, and partly of remedy; +even as if you would call a physician, that is thought good for the +cure of the disease you complain of, but is unacquainted with your +body; and therefore may put you in a way for a present cure, but +overthroweth your health in some other kind, and so cure the +disease and kill the patient: but a friend that is wholly +acquainted with a man's estate will beware, by furthering any +present business, how he dasheth upon the other inconvenience. And +therefore, rest not upon scattered counsels: they will rather +distract and mislead, than settle and direct.</p> +<p>After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the +affections, and support of the judgment), followeth the last fruit, +which is like the pomegranate, full of many kernels; I mean aid, +and bearing a part in all actions and occasions. Here the best way +to represent to life the manifold use of friendship, is to cast and +see how many things there are which a man cannot do himself: and +then it will appear that it was a sparing speech of the ancients to +say, "that a friend is another himself;" for that a friend is far +more than himself. Men have their time, and die many times in +desire of some things which they principally take to heart; the +bestowing of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like. If a +man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure that the care of +those things will continue after him; so that a man hath, as it +were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a body, and that body is +confined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices of life +are, as it were, granted to him and his deputy; for he may exercise +them by his friend. How many things are there, which a man cannot, +with any face or comeliness, say or do himself; A man can scarce +allege his own merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man +cannot sometimes brook to supplicate, or beg, and a number of the +like: but all these things are graceful in a friend's mouth, which +are blushing in a man's own. So again, a man's person hath many +proper relations which he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his +son but as a father; to his wife but as a husband; to his enemy but +upon terms: whereas a friend may speak as the case requires, and +not as it sorteth with the person: but to enumerate these things +were endless; I have given the rule, where a man cannot fitly play +his own part, if he have not a friend he may quit the stage.</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_6"></a> +<h3>DEFECTS OF THE UNIVERSITIES</h3> +<center>From 'The Advancement of Learning' (Book ii.)</center> +<p>Amongst so many great foundations of colleges in Europe, I find +it strange that they are all dedicated to professions, and none +left free to arts and sciences at large. For if men judge that +learning should be referred to action, they judge well: but in this +they fall into the error described in the ancient fable, in which +the other parts of the body did suppose the stomach had been idle, +because it neither performed the office of motion, as the limbs do, +nor of sense, as the head doth; but yet notwithstanding it is the +stomach that digesteth and distributeth to all the rest. So if any +man think philosophy and universality to be idle studies, he doth +not consider that all professions are from thence served and +supplied. And this I take to be a great cause that hath hindered +the progression of learning, because these fundamental knowledges +have been studied but in passage. For if you will have a tree bear +more fruit than it hath used to do, it is not anything you can do +to the boughs, but it is the stirring of the earth and putting new +mold about the roots that must work it. Neither is it to be +forgotten, that this dedicating of foundations and dotations to +professory learning hath not only had a malign aspect and influence +upon the growth of sciences, but hath also been prejudicial to +States and governments. For hence it proceedeth that princes find a +solitude in regard of able men to serve them in causes of estate, +because there is no education collegiate which is free; where such +as were so disposed mought give themselves to histories, modern +languages, books of policy and civil discourse, and other the like +enablements unto service of estate.</p> +<p>And because founders of colleges do plant, and founders of +lectures do water, it followeth well in order to speak of the +defect which is in public lectures; namely, in the smallness and +meanness of the salary or reward which in most places is assigned +unto them; whether they be lectures of arts, or of professions For +it is necessary to the progression of sciences that readers be of +the most able and sufficient men; as those which are ordained for +generating and propagating of sciences, and not for transitory use. +This cannot be, except their condition and endowment be such as may +content the ablest man to appropriate his whole labor and continue +his whole age in that function and attendance; and therefore must +have a proportion answerable to that mediocrity or competency of +advancement, which may be expected from a profession or the +practice of a profession. So as, if you will have sciences +flourish, you must observe David's military law, which was, "That +those which staid with the carriage should have equal part with +those which were in the action"; else will the carriages be ill +attended. So readers in sciences are indeed the guardians of the +stores and provisions of sciences whence men in active courses are +furnished, and therefore ought to have equal entertainment with +them; otherwise if the fathers in sciences be of the weakest sort +or be ill maintained,</p> +<blockquote>"Et patrum invalidi referent jejunia +nati:"</blockquote> +<p>[Weakness of parents will show in feebleness of offspring.]</p> +<p>Another defect I note, wherein I shall need some alchemist to +help me, who call upon men to sell their books and to build +furnaces; quitting and forsaking Minerva and the Muses as barren +virgins, and relying upon Vulcan. But certain it is, that unto the +deep, fruitful, and operative study of many sciences, specially +natural philosophy and physic, books be not only the instrumentals; +wherein also the beneficence of men hath not been altogether +wanting. For we see spheres, globes, astrolabes, maps, and the +like, have been provided as appurtenances to astronomy and +cosmography, as well as books. We see likewise that some places +instituted for physic have annexed the commodity of gardens for +simples of all sorts, and do likewise command the use of dead +bodies for anatomies. But these do respect but a few things. In +general, there will hardly be any main proficience in the +disclosing of nature, except there be some allowance for expenses +about experiments; whether they be experiments appertaining to +Vulcanus or Daedalus, furnace or engine, or any other kind. And +therefore, as secretaries and spials of princes and states bring in +bills for intelligence, so you must allow the spials and +intelligencers of nature to bring in their bills; or else you shall +be ill advertised.</p> +<p>And if Alexander made such a liberal assignation to Aristotle of +treasure for the allowance of hunters, fowlers, fishers, and the +like, that he mought compile an history of nature, much better do +they deserve it that travail in arts of nature.</p> +<p>Another defect which I note, is an intermission or neglect in +those which are governors in universities of consultation, and in +princes or superior persons of visitation; to enter into account +and consideration, whether the readings, exercises, and other +customs appertaining unto learning, anciently begun and since +continued, be well instituted or no; and thereupon to ground an +amendment or reformation in that which shall be found inconvenient. +For it is one of your Majesty's own most wise and princely maxims, +"that in all usages and precedents, the times be considered wherein +they first began; which if they were weak or ignorant, it +derogateth from the authority of the usage, and leaveth it for +suspect." And therefore inasmuch as most of the usages and orders +of the universities were derived from more obscure times, it is the +more requisite they be re-examined. In this kind I will give an +instance or two, for example's sake, of things that are the most +obvious and familiar. The one is a matter, which, though it be +ancient and general, yet I hold to be an error; which is, that +scholars in universities come too soon and too unripe to logic and +rhetoric, arts fitter for graduates than children and novices. For +these two, rightly taken, are the gravest of sciences, being the +arts of arts; the one for judgment, the other for ornament. And +they be the rules and directions how to set forth and dispose +matter: and therefore for minds empty and unfraught with matter, +and which have not gathered that which Cicero calleth <i>sylva</i> +and <i>supellex</i>, stuff and variety, to begin with those arts +(as if one should learn to weigh or to measure or to paint the +wind) doth work but this effect, that the wisdom of those arts, +which is great and universal, is almost made contemptible, and is +degenerate into childish sophistry and ridiculous affectation. And +further, the untimely learning of them hath drawn on by consequence +the superficial and unprofitable teaching and writing of them, as +fitteth indeed to the capacity of children. Another is a lack I +find in the exercises used in the universities, which do make too +great a divorce between invention and memory. For their speeches +are either premeditate, in <i>verbis conceptis</i>, where nothing +is left to invention, or merely extemporal, where little is left to +memory; whereas in life and action there is least use of either of +these, but rather of intermixtures of premeditation and invention, +notes and memory. So as the exercise fitteth not the practice, nor +the image the life; and it is ever a true rule in exercises, that +they be framed as near as may be to the life of practice; for +otherwise they do pervert the motions and faculties of the mind, +and not prepare them. The truth whereof is not obscure, when +scholars come to the practices of professions, or other actions of +civil life; which when they set into, this want is soon found by +themselves, and sooner by others. But this part, touching the +amendment of the institutions and orders of universities, I will +conclude with the clause of Caesar's letter to Oppius and Balbus, +"Hoc quem admodum fieri possit, nonnulla mihi in mentem veniunt, et +multa reperiri possunt: de iis rebus rogo vos ut cogitationem +suscipiatis." [How this may be done, some ways come to my mind and +many may be devised; I ask you to take these things into +consideration.]</p> +<p>Another defect which I note ascendeth a little higher than the +precedent. For as the proficience of learning consisteth much in +the orders and institutions of universities in the same States and +kingdoms, so it would be yet more advanced, if there were more +intelligence mutual between the universities of Europe than now +there is. We see there be many orders and foundations, which though +they be divided under several sovereignties and territories, yet +they take themselves to have a kind of contract, fraternity, and +correspondence one with the other, insomuch as they have +Provincials and Generals. And surely as nature createth brotherhood +in families, and arts mechanical contract brotherhoods in +communalties, and the anointment of God superinduceth a brotherhood +in kings and bishops; so in like manner there cannot but be a +fraternity in learning and illumination, relating to that paternity +which is attributed to God, who is called the Father of +illuminations or lights.</p> +<p>The last defect which I will note is, that there hath not been, +or very rarely been, any public designation of writers or inquirers +concerning such parts of knowledge as may appear not to have been +already sufficiently labored or undertaken; unto which point it is +an inducement to enter into a view and examination what parts of +learning have been prosecuted, and what omitted. For the opinion of +plenty is amongst the causes of want, and the great quantity of +books maketh a show rather of superfluity than lack; which +surcharge nevertheless is not to be remedied by making no more +books, but by making more good books, which, as the serpent of +Moses, mought devour the serpents of the enchanters.</p> +<p>The removing of all the defects formerly enumerated, except the +last, and of the active part also of the last (which is the +designation of writers), are <i>opera basilica</i> [kings' works]; +towards which the endeavors of a private man may be but as an image +in a cross-way, that may point at the way, but cannot go it. But +the inducing part of the latter (which is the survey of learning) +may be set forward by private travail. Wherefore I will now attempt +to make a general and faithful perambulation of learning, with an +inquiry what parts thereof lie fresh and waste, and not improved +and converted by the industry of man; to the end that such a plot +made and recorded to memory, may both minister light to any public +designation, and also serve to excite voluntary endeavors. Wherein +nevertheless my purpose is at this time to note only omissions and +deficiencies, and not to make any redargution of errors or +incomplete prosecutions. For it is one thing to set forth what +ground lieth unmanured, and another thing to correct ill husbandry +in that which is manured.</p> +<p>In the handling and undertaking of which work I am not ignorant +what it is that I do now move and attempt, nor insensible of mine +own weakness to sustain my purpose. But my hope is, that if my +extreme love to learning carry me too far, I may obtain the excuse +of affection; for that "it is not granted to man to love and to be +wise." But I know well I can use no other liberty of judgment than +I must leave to others; and I, for my part, shall be indifferently +glad either to perform myself, or accept from another, that duty of +humanity, "Nam qui erranti comiter monstrat viam," etc. [To kindly +show the wanderer the path.] I do foresee likewise that of those +things which I shall enter and register as deficiencies and +omissions, many will conceive and censure that some of them are +already done and extant; others to be but curiosities, and things +of no great use; and others to be of too great difficulty and +almost impossibility to be compassed and effected. But for the two +first, I refer myself to the particulars For the last, touching +impossibility, I take it those things are to be held possible which +may be done by some person, though not by every one; and which may +be done by many, though not by any one; and which may be done in +the succession of ages, though not within the hour-glass of one +man's life; and which may be done by public designation, though not +by private endeavor. But notwithstanding, if any man will take to +himself rather that of Solomon, "Dicit piger, Leo est in via" [the +sluggard says there is a lion in the path], than that of Virgil, +"Possunt quia posse videntur" [they can, because they think they +can], I shall be content that my labors be esteemed but as the +better sort of wishes, for as it asketh some knowledge to demand a +question not impertinent, so it requireth some sense to make a wish +not absurd.</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_7"></a> +<h3>TO MY LORD TREASURER BURGHLEY</h3> +<center>From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding</center> +<p><i>My Lord:</i></p> +<p>With as much confidence as mine own honest and faithful devotion +unto your service and your honorable correspondence unto me and my +poor estate can breed in a man, do I commend myself unto your +Lordship. I wax now somewhat ancient; one and thirty years is a +great deal of sand in the hour-glass. My health, I thank God, I +find confirmed; and I do not fear that action shall impair it, +because I account my ordinary course of study and meditation to be +more painful than most parts of action are. I ever bare a mind (in +some middle place that I could discharge) to serve her Majesty; not +as a man born under Sol, that loveth honor; nor under Jupiter, that +loveth business (for the contemplative planet carrieth me away +wholly); but as a man born under an excellent Sovereign, that +deserveth the dedication of all men's abilities. Besides, I do not +find in myself so much self-love, but that the greater parts of my +thoughts are to deserve well (if I were able) of my friends, and +namely of your Lordship; who being the Atlas of this commonwealth, +the honor of my house, and the second founder of my poor estate, I +am tied by all duties, both of a good patriot and of an unworthy +kinsman, and of an obliged servant, to employ whatsoever I am to do +you service. Again, the meanness of my estate does somewhat move +me; for though I cannot excuse myself that I am either prodigal or +slothful, yet my health is not to spend, nor my course to get. +Lastly, I confess that I have as vast contemplative ends as I have +moderate civil ends: for I have taken all knowledge to be my +province; and if I could purge it of two sorts of rovers, whereof +the one with frivolous disputations, confutations, and verbosities, +the other with blind experiments and auricular traditions and +impostures, hath committed so many spoils, I hope I should bring in +industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable +inventions and discoveries; the best state of that province. This, +whether it be curiosity, or vain glory, or nature, or (if one take +it favorably) <i>philanthropia</i>, is so fixed in my mind as it +cannot be removed. And I do easily see, that place of any +reasonable countenance doth bring commandment of more wits than of +a man's own; which is the thing I greatly affect. And for your +Lordship, perhaps you shall not find more strength and less +encounter in any other. And if your Lordship shall find now, or at +any time, that I do seek or affect any place whereunto any that is +nearer unto your Lordship shall be concurrent, say then that I am a +most dishonest man. And if your Lordship will not carry me on, I +will not do as Anaxagoras did, who reduced himself with +contemplation unto voluntary poverty: but this I will do; I will +sell the inheritance that I have, and purchase some lease of quick +revenue, or some office of gain that shall be executed by deputy, +and so give over all care of service, and become some sorry +book-maker, or a true pioneer in that mine of truth, which (he +said) lay so deep. This which I have writ unto your Lordship is +rather thoughts than words, being set down without all art, +disguising, or reservation. Wherein I have done honor both to your +Lordship's wisdom, in judging that that will be best believed of +your Lordship which is truest, and to your Lordship's good nature, +in retaining nothing from you. And even so I wish your Lordship all +happiness, and to myself means and occasion to be added to my +faithful desire to do you service. From my lodging at Gray's +Inn.</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_8"></a> +<h3>IN PRAISE OF KNOWLEDGE</h3> +<center>From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding</center> +<p>Silence were the best celebration of that which I mean to +commend; for who would not use silence, where silence is not made, +and what crier can make silence in such a noise and tumult of vain +and popular opinions?</p> +<p>My praise shall be dedicated to the mind itself. The mind is the +man and the knowledge of the mind. A man is but what he knoweth. +The mind itself is but an accident to knowledge; for knowledge is a +double of that which is; the truth of being and the truth of +knowing is all one.</p> +<p>Are not the pleasures of the affections greater than the +pleasures of the senses? And are not the pleasures of the intellect +greater than the pleasures of the affections? Is not knowledge a +true and only natural pleasure, whereof there is no satiety? Is it +not knowledge that doth alone clear the mind of all perturbation? +How many things are there which we imagine not? How many things do +we esteem and value otherwise than they are! This ill-proportioned +estimation, these vain imaginations, these be the clouds of error +that turn into the storms of perturbation. Is there any such +happiness as for a man's mind to be raised above the confusion of +things, where he may have the prospect of the order of nature and +the error of men?</p> +<p>But is this a vein only of delight, and not of discovery? of +contentment, and not of benefit? Shall he not as well discern the +riches of nature's warehouse, as the benefit of her shop? Is truth +ever barren? Shall he not be able thereby to produce worthy +effects, and to endow the life of man with infinite +commodities?</p> +<p>But shall I make this garland to be put upon a wrong head? Would +anybody believe me, if I should verify this upon the knowledge that +is now in use? Are we the richer by one poor invention, by reason +of all the learning that hath been these many hundred years? The +industry of artificers maketh some small improvement of things +invented; and chance sometimes in experimenting maketh us to +stumble upon somewhat which is new; but all the disputation of the +learned never brought to light one effect of nature before unknown. +When things are known and found out, then they can descant upon +them, they can knit them into certain causes, they can reduce them +to their principles. If any instance of experience stand against +them, they can range it in order by some distinctions. But all this +is but a web of the wit, it can work nothing. I do not doubt but +that common notions, which we call reason, and the knitting of them +together, which we call logic, are the art of reason and studies. +But they rather cast obscurity than gain light to the contemplation +of nature. All the philosophy of nature which is now received, is +either the philosophy of the Grecians, or that other of the +Alchemists. That of the Grecians hath the foundations in words, in +ostentation, in confutation, in sects, in schools, in disputations. +The Grecians were (as one of themselves saith), "you Grecians, ever +children." They knew little antiquity; they knew (except fables) +not much above five hundred years before themselves; they knew but +a small portion of the world. That of the Alchemists hath the +foundation in imposture, in auricular traditions and obscurity; it +was catching hold of religion, but the principle of it is, "Populus +vult decipi." So that I know no great difference between these +great philosophies, but that the one is a loud-crying folly, and +the other is a whispering folly. The one is gathered out of a few +vulgar observations, and the other out of a few experiments of a +furnace. The one never faileth to multiply words, and the other +ever faileth to multiply gold. Who would not smile at Aristotle, +when he admireth the eternity and invariableness of the heavens, as +there were not the like in the bowels of the earth? Those be the +confines and borders of these two kingdoms, where the continual +alteration and incursion are. The superficies and upper parts of +the earth are full of varieties. The superficies and lower part of +the heavens (which we call the middle region of the air) is full of +variety. There is much spirit in the one part that cannot be +brought into mass. There is much massy body in the other place that +cannot be refined to spirit. The common air is as the waste ground +between the borders. Who would not smile at the astronomers? I mean +not these new carmen which drive the earth about, but the ancient +astronomers, which feign the moon to be the swiftest of all planets +in motion, and the rest in order, the higher the slower; and so are +compelled to imagine a double motion; whereas how evident is it, +that that which they call a contrary motion is but an abatement of +motion. The fixed stars overgo Saturn, and so in them and the rest +all is but one motion, and the nearer the earth the slower; a +motion also whereof air and water do participate, though much +interrupted.</p> +<p>But why do I in a conference of pleasure enter into these great +matters, in sort that pretending to know much, I should forget what +is seasonable? Pardon me, it was because all [other] things may be +endowed and adorned with speeches, but knowledge itself is more +beautiful than any apparel of words that can be put upon it.</p> +<p>And let not me seem arrogant, without respect to these great +reputed authors. Let me so give every man his due, as I give Time +his due, which is to discover truth. Many of these men had greater +wits, far above mine own, and so are many in the universities of +Europe at this day. But alas, they learn nothing there but to +believe: first to believe that others know that which they know +not; and after [that] themselves know that which they know not. But +indeed facility to believe, impatience to doubt, temerity to +answer, glory to know, doubt to contradict, end to gain, sloth to +search, seeking things in words, resting in part of nature; these, +and the like, have been the things which have forbidden the happy +match between the mind of man and the nature of things, and in +place thereof have married it to vain notions and blind +experiments. And what the posterity and issue of so honorable a +match may be, it is not hard to consider. Printing, a gross +invention; artillery, a thing that lay not far out of the way; the +needle, a thing partly known before; what a change have these three +made in the world in these times; the one in state of learning, the +other in state of the war, the third in the state of treasure, +commodities, and navigation. And those, I say, were but stumbled +upon and lighted upon by chance. Therefore, no doubt the +sovereignty of man lieth hid in knowledge; wherein many things are +reserved, which kings with their treasure cannot buy, nor with +their force command; their spials and intelligencers can give no +news of them, their seamen and discoverers cannot sail where they +grow. Now we govern nature in opinions, but we are thrall unto her +in necessity; but if we would be led by her in invention, we should +command her in action.</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_9"></a> +<h3>TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR, TOUCHING THE HISTORY OF BRITAIN</h3> +<center>From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding</center> +<p><i>It may please your good Lordship:</i></p> +<p>Some late act of his Majesty, referred to some former speech +which I have heard from your Lordship, bred in me a great desire, +and by strength of desire a boldness to make an humble proposition +to your Lordship, such as in me can be no better than a wish: but +if your Lordship should apprehend it, may take some good and worthy +effect. The act I speak of, is the order given by his Majesty, as I +understand, for the erection of a tomb or monument for our late +sovereign Lady Queen Elizabeth: wherein I may note much, but this +at this time; that as her Majesty did always right to his +Highness's hopes, so his Majesty doth in all things right to her +memory; a very just and princely retribution. But from this +occasion, by a very easy ascent, I passed furder, being put in +mind, by this Representative of her person, of the more true and +more firm Representative, which is of her life and government. For +as Statuaes and Pictures are dumb histories, so histories are +speaking Pictures. Wherein if my affection be not too great, or my +reading too small, I am of this opinion, that if Plutarch were +alive to write lives by parallels, it would trouble him for virtue +and fortune both to find for her a parallel amongst women. And +though she was of the passive sex, yet her government was so +active, as, in my simple opinion, it made more impression upon the +several states of Europe, than it received from thence. But I +confess unto your Lordship I could not stay here, but went a little +furder into the consideration of the times which have passed since +King Henry the 8th; wherein I find the strangest variety that in +like number of successions of any hereditary monarchy hath ever +been known. The reign of a child; the offer of an usurpation +(though it were but as a Diary Ague); the reign of a lady married +to a foreign Prince; and the reign of a lady solitary and +unmarried. So that as it cometh to pass in massive bodies, that +they have certain trepidations and waverings before they fix and +settle; so it seemeth that by the providence of God this monarchy, +before it was to settle in his Majesty and his generations (in +which I hope it is now established for ever), it had these +prelusive changes in these barren princes. Neither could I contain +myself here (as it is easier to produce than to stay a wish), but +calling to remembrance the unworthiness of the history of England +(in the main continuance thereof), and the partiality and obliquity +of that of Scotland, in the latest and largest author that I have +seen: I conceived it would be honor for his Majesty, and a work +very memorable, if this island of Great Britain, as it is now +joined in Monarchy for the ages to come, so were joined in History +for the times past; and that one just and complete History were +compiled of both nations. And if any man think it may refresh the +memory of former discords, he may satisfy himself with the verse, +"olim haec meminisse juvabit:" for the case being now altered, it +is matter of comfort and gratulation to remember former +troubles.</p> +<p>Thus much, if it may please your Lordship, was in the optative +mood. It is true that I did look a little in the potential; wherein +the hope which I conceived was grounded upon three observations. +The first, of the times, which do flourish in learning, both of art +and language; which giveth hope not only that it may be done, but +that it may be well done. For when good things are undertaken in +ill times, it turneth but to loss; as in this very particular we +have a fresh example of Polydore Vergile, who being designed to +write the English History by K. Henry the 8th (a strange choice to +chuse a stranger), and for his better instruction having obtained +into his hands many registers and memorials out of the monasteries, +did indeed deface and suppress better things than those he did +collect and reduce. Secondly, I do see that which all the world +seeth in his Majesty, both a wonderful judgment in learning and a +singular affection towards learning, and the works of true honor +which are of the mind and not of the hand. For there cannot be the +like honor sought in the building of galleries, or the planting of +elms along highways, and the like manufactures, things rather of +magnificence than of magnanimity, as there is in the uniting of +states, pacifying of controversies, nourishing and augmenting of +learning and arts, and the particular actions appertaining unto +these; of which kind Cicero judged truly, when he said to Caesar, +"Quantum operibus tuis detrahet vetustas, tantum addet laudibus." +And lastly, I called to mind, that your Lordship at sometimes hath +been pleased to express unto me a great desire, that something of +this nature should be performed; answerably indeed to your other +noble and worthy courses and actions, wherein your Lordship sheweth +yourself not only an excellent Chancellor and Counselor, but also +an exceeding favorer and fosterer of all good learning and virtue, +both in men and matters, persons and actions: joining and adding +unto the great services towards his Majesty, which have, in small +compass of time, been accumulated upon your Lordship, many other +deservings both of the Church and Commonwealth and particulars; so +as the opinion of so great and wise a man doth seem unto me a good +warrant both of the possibility and worth of this matter. But all +this while I assure myself, I cannot be mistaken by your Lordship, +as if I sought an office or employment for myself. For no man +knoweth better than your Lordship, that (if there were in me any +faculty thereunto, as I am most unable), yet neither my fortune nor +profession would permit it. But because there be so many good +painters both for hand and colors, it needeth but encouragement and +instructions to give life and light unto it.</p> +<p>So in all humbleness I conclude my presenting to your good +Lordship this wish: that if it perish it is but a loss of that +which is not. And thus craving pardon that I have taken so much +time from your Lordship, I always remain</p> +<p class="loc">Your Lps. very humbly and much bounden</p> +<p class="loc">FR. BACON.</p> +<br> +<blockquote>GRAY'S INN, this 2d of April, 1605.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BACON_10"></a> +<h3>TO VILLIERS ON HIS PATENT AS VISCOUNT</h3> +<center>From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding</center> +<p><i>Sir</i>:</p> +<p>I have sent you now your patent of creation of Lord Blechly of +Blechly, and of Viscount Villiers. Blechly is your own, and I like +the sound of the name better than Whaddon; but the name will be +hid, for you will be called Viscount Villiers. I have put them both +in a patent, after the manner of the patents of Earls where +baronies are joined; but the chief reason was, because I would +avoid double prefaces which had not been fit; nevertheless the +ceremony of robing and otherwise must be double.</p> +<p>And now, because I am in the country, I will send you some of my +country fruits; which with me are good meditations; which when I am +in the city are choked with business.</p> +<p>After that the King shall have watered your new dignities with +his bounty of the lands which he intends you, and that some other +things concerning your means which are now likewise in intention +shall be settled upon you; I do not see but you may think your +private fortunes established; and, therefore, it is now time that +you should refer your actions chiefly to the good of your sovereign +and your country. It is the life of an ox or beast always to eat, +and never to exercise; but men are born (and especially Christian +men), not to cram in their fortunes, but to exercise their virtues; +and yet the other hath been the unworthy, and (thanks be to God) +sometimes the unlucky humor of great persons in our times. Neither +will your further fortune be the further off: for assure yourself +that fortune is of a woman's nature, that will sooner follow you by +slighting than by too much wooing. And in this dedication of +yourself to the public, I recommend unto you principally that which +I think was never done since I was born; and which not done hath +bred almost a wilderness and solitude in the King's service; which +is, that you countenance, and encourage, and advance able men and +virtuous men, and meriting men in all kinds, degrees, and +professions. For in the time of the Cecils, the father and the son, +able men were by design and of purpose suppressed; and though of +late choice goeth better both in church and commonwealth, yet +money, and turn-serving, and cunning canvasses, and importunity +prevail too much. And in places of moment rather make able and +honest men yours, than advance those that are otherwise because +they are yours. As for cunning and corrupt men, you must (I know) +sometimes use them; but keep them at a distance; and let it appear +that you make use of them, rather than that they lead you. Above +all, depend wholly (next to God) upon the King; and be ruled (as +hitherto you have been) by his instructions; for that is best for +yourself. For the King's care and thoughts concerning you are +according to the thoughts of a great King; whereas your thoughts +concerning yourself are and ought to be according to the thoughts +of a modest man. But let me not weary you. The sum is that you +think goodness the best part of greatness; and that you remember +whence your rising comes, and make return accordingly.</p> +<p>God ever keep you.</p> +<p>GORHAMBURY, August 12th, 1616</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_11"></a> +<h3>CHARGE TO JUSTICE HUTTON</h3> +<center>From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding</center> +<p><i>Mr. Serjeant Hutton</i>:</p> +<p>The King's most excellent Majesty, being duly informed of your +learning, integrity, discretion, experience, means, and reputation +in your country, hath thought fit not to leave you these talents to +be employed upon yourself only, but to call you to serve himself +and his people, in the place of one of his Justices of the court of +common pleas.</p> +<p>The court where you are to serve, is the local centre and heart +of the laws of this realm. Here the subject hath his assurance by +fines and recoveries. Here he hath his fixed and invariable +remedies by <i>praecipes</i> and writs of right. Here Justice opens +not by a by-gate of privilege, but by the great gate of the King's +original writs out of the Chancery. Here issues process of +outlawry; if men will not answer law in this centre of law, they +shall be cast out of the circle of law. And therefore it is proper +for you by all means with your wisdom and fortitude to maintain the +laws of the realm. Wherein, nevertheless, I would not have you +head-strong, but heart-strong; and to weigh and remember with +yourself, that the twelve Judges of the realm are as the twelve +lions under Solomon's throne; they must be lions, but yet lions, +under the throne; they must shew their stoutness in elevating and +bearing up the throne.</p> +<blockquote>To represent unto you the lines and portraitures of a +good judge:--The first is, That you should draw your learning out +of your books, not out of your brain.<br> +<br> +<p>2. That you should mix well the freedom of your own opinion with +the reverence of the opinion of your fellows.</p> +<br> +<p>3. That you should continue the studying of your books, and not +to spend on upon the old stock.</p> +<br> +<p>4. That you should fear no man's face, and yet not turn +stoutness into bravery.</p> +<br> +<p>5. That you should be truly impartial, and not so as men may see +affection through fine carriage.</p> +<br> +<p>6. That you be a light to jurors to open their eyes, but not a +guide to lead them by the noses.</p> +<br> +<p>7. That you affect not the opinion of pregnancy and expedition +by an impatient and catching hearing of the counselors at the +bar.</p> +<br> +<p>8. That your speech be with gravity, as one of the sages of the +law; and not talkative, nor with impertinent flying out to show +learning.</p> +<br> +<p>9. That your hands, and the hands of your hands (I mean those +about you), be clean, and uncorrupt from gifts, from meddling in +titles, and from serving of turns, be they of great ones or small +ones.</p> +<br> +<p>10. That you contain the jurisdiction of the court within the +ancient merestones, without removing the mark.</p> +<br> +<p>11. Lastly, That you carry such a hand over your ministers and +clerks, as that they may rather be in awe of you, than presume upon +you.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>These and the like points of the duty of a Judge, I forbear to +enlarge; for the longer I have lived with you, the shorter shall my +speech be to you; knowing that you come so furnished and prepared +with these good virtues, as whatsoever I shall say cannot be new +unto you. And therefore I will say no more unto you at this time, +but deliver you your patent.</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_12"></a> +<h3>A PRAYER, OR PSALM</h3> +<center>From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding</center> +<p>Most gracious Lord God, my merciful Father, from my youth up, my +Creator, my Redeemer, my Comforter. Thou (O Lord) soundest and +searchest the depths and secrets of all hearts; thou knowledgest +the upright of heart, thou judgest the hypocrite, thou ponderest +men's thoughts and doings as in a balance, thou measurest their +intentions as with a line, vanity and crooked ways cannot be hid +from thee.</p> +<p>Remember (O Lord) how thy servant hath walked before thee: +remember what I have first sought, and what hath been principal in +mine intentions. I have loved thy assemblies, I have mourned for +the divisions of thy Church, I have delighted in the brightness of +thy sanctuary. This vine which thy right hand hath planted in this +nation, I have ever prayed unto thee that it might have the first +and the latter rain; and that it might stretch her branches to the +seas and to the floods. The state and bread of the poor and +oppressed have been precious in mine eyes: I have hated all cruelty +and hardness of heart: I have (though in a despised weed) procured +the good of all men. If any have been mine enemies, I thought not +of them; neither hath the sun almost set upon my displeasure; but I +have been as a dove, free from superfluity of maliciousness. Thy +creatures have been my books, but thy Scriptures much more. I have +sought thee in the courts, fields, and gardens, but I have found +thee in thy temples.</p> +<p>Thousands have been my sins, and ten thousand my transgressions; +but thy sanctifications have remained with me, and my heart, +through thy grace, hath been an unquenched coal upon thy altar. O +Lord, my strength, I have since my youth met with thee in all my +ways, by thy fatherly compassions, by thy comfortable +chastisements, and by thy most visible providence. As thy favors +have increased upon me, so have thy corrections; so as thou hast +been alway near me, O Lord; and ever as my worldly blessings were +exalted, so secret darts from thee have pierced me; and when I have +ascended before men, I have descended in humiliation before +thee.</p> +<p>And now when I thought most of peace and honor, thy hand is +heavy upon me, and hath humbled me, according to thy former +loving-kindness, keeping me still in thy fatherly school, not as a +bastard, but as a child. Just are thy judgments upon me for my +sins, which are more in number than the sands of the sea, but have +no proportion to thy mercies; for what are the sands of the sea, to +the sea, earth, heavens? and all these are nothing to thy +mercies.</p> +<p>Besides my innumerable sins, I confess before thee, that I am +debtor to thee for the gracious talent of thy gifts and graces +which I have neither put into a napkin, nor put it (as I ought) to +exchangers, where it might have made best profit; but mis-spent it +in things for which I was least fit; so as I may truly say, my soul +hath been a stranger in the course of my pilgrimage. Be merciful +into me (O Lord) for my Saviour's sake, and receive me unto thy +bosom, or guide me in thy ways.</p> +<br> +<a name="BACON_13"></a> +<h3>FROM THE 'APOPHTHEGMS'</h3> +<p>My Lo. of Essex, at the succor of Rhoan, made twenty-four +knights, which at that time was a great matter. Divers (7.) of +those gentlemen were of weak and small means; which when Queen +Elizabeth heard, she said, "My Lo. mought have done well to have +built his alms-house before he made his knights."</p> +<p>21. Many men, especially such as affect gravity, have a manner +after other men's speech to shake their heads. Sir Lionel Cranfield +would say, "That it was as men shake a bottle, to see if there was +any wit in their head or no."</p> +<p>33. Bias was sailing, and there fell out a great tempest, and +the mariners, that were wicked and dissolute fellows, called upon +the gods; but Bias said to them, "Peace, let them not know ye are +here."</p> +<p>42. There was a Bishop that was somewhat a delicate person, and +bathed twice a day. A friend of his said to him, "My lord, why do +you bathe twice a day?" The Bishop answered, "Because I cannot +conveniently bathe thrice."</p> +<p>55. Queen Elizabeth was wont to say of her instructions to great +officers, "That they were like to garments, strait at the first +putting on, but did by and by wear loose enough."</p> +<p>64. Sir Henry Wotton used to say, "That critics are like +brushers of noblemen's clothes."</p> +<p>66. Mr. Savill was asked by my lord of Essex his opinion +touching poets; who answered my lord, "He thought them the best +writers, next to those that write prose."</p> +<p>85. One was saying, "That his great-grandfather and grandfather +and father died at sea." Said another that heard him, "And I were +as you, I would never come at sea." "Why, (saith he) where did your +great-grandfather and grandfather and father die?" He answered, +"Where but in their beds." Saith the other, "And I were as you, I +would never come in bed."</p> +<p>97. Alonso of Arragon was wont to say, in commendation of age, +That age appeared to be best in four things: "Old wood best to +burn; old wine to drink; old friends to trust; and old authors to +read."</p> +<p>119. One of the fathers saith, "That there is but this +difference between the death of old men and young men: that old men +go to death, and death comes to young men."</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BACON_14"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>TRANSLATION OF THE 137TH PSALM</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">From 'Works,' Vol. xiv.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Whenas we sat all sad and desolate,</p> +<p class="i1">By Babylon upon the river's side,</p> +<p>Eased from the tasks which in our captive state</p> +<p class="i1">We were enforcèd daily to abide,</p> +<p class="i2">Our harps we had brought with us to the field,</p> +<p class="i2">Some solace to our heavy souls to yield.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But soon we found we failed of our account,</p> +<p class="i1">For when our minds some freedom did obtain,</p> +<p>Straightways the memory of Sion Mount</p> +<p class="i1">Did cause afresh our wounds to bleed again;</p> +<p class="i2">So that with present gifts, and future fears,</p> +<p class="i2">Our eyes burst forth into a stream of tears.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As for our harps, since sorrow struck them dumb,</p> +<p class="i1">We hanged them on the willow-trees were near;</p> +<p>Yet did our cruel masters to us come,</p> +<p class="i1">Asking of us some Hebrew songs to hear:</p> +<p class="i2">Taunting us rather in our misery,</p> +<p class="i2">Than much delighting in our melody.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Alas (said we) who can once force or frame</p> +<p class="i1">His grievèd and oppressèd heart to +sing</p> +<p>The praises of Jehovah's glorious name,</p> +<p class="i1">In banishment, under a foreign king?</p> +<p class="i2">In Sion is his seat and dwelling-place,</p> +<p class="i2">Thence doth he shew the brightness of his face.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Hierusalem, where God his throne hath set,</p> +<p class="i1">Shall any hour absent thee from my mind?</p> +<p>Then let my right hand quite her skill forget,</p> +<p class="i1">Then let my voice and words no passage find;</p> +<p class="i2">Nay, if I do not thee prefer in all</p> +<p class="i2">That in the compass of my thoughts can fall.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Remember thou, O Lord, the cruel cry</p> +<p class="i1">Of Edom's children, which did ring and sound,</p> +<p>Inciting the Chaldean's cruelty,</p> +<p class="i1">"Down with it, down with it, even unto the +ground."</p> +<p class="i2">In that good day repay it unto them,</p> +<p class="i2">When thou shalt visit thy Hierusalem.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And thou, O Babylon, shalt have thy turn</p> +<p class="i1">By just revenge, and happy shall he be,</p> +<p>That thy proud walls and towers shall waste and burn,</p> +<p class="i1">And as thou didst by us, so do by thee.</p> +<p class="i2">Yea, happy he that takes thy children's bones,</p> +<p class="i2">And dasheth them against the pavement stones.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BACON_15"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>THE WORLD'S A BUBBLE</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">From 'Works,' Vol. xiv.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The world's a bubble, and the life of man less than a span;</p> +<p>In his conception wretched, from the womb so to the tomb:</p> +<p>Curst from the cradle, and brought up to years with cares and +fears.</p> +<p>Who then to frail mortality shall trust,</p> +<p>But limns the water, or but writes in dust.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet since with sorrow here we live opprest, what life is +best?</p> +<p>Courts are but only superficial schools to dandle fools.</p> +<p>The rural parts are turned into a den of savage men.</p> +<p>And where's the city from all vice so free,</p> +<p>But may be termed the worst of all the three?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, or pains his head.</p> +<p>Those that live single take it for a curse, or do things +worse.</p> +<p>Some would have children; those that have them moan, or wish +them gone.</p> +<p>What is it then to have or have no wife,</p> +<p>But single thraldom, or a double strife?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Our own affections still at home to please is a disease:</p> +<p>To cross the seas to any foreign soil perils and toil.</p> +<p>Wars with their noise affright us: when they cease, we are worse +in peace.</p> +<p>What then remains, but that we still should cry</p> +<p>Not to be born, or being born to die.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><b>WALTER <a name="BAGEHOT"></a>BAGEHOT</b></h2> +<h3>(1826-1877)</h3> +<h3>BY FORREST MORGAN</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-w.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>alter Bagehot was born February 3d, 1826, at Langport, +Somersetshire, England; and died there March 24th, 1877. He sprang +on both sides from, and was reared in, a nest of wealthy bankers +and ardent Liberals, steeped in political history and with London +country houses where leaders of thought and politics resorted; and +his mother's brother-in-law was Dr. Prichard the ethnologist. This +heredity, progressive by disposition and conservative by trade, and +this entourage, produced naturally enough a mind at once rapid of +insight and cautious of judgment, devoted almost equally to +business action and intellectual speculation, and on its +speculative side turned toward the fields of political history and +sociology.</p> +<p class="rgt"><img src="images/image256.png" width="40%" alt= +""><br> +<b>WALTER BAGEHOT</b></p> +<p>But there were equally important elements not traceable. His +freshness of mental vision, the strikingly novel points of view +from which he looked at every subject, was marvelous even in a +century so fertile of varied independences: he complained that "the +most galling of yokes is the tyranny of your next-door neighbor," +the obligation of thinking as he thinks. He had a keen, almost +reckless wit and delicious buoyant humor, whose utterances never +pall by repetition; few authors so abound in tenaciously quotable +phrases and passages of humorous intellectuality. What is rarely +found in connection with much humor, he had a sensitive dreaminess +of nature, strongly poetic in feeling, whence resulted a large +appreciation of the subtler classes of poetry; of which he was an +acute and sympathizing critic. As part of this temperament, he had +a strong bent toward mysticism,--in one essay he says flatly that +"mysticism is true,"--which gave him a rare insight into the +religious nature and some obscure problems of religious history; +though he was too cool, scientific, and humorous to be a great +theologian.</p> +<p>Above all, he had that instinct of selective art, in felicity of +words and salience of ideas, which elevates writing into +literature; which long after a thought has merged its being and use +in those of wider scope, keeps it in separate remembrance and +retains for its creator his due of credit through the artistic +charm of the shape he gave it.</p> +<p>The result of a mixture of traits popularly thought +incompatible, and usually so in reality,--a great relish for the +driest business facts and a creative literary gift,--was absolutely +unique. Bagehot explains the general sterility of literature as a +guide to life by the fact that "so few people who can write know +anything;" and began a reform in his own person, by applying all +his highest faculties--the best not only of his thought but of his +imagination and his literary skill--to the theme of his daily work, +banking and business affairs and political economy. There have been +many men of letters who were excellent business men and hard +bargainers, sometimes indeed merchants or bankers, but they have +held their literature as far as possible off the plane of their +bread-winning; they have not used it to explain and decorate the +latter and made that the motive of art. Bagehot loved business not +alone as the born trader loves it, for its profit and its +gratification of innate likings,--"business is really pleasanter +than pleasure, though it does not look so," he says in +substance,--but as an artist loves a picturesque situation or a +journalist a murder; it pleased his literary sense as material for +analysis and composition. He had in a high degree that union of the +practical and the musing faculties which in its (as yet) highest +degree made Shakespeare; but even Shakespeare did not write dramas +on how to make theatres pay, or sonnets on real-estate +speculation.</p> +<p>Bagehot's career was determined, as usual, partly by character +and partly by circumstances. He graduated at London University in +1848, and studied for and was called to the bar; but his father +owned an interest in a rich old provincial bank and a good +shipping-business, and instead of the law he joined in their +conduct. He had just before, however, passed a few months in +France, including the time of Louis Napoleon's <i>coup +d'état</i> in December, 1851; and from Paris he wrote to the +London Inquirer (a Unitarian weekly) a remarkable series of letters +on that event and its immediate sequents, defending the usurpation +vigorously and outlining his political creed, from whose main lines +he swerved but little in after life. Waiving the question whether +the defense was valid,--and like all first-rate minds, Bagehot is +even more instructive when he is wrong than when he is right, +because the wrong is sure to be almost right and the truth on its +side neglected,--the letters are full of fresh, acute, and even +profound ideas, sharp exposition of those primary objects of +government which demagogues and buncombe legislators ignore, racy +wit, sarcasm, and description (in one passage he rises for a moment +into really blood-stirring rhetoric), and proofs of his capacity +thus early for reducing the confused cross-currents of daily life +to the operation of great embracing laws. No other writing of a +youth of twenty-five on such subjects--or almost none--is worth +remembering at all for its matter; while this is perennially +wholesome and educative, as well as capital reading.</p> +<p>From this on he devoted most of his spare time to literature: +that he found so much spare time, and produced so much of a high +grade while winning respect as a business manager, proves the +excellent quality of his business brain. He was one of the editors +of the National Review, a very able and readable English quarterly, +from its foundation in 1854 to its death in 1863, and wrote for it +twenty literary, biographical, and theological papers, which are +among his best titles to enduring remembrance, and are full of his +choicest flavors, his wealth of thought, fun, poetic sensitiveness, +and deep religious feeling of the needs of human nature. Previous +to this, he had written some good articles for the Prospective +Review, and he wrote some afterwards for the Fortnightly Review +(including the series afterwards gathered into 'Physics and +Politics'), and other periodicals.</p> +<p>But his chief industry and most peculiar work was determined by +his marriage in 1858 to the daughter of James Wilson, an +ex-merchant who had founded the Economist as a journal of trade, +banking, and investment, and made it prosperous and rather +influential. Mr. Wilson was engaging in politics, where he rose to +high office and would probably have ended in the Cabinet; but being +sent to India to regulate its finances, died there in 1860. Bagehot +thereupon took control of the paper, and <i>was</i> the paper until +his death in 1877; and the position he gave it was as unique as his +own. On banking, finance, taxation, and political economy in +general his utterances had such weight that Chancellors of the +Exchequer consulted him as to the revenues, and the London business +world eagerly studied the paper for guidance. But he went far +beyond this, and made it an unexampled force in politics and +governmental science, personal to himself. For the first time a +great political thinker applied his mind week by week to discussing +the problems presented by passing politics, and expounding the +drift and meaning of current events in his nation and the others +which bore closest on it, as France and America. That he gained +such a hearing was due not alone to his immense ability, and to a +style carefully modeled on the conversation of business men with +each other, but to his cool moderation and evident aloofness from +party as party. He dissected each like a man of science: party was +to him a tool and not a religion. He gibed at the Tories; but the +Tories forgave him because he was half a Tory at heart,--he utterly +distrusted popular instincts and was afraid of popular ignorance. +He was rarely warm for the actual measures of the Liberals; but the +Liberals knew that he intensely despised the pig-headed +obstructiveness of the typical Tory, and had no kinship with the +blind worshipers of the <i>status quo</i>. To natives and +foreigners alike for many years the paper was single and +invaluable: in it one could find set forth acutely and +dispassionately the broad facts and the real purport of all great +legislative proposals, free from the rant and mendacity, the fury +and distortion, the prejudice and counter-prejudice of the party +press.</p> +<p>An outgrowth of his treble position as banker, economic writer, +and general littérateur, was his charming book 'Lombard +Street.' Most writers know nothing about business, he sets forth, +most business men cannot write, therefore most writing about +business is either unreadable or untrue: he put all his literary +gifts at its service, and produced a book as instructive as a trade +manual and more delightful than most novels. Its luminous, easy, +half-playful "business talk" is irresistibly captivating. It is a +description and analysis of the London money market and its +component parts,--the Bank of England, the joint-stock banks, the +private banks, and the bill-brokers. It will live, however, as +literature and as a picture, not as a banker's guide; as the +vividest outline of business London, of the "great commerce" and +the fabric of credit which is the basis of modern civilization and +of which London is the centre, that the world has ever known.</p> +<p>Previous to this, the most widely known of his works--'The +English Constitution,' much used as a text-book--had made a new +epoch in political analysis, and placed him among the foremost +thinkers and writers of his time. Not only did it revolutionize the +accepted mode of viewing that governmental structure, but as a +treatise on government in general its novel types of classification +are now admitted commonplaces. Besides its main themes, the book is +a great store of thought and suggestion on government, society, and +human nature,--for as in all his works, he pours on his nominal +subject a flood of illumination and analogy from the unlikeliest +sources; and a piece of eminently pleasurable reading from end to +end. Its basic novelty lay in what seems the most natural of +inquiries, but which in fact was left for Bagehot's original mind +even to think of,--the actual working of the governmental system in +practice, as distinguished from legal theory. The result of this +novel analysis was startling: old powers and checks went to the +rubbish heap, and a wholly new set of machinery and even new +springs of force and life were substituted. He argued that the +actual use of the English monarchy is not to do the work of +government, but through its roots in the past to gain popular +loyalty and support for the real government, which the masses would +not obey if they realized its genuine nature; that "it raises the +army though it does not win the battle." He showed that the +function of the House of Peers is not as a co-ordinate power with +the Commons (which is the real government), but as a revising body +and an index of the strength of popular feeling. Constitutional +governments he divides into Cabinet, where the people can change +the government at any time, and therefore follow its acts and +debates eagerly and instructedly; and Presidential, where they can +only change it at fixed terms, and are therefore apathetic and +ill-informed and care little for speeches which can effect +nothing.</p> +<p>Just before 'Lombard Street' came his scientific masterpiece, +'Physics and Politics'; a work which does for human society what +the 'Origin of Species' does for organic life, expounding its +method of progress from very low if not the lowest forms to higher +ones. Indeed, one of its main lines is only a special application +of Darwin's "natural selection" to societies, noting the survival +of the strongest (which implies in the long run the best developed +in all virtues that make for social cohesion) through conflict; but +the book is so much more than that, in spite of its heavy debt to +all scientific and institutional research, that it remains a +first-rate feat of original constructive thought. It is the more +striking from its almost ludicrous brevity compared with the +novelty, variety, and pregnancy of its ideas. It is scarcely more +than a pamphlet; one can read it through in an evening: yet there +is hardly any book which is a master-key to so many historical +locks, so useful a standard for referring scattered sociological +facts to, so clarifying to the mind in the study of early history. +The work is strewn with fertile and suggestive observations from +many branches of knowledge. Its leading idea of the needs and +difficulties of early societies is given in one of the +citations.</p> +<p>The unfinished 'Economic Studies' are partially a re-survey of +the same ground on a more limited scale, and contain in addition a +mass of the nicest and shrewdest observations on modern trade and +society, full of truth and suggestiveness. All the other books +printed under his name are collections either from the Economist or +from outside publications.</p> +<p>As a thinker, Bagehot's leading positions may be roughly +summarized thus: in history, that reasoning from the present to the +past is generally wrong and frequently nonsense; in politics, that +abstract systems are foolish, that a government which does not +benefit its subjects has no rights against one that will, that the +masses had much better let the upper ranks do the governing than +meddle with it themselves, that all classes are too eager to act +without thinking and ought not to attempt so much; in society, that +democracy is an evil because it leaves no specially trained upper +class to furnish models for refinement. But there is vastly more +besides this, and his value lies much more in the mental +clarification afforded by his details than in the new principles of +action afforded by his generalizations. He leaves men saner, +soberer, juster, with a clearer sense of perspective, of real +issues, that more than makes up for a slight diminution of +zeal.</p> +<p>As pure literature, the most individual trait in his writings +sprang from his scorn of mere word-mongering divorced from actual +life. "A man ought to have the right of being a Philistine if he +chooses," he tells us: "there is a sickly incompleteness in men too +fine for the world and too nice to work their way through it." A +great man of letters, no one has ever mocked his craft so +persistently. A great thinker, he never tired of humorously +magnifying the active and belittling the intellectual temperament. +Of course it was only half-serious: he admits the force and utility +of colossal visionaries like Shelley, constructive scholars like +Gibbon, ascetic artists like Milton, even light dreamers like +Hartley Coleridge; indeed, intellectually he appreciates all +intellectual force, and scorns feeble thought which has the +effrontery to show itself, and those who are "cross with the agony +of a new idea." But his heart goes out to the unscholarly Cavalier +with his dash and his loyalty, to the county member who "hardly +reads two books per existence," and even to the rustic who sticks +to his old ideas and whom "it takes seven weeks to comprehend an +atom of a new one." A petty surface consistency must not be exacted +from the miscellaneous utterances of a humorist: all sorts of +complementary half-truths are part of his service. His own quite +just conception of humor, as meaning merely full vision and +balanced judgment, is his best defense: "when a man has attained +the deep conception that there is such a thing as nonsense," he +says, "you may be sure of him for ever after." At bottom he is +thoroughly consistent: holding that the masses should work in +contented deference to their intellectual guides, but those guides +should qualify themselves by practical experience of life, that +poetry is not an amusement for lazy sybarites but the most +elevating of spiritual influences, that religions cut the roots of +their power by trying to avoid supernaturalism and cultivate +intelligibility, and that the animal basis of human life is a +screen expressly devised to shut off direct knowledge of God and +make character possible.</p> +<p>To make his acquaintance first is to enter upon a store of high +and fine enjoyment, and of strong and vivifying thought, which one +must be either very rich of attainment or very feeble of grasp to +find unprofitable or pleasureless.</p> +<p class="sign"><img src="images/sign261.png" width="60%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_1"></a> +<h3>THE VIRTUES OF STUPIDITY</h3> +<center>From 'Letters on the French Coup d'État'</center> +<p>I fear you will laugh when I tell you what I conceive to be +about the most essential mental quality for a free people whose +liberty is to be progressive, permanent, and on a large scale: it +is much stupidity. Not to begin by wounding any present +susceptibilities, let me take the Roman character; for with one +great exception,--I need not say to whom I allude,--they are the +great political people of history. Now, is not a certain dullness +their most visible characteristic? What is the history of their +speculative mind? a blank; what their literature? a copy. They have +left not a single discovery in any abstract science, not a single +perfect or well-formed work of high imagination. The Greeks, the +perfection of human and accomplished genius, bequeathed to mankind +the ideal forms of self-idolizing art, the Romans imitated and +admired; the Greeks explained the laws of nature, the Romans +wondered and despised; the Greeks invented a system of numerals +second only to that now in use, the Romans counted to the end of +their days with the clumsy apparatus which we still call by their +name; the Greeks made a capital and scientific calendar, the Romans +began their month when the Pontifex Maximus happened to spy out the +new moon. Throughout Latin literature, this is the perpetual +puzzle:--Why are we free and they slaves, we praetors and they +barbers? why do the stupid people always win and the clever people +always lose? I need not say that in real sound stupidity the +English are unrivaled: you'll hear more wit and better wit in an +Irish street row than would keep Westminster Hall in humor for five +weeks.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>In fact, what we opprobriously call "stupidity," though not an +enlivening quality in common society, is nature's favorite resource +for preserving steadiness of conduct and consistency of opinion; it +enforces concentration: people who learn slowly, learn only what +they must. The best security for people's doing their duty is, that +they should not know anything else to do; the best security for +fixedness of opinion is, that people should be incapable of +comprehending what is to be said on the other side. These valuable +truths are no discoveries of mine: they are familiar enough to +people whose business it is to know them. Hear what a douce and +aged attorney says of your peculiarly promising barrister:--"Sharp? +Oh, yes! he's too sharp by half. He is not <i>safe</i>, not a +minute, isn't that young man." I extend this, and advisedly +maintain that nations, just as individuals, may be too clever to be +practical and not dull enough to be free....</p> +<p>And what I call a proper stupidity keeps a man from all the +defects of this character: it chains the gifted possessor mainly to +his old ideas, it takes him seven weeks to comprehend an atom of a +new one; it keeps him from being led away by new theories, for +there is nothing which bores him so much; it restrains him within +his old pursuits, his well-known habits, his tried expedients, his +verified conclusions, his traditional beliefs. He is not tempted to +levity or impatience, for he does not see the joke and is +thick-skinned to present evils. Inconsistency puts him out: "What I +says is this here, as I was a-saying yesterday," is his notion of +historical eloquence and habitual discretion. He is very slow +indeed to be excited,--his passions, his feelings, and his +affections are dull and tardy strong things, falling in a certain +known direction, fixed on certain known objects, and for the most +part acting in a moderate degree and at a sluggish pace. You always +know where to find his mind. Now, this is exactly what (in politics +at least) you do not know about a Frenchman.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_2"></a> +<h3>REVIEW WRITING</h3> +<center>From 'The First Edinburgh Reviewers'</center> +<p>Review writing exemplifies the casual character of modern +literature: everything about it is temporary and fragmentary. Look +at a railway stall: you see books of every color,--blue, yellow, +crimson, "ring-streaked, speckled, and spotted,"--on every subject, +in every style, of every opinion, with every conceivable +difference, celestial or sublunary, maleficent, beneficent--but all +small. People take their literature in morsels, as they take +sandwiches on a journey....</p> +<p>And the change in appearance of books has been accompanied--has +been caused--by a similar change in readers. What a transition from +the student of former ages! from a grave man with grave cheeks and +a considerate eye, who spends his life in study, has no interest in +the outward world, hears nothing of its din and cares nothing for +its honors, who would gladly learn and gladly teach, whose whole +soul is taken up with a few books of 'Aristotle and his +Philosophy,'--to the merchant in the railway, with a head full of +sums, an idea that tallow is "up," a conviction that teas are +"lively," and a mind reverting perpetually from the little volume +which he reads to these mundane topics, to the railway, to the +shares, to the buying and bargaining universe. We must not wonder +that the outside of books is so different, when the inner nature of +those for whom they are written is so changed.</p> +<p>In this transition from ancient writing to modern, the +review-like essay and the essay-like review fill a large space. +Their small bulk, their slight pretension to systematic +completeness,--their avowal, it might be said, of necessary +incompleteness,--the facility of changing the subject, of selecting +points to attack, of exposing only the best corner for defense, are +great temptations. Still greater is the advantage of "our limits." +A real reviewer always spends his first and best pages on the parts +of a subject on which he wishes to write, the easy comfortable +parts which he knows. The formidable difficulties which he +acknowledges, you foresee by a strange fatality that he will only +reach two pages before the end; to his great grief, there is no +opportunity for discussing them. As a young gentleman at the India +House examination wrote "Time up" on nine unfinished papers in +succession, so you may occasionally read a whole review, in every +article of which the principal difficulty of each successive +question is about to be reached at the conclusion. Nor can any one +deny that this is the suitable skill, the judicious custom of the +craft.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_3"></a> +<h3>LORD ELDON</h3> +<center>From 'The First Edinburgh Reviewers'</center> +<p>As for Lord Eldon, it is the most difficult thing in the world +to believe that there ever was such a man; it only shows how +intense historical evidence is, that no one really doubts it. He +believed in everything which it is impossible to believe in,--in +the danger of Parliamentary Reform, the danger of Catholic +Emancipation, the danger of altering the Court of Chancery, the +danger of altering the courts of law, the danger of abolishing +capital punishment for trivial thefts, the danger of making +land-owners pay their debts, the danger of making anything more, +the danger of making anything less. It seems as if he maturely +thought, "Now, I know the present state of things to be consistent +with the existence of John Lord Eldon; but if we begin altering +that state, I am sure I do not know that it will be consistent." As +Sir Robert Walpole was against all committees of inquiry on the +simple ground, "If they once begin that sort of thing, who knows +who will be safe?" so that great Chancellor (still remembered in +his own scene) looked pleasantly down from the woolsack, and seemed +to observe, "Well, it <i>is</i> a queer thing that I should be +here, and here I mean to stay."</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_4"></a> +<h3>TASTE</h3> +<center>From 'Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning'</center> +<p>There is a most formidable and estimable <i>insane</i> taste. +The will has great though indirect power over the taste, just as it +has over the belief. There are some horrid beliefs from which human +nature revolts, from which at first it shrinks, to which at first +no effort can force it. But if we fix the mind upon them, they have +a power over us, just because of their natural offensiveness. They +are like the sight of human blood. Experienced soldiers tell us +that at first, men are sickened by the smell and newness of blood, +almost to death and fainting; but that as soon as they harden their +hearts and stiffen their minds, as soon as they <i>will</i> bear +it, then comes an appetite for slaughter, a tendency to gloat on +carnage, to love blood (at least for the moment) with a deep, eager +love. It is a principle that if we put down a healthy instinctive +aversion, nature avenges herself by creating an unhealthy insane +attraction. For this reason, the most earnest truth-seeking men +fall into the worst delusions. They will not let their mind alone; +they force it toward some ugly thing, which a crotchet of argument, +a conceit of intellect recommends: and nature punishes their +disregard of her warning by subjection to the ugly one, by belief +in it. Just so, the most industrious critics get the most +admiration. They think it unjust to rest in their instinctive +natural horror; they overcome it, and angry nature gives them over +to ugly poems and marries them to detestable stanzas.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_5"></a> +<h3>CAUSES OF THE STERILITY OF LITERATURE</h3> +<center>From 'Shakespeare, the Man,' etc.</center> +<p>The reason why so few good books are written is, that so few +people that can write know anything. In general, an author has +always lived in a room, has read books, has cultivated science, is +acquainted with the style and sentiments of the best authors, but +he is out of the way of employing his own eyes and ears. He has +nothing to hear and nothing to see. His life is a vacuum. The +mental habits of Robert Southey, which about a year ago were so +extensively praised in the public journals, are the type of +literary existence, just as the praise bestowed on them shows the +admiration excited by them among literary people. He wrote poetry +(as if anybody could) before breakfast; he read during breakfast. +He wrote history until dinner; he corrected proof-sheets between +dinner and tea; he wrote an essay for the Quarterly afterwards; and +after supper, by way of relaxation, composed 'The Doctor'--a +lengthy and elaborate jest. Now, what can any one think of such a +life?--except how clearly it shows that the habits best fitted for +communicating information, formed with the best care, and daily +regulated by the best motives, are exactly the habits which are +likely to afford a man the least information to communicate. +Southey had no events, no experiences. His wife kept house and +allowed him pocket-money, just as if he had been a German professor +devoted to accents, tobacco, and the dates of Horace's +amours....</p> +<p>The critic in the 'Vicar of Wakefield' lays down that you should +<i>always</i> say that the picture would have been better if the +painter had taken more pains; but in the case of the practiced +literary man, you should often enough say that the writings would +have been much better if the writer had taken less pains. He says +he has devoted his life to the subject; the reply is, "Then you +have taken the best way to prevent your making anything of it. +Instead of reading studiously what Burgersdicius and Aenesidemus +said men were, you should have gone out yourself and seen (if you +can see) what they are." But there is a whole class of minds which +prefer the literary delineation of objects to the actual eyesight +of them. Such a man would naturally think literature more +instructive than life. Hazlitt said of Mackintosh, "He might like +to read an <i>account</i> of India; but India itself, with its +burning, shining face, would be a mere blank, an endless waste to +him. Persons of this class have no more to say to a matter of fact +staring them in the face, without a label in its mouth, than they +would to a hippopotamus."...</p> +<p>After all, the original way of writing books may turn out to be +the best. The first author, it is plain, could not have taken +anything from books, since there were no books for him to copy +from; he looked at things for himself. Anyhow the modern system +fails, for where are the amusing books from voracious students and +habitual writers?</p> +<p>Moreover, in general, it will perhaps be found that persons +devoted to mere literature commonly become devoted to mere +idleness. They wish to produce a great work, but they find they +cannot. Having relinquished everything to devote themselves to +this, they conclude on trial that this is impossible; they wish to +write, but nothing occurs to them: therefore they write nothing and +they do nothing. As has been said, they have nothing to do; their +life has no events, unless they are very poor; with any decent +means of subsistence, they have nothing to rouse them from an +indolent and musing dream. A merchant must meet his bills, or he is +civilly dead and uncivilly remembered; but a student may know +nothing of time, and be too lazy to wind lip his watch.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_6"></a> +<h3>THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS</h3> +<center>From 'William Cowper'</center> +<p>If there be any truly painful fact about the world now tolerably +well established by ample experience and ample records, it is that +an intellectual and indolent happiness is wholly denied to the +children of men. That most valuable author, Lucretius, who has +supplied us and others with an almost inexhaustible supply of +metaphors on this topic, ever dwells on the life of his gods with a +sad and melancholy feeling that no such life was possible on a +crude and cumbersome earth. In general, the two opposing agencies +are marriage and lack of money; either of these breaks the lot of +literary and refined inaction at once and forever. The first of +these, as we have seen, Cowper had escaped; his reserved and +negligent reveries were still free, at least from the invasion of +affection. To this invasion, indeed, there is commonly requisite +the acquiescence or connivance of mortality; but all men are +born--not free and equal, as the Americans maintain, but, in the +Old World at least--basely subjected to the yoke of coin. It is in +vain that in this hemisphere we endeavor after impecuniary fancies. +In bold and eager youth we go out on our travels: we visit Baalbec +and Paphos and Tadmor and Cythera,--ancient shrines and ancient +empires, seats of eager love or gentle inspiration; we wander far +and long; we have nothing to do with our fellow-men,--what are we, +indeed, to diggers and counters? we wander far, we dream to wander +forever--but we dream in vain. A surer force than the subtlest +fascination of fancy is in operation; the purse-strings tie us to +our kind. Our travel coin runs low, and we must return, away from +Tadmor and Baalbec, back to our steady, tedious industry and dull +work, to "la vieille Europe" (as Napoleon said), "qui m'ennuie." It +is the same in thought: in vain we seclude ourselves in elegant +chambers, in fascinating fancies, in refined reflections.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_7"></a> +<h3>ON EARLY READING</h3> +<center>From 'Edward Gibbon'</center> +<p>In school work Gibbon had uncommon difficulties and unusual +deficiencies; but these were much more than counterbalanced by a +habit which often accompanies a sickly childhood, and is the +commencement of a studious life,--the habit of desultory reading. +The instructiveness of this is sometimes not comprehended. S.T. +Coleridge used to say that he felt a great superiority over those +who had not read--and fondly read--fairy tales in their childhood: +he thought they wanted a sense which he possessed, the perception, +or apperception--we do not know which he used to say it was--of the +unity and wholeness of the universe. As to fairy tales, this is a +hard saying; but as to desultory reading, it is certainly true. +Some people have known a time in life when there was no book they +could not read. The fact of its being a book went immensely in its +favor. In early life there is an opinion that the obvious thing to +do with a horse is to ride it; with a cake, to eat it; with +sixpence, to spend it. A few boys carry this further, and think the +natural thing to do with a book is to read it. There is an argument +from design in the subject: if the book was not meant for that +purpose, for what purpose was it meant? Of course, of any +understanding of the works so perused there is no question or idea. +There is a legend of Bentham, in his earliest childhood, climbing +to the height of a huge stool, and sitting there evening after +evening, with two candles, engaged in the perusal of Rapin's +history; it might as well have been any other book. The doctrine of +utility had not then dawned on its immortal teacher; <i>cui +bono</i> was an idea unknown to him. He would have been ready to +read about Egypt, about Spain, about coals in Borneo, the teak-wood +in India, the current in the River Mississippi, on natural history +or human history, on theology or morals, on the state of the Dark +Ages or the state of the Light Ages, on Augustulus or Lord Chatham, +on the first century or the seventeenth, on the moon, the +millennium, or the whole duty of man. Just then, reading is an end +in itself. At that time of life you no more think of a future +consequence--of the remote, the very remote possibility of deriving +knowledge from the perusal of a book, than you expect so great a +result from spinning a peg-top. You spin the top, and you read the +book; and these scenes of life are exhausted. In such studies, of +all prose, perhaps the best is history: one page is so like +another, battle No. 1 is so much on a par with battle No. 2. Truth +may be, as they say, stranger than fiction, abstractedly; but in +actual books, novels are certainly odder and more astounding than +correct history.</p> +<p>It will be said, What is the use of this? why not leave the +reading of great books till a great age? why plague and perplex +childhood with complex facts remote from its experience and +inapprehensible by its imagination? The reply is, that though in +all great and combined facts there is much which childhood cannot +thoroughly imagine, there is also in very many a great deal which +can only be truly apprehended for the first time at that age. Youth +has a principle of consolidation; we begin with the whole. Small +sciences are the labors of our manhood; but the round universe is +the plaything of the boy. His fresh mind shoots out vaguely and +crudely into the infinite and eternal. Nothing is hid from the +depth of it; there are no boundaries to its vague and wandering +vision. Early science, it has been said, begins in utter nonsense; +it would be truer to say that it starts with boyish fancies. How +absurd seem the notions of the first Greeks! Who could believe now +that air or water was the principle, the pervading substance, the +eternal material of all things? Such affairs will never explain a +thick rock. And what a white original for a green and sky-blue +world! Yet people disputed in these ages not whether it was either +of those substances, but which of them it was. And doubtless there +was a great deal, at least in quantity, to be said on both sides. +Boys are improved; but some in our own day have asked, "Mamma, I +say, what did God make the world of?" and several, who did not +venture on speech, have had an idea of some one gray primitive +thing, felt a difficulty as to how the red came, and wondered that +marble could <i>ever</i> have been the same as moonshine. This is +in truth the picture of life. We begin with the infinite and +eternal, which we shall never apprehend; and these form a +framework, a schedule, a set of co-ordinates to which we refer all +which we learn later. At first, like the old Greek, "We look up to +the whole sky, and are lost in the one and the all;" in the end we +classify and enumerate, learn each star, calculate distances, draw +cramped diagrams on the unbounded sky, write a paper on a Cygni and +a treatise on e Draconis, map special facts upon the indefinite +void, and engrave precise details on the infinite and everlasting. +So in history: somehow the whole comes in boyhood, the details +later and in manhood. The wonderful series, going far back to the +times of old patriarchs with their flocks and herds, the keen-eyed +Greek, the stately Roman, the watching Jew, the uncouth Goth, the +horrid Hun, the settled picture of the unchanging East, the +restless shifting of the rapid West, the rise of the cold and +classical civilization, its fall, the rough impetuous Middle Ages, +the vague warm picture of ourselves and home,--when did we learn +these? Not yesterday nor to-day: but long ago, in the first dawn of +reason, in the original flow of fancy. What we learn afterwards are +but the accurate littlenesses of the great topic, the dates and +tedious facts. Those who begin late learn only these; but the happy +first feel the mystic associations and the progress of the +whole.</p> +<p>However exalted may seem the praises which we have given to +loose and unplanned reading, we are not saying that it is the sole +ingredient of a good education. Besides this sort of education, +which some boys will voluntarily and naturally give themselves, +there needs, of course, another and more rigorous kind, which must +be impressed upon them from without. The terrible difficulty of +early life--the <i>use</i> of pastors and masters really is, that +they compel boys to a distinct mastery of that which they do not +wish to learn. There is nothing to be said for a preceptor who is +not dry. Mr. Carlyle describes, with bitter satire, the fate of one +of his heroes who was obliged to acquire whole systems of +information in which he, the hero, saw no use, and which he kept, +as far as might be, in a vacant corner of his mind. And this is the +very point: dry language, tedious mathematics, a thumbed grammar, a +detested slate form gradually an interior separate intellect, exact +in its information, rigid in its requirements, disciplined in its +exercises. The two grow together; the early natural fancy touching +the far extremities of the universe, lightly playing with the +scheme of all things; the precise, compacted memory slowly +accumulating special facts, exact habits, clear and painful +conceptions. At last, as it were in a moment, the cloud breaks up, +the division sweeps away; we find that in fact these exercises +which puzzled us, these languages which we hated, these details +which we despised, are the instruments of true thought; are the +very keys and openings, the exclusive access to the knowledge which +we loved.</p> +<br> +<a name="image273.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image273.jpg"><img src= +"images/image273.jpg" width="80%" alt=""></a><br> +<i>THE CAVALIERS</i>.<br> +Photogravure from a Painting by F. Vinea.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_8"></a> +<h3>THE CAVALIERS</h3> +<center>From 'Thomas Babington Macaulay'</center> +<p>What historian has ever estimated the Cavalier character? There +is Clarendon, the grave, rhetorical, decorous lawyer, piling words, +congealing arguments; very stately, a little grim. There is Hume, +the Scotch metaphysician, who has made out the best case for such +people as never were, for a Charles who never died, for a Strafford +who would never have been attainted; a saving, calculating +North-country man, fat, impassive, who lived on eightpence a day. +What have these people to do with an enjoying English gentleman? It +is easy for a doctrinaire to bear a post-mortem examination,--it is +much the same whether he be alive or dead; but not so with those +who live during their life, whose essence is existence, whose being +is in animation. There seem to be some characters who are not made +for history, as there are some who are not made for old age. A +Cavalier is always young. The buoyant life arises before us, rich +in hope, strong in vigor, irregular in action; men young and +ardent, "framed in the prodigality of nature"; open to every +enjoyment, alive to every passion, eager, impulsive; brave without +discipline, noble without principle; prizing luxury, despising +danger; capable of high sentiment, but in each of whom the</p> +<blockquote>"Addiction was to courses vain,<br> +His companies unlettered, rude, and shallow,<br> +His hours filled up with riots, banquets, sports,<br> +And never noted in him any study,<br> +Any retirement, any sequestration<br> +From open haunts and popularity."</blockquote> +<p>We see these men setting forth or assembling to defend their +king or church, and we see it without surprise; a rich daring loves +danger, a deep excitability likes excitement. If we look around us, +we may see what is analogous: some say that the battle of the Alma +was won by the "uneducated gentry"; the "uneducated gentry" would +be Cavaliers now. The political sentiment is part of the character; +the essence of Toryism is enjoyment. Talk of the ways of spreading +a wholesome conservatism throughout this country! Give painful +lectures, distribute weary tracts (and perhaps this is as +well,--you may be able to give an argumentative answer to a few +objections, you may diffuse a distinct notion of the dignified +dullness of politics); but as far as communicating and establishing +your creed are concerned, try a little pleasure. The way to keep up +old customs is to enjoy old customs; the way to be satisfied with +the present state of things is to enjoy that state of things. Over +the "Cavalier" mind this world passes with a thrill of delight; +there is an exaltation in a daily event, zest in the "regular +thing," joy at an old feast.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_9"></a> +<h3>MORALITY AND FEAR</h3> +<center>From 'Bishop Butler'</center> +<p>The moral principle (whatever may be said to the contrary by +complacent thinkers) is really and to most men a principle of fear. +The delights of a good conscience may be reserved for better +things, but few men who know themselves will say that they have +often felt them by vivid and actual experience; a sensation of +shame, of reproach, of remorse, of sin (to use the word we +instinctively shrink from because it expresses the meaning), is +what the moral principle really and practically thrusts on most +men. Conscience is the condemnation of ourselves; we expect a +penalty. As the Greek proverb teaches, "where there is shame there +is fear"; where there is the deep and intimate anxiety of +guilt,--the feeling which has driven murderers and other than +murderers forth to wastes and rocks and stones and tempests,--we +see, as it were, in a single complex and indivisible sensation, the +pain and sense of guilt and the painful anticipation of its +punishment. How to be free from this, is the question; how to get +loose from this; how to be rid of the secret tie which binds the +strong man and cramps his pride, and makes him angry at the beauty +of the universe,--which will not let him go forth like a great +animal, like the king of the forest, in the glory of his might, but +restrains him with an inner fear and a secret foreboding that if he +do but exalt himself he shall be abased, if he do but set forth his +own dignity he will offend ONE who will deprive him of it. This, as +has often been pointed out, is the source of the bloody rites of +heathendom. You are going to battle, you are going out in the +bright sun with dancing plumes and glittering spear; your shield +shines, and your feathers wave, and your limbs are glad with the +consciousness of strength, and your mind is warm with glory and +renown; with coming glory and unobtained renown: for who are you to +hope for these; who are <i>you</i> to go forth proudly against the +pride of the sun, with your secret sin and your haunting shame and +your real fear? First lie down and abase yourself; strike your back +with hard stripes; cut deep with a sharp knife, as if you would +eradicate the consciousness; cry aloud; put ashes on your head; +bruise yourself with stones,--then perhaps God may pardon you. Or, +better still (so runs the incoherent feeling), give him +something--your ox, your ass, whole hecatombs if you are rich +enough; anything, it is but a chance,--you do not know what will +please him; at any rate, what you love best yourself,--that is, +most likely, your first-born son. Then, after such gifts and such +humiliation, he may be appeased, he may let you off; he may without +anger let you go forth, Achilles-like, in the glory of your shield; +he may <i>not</i> send you home as he would else, the victim of +rout and treachery, with broken arms and foul limbs, in weariness +and humiliation. Of course, it is not this kind of fanaticism that +we impute to a prelate of the English Church; human sacrifices are +not respectable, and Achilles was not rector of Stanhope. But +though the costume and circumstances of life change, the human +heart does not; its feelings remain. The same anxiety, the same +consciousness of personal sin which led in barbarous times to what +has been described, show themselves in civilized life as well. In +this quieter period, their great manifestation is scrupulosity: a +care about the ritual of life; an attention to meats and drinks, +and "cups and washings." Being so unworthy as we are, feeling what +we feel, abased as we are abased, who shall say that those are +beneath us? In ardent, imaginative youth they may seem so; but let +a few years come, let them dull the will or contract the heart or +stain the mind; then the consequent feeling will be, as all +experience shows, not that a ritual is too mean, too low, too +degrading for human nature, but that it is a mercy we have to do no +more,--that we have only to wash in Jordan, that we have not even +to go out into the unknown distance to seek for Abana and Pharpar, +rivers of Damascus. We have no right to judge; we cannot decide; we +must do what is laid down for us,--we fail daily even in this; we +must never cease for a moment in our scrupulous anxiety to omit by +no tittle and to exceed by no iota.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_10"></a> +<h3>THE TYRANNY OF CONVENTION</h3> +<center>From 'Sir Robert Peel'</center> +<p>It might be said that this [necessity for newspapers and +statesmen of following the crowd] is only one of the results of +that tyranny of commonplace which seems to accompany civilization. +You may talk of the tyranny of Nero and Tiberius; but the real +tyranny is the tyranny of your next-door neighbor. What law is so +cruel as the law of doing what he does? What yoke is so galling as +the necessity of being like him? What espionage of despotism comes +to your door so effectually as the eye of the man who lives at your +door? Public opinion is a permeating influence, and it exacts +obedience to itself; it requires us to think other men's thoughts, +to speak other men's words, to follow other men's habits. Of +course, if we do not, no formal ban issues; no corporeal pain, no +coarse penalty of a barbarous society is inflicted on the offender; +but we are called "eccentric"; there is a gentle murmur of "most +unfortunate ideas," "singular young man," "well-intentioned, I dare +say; but unsafe, sir, quite unsafe."</p> +<p>Whatever truth there may be in these splenetic observations +might be expected to show itself more particularly in the world of +politics: people dread to be thought unsafe in proportion as they +get their living by being thought to be safe. Those who desire a +public career must look to the views of the living public; an +immediate exterior influence is essential to the exertion of their +faculties. The confidence of others is your <i>fulcrum:</i> you +cannot--many people wish you could--go into Parliament to represent +yourself; you must conform to the opinions of the electors, and +they, depend on it, will not be original. In a word, as has been +most wisely observed, "under free institutions it is necessary +occasionally to defer to the opinions of other people; and as other +people are obviously in the wrong, this is a great hindrance to the +improvement of our political system and the progress of our +species."</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_11"></a> +<h3>HOW TO BE AN INFLUENTIAL POLITICIAN</h3> +<center>From 'Bolingbroke'</center> +<p>It is very natural that brilliant and vehement men should +depreciate Harley; for he had nothing which they possess, but had +everything which they commonly do not possess. He was by nature a +moderate man. In that age they called such a man a "trimmer," but +they called him ill: such a man does not consciously shift or +purposely trim his course,--he firmly believes that he is +substantially consistent. "I do not wish in this House," he would +say in our age, "to be a party to any extreme course. Mr. Gladstone +brings forward a great many things which I cannot understand; I +assure you he does. There is more in that bill of his about tobacco +than he thinks; I am confident there is. Money is a serious thing, +a <i>very</i> serious thing. And I am sorry to say Mr. Disraeli +commits the party very much: he avows sentiments which are +injudicious; I cannot go along with him, nor can Sir John. He was +not taught the catechism; I know he was not. There is a want in him +of sound and sober religion,--and Sir John agrees with me,--which +would keep him from distressing the clergy, who are very important. +Great orators are very well; but as I said, how is the revenue? And +the point is, not be led away, and to be moderate, and not to go to +an extreme. As soon as it seems <i>very</i> clear, then I begin to +doubt. I have been many years in Parliament, and that is my +experience." We may laugh at such speeches, but there have been +plenty of them in every English Parliament. A great English divine +has been described as always leaving out the principle upon which +his arguments rested; even if it was stated to him, he regarded it +as far-fetched and extravagant. Any politician who has this temper +of mind will always have many followers; and he may be nearly sure +that all great measures will be passed more nearly as he wishes +them to be passed than as great orators wish. Nine-tenths of +mankind are more afraid of violence than of anything else; and +inconsistent moderation is always popular, because of all qualities +it is most opposite to violence,--most likely to preserve the +present safe existence.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_12"></a> +<h3>CONDITIONS OF CABINET GOVERNMENT</h3> +<center>From 'The English Constitution'</center> +<p>The conditions of fitness are two: first, you must get a good +legislature; and next, you must keep it good. And these are by no +means so nearly connected as might be thought at first sight. To +keep a legislature efficient, it must have a sufficient supply of +substantial business: if you employ the best set of men to do +nearly nothing, they will quarrel with each other about that +nothing; where great questions end, little parties begin. And a +very happy community, with few new laws to make, few old bad laws +to repeal, and but simple foreign relations to adjust, has great +difficulty in employing a legislature,--there is nothing for it to +enact and nothing for it to settle. Accordingly, there is great +danger that the legislature, being debarred from all other kinds of +business, may take to quarreling about its elective business; that +controversies as to ministries may occupy all its time, and yet +that time be perniciously employed; that a constant succession of +feeble administrations, unable to govern and unfit to govern, may +be substituted for the proper result of cabinet government, a +sufficient body of men long enough in power to evince their +sufficiency. The exact amount of non-elective business necessary +for a parliament which is to elect the executive cannot, of course, +be formally stated,--there are no numbers and no statistics in the +theory of constitutions; all we can say is, that a parliament with +little business, which is to be as efficient as a parliament with +much business, must be in all other respects much better. An +indifferent parliament may be much improved by the steadying effect +of grave affairs; but a parliament which has no such affairs must +be intrinsically excellent, or it will fail utterly.</p> +<p>But the difficulty of keeping a good legislature is evidently +secondary to the difficulty of first getting it. There are two +kinds of nations which can elect a good parliament. The first is a +nation in which the mass of the people are intelligent, and in +which they are comfortable. Where there is no honest poverty, where +education is diffused and political intelligence is common, it is +easy for the mass of the people to elect a fair legislature. The +ideal is roughly realized in the North American colonies of +England, and in the whole free States of the Union: in these +countries there is no such thing as honest poverty,--physical +comfort, such as the poor cannot imagine here, is there easily +attainable by healthy industry; education is diffused much, and is +fast spreading,--ignorant emigrants from the Old World often prize +the intellectual advantages of which they are themselves destitute, +and are annoyed at their inferiority in a place where rudimentary +culture is so common. The greatest difficulty of such new +communities is commonly geographical: the population is mostly +scattered; and where population is sparse, discussion is difficult. +But in a country very large as we reckon in Europe, a people really +intelligent, really educated, really comfortable, would soon form a +good opinion. No one can doubt that the New England States, if they +were a separate community, would have an education, a political +capacity, and an intelligence such as the numerical majority of no +people equally numerous has ever possessed: in a State of this +sort, where all the community is fit to choose a sufficient +legislature, it is possible, it is almost easy, to create that +legislature. If the New England States possessed a cabinet +government as a separate nation, they would be as renowned in the +world for political sagacity as they now are for diffused +happiness.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_13"></a> +<h3>WHY EARLY SOCIETIES COULD NOT BE FREE</h3> +<center>From 'Physics and Politics'</center> +<p>I believe the general description in which Sir John Lubbock sums +up his estimate of the savage mind suits the patriarchal mind: +"Savages," he says, "have the character of children with the +passions and strength of men."...</p> +<p>And this is precisely what we should expect. "An inherited +drill," science says, "makes modern nations what they are; their +born structure bears the trace of the laws of their fathers:" but +the ancient nations came into no such inheritance,--they were the +descendants of people who did what was right in their own eyes; +they were born to no tutored habits, no preservative bonds, and +therefore they were at the mercy of every impulse and blown by +every passion....</p> +<p>Again, I at least cannot call up to myself the loose conceptions +(as they must have been) of morals which then existed. If we set +aside all the element derived from law and polity which runs +through our current moral notions, I hardly know what we shall have +left. The residuum was somehow and in some vague way intelligible +to the ante-political man; but it must have been uncertain, +wavering, and unfit to be depended upon. In the best cases it +existed much as the vague feeling of beauty now exists in minds +sensitive but untaught,--a still small voice of uncertain meaning, +an unknown something modifying everything else and higher than +anything else, yet in form so indistinct that when you looked for +it, it was gone; or if this be thought the delicate fiction of a +later fancy, then morality was at least to be found in the wild +spasms of "wild justice," half punishment, half outrage: but +anyhow, being unfixed by steady law, it was intermittent, vague, +and hard for us to imagine....</p> +<p>To sum up:--<i>Law</i>--rigid, definite, concise law--is the +primary want of early mankind; that which they need above anything +else, that which is requisite before they can gain anything else. +But it is their greatest difficulty as well as their first +requisite; the thing most out of their reach as well as that most +beneficial to them if they reach it. In later ages, many races have +gained much of this discipline quickly though painfully,--a loose +set of scattered clans has been often and often forced to +substantial settlement by a rigid conqueror; the Romans did half +the work for above half Europe. But where could the first ages find +Romans or a conqueror? men conquer by the power of government, and +it was exactly government which then was not. The first ascent of +civilization was at a steep gradient, though when now we look down +upon it, it seems almost nothing.</p> +<p>How the step from no polity to polity was made, distinct history +does not record.... But when once polities were begun, there is no +difficulty in explaining why they lasted. Whatever may be said +against the principle of "natural selection" in other departments, +there is no doubt of its predominance in early human history: the +strongest killed out the weakest as they could. And I need not +pause to prove that any form of polity is more efficient than none; +that an aggregate of families owning even a slippery allegiance to +a single head would be sure to have the better of a set of families +acknowledging no obedience to any one, but scattering loose about +the world and fighting where they stood. Homer's Cyclops would be +powerless against the feeblest band; so far from its being singular +that we find no other record of that state of man, so unstable and +sure to perish was it that we should rather wonder at even a single +vestige lasting down to the age when for picturesqueness it became +valuable in poetry.</p> +<p>But though the origin of polity is dubious, we are upon the +<i>terra firma</i> of actual records when we speak of the +preservation of polities. Perhaps every young Englishman who comes +nowadays to Aristotle or Plato is struck with their conservatism: +fresh from the liberal doctrines of the present age, he wonders at +finding in those recognized teachers so much contrary teaching. +They both, unlike as they are, hold with Xenophon so unlike both, +that man is "the hardest of all animals to govern." Of Plato it +might indeed be plausibly said that the adherents of an intuitive +philosophy, being "the Tories of speculation," have commonly been +prone to conservatism in government; but Aristotle, the founder of +the experience philosophy, ought according to that doctrine to have +been a Liberal if any one ever was a Liberal. In fact, both of +these men lived when men "had not had time to forget" the +difficulties of government: we have forgotten them altogether. We +reckon as the basis of our culture upon an amount of order, of +tacit obedience, of prescriptive governability, which these +philosophers hoped to get as a principal result of their culture; +we take without thought as a <i>datum</i> what they hunted as a +<i>quaesitum</i>.</p> +<p>In early times the quantity of government is much more important +than its quality. What you want is a comprehensive rule binding men +together, making them do much the same things, telling them what to +expect of each other,--fashioning them alike and keeping them so: +what this rule is, does not matter so much. A good rule is better +than a bad one, but any rule is better than none; while, for +reasons which a jurist will appreciate, none can be very good. But +to gain that rule, what may be called the "impressive" elements of +a polity are incomparably more important than its useful elements. +How to get the obedience of men, is the hard problem; what you do +with that obedience is less critical.</p> +<p>To gain that obedience, the primary condition is the +identity--not the union, but the sameness--of what we now call +"church" and "state."... No division of power is then endurable +without danger, probably without destruction: the priest must not +teach one thing and the king another; king must be priest and +prophet king,--the two must say the same because they are the same. +The idea of difference between spiritual penalties and legal +penalties must never be awakened,--indeed, early Greek thought or +early Roman thought would never have comprehended it; there was a +kind of rough public opinion, and there were rough--very +rough--hands which acted on it. We now talk of "political +penalties" and "ecclesiastical prohibition" and "the social +censure"; but they were all one then. Nothing is very like those +old communities now, but perhaps a trades-union is as near as most +things: to work cheap is thought to be a "wicked" thing, and so +some Broadhead puts it down.</p> +<p>The object of such organizations is to create what may be called +a <i>cake</i> of custom. All the actions of life are to be +submitted to a single rule for a single object,--that gradually +created "hereditary drill" which science teaches to be essential, +and which the early instinct of men saw to be essential too. That +this <i>régime</i> forbids free thought is not an evil,--or +rather, though an evil, it is the necessary basis for the greatest +good; it is necessary for making the mold of civilization and +hardening the soft fibre of early man.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_14"></a> +<h3>BENEFITS OF FREE DISCUSSION IN MODERN TIMES</h3> +<center>From 'Physics and Politics'</center> +<p>In this manner polities of discussion broke up the old bonds of +custom which were now strangling mankind, though they had once +aided and helped it; but this is only one of the many gifts which +those polities have conferred, are conferring, and will confer on +mankind. I am not going to write a eulogium on liberty, but I wish +to set down three points which have not been sufficiently +noticed.</p> +<p>Civilized ages inherit the human nature which was victorious in +barbarous ages, and that nature is in many respects not at all +suited to civilized circumstances. A main and principal excellence +in the early times of the human races is the impulse to action. The +problems before men are then plain and simple: the man who works +hardest, the man who kills the most deer, the man who catches the +most fish--even later on, the man who tends the largest herds or +the man who tills the largest field--is the man who succeeds; the +nation which is quickest to kill its enemies or which kills most of +its enemies is the nation which succeeds. All the inducements of +early society tend to foster immediate action, all its penalties +fall on the man who pauses; the traditional wisdom of those times +was never weary of inculcating that "delays are dangerous," and +that the sluggish man--the man "who roasteth not that which he took +in hunting"--will not prosper on the earth, and indeed will very +soon perish out of it: and in consequence an inability to stay +quiet, an irritable desire to act directly, is one of the most +conspicuous failings of mankind.</p> +<p>Pascal said that most of the evils of life arose from "man's +being unable to sit still in a room"; and though I do not go that +length, it is certain that we should have been a far wiser race +than we are if we had been readier to sit quiet,--we should have +known much better the way in which it was best to act when we came +to act. The rise of physical science, the first great body of +practical truth provable to all men, exemplifies this in the +plainest way: if it had not been for quiet people who sat still and +studied the sections of the cone, if other quiet people had not sat +still and studied the theory of infinitesimals, or other quiet +people had not sat still and worked out the doctrine of chances +(the most "dreamy moonshine," as the purely practical mind would +consider, of all human pursuits), if "idle star-gazers" had not +watched long and carefully the motions of the heavenly bodies,--our +modern astronomy would have been impossible, and without our +astronomy "our ships, our colonies, our seamen," all which makes +modern life modern life, could not have existed. Ages of sedentary, +quiet, thinking people were required before that noisy existence +began, and without those pale preliminary students it never could +have been brought into being. And nine-tenths of modern science is +in this respect the same: it is the produce of men whom their +contemporaries thought dreamers, who were laughed at for caring for +what did not concern them, who as the proverb went "walked into a +well from looking at the stars," who were believed to be useless if +any one could be such. And the conclusion is plain that if there +had been more such people, if the world had not laughed at those +there were, if rather it had encouraged them, there would have been +a great accumulation of proved science ages before there was. It +was the irritable activity, the "wish to be doing something," that +prevented it,--most men inherited a nature too eager and too +restless to be quiet and find out things: and even worse, with +their idle clamor they "disturbed the brooding hen"; they would not +let those be quiet who wished to be so, and out of whose calm +thought much good might have come forth.</p> +<p>If we consider how much science has done and how much it is +doing for mankind, and if the over-activity of men is proved to be +the cause why science came so late into the world and is so small +and scanty still, that will convince most people that our +over-activity is a very great evil; but this is only part and +perhaps not the greatest part, of the harm that over-activity does. +As I have said, it is inherited from times when life was simple, +objects were plain, and quick action generally led to desirable +ends: if A kills B before B kills A, then A survives, and the human +race is a race of A's. But the issues of life are plain no longer: +to act rightly in modern society requires a great deal of previous +study, a great deal of assimilated information, a great deal of +sharpened imagination; and these prerequisites of sound action +require much time, and I was going to say much "lying in the sun," +a long period of "mere passiveness."</p> +<p>[Argument to show that the same vice of impatience damages war, +philanthropy, commerce, and even speculation.]</p> +<p>But it will be said, What has government by discussion to do +with these things? will it prevent them, or even mitigate them? It +can and does do both, in the very plainest way. If you want to stop +instant and immediate action, always make it a condition that the +action shall not begin till a considerable number of persons have +talked over it and have agreed on it. If those persons be people of +different temperaments, different ideas, and different educations, +you have an almost infallible security that nothing or almost +nothing will be done with excessive rapidity. Each kind of persons +will have their spokesman; each spokesman will have his +characteristic objection and each his characteristic +counter-proposition: and so in the end nothing will probably be +done, or at least only the minimum which is plainly urgent. In many +cases this delay may be dangerous, in many cases quick action will +be preferable; a campaign, as Macaulay well says, cannot be +directed by a "debating society," and many other kinds of action +also require a single and absolute general: but for the purpose now +in hand--that of preventing hasty action and insuring elaborate +consideration--there is no device like a polity of discussion.</p> +<p>The enemies of this object--the people who want to act +quickly--see this very distinctly: they are forever explaining that +the present is "an age of committees," that the committees do +nothing, that all evaporates in talk. Their great enemy is +parliamentary government: they call it, after Mr. Carlyle, the +"national palaver"; they add up the hours that are consumed in it +and the speeches which are made in it, and they sigh for a time +when England might again be ruled, as it once was, by a +Cromwell,--that is, when an eager absolute man might do exactly +what other eager men wished, and do it immediately. All these +invectives are perpetual and many-sided; they come from +philosophers each of whom wants some new scheme tried, from +philanthropists who want some evil abated, from revolutionists who +want some old institution destroyed, from new-eraists who want +their new era started forthwith: and they all are distinct +admissions that a polity of discussion is the greatest hindrance to +the inherited mistake of human nature,--to the desire to act +promptly, which in a simple age is so excellent, but which in a +later and complex time leads to so much evil.</p> +<p>The same accusation against our age sometimes takes a more +general form: it is alleged that our energies are diminishing, that +ordinary and average men have not the quick determination nowadays +which they used to have when the world was younger, that not only +do not committees and parliaments act with rapid decisiveness, but +that no one now so acts; and I hope that in fact this is true, for +according to me it proves that the hereditary barbaric impulse is +decaying and dying out. So far from thinking the quality attributed +to us a defect, I wish that those who complain of it were far more +right than I much fear they are. Still, certainly, eager and +violent action <i>is</i> somewhat diminished, though only by a +small fraction of what it ought to be; and I believe that this is +in great part due, in England at least, to our government by +discussion, which has fostered a general intellectual tone, a +diffused disposition to weigh evidence, a conviction that much may +be said on every side of everything which the elder and more +fanatic ages of the world wanted. This is the real reason why our +energies seem so much less than those of our fathers. When we have +a definite end in view, which we know we want and which we think we +know how to obtain, we can act well enough: the campaigns of our +soldiers are as energetic as any campaigns ever were; the +speculations of our merchants have greater promptitude, greater +audacity, greater vigor than any such speculations ever had before. +In old times a few ideas got possession of men and communities, but +this is happily now possible no longer: we see how incomplete these +old ideas were; how almost by chance one seized on one nation and +another on another; how often one set of men have persecuted +another set for opinions on subjects of which neither, we now +perceive, knew anything. It might be well if a greater number of +effectual demonstrations existed among mankind: but while no such +demonstrations exist, and while the evidence which completely +convinces one man seems to another trifling and insufficient, let +us recognize the plain position of inevitable doubt; let us not be +bigots with a doubt and persecutors without a creed. We are +beginning to see this, and we are railed at for so beginning: but +it is a great benefit, and it is to the incessant prevalence of +detective discussion that our doubts are due; and much of that +discussion is due to the long existence of a government requiring +constant debates, written and oral.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGEHOT_15"></a> +<h3>ORIGIN OF DEPOSIT BANKING</h3> +<center>From 'Lombard Street'</center> +<p>In the last century, a favorite subject of literary ingenuity +was "conjectural history," as it was then called: upon grounds of +probability, a fictitious sketch was made of the possible origin of +things existing. If this kind of speculation were now applied to +banking, the natural and first idea would be that large systems of +deposit banking grew up in the early world just as they grow up now +in any large English colony. As soon as any such community becomes +rich enough to have much money, and compact enough to be able to +lodge its money in single banks, it at once begins so to do. +English colonists do not like the risk of keeping their money, and +they wish to make an interest on it; they carry from home the idea +and the habit of banking, and they take to it as soon as they can +in their new world. Conjectural history would be inclined to say +that all banking began thus; but such history is rarely of any +value,--the basis of it is false. It assumes that what works most +easily when established is that which it would be the most easy to +establish, and that what seems simplest when familiar would be most +easily appreciated by the mind though unfamiliar; but exactly the +contrary is true,--many things which seem simple, and which work +well when firmly established, are very hard to establish among new +people and not very easy to explain to them. Deposit banking is of +this sort. Its essence is, that a very large number of persons +agree to trust a very few persons, or some one person: banking +would not be a profitable trade if bankers were not a small number, +and depositors in comparison an immense number. But to get a great +number of persons to do exactly the same thing is always very +difficult, and nothing but a very palpable necessity will make them +on a sudden begin to do it; and there is no such palpable necessity +in banking.</p> +<p>If you take a country town in France, even now, you will not +find any such system of banking as ours: check-books are unknown, +and money kept on running account by bankers is rare: people store +their money in a <i>caisse</i> at their houses. Steady savings, +which are waiting for investment and which are sure not to be soon +wanted, may be lodged with bankers; but the common floating cash of +the community is kept by the community themselves at home,--they +prefer to keep it so, and it would not answer a banker's purpose to +make expensive arrangements for keeping it otherwise. If a +"branch," such as the National Provincial Bank opens in an English +country town, were opened in a corresponding French one, it would +not pay its expenses: you could not get any sufficient number of +Frenchmen to agree to put their money there.</p> +<p>And so it is in all countries not of British descent, though in +various degrees. Deposit banking is a very difficult thing to +begin, because people do not like to let their money out of their +sight; especially, do not like to let it out of sight without +security; still more, cannot all at once agree on any single person +to whom they are content to trust it unseen and unsecured. +Hypothetical history, which explains the past by what is simplest +and commonest in the present, is in banking, as in most things, +quite untrue.</p> +<p>The real history is very different. New wants are mostly +supplied by adaptation, not by creation or foundation; something +having been created to satisfy an extreme want, it is used to +satisfy less pressing wants or to supply additional conveniences. +On this account, political government, the oldest institution in +the world, has been the hardest worked: at the beginning of +history, we find it doing everything which society wants done and +forbidding everything which society does <i>not</i> wish done. In +trade, at present, the first commerce in a new place is a general +shop, which, beginning with articles of real necessity, comes +shortly to supply the oddest accumulation of petty comforts. And +the history of banking has been the same: the first banks were not +founded for our system of deposit banking, or for anything like it; +they were founded for much more pressing reasons, and having been +founded, they or copies from them were applied to our modern +uses.</p> +<p>[Gives a sketch of banks started as finance companies to make or +float government loans, and to give good coin; and sketches their +function of remitting money.]</p> +<p>These are all uses other than those of deposit banking, which +banks supplied that afterwards became in our English sense deposit +banks: by supplying these uses, they gained the credit that +afterwards enabled them to gain a living as deposit banks; being +trusted for one purpose, they came to be trusted for a purpose +quite different,--ultimately far more important, though at first +less keenly pressing. But these wants only affect a few persons, +and therefore bring the bank under the notice of a few only. The +real introductory function which deposit banks at first perform is +much more popular; and it is only when they can perform this most +popular kind of business that deposit banking ever spreads quickly +and extensively.</p> +<p>This function is the supply of the paper circulation to the +country; and it will be observed that I am not about to overstep my +limits and discuss this as a question of currency. In what form the +best paper currency can be supplied to a country is a question of +economical theory with which I do not meddle here: I am only +narrating unquestionable history, not dealing with an argument +where every step is disputed; and part of this certain history is, +that the best way to diffuse banking in a community is to allow the +banker to issue bank notes of small amount that can supersede the +metal currency. This amounts to a subsidy to each banker to enable +him to keep open a bank till depositors choose to come to +it....</p> +<p>The reason why the use of bank paper commonly precedes the habit +of making deposits in banks is very plain: it is a far easier habit +to establish. In the issue of notes the banker, the person to be +most benefited, can do something,--he can pay away his own +"promises" in loans, in wages, or in payment of debts,--but in the +getting of deposits he is passive; his issues depend on himself, +his deposits on the favor of others. And to the public the change +is far easier too: to collect a great mass of deposits with the +same banker, a great number of persons must agree to do something; +but to establish a note circulation, a large number of persons need +only <i>do nothing</i>,--they receive the banker's notes in the +common course of their business, and they have only <i>not</i> to +take those notes to the banker for payment. If the public refrain +from taking trouble, a paper circulation is immediately in +existence. A paper circulation is begun by the banker, and requires +no effort on the part of the public,--on the contrary, it needs an +effort of the public to be rid of notes once issued; but deposit +banking cannot be begun by the banker, and requires a spontaneous +and consistent effort in the community: and therefore paper issue +is the natural prelude to deposit banking.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>JENS <a name="BAGGESEN"></a>BAGGESEN</h2> +<h3>(1764-1826)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-j.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>ens Baggesen was born in the little Danish town Korsör in +1764, and died in exile in the year 1826. Thus he belonged to two +centuries and to two literary periods. He had reached manhood when +the French Revolution broke out; he witnessed Napoleon's rise, his +victories, and his fall. He was a full contemporary of Goethe, who +survived him only six years; he saw English literature glory in men +like Byron and Moore, and lived to hear of Byron's death in Greece. +In his first works he stood a true representative of the culture +and literature of the eighteenth century, and was hailed as its +exponent by the Danish poet Herman Wessel; towards the end of the +century he was acknowledged to be the greatest of living Danish +poets. Then with the new age came the Norwegian, Henrik Steffens, +with his enthusiastic lectures on German romanticism, calling out +the genius of Oehlenschläger, and the eighteenth century was +doomed; Baggesen nevertheless greeted Oehlenschläger with +sincere admiration, and when the 'Aladdin' of that poet appeared, +Baggesen sent him his rhymed letter 'From Nureddin-Baggesen to +Aladdin-Oehlenschläger.'</p> +<p class="rgt"><img src="images/image290.png" width="40%" alt= +""><br> +<b>JENS BAGGESEN.</b></p> +<p>Baggesen was the son of poor people, and strangers helped him to +his scientific education. When his first works were recognized he +became the friend and protégé of the Duke of +Augustenborg, who provided him with the means for an extended +journey through the Continent, during which he met the greatest men +of his time. The Duke of Augustenborg meanwhile secured him several +positions, which could not hold him for any length of time, nor +keep him at home in Denmark. He went abroad a second time to study +pedagogics, literature, and philosophy, came home again, wandered +forth once more, returned a widower, was for some time director of +the National Theatre in Copenhagen; but found no rest, married +again, and in 1800 went to France to live. Eleven years later he +was professor in Kiel, returning thence to Copenhagen, where +meanwhile his fame had been eclipsed by the genius of +Oehlenschläger. Secure in the knowledge of his powers, +Oehlenschläger had carelessly published two or three dramatic +poems not worthy of his pen, and Baggesen entered on a violent +controversy with him in which he stood practically by himself +against the entire reading public, whose sympathies were with +Oehlenschläger. Alone and misunderstood, restless and unhappy, +he left Denmark in 1820, never to return. Six years later he died, +longing to see his country again, but unable to reach it.</p> +<p>His first poetry was published in 1785, a volume of 'Comic +Tales,' which made its mark at once. The following year appeared in +quick succession satires, rhymed epistles, and elegies, which, +adding to his fame, added also to the purposeless ferment and +unrest which had taken possession of him. He considered tragedy his +proper field, yet had allowed himself to appear as humorist and +satirist.</p> +<p>When the great historic events of the time took place, and +over-threw all existing conditions, this inner restlessness drove +him to and fro without purpose or will. One day he was enthusiastic +over Voss's idyls, the next he was carried away by Robespierre's +wildest speeches. One year he adopted Kant's Christian name +Immanuel in transport over his works, the next he called the great +philosopher "an empty nut, and moreover hard to crack." The +romanticism in Denmark as well as in Germany reduced him to a state +of utter confusion; but in spite of this he continued a child of +the old order, which was already doomed. And with all his unrest +and discord he remained nevertheless the champion of "form," "the +poet of the graces," as he has been called.</p> +<p>This gift of form has given him his literary importance. He +built a bridge from the eighteenth to the nineteenth century; and +when the new romantic school overstepped its privileges, it was he +who called it to order. The most conspicuous act of his literary +life was the controversy with Oehlenschläger, and the wittiest +product of his pen is the reckless criticism of +Oehlenschläger's opera 'Ludlam's Cave.' Johann Ludvig Heiberg, +the greatest analytical critic of whom Denmark can boast, remained +Baggesen's ardent admirer; and Heiberg's influential although not +always just criticism of Oehlenschläger as a poet was no doubt +called forth by Baggesen's attack. Some years later Henrik Hertz +made Baggesen his subject. In 1830 appeared 'Letters from Ghosts,' +poetic epistles from Paradise. Nobody knew that Hertz was the +author. It was Baggesen's voice from beyond the grave, Baggesen's +criticism upon the literature of 1830. It was one of the wittiest, +and in versification one of the best, books in Danish +literature.</p> +<p>Baggesen's most important prose work is 'The Labyrinth,' +afterwards called 'The Wanderings of a Poet.' It is a poetic +description of his journeys, unique in its way, rich in impressions +and full of striking remarks, written in a piquant, graceful, and +easy style.</p> +<p>As long as Danish literature remains, Baggesen's name will be +known; though his writings are not now widely read, and are +important chiefly because of their influence on the literary spirit +of his own time. His familiar poem 'There was a time when I was +very little,' during the controversy with Oehlenschläger, was +seized upon by Paul Möller, parodied, and changed into 'There +was a time when Jens was much bigger.' Equally well known is his +'Ode to My Country,' with the familiar lines:--</p> +<blockquote>"Alas, in no place is the thorn as tiny,<br> + Alas, in no place blooms as red a rose,<br> +Alas, in no place is there couch as downy<br> + As where we little children found repose."</blockquote> +<br> +<a name="BAGGESEN_1"></a> +<h3>A COSMOPOLITAN</h3> +<center>From 'The Labyrinth'</center> +<p>Forster, a little nervous, alert, and piquant man, with gravity +written on his forehead, perspicacity in his eye, and love around +his lips, conquered me completely. I spoke to him of everything +except his journeys; but the traveler showed himself full of +unmistakable humanity. He seemed to me the cosmopolitan spirit +personified. It was as if the world were present when I was alone +with him.</p> +<p>We talked about his friend Jacobi, about the late King of +Prussia, about the literature of Germany, and about the present +Pole-high standard of taste. I was much pleased to find in him the +art critic I sought. He said that we must admire everything which +is good and beautiful, whether it originates West, East, South, or +North. The taste of the bee is the true one. Difference in language +and climate, difference of nationality, must not affect my interest +in fair and noble things. The unknown repels the animal, but should +not repel the human creature. Suppose you say that Voltaire is +animal in comparison with Shakespeare or Klopstock, or that they +are animal in comparison with him: it is a blunder to demand pears +of an apple-tree, as it is ridiculous to throw away the apple +because it is not a pear. The entire world of nature teaches us +this aesthetic tolerance, and yet we have as little acquired it as +we have freedom of conscience. We plant white and red roses in the +same bed, but who puts the 'Messiah' and the 'Henriade' on the same +shelf? He only who reads neither the one nor the other. True +religion worships God; true taste worships the beautiful without +regard of person or nation. German? French? Italian? or English? +All the same! But nothing mediocre.</p> +<p>I was flushed with pleasure; I gave him my hand. "That may be +said of other things than poetry!" I said.--"Of all art!" he +answered.--"Of all that is human!" we both concluded.</p> +<p>Deplorable indolence which clothes our mind in the first heavy +cloak ready to hand, so that all the sunbeams of the world cannot +persuade us to throw it off, much less to assume another! The man +who is exclusively a nationalist is a snail forever chained to his +house. Psyche had wings given her for a never-ending, eternal +flight. We may not imprison her, be the cage ever so large.</p> +<p>He considered that Lessing had wronged the great representative +of the French language; and the remark of Claudius, "Voltaire says +he weeps, and Shakespeare does weep," appeared to him like the +saying, "Much that is new and beautiful has M. Arouet said; but it +is a pity that the beautiful is not new and the new not +beautiful,"--more witty than true. The English think that +Shakespeare, as the Germans think that Lessing, really weeps; the +French think the same of Voltaire. But the first weeps for the +whole world, it is said, the last only for his own people. What the +French call "Le Nord" is, to be sure, rather a large territory, but +not the entire world! France calls "whimpering" in one case and +"blubbering" in another what we call weeping. The general mistake +is that we do not understand the nature of the people and the +language, in which and for whom the weeping is done.</p> +<p>We must be English when we read Shakespeare, German when we read +Klopstock, French when we read Voltaire. The man whose soul cannot +shed its national costume and don that of other nations ought not +to read, much less to judge, their masterpieces. He will be looking +at the moon by day and at the sun by night, and see the first +without lustre and the last not at all.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAGGESEN_2"></a> +<h3>PHILOSOPHY ON THE HEATH</h3> +<center>From 'The Labyrinth'</center> +<p>Caillard was a man of experience, taste, and knowledge. He told +me the story of his life from beginning to end, he confided to me +his principles and his affairs, and I took him to be the happiest +man in the world. "I have everything," he said, "all that I have +wished for or can wish for: health, riches, domestic peace (being +unmarried), a tolerably good conscience, books--and as much sense +as I need to enjoy them. I experience only one single want, lack +only one single pleasure in this world; but that one is enough to +embitter my life and class me with other unfortunates."</p> +<p>I could not guess what might yet be wanting to such a man under +such conditions, "It cannot be liberty," I said, "for how can a +rich merchant in a free town lack this?"</p> +<p>"No! Heaven save me--I neither would nor could live one single +day without liberty."</p> +<p>"You do not happen to be in love with some cruel or unhappy +princess?"</p> +<p>"That is still less the case."</p> +<p>"Ah!--now I have it, no doubt--your soul is consumed with a +thirst for truth, for a satisfactory answer to the many questions +which are but philosophic riddles. You are seeking what so many +brave men from Anaxagoras to Spinoza have sought in vain--the +corner-stone of philosophy, the foundation of the structure of our +ideas."</p> +<p>He assured me that in this respect he was quite at ease. "Then, +in spite of your good health, you must be subject to that miserable +thing, a cold in the head?" I said.</p> +<center>"Uno minor--Jove, dives<br> +Liber, honoratus, pulcher rex denique regum,<br> +Praecipue sanus--nisi cum pituita molesta est."<br> +<br> +--HORACE.</center> +<br> +<p>When he denied this too, I gave up trying to solve the meaning +of his dark words.</p> +<p>O happiness! of all earthly chimeras thou art the most +chimerical! I would rather seek dry figs on the bottom of the sea +and fresh ones on this heath,--I would rather seek liberty, or +truth itself, or the philosopher's stone, than to run after thee, +most deceitful of lights, will-o'-the-wisp of our human life!</p> +<p>I thought that at last I had found a perfectly happy, an +enviable man; and now--behold! though I have not the ten-thousandth +part of his wealth, though I have not the tenth part of his health, +though I may not have a third of his intellect, although I have all +the wants which he has not and the one want under which he suffers, +yet I would not change places with him!</p> +<p>From this moment he was the object of my sincerest pity. But +what did this awful curse prove to be? Listen and tremble!</p> +<p>"Of what use is it all to me?" he said: "coffee, which I love +more than all the wines of this earth and more than all the women +of this earth, coffee which I love madly--coffee is forbidden +me!"</p> +<p>Laugh who lists! Inasmuch as everything in this world, viewed in +a certain light, is tragic, it would be excusable to weep: but +inasmuch as everything viewed in another light is comic, a little +laughter could not be taken amiss; only beware of laughing at the +sigh with which my happy man pronounced these words, for it might +be that in laughing at him you laugh at yourself, your father, your +grandfather, your great-grandfather, your great-great-grandfather, +and so on, including your entire family as far back as Adam.</p> +<p>If, in laughing at such discontent, you laugh in advance at your +son, your son's son's son, and so forth to the last descendant of +your entire family, this is a matter which I do not decide. It will +depend upon the road humanity chooses to take. If it continues as +it is going, some coffee-want or other will forever strew it with +thorns.</p> +<p>Had he said, "Chocolate is forbidden me," or tea, or English +ale, or madeira, or strawberries, you would have found his misery +equally absurd.</p> +<p>The great Alexander is said to have wept because he found no +more worlds to conquer. The man who bemoans the loss of a world and +the man who bemoans the loss of coffee are to my mind equally +unbalanced and equally in need of forgiveness. The desire for a cup +of coffee and the desire for a crown, the hankering after the +flavor or even the fragrance of the drink and the hankering after +fame, are equally mad and equally--human.</p> +<p>If history is to be believed, Adam possessed all the advantages +and comforts, all the necessities and luxuries a first man could +reasonably demand.... Lord of all living things, and sharing his +dominion with his beloved, what did he lack?</p> +<p>Among ten thousand pleasures, the fruit of one single tree was +forbidden him. Good-by content and peace! Good-by forever all his +bliss!</p> +<p>I acknowledge that I should have yielded to the same temptation; +and he who does not see that this fate would have overtaken his +entire family, past and to come, may have studied all things from +the Milky Way in the sky to the milky way in his kitchen, may have +studied all stones, plants, and animals, and all folios and quartos +dealing therewith, but never himself or man.</p> +<p>As we do not know the nature of the fruit which Adam could not +do without, it may as well have been coffee as any other. That it +was pleasant to the eyes means no more than that it was forbidden. +Every forbidden thing is pleasant to the eyes.</p> +<p>"Of what use is it all to me?" said Adam, looking around him in +Eden, at the rising sun, the blushing hills, the light-green +forest, the glorious waterfall, the laden fruit-trees, and, most +beautiful of all, the smiling woman--"of what use is it all to me, +when I dare not taste this--coffee bean?"</p> +<p>"And of what use is it all to me?" said Mr. Caillard, and looked +around him on the Lüneburg heath: "coffee is forbidden me; one +single cup of coffee would kill me."</p> +<p>"If it will be any comfort to you," I said, "I may tell you that +I am in the same case." "And you do not despair at times?"--"No," I +replied, "for it is not my only want. If like you I had everything +else in life, I also might despair."</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAGGESEN_3"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>THERE WAS A TIME WHEN I WAS VERY LITTLE</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">There was a time, when I, an urchin slender,</p> +<p class="i2">Could hardly boast of having any height.</p> +<p class="i1">Oft I recall those days with feelings tender;</p> +<p class="i2">With smiles, and yet the tear-drops dim my sight.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Within my tender mother's arms I sported,</p> +<p class="i2">I played at horse upon my grandsire's knee;</p> +<p class="i1">Sorrow and care and anger, ill-reported,</p> +<p class="i2">As little known as gold or Greek, to me.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">The world was little to my childish thinking,</p> +<p class="i2">And innocent of sin and sinful things;</p> +<p class="i1">I saw the stars above me flashing, winking--</p> +<p class="i2">To fly and catch them, how I longed for wings!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">I saw the moon behind the hills declining,</p> +<p class="i2">And thought, O were I on yon lofty ground,</p> +<p class="i1">I'd learn the truth; for here there's no divining</p> +<p class="i2">How large it is, how beautiful, how round!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">In wonder, too, I saw God's sun pursuing</p> +<p class="i2">His westward course, to ocean's lap of gold;</p> +<p class="i1">And yet at morn the East he was renewing</p> +<p class="i2">With wide-spread, rosy tints, this artist old.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Then turned my thoughts to God the Father +gracious,</p> +<p class="i2">Who fashioned me and that great orb on high,</p> +<p class="i1">And the night's jewels, decking heaven spacious;</p> +<p class="i2">From pole to pole its arch to glorify.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">With childish piety my lips repeated</p> +<p class="i2">The prayer learned at my pious mother's knee:</p> +<p class="i1">Help me remember, Jesus, I entreated,</p> +<p class="i2">That I must grow up good and true to Thee!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">Then for the household did I make petition,</p> +<p class="i2">For kindred, friends, and for the town's folk, +last;</p> +<p class="i1">The unknown King, the outcast, whose condition</p> +<p class="i2">Darkened my childish joy, as he slunk past.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">All lost, all vanished, childhood's days so +eager!</p> +<p class="i2">My peace, my joy with them have fled away;</p> +<p class="i1">I've only memory left: possession meagre;</p> +<p class="i2">Oh, never may that leave me, Lord, I pray.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>PHILIP JAMES <a name="BAILEY"></a>BAILEY</h2> +<h3>(1816-)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-i.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>n Bailey we have a striking instance of the man whose reputation +is made suddenly by a single work, which obtains an amazing +popularity, and which is presently almost forgotten except as a +name. When in 1839 the long poem 'Festus' appeared, its author was +an unknown youth, who had hardly reached his majority. Within a few +months he was a celebrity. That so dignified and suggestive a +performance should have come from so young a poet was considered a +marvel of precocity by the literary world, both English and +American.</p> +<p>The author of 'Festus' was born at Basford, Nottinghamshire, +England, April 22nd, 1816. Educated at the public schools of +Nottingham, and at Glasgow University, he studied law, and at +nineteen entered Lincoln's Inn. In 1840 he was admitted to the bar. +But his vocation in life appears to have been metaphysical and +spiritual rather than legal.</p> +<p>His 'Festus: a Poem,' containing fifty-five episodes or +successive scenes,--some thirty-five thousand lines,--was begun in +his twentieth year. Three years later it was in the hands of the +English reading public. Like Goethe's 'Faust' in pursuing the +course of a human soul through influences emanating from the +Supreme Good and the Supreme Evil; in having Heaven and the World +as its scene; in its inclusion of God and the Devil, the Archangels +and Angels, the Powers of Perdition, and withal many earthly types +in its action,--it is by no means a mere imitation of the great +German. Its plan is wider. It incorporates even more impressive +spiritual material than 'Faust' offers. Not only is its mortal +hero, Festus, conducted through an amazing pilgrimage, spiritual +and redeemed by divine Love, but we have in the poem a conception +of close association with Christianity, profound ethical +suggestions, a flood of theology and philosophy, metaphysics and +science, picturing Good and Evil, love and hate, peace and war, the +past, the present, and the future, earth, heaven, and hell, heights +and depths, dominions, principalities, and powers, God and man, the +whole of being and of not-being,--all in an effort to unmask the +last and greatest secrets of Infinity. And more than all this, +'Festus' strives to portray the sufficiency of Divine Love and of +the Divine Atonement to dissipate, even to annihilate, Evil. For +even Lucifer and the hosts of darkness are restored to purity and +to peace among the Sons of God, the Children of Light! The Love of +God is set forth as limitless. We have before us the birth of +matter at the Almighty's fiat; and we close the work with the +salvation and ecstasy--described as decreed from the Beginning--of +whatever creature hath been given a spiritual existence, and made a +spiritual subject and agency. There is in the doctrine of 'Festus' +no such thing as the "Son of Perdition" who shall be an ultimate +castaway.</p> +<p>Few English poems have attracted more general notice from all +intelligent classes of readers than did 'Festus' on its advent. +Orthodoxy was not a little aghast at its theologic suggestions. +Criticism of it as a literary production was hampered not a little +by religious sensitiveness. The London Literary Gazette said of +it:--"It is an extraordinary production, out-Heroding Kant in some +of its philosophy, and out-Goetheing Goethe in the introduction of +the Three Persons of the Trinity as interlocutors in its wild plot. +Most objectionable as it is on this account, it yet contains so +many exquisite passages of genuine poetry, that our admiration of +the author's genius overpowers the feeling of mortification at its +being misapplied, and meddling with such dangerous topics." The +advance of liberal ideas within the churches has diminished such +criticism, but the work is still a stumbling-block to the less +speculative of sectaries.</p> +<p>The poem is far too long, and its scope too vast for even a +genius of much higher and riper gifts than Bailey's. It is turgid, +untechnical in verse, wordy, and involved. Had Bailey written at +fifty instead of at twenty, it might have shown a necessary balance +and felicity of style. But, with all these shortcomings, it is not +to be relegated to the library of things not worth the time to +know, to the list of bulky poetic failures. Its author blossomed +and fruited marvelously early; so early and with such unlooked-for +fruit that the unthinking world, which first received him with +exaggerated honor, presently assailed him with undue dispraise. +'Festus' is not mere solemn and verbose commonplace. Here and there +it has passages of great force and even of high beauty. The +author's whole heart and brain were poured into it, and neither was +a common one. With all its ill-based daring and manifest crudities, +it was such a <i>tour de force</i> for a lad of twenty as the world +seldom sees. Its sluggish current bears along remarkable knowledge, +great reflection, and the imagination of a fertile as well as a +precocious brain. It is a stream which carries with it things new +and old, and serves to stir the mind of the onlooker with unwonted +thoughts. Were it but one fourth as long, it would still remain a +favorite poem. Even now it has passed through numerous editions, +and been but lately republished in sumptuous form after fifty years +of life; and in the catalogue of higher metaphysico-religious +poetry it will long maintain an honorable place. It is cited here +among the books whose fame rather than whose importance +<i>demand</i> recognition.</p> +<a name="BAILEY_1"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>FROM 'FESTUS'</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7"><b>LIFE</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>-- Men's callings +all</p> +<p>Are mean and vain; their wishes more so: oft</p> +<p>The man is bettered by his part or place.</p> +<p>How slight a chance may raise or sink a soul!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Lucifer</i>--What men call accident is God's own part.</p> +<p>He lets ye work your will--it is his own:</p> +<p>But that ye mean not, know not, do not, he doth.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>--What is life worth without a heart to feel</p> +<p>The great and lovely harmonies which time</p> +<p>And nature change responsive, all writ out</p> +<p>By preconcertive hand which swells the strain</p> +<p>To divine fulness; feel the poetry,</p> +<p>The soothing rhythm of life's fore-ordered lay;</p> +<p>The sacredness of things?--for all things are</p> +<p>Sacred so far,--the worst of them, as seen</p> +<p>By the eye of God, they in the aspect bide</p> +<p>Of holiness: nor shall outlaw sin be slain,</p> +<p>Though rebel banned, within the sceptre's length;</p> +<p>But privileged even for service. Oh! to stand</p> +<p>Soul-raptured, on some lofty mountain-thought,</p> +<p>And feel the spirit expand into a view</p> +<p>Millennial, life-exalting, of a day</p> +<p>When earth shall have all leisure for high ends</p> +<p>Of social culture; ends a liberal law</p> +<p>And common peace of nations, blent with charge</p> +<p>Divine, shall win for man, were joy indeed:</p> +<p>Nor greatly less, to know what might be now,</p> +<p>Worked will for good with power, for one brief hour.</p> +<p>But look at these, these individual souls:</p> +<p>How sadly men show out of joint with man!</p> +<p>There are millions never think a noble thought;</p> +<p>But with brute hate of brightness bay a mind</p> +<p>Which drives the darkness out of them, like hounds.</p> +<p>Throw but a false glare round them, and in shoals</p> +<p>They rush upon perdition: that's the race.</p> +<p>What charm is in this world-scene to such minds?</p> +<p>Blinded by dust? What can they do in heaven,</p> +<p>A state of spiritual means and ends?</p> +<p>Thus must I doubt--perpetually doubt.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Lucifer</i>--Who never doubted never half believed.</p> +<p>Where doubt, there truth is--'tis her shadow. I</p> +<p>Declare unto thee that the past is not.</p> +<p>I have looked over all life, yet never seen</p> +<p>The age that had been. Why then fear or dream</p> +<p>About the future? Nothing but what is, is;</p> +<p>Else God were not the Maker that he seems,</p> +<p>As constant in creating as in being.</p> +<p>Embrace the present. Let the future pass.</p> +<p>Plague not thyself about a future. That</p> +<p>Only which comes direct from God, his spirit,</p> +<p>Is deathless. Nature gravitates without</p> +<p>Effort; and so all mortal natures fall</p> +<p>Deathwards. All aspiration is a toil;</p> +<p>But inspiration cometh from above,</p> +<p>And is no labor. The earth's inborn strength</p> +<p>Could never lift her up to yon stars, whence</p> +<p>She fell; nor human soul, by native worth,</p> +<p>Claim heaven as birthright, more than man may call</p> +<p>Cloudland his home. The soul's inheritance,</p> +<p>Its birth-place, and its death-place, is of earth;</p> +<p>Until God maketh earth and soul anew;</p> +<p>The one like heaven, the other like himself.</p> +<p>So shall the new creation come at once;</p> +<p>Sin, the dead branch upon the tree of life</p> +<p>Shall be cut off forever; and all souls</p> +<p>Concluded in God's boundless amnesty.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>--Thou windest and unwindest faith at will.</p> +<p>What am I to believe?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Lucifer</i>-- Thou mayest believe</p> +<p>But that thou art forced to.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>-- Then I feel, perforce,</p> +<p>That instinct of immortal life in me,</p> +<p>Which prompts me to provide for it.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Lucifer</i>-- Perhaps.</p> +<p><i>Festus</i>--Man hath a knowledge of a time to come--</p> +<p>His most important knowledge: the weight lies</p> +<p>Nearest the short end; and the world depends</p> +<p>Upon what is to be. I would deny</p> +<p>The present, if the future. Oh! there is</p> +<p>A life to come, or all's a dream.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Lucifer</i>--And all</p> +<p>May be a dream. Thou seest in thine, men, deeds,</p> +<p>Clear, moving, full of speech and order; then</p> +<p>Why may not all this world be but a dream</p> +<p>Of God's? Fear not! Some morning God may waken.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>--I would it were. This life's a mystery.</p> +<p>The value of a thought cannot be told;</p> +<p>But it is clearly worth a thousand lives</p> +<p>Like many men's. And yet men love to live</p> +<p>As if mere life were worth their living for.</p> +<p>What but perdition will it be to most?</p> +<p>Life's more than breath and the quick round of blood;</p> +<p>It is a great spirit and a busy heart.</p> +<p>The coward and the small in soul scarce do live.</p> +<p>One generous feeling--one great thought--one deed</p> +<p>Of good, ere night, would make life longer seem</p> +<p>Than if each year might number a thousand days,</p> +<p>Spent as is this by nations of mankind.</p> +<p>We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;</p> +<p>In feelings, not in figures on a dial.</p> +<p>We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives</p> +<p>Who thinks most--feels the noblest--acts the best.</p> +<p>Life's but a means unto an end--that end</p> +<p>Beginning, mean, and end to all things--God.</p> +<p>The dead have all the glory of the world.</p> +<p>Why will we live and not be glorious?</p> +<p>We never can be deathless till we die.</p> +<p>It is the dead win battles. And the breath</p> +<p>Of those who through the world drive like a wedge,</p> +<p>Tearing earth's empires up, nears Death so close</p> +<p>It dims his well-worn scythe. But no! the brave</p> +<p>Die never. Being deathless, they but change</p> +<p>Their country's arms for more--their country's heart.</p> +<p>Give then the dead their due: it is they who saved us.</p> +<p>The rapid and the deep--the fall, the gulph,</p> +<p>Have likenesses in feeling and in life.</p> +<p>And life, so varied, hath more loveliness</p> +<p>In one day than a creeping century</p> +<p>Of sameness. But youth loves and lives on change,</p> +<p>Till the soul sighs for sameness; which at last</p> +<p>Becomes variety, and takes its place.</p> +<p>Yet some will last to die out, thought by thought,</p> +<p>And power by power, and limb of mind by limb,</p> +<p>Like lamps upon a gay device of glass,</p> +<p>Till all of soul that's left be dry and dark;</p> +<p>Till even the burden of some ninety years</p> +<p>Hath crashed into them like a rock; shattered</p> +<p>Their system as if ninety suns had rushed</p> +<p>To ruin earth--or heaven had rained its stars;</p> +<p>Till they become like scrolls, unreadable,</p> +<p>Through dust and mold. Can they be cleaned and read?</p> +<p>Do human spirits wax and wane like moons?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Lucifer</i>--The eye dims, and the heart gets old and +slow;</p> +<p>The lithe limbs stiffen, and the sun-hued locks</p> +<p>Thin themselves off, or whitely wither; still,</p> +<p>Ages not spirit, even in one point,</p> +<p>Immeasurably small; from orb to orb,</p> +<p>Rising in radiance ever like the sun</p> +<p>Shining upon the thousand lands of earth.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILEY_2"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3"><b>THE PASSING-BELL</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Clara--True prophet mayst thou be. But list: that sound</p> +<p>The passing-bell the spirit should solemnize;</p> +<p>For, while on its emancipate path, the soul</p> +<p>Still waves its upward wings, and we still hear</p> +<p>The warning sound, it is known, we well may pray.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>--But pray for whom?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Clara</i>--It means not. Pray for all.</p> +<p>Pray for the good man's soul:</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He is leaving earth for heaven,</p> +<p>And it soothes us to feel that the best</p> +<p>May be forgiven.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>--Pray for the sinful soul:</p> +<p>It fleëth, we know not where;</p> +<p>But wherever it be let us hope;</p> +<p>For God is there.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Clara</i>--Pray for the rich man's soul:</p> +<p>Not all be unjust, nor vain;</p> +<p>The wise he consoled; and he saved</p> +<p>The poor from pain.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>--Pray for the poor man's soul:</p> +<p>The death of this life of ours</p> +<p>He hath shook from his feet; he is one</p> +<p>Of the heavenly powers.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Pray for the old man's soul:</p> +<p>He hath labored long; through life</p> +<p>It was battle or march. He hath ceased,</p> +<p>Serene, from strife.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Clara</i>--Pray for the infant's soul:</p> +<p>With its spirit crown unsoiled,</p> +<p>He hath won, without war, a realm;</p> +<p>Gained all, nor toiled.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>--Pray for the struggling soul:</p> +<p>The mists of the straits of death</p> +<p>Clear off; in some bright star-isle</p> +<p>It anchoreth.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Pray for the soul assured:</p> +<p>Though it wrought in a gloomy mine,</p> +<p>Yet the gems it earned were its own,</p> +<p>That soul's divine.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Clara</i>--Pray for the simple soul:</p> +<p>For it loved, and therein was wise;</p> +<p>Though itself knew not, but with heaven</p> +<p>Confused the skies.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Festus</i>--Pray for the sage's soul:</p> +<p>'Neath his welkin wide of mind</p> +<p>Lay the central thought of God,</p> +<p>Thought undefined.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Pray for the souls of all</p> +<p>To our God, that all may be</p> +<p>With forgiveness crowned, and joy</p> +<p>Eternally.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Clara</i>--Hush! for the bell hath ceased;</p> +<p>And the spirit's fate is sealed;</p> +<p>To the angels known; to man</p> +<p>Best unrevealed.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILEY_3"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>THOUGHTS</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>FESTUS--Well, farewell, Mr. Student. May you never</p> +<p>Regret those hours which make the mind, if they</p> +<p>Unmake the body; for the sooner we</p> +<p>Are fit to be all mind, the better. Blessed</p> +<p>Is he whose heart is the home of the great dead,</p> +<p>And their great thoughts. Who can mistake great thoughts</p> +<p>They seize upon the mind; arrest and search,</p> +<p>And shake it; bow the tall soul as by wind;</p> +<p>Rush over it like a river over reeds,</p> +<p>Which quaver in the current; turn us cold,</p> +<p>And pale, and voiceless; leaving in the brain</p> +<p>A rocking and a ringing; glorious,</p> +<p>But momentary, madness might it last,</p> +<p>And close the soul with heaven as with a seal!</p> +<p>In lieu of all these things whose loss thou mournest,</p> +<p>If earnestly or not I know not, use</p> +<p>The great and good and true which ever live;</p> +<p>And are all common to pure eyes and true.</p> +<p>Upon the summit of each mountain-thought</p> +<p>Worship thou God, with heaven-uplifted head</p> +<p>And arms horizon-stretched; for deity is seen</p> +<p>From every elevation of the soul.</p> +<p>Study the light; attempt the high; seek out</p> +<p>The soul's bright path; and since the soul is fire,</p> +<p>Of heat intelligential, turn it aye</p> +<p>To the all-Fatherly source of light and life;</p> +<p>Piety purifies the soul to see</p> +<p>Visions, perpetually, of grace and power,</p> +<p>Which, to their sight who in ignorant sin abide,</p> +<p>Are now as e'er incognizable. Obey</p> +<p>Thy genius, for a minister it is</p> +<p>Unto the throne of Fate. Draw towards thy soul,</p> +<p>And centralize, the rays which are around</p> +<p>Of the divinity. Keep thy spirit pure</p> +<p>From worldly taint, by the repellent strength</p> +<p>Of virtue. Think on noble thoughts and deeds,</p> +<p>Ever. Count o'er the rosary of truth;</p> +<p>And practice precepts which are proven wise,</p> +<p>It matters not then what thou fearest. Walk</p> +<p>Boldly and wisely in that light thou hast;--</p> +<p>There is a hand above will help thee on.</p> +<p>I am an omnist, and believe in all</p> +<p>Religions; fragments of one golden world</p> +<p>To be relit yet, and take its place in heaven,</p> +<p>Where is the whole, sole truth, in deity.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, his word, his law, writ soulwise here,</p> +<p>Study; its truths love; practice its behests--</p> +<p>They will be with thee when all else have gone.</p> +<p>Mind, body, passion all wear out; not faith</p> +<p>Nor truth. Keep thy heart cool, or rule its heat</p> +<p>To fixed ends; waste it not upon itself.</p> +<p>Not all the agony maybe of the damned</p> +<p>Fused in one pang, vies with that earthquake throb</p> +<p>Which wakens soul from life-waste, to let see</p> +<p>The world rolled by for aye, and we must wait</p> +<p>For our next chance the nigh eternity;</p> +<p>Whether it be in heaven, or elsewhere.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILEY_4"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7"><b>DREAMS</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>FESTUS--The dead of night: earth seems but seeming;</p> +<p class="i4">The soul seems but a something dreaming.</p> +<p class="i4">The bird is dreaming in its nest,</p> +<p class="i4">Of song, and sky, and loved one's breast;</p> +<p class="i4">The lap-dog dreams, as round he lies,</p> +<p class="i4">In moonshine, of his mistress's eyes;</p> +<p class="i4">The steed is dreaming, in his stall,</p> +<p class="i4">Of one long breathless leap and fall;</p> +<p class="i4">The hawk hath dreamed him thrice of wings</p> +<p class="i4">Wide as the skies he may not cleave;</p> +<p class="i4">But waking, feels them clipped, and clings</p> +<p class="i4">Mad to the perch 'twere mad to leave:</p> +<p class="i4">The child is dreaming of its toys;</p> +<p class="i4">The murderer, of calm home joys;</p> +<p class="i4">The weak are dreaming endless fears;</p> +<p class="i4">The proud of how their pride appears;</p> +<p class="i4">The poor enthusiast who dies,</p> +<p class="i4">Of his life-dreams the sacrifice,</p> +<p class="i4">Sees, as enthusiast only can,</p> +<p class="i4">The truth that made him more than man;</p> +<p class="i4">And hears once more, in visioned trance,</p> +<p class="i4">That voice commanding to advance,</p> +<p class="i4">Where wealth is gained--love, wisdom won,</p> +<p class="i4">Or deeds of danger dared and done.</p> +<p class="i4">The mother dreameth of her child;</p> +<p class="i4">The maid of him who hath beguiled;</p> +<p class="i4">The youth of her he loves too well;</p> +<p class="i4">The good of God; the ill of hell;</p> +<p class="i4">Who live of death; of life who die;</p> +<p class="i4">The dead of immortality.</p> +<p class="i4">The earth is dreaming back her youth;</p> +<p class="i4">Hell never dreams, for woe is truth;</p> +<p class="i4">And heaven is dreaming o'er her prime,</p> +<p class="i4">Long ere the morning stars of time;</p> +<p class="i4">And dream of heaven alone can I,</p> +<p class="i4">My lovely one, when thou art nigh.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILEY_5"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4"><b>CHORUS OF THE SAVED</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">From the Conclusion</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Father of goodness,</p> +<p class="i4">Son of love,</p> +<p class="i4">Spirit of comfort,</p> +<p class="i6">Be with us!</p> +<p class="i4">God who hast made us,</p> +<p class="i4">God who hast saved,</p> +<p class="i4">God who hast judged us,</p> +<p class="i6">Thee we praise.</p> +<p class="i4">Heaven our spirits,</p> +<p class="i4">Hallow our hearts;</p> +<p class="i4">Let us have God-light</p> +<p class="i6">Endlessly.</p> +<p class="i4">Ours is the wide world,</p> +<p class="i4">Heaven on heaven;</p> +<p class="i4">What have we done, Lord,</p> +<p class="i6">Worthy this?</p> +<p class="i4">Oh! we have loved thee;</p> +<p class="i6">That alone</p> +<p class="i4">Maketh our glory,</p> +<p class="i6">Duty, meed.</p> +<p class="i4">Oh! we have loved thee!</p> +<p class="i6">Love we will</p> +<p class="i6">Ever, and every</p> +<p class="i6">Soul of us.</p> +<p class="i4">God of the saved,</p> +<p class="i4">God of the tried,</p> +<p class="i4">God of the lost ones,</p> +<p class="i6">Be with all!</p> +<p class="i4">Let us be near thee</p> +<p class="i6">Ever and aye;</p> +<p class="i4">Oh! let us love thee</p> +<p class="i6">Infinite!</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>JOANNA <a name="BAILLIE"></a>BAILLIE</h2> +<h3>(1762-1851)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-j.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>oanna Baillie's early childhood was passed at Bothwell, +Scotland, where she was born in 1762. Of this time she drew a +picture in her well-known birthday lines to her sister:--</p> +<blockquote>"Dear Agnes, gleamed with joy, and dashed with tears, +O'er us have glided almost sixty years Since we on Bothwell's bonny +braes were seen, By those whose eyes long closed in death have +been: Two tiny imps, who scarcely stooped to gather The slender +harebell, or the purple heather; No taller than the foxglove's +spiky stem, That dew of morning studs with silvery gem. Then every +butterfly that crossed our view With joyful shout was greeted as it +flew, And moth and lady-bird and beetle bright In sheeny gold were +each a wondrous sight. Then as we paddled barefoot, side by side, +Among the sunny shallows of the Clyde, Minnows or spotted par with +twinkling fin, Swimming in mazy rings the pool within, A thrill of +gladness through our bosoms sent Seen in the power of early +wonderment."</blockquote> +<p class="rgt"><img src="images/image308.png" width="40%" alt= +""><br> +<b>JOANNA BAILLIE.</b></p> +<p>When Joanna was six her father was appointed to the charge of +the kirk at Hamilton. Her early growth went on, not in books, but +in the fearlessness with which she ran upon the top of walls and +parapets of bridges and in all daring. "Look at Miss Jack," said a +farmer, as she dashed by: "she sits her horse as if it were a bit +of herself." At eleven she could not read well. "'Twas thou," she +said in lines to her sister--</p> +<blockquote>"'Twas thou who woo'dst me first to look<br> +Upon the page of printed book,<br> +That thing by me abhorred, and with address<br> +Didst win me from my thoughtless idleness,<br> +When all too old become with bootless haste<br> +In fitful sports the precious time to waste.<br> +Thy love of tale and story was the stroke<br> +At which my dormant fancy first awoke,<br> +And ghosts and witches in my busy brain<br> +Arose in sombre show, a motley train."</blockquote> +<p>In 1776 Dr. James Baillie was made Professor of Divinity at +Glasgow University. During the two years the family lived in the +college atmosphere, Joanna first read 'Comus,' and, led by the +delight it awakened, the great epic of Milton. It was here that her +vigor and disputatious turn of mind "cast an awe" over her +companions. After her father's death she settled, in 1784, with her +mother and brother and sister in London.</p> +<p>She had made herself familiar with English literature, and above +all she had studied Shakespeare with enthusiasm. Circumscribed now +by the brick and mortar of London streets, in exchange for the fair +views and liberties of her native fruitlands, Joanna found her +first expression in a volume of 'Fugitive Verses,' published in +1790. The book caused so little comment that the words of but one +friendly hand are preserved: that the poems were "truly +unsophisticated representations of nature."</p> +<p>Joanna's walk was along calm and unhurried ways. She could have +had a considerable place in society and the world of "lions" if she +had cared. The wife of her uncle and name-father, the anatomist Dr. +John Hunter, was no other than the famous Mrs. Anne Hunter, a +songwright of genius; her poem 'The Son of Alknomook Shall Never +Complain' is one of the classics of English song, and the best +rendering of the Indian spirit ever condensed into so small a +space. She was also a woman of grace and dignity, a power in London +drawing-rooms, and Haydn set songs of hers to music. But the +reserved Joanna was tempted to no light triumphs. Eight years later +was published her first volume of 'Plays on the Passions.' It +contained 'Basil,' a tragedy on love; 'The Trial,' a comedy on the +same subject; and 'De Montfort,' a tragedy on hatred.</p> +<p>The thought of essaying dramatic composition had burst upon the +author one summer afternoon as she sat sewing with her mother. She +had a high moral purpose in her plan of composition, she said in +her preface,--that purpose being the ultimate utterance of the +drama. Plot and incident she set little value upon, and she +rejected the presentation of the most splendid event if it did not +appertain to the development of the passion. In other words, what +is and was commonly of secondary consideration in the swift passage +of dramatic action became in her hands the stated and paramount +object. Feeling and passion are <i>not</i> precipitated by incident +in her drama as in real life. The play 'De Montfort' was presented +at Drury Lane Theatre in 1800; but in spite of every effort and the +acting of John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, it had a run of but eleven +nights.</p> +<p>In 1802 Miss Baillie published her second volume of 'Plays on +the Passions.' It contained a comedy on hatred; 'Ethwald,' a +tragedy on ambition; and a comedy on ambition. Her adherence to her +old plan brought upon her an attack from Jeffrey in the Edinburgh +Review. He claimed that the complexity of the moral nature of man +made Joanna's theory false and absurd, that a play was too narrow +to show the complete growth of a passion, and that the end of the +drama is the entertainment of the audience. He asserted that she +imitated and plagiarized Shakespeare; while he admitted her insight +into human nature, her grasp of character, and her devotion to her +work.</p> +<p>About the time of the appearance of this volume, Joanna fixed +her residence with her mother and sister, among the lanes and +fields of Hampstead, where they continued throughout their lives. +The first volume of 'Miscellaneous Plays' came out in 1804. In the +preface she stated that her opinions set forth in her first preface +were unchanged. But the plays had a freer construction. "Miss +Baillie," wrote Jeffrey in his review, "cannot possibly write a +tragedy, or an act of a tragedy, without showing genius and +exemplifying a more dramatic conception and expression than any of +her modern competitor" 'Constantine Palaeologus,' which the volume +contained, had the liveliest commendation and popularity, and was +several times put upon the stage with spectacular effect.</p> +<p>In the year of the publication of Joanna's 'Miscellaneous +Plays,' Sir Walter Scott came to London, and seeking an +introduction through a common friend, made the way for a lifelong +friendship between the two, He had just brought out 'The Lay of the +Last Minstrel.' Miss Baillie was already a famous writer, with fast +friends in Lucy Aikin, Mary Berry, Mrs. Siddons, and other workers +in art and literature; but the hearty commendation of her +countryman, which she is said to have come upon unexpectedly when +reading 'Marmion' to a group of friends, she valued beyond other +praise. The legend is that she read through the passage firmly to +the close, and only lost self-control in her sympathy with the +emotion of a friend:--</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">"--The wild harp that silent hung</p> +<p class="i1">By silver Avon's holy shore</p> +<p class="i1">Till twice one hundred years rolled o'er,</p> +<p class="i2">When she the bold enchantress came,</p> +<p class="i1">From the pale willow snatched the treasure,</p> +<p class="i2">With fearless hand and heart in flame,</p> +<p class="i1">And swept it with a kindred measure;</p> +<p class="i1">Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove</p> +<p class="i1">With Montfort's hate and Basil's love,</p> +<p class="i1">Awakening at the inspired strain,</p> +<p class="i1">Deemed their own Shakespeare lived again."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The year 1810 saw 'The Family Legend,' a play founded on a +tragic history of the Campbell clan. Scott wrote a prologue and +brought out the play in the Edinburgh Theatre. "You have only to +imagine," he told the author, "all that you could wish to give +success to a play, and your conceptions will still fall short of +the complete and decided triumph of 'The Family Legend.'"</p> +<p>The attacks which Jeffrey had made upon her verse were continued +when she published, in 1812, her third volume of 'Plays on the +Passions.' His voice, however, did not diminish the admiration for +the character-drawing with which the book was greeted, or for the +lyric outbursts occurring now and then in the dramas.</p> +<p>Joanna's quiet Hampstead life was broken in 1813 by a genial +meeting in London with the ambitious Madame de Staël, and +again with the vivacious little Irishwoman, Maria Edgeworth. She +was keeping her promise of not writing more; but during a visit to +Sir Walter in 1820 her imagination was touched by Scotch tales, and +she published 'Metrical Legends' the following year. In this vast +Abbotsford she finally consented to meet Jeffrey. The plucky little +writer and the unshrinking critic at once became friends, and +thenceforward Jeffrey never went to London without visiting her in +Hampstead.</p> +<p>Her moral courage throughout life recalls the physical courage +which characterized her youth. She never concealed her religious +convictions, and in 1831 she published her ideas in 'A View of the +General Tenor of the New Testament Regarding the Nature and Dignity +of Jesus Christ.' In 1836, having finally given up the long hope of +seeing her plays become popular upon the stage, she prepared a +complete edition of her dramas with the addition of three plays +never before made public,--'Romiero,' a tragedy, 'The Alienated +Manor,' a comedy on jealousy, and 'Henriquez,' a tragedy on +remorse. The Edinburgh Review immediately put forth a eulogistic +notice of the collected edition, and at last admitted that the +reviewer had changed his judgment, and esteemed the author as a +dramatist above Byron and Scott.</p> +<p>"May God support both you and me, and give us comfort and +consolation when it is most wanted," wrote Miss Baillie to Mary +Berry in 1837. "As for myself, I do not wish to be one year younger +than I am; and have no desire, were it possible, to begin life +again, even under the most honorable circumstances. I have great +cause for humble thankfulness, and I am thankful."</p> +<p>In 1840 Jeffrey wrote:--"I have been twice out to Hampstead, and +found Joanna Baillie as fresh, natural, and amiable as ever, and as +little like a tragic muse." And again in 1842:--"She is marvelous +in health and spirit; not a bit deaf, blind, or torpid." About this +time she published her last book, a volume of 'Fugitive +Verses.'</p> +<p>"A sweeter picture of old age was never seen," wrote Harriet +Martineau. "Her figure was small, light, and active; her +countenance, in its expression of serenity, harmonized wonderfully +with her gay conversation and her cheerful voice. Her eyes were +beautiful, dark, bright, and penetrating, with the full innocent +gaze of childhood. Her face was altogether comely, and her dress +did justice to it. She wore her own silvery hair and a mob cap, +with its delicate lace border fitting close around her face. She +was well dressed, in handsome dark silks, and her lace caps and +collars looked always new. No Quaker was ever neater, while she +kept up with the times in her dress as in her habit of mind, as far +as became her years. In her whole appearance there was always +something for even the passing stranger to admire, and never +anything for the most familiar friend to wish otherwise." She died, +"without suffering, in the full possession of her faculties," in +her ninetieth year, 1851.</p> +<p>Her dramatic and poetical works are collected in one volume +(1843). Her Life, with selections from her songs, may be found in +'The Songstress of Scotland,' by Sarah Tytler and J.L. Watson +(1871).</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILLIE_1"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A'</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The bride she is winsome and bonny,</p> +<p class="i1">Her hair it is snooded sae sleek,</p> +<p>And faithfu' and kind is her Johnny,</p> +<p class="i1">Yet fast fa' the tears on her cheek.</p> +<p>New pearlins are cause of her sorrow,</p> +<p class="i1">New pearlins and plenishing too:</p> +<p>The bride that has a' to borrow.</p> +<p class="i1">Has e'en right mickle ado.</p> +<p class="i2">Woo'd and married and a'!</p> +<p class="i2">Woo'd and married and a'!</p> +<p class="i1">Isna she very weel aff</p> +<p class="i2">To be woo'd and married at a'?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Her mither then hastily spak:--</p> +<p class="i1">"The lassie is glaikit wi' pride;</p> +<p>In my pouch I had never a plack</p> +<p class="i1">On the day when I was a bride.</p> +<p>E'en tak' to your wheel and be clever,</p> +<p class="i1">And draw out your thread in the sun;</p> +<p>The gear that is gifted, it never</p> +<p class="i1">Will last like the gear that is won.</p> +<p class="i2">Woo'd and married and a'!</p> +<p class="i2">Wi' havins and tocher sae sma'!</p> +<p class="i1">I think ye are very weel aff</p> +<p class="i2">To be woo'd and married at a'!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Toot, toot!" quo' her gray-headed faither,</p> +<p class="i1">"She's less o' a bride than a bairn;</p> +<p>She's ta'en like a cout frae the heather,</p> +<p class="i1">Wi' sense and discretion to learn.</p> +<p>Half husband, I trow, and half daddy,</p> +<p class="i1">As humor inconstantly leans,</p> +<p>The chiel maun be patient and steady</p> +<p class="i1">That yokes wi' a mate in her teens.</p> +<p class="i2">A kerchief sae douce and sae neat,</p> +<p class="i2">O'er her locks that the wind used to blaw!</p> +<p class="i1">I'm baith like to laugh and to greet</p> +<p class="i2">When I think o' her married at a'."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then out spak' the wily bridegroom,</p> +<p class="i1">Weel waled were his wordies I ween:--</p> +<p>"I'm rich, though my coffer be toom,</p> +<p class="i1">Wi' the blinks o' your bonny blue e'en.</p> +<p>I'm prouder o' thee by my side,</p> +<p class="i1">Though thy ruffles or ribbons be few,</p> +<p>Than if Kate o' the Croft were my bride,</p> +<p class="i1">Wi' purfles and pearlins enow.</p> +<p class="i2">Dear and dearest of ony!</p> +<p class="i2">Ye're woo'd and buiket and a'!</p> +<p class="i1">And do ye think scorn o' your Johnny,</p> +<p class="i2">And grieve to be married at a'?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>She turn'd, and she blush'd, and she smil'd,</p> +<p class="i1">And she looket sae bashfully down;</p> +<p>The pride o' her heart was beguil'd,</p> +<p class="i1">And she played wi' the sleeves o' her gown;</p> +<p>She twirlet the tag o' her lace,</p> +<p class="i1">And she nippet her bodice sae blue,</p> +<p>Syne blinket sae sweet in his face,</p> +<p class="i1">And aff like a maukin she flew.</p> +<p class="i2">Woo'd and married and a'!</p> +<p class="i2">Wi' Johnny to roose her and a'!</p> +<p class="i1">She thinks hersel' very weel aff</p> +<p class="i2">To be woo'd and married at a'!</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILLIE_2"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>IT WAS ON A MORN WHEN WE WERE THRANG</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It was on a morn when we were thrang,</p> +<p class="i2">The kirn it croon'd, the cheese was making,</p> +<p class="i2">And bannocks on the girdle baking,</p> +<p>When ane at the door chapp't loud and lang.</p> +<p>Yet the auld gudewife, and her mays sae tight,</p> +<p class="i2">Of a' this bauld din took sma' notice I ween;</p> +<p>For a chap at the door in braid daylight</p> +<p class="i2">Is no like a chap that's heard at e'en.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But the docksy auld laird of the Warlock glen,</p> +<p class="i2">Wha waited without, half blate, half cheery,</p> +<p class="i2">And langed for a sight o' his winsome deary,</p> +<p>Raised up the latch and cam' crousely ben.</p> +<p>His coat it was new, and his o'erlay was white,</p> +<p class="i2">His mittens and hose were cozie and bien;</p> +<p>But a wooer that comes in braid daylight</p> +<p class="i2">Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He greeted the carline and lasses sae braw,</p> +<p class="i2">And his bare lyart pow sae smoothly he straikit,</p> +<p class="i2">And he looket about, like a body half glaikit,</p> +<p>On bonny sweet Nanny, the youngest of a'.</p> +<p>"Ha, laird!" quo' the carline, "and look ye that way?</p> +<p class="i2">Fye, let na' sie fancies bewilder you clean:</p> +<p>An elderlin man, in the noon o' the day,</p> +<p class="i2">Should be wiser than youngsters that come at +e'en.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Na, na," quo' the pawky auld wife, "I trow</p> +<p class="i2">You'll no fash your head wi' a youthfu' gilly,</p> +<p class="i2">As wild and as skeig as a muirland filly:</p> +<p>Black Madge is far better and fitter for you."</p> +<p>He hem'd and he haw'd, and he drew in his mouth,</p> +<p class="i2">And he squeezed the blue bannet his twa hands +between;</p> +<p>For a wooer that comes when the sun's i' the south</p> +<p class="i2">Is mair landward than wooers that come at e'en.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Black Madge is sae carefu'"--"What's that to me?"</p> +<p class="i2">"She's sober and cydent, has sense in her noodle;</p> +<p class="i2">She's douce and respeckit"--"I carena a bodle:</p> +<p>Love winna be guided, and fancy's free."</p> +<p>Madge toss'd back her head wi' a saucy slight,</p> +<p class="i2">And Nanny, loud laughing, ran out to the green;</p> +<p>For a wooer that comes when the sun shines bright</p> +<p class="i2">Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then away flung the laird, and loud mutter'd he,</p> +<p class="i2">"A' the daughters of Eve, between Orkney and Tweed +O!</p> +<p class="i2">Black or fair, young or auld, dame or damsel or +widow,</p> +<p>May gang in their pride to the de'il for me!"</p> +<p>But the auld gudewife, and her mays sae tight,</p> +<p class="i2">Cared little for a' his stour banning, I ween;</p> +<p>For a wooer that comes in braid daylight</p> +<p class="i2">Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILLIE_3"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2"><b>FY, LET US A' TO THE WEDDING</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">(An Auld Sang, New Buskit)</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Fy, let us a' to the wedding,</p> +<p class="i4">For they will be lilting there;</p> +<p class="i3">For Jock's to be married to Maggy,</p> +<p class="i4">The lass wi' the gowden hair.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And there will be jibing and jeering,</p> +<p class="i4">And glancing of bonny dark een,</p> +<p class="i3">Loud laughing and smooth-gabbit speering</p> +<p class="i4">O' questions baith pawky and keen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And there will be Bessy the beauty,</p> +<p class="i4">Wha raises her cockup sae hie,</p> +<p class="i3">And giggles at preachings and duty,--</p> +<p class="i4">Guid grant that she gang na' ajee!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And there will be auld Geordie Taunner,</p> +<p class="i4">Wha coft a young wife wi' his gowd;</p> +<p class="i3">She'll flaunt wi' a silk gown upon her,</p> +<p class="i4">But wow! he looks dowie and cow'd.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And brown Tibbey Fouler the Heiress</p> +<p class="i4">Will perk at the tap o' the ha',</p> +<p class="i3">Encircled wi' suitors, wha's care is</p> +<p class="i4">To catch up her gloves when they fa',--</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Repeat a' her jokes as they're cleckit,</p> +<p class="i4">And haver and glower in her face,</p> +<p class="i3">When tocherless mays are negleckit,--</p> +<p class="i4">A crying and scandalous case.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And Mysie, wha's clavering aunty</p> +<p class="i4">Wud match her wi' Laurie the Laird,</p> +<p class="i3">And learns the young fule to be vaunty,</p> +<p class="i4">But neither to spin nor to caird.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And Andrew, wha's granny is yearning</p> +<p class="i4">To see him a clerical blade,</p> +<p class="i3">Was sent to the college for learning,</p> +<p class="i4">And cam' back a coof as he gaed.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And there will be auld Widow Martin,</p> +<p class="i4">That ca's hersel thritty and twa!</p> +<p class="i3">And thraw-gabbit Madge, wha for certain</p> +<p class="i4">Was jilted by Hab o' the Shaw.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And Elspy the sewster sae genty,</p> +<p class="i4">A pattern of havens and sense.</p> +<p class="i3">Will straik on her mittens sae dainty,</p> +<p class="i4">And crack wi' Mess John i' the spence.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And Angus, the seer o' ferlies,</p> +<p class="i4">That sits on the stane at his door,</p> +<p class="i3">And tells about bogles, and mair lies</p> +<p class="i4">Than tongue ever utter'd before.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And there will be Bauldy the boaster</p> +<p class="i4">Sae ready wi' hands and wi' tongue;</p> +<p class="i3">Proud Paty and silly Sam Foster,</p> +<p class="i4">Wha quarrel wi' auld and wi' young:</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And Hugh the town-writer, I'm thinking,</p> +<p class="i4">That trades in his lawerly skill,</p> +<p class="i3">Will egg on the fighting and drinking</p> +<p class="i4">To bring after-grist to his mill;</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And Maggy--na, na! we'll be civil,</p> +<p class="i4">And let the wee bridie a-be;</p> +<p class="i3">A vilipend tongue is the devil,</p> +<p class="i4">And ne'er was encouraged by me.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Then fy, let us a' to the wedding,</p> +<p class="i4">For they will be lilting there</p> +<p class="i3">Frae mony a far-distant ha'ding,</p> +<p class="i4">The fun and the feasting to share.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">For they will get sheep's head, and haggis,</p> +<p class="i4">And browst o' the barley-mow;</p> +<p class="i3">E'en he that comes latest, and lag is,</p> +<p class="i4">May feast upon dainties enow.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Veal florentines in the o'en baken,</p> +<p class="i4">Weel plenish'd wi' raisins and fat;</p> +<p class="i3">Beef, mutton, and chuckies, a' taken</p> +<p class="i4">Het reeking frae spit and frae pat:</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And glasses (I trow 'tis na' said ill),</p> +<p class="i4">To drink the young couple good luck,</p> +<p class="i3">Weel fill'd wi' a braw beechen ladle</p> +<p class="i4">Frae punch-bowl as big as Dumbuck.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">And then will come dancing and daffing,</p> +<p class="i4">And reelin' and crossin' o' hans,</p> +<p class="i3">Till even auld Lucky is laughing,</p> +<p class="i4">As back by the aumry she stans.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Sic bobbing and flinging and whirling,</p> +<p class="i4">While fiddlers are making their din;</p> +<p class="i3">And pipers are droning and skirling</p> +<p class="i4">As loud as the roar o' the lin.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">Then fy, let us a' to the wedding,</p> +<p class="i4">For they will be lilting there,</p> +<p class="i3">For Jock's to be married to Maggy,</p> +<p class="i4">The lass wi' the gowden hair.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILLIE_4"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4"><b>THE WEARY PUND O' TOW</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">A young gudewife is in my house</p> +<p class="i5">And thrifty means to be,</p> +<p class="i4">But aye she's runnin' to the town</p> +<p class="i4">Some ferlie there to see.</p> +<p>The weary pund, the weary pund, the weary pund o' tow,</p> +<p>I soothly think, ere it be spun, I'll wear a lyart pow.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And when she sets her to her wheel</p> +<p class="i5">To draw her threads wi' care,</p> +<p class="i4">In comes the chapman wi' his gear,</p> +<p class="i5">And she can spin nae mair.</p> +<p class="i9">The weary pund, etc.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And she, like ony merry may,</p> +<p class="i5">At fairs maun still be seen,</p> +<p class="i4">At kirkyard preachings near the tent,</p> +<p class="i5">At dances on the green.</p> +<p class="i9">The weary pund, etc.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Her dainty ear a fiddle charms,</p> +<p class="i5">A bagpipe's her delight,</p> +<p class="i4">But for the crooning o' her wheel</p> +<p class="i5">She disna care a mite.</p> +<p class="i9">The weary pund, etc.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">You spake, my Kate, of snaw-white webs,</p> +<p class="i5">Made o' your linkum twine,</p> +<p class="i4">But, ah! I fear our bonny burn</p> +<p class="i5">Will ne'er lave web o' thine.</p> +<p class="i9">The weary pund, etc.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Nay, smile again, my winsome mate;</p> +<p class="i5">Sic jeering means nae ill;</p> +<p class="i4">Should I gae sarkless to my grave,</p> +<p class="i5">I'll lo'e and bless thee still.</p> +<p class="i9">The weary pund, etc.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILLIE_5"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>FROM 'DE MONTFORT': A TRAGEDY</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>ACT V--SCENE III</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Moonlight. A wild path in a wood, shaded with trees. +Enter</i> De Montfort<i>, with a strong expression of disquiet, +mixed with fear, upon his face, looking behind him, and bending his +ear to the ground, as if he listened to something.</i></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">De Montfort--How hollow groans the earth beneath my +tread:</p> +<p class="i5">Is there an echo here? Methinks it sounds</p> +<p class="i5">As though some heavy footsteps followed me.</p> +<p class="i5">I will advance no farther.</p> +<p class="i5">Deep settled shadows rest across the path,</p> +<p class="i5">And thickly-tangled boughs o'erhang this spot.</p> +<p class="i5">O that a tenfold gloom did cover it,</p> +<p class="i5">That 'mid the murky darkness I might strike!</p> +<p class="i5">As in the wild confusion of a dream,</p> +<p class="i5">Things horrid, bloody, terrible do pass,</p> +<p class="i5">As though they passed not; nor impress the mind</p> +<p class="i5">With the fixed clearness of reality.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">[<i>An owl is heard screaming near him.</i>]</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">[<i>Starting.</i>] What sound is that?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">[<i>Listens, and the owl cries again.</i>]</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">It is the screech-owl's cry.</p> +<p class="i5">Foul bird of night! What spirit guides thee here?</p> +<p class="i5">Art thou instinctive drawn to scenes of horror?</p> +<p class="i5">I've heard of this.</p> +<p class="i9">[<i>Pauses and listens.</i>]</p> +<p class="i5">How those fallen leaves so rustle on the path,</p> +<p class="i5">With whispering noise, as though the earth around +me</p> +<p class="i5">Did utter secret things.</p> +<p class="i5">The distant river, too, bears to mine ear</p> +<p class="i5">A dismal wailing. O mysterious night!</p> +<p class="i5">Thou art not silent; many tongues hast thou.</p> +<p class="i5">A distant gathering blast sounds through the +wood,</p> +<p class="i5">And dark clouds fleetly hasten o'er the sky;</p> +<p class="i5">Oh that a storm would rise, a raging storm;</p> +<p class="i5">Amidst the roar of warring elements</p> +<p class="i5">I'd lift my hand and strike! but this pale light,</p> +<p class="i5">The calm distinctness of each stilly thing,</p> +<p class="i5">Is terrible.--[<i>Starting.</i>] Footsteps, and near +me, too!</p> +<p class="i5">He comes! he comes! I'll watch him farther on--</p> +<p class="i5">I cannot do it here.</p> +<p class="i9">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1"><i>Enter</i> Rezenvelt, <i>and continues his way +slowly from the bottom of the stage; as he advances to the front, +the owl screams, he stops and listens, and the owl screams +again.</i></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1"><i>Rezenvelt</i>--Ha! does the night-bird greet me on +my way?</p> +<p class="i5">How much his hooting is in harmony</p> +<p class="i5">With such a scene as this! I like it well.</p> +<p class="i5">Oft when a boy, at the still twilight hour,</p> +<p class="i5">I've leant my back against some knotted oak,</p> +<p class="i5">And loudly mimicked him, till to my call</p> +<p class="i5">He answer would return, and through the gloom</p> +<p class="i5">We friendly converse held.</p> +<p class="i5">Between me and the star-bespangled sky,</p> +<p class="i5">Those aged oaks their crossing branches wave,</p> +<p class="i5">And through them looks the pale and placid moon.</p> +<p class="i5">How like a crocodile, or winged snake,</p> +<p class="i5">Yon sailing cloud bears on its dusky length!</p> +<p class="i5">And now transformed by the passing wind,</p> +<p class="i5">Methinks it seems a flying Pegasus.</p> +<p class="i5">Ay, but a shapeless band of blacker hue</p> +<p class="i5">Comes swiftly after.--</p> +<p class="i5">A hollow murm'ring wind sounds through the trees;</p> +<p class="i5">I hear it from afar; this bodes a storm.</p> +<p class="i5">I must not linger here--</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">[<i>A bell heard at some distance.</i>] The convent +bell.</p> +<p class="i5">'Tis distant still: it tells their hour of +prayer.</p> +<p class="i5">It sends a solemn sound upon the breeze,</p> +<p class="i5">That, to a fearful, superstitious mind,</p> +<p class="i5">In such a scene, would like a death-knell come.</p> +<p class="i9">[<i>Exit.</i>]</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILLIE_6"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6"><b>TO MRS. SIDDONS</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">Gifted of heaven! who hast, in days gone by,</p> +<p class="i5">Moved every heart, delighted every eye;</p> +<p class="i5">While age and youth, of high and low degree,</p> +<p class="i5">In sympathy were joined, beholding thee,</p> +<p class="i5">As in the Drama's ever-changing scene</p> +<p class="i5">Thou heldst thy splendid state, our tragic queen!</p> +<p class="i5">No barriers there thy fair domains confined,</p> +<p class="i5">Thy sovereign sway was o'er the human mind;</p> +<p class="i5">And in the triumph of that witching hour,</p> +<p class="i5">Thy lofty bearing well became thy power.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">The impassioned changes of thy beauteous face,</p> +<p class="i5">Thy stately form, and high imperial grace;</p> +<p class="i5">Thine arms impetuous tossed, thy robe's wide +flow,</p> +<p class="i5">And the dark tempest gathered on thy brow;</p> +<p class="i5">What time thy flashing eye and lip of scorn</p> +<p class="i5">Down to the dust thy mimic foes have borne;</p> +<p class="i5">Remorseful musings, sunk to deep dejection,</p> +<p class="i5">The fixed and yearning looks of strong affection;</p> +<p class="i5">The active turmoil a wrought bosom rending,</p> +<p class="i5">When pity, love, and honor, are contending;--</p> +<p class="i5">They who beheld all this, right well, I ween,</p> +<p class="i5">A lovely, grand, and wondrous sight have seen.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">Thy varied accents, rapid, fitful, slow,</p> +<p class="i5">Loud rage, and fear's snatched whisper, quick and +low;</p> +<p class="i5">The burst of stifled love, the wail of grief,</p> +<p class="i5">And tones of high command, full, solemn, brief;</p> +<p class="i5">The change of voice, and emphasis that threw</p> +<p class="i5">Light on obscurity, and brought to view</p> +<p class="i5">Distinctions nice, when grave or comic mood,</p> +<p class="i5">Or mingled humors, terse and new, elude</p> +<p class="i5">Common perception, as earth's smallest things</p> +<p class="i5">To size and form the vesting hoar-frost brings,</p> +<p class="i5">That seemed as if some secret voice, to clear</p> +<p class="i5">The raveled meaning, whispered in thine ear,</p> +<p class="i5">And thou hadst e'en with him communion kept,</p> +<p class="i5">Who hath so long in Stratford's chancel slept;</p> +<p class="i5">Whose lines, where nature's brightest traces +shine,</p> +<p class="i5">Alone were worthy deemed of powers like thine;--</p> +<p class="i5">They who have heard all this, have proved full +well</p> +<p class="i5">Of soul-exciting sound the mightiest spell.</p> +<p class="i5">But though time's lengthened shadows o'er thee +glide,</p> +<p class="i5">And pomp of regal state is cast aside,</p> +<p class="i5">Think not the glory of thy course is spent,</p> +<p class="i5">There's moonlight radiance to thy evening lent,</p> +<p class="i5">That to the mental world can never fade,</p> +<p class="i5">Till all who saw thee, in the grave are laid.</p> +<p class="i5">Thy graceful form still moves in nightly dreams,</p> +<p class="i5">And what thou wast, to the lulled sleeper seems;</p> +<p class="i5">While feverish fancy oft doth fondly trace</p> +<p class="i5">Within her curtained couch thy wondrous face.</p> +<p class="i5">Yea; and to many a wight, bereft and lone,</p> +<p class="i5">In musing hours, though all to thee unknown,</p> +<p class="i5">Soothing his earthly course of good and ill,</p> +<p class="i5">With all thy potent charm, thou actest still.</p> +<p class="i5">And now in crowded room or rich saloon,</p> +<p class="i5">Thy stately presence recognized, how soon</p> +<p class="i5">On thee the glance of many an eye is cast,</p> +<p class="i5">In grateful memory of pleasures past!</p> +<p class="i5">Pleased to behold thee, with becoming grace,</p> +<p class="i5">Take, as befits thee well, an honored place;</p> +<p class="i5">Where blest by many a heart, long mayst thou +stand,</p> +<p class="i5">Among the virtuous matrons of our land!</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILLIE_7"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8"><b>A SCOTCH SONG</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">The gowan glitters on the sward,</p> +<p class="i7">The lavrock's in the sky,</p> +<p class="i6">And collie on my plaid keeps ward,</p> +<p class="i7">And time is passing by.</p> +<p class="i8">Oh no! sad and slow</p> +<p class="i9">And lengthened on the ground,</p> +<p class="i8">The shadow of our trysting bush</p> +<p class="i9">It wears so slowly round!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">My sheep-bell tinkles frae the west,</p> +<p class="i7">My lambs are bleating near,</p> +<p class="i6">But still the sound that I lo'e best,</p> +<p class="i7">Alack! I canna' hear.</p> +<p class="i8">Oh no! sad and slow,</p> +<p class="i9">The shadow lingers still,</p> +<p class="i8">And like a lanely ghaist I stand</p> +<p class="i9">And croon upon the hill.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">I hear below the water roar,</p> +<p class="i7">The mill wi' clacking din,</p> +<p class="i6">And Lucky scolding frae her door,</p> +<p class="i7">To ca' the bairnies in.</p> +<p class="i8">Oh no! sad and slow,</p> +<p class="i9">These are na' sounds for me,</p> +<p class="i8">The shadow of our trysting bush,</p> +<p class="i9">It creeps so drearily!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">I coft yestreen, frae Chapman Tarn,</p> +<p class="i7">A snood of bonny blue,</p> +<p class="i6">And promised when our trysting cam',</p> +<p class="i7">To tie it round her brow.</p> +<p class="i8">Oh no! sad and slow,</p> +<p class="i9">The mark it winna' pass;</p> +<p class="i8">The shadow of that weary thorn</p> +<p class="i9">Is tethered on the grass.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Oh, now I see her on the way,</p> +<p class="i7">She's past the witch's knowe,</p> +<p class="i6">She's climbing up the Browny's brae,</p> +<p class="i7">My heart is in a lowe!</p> +<p class="i8">Oh no! 'tis no' so,</p> +<p class="i9">'Tis glam'rie I have seen;</p> +<p class="i8">The shadow of that hawthorn bush</p> +<p class="i9">Will move na' mair till e'en.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">My book o' grace I'll try to read,</p> +<p class="i7">Though conn'd wi' little skill,</p> +<p class="i6">When collie barks I'll raise my head,</p> +<p class="i7">And find her on the hill.</p> +<p class="i8">Oh no! sad and slow,</p> +<p class="i9">The time will ne'er be gane,</p> +<p class="i8">The shadow of the trysting bush</p> +<p class="i9">Is fixed like ony stane.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILLIE_8"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>SONG, 'POVERTY PARTS GOOD COMPANY'</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9">For an old Scotch Air</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">When my o'erlay was white as the foam o' the lin,</p> +<p class="i5">And siller was chinkin my pouches within,</p> +<p class="i5">When my lambkins were bleatin on meadow and brae,</p> +<p class="i5">As I went to my love in new cleeding sae gay,</p> +<p class="i6">Kind was she, and my friends were free,</p> +<p class="i6">But poverty parts good company.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">How swift passed the minutes and hours of +delight,</p> +<p class="i5">When piper played cheerly, and crusie burned +bright,</p> +<p class="i5">And linked in my hand was the maiden sae dear,</p> +<p class="i5">As she footed the floor in her holyday gear!</p> +<p class="i6">Woe is me; and can it then be,</p> +<p class="i6">That poverty parts sic company?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">We met at the fair, and we met at the kirk,</p> +<p class="i5">We met i' the sunshine, we met i' the mirk;</p> +<p class="i5">And the sound o' her voice, and the blinks o' her +een,</p> +<p class="i5">The cheerin and life of my bosom hae been.</p> +<p class="i6">Leaves frae the tree at Martinmass flee,</p> +<p class="i6">And poverty parts sweet company.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">At bridal and infare I braced me wi' pride,</p> +<p class="i5">The broose I hae won, and a kiss o' the bride;</p> +<p class="i5">And loud was the laughter good fellows among,</p> +<p class="i5">As I uttered my banter or chorused my song;</p> +<p class="i6">Dowie and dree are jestin and glee,</p> +<p class="i6">When poverty spoils good company.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">Wherever I gaed, kindly lasses looked sweet,</p> +<p class="i5">And mithers and aunties were unco discreet;</p> +<p class="i5">While kebbuck and bicker were set on the board:</p> +<p class="i5">But now they pass by me, and never a word!</p> +<p class="i6">Sae let it be, for the worldly and slee</p> +<p class="i6">Wi' poverty keep nae company.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">But the hope of my love is a cure for its smart,</p> +<p class="i5">And the spae-wife has tauld me to keep up my +heart;</p> +<p class="i5">For, wi' my last saxpence, her loof I hae crost,</p> +<p class="i5">And the bliss that is fated can never be lost,</p> +<p class="i6">Though cruelly we may ilka day see</p> +<p class="i6">How poverty parts dear company.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BAILLIE_9"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i9"><b>THE KITTEN</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">Wanton droll, whose harmless play</p> +<p class="i5">Beguiles the rustic's closing day,</p> +<p class="i5">When, drawn the evening fire about,</p> +<p class="i5">Sit aged crone and thoughtless lout,</p> +<p class="i5">And child upon his three-foot stool,</p> +<p class="i5">Waiting until his supper cool,</p> +<p class="i5">And maid whose cheek outblooms the rose,</p> +<p class="i5">As bright the blazing fagot glows,</p> +<p class="i5">Who, bending to the friendly light,</p> +<p class="i5">Plies her task with busy sleight,</p> +<p class="i5">Come, show thy tricks and sportive graces,</p> +<p class="i5">Thus circled round with merry faces:</p> +<p class="i5">Backward coiled and crouching low,</p> +<p class="i5">With glaring eyeballs watch thy foe,</p> +<p class="i5">The housewife's spindle whirling round,</p> +<p class="i5">Or thread or straw that on the ground</p> +<p class="i5">Its shadow throws, by urchin sly</p> +<p class="i5">Held out to lure thy roving eye;</p> +<p class="i5">Then stealing onward, fiercely spring</p> +<p class="i5">Upon the tempting, faithless thing.</p> +<p class="i5">Now, wheeling round with bootless skill,</p> +<p class="i5">Thy bo-peep tail provokes thee still,</p> +<p class="i5">As still beyond thy curving side</p> +<p class="i5">Its jetty tip is seen to glide;</p> +<p class="i5">Till from thy centre starting far,</p> +<p class="i5">Thou sidelong veer'st with rump in air</p> +<p class="i5">Erected stiff, and gait awry,</p> +<p class="i5">Like madam in her tantrums high;</p> +<p class="i5">Though ne'er a madam of them all,</p> +<p class="i5">Whose silken kirtle sweeps the hall,</p> +<p class="i5">More varied trick and whim displays</p> +<p class="i5">To catch the admiring stranger's gaze.</p> +<p class="i5">Doth power in measured verses dwell,</p> +<p class="i5">All thy vagaries wild to tell?</p> +<p class="i5">Ah, no! the start, the jet, the bound,</p> +<p class="i5">The giddy scamper round and round,</p> +<p class="i5">With leap and toss and high curvet,</p> +<p class="i5">And many a whirling somerset,</p> +<p class="i5">(Permitted by the modern muse</p> +<p class="i5">Expression technical to use)--These</p> +<p class="i5">mock the deftest rhymester's skill,</p> +<p class="i5">But poor in art, though rich in will.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">The featest tumbler, stage bedight,</p> +<p class="i5">To thee is but a clumsy wight,</p> +<p class="i5">Who every limb and sinew strains</p> +<p class="i5">To do what costs thee little pains;</p> +<p class="i5">For which, I trow, the gaping crowd</p> +<p class="i5">Requite him oft with plaudits loud.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">But, stopped the while thy wanton play,</p> +<p class="i5">Applauses too thy pains repay:</p> +<p class="i5">For then, beneath some urchin's hand</p> +<p class="i5">With modest pride thou takest thy stand,</p> +<p class="i5">While many a stroke of kindness glides</p> +<p class="i5">Along thy back and tabby sides.</p> +<p class="i5">Dilated swells thy glossy fur,</p> +<p class="i5">And loudly croons thy busy purr,</p> +<p class="i5">As, timing well the equal sound,</p> +<p class="i5">Thy clutching feet bepat the ground,</p> +<p class="i5">And all their harmless claws disclose</p> +<p class="i5">Like prickles of an early rose,</p> +<p class="i5">While softly from thy whiskered cheek</p> +<p class="i5">Thy half-closed eyes peer, mild and meek.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">But not alone by cottage fire</p> +<p class="i5">Do rustics rude thy feats admire.</p> +<p class="i5">The learned sage, whose thoughts explore</p> +<p class="i5">The widest range of human lore,</p> +<p class="i5">Or with unfettered fancy fly</p> +<p class="i5">Through airy heights of poesy,</p> +<p class="i5">Pausing smiles with altered air</p> +<p class="i5">To see thee climb his elbow-chair,</p> +<p class="i5">Or, struggling on the mat below,</p> +<p class="i5">Hold warfare with his slippered toe.</p> +<p class="i5">The widowed dame or lonely maid,</p> +<p class="i5">Who, in the still but cheerless shade</p> +<p class="i5">Of home unsocial, spends her age,</p> +<p class="i5">And rarely turns a lettered page,</p> +<p class="i5">Upon her hearth for thee lets fall</p> +<p class="i5">The rounded cork or paper ball,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor chides thee on thy wicked watch,</p> +<p class="i5">The ends of raveled skein to catch,</p> +<p class="i5">But lets thee have thy wayward will,</p> +<p class="i5">Perplexing oft her better skill.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">E'en he whose mind, of gloomy bent,</p> +<p class="i5">In lonely tower or prison pent,</p> +<p class="i5">Reviews the coil of former days,</p> +<p class="i5">And loathes the world and all its ways,</p> +<p class="i5">What time the lamp's unsteady gleam</p> +<p class="i5">Hath roused him from his moody dream,</p> +<p class="i5">Feels, as thou gambol'st round his seat,</p> +<p class="i5">His heart of pride less fiercely beat,</p> +<p class="i5">And smiles, a link in thee to find</p> +<p class="i5">That joins it still to living kind.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">Whence hast thou then, thou witless puss!</p> +<p class="i5">The magic power to charm us thus?</p> +<p class="i5">Is it that in thy glaring eye</p> +<p class="i5">And rapid movements we descry--</p> +<p class="i5">Whilst we at ease, secure from ill,</p> +<p class="i5">The chimney corner snugly fill--</p> +<p class="i5">A lion darting on his prey,</p> +<p class="i5">A tiger at his ruthless play?</p> +<p class="i5">Or is it that in thee we trace,</p> +<p class="i5">With all thy varied wanton grace,</p> +<p class="i5">An emblem, viewed with kindred eye</p> +<p class="i5">Of tricky, restless infancy?</p> +<p class="i5">Ah! many a lightly sportive child,</p> +<p class="i5">Who hath like thee our wits beguiled,</p> +<p class="i5">To dull and sober manhood grown,</p> +<p class="i5">With strange recoil our hearts disown.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5">And so, poor kit! must thou endure,</p> +<p class="i5">When thou becom'st a cat demure,</p> +<p class="i5">Full many a cuff and angry word,</p> +<p class="i5">Chased roughly from the tempting board.</p> +<p class="i5">But yet, for that thou hast, I ween,</p> +<p class="i5">So oft our favored playmate been,</p> +<p class="i5">Soft be the change which thou shalt prove!</p> +<p class="i5">When time hath spoiled thee of our love,</p> +<p class="i5">Still be thou deemed by housewife fat</p> +<p class="i5">A comely, careful, mousing cat,</p> +<p class="i5">Whose dish is, for the public good,</p> +<p class="i5">Replenished oft with savory food,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor, when thy span of life is past,</p> +<p class="i5">Be thou to pond or dung-hill cast,</p> +<p class="i5">But, gently borne on goodman's spade,</p> +<p class="i5">Beneath the decent sod be laid;</p> +<p class="i5">And children show with glistening eyes</p> +<p class="i5">The place where poor old pussy lies.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>HENRY MARTYN <a name="BAIRD"></a>BAIRD</h2> +<h3>(1832-)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>hat stirring period of the history of France which in certain of +its features has been made so familiar by Dumas through the 'Three +Musketeers' series and others of his fascinating novels, is that +which has been the theme of Dr. Baird in the substantial work to +which so many years of his life have been devoted. It is to the +elucidation of one portion only of the history of this period that +he has given himself; but although in this, the story of the +Huguenots, nominally only a matter of religious belief was +involved, it in fact embraced almost the entire internal politics +of the nation, and the struggles for supremacy of its ambitious +families, as well as the effort to achieve religious freedom.</p> +<p class="lft"><img src="images/image327.png" width="40%" alt= +""><br> +<b>HENRY M. BAIRD</b></p> +<p>In these separate but related works the incidents of the whole +Protestant movement have been treated. The first of these, 'The +History of the Rise of the Huguenots in France' (1879), carries the +story to the time of Henry of Valois (1574), covering the massacre +of St. Bartholomew; the second, 'The Huguenots and Henry of +Navarre' (1886), covers the Protestant ascendancy and the Edict of +Nantes, and ends with the assassination of Henry in 1610; and the +third, 'The Huguenots and the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes' +(1895), completes the main story, and indeed brings the narrative +down to a date much later than the title seems to imply.</p> +<p>It may be said, perhaps, that Dr. Baird holds a brief for the +plaintiff in the case; but his work does not produce the impression +of being that of a violently prejudiced, although an interested, +writer. He is cool and careful, writing with precision, and +avoiding even the effects which the historian may reasonably feel +himself entitled to produce, and of which the period naturally +offers so many.</p> +<p>Henry Martyn Baird was born in Philadelphia, January 17th, 1832, +and was educated at the University of the City of New York and the +University of Athens, and at Union and Princeton Theological +Seminaries. In 1855 he became a tutor at Princeton; and in the +following year he published an interesting volume on 'Modern +Greece, a Narrative of Residence and Travel.' In 1859 he was +appointed to the chair of Greek Language and Literature in the +University of the City of New York.</p> +<p>In addition to the works heretofore named, he is the author of a +biography of his father, Robert Baird, D.D.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAIRD_1"></a> +<h3>THE BATTLE OF IVRY</h3> +<center>From 'The Huguenots and Henry of Navarre': by Charles +Scribner's Sons.</center> +<p>The battle began with a furious cannonade from the King's +artillery, so prompt that nine rounds of shot had been fired before +the enemy were ready to reply, so well directed that great havoc +was made in the opposing lines. Next, the light horse of M. de +Rosne, upon the extreme right of the Leaguers, made a dash upon +Marshal d'Aumont, but were valiantly received. Their example was +followed by the German reiters, who threw themselves upon the +defenders of the King's artillery and upon the light horse of +Aumont, who came to their relief; then, after their customary +fashion, wheeled around, expecting to pass easily through the gaps +between the friendly corps of Mayenne and Egmont, and to reload +their firearms at their leisure in the rear, by way of preparation +for a second charge.</p> +<p>Owing to the blunder of Tavannes, however, they met a serried +line of horse where they looked for an open field; and the Walloon +cavalry found themselves compelled to set their lances in +threatening position to ward off the dangerous onset of their +retreating allies. Another charge, made by a squadron of the +Walloon lancers themselves, was bravely met by Baron Biron. His +example was imitated by the Duke of Montpensier farther down the +field. Although the one leader was twice wounded, and the other had +his horse killed under him, both ultimately succeeded in repulsing +the enemy.</p> +<p>It was about this time that the main body of Henry's horse +became engaged with the gallant array of cavalry in their front. +Mayenne had placed upon the left of his squadron a body of four +hundred mounted carabineers. These, advancing first, rode rapidly +toward the King's line, took aim, and discharged their weapons with +deadly effect within twenty-five paces. Immediately afterward the +main force of eighteen hundred lancers presented themselves. The +King had fastened a great white plume to his helmet, and had +adorned his horse's head with another, equally conspicuous. +"Comrades!" he now exclaimed to those about him, "Comrades! God is +for us! There are his enemies and ours! If you lose sight of your +standards, rally to my white plume; you will find it on the road to +victory and to honor." The Huguenots had knelt after their fashion; +again Gabriel d'Amours had offered for them a prayer to the God of +battles: but no Joyeuse dreamed of suspecting that they were +meditating surrender or flight. The King, with the brave Huguenot +minister's prediction of victory still ringing in his ears, plunged +into the thickest of the fight, two horses' length ahead of his +companions. That moment he forgot that he was King of France and +general-in-chief, both in one, and fought as if he were a private +soldier. It was indeed a bold venture. True, the enemy, partly +because of the confusion induced by the reiters, partly from the +rapidity of the King's movements, had lost in some measure the +advantage they should have derived from their lances, and were +compelled to rely mainly upon their swords, as against the firearms +of their opponents. Still, they outnumbered the knights of the +King's squadron more than as two to one. No wonder that some of the +latter flinched and actually turned back; especially when the +standard-bearer of the King, receiving a deadly wound in the face, +lost control of his horse, and went riding aimlessly about the +field, still grasping the banner in grim desperation. But the +greater number emulated the courage of their leader. The white +plume kept them in the road to victory and to honor. Yet even this +beacon seemed at one moment to fail them. Another cavalier, who had +ostentatiously decorated his helmet much after the same fashion as +the King, was slain in the hand-to-hand conflict, and some, both of +the Huguenots and of their enemies, for a time supposed the great +Protestant champion himself to have fallen.</p> +<p>But although fiercely contested, the conflict was not long. The +troopers of Mayenne wavered, and finally fled. Henry of Navarre +emerged from the confusion, to the great relief of his anxious +followers, safe and sound, covered with dust and blood not his own. +More than once he had been in great personal peril. On his return +from the melée, he halted, with a handful of companions, +under the pear-trees indicated beforehand as a rallying-point, when +he was descried and attacked by three bands of Walloon horse that +had not yet engaged in the fight. Only his own valor and the timely +arrival of some of his troops saved the imprudent monarch from +death or captivity.</p> +<p>The rout of Mayenne's principal corps was quickly followed by +the disintegration of his entire army. The Swiss auxiliaries of the +League, though compelled to surrender their flags, were, as ancient +allies of the crown, admitted to honorable terms of capitulation. +To the French, who fell into the King's hands, he was equally +clement. Indeed, he spared no efforts to save their lives. But it +was otherwise with the German lansquenets. Their treachery at +Arques, where they had pretended to come over to the royal side +only to turn upon those who had believed their protestations and +welcomed them to their ranks, was yet fresh in the memory of all. +They received no mercy at the King's hands.</p> +<p>Gathering his available forces together, and strengthened by the +accession of old Marshal Biron, who had been compelled, much +against his will, to remain a passive spectator while others +fought, Henry pursued the remnants of the army of the League many a +mile to Mantes and the banks of the Seine. If their defeat by a +greatly inferior force had been little to the credit of either the +generals or the troops of the League, their precipitate flight was +still less decorous. The much-vaunted Flemish lancers distinguished +themselves, it was said, by not pausing until they found safety +beyond the borders of France; and Mayenne, never renowned for +courage, emulated or surpassed them in the eagerness he displayed, +on reaching the little town from which the battle took its name, to +put as many leagues as possible between himself and his pursuers. +"The enemy thus ran away," says the Englishman William Lyly, who +was an eye-witness of the battle; "Mayenne to Ivry, where the +Walloons and reiters followed so fast that there standing, hasting +to draw breath, and not able to speak, he was constrained to draw +his sword to strike the flyers to make place for his own +flight."</p> +<p>The battle had been a short one. Between ten and eleven o'clock +the first attack was made; in less than an hour the army of the +League was routed. It had been a glorious action for the King and +his old Huguenots, and not less for the loyal Roman Catholics who +clung to him. None seemed discontented but old Marshal Biron, who, +when he met the King coming out of the fray with battered armor and +blunted sword, could not help contrasting the opportunity his +Majesty had enjoyed to distinguish himself with his own enforced +inactivity, and exclaimed, "Sire, this is not right! You have +to-day done what Biron ought to have done, and he has done what the +King should have done." But even Biron was unable to deny that the +success of the royal arms surpassed all expectation, and deserved +to rank among the wonders of history. The preponderance of the +enemy in numbers had been great. There was no question that the +impetuous attacks of their cavalry upon the left wing of the King +were for a time almost successful. The official accounts might +conveniently be silent upon the point, but the truth could not be +disguised that at the moment Henry plunged into battle a part of +his line was grievously shaken, a part was in full retreat, and the +prospect was dark enough. Some of his immediate followers, indeed, +at this time turned countenance and were disposed to flee, +whereupon he recalled them to their duty with the words, "Look this +way, in order that if you will not fight, at least you may see me +die." But the steady and determined courage of the King, well +seconded by soldiers not less brave, turned the tide of battle. +"The enemy took flight," says the devout Duplessis Mornay, +"terrified rather by God than by men; for it is certain that the +one side was not less shaken than the other." And with the flight +of the cavalry, Mayenne's infantry, constituting, as has been seen, +three-fourths of his entire army, gave up the day as lost, without +striking a blow for the cause they had come to support. How many +men the army of the League lost in killed and wounded it is +difficult to say. The Prince of Parma reported to his master the +loss of two hundred and seventy of the Flemish lancers, together +with their commander, the Count of Egmont. The historian De Thou +estimates the entire number of deaths on the side of the League, +including the combatants that fell in the battle and the fugitives +drowned at the crossing of the river Eure, by Ivry, at eight +hundred. The official account, on the other hand, agrees with +Marshal Biron, in stating that of the cavalry alone more than +fifteen hundred died, and adds that four hundred were taken +prisoners; while Davila swells the total of the slain to the +incredible sum of upward of six thousand men.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>SIR SAMUEL WHITE <a name="BAKER"></a>BAKER</h2> +<h3>(1821-1893)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>he Northwest Passage, the Pole itself, and the sources of the +Nile--how many have struggled through ice and snow, or burned +themselves with tropic heat, in the effort to penetrate these +secrets of the earth! And how many have left their bones to whiten +on the desert or lie hidden beneath icebergs at the end of the +search!</p> +<p class="rgt"><img src="images/image332.png" width="40%" alt= +""><br> +<b>SIR SAMUEL BAKER</b></p> +<p>Of the fortunate ones who escaped after many perils, Baker was +one of the most fortunate. He explored the Blue and the White Nile, +discovered at least one of the reservoirs from which flows the +great river of Egypt, and lived to tell the tale and to receive due +honor, being knighted by the Queen therefor, fêted by learned +societies, and sent subsequently by the Khedive at the head of a +large force with commission to destroy the slave trade. In this he +appears to have been successful for a time, but for a time +only.</p> +<p>Baker was born in London, June 8th, 1821, and died December +30th, 1893. With his brother he established, in 1847, a settlement +in the mountains of Ceylon, where he spent several years. His +experiences in the far East appear in books entitled 'The Rifle and +Hound in Ceylon' and 'Eight Years Wandering in Ceylon.' In 1861, +accompanied by his young wife and an escort, he started up the +Nile, and three years later, on the 14th of March, 1864, at length +reached the cliffs overlooking the Albert Nyanza, being the first +European to behold its waters. Like most Englishmen, he was an +enthusiastic sportsman, and his manner of life afforded him a great +variety of unusual experiences. He visited Cyprus in 1879, after +the execution of the convention between England and Turkey, and +subsequently he traveled to Syria, India, Japan, and America. He +kept voluminous notes of his various journeys, which he utilized in +the preparation of numerous volumes:--'The Albert Nyanza'; 'The +Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia'; 'Ismäilia,' a narrative of the +expedition under the auspices of the Khedive; 'Cyprus as I Saw It +in 1879'; together with 'Wild Beasts and Their Ways,' 'True Tales +for My Grandsons,' and a story entitled 'Cast Up by the Sea,' which +was for many years a great favorite with the boys of England and +America. They are all full of life and incident. One of the most +delightful memories of them which readers retain is the figure of +his lovely wife, so full of courage, loyalty, buoyancy, and charm. +He had that rarest of possibilities, spirit-stirring adventure and +home companionship at once.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAKER_1"></a> +<h3>HUNTING IN ABYSSINIA</h3> +<center>From 'The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia'</center> +<p>On arrival at the camp, I resolved to fire the entire country on +the following day, and to push still farther up the course of the +Settite to the foot of the mountains, and to return to this camp in +about a fortnight, by which time the animals that had been scared +away by the fire would have returned. Accordingly, on the following +morning, accompanied by a few of the aggageers, I started upon the +south bank of the river, and rode for some distance into the +interior, to the ground that was entirely covered with high +withered grass. We were passing through a mass of kittar thorn +bush, almost hidden by the immensely high grass, when, as I was +ahead of the party, I came suddenly upon the tracks of rhinoceros; +these were so unmistakably recent that I felt sure we were not far +from the animals themselves. As I had wished to fire the grass, I +was accompanied by my Tokrooris, and my horse-keeper, Mahomet No. +2. It was difficult ground for the men, and still more unfavorable +for the horses, as large disjointed masses of stone were concealed +in the high grass.</p> +<p>We were just speculating as to the position of the rhinoceros, +and thinking how uncommonly unpleasant it would be should he obtain +our wind, when whiff! whiff! whiff! We heard the sharp whistling +snort, with a tremendous rush through the high grass and thorns +close to us; and at the same moment two of these determined brutes +were upon us in full charge. I never saw such a scrimmage; <i>sauve +qui peut</i>! There was no time for more than one look behind. I +dug the spurs into Aggahr's flanks, and clasping him round the +neck, I ducked my head down to his shoulder, well protected with my +strong hunting cap, and I kept the spurs going as hard as I could +ply them, blindly trusting to Providence and my good horse, over +big rocks, fallen trees, thick kittar thorns, and grass ten feet +high, with the two infernal animals in full chase only a few feet +behind me. I heard their abominable whiffing close to me, but so +did my horse also, and the good old hunter flew over obstacles that +I should have thought impossible, and he dashed straight under the +hooked thorn bushes and doubled like a hare. The aggageers were all +scattered; Mahomet No. 2 was knocked over by a rhinoceros; all the +men were sprawling upon the rocks with their guns, and the party +was entirely discomfited. Having passed the kittar thorn, I turned, +and seeing that the beasts had gone straight on, I brought Aggahr's +head round, and tried to give chase, but it was perfectly +impossible; it was only a wonder that the horse had escaped in +ground so difficult for riding. Although my clothes were of the +strongest and coarsest Arab cotton cloth, which seldom tore, but +simply lost a thread when caught in a thorn, I was nearly naked. My +blouse was reduced to shreds; as I wore sleeves only half way from +the shoulder to the elbow, my naked arms were streaming with blood; +fortunately my hunting cap was secured with a chin strap, and still +more fortunately I had grasped the horse's neck, otherwise I must +have been dragged out of the saddle by the hooked thorns. All the +men were cut and bruised, some having fallen upon their heads among +the rocks, and others had hurt their legs in falling in their +endeavors to escape. Mahomet. No. 2, the horse-keeper, was more +frightened than hurt, as he had been knocked down by the shoulder, +and not by the horn of the rhinoceros, as the animal had not +noticed him: its attention was absorbed by the horse.</p> +<p>I determined to set fire to the whole country immediately, and +descending the hill toward the river to obtain a favorable wind, I +put my men in a line, extending over about a mile along the river's +bed, and they fired the grass in different places. With a loud +roar, the flame leaped high in air and rushed forward with +astonishing velocity; the grass was as inflammable as tinder, and +the strong north wind drove the long line of fire spreading in +every direction through the country.</p> +<p>We now crossed to the other side of the river to avoid the +flames, and we returned toward the camp. On the way I made a long +shot and badly wounded a tétel, but lost it in thick thorns; +shortly after, I stalked a nellut <i>(A. Strepsiceros</i>), and +bagged it with the Fletcher rifle.</p> +<p>We arrived early in camp, and on the following day we moved +sixteen miles farther up stream, and camped under a tamarind-tree +by the side of the river. No European had ever been farther than +our last camp, Delladilla, and that spot had only been visited by +Johann Schmidt and Florian. In the previous year, my aggageers had +sabred some of the Basé at this very camping-place; they +accordingly requested me to keep a vigilant watch during the night, +as they would be very likely to attack us in revenge, unless they +had been scared by the rifles and by the size of our party. They +advised me not to remain long in this spot, as it would be very +dangerous for my wife to be left almost alone during the day, when +we were hunting, and that the Basé would be certain to espy +us from the mountains, and would most probably attack and carry her +off when they were assured of our departure. She was not very +nervous about this, but she immediately called the dragoman, +Mahomet, who knew the use of a gun, and she asked him if he would +stand by her in case they were attacked in my absence; the faithful +servant replied, "Mahomet fight the Basé? No, Missus; +Mahomet not fight; if the Basé come, Missus fight; Mahomet +run away; Mahomet not come all the way from Cairo to get him killed +by black fellers; Mahomet will run--Inshallah!" (Please God.)</p> +<p>This frank avowal of his military tactics was very reassuring. +There was a high hill of basalt, something resembling a pyramid, +within a quarter of a mile of us; I accordingly ordered some of my +men every day to ascend this look-out station, and I resolved to +burn the high grass at once, so as to destroy all cover for the +concealment of an enemy. That evening I very nearly burned our +camp; I had several times ordered the men to clear away the dry +grass for about thirty yards from our resting-place; this they had +neglected to obey. We had been joined a few days before by a party +of about a dozen Hamran Arabs, who were hippopotami hunters; thus +we mustered very strong, and it would have been the work of about +half an hour to have cleared away the grass as I had desired.</p> +<p>The wind was brisk, and blew directly toward our camp, which was +backed by the river. I accordingly took a fire-stick, and I told my +people to look sharp, as they would not clear away the grass. I +walked to the foot of the basalt hill, and fired the grass in +several places. In an instant the wind swept the flame and smoke +toward the camp. All was confusion; the Arabs had piled the +camel-saddles and all their corn and effects in the high grass +about twenty yards from the tent; there was no time to remove all +these things; therefore, unless they could clear away the grass so +as to stop the fire before it should reach the spot, they would be +punished for their laziness by losing their property. The fire +traveled quicker than I had expected, and, by the time I had +hastened to the tent, I found the entire party working frantically; +the Arabs were slashing down the grass with their swords, and +sweeping it away with their shields, while my Tokrooris were +beating it down with long sticks and tearing it from its withered +and fortunately tinder-rotten roots, in desperate haste. The flames +rushed on, and we already felt the heat, as volumes of smoke +enveloped us; I thought it advisable to carry the gunpowder (about +20 lbs.) down to the river, together with the rifles; while my wife +and Mahomet dragged the various articles of luggage to the same +place of safety. The fire now approached within about sixty yards, +and dragging out the iron pins, I let the tent fall to the ground. +The Arabs had swept a line like a high-road perfectly clean, and +they were still tearing away the grass, when they were suddenly +obliged to rush back as the flames arrived.</p> +<p>Almost instantaneously the smoke blew over us, but the fire had +expired upon meeting the cleared ground. I now gave them a little +lecture upon obedience to orders; and from that day, their first +act upon halting for the night was to clear away the grass, lest I +should repeat the entertainment. In countries that are covered with +dry grass, it should be an invariable rule to clear the ground +around the camp before night; hostile natives will frequently fire +the grass to windward of a party, or careless servants may leave +their pipes upon the ground, which fanned by the wind would quickly +create a blaze. That night the mountain afforded a beautiful +appearance as the flames ascended the steep sides, and ran +flickering up the deep gullies with a brilliant light.</p> +<p>We were standing outside the tent admiring the scene, which +perfectly illuminated the neighborhood, when suddenly an apparition +of a lion and lioness stood for an instant before us at about +fifteen yards distance, and then disappeared over the blackened +ground before I had time to snatch a rifle from the tent. No doubt +they had been disturbed from the mountain by the fire, and had +mistaken their way in the country so recently changed from high +grass to black ashes. In this locality I considered it advisable to +keep a vigilant watch during the night, and the Arabs were told off +for that purpose.</p> +<p>A little before sunrise I accompanied the howartis, or +hippopotamus hunters, for a day's sport. There were numbers of +hippos in this part of the river, and we were not long before we +found a herd. The hunters failed in several attempts to harpoon +them, but they succeeded in stalking a crocodile after a most +peculiar fashion. This large beast was lying upon a sandbank on the +opposite margin of the river, close to a bed of rushes.</p> +<p>The howartis, having studied the wind, ascended for about a +quarter of a mile, and then swam across the river, harpoon in hand. +The two men reached the opposite bank, beneath which they +alternately waded or swam down the stream toward the spot upon +which the crocodile was lying. Thus advancing under cover of the +steep bank, or floating with the stream in deep places, and +crawling like crocodiles across the shallows, the two hunters at +length arrived at the bank or rushes, on the other side of which +the monster was basking asleep upon the sand. They were now about +waist-deep, and they kept close to the rushes with their harpoons +raised, ready to cast the moment they should pass the rush bed and +come in view of the crocodile. Thus steadily advancing, they had +just arrived at the corner within about eight yards of the +crocodile, when the creature either saw them, or obtained their +wind; in an instant it rushed to the water; at the same moment, the +two harpoons were launched with great rapidity by the hunters. One +glanced obliquely from the scales; the other stuck fairly in the +tough hide, and the iron, detached from the bamboo, held fast, +while the ambatch float, running on the surface of the water, +marked the course of the reptile beneath.</p> +<p>The hunters chose a convenient place, and recrossed the stream +to our side, apparently not heeding the crocodiles more than we +should pike when bathing in England. They would not waste their +time by securing the crocodile at present, as they wished to kill a +hippopotamus; the float would mark the position, and they would be +certain to find it later. We accordingly continued our search for +hippopotami; these animals appeared to be on the <i>qui vive</i>, +and, as the hunters once more failed in an attempt, I made a clean +shot behind the ear of one, and killed it dead. At length we +arrived at a large pool, in which were several sandbanks covered +with rushes, and many rocky islands. Among these rocks were a herd +of hippopotami, consisting of an old bull and several cows; a young +hippo was standing, like an ugly little statue, on a protruding +rock, while another infant stood upon its mother's back that +listlessly floated on the water.</p> +<p>This was an admirable place for the hunters. They desired me to +lie down, and they crept into the jungle out of view of the river; +I presently observed them stealthily descending the dry bed about +two hundred paces above the spot where the hippos were basking +behind the rocks. They entered the river, and swam down the centre +of the stream toward the rock. This was highly exciting:--the +hippos were quite unconscious of the approaching danger, as, +steadily and rapidly, the hunters floated down the strong current; +they neared the rock, and both heads disappeared as they purposely +sank out of view; in a few seconds later they reappeared at the +edge of the rock upon which the young hippo stood. It would be +difficult to say which started first, the astonished young hippo +into the water, or the harpoons from the hands of the howartis! It +was the affair of a moment; the hunters dived directly they had +hurled their harpoons, and, swimming for some distance under water, +they came to the surface, and hastened to the shore lest an +infuriated hippopotamus should follow them. One harpoon had missed; +the other had fixed the bull of the herd, at which it had been +surely aimed. This was grand sport! The bull was in the greatest +fury, and rose to the surface, snorting and blowing in his impotent +rage; but as the ambatch float was exceedingly large, and this +naturally accompanied his movements, he tried to escape from his +imaginary persecutor, and dived constantly, only to find his +pertinacious attendant close to him upon regaining the surface. +This was not to last long; the howartis were in earnest, and they +at once called their party, who, with two of the aggageers, Abou Do +and Suleiman, were near at hand; these men arrived with the long +ropes that form a portion of the outfit for hippo hunting.</p> +<p>The whole party now halted on the edge of the river, while two +men swam across with one end of the long rope. Upon gaining the +opposite bank, I observed that a second rope was made fast to the +middle of the main line; thus upon our side we held the ends of two +ropes, while on the opposite side they had only one; accordingly, +the point of junction of the two ropes in the centre formed an +acute angle. The object of this was soon practically explained. Two +men upon our side now each held a rope, and one of these walked +about ten yards before the other. Upon both sides of the river the +people now advanced, dragging the rope on the surface of the water +until they reached the ambatch float that was swimming to and fro, +according to the movements of the hippopotamus below. By a +dexterous jerk of the main line, the float was now placed between +the two ropes, and it was immediately secured in the acute angle by +bringing together the ends of these ropes on our side.</p> +<p>The men on the opposite bank now dropped their line, and our men +hauled in upon the ambatch float that was held fast between the +ropes. Thus cleverly made sure, we quickly brought a strain upon +the hippo, and, although I have had some experience in handling big +fish, I never knew one pull so lustily as the amphibious animal +that we now alternately coaxed and bullied. He sprang out of the +water, gnashed his huge jaws, snorted with tremendous rage, and +lashed the river into foam; he then dived, and foolishly approached +us beneath the water. We quickly gathered in the slack line, and +took a round turn upon a large rock, within a few feet of the +river. The hippo now rose to the surface, about ten yards from the +hunters, and, jumping half out of the water, he snapped his great +jaws together, endeavoring to catch the rope, but at the same +instant two harpoons were launched into his side. Disdaining +retreat and maddened with rage, the furious animal charged from the +depths of the river, and, gaining a footing, he reared his bulky +form from the surface, came boldly upon the sandbank, and attacked +the hunters open-mouthed. He little knew his enemy; they were not +the men to fear a pair of gaping jaws, armed with a deadly array of +tusks, but half a dozen lances were hurled at him, some entering +his mouth from a distance of five or six paces, at the same time +several men threw handfuls of sand into his enormous eyes. This +baffled him more than the lances; he crunched the shafts between +his powerful jaws like straws, but he was beaten by the sand, and, +shaking his huge head, he retreated to the river. During his sally +upon the shore, two of the hunters had secured the ropes of the +harpoons that had been fastened in his body just before his charge; +he was now fixed by three of these deadly instruments, but suddenly +one rope gave way, having been bitten through by the enraged beast, +who was still beneath the water. Immediately after this he appeared +on the surface, and, without a moment's hesitation, he once more +charged furiously from the water straight at the hunters, with his +huge mouth open to such an extent that he could have accommodated +two inside passengers. Suleiman was wild with delight, and +springing forward lance in hand, he drove it against the head of +the formidable animal, but without effect. At the same time, Abou +Do met the hippo sword in hand, reminding me of Perseus slaying the +sea-monster that would devour Andromeda, but the sword made a +harmless gash, and the lance, already blunted against the rocks, +refused to penetrate the tough hide; once more handfuls of sand +were pelted upon his face, and again repulsed by this blinding +attack, he was forced to retire to his deep hole and wash it from +his eyes. Six times during the fight the valiant bull hippo quitted +his watery fortress, and charged resolutely at his pursuers; he had +broken several of their lances in his jaws, other lances had been +hurled, and, falling upon the rocks, they were blunted, and would +not penetrate. The fight had continued for three hours, and the sun +was about to set, accordingly the hunters begged me to give him the +<i>coup de grace</i>, as they had hauled him close to the shore, +and they feared he would sever the rope with his teeth. I waited +for a good opportunity, when he boldly raised his head from water +about three yards from the rifle, and a bullet from the little +Fletcher between the eyes closed the last act.</p> +<br> +<a name="BAKER_2"></a> +<h3>THE SOURCES OF THE NILE</h3> +<center>From 'The Albert Nyanza'</center> +<p>The name of this village was Parkani. For several days past our +guides had told us that we were very near to the lake, and we were +now assured that we should reach it on the morrow. I had noticed a +lofty range of mountains at an immense distance west, and I had +imagined that the lake lay on the other side of this chain; but I +was now informed that those mountains formed the western frontier +of the M'wootan N'zigé, and that the lake was actually +within a march of Parkani. I could not believe it possible that we +were so near the object of our search. The guide Rabonga now +appeared, and declared that if we started early on the following +morning we should be able to wash in the lake by noon!</p> +<p>That night I hardly slept. For years I had striven to reach the +"sources of the Nile." In my nightly dreams during that arduous +voyage I had always failed, but after so much hard work and +perseverance the cup was at my very lips, and I was to drink at the +mysterious fountain before another sun should set--at that great +reservoir of Nature that ever since creation had baffled all +discovery.</p> +<p>I had hoped, and prayed, and striven through all kinds of +difficulties, in sickness, starvation, and fatigue, to reach that +hidden source; and when it had appeared impossible, we had both +determined to die upon the road rather than return defeated. Was it +possible that it was so near, and that to-morrow we could say, "the +work is accomplished"?</p> +<p>The 14th March. The sun had not risen when I was spurring my ox +after the guide, who, having been promised a double handful of +beads on arrival at the lake, had caught the enthusiasm of the +moment. The day broke beautifully clear, and having crossed a deep +valley between the hills, we toiled up the opposite slope. I +hurried to the summit. The glory of our prize burst suddenly upon +me! There, like a sea of quicksilver, lay far beneath the grand +expanse of water,--a boundless sea horizon on the south and +southwest, glittering in the noonday sun; and on the west at fifty +or sixty miles distance blue mountains rose from the bosom of the +lake to a height of about 7,000 feet above its level.</p> +<p>It is impossible to describe the triumph of that moment;--here +was the reward for all our labor--for the years of tenacity with +which we had toiled through Africa. England had won the sources of +the Nile! Long before I reached this spot I had arranged to give +three cheers with all our men in English style in honor of the +discovery, but now that I looked down upon the great inland sea +lying nestled in the very heart of Africa, and thought how vainly +mankind had sought these sources throughout so many ages, and +reflected that I had been the humble instrument permitted to +unravel this portion of the great mystery when so many greater than +I had failed, I felt too serious to vent my feelings in vain cheers +for victory, and I sincerely thanked God for having guided and +supported us through all dangers to the good end. I was about 1,500 +feet above the lake, and I looked down from the steep granite cliff +upon those welcome waters--upon that vast reservoir which nourished +Egypt and brought fertility where all was wilderness--upon that +great source so long hidden from mankind; that source of bounty and +of blessings to millions of human beings; and as one of the +greatest objects in nature, I determined to honor it with a great +name. As an imperishable memorial of one loved and mourned by our +gracious Queen and deplored by every Englishman, I called this +great lake "the Albert Nyanza." The Victoria and the Albert lakes +are the two sources of the Nile.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>ARTHUR JAMES <a name="BALFOUR"></a>BALFOUR</h2> +<h3>(1848-)</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-a.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>lthough the prominence of Arthur James Balfour in English +contemporary life is in the main that of a statesman, he has a high +place as a critic of philosophy, especially in its relation to +religion. During the early part of his life his interests were +entirely those of a student. He was born in 1848, a member of the +Cecil family, and a nephew of the Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury. +His tastes were those of a retired thinker. He cared for +literature, music, and philosophy, but very little for the +political world; so little that he never read the newspapers. This +tendency was increased by his delicate health. When, therefore, as +a young man in the neighborhood of thirty, he was made Secretary +for Scotland, people laughed. His uncle's choice proved to be a +wise one, however; and he later, in 1886, gave his nephew the very +important position of Irish Secretary, at a time when some of the +ablest and most experienced statesmen had failed. Mr. Balfour won +an unexpected success and a wide reputation, and from that time on +he developed rapidly into one of the most skillful statesmen of the +Conservative party. By tradition and by temperament he is an +extreme Tory; and it is in the opposition, as a skillful fencer in +debate and a sharp critic of pretentious schemes, that he has been +most admired and most feared. However, he is kept from being +narrowly confined to the traditional point of view by the +philosophic interests and training of his mind, which he has turned +into practical fairness. Some of his speeches are most original in +suggestion, and all show a literary quality of a high order. His +writings on other subjects are also broad, scholarly, and +practical. 'A Defense of Philosophic Doubt' is thought by some +philosophers to be the ablest work of destructive criticism since +Hume. 'The Foundations of Belief' covers somewhat the same ground +and in more popular fashion. 'Essays and Addresses' is a collection +of papers on literature and sociology.</p> +<br> +<p class="rgt"><img src="images/image342.png" width="40%" alt= +""><br> +<b>ARTHUR J. BALFOUR</b></p> +<a name="BALFOUR_1"></a> +<h3>THE PLEASURES OF READING</h3> +<center>From his Rectorial Address before the University of +Glasgow</center> +<p>I confess to have been much perplexed in my search for a topic +on which I could say something to which you would have patience to +listen, or on which I might find it profitable to speak. One theme +however there is, not inappropriate to the place in which I stand, +nor I hope unwelcome to the audience which I address. The youngest +of you have left behind that period of youth during which it seems +inconceivable that any book should afford recreation except a +story-book. Many of you are just reaching the period when, at the +end of your prescribed curriculum, the whole field and compass of +literature lies outspread before you; when, with faculties trained +and disciplined, and the edge of curiosity not dulled or worn with +use, you may enter at your leisure into the intellectual heritage +of the centuries.</p> +<p>Now the question of how to read and what to read has of late +filled much space in the daily papers, if it cannot strictly +speaking be said to have profoundly occupied the public mind. But +you need be under no alarm. I am not going to supply you with a new +list of the hundred books most worth reading, nor am I about to +take the world into my confidence in respect of my "favorite +passages from the best authors." Nor again do I address myself to +the professed student, to the fortunate individual with whom +literature or science is the business as well as the pleasure of +life. I have not the qualifications which would enable me to +undertake such a task with the smallest hope of success. My theme +is humble, though the audience to whom I desire to speak is large: +for I speak to the ordinary reader with ordinary capacities and +ordinary leisure, to whom reading is, or ought to be, not a +business but a pleasure; and my theme is the enjoyment--not, mark +you, the improvement, nor the glory, nor the profit, but the +<i>enjoyment</i>--which may be derived by such an one from +books.</p> +<p>It is perhaps due to the controversial habits engendered by my +unfortunate profession, that I find no easier method of making my +own view clear than that of contrasting with it what I regard as an +erroneous view held by somebody else; and in the present case the +doctrine which I shall choose as a foil to my own, is one which has +been stated with the utmost force and directness by that brilliant +and distinguished writer, Mr. Frederic Harrison. He has, as many of +you know, recently given us, in a series of excellent essays, his +opinion on the principles which should guide us in the choice of +books. Against that part of his treatise which is occupied with +specific recommendations of certain authors I have not a word to +say. He has resisted all the temptations to eccentricity which so +easily beset the modern critic. Every book which he praises +deserves his praise, and has long been praised by the world at +large. I do not, indeed, hold that the verdict of the world is +necessarily binding on the individual conscience. I admit to the +full that there is an enormous quantity of hollow devotion, of +withered orthodoxy divorced from living faith, in the eternal +chorus of praise which goes up from every literary altar to the +memory of the immortal dead. Nevertheless every critic is bound to +recognize, as Mr. Harrison recognizes, that he must put down to +individual peculiarity any difference he may have with the general +verdict of the ages; he must feel that mankind are not likely to be +in a conspiracy of error as to the kind of literary work which +conveys to them the highest literary enjoyment, and that in such +cases at least <i>securus judicat orbis terrarum</i>.</p> +<p>But it is quite possible to hold that any work recommended by +Mr. Harrison is worth repeated reading, and yet to reject utterly +the theory of study by which these recommendations are prefaced. +For Mr. Harrison is a ruthless censor. His <i>index +expurgatorius</i> includes, so far as I can discover, the whole +catalogue of the British Museum, with the exception of a small +remnant which might easily be contained in about thirty or forty +volumes. The vast remainder he contemplates with feelings +apparently not merely of indifference, but of active aversion. He +surveys the boundless and ever-increasing waste of books with +emotions compounded of disgust and dismay. He is almost tempted to +say in his haste that the invention of printing has been an evil +one for humanity. In the habits of miscellaneous reading, born of a +too easy access to libraries, circulating and other, he sees many +soul-destroying tendencies; and his ideal reader would appear to be +a gentleman who rejects with a lofty scorn all in history that does +not pass for being first-rate in importance, and all in literature +that is not admitted to be first-rate in quality.</p> +<p>Now, I am far from denying that this theory is plausible. Of all +that has been written, it is certain that the professed student can +master but an infinitesimal fraction. Of that fraction the ordinary +reader can master but a very small part. What advice, then, can be +better than to select for study the few masterpieces that have come +down to us, and to treat as non-existent the huge but +undistinguished remainder? We are like travelers passing hastily +through some ancient city; filled with memorials of many +generations and more than one great civilization. Our time is +short. Of what may be seen we can only see at best but a trifling +fragment. Let us then take care that we waste none of our precious +moments upon that which is less than the most excellent. So +preaches Mr. Frederic Harrison; and when a doctrine which put thus +may seem not only wise but obvious, is further supported by such +assertions that habits of miscellaneous reading "close the mind to +what is spiritually sustaining" by "stuffing it with what is simply +curious," or that such methods of study are worse than no habits of +study at all because they "gorge and enfeeble" the mind by "excess +in that which cannot nourish," I almost feel that in venturing to +dissent from it, I may be attacking not merely the teaching of +common sense but the inspirations of a high morality.</p> +<p>Yet I am convinced that for most persons the views thus laid +down by Mr. Harrison are wrong; and that what he describes, with +characteristic vigor, as "an impotent voracity for desultory +information," is in reality a most desirable and a not too common +form of mental appetite. I have no sympathy whatever with the +horror he expresses at the "incessant accumulation of fresh books." +I am never tempted to regret that Gutenberg was born into the +world. I care not at all though the "cataract of printed stuff," as +Mr. Harrison calls it, should flow and still flow on until the +catalogues of our libraries should make libraries themselves. I am +prepared, indeed, to express sympathy almost amounting to +approbation for any one who would check all writing which was +<i>not</i> intended for the printer. I pay no tribute of grateful +admiration to those who have oppressed mankind with the dubious +blessing of the penny post. But the ground of the distinction is +plain. We are always obliged to read our letters, and are sometimes +obliged to answer them. But who obliges us to wade through the +piled-up lumber of an ancient library, or to skim more than we like +off the frothy foolishness poured forth in ceaseless streams by our +circulating libraries? Dead dunces do not importune us; Grub Street +does not ask for a reply by return of post. Even their living +successors need hurt no one who possesses the very moderate degree +of social courage required to make the admission that he has not +read the last new novel or the current number of a fashionable +magazine.</p> +<p>But this is not the view of Mr. Harrison. To him the position of +any one having free access to a large library is fraught with +issues so tremendous that, in order adequately to describe it, he +has to seek for parallels in two of the most highly-wrought +episodes in fiction: the Ancient Mariner, becalmed and thirsting on +the tropic ocean; Bunyan's Christian in the crisis of spiritual +conflict. But there is here, surely, some error and some +exaggeration. Has miscellaneous reading all the dreadful +consequences which Mr. Harrison depicts? Has it any of them? His +declaration about the intellect being "gorged and enfeebled" by the +absorption of too much information, expresses no doubt with great +vigor an analogy, for which there is high authority, between the +human mind and the human stomach; but surely it is an analogy which +may be pressed too far. I have often heard of the individual whose +excellent natural gifts have been so overloaded with huge masses of +undigested and indigestible learning that they have had no chance +of healthy development. But though I have often heard of this +personage, I have never met him, and I believe him to be mythical. +It is true, no doubt, that many learned people are dull; but there +is no indication whatever that they are dull because they are +learned. True dullness is seldom acquired; it is a natural grace, +the manifestations of which, however modified by education, remain +in substance the same. Fill a dull man to the brim with knowledge, +and he will not become less dull, as the enthusiasts for education +vainly imagine; but neither will he become duller, as Mr. Harrison +appears to suppose. He will remain in essence what he always has +been and always must have been. But whereas his dullness would, if +left to itself, have been merely vacuous, it may have become, under +cureful cultivation, pretentious and pedantic.</p> +<p>I would further point out to you that while there is no ground +in experience for supposing that a keen interest in those facts +which Mr. Harrison describes as "merely curious" has any stupefying +effect upon the mind, or has any tendency to render it insensible +to the higher things of literature and art, there is positive +evidence that many of those who have most deeply felt the charm of +these higher things have been consumed by that omnivorous appetite +for knowledge which excites Mr. Harrison's especial indignation. +Dr. Johnson, for instance, though deaf to some of the most delicate +harmonies of verse, was without question a very great critic. Yet +in Dr. Johnson's opinion, literary history, which is for the most +part composed of facts which Mr. Harrison would regard as +insignificant, about authors whom he would regard as pernicious, +was the most delightful of studies. Again, consider the case of +Lord Macaulay. Lord Macaulay did everything Mr. Harrison says he +ought not to have done. From youth to age he was continuously +occupied in "gorging and enfeebling" his intellect, by the +unlimited consumption of every species of literature, from the +masterpieces of the age of Pericles to the latest rubbish from the +circulating library. It is not told of him that his intellect +suffered by the process; and though it will hardly be claimed for +him that he was a great critic, none will deny that he possessed +the keenest susceptibilities for literary excellence in many +languages and in every form. If Englishmen and Scotchmen do not +satisfy you, I will take a Frenchman. The most accomplished critic +whom France has produced is, by general admission, Ste.-Beuve. His +capacity for appreciating supreme perfection in literature will be +disputed by none; yet the great bulk of his vast literary industry +was expended upon the lives and writings of authors whose lives Mr. +Harrison would desire us to forget, and whose writings almost wring +from him the wish that the art of printing had never been +discovered.</p> +<p>I am even bold enough to hazard the conjecture (I trust he will +forgive me) that Mr. Harrison's life may be quoted against Mr. +Harrison's theory. I entirely decline to believe, without further +evidence, that the writings whose vigor of style and of thought +have been the delight of us all are the product of his own system. +I hope I do him no wrong, but I cannot help thinking that if we +knew the truth, we should find that he followed the practice of +those worthy physicians who, after prescribing the most abstemious +diet to their patients, may be seen partaking freely, and to all +appearances safely, of the most succulent and the most unwholesome +of the forbidden dishes.</p> +<p>It has to be noted that Mr. Harrison's list of the books which +deserve perusal would seem to indicate that in his opinion, the +pleasures to be derived from literature are chiefly pleasures of +the imagination. Poets, dramatists, and novelists form the chief +portion of the somewhat meagre fare which is specifically permitted +to his disciples. Now, though I have already stated that the list +is not one of which any person is likely to assert that it contains +books which ought to be excluded, yet, even from the point of view +of what may be termed aesthetic enjoyment, the field in which we +are allowed to take our pleasures seems to me unduly +restricted.</p> +<p>Contemporary poetry, for instance, on which Mr. Harrison bestows +a good deal of hard language, has and must have, for the generation +which produces it, certain qualities not likely to be possessed by +any other. Charles Lamb has somewhere declared that a pun loses all +its virtues as soon as the momentary quality of the intellectual +and social atmosphere in which it was born has changed its +character. What is true of this, the humblest effort of verbal art, +is true in a different measure and degree of all, even of the +highest, forms of literature. To some extent every work requires +interpretation to generations who are separated by differences of +thought or education from the age in which it was originally +produced. That this is so with every book which depends for its +interest upon feelings and fashions which have utterly vanished, no +one will be disposed, I imagine, to deny. Butler's 'Hudibras,' for +instance, which was the delight of a gay and witty society, is to +me at least not unfrequently dull. Of some works, no doubt, which +made a noise in their day it seems impossible to detect the +slightest race of charm. But this is not the case with 'Hudibras.' +Its merits are obvious. That they should have appealed to a +generation sick of the reign of the "Saints" is precisely what we +should have expected. But to us, who are not sick of the reign of +the Saints, they appeal but imperfectly. The attempt to reproduce +artificially the frame of mind of those who first read the poem is +not only an effort, but is to most people, at all events, an +unsuccessful effort. What is true of 'Hudibras' is true also, +though in an inconceivably smaller degree, of those great works of +imagination which deal with the elemental facts of human character +and human passion. Yet even on these, time does, though lightly, +lay his hand. Wherever what may be called "historic sympathy" is +required, there will be some diminution of the enjoyment which +those must have felt who were the poet's contemporaries. We look, +so to speak, at the same splendid landscape as they, but distance +has made it necessary for us to aid our natural vision with +glasses, and some loss of light will thus inevitably be produced, +and some inconvenience from the difficulty of truly adjusting the +focus. Of all authors, Homer would, I suppose, be thought to suffer +least from such drawbacks. But yet in order to listen to Homer's +accents with the ears of an ancient Greek, we must be able, among +other things, to enter into a view about the gods which is as far +removed from what we should describe as religious sentiment, as it +is from the frigid ingenuity of those later poets who regarded the +deities of Greek mythology as so many wheels in the supernatural +machinery with which it pleased them to carry on the action of +their pieces. If we are to accept Mr. Herbert Spencer's views as to +the progress of our species, changes of sentiment are likely to +occur which will even more seriously interfere with the world's +delight in the Homeric poems. When human beings become so nicely +"adjusted to their environment" that courage and dexterity in +battle will have become as useless among civic virtues as an old +helmet is among the weapons of war; when fighting gets to be looked +upon with the sort of disgust excited in us by cannibalism; and +when public opinion shall regard a warrior much in the same light +that we regard a hangman,--I do not see how any fragment of that +vast and splendid literature which depends for its interest upon +deeds of heroism and the joy of battle is to retain its ancient +charm.</p> +<p>About these remote contingencies, however, I am glad to think +that neither you nor I need trouble our heads; and if I +parenthetically allude to them now, it is merely as an illustration +of a truth not always sufficiently remembered, and as an excuse for +those who find in the genuine, though possibly second-rate, +productions of their own age, a charm for which they search in vain +among the mighty monuments of the past.</p> +<p>But I leave this train of thought, which has perhaps already +taken me too far, in order to point out a more fundamental error, +as I think it, which arises from regarding literature solely from +this high aesthetic standpoint. The pleasures of imagination, +derived from the best literary models, form without doubt the most +exquisite portion of the enjoyment which we may extract from books; +but they do not, in my opinion, form the largest portion if we take +into account mass as well as quality in our calculation. There is +the literature which appeals to the imagination or the fancy, some +stray specimens of which Mr. Harrison will permit us to peruse; but +is there not also the literature which satisfies the curiosity? Is +this vast storehouse of pleasure to be thrown hastily aside because +many of the facts which it contains are alleged to be +insignificant, because the appetite to which they minister is said +to be morbid? Consider a little. We are here dealing with one of +the strongest intellectual impulses of rational beings. Animals, as +a rule, trouble themselves but little about anything unless they +want either to eat it or to run away from it. Interest in and +wonder at the works of nature and the doings of man are products of +civilization, and excite emotions which do not diminish but +increase with increasing knowledge and cultivation. Feed them and +they grow; minister to them and they will greatly multiply. We hear +much indeed of what is called "idle curiosity"; but I am loth to +brand any form of curiosity as necessarily idle. Take, for example, +one of the most singular, but in this age one of the most +universal, forms in which it is accustomed to manifest itself: I +mean that of an exhaustive study of the contents of the morning and +evening papers. It is certainly remarkable that any person who has +nothing to get by it should destroy his eyesight and confuse his +brain by a conscientious attempt to master the dull and doubtful +details of the European diary daily transmitted to us by "Our +Special Correspondent." But it must be remembered that this is only +a somewhat unprofitable exercise of that disinterested love of +knowledge which moves men to penetrate the Polar snows, to build up +systems of philosophy, or to explore the secrets of the remotest +heavens. It has in it the rudiments of infinite and varied +delights. It <i>can</i> be turned, and it <i>should</i> be turned +into a curiosity for which nothing that has been done, or thought, +or suffered, or believed, no law which governs the world of matter +or the world of mind, can be wholly alien or uninteresting.</p> +<p>Truly it is a subject for astonishment that, instead of +expanding to the utmost the employment of this pleasure-giving +faculty, so many persons should set themselves to work to limit its +exercise by all kinds of arbitrary regulations. Some there are, for +example, who tell us that the acquisition of knowledge is all very +well, but that it must be <i>useful</i> knowledge; meaning usually +thereby that it must enable a man to get on in a profession, pass +an examination, shine in conversation, or obtain a reputation for +learning. But even if they mean something higher than this, even if +they mean that knowledge to be worth anything must subserve +ultimately if not immediately the material or spiritual interests +of mankind, the doctrine is one which should be energetically +repudiated. I admit, of course, at once, that discoveries the most +apparently remote from human concerns have often proved themselves +of the utmost commercial or manufacturing value. But they require +no such justification for their existence, nor were they striven +for with any such object. Navigation is not the final cause of +astronomy, nor telegraphy of electro-dynamics, nor dye-works of +chemistry. And if it be true that the desire of knowledge for the +sake of knowledge was the animating motive of the great men who +first wrested her secrets from nature, why should it not also be +enough for us, to whom it is not given to discover, but only to +learn as best we may what has been discovered by others?</p> +<p>Another maxim, more plausible but equally pernicious, is that +superficial knowledge is worse than no knowledge at all. That "a +little knowledge is a dangerous thing" is a saying which has now +got currency as a proverb stamped in the mint of Pope's +versification; of Pope, who with the most imperfect knowledge of +Greek translated Homer, with the most imperfect knowledge of the +Elizabethan drama edited Shakespeare, and with the most imperfect +knowledge of philosophy wrote the 'Essay on Man.' But what is this +"little knowledge" which is supposed to be so dangerous? What is it +"little" in relation to? If in relation to what there is to know, +then all human knowledge is little. If in relation to what actually +is known by somebody, then we must condemn as "dangerous" the +knowledge which Archimedes possessed of mechanics, or Copernicus of +astronomy; for a shilling primer and a few weeks' study will enable +any student to outstrip in mere information some of the greatest +teachers of the past. No doubt, that little knowledge which thinks +itself to be great may possibly be a dangerous, as it certainly is +a most ridiculous thing. We have all suffered under that eminently +absurd individual who on the strength of one or two volumes, +imperfectly apprehended by himself, and long discredited in the +estimation of everyone else, is prepared to supply you on the +shortest notice with a dogmatic solution of every problem suggested +by this "unintelligible world" or the political variety of the same +pernicious genus, whose statecraft consists in the ready +application to the most complex question of national interest of +some high-sounding commonplace which has done weary duty on a +thousand platforms, and which even in its palmiest days was never +fit for anything better than a peroration. But in our dislike of +the individual, do not let us mistake the diagnosis of his disease. +He suffers not from ignorance but from stupidity. Give him learning +and you make him not wise, but only more pretentious in his +folly.</p> +<p>I say then that so far from a little knowledge being +undesirable, a little knowledge is all that on most subjects any of +us can hope to attain; and that, as a source not of worldly profit +but of personal pleasure, it may be of incalculable value to its +possessor. But it will naturally be asked, "How are we to select +from among the infinite number of things which may be known, those +which it is best worth while for us to know?" We are constantly +being told to concern ourselves with learning what is important, +and not to waste our energies upon what is insignificant. But what +are the marks by which we shall recognize the important, and how is +it to be distinguished from the insignificant. A precise and +complete answer to this question which shall be true for all men +cannot be given. I am considering knowledge, recollect, as it +ministers to enjoyment; and from this point of view each unit of +information is obviously of importance in proportion as it +increases the general sum of enjoyment which we obtain, or expect +to obtain, from knowledge. This, of course, makes it impossible to +lay down precise rules which shall be an equally sure guide to all +sorts and conditions of men; for in this, as in other matters, +tastes must differ, and against real difference of taste there is +no appeal.</p> +<p>There is, however, one caution which it may be worth your while +to keep in view:--Do not be persuaded into applying any general +proposition on this subject with a foolish impartiality to every +kind of knowledge. There are those who tell you that it is the +broad generalities and the far-reaching principles which govern the +world, which are alone worthy of your attention. A fact which is +not an illustration of a law, in the opinion of these persons +appears to lose all its value. Incidents which do not fit into some +great generalization, events which are merely picturesque, details +which are merely curious, they dismiss as unworthy the interest of +a reasoning being. Now, even in science this doctrine in its +extreme form does not hold good. The most scientific of men have +taken profound interest in the investigation of facts from the +determination of which they do not anticipate any material addition +to our knowledge of the laws which regulate the Universe. In these +matters, I need hardly say that I speak wholly without authority. +But I have always been under the impression that an investigation +which has cost hundreds of thousands of pounds; which has stirred +on three occasions the whole scientific community throughout the +civilized world; on which has been expended the utmost skill in the +construction of instruments and their application to purposes of +research (I refer to the attempts made to determine the distance of +the sun by observation of the transit of Venus),--would, even if +they had been brought to a successful issue, have furnished mankind +with the knowledge of no new astronomical principle. The laws which +govern the motions of the solar system, the proportions which the +various elements in that system bear to one another, have long been +known. The distance of the sun itself is known within limits of +error relatively speaking not very considerable. Were the measuring +rod we apply to the heavens based on an estimate of the sun's +distance from the earth which was wrong by (say) three per cent., +it would not to the lay mind seem to affect very materially our +view either of the distribution of the heavenly bodies or of their +motions. And yet this information, this piece of celestial gossip, +would seem to have been the chief astronomical result expected from +the successful prosecution of an investigation in which whole +nations have interested themselves.</p> +<p>But though no one can, I think, pretend that science does not +concern itself, and properly concern itself, with facts which are +not to all appearance illustrations of law, it is undoubtedly true +that for those who desire to extract the greatest pleasure from +science, a knowledge, however elementary, of the leading principles +of investigation and the larger laws of nature, is the acquisition +most to be desired. To him who is not a specialist, a comprehension +of the broad outlines of the universe as it presents itself to his +scientific imagination is the thing most worth striving to attain. +But when we turn from science to what is rather vaguely called +history, the same principles of study do not, I think, altogether +apply, and mainly for this reason: that while the recognition of +the reign of law is the chief amongst the pleasures imparted by +science, our inevitable ignorance makes it the least among the +pleasures imparted by history.</p> +<p>It is no doubt true that we are surrounded by advisers who tell +us that all study of the past is barren, except in so far as it +enables us to determine the principles by which the evolution of +human societies is governed. How far such an investigation has been +up to the present time fruitful in results, it would be unkind to +inquire. That it will ever enable us to trace with accuracy the +course which States and nations are destined to pursue in the +future, or to account in detail for their history in the past, I do +not in the least believe. We are borne along like travelers on some +unexplored stream. We may know enough of the general configuration +of the globe to be sure that we are making our way towards the +ocean. We may know enough, by experience or theory, of the laws +regulating the flow of liquids, to conjecture how the river will +behave under the varying influences to which it may be subject. +More than this we cannot know. It will depend largely upon causes +which, in relation to any laws which we are even likely to discover +may properly be called accidental, whether we are destined +sluggishly to drift among fever-stricken swamps, to hurry down +perilous rapids, or to glide gently through fair scenes of peaceful +cultivation.</p> +<p>But leaving on one side ambitious sociological speculations, and +even those more modest but hitherto more successful investigations +into the causes which have in particular cases been principally +operative in producing great political changes, there are still two +modes in which we can derive what I may call "spectacular" +enjoyment from the study of history. There is first the pleasure +which arises from the contemplation of some great historic drama, +or some broad and well-marked phase of social development. The +story of the rise, greatness, and decay of a nation is like some +vast epic which contains as subsidiary episodes the varied stories +of the rise, greatness, and decay of creeds, of parties, and of +statesmen. The imagination is moved by the slow unrolling of this +great picture of human mutability, as it is moved by the contrasted +permanence of the abiding stars. The ceaseless conflict, the +strange echoes of long-forgotten controversies, the confusion of +purpose, the successes in which lay deep the seeds of future evils, +the failures that ultimately divert the otherwise inevitable +danger, the heroism which struggles to the last for a cause +foredoomed to defeat, the wickedness which sides with right, and +the wisdom which huzzas at the triumph of folly,--fate, meanwhile, +amidst this turmoil and perplexity, working silently towards the +predestined end,--all these form together a subject the +contemplation of which need surely never weary.</p> +<p>But yet there is another and very different species of enjoyment +to be derived from the records of the past, which requires a +somewhat different method of study in order that it may be fully +tasted. Instead of contemplating as it were from a distance the +larger aspects of the human drama, we may elect to move in familiar +fellowship amid the scenes and actors of special periods. We may +add to the interest we derive from the contemplation of +contemporary politics, a similar interest derived from a not less +minute, and probably more accurate, knowledge of some comparatively +brief passage in the political history of the past. We may extend +the social circle in which we move, a circle perhaps narrowed and +restricted through circumstances beyond our control, by making +intimate acquaintances, perhaps even close friends, among a society +long departed, but which, when we have once learnt the trick of it, +we may, if it so pleases us, revive.</p> +<p>It is this kind of historical reading which is usually branded +as frivolous and useless; and persons who indulge in it often +delude themselves into thinking that the real motive of their +investigation into bygone scenes and ancient scandals is +philosophic interest in an important historical episode, whereas in +truth it is not the philosophy which glorifies the details, but the +details which make tolerable the philosophy. Consider, for example, +the case of the French Revolution. The period from the taking of +the Bastile to the fall of Robespierre is about the same as that +which very commonly intervenes between two of our general +elections. On these comparatively few months, libraries have been +written. The incidents of every week are matters of familiar +knowledge. The character and the biography of every actor in the +drama has been made the subject of minute study; and by common +admission there is no more fascinating page in the history of the +world. But the interest is not what is commonly called philosophic, +it is personal. Because the Revolution is the dominant fact in +modern history, therefore people suppose that the doings of this or +that provincial lawyer, tossed into temporary eminence and eternal +infamy by some freak of the revolutionary wave, or the atrocities +committed by this or that mob, half drunk with blood, rhetoric, and +alcohol, are of transcendent importance. In truth their interest is +great, but their importance is small. What we are concerned to know +as students of the philosophy of history is, not the character of +each turn and eddy in the great social cataract, but the manner in +which the currents of the upper stream drew surely in towards the +final plunge, and slowly collected themselves after the catastrophe +again, to pursue at a different level their renewed and +comparatively tranquil course.</p> +<p>Now, if so much of the interest of the French Revolution depends +upon our minute knowledge of each passing incident, how much more +necessary is such knowledge when we are dealing with the quiet +nooks and corners of history; when we are seeking an introduction, +let us say, into the literary society of Johnson, or the +fashionable society of Walpole. Society, dead or alive, can have no +charm without intimacy, and no intimacy without interest in trifles +which I fear Mr. Harrison would describe as "merely curious." If we +would feel at our ease in any company, if we wish to find humor in +its jokes, and point in its repartees, we must know something of +the beliefs and the prejudices of its various members, their loves +and their hates, their hopes and their fears, their maladies, their +marriages, and their flirtations. If these things are beneath our +notice, we shall not be the less qualified to serve our Queen and +country, but need make no attempt to extract pleasure from one of +the most delightful departments of literature.</p> +<p>That there is such a thing as trifling information I do not of +course question; but the frame of mind in which the reader is +constantly weighing the exact importance to the universe at large +of each circumstance which the author presents to his notice, is +not one conducive to the true enjoyment of a picture whose effect +depends upon a multitude of slight and seemingly insignificant +touches, which impress the mind often without remaining in the +memory. The best method of guarding against the danger of reading +what is useless is to read only what is interesting; a truth which +will seem a paradox to a whole class of readers, fitting objects of +our commiseration, who may be often recognized by their habit of +asking some adviser for a list of books, and then marking out a +scheme of study in the course of which all are to be +conscientiously perused. These unfortunate persons apparently read +a book principally with the object of getting to the end of it. +They reach the word <i>Finis</i> with the same sensation of triumph +as an Indian feels who strings a fresh scalp to his girdle. They +are not happy unless they mark by some definite performance each +step in the weary path of self-improvement. To begin a volume and +not to finish it would be to deprive themselves of this +satisfaction; it would be to lose all the reward of their earlier +self-denial by a lapse from virtue at the end. To skip, according +to their literary code, is a species of cheating; it is a mode of +obtaining credit for erudition on false pretenses; a plan by which +the advantages of learning are surreptitiously obtained by those +who have not won them by honest toil. But all this is quite wrong. +In matters literary, works have no saving efficacy. He has only +half learnt the art of reading who has not added to it the even +more refined accomplishments of skipping and of skimming; and the +first step has hardly been taken in the direction of making +literature a pleasure until interest in the subject, and not a +desire to spare (so to speak) the author's feelings, or to +accomplish an appointed task, is the prevailing motive of the +reader.</p> +<p>I have now reached, not indeed the end of my subject, which I +have scarcely begun, but the limits inexorably set by the +circumstances under which it is treated. Yet I am unwilling to +conclude without meeting an objection to my method of dealing with +it, which has I am sure been present to the minds of not a few who +have been good enough to listen to me with patience. It will be +said that I have ignored the higher functions of literature; that I +have degraded it from its rightful place, by discussing only +certain ways in which it may minister to the entertainment of an +idle hour, leaving wholly out of sight its contributions to what +Mr. Harrison calls our "spiritual sustenance." Now, this is partly +because the first of these topics and not the second was the avowed +subject of my address; but it is partly because I am deliberately +of opinion that it is the pleasures and not the profits, spiritual +or temporal, of literature which most require to be preached in the +ear of the ordinary reader. I hold indeed the faith that all such +pleasures minister to the development of much that is best in +man--mental and moral; but the charm is broken and the object lost +if the remote consequence is consciously pursued to the exclusion +of the immediate end. It will not, I suppose, be denied that the +beauties of nature are at least as well qualified to minister to +our higher needs as are the beauties of literature. Yet we do not +say we are going to walk to the top of such and such a hill in +order to drink in "spiritual sustenance." We say we are going to +look at the view. And I am convinced that this, which is the +natural and simple way of considering literature as well as nature, +is also the true way. The habit of always requiring some reward for +knowledge beyond the knowledge itself, be that reward some material +prize or be it what is vaguely called self-improvement, is one with +which I confess I have little sympathy, fostered though it is by +the whole scheme of our modern education. Do not suppose that I +desire the impossible. I would not if I could destroy the +examination system. But there are times, I confess, when I feel +tempted somewhat to vary the prayer of the poet, and to ask whether +Heaven has not reserved, in pity to this much-educating generation, +some peaceful desert of literature as yet unclaimed by the crammer +or the coach; where it might be possible for the student to wander, +even perhaps to stray, at his own pleasure without finding every +beauty labeled, every difficulty engineered, every nook surveyed, +and a professional cicerone standing at every corner to guide each +succeeding traveler along the same well-worn round. If such a wish +were granted, I would further ask that the domain of knowledge thus +"neutralized" should be the literature of our own country. I grant +to the full that the systematic study of <i>some</i> literature +must be a principal element in the education of youth. But why +should that literature be our own? Why should we brush off the +bloom and freshness from the works to which Englishmen and +Scotchmen most naturally turn for refreshment,--namely, those +written in their own language? Why should we associate them with +the memory of hours spent in weary study; in the effort to remember +for purposes of examination what no human being would wish to +remember for any other; in the struggle to learn something, not +because the learner desires to know it, because he desires some one +else to know that he knows it? This is the dark side of the +examination system; a system necessary and therefore excellent, but +one which does, through the very efficiency and thoroughness of the +drill by which it imparts knowledge, to some extent impair the most +delicate pleasures by which the acquisition of knowledge should be +attended.</p> +<p>How great those pleasures may be, I trust there are many here +who can testify. When I compare the position of the reader of +to-day with that of his predecessor of the sixteenth century. I am +amazed at the ingratitude of those who are tempted even for a +moment to regret the invention of printing and the multiplication +of books. There is now no mood of mind to which a man may not +administer the appropriate nutriment or medicine at the cost of +reaching down a volume from his bookshelf. In every department of +knowledge infinitely more is known, and what is known is +incomparably more accessible, than it was to our ancestors. The +lighter forms of literature, good, bad, and indifferent, which have +added so vastly to the happiness of mankind, have increased beyond +powers of computation; nor do I believe that there is any reason to +think that they have elbowed out their more serious and important +brethren. It is perfectly possible for a man, not a professed +student, and who only gives to reading the leisure hours of a +business life, to acquire such a general knowledge of the laws of +nature and the facts of history that every great advance made in +either department shall be to him both intelligible and +interesting; and he may besides have among his familiar friends +many a departed worthy whose memory is embalmed in the pages of +memoir or biography. All this is ours for the asking. All this we +shall ask for, if only it be our happy fortune to love for its own +sake the beauty and the knowledge to be gathered from books. And if +this be our fortune, the world may be kind or unkind, it may seem +to us to be hastening on the wings of enlightenment and progress to +an imminent millennium, or it may weigh us down with the sense of +insoluble difficulty and irremediable wrong; but whatever else it +be, so long as we have good health and a good library, it can +hardly be dull.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>THE <a name="BALLAD"></a>BALLAD</h2> +<center>(Popular or Communal)</center> +<br> +<center>BY F.B. GUMMERE</center> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>he popular ballad, as it is understood for the purpose of these +selections, is a narrative in lyric form, with no traces of +individual authorship, and is preserved mainly by oral tradition. +In its earliest stages it was meant to be sung by a crowd, and got +its name from the dance to which it furnished the sole musical +accompaniment. In these primitive communities the ballad was +doubtless chanted by the entire folk, in festivals mainly of a +religious character. Explorers still meet something of the sort in +savage tribes: and children's games preserve among us some relics +of this protoplasmic form of verse-making, in which the single poet +or artist was practically unknown, and spontaneous, improvised +verses arose out of the occasion itself; in which the whole +community took part; and in which the beat of foot--along with the +gesture which expressed narrative elements of the song--was +inseparable from the words and the melody. This native growth of +song, in which the chorus or refrain, the dance of a festal +multitude, and the spontaneous nature of the words, were vital +conditions, gradually faded away before the advance of cultivated +verse and the vigor of production in what one may call poetry of +the schools. Very early in the history of the ballad, a demand for +more art must have called out or at least emphasized the artist, +the poet, who chanted new verses while the throng kept up the +refrain or burden. Moreover, as interest was concentrated upon the +words or story, people began to feel that both dance and melody +were separable if not alien features; and thus they demanded the +composed and recited ballad, to the harm and ultimate ruin of that +spontaneous song for the festal, dancing crowd. Still, even when +artistry had found a footing in ballad verse, it long remained mere +agent and mouthpiece for the folk; the communal character of the +ballad was maintained in form and matter. Events of interest were +sung in almost contemporary and entirely improvised verse; and the +resulting ballads, carried over the borders of their community and +passed down from generation to generation, served as newspaper to +their own times and as chronicle to posterity. It is the kind of +song to which Tacitus bears witness as the sole form of history +among the early Germans; and it is evident that such a stock of +ballads must have furnished considerable raw material to the epic. +Ballads, in whatever original shape, went to the making of the +English 'Béowulf,' of the German 'Nibelungenlied.' Moreover, +a study of dramatic poetry leads one back to similar communal +origins. What is loosely called a "chorus,"--originally, as the +name implies, a dance--out of which older forms of the drama were +developed, could be traced back to identity with primitive forms of +the ballad. The purely lyrical ballad, even, the <i>chanson</i> of +the people, so rare in English but so abundant among other races, +is evidently a growth from the same root.</p> +<p>If, now, we assume for this root the name of communal poem, and +if we bear in mind the dominant importance of the individual, the +artist, in advancing stages of poetry, it is easy to understand why +for civilized and lettered communities the ballad has ceased to +have any vitality whatever. Under modern conditions the making of +ballads is a closed account. For our times poetry means something +written by a poet, and not something sung more or less +spontaneously by a dancing throng. Indeed, paper and ink, the +agents of preservation in the case of ordinary verse, are for +ballads the agents of destruction. The broadside press of three +centuries ago, while it rescued here and there a genuine ballad, +poured out a mass of vulgar imitations which not only displaced and +destroyed the ballad of oral tradition, but brought contempt upon +good and bad alike. Poetry of the people, to which our ballad +belongs, is a thing of the past. Even rude and distant communities, +like those of Afghanistan, cannot give us the primitive conditions. +The communal ballad is rescued, when rescued at all, by the fragile +chances of a written copy or of oral tradition; and we are obliged +to study it under terms of artistic poetry,--that is, we are forced +to take through the eye and the judgment what was meant for the ear +and immediate sensation. Poetry <i>for</i> the people, however, +"popular poetry" in the modern phrase, is a very different affair. +Street songs, vulgar rhymes, or even improvisations of the +concert-halls, tawdry and sentimental stuff,--these things are +sundered by the world's width from poetry <i>of</i> the people, +from the folk in verse, whether it echo in a great epos which +chants the clash of empires or linger in a ballad of the +countryside sung under the village linden. For this ballad is a +part of the poetry which comes from the people as a whole, from a +homogeneous folk, large or small; while the song of street or +concert-hall is deliberately composed for a class, a section, of +the community. It would therefore be better to use some other term +than "popular" when we wish to specify the ballad of tradition, and +so avoid all taint of vulgarity and the trivial. Nor must we go to +the other extreme. Those high-born people who figure in traditional +ballads--Childe Waters, Lady Maisry, and the rest--do not require +us to assume composition in aristocratic circles; for the lower +classes of the people in ballad days had no separate literature, +and a ballad of the folk belonged to the community as a whole. The +same habit of thought, the same standard of action, ruled alike the +noble and his meanest retainer. Oral transmission, the test of the +ballad, is of course nowhere possible save in such an unlettered +community. Since all critics are at one in regard to this +homogeneous character of the folk with whom and out of whom these +songs had their birth, one is justified in removing all doubt from +the phrase by speaking not of the popular ballad but of the +communal ballad, the ballad of a community.</p> +<p>With regard to the making of a ballad, one must repeat a +caution, hinted already, and made doubly important by a vicious +tendency in the study of all phases of culture. It is a vital +mistake to explain primitive conditions by exact analogy with +conditions of modern savagery and barbarism. Certain conclusions, +always guarded and cautious to a degree, may indeed be drawn; but +it is folly to insist that what now goes on among shunted races, +belated detachments in the great march of culture, must have gone +on among the dominant and mounting peoples who had reached the same +external conditions of life. The homogeneous and unlettered state +of the ballad-makers is not to be put on a level with the ignorance +of barbarism, nor explained by the analogy of songs among modern +savage tribes. Fortunately we have better material. The making of a +ballad by a community can be illustrated from a case recorded by +Pastor Lyngbye in his invaluable account of life on the Faroe +Islands a century ago. Not only had the islanders used from most +ancient times their traditional and narrative songs as music for +the dance, but they had also maintained the old fashion of making a +ballad. In the winter, says Lyngbye, dancing is their chief +amusement and is an affair of the entire community. At such a +dance, one or more persons begin to sing; then all who are present +join in the ballad, or at least in the refrain. As they dance, they +show by their gestures and expression that they follow with +eagerness the course of the story which they are singing. More than +this, the ballad is often a spontaneous product of the occasion. A +fisherman, who has had some recent mishap with his boat, is pushed +by stalwart comrades into the middle of the throng, while the +dancers sing verses about him and his lack of skill,--verses +improvised on the spot and with a catching and clamorous refrain. +If these verses win favor, says Lyngbye, they are repeated from +year to year, with slight additions or corrections, and become a +permanent ballad. Bearing in mind the extraordinary readiness to +improvise shown even in these days by peasants in every part of +Europe, we thus gain some definite notion about the spontaneous and +communal elements which went to the making of the best type of +primitive verse; for these Faroe islanders were no savages, but +simply a homeogeneous and isolated folk which still held to the old +ways of communal song.</p> +<p>Critics of the ballad, moreover, agree that it has little or no +subjective traits,--an easy inference from the conditions just +described. There is no individuality lurking behind the words of +the ballad, and above all, no evidence of that individuality in the +form of sentiment. Sentiment and individuality are the very essence +of modern poetry, and the direct result of individualism in verse. +Given a poet, sentiment--and it may be noble and precious +enough--is sure to follow. But the ballad, an epic in little, +forces one's attention to the object, the scene, the story, and +away from the maker.</p> +<blockquote>"The king sits in Dumferling town."</blockquote> +<p>begins one of the noblest of all ballads; while one of the +greatest of modern poems opens with something personal and +pathetic, key-note to all that follows:--</p> +<blockquote>"My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains<br> +My sense ..."</blockquote> +<p>Even when a great poet essays the ballad, either he puts +sentiment into it, or else he keeps sentiment out of it by a +<i>tour de force</i>. Admirable and noble as one must call the +conclusion of an artistic ballad such as Tennyson's 'Revenge,' it +is altogether different from the conclusion of such a communal +ballad as 'Sir Patrick Spens.' That subtle quality of the ballad +which lies in solution with the story and which--as in 'Child +Maurice' or 'Babylon' or 'Edward'--compels in us sensations akin to +those called out by the sentiment of the poet, is a wholly +impersonal if strangely effective quality, far removed from the +corresponding elements of the poem of art. At first sight, one +might say that Browning's dramatic lyrics had this impersonal +quality. But compare the close of 'Give a Rouse,' chorus and all, +with the close of 'Child Maurice,' that swift and relentless stroke +of pure tragedy which called out the enthusiasm of so great a +critic as Gray.</p> +<p>The narrative of the communal ballad is full of leaps and +omissions; the style is simple to a fault; the diction is +spontaneous and free. Assonance frequently takes the place of +rhyme, and a word often rhymes with itself. There is a lack of +poetic adornment in the style quite as conspicuous as the lack of +reflection and moralizing in the matter. Metaphor and simile are +rare and when found are for the most part standing phrases common +to all the ballads; there is never poetry for poetry's sake. +Iteration is the chief mark of ballad style; and the favorite form +of this effective figure is what one may call incremental +repetition. The question is repeated with the answer; each +increment in a series of related facts has a stanza for itself, +identical, save for the new fact, with the other stanzas. 'Babylon' +furnishes good instances of this progressive iteration. Moreover, +the ballad differs from earlier English epics in that it invariably +has stanzas and rhyme; of the two forms of stanza, the two-line +stanza with a refrain is probably older than the stanza with four +or six lines.</p> +<p>This necessary quality of the stanza points to the origin of the +ballad in song; but longer ballads, such as those that make up the +'Gest of Robin Hood,' an epic in little, were not sung as lyrics or +to aid the dance, but were either chanted in a monotonous fashion +or else recited outright. Chappell, in his admirable work on old +English music ('Music of the Olden Time,' ii. 790), names a third +class of "characteristic airs of England,"--the "historical and +very long ballads, ... invariably of simple construction, usually +plaintive.... They were rarely if ever used for dancing." Most of +the longer ballads, however, were doubtless given by one person in +a sort of recitative; this is the case with modern ballads of +Russia and Servia, where the bystanders now and then join in a +chorus. Precisely in the same way ballads were divorced from the +dance, originally their vital condition; but in the refrain, which +is attached to so many ballads, one finds an element which has +survived from those earliest days of communal song.</p> +<p>Of oldest communal poetry no actual ballad has come down to us. +Hints and even fragments, however, are pointed out in ancient +records, mainly as the material of chronicle or legend. In the +Bible (Numbers xxi. 17), where "Israel sang this song," we are not +going too far when we regard the fragment as part of a communal +ballad. "Spring up, O well: sing ye unto it: the princes digged the +well, the nobles of the people digged it, by the direction of the +lawgiver, with their staves." Deborah's song has something of the +communal note; and when Miriam dances and sings with her maidens, +one is reminded of the many ballads made by dancing and singing +bands of women in mediæval Europe,--for instance, the song +made in the seventh century to the honor of St. Faro, and "sung by +the women as they danced and clapped their hands." The question of +ancient Greek ballads, and their relation to the epic, is not to be +discussed here; nor can we make more than an allusion to the theory +of Niebuhr that the early part of Livy is founded on, old Roman +ballads. A popular discussion of this matter may be found in +Macaulay's preface to his own 'Lays of Ancient Rome.' The ballads +of modern Europe are a survival of older communal poetry, more or +less influenced by artistic and individual conditions of +authorship, but wholly impersonal, and with an appeal to our +interest which seems to come from a throng and not from the +solitary poet. Attention was early called to the ballads of Spain; +printed at first as broadsides, they were gathered into a volume as +early as 1550. On the other hand, ballads were neglected in France +until very recent times; for specimens of the French ballad, and +for an account of it, the reader should consult Professor Crane's +'Chansons Populaires de France,' New York, 1891. It is with ballads +of the Germanic race, however, that we are now concerned. Denmark, +Norway, Sweden, Iceland, the Faroe Islands; Scotland and England; +the Netherlands and Germany: all of these countries offer us +admirable specimens of the ballad. Particularly, the great +collections of Grundtvig ('Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser') for Denmark, +and of Child ('The English and Scottish Popular Ballads') for our +own tongue, show how common descent or borrowing connects the +individual ballads of these groups. "Almost every Norwegian, +Swedish, or Icelandic ballad," says Grundtvig, "is found in a +Danish version of Scandinavian ballads; moreover, a larger number +can be found in English and Scottish versions than in German or +Dutch versions." Again, we find certain national preferences in the +character of the ballads which have come down to us. Scandinavia +kept the old heroic lays (Kaempeviser); Germany wove them into her +epic, as witness the Nibelungen Lay; but England and Scotland have +none of them in any shape. So, too, the mythic ballad, scantily +represented in English, and practically unknown in Germany, abounds +in Scandinavian collections. The Faroe Islands and Norway, as +Grundtvig tells us, show the best record for ballads preserved by +oral tradition; while noble ladies of Denmark, three or four +centuries ago, did high service to ballad literature by making +collections in manuscript of the songs current then in the castle +as in the cottage.</p> +<p>For England, one is compelled to begin the list of known ballads +with the thirteenth century. 'The Battle of Maldon,' composed in +the last decade of the tenth century, though spirited enough and +full of communal vigor, has no stanzaic structure, follows in metre +and style the rules of the Old English epic, and is only a ballad +by courtesy; about the ballads used a century or two later by +historians of England, we can do nothing but guess; and there is no +firm ground under the critic's foot until he comes to the Robin +Hood ballads, which Professor Child assigns to the thirteenth +century. 'The Battle of Otterburn' (1388) opens a series of ballads +based on actual events and stretching into the eighteenth century. +Barring the Robin Hood cycle,--an epic constructed from this +attractive material lies before us in the famous 'Gest of Robin +Hood,' printed as early as 1489,--the chief sources of the +collector are the Percy Manuscript, "written just before 1650,"--on +which, not without omissions and additions, the bishop based his +'Reliques,' first published in 1765,--and the oral traditions of +Scotland, which Professor Child refers to "the last one hundred and +thirty years." Information about the individual ballads, their +sources, history, literary connections, and above all, their +varying texts, must be sought in the noble work of Professor F.J. +Child. For present purposes, a word or two of general information +must suffice. As to origins, there is a wide range. The church +furnished its legend, as in 'St. Stephen'; romance contributed the +story of 'Thomas Rymer'; and the light, even cynical <i>fabliau</i> +is responsible for 'The Boy and the Mantle.' Ballads which occur in +many tongues either may have a common origin or else may owe their +manifold versions, as in the case of popular tales, to a love of +borrowing; and here, of course, we get the hint of wider issues. +For the most part, however, a ballad tells some moving story, +preferably of fighting and of love. Tragedy is the dominant note; +and English ballads of the best type deal with those elements of +domestic disaster so familiar in the great dramas of literature, in +the story of Orestes, or of Hamlet, or of the Cid. Such are +'Edward,' 'Lord Randal,' 'The Two Brothers,' 'The Two Sisters,' +'Child Maurice,' 'Bewick and Graham,' 'Clerk Colven,' 'Little +Musgrave and Lady Barnard,' 'Glasgerion,' and many others. Another +group of ballads, represented by the 'Baron of Brackley' and +'Captain Car,' give a faithful picture of the feuds and ceaseless +warfare in Scotland and on the border. A few fine ballads--'Sweet +William's Ghost,' 'The Wife of Usher's Well'--touch upon the +supernatural. Of the romantic ballads, 'Childe Waters' shows us the +higher, and 'Young Beichan' the lower, but still sound and communal +type. Incipient dramatic tendencies mark 'Edward' and 'Lord +Randal'; while, on the other hand, a lyric note almost carries +'Bonnie George Campbell' out of balladry. Finally, it is to be +noted that in the 'Nut-Brown Maid,' which many would unhesitatingly +refer to this class of poetry, we have no ballad at all, but a +dramatic lyric, probably written by a woman, and with a special +plea in the background.</p> +<p class="sign"><img src="images/sign366.png" width="50%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_1"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3"><b>ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE</b><a name= +"FNanchor8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8">[8]</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. When shawes<a name="FNanchor9"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_9">[9]</a> beene sheene<a name="FNanchor10"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_10">[10]</a>, and shradds<a name= +"FNanchor11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11">[11]</a> full fayre,</p> +<p class="i5">And leeves both large and longe,</p> +<p class="i4">It is merry, walking in the fayre forrest,</p> +<p class="i5">To heare the small birds' songe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. The woodweele<a name="FNanchor12"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_12">[12]</a> sang, and wold not cease,</p> +<p class="i5">Amongst the leaves a lyne<a name= +"FNanchor13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13">[13]</a>;</p> +<p class="i4">And it is by two wight<a name= +"FNanchor14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14">[14]</a> yeomen,</p> +<p class="i5">By deare God, that I meane.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 25%;"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. "Me thought they<a name="FNanchor15"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_15">[15]</a> did me beate and binde,</p> +<p class="i5">And tooke my bow me fro;</p> +<p class="i4">If I bee Robin alive in this lande,</p> +<p class="i5">I'll be wrocken<a name="FNanchor16"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_16">[16]</a> on both them two."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. "Sweavens<a name="FNanchor17"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_17">[17]</a> are swift, master," quoth John,</p> +<p class="i5">"As the wind that blowes ore a hill;</p> +<p class="i4">For if it be never soe lowde this night,</p> +<p class="i5">To-morrow it may be still."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. "Buske ye, bowne ye<a name= +"FNanchor18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18">[18]</a>, my merry men +all,</p> +<p class="i5">For John shall go with me;</p> +<p class="i4">For I'll goe seeke yond wight yeomen</p> +<p class="i5">In greenwood where they bee."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. They cast on their gowne of greene,</p> +<p class="i5">A shooting gone are they,</p> +<p class="i4">Until they came to the merry greenwood,</p> +<p class="i5">Where they had gladdest bee;</p> +<p class="i4">There were they ware of a wight yeoman,</p> +<p class="i5">His body leaned to a tree.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">7. A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,</p> +<p class="i5">Had beene many a man's bane<a name= +"FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19">[19]</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">And he was cladd in his capull-hyde<a name= +"FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20">[20]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">Topp, and tayle, and mayne.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">8. "Stand you still, master," quoth Litle John,</p> +<p class="i5">"Under this trusty tree,</p> +<p class="i4">And I will goe to yond wight yeoman,</p> +<p class="i5">To know his meaning trulye."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">9. "A, John, by me thou setts noe store,</p> +<p class="i5">And that's a farley<a name="FNanchor21"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_21">[21]</a> thinge;</p> +<p class="i4">How offt send I my men before,</p> +<p class="i5">And tarry myselfe behinde?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">10. "It is noe cunning a knave to ken,</p> +<p class="i5">And a man but heare him speake;</p> +<p class="i4">And it were not for bursting of my bowe,</p> +<p class="i5">John, I wold thy head breake."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">11. But often words they breeden bale,</p> +<p class="i5">That parted Robin and John;</p> +<p class="i4">John is gone to Barnesdale,</p> +<p class="i5">The gates<a name="FNanchor22"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_22">[22]</a> he knowes eche one.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">12. And when hee came to Barnesdale,</p> +<p class="i5">Great heavinesse there hee hadd;</p> +<p class="i4">He found two of his fellowes</p> +<p class="i5">Were slaine both in a slade<a name= +"FNanchor23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23">[23]</a>,</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">13. And Scarlett a foote flyinge was,</p> +<p class="i5">Over stockes and stone,</p> +<p class="i4">For the sheriffe with seven score men</p> +<p class="i5">Fast after him is gone.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">14. "Yet one shoote I'll shoote," sayes Litle +John,</p> +<p class="i5">"With Crist his might and mayne;</p> +<p class="i4">I'll make yond fellow that flyes soe fast</p> +<p class="i5">To be both glad and faine."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">15. John bent up a good veiwe bow<a name= +"FNanchor24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24">[24]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">And fetteled<a name="FNanchor25"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_25">[25]</a> him to shoote;</p> +<p class="i4">The bow was made of a tender boughe,</p> +<p class="i5">And fell downe to his foote.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">16. "Woe worth<a name="FNanchor26"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_26">[26]</a> thee, wicked wood," sayd Litle John,</p> +<p class="i5">"That ere thou grew on a tree!</p> +<p class="i4">For this day thou art my bale,</p> +<p class="i5">My boote<a name="FNanchor27"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_27">[27]</a> when thou shold bee!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">17. This shoote it was but looselye shott,</p> +<p class="i5">The arrowe flew in vaine,</p> +<p class="i4">And it mett one of the sheriffe's men;</p> +<p class="i5">Good William a Trent was slaine.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">18. It had beene better for William a Trent</p> +<p class="i5">To hange upon a gallowe</p> +<p class="i4">Then for to lye in the greenwoode,</p> +<p class="i5">There slaine with an arrowe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">19. And it is sayed, when men be mett,</p> +<p class="i5">Six can doe more than three:</p> +<p class="i4">And they have tane Litle John,</p> +<p class="i5">And bound him fast to a tree.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">20. "Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe," quoth +the sheriffe<a name="FNanchor28"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_28">[28]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">"And hanged hye on a hill:"</p> +<p class="i4">"But thou may fayle," quoth Litle John</p> +<p class="i5">"If it be Christ's owne will."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">21. Let us leave talking of Litle John,</p> +<p class="i5">For hee is bound fast to a tree,</p> +<p class="i4">And talke of Guy and Robin Hood</p> +<p class="i5">In the green woode where they bee.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">22. How these two yeomen together they mett,</p> +<p class="i5">Under the leaves of lyne,</p> +<p class="i4">To see what marchandise they made</p> +<p class="i5">Even at that same time.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">23. "Good morrow, good fellow," quoth Sir Guy;</p> +<p class="i5">"Good morrow, good fellow," quoth hee;</p> +<p class="i4">"Methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand,</p> +<p class="i5">A good archer thou seems to bee."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">24. "I am wilfull of my way<a name= +"FNanchor29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29">[29]</a>," quoth Sir +Guy,</p> +<p class="i5">"And of my morning tyde:"</p> +<p class="i4">"I'll lead thee through the wood," quoth Robin,</p> +<p class="i5">"Good fellow, I'll be thy guide."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">25. "I seeke an outlaw," quoth Sir Guy,</p> +<p class="i5">"Men call him Robin Hood;</p> +<p class="i4">I had rather meet with him upon a day</p> +<p class="i5">Then forty pound of golde."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">26. "If you tow mett, it wold be seene whether were +better</p> +<p class="i5">Afore yee did part awaye;</p> +<p class="i4">Let us some other pastime find,</p> +<p class="i5">Good fellow, I thee pray."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">27. "Let us some other masteryes make,</p> +<p class="i5">And we will walke in the woods even;</p> +<p class="i4">Wee may chance meet with Robin Hood</p> +<p class="i5">At some unsett steven<a name= +"FNanchor30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30">[30]</a>."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">28. They cutt them downe the summer shroggs<a name= +"FNanchor31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31">[31]</a></p> +<p class="i5">Which grew both under a bryar,</p> +<p class="i4">And sett them three score rood in twinn<a name= +"FNanchor32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32">[32]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">To shoote the prickes<a name= +"FNanchor33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33">[33]</a> full neare.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">29. "Leade on, good fellow," sayd Sir Guye,</p> +<p class="i5">"Leade on, I doe bidd thee:"</p> +<p class="i4">"Nay, by my faith," quoth Robin Hood,</p> +<p class="i5">"The leader thou shalt bee."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">30. The first good shoot that Robin ledd,</p> +<p class="i5">Did not shoote an inch the pricke froe,</p> +<p class="i4">Guy was an archer good enoughe,</p> +<p class="i5">But he could neere shoote soe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">31. The second shoote Sir Guy shott,</p> +<p class="i5">He shott within the garlande<a name= +"FNanchor34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34">[34]</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">But Robin Hoode shott it better than hee,</p> +<p class="i5">For he clove the good pricke-wande.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">32. "God's blessing on thy heart!" sayes Guye,</p> +<p class="i5">"Goode fellow, thy shooting is goode;</p> +<p class="i4">For an thy hart be as good as thy hands,</p> +<p class="i5">Thou were better than Robin Hood."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">33. "Tell me thy name, good fellow," quoth Guye,</p> +<p class="i5">"Under the leaves of lyne:"</p> +<p class="i4">"Nay, by my faith," quoth good Robin,</p> +<p class="i5">"Till thou have told me thine."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">34. "I dwell by dale and downe," quoth Guye,</p> +<p class="i5">"And I have done many a curst turne;</p> +<p class="i4">And he that calles me by my right name,</p> +<p class="i5">Calles me Guye of good Gysborne."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">35. "My dwelling is in the wood," sayes Robin;</p> +<p class="i5">"By thee I set right nought;</p> +<p class="i4">My name is Robin Hood of Barnesdale,</p> +<p class="i5">A fellow thou hast long sought."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">36. He that had neither beene a kithe nor kin</p> +<p class="i5">Might have seene a full fayre sight.</p> +<p class="i4">To see how together these yeomen went,</p> +<p class="i5">With blades both browne and bright.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">37. To have seene how these yeomen together +fought</p> +<p class="i5">Two howers of a summer's day;</p> +<p class="i4">It was neither Guy nor Robin Hood</p> +<p class="i5">That fettled them to flye away.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">38. Robin was reacheles<a name= +"FNanchor35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35">[35]</a> on a roote,</p> +<p class="i5">And stumbled at that tyde,</p> +<p class="i4">And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all,</p> +<p class="i5">And hitt him ore the left side.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">39. "Ah, deere Lady!" sayd Robin Hoode,</p> +<p class="i5">"Thou art both mother and may<a name= +"FNanchor36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36">[36]</a>!</p> +<p class="i4">I thinke it was never man's destinye</p> +<p class="i5">To dye before his day."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">40. Robin thought on Our Lady deere,</p> +<p class="i5">And soone leapt up againe,</p> +<p class="i4">And thus he came with an awkwarde<a name= +"FNanchor37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37">[37]</a> stroke;</p> +<p class="i5">Good Sir Guy hee has slayne.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">41. He tooke Sir Guy's head by the hayre,</p> +<p class="i5">And sticked it on his bowe's end:</p> +<p class="i4">"Thou has beene traytor all thy life,</p> +<p class="i5">Which thing must have an ende."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">42. Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe,</p> +<p class="i5">And nicked Sir Guy in the face,</p> +<p class="i4">That he was never on<a name="FNanchor38"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_38">[38]</a> a woman borne</p> +<p class="i5">Could tell who Sir Guye was.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">43. Saies, Lye there, lye there, good Sir Guye,</p> +<p class="i5">And with me not wrothe;</p> +<p class="i4">If thou have had the worse stroakes at my hand,</p> +<p class="i5">Thou shalt have the better cloathe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">44. Robin did off his gowne of greene,</p> +<p class="i5">Sir Guye he did it throwe;</p> +<p class="i4">And he put on that capull-hyde</p> +<p class="i5">That clad him topp to toe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">45. "Tis bowe, the arrowes, and litle horne,</p> +<p class="i5">And with me now I'll beare;</p> +<p class="i4">For now I will goe to Barnesdale,</p> +<p class="i5">To see how my men doe fare."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">46. Robin sett Guye's horne to his mouth,</p> +<p class="i5">A lowd blast in it he did blow;</p> +<p class="i4">That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,</p> +<p class="i5">As he leaned under a lowe<a name= +"FNanchor39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39">[39]</a>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">47. "Hearken! hearken!" sayd the sheriffe,</p> +<p class="i5">"I heard noe tydings but good;</p> +<p class="i4">For yonder I heare Sir Guye's horne blowe,</p> +<p class="i5">For he hath slaine Robin Hoode."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">48. "For yonder I heare Sir Guye's horne blowe,</p> +<p class="i5">It blowes soe well in tyde,</p> +<p class="i4">For yonder conies that wighty yeoman</p> +<p class="i5">Cladd in his capull-hyde."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">49. "Come hither, thou good Sir Guy,</p> +<p class="i5">Aske of mee what thou wilt have:"</p> +<p class="i4">"I'll none of thy gold," sayes Robin Hood,</p> +<p class="i5">"Nor I'll none of it have."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">50. "But now I have slaine the master," he sayd,</p> +<p class="i5">"Let me goe strike the knave;</p> +<p class="i4">This is all the reward I aske,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor noe other will I have."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">51. "Thou art a madman," said the sheriffe,</p> +<p class="i5">"Thou sholdest have had a knight's fee;</p> +<p class="i4">Seeing thy asking hath beene soe badd,</p> +<p class="i5">Well granted it shall be."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">52. But Litle John heard his master speake,</p> +<p class="i5">Well he knew that was his steven<a name= +"FNanchor40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40">[40]</a>;</p> +<p class="i4">"Now shall I be loset," quoth Litle John,</p> +<p class="i5">"With Christ's might in heaven."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">53. But Robin hee hyed him towards Litle John,</p> +<p class="i5">Hee thought hee wold loose him belive;</p> +<p class="i4">The sheriffe and all his companye</p> +<p class="i5">Fast after him did drive.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">54. "Stand abacke! stand abacke!" sayd Robin;</p> +<p class="i5">"Why draw you mee soe neere?</p> +<p class="i4">It was never the use in our countrye</p> +<p class="i5">One's shrift another should heere."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">55. But Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffe,</p> +<p class="i5">And losed John hand and foote,</p> +<p class="i4">And gave him Sir Guye's bow in his hand,</p> +<p class="i5">And bade it be his boote.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">56. But John tooke Guye's bow in his hand</p> +<p class="i5">(His arrowes were rawstye<a name= +"FNanchor41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41">[41]</a> by the roote);</p> +<p class="i4">The sherriffe saw Litle John draw a bow</p> +<p class="i5">And fettle him to shoote.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">57. Towards his house in Nottingham</p> +<p class="i5">He fled full fast away,</p> +<p class="i4">And so did all his companye,</p> +<p class="i5">Not one behind did stay.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">58. But he cold neither soe fast goe,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor away soe fast runn,</p> +<p class="i4">But Litle John, with an arrow broade,</p> +<p class="i5">Did cleave his heart in twinn.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor8">[8]</a> +This ballad is a good specimen of the Robin Hood Cycle, and is +remarkable for its many proverbial and alliterative phrases. A few +lines have been lost between stanzas 2 and 3. Gisborne is a +"market-town in the West Riding of the County of York, on the +borders of Lancashire." For the probable tune of the ballad, see +Chappell's 'Popular Music of the Olden Time,' ii. 397.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor9">[9]</a> +Woods, groves.--This touch of description at the outset is common +in our old ballads, as well as in the mediæval German popular +lyric, and may perhaps spring from the old "summer-lays" and chorus +of pagan times.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_10"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor10">[10]</a> Beautiful; German, +<i>schön</i>.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_11"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor11">[11]</a> Coppices or openings in a wood.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_12"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor12">[12]</a> In some glossaries the woodpecker, but here +of course a song-bird,--perhaps, as Chappell suggests, the +woodlark.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_13"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor13">[13]</a> <i>A</i>, on; <i>lyne</i>, lime or +linden.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_14"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor14">[14]</a> Sturdy, brave.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_15"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor15">[15]</a> Robin now tells of a dream in which "they" +(=the two "wight yeomen," who are Guy and, as Professor Child +suggests, the Sheriff of Nottingham) maltreat him; and he thus +foresees trouble "from two quarters."</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_16"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor16">[16]</a> Revenged.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_17"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor17">[17]</a> Dreams.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_18"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor18">[18]</a> Tautological phrase,--"prepare and make +ready."</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_19"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor19">[19]</a> Murder, destruction.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_20"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor20">[20]</a> Horse's hide.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_21"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor21">[21]</a> Strange.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_22"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor22">[22]</a> Paths.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_23"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor23">[23]</a> Green valley between woods.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_24"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor24">[24]</a> Perhaps the yew-bow.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_25"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor25">[25]</a> Made ready.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_26"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor26">[26]</a> "Woe be to thee." <i>Worth</i> is the old +subjunctive present of an exact English equivalent to the modern +German <i>werden</i>.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_27"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor27">[27]</a> Note these alliterative phrases. +<i>Boote</i>, remedy.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_28"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor28">[28]</a> As Percy noted, this "quoth the sheriffe," +was probably added by some explainer. The reader, however, must +remember the license of slurring or contracting the syllables of a +word, as well as the opposite freedom of expansion. Thus in the +second line of stanza 7, <i>man's</i> is to be pronounced +<i>man-ës.</i></blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_29"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor29">[29]</a> I have lost my way.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_30"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor30">[30]</a> At some unappointed time,--by +chance.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_31"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor31">[31]</a> Stunted shrubs.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_32"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor32">[32]</a> Apart.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_33"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor33">[33]</a> "<i>Prickes</i> seem to have been the +long-range targets, <i>butts</i> the +near."--Furnivall.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_34"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor34">[34]</a> <i>Garlande</i>, perhaps "the ring within +which the prick was set"; and the <i>pricke-wande</i> perhaps a +pole or stick. The terms are not easy to understand +clearly.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_35"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor35">[35]</a> Reckless, careless.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_36"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor36">[36]</a> Maiden.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_37"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor37">[37]</a> Dangerous, or perhaps simply backward, +backhanded.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_38"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor38">[38]</a> <i>On</i> is frequently used for +<i>of</i>.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_39"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor39">[39]</a> Hillock.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_40"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor40">[40]</a> Voice.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_41"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor41">[41]</a> Rusty</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_2"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>[This is the older and better version of the famous ballad. The +younger version was the subject of Addison's papers in the +Spectator.]</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. The Percy out of Northumberlande,</p> +<p class="i5">and a vowe to God mayd he</p> +<p class="i4">That he would hunte in the mountayns</p> +<p class="i5">of Cheviot within days thre,</p> +<p class="i4">In the magger<a name="FNanchor42"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_42">[42]</a> of doughty Douglas,</p> +<p class="i5">and all that ever with him be.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. The fattiste hartes in all Cheviot</p> +<p class="i5">he sayd he would kyll, and cary them away:</p> +<p class="i4">"Be my feth," sayd the doughty Douglas agayn,</p> +<p class="i5">"I will let<a name="FNanchor43"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_43">[43]</a> that hontyng if that I may."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. Then the Percy out of Banborowe cam,</p> +<p class="i5">with him a myghtee meany<a name= +"FNanchor44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44">[44]</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">With fifteen hondred archares bold of blood and +bone;</p> +<p class="i5">they were chosen out of shyars thre.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. This began on a Monday at morn,</p> +<p class="i5">in Cheviot the hillys so he;</p> +<p class="i4">The chyld may rue that ys unborn,</p> +<p class="i5">it was the more pittë.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. The dryvars thorowe the woodës went,</p> +<p class="i5">for to reas the deer;</p> +<p class="i4">Bowmen byckarte uppone the bent<a name= +"FNanchor45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45">[45]</a></p> +<p class="i5">with their browd arrows cleare.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. Then the wyld thorowe the woodës went,</p> +<p class="i5">on every sydë shear;</p> +<p class="i4">Greahondës thorowe the grevis glent<a name= +"FNanchor46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46">[46]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">for to kyll their deer.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">7. This begane in Cheviot the hyls abone,</p> +<p class="i5">yerly on a Monnyn-day;</p> +<p class="i4">Be that it drewe to the hour of noon,</p> +<p class="i5">a hondred fat hartës ded ther lay.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">8. They blewe a mort<a name="FNanchor47"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_47">[47]</a> uppone the bent,</p> +<p class="i5">they semblyde on sydis shear;</p> +<p class="i4">To the quyrry then the Percy went,</p> +<p class="i5">to see the bryttlynge<a name= +"FNanchor48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48">[48]</a> of the deere.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">9. He sayd, "It was the Douglas promys</p> +<p class="i5">this day to met me hear;</p> +<p class="i4">But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;"</p> +<p class="i5">a great oth the Percy swear.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">10. At the laste a squyar of Northumberlande</p> +<p class="i5">lokyde at his hand full ny;</p> +<p class="i4">He was war a the doughtie Douglas commynge,</p> +<p class="i5">with him a myghtë meany.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">11. Both with spear, bylle, and brande,</p> +<p class="i5">yt was a myghtë sight to se;</p> +<p class="i4">Hardyar men, both of hart nor hande,</p> +<p class="i5">were not in Cristiantë.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">12. They were twenty hondred spear-men good,</p> +<p class="i5">withoute any fail;</p> +<p class="i4">They were borne along be the water a Twyde,</p> +<p class="i5">yth bowndës of Tividale.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">13. "Leave of the brytlyng of the deer," he said,</p> +<p class="i5">"and to your bows look ye tayk good hede;</p> +<p class="i4">For never sithe ye were on your mothers borne</p> +<p class="i5">had ye never so mickle nede."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">14. The doughty Douglas on a stede,</p> +<p class="i5">he rode alle his men beforne;</p> +<p class="i4">His armor glytteyrde as dyd a glede<a name= +"FNanchor49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49">[49]</a>;</p> +<p class="i5">a boldar barne was never born.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">15. "Tell me whose men ye are," he says,</p> +<p class="i5">"or whose men that ye be:</p> +<p class="i4">Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Cheviot +chays,</p> +<p class="i5">in the spyt of myn and of me."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">16. The first man that ever him an answer mayd,</p> +<p class="i5">yt was the good lord Percy:</p> +<p class="i4">"We wyll not tell the whose men we are," he says,</p> +<p class="i5">"nor whose men that we be;</p> +<p class="i4">But we wyll hounte here in this chays,</p> +<p class="i5">in spyt of thyne and of the."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">17. "The fattiste hartës in all Cheviot</p> +<p class="i5">we have kyld, and cast to carry them away:"</p> +<p class="i4">"Be my troth," sayd the doughty Douglas agayn,</p> +<p class="i5">"therefor the tone of us shall die this day."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">18. Then sayd the doughtë Douglas</p> +<p class="i5">unto the lord Percy,</p> +<p class="i4">"To kyll alle thes giltles men,</p> +<p class="i5">alas, it wear great pittë!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">19. "But, Percy, thowe art a lord of lande,</p> +<p class="i5">I am a yerle callyd within my contrë;</p> +<p class="i4">Let all our men uppone a parti stande,</p> +<p class="i5">and do the battell of the and of me."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">20. "Nowe Cristes curse on his crowne," sayd the lord +Percy,</p> +<p class="i5">"whosoever thereto says nay;</p> +<p class="i4">Be my troth, doughty Douglas," he says,</p> +<p class="i5">"thow shalt never se that day."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">21. "Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nor France,</p> +<p class="i5">nor for no man of a woman born,</p> +<p class="i4">But, and fortune be my chance,</p> +<p class="i5">I dar met him, one man for one."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">22. Then bespayke a squyar of Northumberlande,</p> +<p class="i5">Richard Wytharyngton was his name:</p> +<p class="i4">"It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde," he +says,</p> +<p class="i5">"To Kyng Kerry the Fourth for shame."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">23. "I wat youe byn great lordës twa,</p> +<p class="i5">I am a poor squyar of lande:</p> +<p class="i4">I wylle never se my captayne fyght on a fylde,</p> +<p class="i5">and stande my selffe and looke on,</p> +<p class="i4">But whylle I may my weppone welde,</p> +<p class="i5">I wylle not fayle both hart and hande."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">24. That day, that day, that dredfull day!</p> +<p class="i5">the first fit here I fynde<a name= +"FNanchor50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50">[50]</a>;</p> +<p class="i4">And you wyll hear any more a the hountyng a the +Cheviot</p> +<p class="i5">yet ys ther mor behynde.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">25. The Yngglyshe men had their bowys ybent,</p> +<p class="i5">ther hartes were good yenoughe;</p> +<p class="i4">The first of arrows that they shote off,</p> +<p class="i5">seven skore spear-men they sloughe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">26. Yet bides the yerle Douglas upon the bent,</p> +<p class="i5">a captayne good yenoughe,</p> +<p class="i4">And that was sene verament,</p> +<p class="i5">for he wrought hem both wo and wouche.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">27. The Douglas partyd his host in thre,</p> +<p class="i5">like a chief chieftain of pryde;</p> +<p class="i4">With sure spears of myghtty tre,</p> +<p class="i5">they cum in on every syde:</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">28. Throughe our Yngglyshe archery</p> +<p class="i5">gave many a wounde fulle wyde;</p> +<p class="i4">Many a doughty they garde to dy,</p> +<p class="i5">which ganyde them no pryde.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">29. The Ynglyshe men let ther bowës be,</p> +<p class="i5">and pulde out brandes that were brighte;</p> +<p class="i4">It was a heavy syght to se</p> +<p class="i5">bryght swordes on basnites lyght.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">30. Thorowe ryche male and myneyeple<a name= +"FNanchor51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51">[51]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">many sterne they strocke down straight;</p> +<p class="i4">Many a freyke[52] that was fulle fre,</p> +<p class="i5">there under foot dyd lyght.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">31. At last the Douglas and the Percy met,</p> +<p class="i5">lyk to captayns of myght and of mayne;</p> +<p class="i4">The swapte together tylle they both swat,</p> +<p class="i5">with swordes that were of fine milan.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">32. These worthy freckys for to fyght,</p> +<p class="i5">ther-to they were fulle fayne,</p> +<p class="i4">Tylle the bloode out off their basnetes sprente,</p> +<p class="i5">as ever dyd hail or rayn.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">33. "Yield thee, Percy," sayd the Douglas,</p> +<p class="i5">"and i faith I shalle thee brynge</p> +<p class="i4">Where thowe shalte have a yerls wagis</p> +<p class="i5">of Jamy our Scottish kynge."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">34. "Thou shalte have thy ransom fre,</p> +<p class="i5">I hight<a name="FNanchor53"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_53">[53]</a> the here this thinge;</p> +<p class="i4">For the manfullyste man yet art thow</p> +<p class="i5">that ever I conqueryd in fielde fighttynge."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">35. "Nay," sayd the lord Percy,</p> +<p class="i5">"I tolde it thee beforne,</p> +<p class="i4">That I wolde never yeldyde be</p> +<p class="i5">to no man of a woman born."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">36. With that ther came an arrow hastely,</p> +<p class="i5">forthe off a myghtty wane<a name= +"FNanchor54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54">[54]</a>;</p> +<p class="i4">It hath strekene the yerle Douglas</p> +<p class="i5">in at the brest-bane.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">37. Thorowe lyvar and lungës bothe</p> +<p class="i5">the sharpe arrowe ys gane,</p> +<p class="i4">That never after in all his lyfe-days</p> +<p class="i5">he spayke mo wordës but ane:</p> +<p class="i4">That was, "Fyghte ye, my myrry men, whyllys ye +may,</p> +<p class="i5">for my lyfe-days ben gane."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">38. The Percy leanyde on his brande,</p> +<p class="i5">and sawe the Douglas de;</p> +<p class="i4">He tooke the dead man by the hande,</p> +<p class="i5">and said, "Wo ys me for thee!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">39. "To have savyde thy lyfe, I would have partyde +with</p> +<p class="i5">my landes for years three,</p> +<p class="i4">For a better man, of hart nor of hande,</p> +<p class="i5">was not in all the north contrë."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">40. Of all that see a Scottish knyght,</p> +<p class="i5">was callyd Sir Hewe the Monggombyrry;</p> +<p class="i4">He saw the Douglas to the death was dyght,</p> +<p class="i5">he spendyd a spear, a trusti tree.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">41. He rode upon a corsiare</p> +<p class="i5">throughe a hondred archery;</p> +<p class="i4">He never stynttyde nor never blane<a name= +"FNanchor55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55">[55]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">till he came to the good lord Percy.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">42. He set upon the lorde Percy</p> +<p class="i5">a dynte that was full sore;</p> +<p class="i4">With a sure spear of a myghttë tree</p> +<p class="i5">clean thorow the body he the Percy ber<a name= +"FNanchor56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56">[56]</a>,</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">43. A the tother syde that a man might see</p> +<p class="i5">a large cloth-yard and mare;</p> +<p class="i4">Two better captayns were not in Cristiantë</p> +<p class="i5">than that day slain were there.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">44. An archer off Northumberlande</p> +<p class="i5">saw slain was the lord Percy;</p> +<p class="i4">He bore a bende bowe in his hand,</p> +<p class="i5">was made of trusti tree;</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">45. An arrow, that a cloth-yarde was long,</p> +<p class="i5">to the harde stele halyde he;</p> +<p class="i4">A dynt that was both sad and soar</p> +<p class="i5">he set on Sir Hewe the Monggombyrry.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">46. The dynt yt was both sad and sore,</p> +<p class="i5">that he of Monggombyrry set;</p> +<p class="i4">The swane-fethars that his arrowe bar</p> +<p class="i5">with his hart-blood they were wet.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">47. There was never a freak one foot wolde flee,</p> +<p class="i5">but still in stour<a name="FNanchor57"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_57">[57]</a> dyd stand,</p> +<p class="i4">Hewyng on eache other, whyle they myghte dree,</p> +<p class="i5">with many a balefull brande.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">48. This battell begane in Cheviot</p> +<p class="i5">an hour before the none,</p> +<p class="i4">And when even-songe bell was rang,</p> +<p class="i5">the battell was not half done.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">49. They took ... on either hande</p> +<p class="i5">by the lyght of the mone;</p> +<p class="i4">Many hade no strength for to stande,</p> +<p class="i5">in Cheviot the hillys abon.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">50. Of fifteen hundred archers of Ynglonde</p> +<p class="i5">went away but seventy and three;</p> +<p class="i4">Of twenty hundred spear-men of Scotlonde,</p> +<p class="i5">but even five and fifty.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">51. But all were slayne Cheviot within;</p> +<p class="i5">they had no strength to stand on by;</p> +<p class="i4">The chylde may rue that ys unborne,</p> +<p class="i5">it was the more pittë.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">52. There was slayne, withe the lord Percy,</p> +<p class="i5">Sir John of Agerstone,</p> +<p class="i4">Sir Rogar, the hinde Hartly,</p> +<p class="i5">Sir Wyllyam, the bold Hearone.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">53. Sir George, the worthy Loumle,</p> +<p class="i5">a knyghte of great renown,</p> +<p class="i4">Sir Raff, the ryche Rugbe,</p> +<p class="i5">with dyntes were beaten downe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">54. For Wetharryngton my harte was wo,</p> +<p class="i5">that ever he slayne shulde be;</p> +<p class="i4">For when both his leggis were hewyn in to,</p> +<p class="i5">yet he kneeled and fought on hys knee.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">55. There was slayne, with the doughty Douglas,</p> +<p class="i5">Sir Hewe the Monggombyrry,</p> +<p class="i4">Sir Davy Lwdale, that worthy was,</p> +<p class="i5">his sister's son was he.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">56. Sir Charles a Murrë in that place,</p> +<p class="i5">that never a foot wolde fie;</p> +<p class="i4">Sir Hewe Maxwelle, a lorde he was,</p> +<p class="i5">with the Douglas dyd he die.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">57. So on the morrowe they mayde them biers</p> +<p class="i5">off birch and hasell so gray;</p> +<p class="i4">Many widows, with weepyng tears,</p> +<p class="i5">came to fetch ther makys<a name= +"FNanchor58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58">[58]</a> away.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">58. Tivydale may carpe of care,</p> +<p class="i5">Northumberland may mayk great moan,</p> +<p class="i4">For two such captayns as slayne were there,</p> +<p class="i5">on the March-parti shall never be none.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">59. Word ys commen to Eddenburrowe,</p> +<p class="i5">to Jamy the Scottische kynge,</p> +<p class="i4">That doughty Douglas, lyff-tenant of the Marches,</p> +<p class="i5">he lay slean Cheviot within.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">60. His handdës dyd he weal and wryng,</p> +<p class="i5">he sayd, "Alas, and woe ys me!</p> +<p class="i4">Such an othar captayn Skotland within,"</p> +<p class="i5">he sayd, "i-faith should never be."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">61. Worde ys commyn to lovely Londone,</p> +<p class="i5">till the fourth Harry our kynge.</p> +<p class="i4">That lord Percy, leyff-tenante of the Marchis</p> +<p class="i5">he lay slayne Cheviot within.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">62. "God have merci on his soule," sayde Kyng +Harry,</p> +<p class="i5">"good lord, yf thy will it be!</p> +<p class="i4">I have a hondred captayns in Ynglonde," he sayd,</p> +<p class="i5">"as good as ever was he:</p> +<p class="i4">But Percy, and I brook my lyfe,</p> +<p class="i5">thy deth well quyte shall be."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">63. As our noble kynge mayd his avowe,</p> +<p class="i5">lyke a noble prince of renown,</p> +<p class="i4">For the deth of the lord Percy</p> +<p class="i5">he dyd the battle of Hombyll-down:</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">64. Where syx and thirty Skottishe knyghtes</p> +<p class="i5">on a day were beaten down:</p> +<p class="i4">Glendale glytteryde on their armor bryght,</p> +<p class="i5">over castille, towar, and town.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">65. This was the hontynge of the Cheviot,</p> +<p class="i5">that tear<a name="FNanchor59"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_59">[59]</a> begane this spurn;</p> +<p class="i4">Old men that knowen the grownde well enoughe</p> +<p class="i5">call it the battell of Otterburn.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">66. At Otterburn begane this spume</p> +<p class="i5">upon a Monnynday;</p> +<p class="i4">There was the doughty Douglas slean,</p> +<p class="i5">the Percy never went away.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">67. There was never a tyme on the +Marche-partës</p> +<p class="i5">sen the Douglas and the Percy met,</p> +<p class="i4">But yt ys mervele and the rede blude ronne not,</p> +<p class="i5">as the rain does in the stret.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">68. Jesus Christ our bales<a name= +"FNanchor60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60">[60]</a> bete,</p> +<p class="i5">and to the bliss us bring!</p> +<p class="i4">Thus was the hunting of the Cheviot;</p> +<p class="i5">God send us alle good ending!</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_42"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor42">[42]</a> blaugre,' in spite of.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_43"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor43">[43]</a> Hinder.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_44"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor44">[44]</a> Company.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_45"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor45">[45]</a> Skirmished on the field.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_46"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor46">[46]</a> Ran through the groves.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_47"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor47">[47]</a> Blast blown when game is +killed.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_48"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor48">[48]</a> Quartering, cutting.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_49"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor49">[49]</a> Flame.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_50"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor50">[50]</a> Perhaps "finish."</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_51"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor51">[51]</a> "A gauntlet covering hand and +forearm."</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_53"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor53">[53]</a> Promise.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_54"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor54">[54]</a> Meaning uncertain.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_55"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor55">[55]</a> Stopped.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_56"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor56">[56]</a> Pierced.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_57"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor57">[57]</a> Stress of battle.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_58"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor58">[58]</a> Mates.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_59"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor59">[59]</a> That there (?).</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_60"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor60">[60]</a> Evils.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_3"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i7"><b>JOHNIE COCK</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. Up Johnie raise<a name="FNanchor61"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_61">[61]</a> in a May morning,</p> +<p class="i5">Calld for water to wash his hands,</p> +<p class="i4">And he has called for his gude gray hounds</p> +<p class="i5">That lay bound in iron bands, bands,</p> +<p class="i4">That lay bound in iron bands.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. "Ye'll busk<a name="FNanchor62"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_62">[62]</a>, ye'll busk my noble dogs,</p> +<p class="i5">Ye'll busk and make them boun<a name= +"FNanchor63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63">[63]</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">For I'm going to the Braidscaur hill</p> +<p class="i5">To ding the dun deer doun."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. Johnie's mother has gotten word o' that,</p> +<p class="i5">And care-bed she has ta'en<a name= +"FNanchor64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64">[64]</a>:</p> +<p class="i4">"O Johnie, for my benison,</p> +<p class="i5">I beg you'l stay at hame;</p> +<p class="i4">For the wine so red, and the well-baken bread,</p> +<p class="i5">My Johnie shall want nane."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. "There are seven forsters at Pickeram Side,</p> +<p class="i5">At Pickeram where they dwell,</p> +<p class="i4">And for a drop of thy heart's bluid</p> +<p class="i5">They wad ride the fords of hell."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. But Johnie has cast off the black velvet,</p> +<p class="i5">And put on the Lincoln twine,</p> +<p class="i4">And he is on the goode greenwood</p> +<p class="i5">As fast as he could gang.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west,</p> +<p class="i5">And he lookit aneath the sun,</p> +<p class="i4">And there he spied the dun deer sleeping</p> +<p class="i5">Aneath a buss o' whun<a name= +"FNanchor65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65">[65]</a>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">7. Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap<a name= +"FNanchor66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66">[66]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">And she lap wondrous wide,</p> +<p class="i4">Until they came to the wan water,</p> +<p class="i5">And he stem'd her of her pride.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">8. He has ta'en out the little pen-knife,</p> +<p class="i5">'Twas full three quarters<a name= +"FNanchor67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67">[67]</a> long,</p> +<p class="i4">And he has ta'en out of that dun deer</p> +<p class="i5">The liver but and<a name="FNanchor68"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_68">[68]</a> the tongue.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">9. They eat of the flesh, and they drank of the +blood,</p> +<p class="i5">And the blood it was so sweet,</p> +<p class="i4">Which caused Johnie and his bloody hounds</p> +<p class="i5">To fall in a deep sleep.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">10. By then came an old palmer,</p> +<p class="i5">And an ill death may he die!</p> +<p class="i4">For he's away to Pickeram Side</p> +<p class="i5">As fast as he can drie<a name= +"FNanchor69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69">[69]</a>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">11. "What news, what news?" says the Seven +Forsters,</p> +<p class="i5">"What news have ye brought to me?"</p> +<p class="i4">"I have no news," the palmer said,</p> +<p class="i5">"But what I saw with my eye."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">12. "As I came in by Braidisbanks,</p> +<p class="i5">And down among the whuns,</p> +<p class="i4">The bonniest youngster e'er I saw</p> +<p class="i5">Lay sleepin amang his hunds."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">13. "The shirt that was upon his back</p> +<p class="i5">Was o' the holland fine;</p> +<p class="i4">The doublet which was over that</p> +<p class="i5">Was o' the Lincoln twine."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">14. Up bespake the Seven Forsters,</p> +<p class="i5">Up bespake they ane and a':</p> +<p class="i4">"O that is Johnie o' Cockleys Well,</p> +<p class="i5">And near him we will draw."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">15. O the first stroke that they gae him,</p> +<p class="i5">They struck him off by the knee,</p> +<p class="i4">Then up bespake his sister's son:</p> +<p class="i5">"O the next'll gar<a name="FNanchor70"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_70">[70]</a> him die!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">16. "O some they count ye well wight men,</p> +<p class="i5">But I do count ye nane;</p> +<p class="i4">For you might well ha' waken'd me,</p> +<p class="i5">And ask'd gin I wad be ta'en."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">17. "The wildest wolf as in a' this wood</p> +<p class="i5">Wad not ha' done so by me;</p> +<p class="i4">She'd ha' wet her foot i' the wan water,</p> +<p class="i5">And sprinkled it o'er my brae,</p> +<p class="i4">And if that wad not ha' waken'd me,</p> +<p class="i5">She wad ha' gone and let me be."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">18. "O bows of yew, if ye be true,</p> +<p class="i5">In London, where ye were bought,</p> +<p class="i4">Fingers five, get up belive<a name= +"FNanchor71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71">[71]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">Manhuid shall fail me nought."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">19. He has kill'd the Seven Forsters,</p> +<p class="i5">He has kill'd them all but ane,</p> +<p class="i4">And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side,</p> +<p class="i5">To carry the bode-words hame.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">20. "Is there never a [bird] in a' this wood</p> +<p class="i5">That will tell what I can say;</p> +<p class="i4">That will go to Cockleys Well,</p> +<p class="i5">Tell my mither to fetch me away?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">21. There was a [bird] into that wood,</p> +<p class="i5">That carried the tidings away,</p> +<p class="i4">And many ae<a name="FNanchor72"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_72">[72]</a> was the well-wight man</p> +<p class="i5">At the fetching o' Johnie away.</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_61"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor61">[61]</a> Rose.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_62"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor62">[62]</a> Prepare.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_63"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor63">[63]</a> Ready.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_64"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor64">[64]</a> Has fallen ill with anxiety.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_65"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor65">[65]</a> Bush of whin, furze.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_66"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor66">[66]</a> Leaped.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_67"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor67">[67]</a> Quarter--the fourth part of a +yard.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_68"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor68">[68]</a> "But and"--as well as.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_69"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor69">[69]</a> Bear, endure.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_70"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor70">[70]</a> Make, cause.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_71"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor71">[71]</a> Quickly.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_72"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor72">[72]</a> One.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_4"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>SIR PATRICK SPENS</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. The king sits in Dumferling toune,</p> +<p class="i5">Drinking the blude-reid wine:</p> +<p class="i4">"O whar will I get guid sailor,</p> +<p class="i5">To sail this ship of mine?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. Up and spak an eldern knight,</p> +<p class="i5">Sat at the kings right kne:</p> +<p class="i4">"Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,</p> +<p class="i5">That sails upon the sea."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. The king has written a braid letter<a name= +"FNanchor73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73">[73]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">And sign'd it wi' his hand,</p> +<p class="i4">And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,</p> +<p class="i5">Was walking on the sand.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. The first line that Sir Patrick read,</p> +<p class="i5">A loud laugh laughed he;</p> +<p class="i4">The next line that Sir Patrick read,</p> +<p class="i5">The tear blinded his ee.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. "O wha is this has done this deed,</p> +<p class="i5">This ill deed done to me,</p> +<p class="i4">To send me out this time o' the year,</p> +<p class="i5">To sail upon the sea!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. "Make haste, make haste, my mirry men all,</p> +<p class="i5">Our guide ship sails the morne:"</p> +<p class="i4">"O say na sae, my master dear,</p> +<p class="i5">For I fear a deadlie storme."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">7. "Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone<a name= +"FNanchor74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74">[74]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">Wi' the auld moone in hir arme,</p> +<p class="i4">And I fear, I fear, my dear master,</p> +<p class="i5">That we will come to harme"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">8. O our Scots nobles were right laith</p> +<p class="i5">To weet their cork-heeled shoone;</p> +<p class="i4">But lang owre a' the play wer play'd,</p> +<p class="i5">Their hats they swam aboone.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">9. O lang, lang may their ladies sit,</p> +<p class="i5">Wi' their fans into their hand,</p> +<p class="i4">Or e'er they see Sir Patrick Spens</p> +<p class="i5">Cum sailing to the land.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">10. O lang, lang may the ladies stand,</p> +<p class="i5">Wi' their gold kerns<a name="FNanchor75"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_75">[75]</a> in their hair,</p> +<p class="i4">Waiting for their ain dear lords,</p> +<p class="i5">For they'll se thame na mair.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">11. Half owre, half owre to Aberdour,</p> +<p class="i5">It's "fiftie fadom deep,</p> +<p class="i4">And their lies guid Sir Patrick Spens,</p> +<p class="i5">Wi' the Scots lords at his feet."</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_73"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor73">[73]</a> "<i>A braid letter</i>, open or patent, in +opposition to close rolls."--Percy.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_74"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor74">[74]</a> Note that it is the sight of the new moon +<i>late</i> in the evening which makes a bad omen.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_75"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor75">[75]</a> Combs.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_5"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3"><b>THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY</b><a name= +"FNanchor76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76">[76]</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. Ye highlands, and ye Lowlands,</p> +<p class="i5">Oh where have you been?</p> +<p class="i4">They have slain the Earl of Murray,</p> +<p class="i5">And they layd him on the green.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. "Now wae be to thee, Huntly!</p> +<p class="i5">And wherefore did you sae?</p> +<p class="i4">I bade you bring him wi' you,</p> +<p class="i5">But forbade you him to slay."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. He was a braw gallant,</p> +<p class="i5">And he rid at the ring<a name= +"FNanchor77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77">[77]</a>;</p> +<p class="i4">And the bonny Earl of Murray,</p> +<p class="i5">Oh he might have been a king!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. He was a braw gallant,</p> +<p class="i5">And he play'd at the ba';</p> +<p class="i4">And the bonny Earl of Murray</p> +<p class="i5">Was the flower amang them a'.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. He was a braw gallant,</p> +<p class="i5">And he play'd at the glove<a name= +"FNanchor78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78">[78]</a>;</p> +<p class="i4">And the bonny Earl of Murray,</p> +<p class="i5">Oh he was the Queen's love!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. Oh lang will his lady</p> +<p class="i5">Look o'er the Castle Down,</p> +<p class="i4">E'er she see the Earl of Murray</p> +<p class="i5">Come sounding thro the town!</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_76"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor76">[76]</a> James Stewart, Earl of Murray, was killed by +the Earl of Huntly's followers, February, 1592. The second stanza +is spoken, of course, by the King.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_77"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor77">[77]</a> Piercing with the lance a suspended ring, as +one rode at full speed, was a favorite sport of the +day.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_78"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor78">[78]</a> Probably this reference is to the glove worn +by knights as a lady's favor.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_6"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4"><b>MARY HAMILTON</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. Word's gane to the kitchen,</p> +<p class="i5">And word's gane to the ha',</p> +<p class="i4">That Marie Hamilton has born a bairn</p> +<p class="i5">To the highest Stewart of a'.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. She's tyed it in her apron</p> +<p class="i5">And she's thrown it in the sea;</p> +<p class="i4">Says, "Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe,</p> +<p class="i5">You'll ne'er get mair o' me."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. Down then cam the auld Queen,</p> +<p class="i5">Goud<a name="FNanchor79"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_79">[79]</a> tassels tying her hair:</p> +<p class="i4">"O Marie, where's the bonny wee babe</p> +<p class="i5">That I heard greet<a name="FNanchor80"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_80">[80]</a> sae sair?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. "There was never a babe intill my room,</p> +<p class="i5">As little designs to be;</p> +<p class="i4">It was but a touch o' my sair side,</p> +<p class="i5">Came o'er my fair bodie."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. "O Marie, put on your robes o' black,</p> +<p class="i5">Or else your robes o' brown,</p> +<p class="i4">For ye maun gang wi' me the night,</p> +<p class="i5">To see fair Edinbro town."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. "I winna put on my robes o' black,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor yet my robes o' brown;</p> +<p class="i4">But I'll put on my robes o' white,</p> +<p class="i5">To shine through Edinbro town."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">7. When she gaed up the Cannogate,</p> +<p class="i5">She laugh'd loud laughters three;</p> +<p class="i4">But when she cam down the Cannogate</p> +<p class="i5">The tear blinded her ee.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">8. When she gaed up the Parliament stair,</p> +<p class="i5">The heel cam aff her shee<a name= +"FNanchor81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81">[81]</a>;</p> +<p class="i4">And lang or she cam down again</p> +<p class="i5">She was condemn'd to dee.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">9. When she cam down the Cannogate,</p> +<p class="i5">The Cannogate sae free,</p> +<p class="i4">Many a ladie look'd o'er her window,</p> +<p class="i5">Weeping for this ladie.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">10. "Make never meen<a name="FNanchor82"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_82">[82]</a> for me," she says,</p> +<p class="i5">"Make never meen for me;</p> +<p class="i4">Seek never grace frae a graceless face,</p> +<p class="i5">For that ye'll never see."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">11. "Bring me a bottle of wine," she says,</p> +<p class="i5">"The best that e'er ye hae,</p> +<p class="i4">That I may drink to my weil-wishers,</p> +<p class="i5">And they may drink to me."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">12. "And here's to the jolly sailor lad</p> +<p class="i5">That sails upon the faem;</p> +<p class="i4">But let not my father nor mother get wit</p> +<p class="i5">But that I shall come again."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">13. "And here's to the jolly sailor lad</p> +<p class="i5">That sails upon the sea;</p> +<p class="i4">But let not my father nor mother get wit</p> +<p class="i5">O' the death that I maun dee."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">14. "Oh little did my mother think,</p> +<p class="i5">The day she cradled me,</p> +<p class="i4">What lands I was to travel through,</p> +<p class="i5">What death I was to dee."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">15. "Oh little did my father think,</p> +<p class="i5">The day he held up<a name="FNanchor83"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_83">[83]</a> me,</p> +<p class="i4">What lands I was to travel through,</p> +<p class="i5">What death I was to dee."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">16. "Last night I wash'd the Queen's feet,</p> +<p class="i5">And gently laid her down;</p> +<p class="i4">And a' the thanks I've gotten the nicht</p> +<p class="i5">To be hangd in Edinbro town!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">17. "Last nicht there was four Maries,</p> +<p class="i5">The nicht there'll be but three;</p> +<p class="i4">There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton,</p> +<p class="i5">And Marie Carmichael, and me."</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_79"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor79">[79]</a> Gold.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_80"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor80">[80]</a> Weep.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_81"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor81">[81]</a> Shoe.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_82"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor82">[82]</a> Moan.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_83"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor83">[83]</a> Held up, lifted up, recognized as his lawful +child,--a world-wide and ancient ceremony.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_7"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4"><b>BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">1. High upon Highlands,</p> +<p class="i6">and low upon Tay,</p> +<p class="i5">Bonnie George Campbell</p> +<p class="i6">rade out on a day.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">2. Saddled and bridled</p> +<p class="i6">and gallant rade he;</p> +<p class="i5">Hame cam his guid horse,</p> +<p class="i6">but never cam he.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">3. Out cam his auld mither</p> +<p class="i6">greeting fu' sair,</p> +<p class="i5">And out cam his bonnie bride</p> +<p class="i6">riving her hair.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">4. Saddled and bridled</p> +<p class="i6">and booted rade he;</p> +<p class="i5">Toom<a name="FNanchor84"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_84">[84]</a> hame cam the saddle,</p> +<p class="i6">but never came he.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">5. "My meadow lies green,</p> +<p class="i6">and my corn is unshorn,</p> +<p class="i5">My barn is to build,</p> +<p class="i6">and my babe is unborn."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">6. Saddled and bridled</p> +<p class="i6">and booted rade he;</p> +<p class="i5">Toom hame cam the saddle,</p> +<p class="i6">but never cam he.</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_84"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor84">[84]</a> Empty.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_8"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3"><b>BESSIE BELL AND MARY GRAY</b><a name= +"FNanchor85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85">[85]</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,</p> +<p class="i5">They war twa bonnie lasses!</p> +<p class="i4">They biggit<a name="FNanchor86"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_86">[86]</a> a bower on yon burn-brae<a name= +"FNanchor87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87">[87]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">And theekit<a name="FNanchor88"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_88">[88]</a> it oer wi rashes.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. They theekit it oer wi' rashes green,</p> +<p class="i5">They theekit it oer wi' heather:</p> +<p class="i4">But the pest cam frae the burrows-town,</p> +<p class="i5">And slew them baith thegither.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. They thought to lie in Methven kirk-yard</p> +<p class="i5">Amang their noble kin;</p> +<p class="i4">But they maun lye in Stronach haugh,</p> +<p class="i5">To biek forenent the sin[89].</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. And Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,</p> +<p class="i5">They war twa bonnie lasses;</p> +<p class="i4">They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae,</p> +<p class="i5">And theekit it oer wi' rashes.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_9"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>THE THREE RAVENS</b><a name= +"FNanchor90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90">[90]</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">1. There were three ravens sat on a tree,</p> +<p class="i3">Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe<a name= +"FNanchor91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91">[91]</a>,</p> +<p class="i3">There were three ravens sat on a tree, With a +downe.</p> +<p class="i3">There were three ravens sat on a tree,</p> +<p class="i3">They were as blacke as they might be.</p> +<p class="i4">With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, +downe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">2. The one of them said to his mate,</p> +<p class="i3">"Where shall we our breakfast take?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">3. "Downe in yonder greene field</p> +<p class="i3">There lies a knight slain under his shield."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">4. His hounds they lie down at his feete,</p> +<p class="i3">So well they can their master keepe<a name= +"FNanchor92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92">[92]</a>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">5. His haukes they flie so eagerly,</p> +<p class="i3">There's no fowle dare him come nie.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">6. Downe there comes a fallow doe,</p> +<p class="i3">As great with young as she might goe.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">7. She lift up his bloudy head,</p> +<p class="i3">And kist his wounds that were so red.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">8. She got him up upon her backe,</p> +<p class="i3">And carried him to earthen lake<a name= +"FNanchor93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93">[93]</a>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">9. She buried him before the prime,</p> +<p class="i3">She was dead herselfe ere even-song time.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">10. God send every gentleman</p> +<p class="i3">Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman<a name= +"FNanchor94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94">[94]</a>.</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_85"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor85">[85]</a> Founded on an actual event of the plague, +near Perth, in 1645. See the interesting account in Professor +Child's 'Ballads,' Part VII, p. 75f.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_86"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor86">[86]</a> Built.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_87"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor87">[87]</a> A hill sloping down to a brook.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_88"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor88">[88]</a> Thatched.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_90"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor90">[90]</a> The counterpart, or perhaps parody, of this +ballad, called 'The Twa Corbies,' is better known than the +exquisite original.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_91"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor91">[91]</a> The refrain, or burden, differs in another +version of the ballad.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_92"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor92">[92]</a> Guard.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_93"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor93">[93]</a> Shroud of earth, burial.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_94"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor94">[94]</a> Sweetheart, darling, literally 'dear-one' +(liefman). The word had originally no offensive +meaning.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_10"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>LORD RANDAL</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>1. Where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son?</p> +<p class="i1">O where hae ye been, my handsome young man?</p> +<p class="i1">"I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed +soon,</p> +<p class="i1">For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie +down."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>2. "Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?</p> +<p class="i1">Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?"</p> +<p class="i1">"I din'd wi' my true-love; mother, make my bed +soon,</p> +<p class="i1">For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie +down."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>3. "What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son?</p> +<p class="i1">What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young +man?"</p> +<p class="i1">I gat eels boiled in broo<a name= +"FNanchor95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95">[95]</a>; mother, make my +bed soon,</p> +<p class="i1">For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie +down."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>4. "What became o' your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son?</p> +<p class="i1">What became' o' your bloodhounds, my handsome young +man?"</p> +<p class="i1">"O they swell'd and they died; mother, make my bed +soon,</p> +<p class="i1">For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie +down."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>5. "O I fear you are poison'd, Lord Randal, my son!</p> +<p class="i1">O I fear you are poison'd, my handsome young +man!"</p> +<p class="i1">"O yes! I'm poison'd; mother, make my bed soon,</p> +<p class="i1">For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie +down<a name="FNanchor96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96">[96]</a>."</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_95"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor95">[95]</a> Broth.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_96"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor96">[96]</a> Frogs, toads, snakes, and the like were +often served for fish, and of course were supposed to act as a +poison. One variant has a verse to elaborate this:--<br> +<br> +"Where gat she those eels, Lord Randal, my son?<br> +Where gat she those eels, my handsome young man?"<br> +"'Neath the bush o' brown bracken; mother, make my bed soon,<br> +For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down."</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_11"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>EDWARD</b><a name="FNanchor97"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_97">[97]</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">1. "Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,</p> +<p class="i9">Edward, Edward,</p> +<p class="i2">Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid,</p> +<p class="i4">And why sae sad gang yee O?"</p> +<p class="i3">"O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,</p> +<p class="i9">Mither, mither,</p> +<p class="i3">O I hae killed my hauke sae guid,</p> +<p class="i4">And I had nae mair hot hee O."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">2. "Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,</p> +<p class="i9">Edward, Edward,</p> +<p class="i2">Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid,</p> +<p class="i4">My deir son I tell thee O."</p> +<p class="i3">"O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,</p> +<p class="i9">Mither, mither,</p> +<p class="i3">O I hae killed my reid-roan steid,</p> +<p class="i4">That erst was sae fair and frie O."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">3. "Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,</p> +<p class="i9">Edward, Edward,</p> +<p class="i2">Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair,</p> +<p class="i4">Sum other dule ye drie O<a name= +"FNanchor98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98">[98]</a>."</p> +<p class="i3">"O I hae killed my fadir deir,</p> +<p class="i9">Mither, mither,</p> +<p class="i3">O I hae killed my fadir deir,</p> +<p class="i4">Alas, and wae is mee O!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">4. "And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that,</p> +<p class="i9">Edward, Edward,</p> +<p class="i2">And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that?</p> +<p class="i4">My deir son, now tell me O."</p> +<p class="i3">"I'll set my feit in yonder boat,</p> +<p class="i9">Mither, mither,</p> +<p class="i3">I'll set my feit in yonder boat,</p> +<p class="i4">And I'll fare over the sea O."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">5. "And what wul ye doe wi' your towers and your +ha',</p> +<p class="i9">Edward, Edward,</p> +<p class="i2">And what wul ye doe wi' your towers and your ha',</p> +<p class="i4">That were sae fair to see O?"</p> +<p class="i3">"I'll let them stand till they doun fa',</p> +<p class="i9">Mither, mither,</p> +<p class="i3">I'll let them stand till they doun fa',</p> +<p class="i4">For here nevir mair maun I bee O."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>6. "And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife,</p> +<p class="i9">Edward, Edward,</p> +<p class="i2">And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your +wife,</p> +<p class="i4">When ye gang over the sea O?"</p> +<p class="i3">"The warldis room; let them beg thrae life,</p> +<p class="i9">Mither, mither,</p> +<p class="i3">The warldis room; let them beg thrae life,</p> +<p class="i4">For them never mair wul I see O."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>7. "And what wul ye leive to your ain mither dear,</p> +<p class="i9">Edward, Edward,</p> +<p class="i2">And what will ye leive to your ain mither dear?</p> +<p class="i4">My dear son, now tell me O."</p> +<p class="i3">"The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,</p> +<p class="i9">Mither, mither,</p> +<p class="i3">The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir,</p> +<p class="i4">Sic counsels ye gave to me O."</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_97"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor97">[97]</a> One of the finest of our ballads. It was +sent from Scotland to Percy by David Dalrymple.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_98"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor98">[98]</a> You suffer some other sorrow.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_12"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>THE TWA BROTHERS</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. There were twa brethren in the north,</p> +<p class="i5">They went to the school thegither;</p> +<p class="i4">The one unto the other said,</p> +<p class="i5">"Will you try a warsle<a name= +"FNanchor99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99">[99]</a> afore?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. They warsled up, they warsled down,</p> +<p class="i5">Till Sir John fell to the ground,</p> +<p class="i4">And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch,</p> +<p class="i5">Gied him a deadlie wound.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. "Oh brither dear, take me on your back,</p> +<p class="i5">Carry me to yon burn clear,</p> +<p class="i4">And wash the blood from off my wound,</p> +<p class="i5">And it will bleed nae mair."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. He took him up upon his back,</p> +<p class="i5">Carried him to yon burn clear,</p> +<p class="i4">And washed the blood from off his wound,</p> +<p class="i5">But aye it bled the mair.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. "Oh brither dear, take me on your back,</p> +<p class="i5">Carry me to yon kirk-yard,</p> +<p class="i4">And dig a grave baith wide and deep.</p> +<p class="i5">And lay my body there."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. He's taen him up upon his back,</p> +<p class="i5">Carried him to yon kirk-yard,</p> +<p class="i4">And dug a grave baith deep and wide,</p> +<p class="i5">And laid his body there.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">7. "But what will I say to my father dear,</p> +<p class="i5">Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar's John?"</p> +<p class="i4">"Oh say that he's to England gone,</p> +<p class="i5">To buy him a cask of wine."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">8. "And what will I say to my mother dear,</p> +<p class="i5">Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?"</p> +<p class="i4">"Oh say that he's to England gone,</p> +<p class="i5">To buy her a new silk gown."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">9. "And what will I say to my sister dear,</p> +<p class="i5">Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?"</p> +<p class="i4">"Oh say that he's to England gone,</p> +<p class="i5">To buy her a wedding ring."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">10. "But what will I say to her you loe<a name= +"FNanchor100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100">[100]</a> dear,</p> +<p class="i5">Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?"</p> +<p class="i4">"Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,</p> +<p class="i5">And home again will never come."</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_99"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor99">[99]</a> Wrestle.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_100"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor100">[100]</a> Love.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_13"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><b>BABYLON; OR THE BONNIE BANKS O' FORDIE</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">1. There were three ladies lived in a bower,</p> +<p class="i7">Eh vow bonnie,</p> +<p class="i2">And they went out to pull a flower</p> +<p class="i6">On the bonnie banks o' Fordie.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">2. They hadna pu'ed a flower but ane,</p> +<p class="i2">When up started to them a banisht man.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">3. He's ta'en the first sister by her hand,</p> +<p class="i2">And he's turned her round and made her stand.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">4. "It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,</p> +<p class="i2">Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">5. "It's I'll not be a rank robber's wife,</p> +<p class="i2">But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">6. He's killed this may, and he's laid her by,</p> +<p class="i2">For to bear the red rose company.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">7. He's taken the second ane by the hand,</p> +<p class="i2">And he's turned her round and made her stand.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">8. "It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife,</p> +<p class="i2">Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">9. "I'll not be a rank robber's wife,</p> +<p class="i2">But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">10. He's killed this may, and he's laid her by,</p> +<p class="i2">For to bear the red rose company.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">11. He's taken the youngest ane by the hand,</p> +<p class="i2">And he's turned her round and made her stand.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">12. Says, "Will ye be a rank robber's wife,</p> +<p class="i2">Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">13. "I'll not be a rank robber's wife,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">14. "For I hae a brother in this wood,</p> +<p class="i2">And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">15. "What's thy brother's name? Come tell to me."</p> +<p class="i2">"My brother's name is Baby Lon."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">16. "O sister, sister, what have I done!</p> +<p class="i2">O have I done this ill to thee!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">17. "O since I've done this evil deed,</p> +<p class="i2">Good sall never be seen o' me."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i1">18. He's taken out his wee pen-knife,</p> +<p class="i2">And he's twyned<a name="FNanchor101"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_101">[101]</a> himsel o' his own sweet life.</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_101"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor101">[101]</a> Parted, deprived.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_14"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i5"><b>CHILDE MAURICE</b><a name= +"FNanchor102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102">[102]</a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. Childe Maurice hunted i' the silver wood,</p> +<p class="i5">He hunted it round about,</p> +<p class="i4">And noebodye that he found therein,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor none there was without.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. He says, "Come hither, thou little foot-page,</p> +<p class="i5">That runneth lowlye by my knee,</p> +<p class="i4">For thou shalt goe to John Steward's wife</p> +<p class="i5">And pray her speake with me."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. " . . . .</p> +<p class="i5">. . . .</p> +<p class="i4">I, and greete thou doe that ladye well,</p> +<p class="i5">Ever soe well fro me."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. "And, as it falls, as many times</p> +<p class="i5">As knots beene knit on a kell<a name= +"FNanchor103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103">[103]</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">Or marchant men gone to leeve London</p> +<p class="i5">Either to buy ware or sell."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. "And, as it falles, as many times</p> +<p class="i5">As any hart can thinke,</p> +<p class="i4">Or schoole-masters are in any schoole-house</p> +<p class="i5">Writing with pen and inke:</p> +<p class="i4">For if I might, as well as she may,</p> +<p class="i5">This night I would with her speake."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. "And heere I send her a mantle of greene,</p> +<p class="i5">As greene as any grasse,</p> +<p class="i4">And bid her come to the silver wood,</p> +<p class="i5">To hunt with Child Maurice."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">7. "And there I send her a ring of gold,</p> +<p class="i5">A ring of precious stone,</p> +<p class="i4">And bid her come to the silver wood,</p> +<p class="i5">Let<a name="FNanchor104"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_104">[104]</a> for no kind of man."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">8. One while this little boy he yode<a name= +"FNanchor105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105">[105]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">Another while he ran,</p> +<p class="i4">Until he came to John Steward's hall,</p> +<p class="i5">I-wis<a name="FNanchor106"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_106">[106]</a> he never blan<a name= +"FNanchor107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107">[107]</a>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">9. And of nurture the child had good,</p> +<p class="i5">He ran up hall and bower free,</p> +<p class="i4">And when he came to this ladye faire,</p> +<p class="i5">Sayes, "God you save and see<a name= +"FNanchor108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108">[108]</a>!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">10. "I am come from Child Maurice,</p> +<p class="i5">A message unto thee;</p> +<p class="i4">And Child Maurice, he greetes you well,</p> +<p class="i5">And ever soe well from me."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">11. "And as it falls, as oftentimes</p> +<p class="i5">As knots beene knit on a kell,</p> +<p class="i4">Or marchant men gone to leeve London</p> +<p class="i5">Either for to buy ware or sell."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">12. "And as oftentimes he greetes you well</p> +<p class="i5">As any hart can thinke,</p> +<p class="i4">Or schoolemasters are in any schoole,</p> +<p class="i5">Wryting with pen and inke."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">13. "And heere he sends a mantle of greene<a name= +"FNanchor109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109">[109]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">As greene as any grasse,</p> +<p class="i4">And he bids you come to the silver wood,</p> +<p class="i5">To hunt with Child Maurice."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">14. "And heere he sends you a ring of gold,</p> +<p class="i5">A ring of the precious stone;</p> +<p class="i4">He prayes you to come to the silver wood,</p> +<p class="i5">Let for no kind of man."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">15. "Now peace, now peace, thou little foot-page,</p> +<p class="i5">For Christes sake, I pray thee!</p> +<p class="i4">For if my lord heare one of these words,</p> +<p class="i5">Thou must be hanged hye!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">16. John Steward stood under the castle wall,</p> +<p class="i5">And he wrote the words everye one,</p> +<p class="i4">. . . .</p> +<p class="i5">. . . .</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">17. And he called upon his hors-keeper,</p> +<p class="i5">"Make ready you my steede!"</p> +<p class="i4">I, and soe he did to his chamberlaine,</p> +<p class="i5">"Make ready thou my weede<a name= +"FNanchor110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110">[110]</a>!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">18. And he cast a lease<a name= +"FNanchor111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111">[111]</a> upon his +backe,</p> +<p class="i5">And he rode to the silver wood,</p> +<p class="i4">And there he sought all about,</p> +<p class="i5">About the silver wood.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">19. And there he found him Child Maurice</p> +<p class="i5">Sitting upon a blocke,</p> +<p class="i4">With a silver combe in his hand,</p> +<p class="i5">Kembing his yellow lockes.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 25%;"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">20. But then stood up him Child Maurice,</p> +<p class="i5">And sayd these words trulye:</p> +<p class="i4">"I doe not know your ladye," he said,</p> +<p class="i5">"If that I doe her see."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">21. He sayes, "How now, how now, Child Maurice?</p> +<p class="i5">Alacke, how may this be?</p> +<p class="i4">For thou hast sent her love-tokens,</p> +<p class="i5">More now then two or three;"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">22. "For thou hast sent her a mantle of greene,</p> +<p class="i5">As greene as any grasse,</p> +<p class="i4">And bade her come to the silver woode</p> +<p class="i5">To hunt with Child Maurice."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">23. "And thou hast sent her a ring of gold,</p> +<p class="i5">A ring of precyous stone,</p> +<p class="i4">And bade her come to the silver wood,</p> +<p class="i5">Let for no kind of man."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">24. "And by my faith, now, Child Maurice,</p> +<p class="i5">The tone<a name="FNanchor112"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_112">[112]</a> of us shall dye!"</p> +<p class="i4">"Now be my troth," sayd Child Maurice,</p> +<p class="i5">"And that shall not be I."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">25. But he pulled forth a bright browne<a name= +"FNanchor113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113">[113]</a> sword,</p> +<p class="i5">And dryed it on the grasse,</p> +<p class="i4">And soe fast he smote at John Steward,</p> +<p class="i5">I-wisse he never did rest.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">26. Then he<a name="FNanchor114"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_114">[114]</a> pulled forth his bright browne sword,</p> +<p class="i5">And dryed it on his sleeve,</p> +<p class="i4">And the first good stroke John Stewart stroke,</p> +<p class="i5">Child Maurice head he did cleeve.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">27. And he pricked it on his sword's poynt,</p> +<p class="i5">Went singing there beside,</p> +<p class="i4">And he rode till he came to that ladye faire,</p> +<p class="i5">Whereas this ladye lyed<a name= +"FNanchor115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115">[115]</a>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">28. And sayes, "Dost thou know Child Maurice +head,</p> +<p class="i5">If that thou dost it see?</p> +<p class="i4">And lap it soft, and kisse it oft,</p> +<p class="i5">For thou lovedst him better than me."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">29. But when she looked on Child Maurice head,</p> +<p class="i5">She never spake words but three:--</p> +<p class="i4">"I never beare no childe but one,</p> +<p class="i5">And you have slaine him trulye."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">30. Sayes<a name="FNanchor116"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_116">[116]</a>, "Wicked be my merrymen all,</p> +<p class="i5">I gave meate, drinke, and clothe!</p> +<p class="i4">But could they not have holden me</p> +<p class="i5">When I was in all that wrath!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">31. "For I have slaine one of the curteousest +knights</p> +<p class="i5">That ever bestrode a steed,</p> +<p class="i4">So<a name="FNanchor117"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_117">[117]</a> have I done one of the fairest ladyes</p> +<p class="i5">That ever ware woman's weede!"</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_102"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor102">[102]</a> It is worth while to quote Gray's praise +of this ballad:--"I have got the old Scotch ballad on which +'Douglas' [the well-known tragedy by Home] was founded. It is +divine.... Aristotle's best rules are observed in a manner which +shows the author never had heard of Aristotle."--Letter to Mason, +in 'Works,' ed. Gosse, ii. 316.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_103"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor103">[103]</a> That is, the page is to greet the lady as +many times as there are knots in nets for the hair (<i>kell</i>), +or merchants going to dear (<i>leeve</i>, lief) London, or thoughts +of the heart, or schoolmasters in all schoolhouses. These +multiplied and comparative greetings are common in folk-lore, +particularly in German popular lyric.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_104"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor104">[104]</a> <i>Let</i> (desist) is an infinitive +depending on <i>bid</i>.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_105"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor105">[105]</a> Went, walked.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_106"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor106">[106]</a> Certainly.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_107"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor107">[107]</a> Stopped.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_108"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor108">[108]</a> Protect.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_109"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor109">[109]</a> These, of course, are tokens of the +Childe's identity.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_110"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor110">[110]</a> Clothes.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_111"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor111">[111]</a> Leash.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_112"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor112">[112]</a> That one = the one. <i>That</i> is the old +neuter form of the definite article. Cf. <i>the tother</i> for +<i>that other</i>.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_113"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor113">[113]</a> <i>Brown</i>, used in this way, seems to +mean burnished, or glistening, and is found in +Anglo-Saxon.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_114"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor114">[114]</a> <i>He</i>, John Steward.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_115"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor115">[115]</a> Lived.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_116"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor116">[116]</a> John Steward.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_117"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor117">[117]</a> Compare the similar swiftness of tragic +development in 'Babylon.'</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_15"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3"><b>THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. There lived a wife at Usher's Well,</p> +<p class="i5">And a wealthy wife was she;</p> +<p class="i4">She had three stout and stalwart sons,</p> +<p class="i5">And sent them o'er the sea.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. They hadna been a week from her,</p> +<p class="i5">A week but barely ane,</p> +<p class="i4">When word came to the carlin<a name= +"FNanchor118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118">[118]</a> wife</p> +<p class="i5">That her three sons were gane.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. They hadna been a week from her,</p> +<p class="i5">A week but barely three,</p> +<p class="i4">When word came to the carlin wife</p> +<p class="i5">That her sons she'd never see.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. "I wish the wind may never cease,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor fashes<a name="FNanchor119"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_119">[119]</a> in the flood,</p> +<p class="i4">Till my three sons come hame to me,</p> +<p class="i5">In earthly flesh and blood."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. It fell about the Martinmass<a name= +"FNanchor120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120">[120]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">When nights are lang and mirk,</p> +<p class="i4">The carlin wife's three sons came hame,</p> +<p class="i5">And their hats were o' the birk<a name= +"FNanchor121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121">[121]</a>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. It neither grew in syke<a name= +"FNanchor122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122">[122]</a> nor ditch,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor yet in ony sheugh<a name= +"FNanchor123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123">[123]</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">But at the gates o' Paradise,</p> +<p class="i5">That birk grew fair eneugh.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 25%;"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">7. "Blow up the fire, my maidens!</p> +<p class="i5">Bring water from the well!</p> +<p class="i4">For a' my house shall feast this night,</p> +<p class="i5">Since my three sons are well."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">8. And she has made to them a bed,</p> +<p class="i5">She's made it large and wide,</p> +<p class="i4">And she's ta'en her mantle her about,</p> +<p class="i5">Sat down at the bed-side.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 25%;"></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">9. Up then crew the red, red cock<a name= +"FNanchor124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124">[124]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">And up and crew the gray;</p> +<p class="i4">The eldest to the youngest said,</p> +<p class="i5">"'Tis time we were away."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">10. The cock he hadna craw'd but once,</p> +<p class="i5">And clapp'd his wing at a',</p> +<p class="i4">When the youngest to the eldest said,</p> +<p class="i5">"Brother, we must awa'."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">11. "The cock doth craw, the day doth daw.</p> +<p class="i5">The channerin<a name="FNanchor125"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_125">[125]</a> worm doth chide;</p> +<p class="i4">Gin we be mist out o' our place,</p> +<p class="i5">A sair pain we maun bide."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">12. "Fare ye weel, my mother dear!</p> +<p class="i5">Fareweel to barn and byre!</p> +<p class="i4">And fare ye weel, the bonny lass</p> +<p class="i5">That kindles my mother's fire!"</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_118"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor118">[118]</a> Old woman.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_119"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor119">[119]</a> Lockhart's clever emendation for the +<i>fishes</i> of the Ms. <i>Fashes</i> = disturbances, +storms.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_120"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor120">[120]</a> November 11th. Another version gives the +time as "the hallow days of Yule."</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_121"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor121">[121]</a> Birch.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_122"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor122">[122]</a> Marsh.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_123"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor123">[123]</a> Furrow, ditch.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_124"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor124">[124]</a> In folk-lore, the break of day is +announced to demons and ghosts by three cocks,--usually a white, a +red, and a black; but the colors, and even the numbers, vary. At +the third crow, the ghosts must vanish. This applies to guilty and +innocent alike; of course, the sons are "spirits of +health."</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_125"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor125">[125]</a> Fretting.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALLAD_16"></a> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3"><b>SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST</b></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">1. Whan bells war rung, an mass was sung,</p> +<p class="i5">A wat<a name="FNanchor126"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_126">[126]</a> a' man to bed were gone,</p> +<p class="i4">Clark Sanders came to Margret's window,</p> +<p class="i5">With mony a sad sigh and groan.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">2. "Are ye sleeping, Margret," he says,</p> +<p class="i5">"Or are ye waking, presentlie?</p> +<p class="i4">Give me my faith and trouth again,</p> +<p class="i5">A wat, true-love, I gied to thee."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">3. "Your faith and trouth ye's never get,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor our true love shall never twin<a name= +"FNanchor127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127">[127]</a>,</p> +<p class="i4">Till ye come with me in my bower,</p> +<p class="i5">And kiss me both cheek and chin."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">4. "My mouth it is full cold, Margret,</p> +<p class="i5">It has the smell now of the ground;</p> +<p class="i4">And if I kiss thy comely mouth,</p> +<p class="i5">Thy life-days will not be long."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">5. "Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf<a name= +"FNanchor128"></a><a href="#Footnote_128">[128]</a>,</p> +<p class="i5">I wat the wild fule boded day;</p> +<p class="i4">Give me my faith and trouth again,</p> +<p class="i5">And let me fare me on my way."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">6. "Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get,</p> +<p class="i5">Nor our true love shall never twin,</p> +<p class="i4">Till ye tell me what comes of women</p> +<p class="i5">A wat that dy's in strong traveling<a name= +"FNanchor129"></a><a href="#Footnote_129">[129]</a>."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">7. "Their beds are made in the heavens high,</p> +<p class="i5">Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee,</p> +<p class="i4">Well set about wi' gilly-flowers,</p> +<p class="i5">A wat sweet company for to see."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">8. "O cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf,</p> +<p class="i5">A wat the wild fule boded day;</p> +<p class="i4">The salms of Heaven will be sung,</p> +<p class="i5">And ere now I'll be missed away."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">9. Up she has taen a bright long wand,</p> +<p class="i5">And she has straked her trouth thereon<a name= +"FNanchor130"></a><a href="#Footnote_130">[130]</a>;</p> +<p class="i4">She has given it him out at the shot-window,</p> +<p class="i5">Wi mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">10. "I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret,</p> +<p class="i5">And I thank you heartilie;</p> +<p class="i4">Gin ever the dead come for the quick,</p> +<p class="i5">Be sure, Margret, I'll come again for thee."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">11. It's hose and shoon an gound<a name= +"FNanchor131"></a><a href="#Footnote_131">[131]</a> alane</p> +<p class="i5">She clame the wall and followed him,</p> +<p class="i4">Until she came to a green forest,</p> +<p class="i5">On this she lost the sight of him.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">12. "Is there any room at your head, Sanders?</p> +<p class="i5">Is there any room at your feet?</p> +<p class="i4">Or any room at your twa sides?</p> +<p class="i5">Where fain, fain woud I sleep."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">13. "There is nae room at my head, Margret,</p> +<p class="i5">There is nae room at my feet;</p> +<p class="i4">There is room at my twa sides,</p> +<p class="i5">For ladys for to sleep."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">14. "Cold meal<a name="FNanchor132"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_132">[132]</a> is my covering owre,</p> +<p class="i5">But an<a name="FNanchor133"></a><a href= +"#Footnote_133">[133]</a> my winding sheet:</p> +<p class="i4">My bed it is full low, I say,</p> +<p class="i5">Among hungry worms I sleep."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i3">15. "Cold meal is my covering owre,</p> +<p class="i5">But an my winding sheet:</p> +<p class="i4">The dew it falls nae sooner down</p> +<p class="i5">Than ay it is full weet."</p> +</div> +</div> +<blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_126"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor126">[126]</a> "I wot," "I know," = truly, in sooth. The +same in 5-2, 6-4, 7-4, 8-2.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_127"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor127">[127]</a> Part, separate. She does not yet know he +is dead.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_128"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor128">[128]</a> Probably the distorted name of a town; +<i>a</i> = in. "Cocks are crowing in merry--, and the wild-fowl +announce the dawn."</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_129"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor129">[129]</a> That die in childbirth.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_130"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor130">[130]</a> Margaret thus gives him back his +troth-plight by "stroking" it upon the wand, much as savages and +peasants believe they can rid themselves of a disease by rubbing +the affected part with a stick or pebble and flinging the latter +into the road.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_131"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor131">[131]</a> Gown.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_132"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor132">[132]</a> Mold, earth.</blockquote> +<blockquote><a name="Footnote_133"></a><a href= +"#FNanchor133">[133]</a> But and==also.</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>HONORÉ DE <a name="BALZAC"></a>BALZAC</h2> +<h3>(1799-1850)</h3> +<h3>BY WILLIAM P. TRENT</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-h.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>onoré de Balzac, by common consent the greatest of French +novelists and to many of his admirers the greatest of all writers +of prose fiction, was born at Tours, May 16th, 1799. Neither his +family nor his place of birth counts for much in his artistic +development; but his sister Laure, afterwards Madame Surville,--to +whom we owe a charming sketch of her brother and many of his most +delightful letters,--made him her hero through life, and gave him a +sympathy that was better than any merely literary environment. He +was a sensitive child, little comprehended by his parents or +teachers, which probably accounts for the fact that few writers +have so well described the feelings of children so situated [See +'Le lys dans la vallée' (The Lily in the Valley) and 'Louis +Lambert']. He was not a good student, but undermined his health by +desultory though enormous reading and by writing a precocious +Treatise on the Will, which an irate master burned and the future +novelist afterwards naïvely deplored. When brought home to +recuperate, he turned from books to nature, and the effects of the +beautiful landscape of Touraine upon his imagination are to be +found throughout his writings, in passages of description worthy of +a nature-worshiper like Senancour himself. About this time a vague +desire for fame seems to have seized him,--a desire destined to +grow into an almost morbid passion; and it was a kindly Providence +that soon after (1814) led his family to quit the stagnant +provinces for that nursery of ambition, Paris. Here he studied +under new masters, heard lectures at the Sorbonne, read in the +libraries, and finally, at the desire of his practical father, took +a three years' course in law.</p> +<br> +<a name="image404.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image404.jpg"><img src= +"images/image404.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></a></p> +<br> +<p>He was now at the parting of the ways, and he chose the one +nearest his heart. After much discussion, it was settled that he +should not be obliged to return to the provinces with his family, +or to enter upon the regular practice of law, but that he might try +his luck as a writer on an allowance purposely fixed low enough to +test his constancy and endurance. Two years was the period of +probation allotted, during which time Balzac read still more widely +and walked the streets studying the characters he met, all the +while endeavoring to grind out verses for a tragedy on Cromwell. +This, when completed, was promptly and justly damned by his family, +and he was temporarily forced to retire from Paris. He did not give +up his aspirations, however, and before long he was back in his +attic, this time supporting himself by his pen. Novels, not +tragedies, were what the public most wanted, so he labored +indefatigably to supply their needs and his own necessities; not +relinquishing, however, the hope that he might some day watch the +performance of one of his own plays. His perseverance was destined +to be rewarded, for he lived to write five dramas which fill a +volume of his collected works; but only one, the posthumous comedy +'Mercadet', was even fairly successful. Yet that Balzac had +dramatic genius his matured novels abundantly prove.</p> +<p>The ten romances, however, that he wrote for cheap booksellers +between 1822 and 1829 displayed so little genius of any sort that +he was afterwards unwilling to cover their deficiencies with his +great name. They have been collected as youthful works ('Oeuvres de +jeunesse'), and are useful to a complete understanding of the +evolution of their author's genius; but they are rarely read even +by his most devoted admirers. They served, however, to enable him +to get through his long and heart-rending period of apprenticeship, +and they taught him how to express himself; for this born novelist +was not a born writer and had to labor painfully to acquire a style +which only at rare moments quite fitted itself to the subject he +had in hand.</p> +<p>Much more interesting than these early sensational romances were +the letters he wrote to his sister Laure, in which he grew eloquent +over his ambition and gave himself needed practice in describing +the characters with whom he came in contact. But he had not the +means to wait quietly and ripen, so he embarked in a publishing +business which brought him into debt. Then, to make up his losses, +he became partner in a printing enterprise which failed in 1827, +leaving him still more embarrassed financially, but endowed with a +fund of experience which he turned to rich account as a novelist. +Henceforth the sordid world of debt, bankruptcy, usury, and +speculation had no mystery for him, and he laid it bare in novel +after novel, utilizing also the knowledge he had gained of the law, +and even pressing into service the technicalities of the printing +office [See 'Illusions perdues' (Lost Illusions)]. But now at the +age of twenty-eight he had over 100,000 francs to pay, and had +written nothing better than some cheap stories; the task of wiping +out his debts by his writings seemed therefore a more hopeless one +than Scott's. Nothing daunted, however, he set to work, and the +year that followed his second failure in business saw the +composition of the first novel he was willing to acknowledge, 'Les +Chouans.' This romance of Brittany in 1799 deserved the praise it +received from press and public, in spite of its badly jointed plot +and overdrawn characters. It still appeals to many readers, and is +important to the 'Comédie humaine' as being the only novel +of the "Military Scenes.". The 'Physiology of Marriage' followed +quickly (1829-30), and despite a certain pruriency of imagination, +displayed considerable powers of analysis, powers destined shortly +to distinguish a story which ranks high among its author's works, +'La Maison du chat-qui-pelote' (1830). This delightful novelette, +the queer title of which is nearly equivalent to 'At the Sign of +the Cat and the Racket,' showed in its treatment of the heroine's +unhappy passion the intuition and penetration of the born +psychologist, and in its admirable description of bourgeois life +the pictorial genius of the genuine realist. In other words the +youthful romancer was merged once for all in the matured novelist. +The years of waiting and observation had done their work, and along +the streets of Paris now walked the most profound analyst of human +character that had scrutinized society since the days when William +Shakespeare, fresh from Stratford, trod the streets and lanes of +Elizabethan London.</p> +<p>The year 1830 marks the beginning not merely of Balzac's success +as the greatest of modern realists, but also of his marvelous +literary activity. Novel after novel is begun before its +predecessor is finished; short stories of almost perfect +workmanship are completed; sketches are dashed off that will one +day find their appropriate place in larger compositions, as yet +existing only in the brain of the master. Nor is it merely a +question of individual works: novels and stories are to form +different series,--'Scenes from Private Life,' 'Philosophical +Novels and Tales,'--which are themselves destined to merge into +'Studies of Manners in the Nineteenth Century,' and finally into +the 'Comédie humaine' itself. Yet it was more than a swarm +of stories that was buzzing in his head; it was a swarm of +individuals often more truly alive to him than the friends with +whom he loved to converse about them. And just because he knew +these people of his brain, just because he entered into the least +details of their daily lives, Balzac was destined to become much +more than a mere philosopher or student of society; to wit, a +creator of characters, endowed with that "absolute dramatic vision" +which distinguishes Homer and Shakespeare and Chaucer. But because +he was also something of a philosopher and student of sociology, he +conceived the stupendous idea of linking these characters with one +another and with their several environments, in order that he might +make himself not merely the historian but also the creator of an +entire society. In other words, conservative though he was, Balzac +had the audacity to range himself by the side of Geoffroy +Saint-Hilaire, and to espouse the cause of evolution even in its +infancy. The great ideas of the mutability of species and of the +influence of environment and heredity were, he thought, as +applicable to sociology as to zoölogy, and as applicable to +fiction as to either. So he meditated the 'Comédie humaine' +for several years before he announced it in 1842, and from being +almost the rival of Saint-Hilaire he became almost the anticipator +of Darwin.</p> +<p>But this idea of evolution was itself due to the evolution of +his genius, to which many various elements contributed: his +friendships and enmities with contemporary authors, his intimacies +with women of refinement and fashion, his business struggles with +creditors and publishers, his frequent journeys to the provinces +and foreign countries; and finally his grandiose schemes to +surround himself with luxury and the paraphernalia of power, not so +much for his own sake as for the sake of her whose least smile was +a delight and an inspiration. About each of these topics an +interesting chapter might be written, but here a few words must +suffice.</p> +<p>After his position as an author was more or less assured, +Balzac's relations with the leaders of his craft--such as Victor +Hugo, Théophile Gautier, and George Sand--were on the whole +cordial. He had trouble with Sainte-Beuve, however, and often felt +that his brother-writers begrudged his success. His constant +attacks on contemporary journalists, and his egotistic and erratic +manners naturally prejudiced the critics, so that even the +marvelous romance entitled 'La Peau de chagrin' (The Magic Skin: +1831),--a work of superb genius,--speedily followed as it was by +'Eugénie Grandet' and 'Le Père Goriot,' did not win +him cordial recognition. One or two of his friendships, however, +gave him a knowledge of higher social circles than he was by birth +entitled to, a fact which should be remembered in face of the +charge that he did not know high life, although it is of course +true that a writer like Balzac, possessing the intuition of genius, +need not frequent salons or live in hovels in order to describe +them with absolute verisimilitude.</p> +<p>With regard to Balzac's debts, the fact should be noted that he +might have paid them off more easily and speedily had he been more +prudent. He cut into the profits of his books by the costly changes +he was always making in his proof-sheets,--changes which the artist +felt to be necessary, but against which the publishers naturally +protested. In reality he wrote his books on his proof-sheets, for +he would cut and hack the original version and make new insertions +until he drove his printers wild. Indeed, composition never became +easy to him, although under a sudden inspiration he could sometimes +dash off page after page while other men slept. He had, too, his +affectations; he must even have a special and peculiar garb in +which to write. All these eccentricities and his outside +distractions and ambitions, as well as his noble and pathetic love +affair, entered into the warp and woof of his work with effects +that can easily be detected by the careful student, who should +remember, however, that the master's foibles and peculiarities +never for one moment set him outside the small circle of the men of +supreme genius. He belongs to them by virtue of his tremendous +grasp of life in its totality, his superhuman force of execution +and the inevitableness of his art at its best.</p> +<p>The decade from 1830 to 1840 is the most prolific period of +Balzac's genius in the creation of individual works; that from 1840 +to 1850 is his great period of philosophical co-ordination and +arrangement. In the first he hewed out materials for his house; in +the second he put them together. This statement is of course +relatively true only, for we owe to the second decade three of his +greatest masterpieces: 'Splendeurs et misères des +courtisanes,' and 'La Cousine Bette' and 'Le Cousin Pons,' +collectively known as 'Les Parents pauvres' (Poor Relations). And +what a period of masterful literary activity the first decade +presents! For the year 1830 alone the Vicomte de Spoelberch de +Lovenjoul gives seventy-one entries, many of slight importance, but +some familiar to every student of modern literature, such as 'El +Verdugo,' 'La Maison du chat-qui-pelote,' 'Gobseck,' 'Adieu,' 'Une +Passion dans le desert' (A Passion in the Desert), 'Un +Épisode sous la Terreur' (An Episode of the Terror). For +1831 there are seventy-six entries, among them such masterpieces as +'Le Réequisitionnaire' (The Conscript), 'Les Proscrits' (The +Outlaws), 'La Peau de chagrin,' and 'Jésus-Christ en +Flandre.' In 1832 the number of entries falls to thirty-six, but +among them are 'Le Colonel Chabert,' 'Le Curé de Tours' (The +Priest of Tours), 'La Grande Bretèche,' 'Louis Lambert,' and +'Les Marana.' After this year there are fewer short stories. In +1833 we have 'Le Médecin de campagne' (The Country Doctor), +and 'Eugénie Grandet,' with parts of the 'Histoire des +treize' (Story of the Thirteen), and of the 'Contes drolatiques' +(Droll Tales). The next year gives us 'La Recherche de l'absolu' +(Search for the Absolute) and 'Le Père Goriot' (Old Goriot) +and during the next six there were no less than a dozen +masterpieces. Such a decade of accomplishment is little short of +miraculous, and the work was done under stress of anxieties that +would have crushed any normal man.</p> +<p>But anxieties and labors were lightened by a friendship which +was an inspiration long before it ripened into love, and were +rendered bearable both by Balzac's confidence in himself and by his +ever nearer view of the goal he had set himself. The task before +him was as stupendous as that which Comte had undertaken, and +required not merely the planning and writing of new works but the +utilization of all that he had previously written. Untiring labor +had to be devoted to this manipulation of old material, for +practically the great output of the five years 1829-1834 was to be +co-ordinated internally, story being brought into relation with +story and character with character. This meant the creation and +management of an immense number of personages, the careful +investigation of the various localities which served for +environments, and the profound study of complicated social and +political problems. No wonder, then, that the second decade of his +maturity shows a falling off in abundance, though not in intensity +of creative power; and that the gradual breaking down of his +health, under the strain of his ceaseless efforts and of his +abnormal habits of life, made itself more and more felt in the +years that followed the great preface which in 1842 set forth the +splendid design of the 'Comédie humaine.'</p> +<p>This preface, one of the most important documents in literary +history, must be carefully studied by all who would comprehend +Balzac in his entirety. It cannot be too often repeated that +Balzac's scientific and historical aspirations are important only +in so far as they caused him to take a great step forward in the +development of his art. The nearer the artist comes to reproducing +for us life in its totality, the higher the rank we assign him +among his fellows. Tried by this canon, Balzac is supreme. His +interweaving of characters and events through a series of volumes +gives a verisimilitude to his work unrivaled in prose fiction, and +paralleled only in the work of the world-poets. In other words, his +use of co-ordination upon a vast scale makes up for his lack of +delicacy and sureness of touch, as compared with what Shakespeare +and Homer and Chaucer have taught us to look for. Hence he is with +them even if not of them.</p> +<p>This great claim can be made for the Balzac of the +'Comédie humaine' only; it could not be made for the Balzac +of any one masterpiece like 'Le Père Goriot,' or even for +the Balzac of all the masterpieces taken in lump and without +co-ordination. Balzac by co-ordination has in spite of his +limitations given us a world, just as Shakespeare and Homer have +done; and so Taine was profoundly right when he put him in the same +category with the greatest of all writers. When, however, he added +St. Simon to Shakespeare, and proclaimed that with them Balzac was +the greatest storehouse of documents that we have on human nature, +he was guilty not merely of confounding <i>genres</i> of art, but +also of laying stress on the philosophic rather than on the +artistic side of fiction. Balzac does make himself a great +storehouse of documents on human nature, but he also does something +far more important, he sets before us a world of living men and +women.</p> +<p>To have brought this world into existence, to have given it +order in the midst of complexity, and that in spite of the fact +that death overtook him before he could complete his work, would +have been sufficient to occupy a decade of any other man's life; +but he, though harassed with illness and with hopes of love and +ambition deferred, was strong enough to do more. The year 1840 saw +the appearance of 'Pierrette,' and the establishment of the +ill-fated 'Revue parisienne.' The following year saw 'Ursule +Mirouet,' and until 1848 the stream of great works is practically +unbroken. The 'Splendeurs et misères' and the 'Parents +pauvres' have been named already, but to these must be added 'Un +Ménage de garçon' (A Bachelor's House-keeping), +'Modeste Mignon,' and 'Les Paysans' (The Peasants). The three +following years added nothing to his work and closed his life, but +they brought him his crowning happiness. On March 14th, 1850, he +was married to Mme. Hanska, at Berditchef; on August 18th, 1850, he +died at Paris.</p> +<p>Madame Evelina de Hanska came into Balzac's life about 1833, +just after he had shaken off the unfortunate influence of the +Duchesse de Castries. The young Polish countess was much impressed, +we are told, by reading the 'Scènes de la vie privée' +(Scenes of Private Life), and was somewhat perplexed and worried by +Balzac's apparent change of method in 'La Peau de chagrin.' She +wrote to him over the signature "L'Étrangère" (A +Foreigner), and he answered in a series of letters recently +published in the Revue de Paris. Not long after the opening of this +correspondence the two met, and a firm friendship was cemented +between them. The lady was about thirty, and married to a Russian +gentleman of large fortune, to whom she had given an only daughter. +She was in the habit of traveling about Europe to carry on this +daughter's education, and Balzac made it his pleasure and duty to +see her whenever he could, sometimes journeying as far as Vienna. +In the interim he would write her letters which possess great charm +and importance to the student of his life. The husband made no +objection to the intimacy, trusting both to his wife and to Balzac; +but for some time before the death of the aged nobleman, Balzac +seems to have distrusted himself and to have held slightly aloof +from the woman whom he was destined finally to love with all the +fervor of his nature. Madame Hanska became free in the winter of +1842-3, and the next summer Balzac visited St. Petersburg to see +her. His love soon became an absorbing passion, but consideration +for her daughter's future withheld the lady's consent to a +betrothal till 1846. It was a period of weary waiting, in which our +sympathies are all on one side; for if ever a man deserved to be +happy in a woman's love, it was Balzac. His happiness came, but +almost too late to be enjoyed. His last two years, which he spent +in Poland with Madame de Hanska, were oppressed by illness, and he +returned to his beloved Paris only to die. The struggle of thirty +years was over, and although his immense genius was not yet fully +recognized, his greatest contemporary, Victor Hugo, was magnanimous +enough to exclaim on hearing that he was dying, "Europe is on the +point of losing a great mind." Balzac's disciples feel that Europe +really lost its greatest writer since Shakespeare.</p> +<p>In the definitive edition of Balzac's writings in twenty-four +volumes, seventeen are occupied by the various divisions of the +'Comédie humaine.' The plays take up one volume; and the +correspondence, not including of course the letters to +"L'Étrangère," another; the 'Contes drolatiques' make +still another; and finally we have four volumes filled with +sketches, tales, reviews, and historical and political articles +left uncollected by their author.</p> +<p>The 'Contes' are thirty in number, divided into "dixains," each +with its appropriate prologue and epilogue. They purport to have +been collected in the abbeys of Touraine, and set forth by the +Sieur de Balzac for the delight of Pantagruelists and none others. +Not merely the spirit but the very language of Rabelais is caught +with remarkable verve and fidelity, so that from the point of view +of style Balzac has never done better work. A book which holds by +Rabelais on the one hand and by the Queen of Navarre on the other +is not likely, however, to appeal to that part of the English and +American reading public that expurgates its Chaucer, and blushes at +the mention of Fielding and Smollett. Such readers will do well to +avoid the 'Contes drolatiques;' although, like 'Don Juan,' they +contain a great deal of what was best in their author, of his +frank, ebullient, sensuous nature, lighted up here at least by a +genuine if scarcely delicate humor. Of direct suggestion of vice +Balzac was, naturally, as incapable as he was of smug puritanism; +but it must be confessed that as a <i>raconteur</i> his proper +audience, now that the monastic orders have passed away, would be a +group of middle-aged club-men.</p> +<p>The 'Comédie humaine' is divided into three main +sections: first and most important, the 'Études de moeurs' +(Studies of Manners), second the 'Études philosophiques' +(Philosophic Studies), and finally the 'Études analytiques' +(Analytic Studies). These divisions, as M. Barrière points +out in his 'L'Oeuvre de H. de Balzac' (The Work of Balzac), were +intended to bear to one another the relations that moral science, +psychology, and metaphysics do to one another with regard to the +life of man, whether as an individual or as a member of society. No +single division was left complete at the author's death; but enough +was finished and put together to give us the sense of moving in a +living, breathing world, no matter where we make our entry. This, +as we have insisted, is the real secret of his greatness. To think, +for example, that the importance of 'Séraphita' lies in the +fact that it gives Balzac's view of Swedenborgianism, or that the +importance of 'Louis Lambert' lies in its author's queer theories +about the human will, is entirely to misapprehend his true position +in the world of literature. His mysticism, his psychology, his +theories of economics, his reactionary devotion to monarchy, and +his idealization of the Church of Rome, may or may not appeal to +us, and have certainly nothing that is eternal or inevitable about +them; but in his knowledge of the human mind and heart he is as +inevitable and eternal as any writer has ever been, save only +Shakespeare and Homer.</p> +<p>The 'Études de moeurs' were systematically divided by +their author into 'Scenes of Private Life,' 'Scenes of Provincial +Life,' 'Scenes of Country Life,' 'Scenes of Parisian Life,' 'Scenes +of Political Life,' and 'Scenes of Military Life,'--the last three +divisions representing more or less exceptional phases of +existence. The group relating to Paris is by far the most important +and powerful, but the provincial stories show almost as fine +workmanship, and furnish not a few of the well-known masterpieces. +Less interesting, though still important, are the 'Scenes of +Private Life,' which consist of twenty-four novels, novelettes, and +tales, under the following titles: 'Béatrix,' 'Albert +Savarus,' 'La Fausse maitresse' (The False Mistress), 'Le Message' +(The Message), 'La Grande Bretèche,' 'Étude de femme' +(Study of Woman), 'Autre étude de femme' (Another Story of +Woman), 'Madame Firmiani,' 'Modeste Mignon,' 'Un Début dans +la vie' (An Entrance upon Life), 'Pierre Grassou,' 'Mémoires +de deux jeunes mariées' (Recollections of a Young Couple), +'La Maison du chat-qui-pelote,' 'Le Bal de Sceaux' (The Ball of +Sceaux), 'Le Contrat de mariage' (The Marriage Contract), 'La +Vendetta,' 'La Paix du ménage' (Household Peace), 'Une +Double famille' (A Double Family), 'Une Fille d'Éve' (A +Daughter of Eve), 'Honorine,' 'La Femme abandonnée' (The +Abandoned Wife), 'La Grenadière,' 'La Femme de trente ans' +(The Woman of Thirty).</p> +<p>Of all these stories, hardly one shows genuine greatness except +the powerful tragic tale 'La Grande Bretèche,' which was +subsequently incorporated in 'Autre étude de femme,' This +story of a jealous husband's walling up his wife's lover in a +closet of her chamber is as dramatic a piece of writing as Balzac +ever did, and is almost if not quite as perfect a short story as +any that has since been written in France. 'La Maison du +chat-qui-pelote' has been mentioned already on account of its +importance in the evolution of Balzac's realism, but while a +delightful novelette, it is hardly great, its charm coming rather +from its descriptions of bourgeois life than from the working out +of its central theme, the infelicity of a young wife married to an +unfaithful artist. 'Modeste Mignon' is interesting, and more +romantic than Balzac's later works were wont to be; but while it +may be safely recommended to the average novel-reader, few admirers +of its author would wish to have it taken as a sample of their +master. 'Béatrix' is a powerful story in its delineation of +the weakness of the young Breton nobleman, Calyste du +Guénie. It derives a factitious interest from the fact that +George Sand is depicted in 'Camille Maupin,' the <i>nom de +plume</i> of Mlle. des Touches, and perhaps Balzac himself in +Claude Vignon, the critic. Less factitious is the interest derived +from Balzac's admirable delineation of a doting mother and aunt, +and from his realistic handling of one of the cleverest of his +ladies of light reputation, Madame Schontz; his studies of such +characters of the <i>demi-monde</i>--especially of the wonderful +Esther of the 'Splendeurs et misères'--serving plainly, by +the way, as a point of departure for Dumas <i>fils</i>. Yet +'Béatrix' is an able rather than a truly great book, for it +neither elevates nor delights us. In fact, all the stories in this +series are interesting rather than truly great; but all display +Balzac's remarkable analytic powers. Love, false or true, is of +course their main theme; wrought out to a happy issue in 'La +Bourse,' a charming tale, or to a death of despair in 'La +Grenadière' The childless young married woman is contrasted +with her more fortunate friend surrounded by little ones +('Mémoires de deux jeunes mariées'), the heartless +coquette flirts once too often ('Le Bal de Sceaux'), the eligible +young man is taken in by a scheming mother ('Le Contrat du +mariage'), the deserted husband labors to win back his wife +('Honorine'), the tempted wife learns at last the real nature of +her peril ('Une Fille d'Éve'); in short, lovers and +mistresses, husbands and wives, make us participants of all the +joys and sorrows that form a miniature world within the four walls +of every house.</p> +<p>The 'Scenes of Provincial Life' number only ten stories, but +nearly all of them are masterpieces. They are 'Eugénie +Grandet,' 'Le Lys dans la vallée,' 'Ursule Mirouet,' +'Pierrette,' 'Le Curé de Tours,' 'La Rabouilleuse,' 'La +Vielle fille' (The Old Maid), 'Le Cabinet des antiques' (The +Cabinet of Antiques), 'L'Illustre Gaudissart' (The Illustrious +Gaudissart), and 'La Muse du département' (The Departmental +Muse). Of these 'Eugénie Grandet' is of course easily first +in interest, pathos, and power. The character of old Grandet, the +miserly father, is presented to us with Shakespearean vividness, +although Eugénie herself has, less than the Shakespearean +charm. Any lesser artist would have made the tyrant himself and his +yielding wife and daughters seem caricatures rather than living +people. It is only the Shakespeares and Balzacs who are able to +make their Shylocks and lagos, their Grandets and Philippe +Brideaus, monsters and human beings at one and the same time. It is +only the greater artists, too, who can bring out all the pathos +inherent in the subjection of two gentle women to a tyrant in their +own household. But it is Balzac the inimitable alone who can +portray fully the life of the provinces, its banality, its +meanness, its watchful selfishness, and yet save us through the +perfection of his art from the degradation which results from +contact with low and sordid life. The reader who rises unaffected +from a perusal of 'Eugénie Grandet' would be unmoved by the +grief of Priam in the tent of Achilles, or of Othello in the +death-chamber of Desdemona.</p> +<p>'Le Lys dans la vallée' has been pronounced by an able +French critic to be the worst novel he knows; but as a study of +more or less ethereal and slightly morbid love it is characterized +by remarkable power. Its heroine, Madame Mortsauf, tied to a nearly +insane husband and pursued by a sentimental lover, undergoes +tortures of conscience through an agonizing sense of half-failure +in her duty. Balzac himself used to cite her when he was charged +with not being able to draw a pure woman; but he has created nobler +types. The other stories of the group are also decidedly more +interesting. The distress of the abbé Birotteau over his +landlady's treatment, and the intrigues of the abbé Troubert +('Le Curé de Tours') absorb us as completely as the career +of Caesar himself in Mommsen's famous chapter. The woes of the +little orphan subjected to the tyranny of her selfish aunt and +uncle ('Pierrette'), the struggles of the rapacious heirs for the +Mirouet fortune ('Ursule Mirouet,') a story which gives us one of +Balzac's purest women, treats interestingly of mesmerism (and may +be read without fear by the young), the siege of Mlle. Cormon's +mature affections by her two adroit suitors ('Une Vielle fille'), +the intrigues against the peace of the d'Esgrignons and the sublime +devotion to their interests of the notary Chesnel ('Le Cabinet des +antiques'), and finally the ignoble passions that fought themselves +out around the senile Jean Jacques Rouget, under the direction of +the diabolical ex-soldier Philippe Brideau ('La Rabouilleuse,' +sometimes entitled 'Un Ménage de Garcon'), form the +absorbing central themes of a group of novels--or rather stories, +for few of them attain considerable length--unrivaled in the annals +of realistic fiction.</p> +<p>The 'Scenes of Country Life,' comprising 'Les Paysans,' 'Le +Médecin de campagne,' and 'Le Curé de village' (The +Village Priest), take high rank among their author's works. Where +Balzac might have been crudely naturalistic, he has preferred to be +either realistic as in the first named admirable novel, or +idealistic as in the two latter. Hence he has created characters +like the country physician, Doctor Benassis, almost as great a boon +to the world of readers as that philanthropist himself was to the +little village of his adoption. If Madame Graslin of 'Le +Curé de village' fails to reach the height of Benassis, her +career has at least a sensational interest which his lacked; and +the country curate, the good abbé Bonnet, surely makes up +for her lack on the ideal side. This story, by the way, is +important for the light it throws on the workings of the Roman +Church among the common people; and the description of Madame +Graslin's death is one of Balzac's most effective pieces of +writing.</p> +<p>We are now brought to the 'Parisian Scenes,' and with the +exception of 'Eugénie Grandet,' to the best-known +masterpieces. There are twenty titles; but as two of these are +collective in character, the number of novels and stories amounts +to twenty-four, as follows:--'Le Père Goriot,' 'Illusions +perdues,' 'Splendeurs et misères des courtisanes,' 'Les +Secrets de la princesse de Cadignan' (The Secrets of the Princess +of Cadignan), 'Histoire des treize' [containing 'Ferragus,' 'La +Duchesse de Langeais,' and 'La Fille aux yeux d'or' (The Girl with +the Golden Eyes)], 'Sarrasine,' 'Le Colonel Chabert,' +'L'lnterdiction' (The Interdiction), 'Les Parents pauvres' (Poor +Relations, including 'La Cousine Bette' and 'Le Cousin Pons'), 'La +Messe de l'athée' (The Atheist's Mass), 'Facino Cane,' +'Gobseck,' 'La Maison Nucingen,' 'Un Prince de la Bohème' (A +Prince of Bohemia), 'Esquisse d'homme d'affaires' (Sketch of a +Business man), 'Gaudissart II.' 'Les Comédiens sans le +savoir' (The Unconscious Humorists), 'Les Employés' (The +Employees), 'Histoire de César Birotteau,' and 'Les Petits +bourgeois' (Little Bourgeois). Of these twenty-four titles six +belong to novels, five of which are of great power, nine to +novelettes and short stories too admirable to be passed over +without notice, eight to novelettes and stories of interest and +value which need not, however, detain us, and one, 'Les Petits +bourgeois', to a novel of much promise unfortunately left +incomplete. 'Les Secrets de la princesse de Cadignan' is remarkable +chiefly as a study of the blind passion that often overtakes a man +of letters. Daniel d'Arthez, the author, a fine character and a +favorite with Balzac, succumbs to the wiles of the Princess of +Cadignan (formerly the dashing and fascinating Duchesse de +Maufrigneuse) and is happy in his subjection. The 'Histoire des +treize' contains three novelettes, linked together through the fact +that in each a band of thirteen young men, sworn to assist one +another in conquering society, play an important part. This volume +is the most frankly sensational of Balzac's works. 'La Duchesse de +Langeais' however, is more than sensational: it gives perhaps +Balzac's best description of the Faubourg St. Germain and one of +his ablest analyses of feminine character, while in the description +of General Montriveau's recognition of the Duchess in the Spanish +convent the novelist's dramatic power is seen at its highest. 'La +Fille aux yeux d'or,' which concludes the volume devoted to the +mysterious brotherhood, may be considered, with 'Sarrasine,' one of +the dark closets of the great building known as the 'Comédie +humaine.' Both stories deal with unnatural passions, and the first +is one of Balzac's most effective compositions. For sheer +voluptuousness of style there is little in literature to parallel +the description of the boudoir of the uncanny heroine. Very +different from these stories is 'Le Colonel Chabert,' the record of +the misfortunes of one of Napoleon's heroic soldiers, who after +untold hardships returns to France to find his wife married a +second time and determined to deny his existence. The law is +invoked, but the treachery of the wife induces the noble old man to +put an end to the proceedings, after which he sinks into an +indigent and pathetic senility. Balzac has never drawn a more +heart-moving figure, nor has he ever sounded more thoroughly the +depths of human selfishness. But the description of the battle of +Eylau and of Chabert's sufferings in retreat would alone suffice to +make the story memorable. 'L'Interdiction' is the proper pendant to +the history of this unfortunate soldier. In it another husband, the +Marquis d'Espard, suffers from the selfishness of his wife, one of +the worst characters in the range of Balzac's fiction. That she may +keep him from alienating his property to discharge a moral +obligation she endeavors to prove him insane. The legal +complications which ensue bring forward one of Balzac's great +figures, the judge of instruction, Popinot; but to appreciate him +the reader must go to the marvelous book itself. 'Gobseck' is a +study of a Parisian usurer, almost worthy of a place beside the +description of old Grandet; while 'Les Employés' is a +realistic study of bureaucratic life, which, besides showing a +wonderful familiarity with the details of a world of which Balzac +had little personal experience, contains several admirably drawn +characters and a sufficient amount of incident. But it is time to +leave these sketches and novels in miniature, and to pass by the +less important 'Scenes' of this fascinating Parisian life, in order +to consider in some detail the five novels of consummate power.</p> +<p>First of these in date of composition, and in popular estimation +at least among English readers, comes, 'Le Père Goriot.' It +is certainly trite to call the book a French "Lear," but the +expression emphasizes the supreme artistic power that could treat +the <i>motif</i> of one of Shakespeare's plays in a manner that +never forces a disadvantageous comparison with the great tragedy. +The retired vermicelli-maker is not as grand a figure as the doting +King of Britain, but he is as real. The French daughters, +Anastasie, Countess de Restaud, and Delphine, Baroness de Nucingen, +are not such types of savage wickedness as Regan and Goneril, but +they fit the nineteenth century as well as the British princesses +did their more barbarous day. Yet there is no Cordelia in 'Le +Père Goriot,' for the pale Victorine Taillefer cannot fill +the place of that noblest of daughters. This is but to say that +Balzac's bourgeois tragedy lacks that element of the noble that +every great poetic tragedy must have. The self-immolation of old +Goriot to the cold-hearted ambitions of his daughters is not noble, +but his parental passion touches the infinite, and so proves the +essential kinship of his creator with the creator of Lear. This +touch of the infinite, as in 'Eugénie Grandet,' lifts the +book up from the level of a merely masterly study of characters or +a merely powerful novel to that of the supreme masterpieces of +human genius. The marvelously lifelike description of the vulgar +Parisian boarding-house, the fascinating delineation of the +character of that king of convicts, Vautrin, and the fine analysis +of the ambitions of Rastignac (who comes nearer perhaps to being +<i>the</i> hero of the 'Comédie humaine' than any other of +its characters, and is here presented to us at the threshold of his +successful career) remain in the memory of every reader, but would +never alone have sufficed to make Balzac's name worthy of +immortality. The infinite quality of Goriot's passion would, +however, have conferred this honor on his creator had he never +written another book.</p> +<p>'Illusions perdues' and 'Splendeurs et misères des +courtisanes' might almost be regarded as one novel in seven parts. +More than any other of his works they show the sun of Balzac's +genius at its meridian. Nowhere else does he give us plots so +absorbing, nowhere else does he bring us so completely in contact +with the world his imagination has peopled. The first novel devotes +two of its parts to the provinces and one to Paris. The provincial +stories centre around two brothers-in-law, David Séchard and +Lucien de Rubempré, types of the practical and the artistic +intellect respectively. David, after struggling for fame and +fortune, succumbs and finds his recompense in the love of his wife +Eve, Lucien's sister, one of Balzac's noble women. Lucien, on the +other hand, after some provincial successes as a poet, tries the +great world of Paris, yields to its temptations, fails +ignominiously, and attempts suicide, but is rescued by the great +Vautrin, who has escaped from prison and is about to renew his war +on society disguised as a Spanish priest. Vautrin has conceived the +idea that as he can take no part in society, he will have a +representative in it and taste its pleasures through him. Lucien +accepts this disgraceful position and plunges once more into the +vortex, supported by the strong arm of the king of the convicts. +His career and that of his patron form the subject of the four +parts of the 'Splendeurs et misères' and are too complicated +to be described here. Suffice it to say that probably nowhere else +in fiction are the novel of character and the novel of incident so +splendidly combined; and certainly nowhere else in the range of his +work does Balzac so fully display all his master qualities. That +the story is sensational cannot be denied, but it is at least +worthy of being called the Iliad of Crime. Nemesis waits upon both +Lucien and Vautrin, and upon the poor courtesan Esther whom they +entrap in their toils, and when the two former are at last in +custody, Lucien commits suicide. Vautrin baffles his acute judge in +a wonderful interview; but with his cherished hope cut short by +Lucien's death, finally gives up the struggle. Here the novel might +have ended; yet Balzac adds a fourth part, in order to complete the +career of Vautrin. The famous convict is transformed into a +government spy, and engages to use his immense power against his +former comrades and in defense of the society he has hitherto +warred upon. The artistic propriety of this transformation may be +questioned, but not the power and interest of the novel of which it +is the finishing touch.</p> +<p>Many readers would put the companion novels 'La Cousine Bette' +and 'Le Cousin Pons' at the head of Balzac's works. They have not +the infinite pathos of 'Le Père Goriot,' or the superb +construction of the first three parts of the 'Splendeurs et +misères,' but for sheer strength the former at least is +unsurpassed in fiction. Never before or since have the effects of +vice in dragging down a man below the level of the lowest brute +been so portrayed as in Baron Hulot; never before or since has +female depravity been so illustrated as in the diabolical career of +Valérie Marneffe, probably the worst woman in fiction. As +for Cousine Bette herself, and her power to breed mischief and +crime, it suffices to say that she is worthy of a place beside the +two chief characters.</p> +<p>'Le Cousin Pons' is a very different book; one which, though +pathetic in the extreme, may be safely recommended to the youngest +reader. The hero who gives his name to the story is an old musician +who has worn out his welcome among his relations, but who becomes +an object of interest to them when they learn that his collection +of bric-a-brac is valuable and that he is about to die. The +intrigues that circulate around this collection and the childlike +German, Schmucke, to whom Pons has bequeathed it, are described as +only the author of 'Le Curé de Tours' could have succeeded +in doing; but the book contains also an almost perfect description +of the ideal friendship existing between Pons and Schmucke. One +remembers them longer than one does Frazier, the scoundrelly +advocate who cheats poor Schmucke; a fact which should be cited +against those who urge that Balzac is at home with his vicious +characters only.</p> +<p>The last novel of this group, 'César Birotteau,' is the +least powerful, though not perhaps the least popular. It is an +excellent study of bourgeois life, and therefore fills an important +place in the scheme of the 'Comedy,' describing as it does the +spreading ambitions of a rich but stupid perfumer, and containing +an admirable study of bankruptcy. It may be dismissed with the +remark that around the innocent Caesar surge most of the scoundrels +that figure in the 'Comédie humaine,' and with the regret +that it should have been completed while the far more powerful 'Les +Petits bourgeois' was left unfinished.</p> +<p>We now come to the concluding parts of the 'Études de +moeurs.' the 'Scenes' describing Political and Military Life. In +the first group are five novels and stories: 'L'Envers de +l'histoire contemporaine' (The Under Side of Contemporary History, +a fine story, but rather social than political), 'Une +Ténébreuse affaire' (A Shady Affair), 'Un +Épisode sous la Terreur,' 'Z. Marcas,' and 'Le Deputé +d'Arcis' (The Deputy of Arcis). Of these the 'Episode' is probably +the most admirable, although 'Z. Marcas' has not a little strength. +The 'Deputé,' like 'Les Petits bourgeois,' was continued by +M. Charles Rabou and a considerable part of it is not Balzac's; a +fact which is to be regretted, since practically it is the only one +of these stories that touches actual politics as the term is +usually understood. The military scenes are only two in number, +'Les Chouans' and 'Une Passion dans le désert.' The former +of these has been sufficiently described already; the latter is one +of the best known of the short stories, but rather deserves a place +beside 'La Fille aux yeux d'or.' Indeed, for Balzac's best military +scenes we must go to 'Le Colonel Chabert' or to 'Adieu.'</p> +<p>We now pass to those subterranean chambers of the great +structure we are exploring, the 'Études philosophiques.' +They are twenty in number, four being novels, one a composite +volume of tales, and the rest stories. The titles run as +follows:--'La Peau de chagrin,' 'L'Élixir de longue vie' +(The Elixir of Life), 'Melmoth réconcilié,' 'Le +Chef-d'oeuvre inconnu' (The Anonymous Masterpiece), 'Gambara,' +'Massimila Doni,' 'Le Réquisitionnaire,' 'Adieu,' 'El +Verdugo,' 'Les Marana,' 'L'Auberge rouge' (The Red Inn), 'Un Drame +au bord de la mer' (A Seaside Drama), 'L'Enfant maudit' (A Child +Accursed) 'Maître Cornélius' (Master Cornelius), 'Sur +Catherine de Médicis,' 'La Recherche de l'absolu,' 'Louis +Lambert,' 'Séraphita,' 'Les Proscrits,' and +'Jésus-Christ en Flandre.'</p> +<p>Of the novels, 'La Peau de chagrin' is easily first. Its central +theme is the world-old conflict between the infinite desires and +the finite powers of man. The hero, Raphael, is hardly, as M. +Barrière asserts, on a level with Hamlet, Faust, and +Manfred, but the struggle of his infinite and his finite natures is +almost as intensely interesting as the similar struggles in them. +The introduction of the talisman, the wild ass's skin that +accomplishes all the wishes of its owner, but on condition that it +is to shrink away in proportion to the intensity of those wishes, +and that when it disappears the owner's life is to end, gave to the +story a weird interest not altogether, perhaps, in keeping with its +realistic setting, and certainly forcing a disastrous comparison +with the three great poems named. But when all allowances are made, +one is forced to conclude that 'La Peau de chagrin' is a novel of +extraordinary power and absorbing interest; and that its +description of its hero's dissipations in the libertine circles of +Paris, and its portrayal of the sublime devotion of the heroine +Pauline for her slowly perishing lover, are scarcely to be +paralleled in literature. Far less powerful are the short stories +on similar themes, entitled 'L'Élixir de longue vie,' and +'Melmoth réconcilié' (Melmoth Reconciled), which give +us Balzac's rehandling of the Don Juan of Molière and Byron, +and the Melmoth of Maturin.</p> +<p>Below the 'Peau de chagrin,' but still among its author's best +novels, should be placed 'La Recherche de l'absolu,' which, as its +title implies, describes the efforts of a chemist to "prove by +chemical analysis the unity of composition of matter." In the +pursuit of his philosophic will-o'-the-wisp, Balthazar Claës +loses his fortune and sacrifices his noble wife and children. His +madness serves, however, to bring into relief the splendid +qualities of these latter; and it is just here, in its human rather +than in its philosophic bearings, that the story rises to real +greatness. Marguerite Claës, the daughter, is a noble heroine; +and if one wishes to see how Balzac's characters and ideas suffer +when treated by another though an able hand, one has but to read in +conjunction with this novel the 'Maître Guérin' of the +distinguished dramatist Émile Augier. A proper pendant to +this history of a noble genius perverted is 'La Confidence des +Ruggieri,' the second part of that remarkable composite 'Sur +Catherine de Médicis,' a book which in spite of its mixture +of history, fiction, and speculative politics is one of the most +suggestive of Balzac's minor productions.</p> +<p>Concerning 'Séraphita' and 'Louis Lambert,' the remaining +novels of this series, certain noted mystics assert that they +contain the essence of Balzac's genius, and at least suggest the +secret of the universe. Perhaps an ordinary critic may content +himself with saying that both books are remarkable proofs of their +author's power, and that the former is notable for its marvelous +descriptions of Norwegian scenery.</p> +<p>Of the lesser members of the philosophic group, nearly all are +admirable in their kind and degree. 'Le Chef-d'oeuvre inconnu' and +'Gambara' treat of the pains of the artistic life and temperament. +'Massimila Doni,' like 'Gambara,' treats of music, but also gives a +brilliant picture of Venetian life. 'Le réquisitionnaire,' +perhaps the best of Balzac's short stories, deals with the +phenomenon of second sight, as 'Adieu' does with that of mental +alienation caused by a sudden shock. 'Les Marana' is an absorbing +study of the effects of heredity; 'L'Auberge rouge' is an analysis +of remorse, as is also 'Un Drame au bord de la mer'; while +'L'Enfant maudit' is an analysis of the effects of extreme +sensibility, especially as manifested in the passion of poetic +love. Finally, 'Maître Cornelius' is a study of avarice, in +which is set a remarkable portrait of Louis XI.; 'Les Proscrits' is +a masterly sketch of the exile of Dante at Paris; and +'Jésus-Christ en Flandre' is an exquisite allegory, the most +delicate flower, perhaps, of Balzac's genius.</p> +<p>It remains only to say a few words about the third division of +the 'Comédie humaine,' viz., the 'Études +analytiques.' Only two members of the series, the 'Physiologie du +mariage' and the 'Petites misères de la vie conjugale,' were +ever completed, and they are not great enough to make us regret the +loss of the 'Pathology of Social Life' and the other unwritten +volumes. For the two books we have are neither novels nor profound +studies, neither great fiction nor great psychology. That they are +worth reading for their suggestiveness with regard to such +important subjects as marriage and conjugal life goes without +saying, since they are Balzac's; but that they add greatly to his +reputation, not even his most ardent admirer would be hardy enough +to affirm.</p> +<p>And now in conclusion, what can one say about this great writer +that will not fall far short of his deserts? Plainly, nothing, yet +a few points may be accentuated with profit. We should notice in +the first place that Balzac has consciously tried almost every form +of prose fiction, and has been nearly always splendidly successful. +In analytic studies of high, middle, and low life he has not his +superior. In the novel of intrigue and sensation he is easily a +master, while he succeeds at least fairly in a form of fiction at +just the opposite pole from this, to wit, the idyl ('Le Lys dans la +vallée'). In character sketches of extreme types, like +'Gobseck,' his supremacy has long been recognized, and he is almost +as powerful when he enters the world of mysticism, whither so few +of us can follow him. As a writer of novelettes he is unrivaled and +some of his short stories are worthy to rank with the best that his +followers have produced. In the extensive use of dialect he was a +pioneer; in romance he has 'La Peau de chagrin' and 'La Recherche +de l'absolu' to his credit; while some of the work in the tales +connected with the name of Catherine de Medici shows what he could +have done in historical fiction had he continued to follow Scott. +And what is true of the form of his fiction is true of its +elements. Tragedy, comedy, melodrama are all within his reach; he +can call up tears and shudders, laughter and smiles at will. He +knows the whole range of human emotions, and he dares to penetrate +into the arcana of passions almost too terrible or loathsome for +literature to touch.</p> +<p>In style, in the larger sense of the word, he is almost equally +supreme. He is the father of modern realism and remains its +greatest exponent. He retains always some of the good elements of +romance,--that is to say, he sees the thing as it ought to be,--and +he avoids the pitfalls of naturalism, being a painter and not a +photographer. In other words, like all truly great writers he never +forgets his ideals; but he is too impartial to his characters and +has too fast a grip on life to fall into the unrealities of +sentimentalism. It is true that he lacked the spontaneity that +characterized his great forerunner, Shakespeare, and his great +contemporary, George Sand; but this loss was made up by the +inevitable and impersonal character of his work when once his +genius was thoroughly aroused to action. His laborious method of +describing by an accumulation of details postponed the play of his +powers, which are at their height in the action of his characters; +yet sooner or later the inert masses of his composition were fused +into a burning whole. But if Balzac is primarily a dramatist in the +creation and manipulation of his characters, he is also a supreme +painter in his presentation of scenes. And what characters and what +scenes has he not set before us! Over two thousand personages move +through the 'Comédie humaine,' whose biographies MM. +Cerfberr and Christophe have collected for us in their admirable +'Répertoire de la comédie humaine,' and whose chief +types M. Paul Flat has described in the first series of his 'Essais +sur Balzac.' Some of these personages are of course shadowy; but an +amazingly large number live for us as truly as Shakespeare's heroes +and heroines do. Nor will any one who has trod the streets of +Balzac's Paris, or spent the summer with him at the chateau des +Aigues ('Les Paysans'), or in the beautiful valleys of Touraine, +ever forget the master's pictures.</p> +<p>Yet the Balzac who with intangible materials created living and +breathing men and women and unfading scenes, has been accused of +vitiating the French language and has been denied the possession of +verbal style. On this point French critics must give the final +verdict; but a foreigner may cite Taine's defense of that style, +and maintain that most of the liberties taken by Balzac with his +native language were forced on him by the novel and far-reaching +character of his work. Nor should it be forgotten that he was +capable at times of almost perfect passages of description, and +that he rarely confounded, as novelists are too apt to do, the +provinces of poetry and prose.</p> +<p>But one might write a hundred essays on Balzac and not exhaust +him. One might write a volume on his women, a volume to refute the +charge that his bad men are better drawn than his good, a volume to +discuss Mr. Henry James's epigrammatic declaration that a +five-franc piece may be fairly called the protagonist of the +'Comédie humaine.' In short one might go on defending and +praising and even criticizing Balzac for a lifetime, and be little +further advanced than when one began; for to criticize Balzac, is +it not to criticize life itself?</p> +<p class="sign"><img src="images/sign424.png" width="50%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BALZAC_1"></a> +<h3>THE MEETING IN THE CONVENT</h3> +<center>From 'The Duchess of Langeais'</center> +<br> +<center><b>I</b></center> +<br> +<p>In a Spanish town on an island of the Mediterranean there is a +convent of the Barefooted Carmelites, where the rule of the Order +instituted by Saint Theresa is still kept with the primitive rigor +of the reformation brought about by that illustrious woman. +Extraordinary as this fact may seem, it is true. Though the +monasteries of the Peninsula and those of the Continent were nearly +all destroyed or broken up by the outburst of the French Revolution +and the turmoil of the Napoleonic wars, yet on this island, +protected by the British fleets, the wealthy convent and its +peaceful inmates were sheltered from the dangers of change and +general spoliation. The storms from all quarters which shook the +first fifteen years of the nineteenth century subsided ere they +reached this lonely rock near the coast of Andalusia. If the name +of the great Emperor echoed fitfully upon its shores, it may be +doubted whether the fantastic march of his glory or the flaming +majesty of his meteoric life ever reached the comprehension of +those saintly women kneeling in their distant cloister.</p> +<p>A conventual rigor, which was never relaxed, gave to this haven +a special place in the thoughts and history of the Catholic world. +The purity of its rule drew to its shelter from different parts of +Europe sad women, whose souls, deprived of human ties, longed for +the death in life which they found here in the bosom of God. No +other convent was so fitted to wean the heart and teach it that +aloofness from the things of this world which the religious life +imperatively demands. On the Continent may be found a number of +such Houses, nobly planned to meet the wants of their sacred +purpose. Some are buried in the depths of solitary valleys; others +hang, as it were, in mid-air above the hills, clinging to the +mountain slopes or projecting from the verge of precipices. On all +sides man has sought out the poesy of the infinite, the solemnity +of silence: he has sought God; and on the mountain-tops, in the +abysmal depths, among the caverned cliffs he has found Him. Yet +nowhere as on this European islet, half African though it be, can +he find such differing harmonies all blending to lift the soul and +quell its springs of anguish; to cool its fevers, and give to the +sorrows of life a bed of rest.</p> +<p>The monastery is built at the extremity of the island at its +highest part, where the rock by some convulsion of Nature has been +rent sharply down to the sea, and presents at all points keen +angles and edges, slightly eaten away at the water-line by the +action of the waves, but insurmountable to all approach. The rock +is also protected from assault by dangerous reefs running far out +from its base, over which frolic the blue waters of the +Mediterranean. It is only from the sea that the visitor can +perceive the four principal parts of the square structure, which +adheres minutely as to shape, height, and the piercing of its +windows to the prescribed laws of monastic architecture. On the +side towards the town the church hides the massive lines of the +cloister, whose roof is covered with large tiles to protect it from +winds and storms, and also from the fierce heat of the sun. The +church, the gift of a Spanish family, looks down upon the town and +crowns it. Its bold yet elegant façade gives a noble aspect +to the little maritime city. Is it not a picture of terrestrial +sublimity? See the tiny town with clustering roofs, rising like an +amphitheatre from the picturesque port upward to the noble Gothic +frontal of the church, from which spring the slender shafts of the +bell-towers with their pointed finials: religion dominating life: +offering to man the end and the way of living,--image of a thought +altogether Spanish. Place this scene upon the bosom of the +Mediterranean beneath an ardent sky; plant it with palms whose +waving fronds mingle their green life with the sculptured leafage +of the immutable architecture; look at the white fringes of the sea +as it runs up the reef and they sparkle upon the sapphire of its +wave; see the galleries and the terraces built upon the roofs of +houses, where the inhabitants come at eve to breathe the +flower-scented air as it rises through the tree-tops from their +little gardens. Below, in the harbor, are the white sails. The +serenity of night is coming on; listen to the notes of the organ, +the chant of evening orisons, the echoing bells of the ships at +sea: on all sides sound and peace,--oftenest peace.</p> +<p>Within the church are three naves, dark and mysterious. The fury +of the winds evidently forbade the architect to build out lateral +buttresses, such as adorn all other cathedrals, and between which +little chapels are usually constructed. Thus the strong walls which +flank the lesser naves shed no light into the building. Outside, +their gray masses are shored up from point to point by enormous +beams. The great nave and its two small lateral galleries are +lighted solely by the rose-window of stained glass, which pierces +with miraculous art the wall above the great portal, whose +fortunate exposure permits a wealth of tracery and dentellated +stone-work belonging to that order of architecture miscalled +Gothic.</p> +<p>The greater part of the three naves is given up to the +inhabitants of the town who come to hear Mass and the Offices of +the Church. In front of the choir is a latticed screen, within +which brown curtains hang in ample folds, slightly parted in the +middle to give a limited view of the altar and the officiating +priest. The screen is divided at intervals by pillars that hold up +a gallery within the choir which contains the organ. This +construction, in harmony with the rest of the building, continues, +in sculptured wood, the little columns of the lateral galleries +which are supported by the pillars of the great nave. Thus it is +impossible for the boldest curiosity, if any such should dare to +mount the narrow balustrade of these galleries, to see farther into +the choir than the octagonal stained windows which pierce the apse +behind the high altar.</p> +<p>At the time of the French expedition into Spain for the purpose +of re-establishing the authority of Ferdinand VII., and after the +fall of Cadiz, a French general who was sent to the island to +obtain its recognition of the royal government prolonged his stay +upon it that he might reconnoitre the convent and gain, if +possible, admittance there. The enterprise was a delicate one. But +a man of passion,--a man whose life had been, so to speak, a series +of poems in action, who had lived romances instead of writing them; +above all a man of deeds,--might well be tempted by a project +apparently so impossible. To open for himself legally the gates of +a convent of women! The Pope and the Metropolitan Archbishop would +scarcely sanction it. Should he use force or artifice? In case of +failure was he not certain to lose his station and his military +future, besides missing his aim? The Duc d'Angoulême was +still in Spain; and of all the indiscretions which an officer in +favor with the commander-in-chief could commit, this alone would be +punished without pity. The general had solicited his present +mission for the purpose of following up a secret hope, albeit no +hope was ever so despairing. This last effort, however, was a +matter of conscience. The house of these Barefooted Carmelites was +the only Spanish convent which had escaped his search. While +crossing from the mainland, a voyage which took less than an hour, +a strong presentiment of success had seized his heart. Since then, +although he had seen nothing of the convent but its walls, nothing +of the nuns, not so much as their brown habit; though he had heard +only the echoes of their chanted liturgies,--he had gathered from +those walls and from these chants faint indications that seemed to +justify his fragile hope. Slight as the auguries thus capriciously +awakened might be, no human passion was ever more violently roused +than the curiosity of this French general. To the heart there are +no insignificant events; it magnifies all things; it puts in the +same balance the fall of an empire and the fall of a woman's +glove,--and oftentimes the glove outweighs the empire. But let us +give the facts in their actual simplicity: after the facts will +come the feelings.</p> +<p>An hour after the expedition had landed on the island the royal +authority was re-established. A few Spaniards who had taken refuge +there after the fall of Cadiz embarked on a vessel which the +general allowed them to charter for their voyage to London. There +was thus neither resistance nor reaction. This little insular +restoration could not, however, be accomplished without a Mass, at +which both companies of the troops were ordered to be present. Not +knowing the rigor of the Carmelite rule, the general hoped to gain +in the church some information about the nuns who were immured in +the convent, one of whom might be a being dearer to him than life, +more precious even than honor. His hopes were at first cruelly +disappointed. Mass was celebrated with the utmost pomp. In honor of +this solemn occasion the curtains which habitually hid the choir +were drawn aside, and gave to view the rich ornaments, the +priceless pictures, and the shrines incrusted with jewels whose +brilliancy surpassed that of the votive offerings fastened by the +mariners of the port to the pillars of the great nave. The nuns, +however, had retired to the seclusion of the organ gallery.</p> +<p>Yet in spite of this check, and while the Mass of thanksgiving +was being sung, suddenly and secretly the drama widened into an +interest as profound as any that ever moved the heart of man. The +Sister who played the organ roused an enthusiasm so vivid that not +one soldier present regretted the order which had brought him to +the church. The men listened to the music with pleasure; the +officers were carried away by it. As for the general, he remained +to all appearance calm and cold: the feelings with which he heard +the notes given forth by the nun are among the small number of +earthly things whose expression is withheld from impotent human +speech, but which--like death, like God, like eternity--can be +perceived only at their slender point of contact with the heart of +man. By a strange chance the music of the organ seemed to be that +of Rossini,--a composer who more than any other has carried human +passion into the art of music, and whose works by their number and +extent will some day inspire an Homeric respect. From among the +scores of this fine genius the nun seemed to have chiefly studied +that of Moses in Egypt; doubtless because the feelings of sacred +music are there carried to the highest pitch. Perhaps these two +souls--one so gloriously European, the other unknown--had met +together in some intuitive perception of the same poetic thought. +This idea occurred to two officers now present, true +<i>dilettanti</i>, who no doubt keenly regretted the Théatre +Favart in their Spanish exile. At last, at the Te Deum, it was +impossible not to recognize a French soul in the character which +the music suddenly took on. The triumph of his Most Christian +Majesty evidently roused to joy the heart of that cloistered nun. +Surely she was a Frenchwoman. Presently the patriotic spirit burst +forth, sparkling like a jet of light through the antiphonals of the +organ, as the Sister recalled melodies breathing the delicacy of +Parisian taste, and blended them with vague memories of our +national anthems. Spanish hands could not have put into this +graceful homage paid to victorious arms the fire that thus betrayed +the origin of the musician.</p> +<p>"France is everywhere!" said a soldier.</p> +<p>The general left the church during the Te Deum; it was +impossible for him to listen to it. The notes of the musician +revealed to him a woman loved to madness; who had buried herself so +deeply in the heart of religion, hid herself so carefully away from +the sight of the world, that up to this time she had escaped the +keen search of men armed not only with immense power, but with +great sagacity and intelligence. The hopes which had wakened in the +general's heart seemed justified as he listened to the vague echo +of a tender and melancholy air, 'La Fleuve du Tage,'--a ballad +whose prelude he had often heard in Paris in the boudoir of the +woman he loved, and which this nun now used to express, amid the +joys of the conquerors, the suffering of an exiled heart. Terrible +moment! to long for the resurrection of a lost love; to find that +love--still lost; to meet it mysteriously after five years in which +passion, exasperated by the void, had been intensified by the +useless efforts made to satisfy it.</p> +<p>Who is there that has not, once at least in his life, upturned +everything about him, his papers and his receptacles, taxing his +memory impatiently as he seeks some precious lost object; and then +felt the ineffable pleasure of finding it after days consumed in +the search, after hoping and despairing of its recovery,--spending +upon some trifle an excitement of mind almost amounting to a +passion? Well, stretch this fury of search through five long years; +put a woman, a heart, a love in the place of the insignificant +trifle; lift the passion into the highest realms of feeling; and +then picture to yourself an ardent man, a man with the heart of +lion and the front of Jove, one of those men who command, and +communicate to those about them, respectful terror,--you will then +understand the abrupt departure of the general during the Te Deum, +at the moment when the prelude of an air, once heard in Paris with +delight under gilded ceilings, vibrated through the dark naves of +the church by the sea.</p> +<p>He went down the hilly street which led up to the convent, +without pausing until the sonorous echoes of the organ could no +longer reach his ear. Unable to think of anything but of the love +that like a volcanic eruption rent his heart, the French general +only perceived that the Te Deum was ended when the Spanish +contingent poured from the church. He felt that his conduct and +appearance were open to ridicule, and he hastily resumed his place +at the head of the cavalcade, explaining to the alcalde and to the +governor of the town that a sudden indisposition had obliged him to +come out into the air. Then it suddenly occurred to him to use the +pretext thus hastily given, as a means of prolonging his stay on +the island. Excusing himself on the score of increased illness, he +declined to preside at the banquet given by the authorities of the +island to the French officers, and took to his bed, after writing +to the major-general that a passing illness compelled him to turn +over his command to the colonel. This commonplace artifice, natural +as it was, left him free from all duties and able to seek the +fulfilment of his hopes. Like a man essentially Catholic and +monarchical, he inquired the hours of the various services, and +showed the utmost interest in the duties of religion,--a piety +which in Spain excited no surprise.</p> +<br> +<center><b>II</b></center> +<br> +<p>The following day, while the soldiers were embarking, the +general went up to the convent to be present at vespers. He found +the church deserted by the townspeople, who in spite of their +natural devotion were attracted to the port by the embarkation of +the troops. The Frenchman, glad to find himself alone in the +church, took pains to make the clink of his spurs resound through +the vaulted roof; he walked noisily, and coughed, and spoke aloud +to himself, hoping to inform the nuns, but especially the Sister at +the organ, that if the French soldiers were departing, one at least +remained behind. Was this singular method of communication heard +and understood? The general believed it was. In the Magnificat the +organ seemed to give an answer which came to him in the vibrations +of the air. The soul of the nun floated towards him on the wings of +the notes she touched, quivering with the movements of the sound. +The music burst forth with power; it glorified the church. This +hymn of joy, consecrated by the sublime liturgy of Roman +Christianity to the uplifting of the soul in presence of the +splendors of the ever-living God, became the utterance of a heart +terrified at its own happiness in presence of the splendors of a +perishable love, which still lived, and came to move it once more +beyond the tomb where this woman had buried herself, to rise again +the bride of Christ.</p> +<p>The organ is beyond all question the finest, the most daring, +the most magnificent of the instruments created by human genius. It +is an orchestra in itself, from which a practiced hand may demand +all things; for it expresses all things. Is it not, as it were, a +coign of vantage, where the soul may poise itself ere it springs +into space, bearing, as it flies, the listening mind through a +thousand scenes of life towards the infinite which parts earth from +heaven? The longer a poet listens to its gigantic harmonies, the +more fully will he comprehend that between kneeling humanity and +the God hidden by the dazzling rays of the Holy of Holies, the +hundred voices of terrestrial choirs can alone bridge the vast +distance and interpret to Heaven the prayers of men in all the +omnipotence of their desires, in the diversities of their woe, with +the tints of their meditations and their ecstasies, with the +impetuous spring of their repentance, and the thousand imaginations +of their manifold beliefs. Yes! beneath these soaring vaults the +harmonies born of the genius of sacred things find a yet unheard-of +grandeur, which adorns and strengthens them. Here the dim light, +the deep silence, the voices alternating with the solemn tones of +the organ, seem like a veil through which the luminous attributes +of God himself pierce and radiate. Yet all these sacred riches now +seem flung like a grain of incense on the frail altar of an earthly +love, in presence of the eternal throne of a jealous and avenging +Deity. The joy of the nun had not the gravity which properly +belongs to the solemnity of the Magnificat. She gave to the music +rich and graceful modulations, whose rhythms breathed of human +gayety; her measures ran into the brilliant cadences of a great +singer striving to express her love, and the notes rose buoyantly +like the carol of a bird by the side of its mate. At moments she +darted back into the past, as if to sport there or to weep there +for an instant. Her changing moods had something discomposed about +them, like the agitations of a happy woman rejoicing at the return +of her lover. Then, as these supple strains of passionate emotion +ceased, the soul that spoke returned upon itself; the musician +passed from the major to the minor key, and told her hearer the +story of her present. She revealed to him her long melancholy, the +slow malady of her moral being,--every day a feeling crushed, every +night a thought subdued, hour by hour a heart burning down to +ashes. After soft modulations the music took on slowly, tint by +tint, the hue of deepest sadness. Soon it poured forth in echoing +torrents the well-springs of grief, till suddenly the higher notes +struck clear like the voice of angels, as if to tell to her lost +love--lost, but not forgotten--that the reunion of their souls must +be in heaven, and only there: hope most precious! Then came the +Amen. In that no joy, no tears, nor sadness, nor regrets, but a +return to God. The last chord that sounded was grave, solemn, +terrible. The musician revealed the nun in the garb of her +vocation; and as the thunder of the basses rolled away, causing the +hearer to shudder through his whole being, she seemed to sink into +the tomb from which for a brief moment she had risen. As the echoes +slowly ceased to vibrate along the vaulted roofs, the church, made +luminous by the music, fell suddenly into profound obscurity.</p> +<p>The general, carried away by the course of this powerful genius, +had followed her, step by step, along her way. He comprehended in +their full meaning the pictures that gleamed through that burning +symphony; for him those chords told all. For him, as for the +Sister, this poem of sound was the future, the past, the present. +Music, even the music of an opera, is it not to tender and poetic +souls, to wounded and suffering hearts, a text which they interpret +as their memories need? If the heart of a poet must be given to a +musician, must not poetry and love be listeners ere the great +musical works of art are understood? Religion, love, and music: are +they not the triple expression of one fact, the need of expansion, +the need of touching with their own infinite the infinite beyond +them, which is in the fibre of all noble souls? These three forms +of poesy end in God, who alone can unwind the knot of earthly +emotion. Thus this holy human trinity joins itself to the holiness +of God, of whom we make to ourselves no conception unless we +surround him by the fires of love and the golden cymbals of music +and light and harmony.</p> +<p>The French general divined that on this desert rock, surrounded +by the surging seas, the nun had cherished music to free her soul +of the excess of passion that consumed it. Did she offer her love +as a homage to God? Did the love triumph over the vows she had made +to Him? Questions difficult to answer. But, beyond all doubt, the +lover had found in a heart dead to the world a love as passionate +as that which burned within his own.</p> +<p>When vespers ended he returned to the house of the alcalde, +where he was quartered. Giving himself over, a willing prey, to the +delights of a success long expected, laboriously sought, his mind +at first could dwell on nothing else,--he was still loved. Solitude +had nourished the love of that heart, just as his own had thriven +on the barriers, successively surmounted, which this woman had +placed between herself and him. This ecstasy of the spirit had its +natural duration; then came the desire to see this woman, to +withdraw her from God, to win her back to himself,--a bold project, +welcome to a bold man. After the evening repast, he retired to his +room to escape questions and think in peace, and remained plunged +in deep meditation throughout the night. He rose early and went to +Mass. He placed himself close to the latticed screen, his brow +touching the brown curtain. He longed to rend it away; but he was +not alone, his host had accompanied him, and the least imprudence +might compromise the future of his love and ruin his new-found +hopes. The organ was played, but not by the same hand; the musician +of the last two days was absent from its key-board. All was chill +and pale to the general. Was his mistress worn out by the emotions +which had wellnigh broken down his own vigorous heart? Had she so +truly shared and comprehended his faithful and eager love that she +now lay exhausted and dying in her cell? At the moment when such +thoughts as these rose in the general's mind, he heard beside him +the voice beloved; he knew the clear ring of its tones. The voice, +slightly changed by a tremor which gave it the timid grace and +modesty of a young girl, detached itself from the volume of song, +like the voice of a prima donna in the harmonies of her final +notes. It gave to the ear an impression like the effect to the eye +of a fillet of silver or gold threading a dark frieze. It was +indeed she! Still Parisian, she had not lost her gracious charm, +though she had forsaken the coronet and adornments of the world for +the frontlet and serge of a Carmelite. Having revealed her love the +night before in the praises addressed to the Lord of all, she +seemed now to say to her lover:--"Yes, it is I: I am here. I love +forever; yet I am aloof from love. Thou shalt hear me; my soul +shall enfold thee; but I must stay beneath the brown shroud of this +choir, from which no power can tear me. Thou canst not see me."</p> +<p>"It is she!" whispered the general to himself, as he raised his +head and withdrew his hands from his face; for he had not been able +to bear erect the storm of feeling that shook his heart as the +voice vibrated through the arches and blended with the murmur of +the waves. A storm raged without, yet peace was within the +sanctuary. The rich voice still caressed the ear, and fell like +balm upon the parched heart of the lover; it flowered in the air +about him, from which he breathed the emanations of her spirit +exhaling her love through the aspirations of its prayer.</p> +<p>The alcalde came to rejoin his guest, and found him bathed in +tears at the elevation of the Host which was chanted by the nun. +Surprised to find such devotion in a French officer, he invited the +confessor of the convent to join them at supper, and informed the +general, to whom no news had ever given such pleasure, of what he +had done. During the supper the general made the confessor the +object of much attention, and thus confirmed the Spaniards in the +high opinion they had formed of his piety. He inquired with grave +interest the number of the nuns, and asked details about the +revenues of the convent and its wealth, with the air of a man who +politely wished to choose topics which occupied the mind of the +good old priest. Then he inquired about the life led by the +sisters. Could they go out? Could they see friends?</p> +<p>"Senhor," said the venorable priest, "the rule is severe. If the +permission of our Holy Father must be obtained before a woman can +enter a house of Saint Bruno [the Chartreux] the like rule exists +here. It is impossible for any man to enter a convent of the +Bare-footed Carmelites, unless he is a priest delegated by the +archbishop for duty in the House. No nun can go out. It is true, +however, that the Great Saint, Mother Theresa, did frequently leave +her cell. A Mother-superior can alone, under authority of the +archbishop, permit a nun to see her friends, especially in case of +illness. As this convent is one of the chief Houses of the Order, +it has a Mother-superior residing in it. We have several +foreigners,--among them a Frenchwoman, Sister Theresa, the one who +directs the music in the chapel."</p> +<p>"Ah!" said the general, feigning surprise: "she must have been +gratified by the triumph of the House of Bourbon?"</p> +<p>"I told them the object of the Mass; they are always rather +curious."</p> +<p>"Perhaps Sister Theresa has some interests in France; she might +be glad to receive some news, or ask some questions?"</p> +<p>"I think not; or she would have spoken to me."</p> +<p>"As a compatriot," said the general, "I should be curious to +see--that is, if it were possible, if the superior would consent, +if--"</p> +<p>"At the grating, even in the presence of the reverend Mother, an +interview would be absolutely impossible for any ordinary man, no +matter who he was; but in favor of a liberator of a Catholic throne +and our holy religion, possibly, in spite of the rigid rule of our +Mother Theresa, the rule might be relaxed," said the confessor. "I +will speak about it."</p> +<p>"How old is Sister Theresa?" asked the lover, who dared not +question the priest about the beauty of the nun.</p> +<p>"She is no longer of any age," said the good old man, with a +simplicity which made the general shudder.</p> +<br> +<center><b>III</b></center> +<br> +<p>The next day, before the <i>siesta</i>, the confessor came to +tell the general that Sister Theresa and the Mother-superior +consented to receive him at the grating that evening before the +hour of vespers. After the <i>siesta</i>, during which the +Frenchman had whiled away the time by walking round the port in the +fierce heat of the sun, the priest came to show him the way into +the convent.</p> +<p>He was guided through a gallery which ran the length of the +cemetery, where fountains and trees and numerous arcades gave a +cool freshness in keeping with that still and silent spot. When +they reached the end of this long gallery, the priest led his +companion into a parlor, divided in the middle by a grating covered +with a brown curtain. On the side which we must call public, and +where the confessor left the general, there was a wooden bench +along one side of the wall; some chairs, also of wood, were near +the grating. The ceiling was of wood, crossed by heavy beams of the +evergreen oak, without ornament. Daylight came from two windows in +the division set apart for the nuns, and was absorbed by the brown +tones of the room; so that it barely showed the picture of the +great black Christ, and those of Saint Theresa and the Blessed +Virgin, which hung on the dark panels of the walls.</p> +<p>The feelings of the general turned, in spite of their violence, +to a tone of melancholy. He grew calm in these calm precincts. +Something mighty as the grave seized him beneath these chilling +rafters. Was it not the eternal silence, the deep peace, the near +presence of the infinite? Through the stillness came the fixed +thought of the cloister,--that thought which glides through the air +in the half-lights, and is in all things,--the thought +unchangeable; nowhere seen, which yet grows vast to the +imagination; the all-comprising phrase, <i>the peace of God</i>. It +enters there, with living power, into the least religious heart. +Convents of men are not easily conceivable; man seems feeble and +unmanly in them. He is born to act, to fulfil a life of toil; and +he escapes it in his cell. But in a monastery of women what +strength to endure, and yet what touching weakness! A man may be +pushed by a thousand sentiments into the depths of an abbey; he +flings himself into them as from a precipice. But the woman is +drawn only by one feeling; she does not unsex herself,--she +espouses holiness. You may say to the man, Why did you not +struggle? but to the cloistered woman life is a struggle still.</p> +<p>The general found in this mute parlor of the seagirt convent +memories of himself. Love seldom reaches upward to solemnity; but +love in the bosom of God,--is there nothing solemn there? Yes, more +than a man has the right to hope for in this nineteenth century, +with our manners and our customs what they are.</p> +<p>The general's soul was one on which such impressions act. His +nature was noble enough to forget self-interest, honors, Spain, the +world, or Paris, and rise to the heights of feeling roused by this +unspeakable termination of his long pursuit. What could be more +tragic? How many emotions held these lovers, reunited at last on +this granite ledge far out at sea, yet separated by an idea, an +impassable barrier. Look at this man, saying to himself, "Can I +triumph over God in that heart?"</p> +<p>A slight noise made him quiver. The brown curtain was drawn +back; he saw in the half-light a woman standing, but her face was +hidden from him by the projection of a veil, which lay in many +folds upon her head. According to the rule of the Order she was +clothed in the brown garb whose color has become proverbial. The +general could not see the naked feet, which would have told him the +frightful emaciation of her body; yet through the thick folds of +the coarse robe that swathed her, his heart divined that tears and +prayers and passion and solitude had wasted her away.</p> +<p>The chill hand of a woman, doubtless the Mother-superior, held +back the curtain, and the general, examining this unwelcome witness +of the interview, encountered the deep grave eyes of an old nun, +very aged, whose clear, even youthful, glance belied the wrinkles +that furrowed her pale face.</p> +<p>"Madame la duchesse," he said, in a voice shaken by emotion, to +the Sister, who bowed her head, "does your companion understand +French?"</p> +<p>"There is no duchess here," replied the nun. "You are in +presence of Sister Theresa. The woman whom you call my companion is +my Mother in God, my superior here below."</p> +<p>These words, humbly uttered by a voice that once harmonized with +the luxury and elegance in which this woman had lived queen of the +world of Paris, that fell from lips whose language had been of old +so gay, so mocking, struck the general as if with an electric +shock.</p> +<p>"My holy Mother speaks only Latin and Spanish," she added.</p> +<p>"I understand neither. Dear Antoinette, make her my +excuses."</p> +<p>As she heard her name softly uttered by a man once so hard to +her, the nun was shaken by emotion, betrayed only by the light +quivering of her veil, on which the light now fully fell.</p> +<p>"My brother," she said, passing her sleeve beneath her veil, +perhaps to wipe her eyes, "my name is Sister Theresa."</p> +<p>Then she turned to the Mother, and said to her in Spanish a few +words which the general plainly heard. He knew enough of the +language to understand it, perhaps to speak it. "My dear Mother, +this gentleman presents to you his respects, and begs you to excuse +him for not laying them himself at your feet; but he knows neither +of the languages which you speak."</p> +<p>The old woman slowly bowed her head; her countenance took an +expression of angelic sweetness, tempered, nevertheless, by the +consciousness of her power and dignity.</p> +<p>"You know this gentleman?" she asked, with a piercing glance at +the Sister.</p> +<p>"Yes, my Mother."</p> +<p>"Retire to your cell, my daughter," said the Superior in a tone +of authority.</p> +<p>The general hastily withdrew to the shelter of the curtain, lest +his face should betray the anguish these words cost him; but he +fancied that the penetrating eyes of the Superior followed him even +into the shadow. This woman, arbiter of the frail and fleeting joy +he had won at such cost, made him afraid; he trembled, he whom a +triple range of cannon could not shake.</p> +<p>The duchess walked to the door, but there she turned. "My +Mother," she said, in a voice horribly calm, "this Frenchman is one +of my brothers."</p> +<p>"Remain, therefore, my daughter," said the old woman, after a +pause.</p> +<p>The jesuitism of this answer revealed such love and such regret, +that a man of less firmness than the general would have betrayed +his joy in the midst of a peril so novel to him. But what value +could there be in the words, looks, gestures of a love that must be +hidden from the eyes of a lynx, the claws of a tiger? The Sister +came back.</p> +<p>"You see, my brother," she said, "what I have dared to do that I +might for one moment speak to you of your salvation, and tell you +of the prayers which day by day my soul offers to heaven on your +behalf. I have committed a mortal sin,--I have lied. How many days +of penitence to wash out that lie! But I shall suffer for you. You +know not, my brother, the joy of loving in heaven, of daring to +avow affections that religion has purified, that have risen to the +highest regions, that at last we know and feel with the soul alone. +If the doctrines--if the spirit of the saint to whom we owe this +refuge had not lifted me above the anguish of earth to a world, not +indeed where she is, but far above my lower life, I could not have +seen you now. But I can see you, I can hear you, and remain +calm."</p> +<p>"Antoinette," said the general, interrupting these words, +"suffer me to see you--you, whom I love passionately, to madness, +as you once would have had me love you."</p> +<p>"Do not call me Antoinette, I implore you: memories of the past +do me harm. See in me only the Sister Theresa, a creature trusting +all to the divine pity. And," she added, after a pause, "subdue +yourself, my brother. Our Mother would separate us instantly if +your face betrayed earthly passions, or your eyes shed tears."</p> +<p>The general bowed his head, as if to collect himself; when he +again lifted his eyes to the grating he saw between two bars the +pale, emaciated, but still ardent face of the nun. Her complexion, +where once had bloomed the loveliness of youth,--where once there +shone the happy contrast of a pure, clear whiteness with the colors +of a Bengal rose,--now had the tints of a porcelain cup through +which a feeble light showed faintly. The beautiful hair of which +this woman was once so proud was shaven; a white band bound her +brows and was wrapped around her face. Her eyes, circled with dark +shadows due to the austerities of her life, glanced at moments with +a feverish light, of which their habitual calm was but the mask. In +a word, of this woman nothing remained but her soul.</p> +<p>"Ah! you will leave this tomb--you, who are my life! You +belonged to me; you were not free to give yourself--not even to +God. Did you not promise to sacrifice all to the least of my +commands? Will you now think me worthy to claim that promise, if I +tell you what I have done for your sake? I have sought you through +the whole world. For five years you have been the thought of every +instant, the occupation of every hour, of my life. My +friends--friends all-powerful as you know--have helped me to search +the convents of France, Spain, Italy, Sicily, America. My love has +deepened with every fruitless search. Many a long journey I have +taken on a false hope. I have spent my life and the strong beatings +of my heart about the walls of cloisters. I will not speak to you +of a fidelity unlimited. What is it?--nothing compared to the +infinitude of my love! If in other days your remorse was real, you +cannot hesitate to follow me now."</p> +<p>"You forget that I am not free."</p> +<p>"The duke is dead," he said hastily.</p> +<p>Sister Theresa colored. "May Heaven receive him!" she said, with +quick emotion: "he was generous to me. But I did not speak of those +ties: one of my faults was my willingness to break them without +scruple for you."</p> +<p>"You speak of your vows," cried the general, frowning. "I little +thought that anything would weigh in your heart against our love. +But do not fear, Antoinette; I will obtain a brief from the Holy +Father which will absolve your vows. I will go to Rome; I will +petition every earthly power; if God himself came down from heaven +I--"</p> +<p>"Do not blaspheme!"</p> +<p>"Do not fear how God would see it! Ah! I wish I were as sure +that you will leave these walls with me; that to-night--to-night, +you would embark at the feet of these rocks. Let us go to find +happiness! I know not where--at the ends of the earth! With me you +will come back to life, to health--in the shelter of my love!"</p> +<p>"Do not say these things," replied the Sister; "you do not know +what you now are to me. I love you better than I once loved you. I +pray to God for you daily. I see you no longer with the eyes of my +body. If you but knew, Armand, the joy of being able, without +shame, to spend myself upon a pure love which God protects! You do +not know the joy I have in calling down the blessings of heaven +upon your head. I never pray for myself: God will do with me +according to his will. But you--at the price of my eternity I would +win the assurance that you are happy in this world, that you will +be happy in another throughout the ages. My life eternal is all +that misfortunes have left me to give you. I have grown old in +grief; I am no longer young or beautiful. Ah! you would despise a +nun who returned to be a woman; no sentiment, not even maternal +love, could absolve her. What could you say to me that would shake +the unnumbered reflections my heart has made in five long +years,--and which have changed it, hollowed it, withered it? Ah! I +should have given something less sad to God!"</p> +<p>"What can I say to you, dear Antoinette? I will say that I love +you; that affection, love, true love, the joy of living in a heart +all ours,--wholly ours, without one reservation,--is so rare, so +difficult to find, that I once doubted you; I put you to cruel +tests. But to-day I love and trust you with all the powers of my +soul. If you will follow me I will listen throughout life to no +voice but thine. I will look on no face--"</p> +<p>"Silence, Armand! you shorten the sole moments which are given +to us to see each other here below."</p> +<p>"Antoinette! will you follow me?"</p> +<p>"I never leave you. I live in your heart--but with another power +than that of earthly pleasure, or vanity, or selfish joy. I live +here for you, pale and faded, in the bosom of God. If God is just, +you will be happy."</p> +<p>"Phrases! you give me phrases! But if I will to have you pale +and faded,--if I cannot be happy unless you are with me? What! will +you forever place duties before my love? Shall I never be above all +things else in your heart? In the past you put the world, or +self--I know not what--above me; to-day it is God, it is my +salvation. In this Sister Theresa I recognize the duchess; ignorant +of the joys of love, unfeeling beneath a pretense of tenderness! +You do not love me! you never loved me!--"</p> +<p>"Oh, my brother!--"</p> +<p>"You will not leave this tomb. You love my soul, you say: well! +you shall destroy it forever and ever. I will kill myself--"</p> +<p>"My Mother!" cried the nun, "I have lied to you; this man is my +lover."</p> +<p>The curtain fell. The general, stunned, heard the doors close +with violence.</p> +<p>"She loves me still!" he cried, comprehending all that was +revealed in the cry of the nun. "I will find means to carry her +away!"</p> +<p>He left the island immediately, and returned to France.</p> +<p class="loc">Translation copyrighted by Roberts Brothers.</p> +<br> +<a name="BALZAC_2"></a> +<h3>'AN EPISODE UNDER THE TERROR'</h3> +<p>On the 22d of January, 1793, towards eight o'clock in the +evening, an old gentlewoman came down the sharp declivity of the +Faubourg Saint-Martin, which ends near the church of Saint-Laurent +in Paris. Snow had fallen throughout the day, so that footfalls +could be scarcely heard. The streets were deserted. The natural +fear inspired by such stillness was deepened by the terror to which +all France was then a prey.</p> +<p>The old lady had met no one. Her failing sight hindered her from +perceiving in the distance a few pedestrians, sparsely scattered +like shadows, along the broad road of the faubourg. She was walking +bravely through the solitude as if her age were a talisman to guard +her from danger; but after passing the Rue des Morts she fancied +that she heard the firm, heavy tread of a man coming behind her. +The thought seized her mind that she had been listening to it +unconsciously for some time. Terrified at the idea of being +followed, she tried to walk faster to reach a lighted shop-window, +and settle the doubt which thus assailed her. When well beyond the +horizontal rays of light thrown across the pavement, she turned +abruptly and saw a human form looming through the fog. The +indistinct glimpse was enough. She staggered for an instant under +the weight of terror, for she no longer doubted that this unknown +man had tracked her, step by step, from her home. The hope of +escaping such a spy lent strength to her feeble limbs. Incapable of +reasoning, she quickened her steps to a run, as if it were possible +to escape a man necessarily more agile than she. After running for +a few minutes, she reached the shop of a pastry-cook, entered it, +and fell, rather than sat, down on a chair which stood before the +counter.</p> +<p>As she lifted the creaking latch of the door, a young woman, who +was at work on a piece of embroidery, looked up and recognized +through the glass panes the antiquated mantle of purple silk which +wrapped the old lady, and hastened to pull open a drawer, as if to +take from thence something that she had to give her. The action and +the expression of the young woman not only implied a wish to get +rid of the stranger, as of some one most unwelcome, but she let +fall an exclamation of impatience at finding the drawer empty. +Then, without looking at the lady, she came rapidly from behind the +counter, and went towards the back-shop to call her husband, who +appeared at once.</p> +<p>"Where have you put ---- ----?" she asked him, mysteriously, +calling his attention to the old lady by a glance, and not +concluding her sentence.</p> +<p>Although the pastry-cook could see nothing but the enormous +black-silk hood circled with purple ribbons which the stranger +wore, he disappeared, with a glance at his wife which seemed to +say, "Do you suppose I should leave <i>that</i> on your +counter?"</p> +<p>Surprised at the silence and immobility of her customer, the +wife came forward, and was seized with a sudden movement of +compassion as well as of curiosity when she looked at her. Though +the complexion of the old gentlewoman was naturally livid, like +that of a person vowed to secret austerities, it was easy to see +that some recent alarm had spread an unusual paleness over her +features. Her head-covering was so arranged as to hide the hair, +whitened no doubt by age, for the cleanly collar of her dress +proved that she wore no powder. The concealment of this natural +adornment gave to her countenance a sort of conventual severity; +but its features were grave and noble. In former days the habits +and manners of people of quality were so different from those of +all other classes that it was easy to distinguish persons of noble +birth. The young shop-woman felt certain, therefore, that the +stranger was a <i>ci-devant</i>, and one who had probably belonged +to the court.</p> +<p>"Madame?" she said, with involuntary respect, forgetting that +the title was proscribed.</p> +<p>The old lady made no answer. Her eyes were fixed on the glass of +the shop-window, as if some alarming object were painted upon +it.</p> +<p>"What is the matter, <i>citoyenne</i>?" asked the master of the +establishment, re-entering, and drawing the attention of his +customer to a little cardboard box covered with blue paper, which +he held out to her.</p> +<p>"It is nothing, nothing, my friends," she answered in a gentle +voice, as she raised her eyes to give the man a thankful look. +Seeing a phrygian cap upon his head, a cry escaped her:--"Ah! it is +you who have betrayed me!"</p> +<p>The young woman and her husband replied by a deprecating gesture +of horror which caused the unknown lady to blush, either for her +harsh suspicion or from the relief of feeling it unjust.</p> +<p>"Excuse me," she said, with childlike sweetness. Then taking a +gold <i>louis</i> from her pocket, she offered it to the +pastry-cook. "Here is the sum we agreed upon," she added.</p> +<p>There is a poverty which poor people quickly divine. The +shopkeeper and his wife looked at each other with a glance at the +old lady that conveyed a mutual thought. The <i>louis</i> was +doubtless her last. The hands of the poor woman trembled as she +offered it, and her eyes rested upon it sadly, yet not with +avarice. She seemed to feel the full extent of her sacrifice. +Hunger and want were traced upon her features in lines as legible +as those of timidity and ascetic habits. Her clothing showed +vestiges of luxury. It was of silk, well-worn; the mantle was +clean, though faded; the laces carefully darned; in short, here +were the rags of opulence. The two shopkeepers, divided between +pity and self-interest, began to soothe their conscience with +words:--</p> +<p>"<i>Citoyenne</i>, you seem very feeble--"</p> +<p>"Would Madame like to take something?" asked the wife, cutting +short her husband's speech.</p> +<p>"We have some very good broth," he added.</p> +<p>"It is so cold, perhaps Madame is chilled by her walk; but you +can rest here and warm yourself."</p> +<p>"The devil is not so black as he is painted," cried the +husband.</p> +<p>Won by the kind tone of these words, the old lady admitted that +she had been followed by a man and was afraid of going home +alone.</p> +<p>"Is that all?" said the man with the phrygian cap. "Wait for me, +<i>citoyenne</i>."</p> +<p>He gave the <i>louis</i> to his wife. Then moved by a species of +gratitude which slips into the shopkeeping soul when its owner +receives an exorbitant price for an article of little value, he +went to put on his uniform as a National guard, took his hat, slung +on his sabre, and reappeared under arms. But the wife meantime had +reflected. Reflection, as often happens in many hearts, had closed +the open hand of her benevolence. Uneasy, and alarmed lest her +husband should be mixed up in some dangerous affair, she pulled him +by the flap of his coat, intending to stop him; but the worthy man, +obeying the impulse of charity, promptly offered to escort the poor +lady to her home.</p> +<p>"It seems that the man who has given her this fright is prowling +outside," said his wife nervously.</p> +<p>"I am afraid he is," said the old lady, with much +simplicity.</p> +<p>"Suppose he should be a spy. Perhaps it is a conspiracy. Don't +go. Take back the box." These words, whispered in the pastry-cook's +ear by the wife of his bosom, chilled the sudden compassion that +had warmed him.</p> +<p>"Well, well, I will just say two words to the man and get rid of +him," he said, opening the door and hurrying out.</p> +<p>The old gentlewoman, passive as a child and half paralyzed with +fear, sat down again. The shopkeeper almost instantly reappeared; +but his face, red by nature and still further scorched by the fires +of his bakery, had suddenly turned pale, and he was in the grasp of +such terror that his legs shook and his eyes were like those of a +drunken man.</p> +<p>"Miserable aristocrat!" he cried, furiously, "do you want to cut +off our heads? Go out from here; let me see your heels, and don't +dare to come back; don't expect me to supply you with the means of +conspiracy!"</p> +<p>So saying, the pastry-cook endeavored to get back the little box +which the old lady had already slipped into one of her pockets. +Hardly had the bold hands of the shopkeeper touched her clothing, +than, preferring to encounter danger with no protection but that of +God rather than lose the thing she had come to buy, she recovered +the agility of youth, and sprang to the door, through which she +disappeared abruptly, leaving the husband and wife amazed and +trembling.</p> +<p>As soon as the poor lady found herself alone in the street she +began to walk rapidly; but her strength soon gave way, for she once +more heard the snow creaking under the footsteps of the spy as he +trod heavily upon it. She was obliged to stop short: the man +stopped also. She dared not speak to him, nor even look at him; +either because of her terror, or from some lack of natural +intelligence. Presently she continued her walk slowly; the man +measured his step by hers, and kept at the same distance behind +her; he seemed to move like her shadow. Nine o'clock struck as the +silent couple repassed the church of Saint-Laurent. It is the +nature of all souls, even the weakest, to fall back into quietude +after moments of violent agitation; for manifold as our feelings +may be, our bodily powers are limited. Thus the old lady, receiving +no injury from her apparent persecutor, began to think that he +might be a secret friend watching to protect her. She gathered up +in her mind the circumstances attending other apparitions of the +mysterious stranger as if to find plausible grounds for this +consoling opinion, and took pleasure in crediting him with good +rather than sinister intentions. Forgetting the terror he had +inspired in the pastry-cook, she walked on with a firmer step +towards the upper part of the Faubourg Saint-Martin.</p> +<p>At the end of half an hour she reached a house standing close to +the junction of the chief street of the faubourg with the street +leading out to the Barrière de Pantin. The place is to this +day one of the loneliest in Paris. The north wind blowing from +Belleville and the Buttes Chaumont whistled among the houses, or +rather cottages, scattered through the sparsely inhabited little +valley, where the inclosures are fenced with walls built of mud and +refuse bones. This dismal region seems the natural home of poverty +and despair. The man who was intent on following the poor creature +who had had the courage to thread these dark and silent streets +seemed struck with the spectacle they offered. He stopped as if +reflecting, and stood in a hesitating attitude, dimly visible by a +street lantern whose flickering light scarcely pierced the fog. +Fear gave eyes to the old gentlewoman, who now fancied that she saw +something sinister in the features of this unknown man. All her +terrors revived, and profiting by the curious hesitation that had +seized him, she glided like a shadow to the doorway of the solitary +dwelling, touched a spring, and disappeared with phantasmagoric +rapidity.</p> +<p>The man, standing motionless, gazed at the house, which was, as +it were, a type of the wretched buildings of the neighborhood. The +tottering hovel, built of porous stone in rough blocks, was coated +with yellow plaster much cracked, and looked ready to fall before a +gust of wind. The roof, of brown tiles covered with moss, had sunk +in several places, and gave the impression that the weight of snow +might break it down at any moment. Each story had three windows +whose frames, rotted by dampness and shrunken by the heat of the +sun, told that the outer cold penetrated to the chambers. The +lonely house seemed like an ancient tower that time had forgotten +to destroy. A faint light gleamed from the garret windows, which +were irregularly cut in the roof; but the rest of the house was in +complete obscurity. The old woman went up the rough and clumsy +stairs with difficulty, holding fast to a rope which took the place +of baluster. She knocked furtively at the door of a lodging under +the roof, and sat hastily down on a chair which an old man offered +her.</p> +<p>"Hide! hide yourself!" she cried. "Though we go out so seldom, +our errands are known, our steps are watched--"</p> +<p>"What has happened?" asked another old woman sitting near the +fire.</p> +<p>"The man who has hung about the house since yesterday followed +me to-night."</p> +<p>At these words the occupants of the hovel looked at each other +with terror in their faces. The old man was the least moved of the +three, possibly because he was the one in greatest danger. Under +the pressure of misfortune or the yoke of persecution a man of +courage begins, as it were, by preparing for the sacrifice of +himself: he looks upon his days as so many victories won from fate. +The eyes of the two women, fixed upon the old man, showed plainly +that he alone was the object of their extreme anxiety.</p> +<p>"Why distrust God, my sisters?" he said, in a hollow but +impressive voice. "We chanted praises to his name amid the cries of +victims and assassins at the convent. If it pleased him to save me +from that butchery, it was doubtless for some destiny which I shall +accept without a murmur. God protects his own, and disposes of them +according to his will. It is of you, not of me, that we should +think."</p> +<p>"No," said one of the women: "what is our life in comparison +with that of a priest?"</p> +<p>"Ever since the day when I found myself outside of the Abbaye +des Chelles," said the nun beside the fire, "I have given myself up +for dead."</p> +<p>"Here," said the one who had just come in, holding out the +little box to the priest, "here are the sacramental +wafers--Listen!" she cried, interrupting herself. "I hear some one +on the stairs."</p> +<p>At these words all three listened intently. The noise +ceased.</p> +<p>"Do not be frightened," said the priest, "even if some one asks +to enter. A person on whose fidelity we can safely rely has taken +measures to cross the frontier, and he will soon call here for +letters which I have written to the Duc de Langeais and the Marquis +de Beauséant, advising them as to the measures they must +take to get you out of this dreadful country, and save you from the +misery or the death you would otherwise undergo here."</p> +<p>"Shall you not follow us?" said the two nuns softly, but in a +tone of despair.</p> +<p>"My place is near the victims," said the priest, simply.</p> +<p>The nuns were silent, looking at him with devout admiration.</p> +<p>"Sister Martha," he said, addressing the nun who had fetched the +wafers, "this messenger must answer '<i>Fiat voluntas</i>' to the +word '<i>Hosanna</i>.'"</p> +<p>"There is some one on the stairway," exclaimed the other nun, +hastily opening a hiding-place burrowed at the edge of the +roof.</p> +<p>This time it was easy to hear the steps of a man sounding +through the deep silence on the rough stairs, which were caked with +patches of hardened mud. The priest slid with difficulty into a +narrow hiding-place, and the nuns hastily threw articles of apparel +over him.</p> +<p>"You can shut me in, Sister Agatha," he said, in a smothered +voice.</p> +<p>He was scarcely hidden when three knocks upon the door made the +sisters tremble and consult each other with their eyes, for they +dared not speak. Forty years' separation from the world had made +them like plants of a hot-house which wilt when brought into the +outer air. Accustomed to the life of a convent, they could not +conceive of any other; and when one morning their bars and gratings +were flung down, they had shuddered at finding themselves free. It +is easy to imagine the species of imbecility which the events of +the Revolution, enacted before their eyes, had produced in these +innocent souls. Quite incapable of harmonizing their conventual +ideas with the exigencies of ordinary life, not even comprehending +their own situation, they were like children who had always been +cared for, and who now, torn from their maternal providence, had +taken to prayers as other children take to tears. So it happened +that in presence of immediate danger they were dumb and passive, +and could think of no other defence than Christian resignation.</p> +<p>The man who sought to enter interpreted their silence as he +pleased; he suddenly opened the door and showed himself. The two +nuns trembled when they recognized the individual who for some days +had watched the house and seemed to make inquiries about its +inmates. They stood quite still and looked at him with uneasy +curiosity, like the children of savages examining a being of +another sphere. The stranger was very tall and stout, but nothing +in his manner or appearance denoted that he was a bad man. He +copied the immobility of the sisters and stood motionless, letting +his eye rove slowly round the room.</p> +<p>Two bundles of straw placed on two planks served as beds for the +nuns. A table was in the middle of the room; upon it a copper +candlestick, a few plates, three knives, and a round loaf of bread. +The fire on the hearth was very low, and a few sticks of wood piled +in a corner of the room testified to the poverty of the occupants. +The walls, once covered with a coat of paint now much defaced, +showed the wretched condition of the roof through which the rain +had trickled, making a network of brown stains. A sacred relic, +saved no doubt from the pillage of the Abbaye des Chelles, adorned +the mantel-shelf of the chimney. Three chairs, two coffers, and a +broken chest of drawers completed the furniture of the room. A +doorway cut near the fireplace showed there was probably an inner +chamber.</p> +<p>The inventory of this poor cell was soon made by the individual +who had presented himself under such alarming auspices. An +expression of pity crossed his features, and as he threw a kind +glance upon the frightened women he seemed as much embarrassed as +they. The strange silence in which they all three stood and faced +each other lasted but a moment; for the stranger seemed to guess +the moral weakness and inexperience of the poor helpless creatures, +and he said, in a voice which he strove to render gentle, "I have +not come as an enemy, <i>citoyennes</i>."</p> +<p>Then he paused, but resumed:--"My sisters, if harm should ever +happen to you, be sure that I shall not have contributed to it. I +have come to ask a favor of you."</p> +<p>They still kept silence.</p> +<p>"If I ask too much--if I annoy you--I will go away; but believe +me, I am heartily devoted to you, and if there is any service that +I could render you, you may employ me without fear. I, and I alone, +perhaps, am above law--since there is no longer a king."</p> +<p>The ring of truth in these words induced Sister Agatha, a nun +belonging to the ducal house of Langeais, and whose manners +indicated that she had once lived amid the festivities of life and +breathed the air of courts, to point to a chair as if she asked +their guest to be seated. The unknown gave vent to an expression of +joy, mingled with melancholy, as he understood this gesture. He +waited respectfully till the sisters were seated, and then obeyed +it.</p> +<p>"You have given shelter," he said, "to a venerable priest not +sworn in by the Republic, who escaped miraculously from the +massacre at the Convent of the Carmelites."</p> +<p>"<i>Hosanna</i>," said Sister Agatha, suddenly interrupting the +stranger, and looking at him with anxious curiosity.</p> +<p>"That is not his name, I think," he answered.</p> +<p>"But, Monsieur, we have no priest here," cried Sister Martha, +hastily, "and--"</p> +<p>"Then you should take better precautions," said the unknown +gently, stretching his arm to the table and picking up a breviary. +"I do not think you understand Latin, and--"</p> +<p>He stopped short, for the extreme distress painted on the faces +of the poor nuns made him fear he had gone too far; they trembled +violently, and their eyes filled with tears.</p> +<p>"Do not fear," he said; "I know the name of your guest, and +yours also. During the last three days I have learned your poverty, +and your great devotion to the venerable Abbé of--"</p> +<p>"Hush!" exclaimed Sister Agatha, ingenuously putting a finger on +her lip.</p> +<p>"You see, my sisters, that if I had the horrible design of +betraying you, I might have accomplished it again and again."</p> +<p>As he uttered these words the priest emerged from his prison and +appeared in the middle of the room.</p> +<p>"I cannot believe, Monsieur," he said courteously, "that you are +one of our persecutors. I trust you. What is it you desire of +me?"</p> +<p>The saintly confidence of the old man, and the nobility of mind +imprinted on his countenance, might have disarmed even an assassin. +He who thus mysteriously agitated this home of penury and +resignation stood contemplating the group before him; then he +addressed the priest in a trustful tone, with these words:--</p> +<p>"My father, I came to ask you to celebrate a mass for the repose +of the soul--of--of a sacred being whose body can never lie in holy +ground."</p> +<p>The priest involuntarily shuddered. The nuns, not as yet +understanding who it was of whom the unknown man had spoken, stood +with their necks stretched and their faces turned towards the +speakers, in an attitude of eager curiosity. The ecclesiastic +looked intently at the stranger; unequivocal anxiety was marked on +every feature, and his eyes offered an earnest and even ardent +prayer.</p> +<p>"Yes," said the priest at length. "Return here at midnight, and +I shall be ready to celebrate the only funeral service that we are +able to offer in expiation of the crime of which you speak."</p> +<p>The unknown shivered; a joy both sweet and solemn seemed to rise +in his soul above some secret grief. Respectfully saluting the +priest and the two saintly women, he disappeared with a mute +gratitude which these generous souls knew well how to +interpret.</p> +<p>Two hours later the stranger returned, knocked cautiously at the +door of the garret, and was admitted by Mademoiselle de Langeais, +who led him to the inner chamber of the humble refuge, where all +was in readiness for the ceremony. Between two flues of the chimney +the nuns had placed the old chest of drawers, whose broken edges +were concealed by a magnificent altar-cloth of green moiré. +A large ebony and ivory crucifix hanging on the discolored wall +stood out in strong relief from the surrounding bareness, and +necessarily caught the eye. Four slender little tapers, which the +sisters had contrived to fasten to the altar with sealing-wax, +threw a pale glimmer dimly reflected by the yellow wall. These +feeble rays scarcely lit up the rest of the chamber, but as their +light fell upon the sacred objects it seemed a halo falling from +heaven upon the bare and undecorated altar.</p> +<p>The floor was damp. The attic roof, which sloped sharply on both +sides of the room, was full of chinks through which the wind +penetrated. Nothing could be less stately, yet nothing was ever +more solemn than this lugubrious ceremony. Silence so deep that +some far-distant cry could have pierced it, lent a sombre majesty +to the nocturnal scene. The grandeur of the occasion contrasted +vividly with the poverty of its circumstances, and roused a feeling +of religious terror. On either side of the altar the old nuns, +kneeling on the tiled floor and taking no thought of its mortal +dampness, were praying in concert with the priest, who, robed in +his pontifical vestments, placed upon the altar a golden chalice +incrusted with precious stones,--a sacred vessel rescued, no doubt, +from the pillage of the Abbaye des Chelles. Close to this vase, +which was a gift of royal munificence, the bread and wine of the +consecrated sacrifice were contained in two glass tumblers scarcely +worthy of the meanest tavern. In default of a missal the priest had +placed his breviary on a corner of the altar. A common earthenware +platter was provided for the washing of those innocent hands, pure +and unspotted with blood. All was majestic and yet paltry; poor but +noble; profane and holy in one.</p> +<p>The unknown man knelt piously between the sisters. Suddenly, as +he caught sight of the crape upon the chalice and the +crucifix,--for in default of other means of proclaiming the object +of this funeral rite the priest had put God himself into +mourning,--the mysterious visitant was seized by some all-powerful +recollection, and drops of sweat gathered on his brow. The four +silent actors in this scene looked at each other with mysterious +sympathy; their souls, acting one upon another, communicated to +each the feelings of all, blending them into the one emotion of +religious pity. It seemed as though their thought had evoked from +the dead the sacred martyr whose body was devoured by quicklime, +but whose shade rose up before them in royal majesty. They were +celebrating a funeral Mass without the remains of the deceased. +Beneath these rafters and disjointed laths four Christian souls +were interceding with God for a king of France, and making his +burial without a coffin. It was the purest of all devotions; an act +of wonderful loyalty accomplished without one thought of self. +Doubtless in the eyes of God it was the cup of cold water that +weighed in the balance against many virtues. The whole of monarchy +was there in the prayers of the priest and the two poor women; but +also it may have been that the Revolution was present likewise, in +the person of the strange being whose face betrayed the remorse +that led him to make this solemn offering of a vast repentance.</p> +<p>Instead of pronouncing the Latin words, "Introibo ad altare Dei" +etc., the priest, with divine intuition, glanced at his three +assistants, who represented all Christian France, and said, in +words which effaced the penury and meanness of the hovel, "We enter +now into the sanctuary of God."</p> +<p>At these words, uttered with penetrating unction, a solemn awe +seized the participants. Beneath the dome of St. Peter's in Rome, +God had never seemed more majestic to man than he did now in this +refuge of poverty and to the eyes of these Christians,--so true is +it that between man and God all mediation is unneeded, for his +glory descends from himself alone. The fervent piety of the +nameless man was unfeigned, and the feeling that held these four +servants of God and the king was unanimous. The sacred words echoed +like celestial music amid the silence. There was a moment when the +unknown broke down and wept: it was at the Pater Noster, to which +the priest added a Latin clause which the stranger doubtless +comprehended and applied,--"Et remitte scelus regicidis sicut +Ludovicus eis remisit semetipse" (And forgive the regicides even as +Louis XVI. himself forgave them). The two nuns saw the tears +coursing down the manly cheeks of their visitant, and dropping fast +on the tiled floor.</p> +<p>The Office of the Dead was recited. The "Domine salvum fac +regem," sung in low tones, touched the hearts of these faithful +royalists as they thought of the infant king, now captive in the +hands of his enemies, for whom this prayer was offered. The unknown +shuddered; perhaps he feared an impending crime in which he would +be called to take an unwilling part.</p> +<p>When the service was over, the priest made a sign to the nuns, +who withdrew to the outer room. As soon as he was alone with the +unknown, the old man went up to him with gentle sadness of manner, +and said in the tone of a father,--</p> +<p>"My son, if you have steeped your hands in the blood of the +martyr king, confess yourself to me. There is no crime which, in +the eyes of God, is not washed out by a repentance as deep and +sincere as yours appears to be."</p> +<p>At the first words of the ecclesiastic an involuntary motion of +terror escaped the stranger; but he quickly recovered himself, and +looked at the astonished priest with calm assurance.</p> +<p>"My father," he said, in a voice that nevertheless trembled, "no +one is more innocent than I of the blood shed--"</p> +<p>"I believe it!" said the priest.</p> +<p>He paused a moment, during which he examined afresh his +penitent; then, persisting in the belief that he was one of those +timid members of the Assembly who sacrificed the inviolate and +sacred head to save their own, he resumed in a grave voice:--</p> +<p>"Reflect, my son, that something more than taking no part in +that great crime is needed to absolve from guilt. Those who kept +their sword in the scabbard when they might have defended their +king have a heavy account to render to the King of kings. Oh, yes," +added the venerable man, moving his head from right to left with an +expressive motion; "yes, heavy, indeed! for, standing idle, they +made themselves the accomplices of a horrible transgression."</p> +<p>"Do you believe," asked the stranger, in a surprised tone, "that +even an indirect participation will be punished? The soldier +ordered to form the line--do you think he was guilty?"</p> +<p>The priest hesitated. Glad of the dilemma that placed this +puritan of royalty between the dogma of passive obedience, which +according to the partisans of monarchy should dominate the military +system, and the other dogma, equally imperative, which consecrates +the person of the king, the stranger hastened to accept the +hesitation of the priest as a solution of the doubts that seemed to +trouble him. Then, so as not to allow the old Jansenist time for +further reflection, he said quickly:--</p> +<p>"I should blush to offer you any fee whatever in acknowledgment +of the funeral service you have just celebrated for the repose of +the king's soul and for the discharge of my conscience. We can only +pay for inestimable things by offerings which are likewise beyond +all price. Deign to accept, Monsieur, the gift which I now make to +you of a holy relic; the day may come when you will know its +value."</p> +<p>As he said these words he gave the ecclesiastic a little box of +light weight. The priest took it as it were involuntarily; for the +solemn tone in which the words were uttered, and the awe with which +the stranger held the box, struck him with fresh amazement. They +re-entered the outer room, where the two nuns were waiting for +them.</p> +<p>"You are living," said the unknown, "in a house whose owner, +Mucius Scaevola, the plasterer who lives on the first floor, is +noted in the Section for his patriotism. He is, however, secretly +attached to the Bourbons. He was formerly huntsman to Monseigneur +the Prince de Conti, to whom he owes everything. As long as you +stay in this house you are in greater safety than you can be in any +other part of France. Remain here. Pious souls will watch over you +and supply your wants; and you can await without danger the coming +of better days. A year hence, on the 21st of January" (as he +uttered these last words he could not repress an involuntary +shudder), "I shall return to celebrate once more the Mass of +expiation--"</p> +<p>He could not end the sentence. Bowing to the silent occupants of +the garret, he cast a last look upon the signs of their poverty and +disappeared.</p> +<p>To the two simple-minded women this event had all the interest +of a romance. As soon as the venerable abbé told them of the +mysterious gift so solemnly offered by the stranger, they placed +the box upon the table, and the three anxious faces, faintly +lighted by a tallow-candle, betrayed an indescribable curiosity. +Mademoiselle de Langeais opened the box and took from it a +handkerchief of extreme fineness, stained with sweat. As she +unfolded it they saw dark stains.</p> +<p>"That is blood!" exclaimed the priest.</p> +<p>"It is marked with the royal crown!" cried the other nun.</p> +<p>The sisters let fall the precious relic with gestures of horror. +To these ingenuous souls the mystery that wrapped their unknown +visitor became inexplicable, and the priest from that day forth +forbade himself to search for its solution.</p> +<p>The three prisoners soon perceived that, in spite of the Terror, +a powerful arm was stretched over them. First, they received +firewood and provisions; next, the sisters guessed that a woman was +associated with their protector, for linen and clothing came to +them mysteriously, and enabled them to go out without danger of +observation from the aristocratic fashion of the only garments they +had been able to secure; finally, Mucius Scaevola brought them +certificates of citizenship. Advice as to the necessary means of +insuring the safety of the venerable priest often came to them from +unexpected quarters, and proved so singularly opportune that it was +quite evident it could only have been given by some one in +possession of state secrets. In spite of the famine which then +afflicted Paris, they found daily at the door of their hovel +rations of white bread, laid there by invisible hands. They thought +they recognized in Mucius Scaevola the agent of these mysterious +benefactions, which were always timely and intelligent; but the +noble occupants of the poor garret had no doubt whatever that the +unknown individual who had celebrated the midnight Mass on the 22d +of January, 1793, was their secret protector. They added to their +daily prayers a special prayer for him; night and day these pious +hearts made supplication for his happiness, his prosperity, his +redemption. They prayed that God would keep his feet from snares +and save him from his enemies, and grant him a long and peaceful +life.</p> +<p>Their gratitude, renewed as it were daily, was necessarily +mingled with curiosity that grew keener day by day. The +circumstances attending the appearance of the stranger were a +ceaseless topic of conversation and of endless conjecture, and soon +became a benefit of a special kind, from the occupation and +distraction of mind which was thus produced. They resolved that the +stranger should not be allowed to escape the expression of their +gratitude when he came to commemorate the next sad anniversary of +the death of Louis XVI.</p> +<p>That night, so impatiently awaited, came at length. At midnight +the heavy steps resounded up the wooden stairway. The room was +prepared for the service; the altar was dressed. This time the +sisters opened the door and hastened to light the entrance. +Mademoiselle de Langeais even went down a few stairs that she might +catch the first glimpse of their benefactor.</p> +<p>"Come!" she said, in a trembling and affectionate voice. "Come, +you are expected!"</p> +<p>The man raised his head, gave the nun a gloomy look, and made no +answer. She felt as though an icy garment had fallen upon her, and +she kept silence. At his aspect gratitude and curiosity died within +their hearts. He may have been less cold, less taciturn, less +terrible than he seemed to these poor souls, whose own emotions led +them to expect a flow of friendship from his. They saw that this +mysterious being was resolved to remain a stranger to them, and +they acquiesced with resignation. But the priest fancied he saw a +smile, quickly repressed, upon the stranger's lip as he saw the +preparations made to receive him. He heard the Mass and prayed, but +immediately disappeared, refusing in a few courteous words the +invitation given by Mademoiselle de Langeais to remain and partake +of the humble collation they had prepared for him.</p> +<p>After the 9th Thermidor the nuns and the Abbé de Marolles +were able to go about Paris without incurring any danger. The first +visit of the old priest was to a perfumery at the sign of the +"Queen of Flowers," kept by the citizen and <i>citoyenne</i> Ragon, +formerly perfumers to the Court, well known for their faithfulness +to the royal family, and employed by the Vendéens as a +channel of communication with the princes and royal committees in +Paris. The abbé, dressed as the times required, was leaving +the doorstep of the shop, situated between the church of Saint-Roch +and the Rue des Fondeurs, when a great crowd coming down the Rue +Saint-Honoré hindered him from advancing.</p> +<p>"What is it?" he asked of Madame Ragon.</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing!" she answered. "It is the cart and the executioner +going to the Place Louis XV. Ah, we saw enough of that last year! +but now, four days after the anniversary of the 21st of January, we +can look at the horrid procession without distress."</p> +<p>"Why so?" asked the abbé. "What you say is not +Christian."</p> +<p>"But this is the execution of the accomplices of Robespierre. +They have fought it off as long as they could, but now they are +going in their turn where they have sent so many innocent +people."</p> +<p>The crowd which filled the Rue Saint-Honoré passed on +like a wave. Above the sea of heads the Abbé de Marolles, +yielding to an impulse, saw, standing erect in the cart, the +stranger who three days before had assisted for the second time in +the Mass of commemoration.</p> +<p>"Who is that?" he asked; "the one standing--"</p> +<p>"That is the executioner," answered Monsieur Ragon, calling the +man by his monarchical name.</p> +<p>"Help! help!" cried Madame Ragon. "Monsieur l'Abbé is +fainting!"</p> +<p>She caught up a flask of vinegar and brought him quickly back to +consciousness.</p> +<p>"He must have given me," said the old priest, "the handkerchief +with which the king wiped his brow as he went to his martyrdom. +Poor man! that steel knife had a heart when all France had +none!"</p> +<p>The perfumers thought the words of the priest were an effect of +delirium.</p> +<p class="loc">Translation copyrighted by Roberts Brothers.</p> +<br> +<a name="BALZAC_3"></a> +<h3>A PASSION IN THE DESERT</h3> +<p>"The sight was fearful!" she exclaimed, as we left the menagerie +of Monsieur Martin.</p> +<p>She had been watching that daring speculator as he went through +his wonderful performance in the den of the hyena.</p> +<p>"How is it possible," she continued, "to tame those animals so +as to be certain that he can trust them?"</p> +<p>"You think it a problem," I answered, interrupting her, "and yet +it is a natural fact."</p> +<p>"Oh!" she cried, an incredulous smile flickering on her lip.</p> +<p>"Do you think that beasts are devoid of passions?" I asked. "Let +me assure you that we teach them all the vices and virtues of our +own state of civilization."</p> +<p>She looked at me in amazement.</p> +<p>"The first time I saw Monsieur Martin," I added, "I exclaimed, +as you do, with surprise. I happened to be sitting beside an old +soldier whose right leg was amputated, and whose appearance had +attracted my notice as I entered the building. His face, stamped +with the scars of battle, wore the undaunted look of a veteran of +the wars of Napoleon. Moreover, the old hero had a frank and joyous +manner which attracts me wherever I meet it. He was doubtless one +of those old campaigners whom nothing can surprise, who find +something to laugh at in the last contortions of a comrade, and +will bury a friend or rifle his body gayly; challenging bullets +with indifference; making short shrift for themselves or others; +and fraternizing, as a usual thing, with the devil. After looking +very attentively at the proprietor of the menagerie as he entered +the den, my companion curled his lip with that expression of +satirical contempt which well-informed men sometimes put on to mark +the difference between themselves and dupes. As I uttered my +exclamation of surprise at the coolness and courage of Monsieur +Martin, the old soldier smiled, shook his head, and said with a +knowing glance, 'An old story!'</p> +<p>"'How do you mean an old story?' I asked. 'If you could explain +the secret of this mysterious power, I should be greatly obliged to +you.'</p> +<p>"After a while, during which we became better acquainted, we +went to dine at the first cafe we could find after leaving the +menagerie. A bottle of champagne with our dessert brightened the +old man's recollections and made them singularly vivid. He related +to me a circumstance in his early history which proved that he had +ample cause to pronounce Monsieur Martin's performance 'an old +story.'"</p> +<p>When we reached her house, she was so persuasive and +captivating, and made me so many pretty promises, that I consented +to write down for her benefit the story told me by the old hero. On +the following day I sent her this episode of a historical epic, +which might be entitled, 'The French in Egypt.'</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>At the time of General Desaix's expedition to Upper Egypt a +Provençal soldier, who had fallen into the hands of the +Maugrabins, was marched by those tireless Arabs across the desert +which lies beyond the cataracts of the Nile. To put sufficient +distance between themselves and the French army, the Maugrabins +made a forced march and did not halt until after nightfall. They +then camped about a well shaded with palm-trees, near which they +had previously buried a stock of provisions. Not dreaming that the +thought of escape could enter their captive's mind, they merely +bound his wrists, and lay down to sleep themselves, after eating a +few dates and giving their horses a feed of barley. When the bold +Provençal saw his enemies too soundly asleep to watch him, +he used his teeth to pick up a scimitar, with which, steadying the +blade by means of his knees, he contrived to cut through the cord +which bound his hands, and thus recovered his liberty. He at once +seized a carbine and a poniard, took the precaution to lay in a +supply of dates, a small bag of barley, some powder and ball, +buckled on the scimitar, mounted one of the horses, and spurred him +in the direction where he supposed the French army to be. Impatient +to meet the outposts, he pressed the horse, which was already +wearied, so severely that the poor animal fell dead with his flanks +torn, leaving the Frenchman alone in the midst of the desert.</p> +<p>After marching for a long time through the sand with the dogged +courage of an escaping galley-slave, the soldier was forced to +halt, as darkness drew on: for his utter weariness compelled him to +rest, though the exquisite sky of an eastern night might well have +tempted him to continue the journey. Happily he had reached a +slight elevation, at the top of which a few palm-trees shot upward, +whose leafage, seen from a long distance against the sky, had +helped to sustain his hopes. His fatigue was so great that he threw +himself down on a block of granite, cut by Nature into the shape of +a camp-bed, and slept heavily, without taking the least precaution +to protect himself while asleep. He accepted the loss of his life +as inevitable, and his last waking thought was one of regret for +having left the Maugrabins, whose nomad life began to charm him now +that he was far away from them and from every other hope of +succor.</p> +<p>He was awakened by the sun, whose pitiless beams falling +vertically upon the granite rock produced an intolerable heat. The +Provençal had ignorantly flung himself down in a contrary +direction to the shadows thrown by the verdant and majestic fronds +of the palm-trees. He gazed at these solitary monarchs and +shuddered. They recalled to his mind the graceful shafts, crowned +with long weaving leaves, which distinguish the Saracenic columns +of the cathedral of Arles. The thought overcame him, and when, +after counting the trees, he threw his eyes upon the scene around +him, an agony of despair convulsed his soul. He saw a limitless +ocean. The sombre sands of the desert stretched out till lost to +sight in all directions; they glittered with dark lustre like a +steel blade shining in the sun. He could not tell if it were an +ocean or a chain of lakes that lay mirrored before him. A hot vapor +swept in waves above the surface of this heaving continent. The sky +had the Oriental glow of translucent purity, which disappoints +because it leaves nothing for the imagination to desire. The +heavens and the earth were both on fire. Silence added its awful +and desolate majesty. Infinitude, immensity pressed down upon the +soul on every side; not a cloud in the sky, not a breath in the +air, not a rift on the breast of the sand, which was ruffled only +with little ridges scarcely rising above its surface. Far as the +eye could reach the horizon fell away into space, marked by a +slender line, slim as the edge of a sabre,--like as in summer seas +a thread of light parts this earth from the heaven it meets.</p> +<p>The Provençal clasped the trunk of a palm-tree as if it +were the body of a friend. Sheltered from the sun by its straight +and slender shadow, he wept; and presently sitting down he remained +motionless, contemplating with awful dread the implacable Nature +stretched out before him. He cried aloud, as if to tempt the +solitude to answer him. His voice, lost in the hollows of the +hillock, sounded afar with a thin resonance that returned no echo; +the echo came from the soldier's heart. He was twenty-two years +old, and he loaded his carbine.</p> +<p>"Time enough!" he muttered, as he put the liberating weapon on +the sand beneath him.</p> +<p>Gazing by turns at the burnished blackness of the sand and the +blue expanse of the sky, the soldier dreamed of France. He smelt in +fancy the gutters of Paris; he remembered the towns through which +he had passed, the faces of his comrades, and the most trifling +incidents of his life. His southern imagination saw the pebbles of +his own Provence in the undulating play of the heated air, as it +seemed to roughen the far-reaching surface of the desert. Dreading +the dangers of this cruel mirage, he went down the little hill on +the side opposite to that by which he had gone up the night before. +His joy was great when he discovered a natural grotto, formed by +the immense blocks of granite which made a foundation for the +rising ground. The remnants of a mat showed that the place had once +been inhabited, and close to the entrance were a few palm-trees +loaded with fruit. The instinct which binds men to life woke in his +heart. He now hoped to live until some Maugrabin should pass that +way; possibly he might even hear the roar of cannon, for Bonaparte +was at that time overrunning Egypt. Encouraged by these thoughts, +the Frenchman shook down a cluster of the ripe fruit under the +weight of which the palms were bending; and as he tasted this +unhoped-for manna, he thanked the former inhabitant of the grotto +for the cultivation of the trees, which the rich and luscious flesh +of the fruit amply attested. Like a true Provençal, he +passed from the gloom of despair to a joy that was half insane. He +ran back to the top of the hill, and busied himself for the rest of +the day in cutting down one of the sterile trees which had been his +shelter the night before.</p> +<p>Some vague recollection made him think of the wild beasts of the +desert, and foreseeing that they would come to drink at a spring +which bubbled through the sand at the foot of the rock, he resolved +to protect his hermitage by felling a tree across the entrance. +Notwithstanding his eagerness, and the strength which the fear of +being attacked while asleep gave to his muscles, he was unable to +cut the palm-tree in pieces during the day; but he succeeded in +bringing it down. Towards evening the king of the desert fell; and +the noise of his fall, echoing far, was like a moan from the breast +of Solitude. The soldier shuddered, as though he had heard a voice +predicting evil. But, like an heir who does not long mourn a +parent, he stripped from the beautiful tree the arching green +fronds--its poetical adornment--and made a bed of them in his +refuge. Then, tired with his work and by the heat of the day, he +fell asleep beneath the red vault of the grotto.</p> +<p>In the middle of the night his sleep was broken by a strange +noise. He sat up; the deep silence that reigned everywhere enabled +him to hear the alternating rhythm of a respiration whose savage +vigor could not belong to a human being. A terrible fear, increased +by the darkness, by the silence, by the rush of his waking fancies, +numbed his heart. He felt the contraction of his hair, which rose +on end as his eyes, dilating to their full strength, beheld through +the darkness two faint amber lights. At first he thought them an +optical delusion; but by degrees the clearness of the night enabled +him to distinguish objects in the grotto, and he saw, within two +feet of him, an enormous animal lying at rest.</p> +<p>Was it a lion? Was it a tiger? Was it a crocodile? The +Provençal had not enough education to know in what +sub-species he ought to class the intruder; but his terror was all +the greater because his ignorance made it vague. He endured the +cruel trial of listening, of striving to catch the peculiarties of +this breathing without losing one of its inflections, and without +daring to make the slightest movement. A strong odor, like that +exhaled by foxes, only far more pungent and penetrating, filled the +grotto. When the soldier had tasted it, so to speak, by the nose, +his fear became terror; he could no longer doubt the nature of the +terrible companion whose royal lair he had taken for a bivouac. +Before long, the reflection of the moon, as it sank to the horizon, +lighted up the den and gleamed upon the shining, spotted skin of a +panther.</p> +<p>The lion of Egypt lay asleep, curled up like a dog, the +peaceable possessor of a kennel at the gate of a mansion; its eyes, +which had opened for a moment, were now closed; its head was turned +towards the Frenchman. A hundred conflicting thoughts rushed +through the mind of the panther's prisoner. Should he kill it with +a shot from his musket? But ere the thought was formed, he saw +there was no room to take aim; the muzzle would have gone beyond +the animal. Suppose he were to wake it? The fear kept him +motionless. As he heard the beating of his heart through the dead +silence, he cursed the strong pulsations of his vigorous blood, +lest they should disturb the sleep which gave him time to think and +plan for safety. Twice he put his hand on his scimitar, with the +idea of striking off the head of his enemy; but the difficulty of +cutting through the close-haired skin made him renounce the bold +attempt. Suppose he missed his aim? It would, he knew, be certain +death. He preferred the chances of a struggle, and resolved to +await the dawn. It was not long in coming. As daylight broke, the +Frenchman was able to examine the animal. Its muzzle was stained +with blood. "It has eaten a good meal," thought he, not caring +whether the feast were human flesh or not; "it will not be hungry +when it wakes."</p> +<p>It was a female. The fur on the belly and on the thighs was of +sparkling whiteness. Several little spots like velvet made pretty +bracelets round her paws. The muscular tail was also white, but it +terminated with black rings. The fur of the back, yellow as dead +gold and very soft and glossy, bore the characteristic spots, +shaded like a full-blown rose, which distinguish the panther from +all other species of <i>felis</i>. This terrible hostess lay +tranquilly snoring, in an attitude as easy and graceful as that of +a cat on the cushions of an ottoman. Her bloody paws, sinewy and +well-armed, were stretched beyond her head, which lay upon them; +and from her muzzle projected a few straight hairs called whiskers, +which shimmered in the early light like silver wires.</p> +<p>If he had seen her lying thus imprisoned in a cage, the +Provençal would have admired the creature's grace, and the +strong contrasts of vivid color which gave to her robe an imperial +splendor; but as it was, his sight was jaundiced by sinister +forebodings. The presence of the panther, though she was still +asleep, had the same effect upon his mind as the magnetic eyes of a +snake produce, we are told, upon the nightingale. The soldier's +courage oozed away in presence of this silent peril, though he was +a man who gathered nerve before the mouths of cannon belching +grape-shot. And yet, ere long, a bold thought entered his mind, and +checked the cold sweat which was rolling from his brow. Roused to +action, as some men are when, driven face to face with death, they +defy it and offer themselves to their doom, he saw a tragedy before +him, and he resolved to play his part with honor to the last.</p> +<p>"Yesterday," he said, "the Arabs might have killed me."</p> +<p>Regarding himself as dead, he waited bravely, but with anxious +curiosity, for the waking of his enemy. When the sun rose, the +panther suddenly opened her eyes; then she stretched her paws +violently, as if to unlimber them from the cramp of their position. +Presently she yawned and showed the frightful armament of her +teeth, and her cloven tongue, rough as a grater.</p> +<p>"She is like a dainty woman," thought the Frenchman, watching +her as she rolled and turned on her side with an easy and +coquettish movement. She licked the blood from her paws, and rubbed +her head with a reiterated movement full of grace.</p> +<p>"Well done! dress yourself prettily, my little woman," said the +Frenchman, who recovered his gayety as soon as he had recovered his +courage. "We are going to bid each other good-morning;" and he felt +for the short poniard which he had taken from the Maugrabins.</p> +<p>At this instant the panther turned her head towards the +Frenchman and looked at him fixedly, without moving. The rigidity +of her metallic eyes and their insupportable clearness made the +Provençal shudder. The beast moved towards him; he looked at +her caressingly, with a soothing glance by which he hoped to +magnetize her. He let her come quite close to him before he +stirred; then with a touch as gentle and loving as he might have +used to a pretty woman, he slid his hand along her spine from the +head to the flanks, scratching with his nails the flexible +vertebrae which divide the yellow back of a panther. The creature +drew up her tail voluptuously, her eyes softened, and when for the +third time the Frenchman bestowed this self-interested caress, she +gave vent to a purr like that with which a cat expresses pleasure: +but it issued from a throat so deep and powerful that the sound +echoed through the grotto like the last chords of an organ rolling +along the roof of a church. The Provençal, perceiving the +value of his caresses, redoubled them until they had completely +soothed and lulled the imperious courtesan.</p> +<p>When he felt that he had subdued the ferocity of his capricious +companion, whose hunger had so fortunately been appeased the night +before, he rose to leave the grotto. The panther let him go; but as +soon as he reached the top of the little hill she bounded after him +with the lightness of a bird hopping from branch to branch, and +rubbed against his legs, arching her back with the gesture of a +domestic cat. Then looking at her guest with an eye that was +growing less inflexible, she uttered the savage cry which +naturalists liken to the noise of a saw.</p> +<p>"My lady is exacting," cried the Frenchman, smiling. He began to +play with her ears and stroke her belly, and at last he scratched +her head firmly with his nails. Encouraged by success, he tickled +her skull with the point of his dagger, looking for the right spot +where to stab her; but the hardness of the bone made him pause, +dreading failure.</p> +<p>The sultana of the desert acknowledged the talents of her slave +by lifting her head and swaying her neck to his caresses, betraying +satisfaction by the tranquillity of her relaxed attitude. The +Frenchman suddenly perceived that he could assassinate the fierce +princess at a blow, if he struck her in the throat; and he had +raised the weapon, when the panther, surfeited perhaps with his +caresses, threw herself gracefully at his feet, glancing up at him +with a look in which, despite her natural ferocity, a flicker of +kindness could be seen. The poor Provençal, frustrated for +the moment, ate his dates as he leaned against a palm-tree, casting +from time to time an interrogating eye across the desert in the +hope of discerning rescue from afar, and then lowering it upon his +terrible companion, to watch the chances of her uncertain clemency. +Each time that he threw away a date-stone the panther eyed the spot +where it fell with an expression of keen distrust; and she examined +the Frenchman with what might be called commercial prudence. The +examination, however, seemed favorable, for when the man had +finished his meagre meal she licked his shoes and wiped off the +dust, which was caked into the folds of the leather, with her rough +and powerful tongue.</p> +<p>"How will it be when she is hungry?" thought the +Provençal. In spite of the shudder which this reflection +cost him, his attention was attracted by the symmetrical +proportions of the animal, and he began to measure them with his +eye. She was three feet in height to the shoulder, and four feet +long, not including the tail. That powerful weapon, which was round +as a club, measured three feet. The head, as large as that of a +lioness, was remarkable for an expression of crafty intelligence; +the cold cruelty of a tiger was its ruling trait, and yet it bore a +vague resemblance to the face of an artful woman. As the soldier +watched her, the countenance of this solitary queen shone with +savage gayety like that of Nero in his cups: she had slaked her +thirst for blood, and now wished for play. The Frenchman tried to +come and go, and accustomed her to his movements. The panther left +him free, as if contented to follow him with her eyes, seeming, +however, less like a faithful dog watching his master's movements +with affection, than a huge Angora cat uneasy and suspicious of +them. A few steps brought him to the spring, where he saw the +carcass of his horse, which the panther had evidently carried +there. Only two-thirds was eaten. The sight reassured the +Frenchman; for it explained the absence of his terrible companion +and the forbearance which she had shown to him while asleep.</p> +<p>This first good luck encouraged the reckless soldier as he +thought of the future. The wild idea of making a home with the +panther until some chance of escape occurred entered his mind, and +he resolved to try every means of taming her and of turning her +good-will to account. With these thoughts he returned to her side, +and noticed joyfully that she moved her tail with an almost +imperceptible motion. He sat down beside her fearlessly, and they +began to play with each other. He held her paws and her muzzle, +twisted her ears, threw her over on her back, and stroked her soft +warm flanks. She allowed him to do so; and when he began to smooth +the fur of her paws, she carefully drew in her murderous claws, +which were sharp and curved like a Damascus blade. The Frenchman +kept one hand on his dagger, again watching his opportunity to +plunge it into the belly of the too-confiding beast; but the fear +that she might strangle him in her last convulsions once more +stayed his hand. Moreover, he felt in his heart a foreboding of a +remorse which warned him not to destroy a hitherto inoffensive +creature. He even fancied that he had found a friend in the +limitless desert. His mind turned back, involuntarily, to his first +mistress, whom he had named in derision "Mignonne," because her +jealousy was so furious that throughout the whole period of their +intercourse he lived in dread of the knife with which she +threatened him. This recollection of his youth suggested the idea +of teaching the young panther, whose soft agility and grace he now +admired with less terror, to answer to the caressing name. Towards +evening he had grown so familiar with his perilous position that he +was half in love with its dangers, and his companion was so far +tamed that she had caught the habit of turning to him when he +called, in falsetto tones, "Mignonne!"</p> +<p>As the sun went down Mignonne uttered at intervals a prolonged, +deep, melancholy cry.</p> +<p>"She is well brought up," thought the gay soldier. "She says her +prayers." But the jest only came into his mind as he watched the +peaceful attitude of his comrade.</p> +<p>"Come, my pretty blonde, I will let you go to bed first," he +said, relying on the activity of his legs to get away as soon as +she fell asleep, and trusting to find some other resting-place for +the night. He waited anxiously for the right moment, and when it +came he started vigorously in the direction of the Nile. But he had +scarcely marched for half an hour through the sand before he heard +the panther bounding after him, giving at intervals the saw-like +cry which was more terrible to hear than the thud of her +bounds.</p> +<p>"Well, well!" he cried, "she must have fallen in love with me! +Perhaps she has never met any one else. It is flattering to be her +first love."</p> +<p>So thinking, he fell into one of the treacherous quicksands +which deceive the inexperienced traveler in the desert, and from +which there is seldom any escape. He felt he was sinking, and he +uttered a cry of despair. The panther seized him by the collar with +her teeth, and sprang vigorously backward, drawing him, like magic, +from the sucking sand.</p> +<p>"Ah, Mignonne!" cried the soldier, kissing her with enthusiasm, +"we belong to each other now,--for life, for death! But play me no +tricks," he added, as he turned back the way he came.</p> +<p>From that moment the desert was, as it were, peopled for him. It +held a being to whom he could talk, and whose ferocity was now +lulled into gentleness, although he could scarcely explain to +himself the reasons for this extraordinary friendship. His anxiety +to keep awake and on his guard succumbed to excessive weariness +both of body and mind, and throwing himself down on the floor of +the grotto he slept soundly. At his waking Mignonne was gone. He +mounted the little hill to scan the horizon, and perceived her in +the far distance returning with the long bounds peculiar to these +animals, who are prevented from running by the extreme flexibility +of their spinal column.</p> +<p>Mignonne came home with bloody jaws, and received the tribute of +caresses which her slave hastened to pay, all the while manifesting +her pleasure by reiterated purring.</p> +<p>Her eyes, now soft and gentle, rested kindly on the +Provençal, who spoke to her lovingly as he would to a +domestic animal.</p> +<p>"Ah! Mademoiselle,--for you are an honest girl, are you not? You +like to be petted, don't you? Are you not ashamed of yourself? You +have been eating a Maugrabin. Well, well! they are animals like the +rest of you. But you are not to craunch up a Frenchman; remember +that! If you do, I will not love you."</p> +<p>She played like a young dog with her master, and let him roll +her over and pat and stroke her, and sometimes she would coax him +to play by laying a paw upon his knee with a pretty soliciting +gesture.</p> +<p>Several days passed rapidly. This strange companionship revealed +to the Provençal the sublime beauties of the desert. The +alternations of hope and fear, the sufficiency of food, the +presence of a creature who occupied his thoughts,--all this kept +his mind alert, yet free: it was a life full of strange contrasts. +Solitude revealed to him her secrets, and wrapped him with her +charm. In the rising and the setting of the sun he saw splendors +unknown to the world of men. He quivered as he listened to the soft +whirring of the wings of a bird,--rare visitant!--or watched the +blending of the fleeting clouds,--those changeful and many-tinted +voyagers. In the waking hours of the night he studied the play of +the moon upon the sandy ocean, where the strong simoom had rippled +the surface into waves and ever-varying undulations. He lived in +the Eastern day; he worshiped its marvelous glory. He rejoiced in +the grandeur of the storms when they rolled across the vast plain, +and tossed the sand upward till it looked like a dry red fog or a +solid death-dealing vapor; and as the night came on he welcomed it +with ecstasy, grateful for the blessed coolness of the light of the +stars. His ears listened to the music of the skies. Solitude taught +him the treasures of meditation. He spent hours in recalling +trifles, and in comparing his past life with the weird present.</p> +<p>He grew fondly attached to his panther; for he was a man who +needed an affection. Whether it were that his own will, +magnetically strong, had modified the nature of his savage +princess, or that the wars then raging in the desert had provided +her with an ample supply of food, it is certain that she showed no +sign of attacking him, and became so tame that he soon felt no fear +of her. He spent much of his time in sleeping; though with his mind +awake, like a spider in its web, lest he should miss some +deliverance that might chance to cross the sandy sphere marked out +by the horizon. He had made his shirt into a banner and tied it to +the top of a palm-tree which he had stripped of its leafage. Taking +counsel of necessity, he kept the flag extended by fastening the +corners with twigs and wedges; for the fitful wind might have +failed to wave it at the moment when the longed-for succor came in +sight.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, there were long hours of gloom when hope forsook +him; and then he played with his panther. He learned to know the +different inflections of her voice and the meanings of her +expressive glance; he studied the variegation of the spots which +shaded the dead gold of her robe. Mignonne no longer growled when +he caught the tuft of her dangerous tail and counted the black and +white rings which glittered in the sunlight like a cluster of +precious stones. He delighted in the soft lines of her lithe body, +the whiteness of her belly, the grace of her charming head: but +above all he loved to watch her as she gamboled at play. The +agility and youthfulness of her movements were a constantly fresh +surprise to him. He admired the suppleness of the flexible body as +she bounded, crept, and glided, or clung to the trunk of +palm-trees, or rolled over and over, crouching sometimes to the +ground, and gathering herself together as she made ready for her +vigorous spring. Yet, however vigorous the bound, however slippery +the granite block on which she landed, she would stop short, +motionless, at the one word "Mignonne."</p> +<p>One day, under a dazzling sun, a large bird hovered in the sky. +The Provençal left his panther to watch the new guest. After +a moment's pause the neglected sultana uttered a low growl.</p> +<p>"The devil take me! I believe she is jealous!" exclaimed the +soldier, observing the rigid look which once more appeared in her +metallic eyes. "The soul of Sophronie has got into her body!"</p> +<p>The eagle disappeared in ether, and the Frenchman, recalled by +the panther's displeasure, admired afresh her rounded flanks and +the perfect grace of her attitude. She was as pretty as a woman. +The blonde brightness of her robe shaded, with delicate gradations, +to the dead-white tones of her furry thighs; the vivid sunshine +brought out the brilliancy of this living gold and its variegated +brown spots with indescribable lustre. The panther and the +Provençal gazed at each other with human comprehension. She +trembled with delight--the coquettish creature!--as she felt the +nails of her friend scratching the strong bones of her skull. Her +eyes glittered like flashes of lightning, and then she closed them +tightly.</p> +<p>"She has a soul!" cried the soldier, watching the tranquil +repose of this sovereign of the desert, golden as the sands, white +as their pulsing light, solitary and burning as they.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>"Well," she said, "I have read your defense of the beasts. But +tell me what was the end of this friendship between two beings so +formed to understand each other?"</p> +<p>"Ah, exactly," I replied. "It ended as all great passions +end,--by a misunderstanding. Both sides imagine treachery, pride +prevents an explanation, and the rupture comes about through +obstinacy."</p> +<p>"Yes," she said, "and sometimes a word, a look, an exclamation +suffices. But tell me the end of the story."</p> +<p>"That is difficult," I answered. "But I will give it to you in +the words of the old veteran, as he finished the bottle of +champagne and exclaimed:--</p> +<p>"'I don't know how I could have hurt her, but she suddenly +turned upon me as if in fury, and seized my thigh with her sharp +teeth; and yet (as I afterwards remembered) not cruelly. I thought +she meant to devour me, and I plunged my dagger into her throat. +She rolled over with a cry that froze my soul; she looked at me in +her death struggle, but without anger. I would have given all the +world--my cross, which I had not then gained, all, everything--to +have brought her back to life. It was as if I had murdered a +friend, a human being. When the soldiers who saw my flag came to my +rescue they found me weeping. Monsieur,' he resumed, after a +moment's silence, 'I went through the wars in Germany, Spain, +Russia, France; I have marched my carcass well-nigh over all the +world; but I have seen nothing comparable to the desert. Ah, it is +grand! glorious!'</p> +<p>"'What were your feelings there?' I asked.</p> +<p>"'They cannot be told, young man. Besides, I do not always +regret my panther and my palm-tree oasis: I must be very sad for +that. But I will tell you this: in the desert there is all--and yet +nothing.'</p> +<p>"'Stay!--explain that.'</p> +<p>"'Well, then,' he said, with a gesture of impatience, 'God is +there, and man is not.'"</p> +<br> +<a name="BALZAC_4"></a> +<h3>FROM 'THE COUNTRY DOCTOR'</h3> +<h4>THE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE</h4> +<p>"Let us go to my barn," said the doctor, taking Genestas by the +arm, after saying good-night to the curate and his other guests. +"And there, Captain Bluteau, you will hear about Napoleon. We shall +find a few old cronies who will set Goguelat, the postman, to +declaiming about the people's god. Nicolle, my stable-man, was to +put a ladder by which we can get into the hay-loft through a +window, and find a place where we can see and hear all that goes +on. A <i>veillée</i> is worth the trouble, believe me. Come, +it isn't the first time I've hidden in the hay to hear the tale of +a soldier or some peasant yarn. But we must hide; if these poor +people see a stranger they are constrained at once, and are no +longer their natural selves."</p> +<p>"Eh! my dear host," said Genestas, "haven't I often pretended to +sleep, that I might listen to my troopers round a bivouac? I never +laughed more heartily in the Paris theatres than I did at an +account of the retreat from Moscow, told in fun, by an old sergeant +to a lot of recruits who were afraid of war. He declared the French +army slept in sheets, and drank its wine well-iced; that the dead +stood still in the roads; Russia was white, they curried the horses +with their teeth; those who liked to skate had lots of fun, and +those who fancied frozen puddings ate their fill; the women were +usually cold, and the only thing that was really disagreeable was +the want of hot water to shave with: in short, he recounted such +absurdities that an old quarter-master, who had had his nose frozen +off and was known by the name Nez-restant, laughed himself."</p> +<p>"Hush," said Benassis, "here we are: I'll go first; follow +me."</p> +<p>The pair mounted the ladder and crouched in the hay, without +being seen or heard by the people below, and placed themselves at +ease, so that they could see and hear all that went on. The women +were sitting in groups round the three or four candles that stood +on the tables. Some were sewing, some knitting; several sat idle, +their necks stretched out and their heads and eyes turned to an old +peasant who was telling a story. Most of the men were standing, or +lying on bales of hay. These groups, all perfectly silent, were +scarcely visible in the flickering glimmer of the tallow-candles +encircled by glass bowls full of water, which concentrated the +light in rays upon the women at work about the tables. The size of +the barn, whose roof was dark and sombre, still further obscured +the rays of light, which touched the heads with unequal color, and +brought out picturesque effects of light and shade. Here, the brown +forehead and the clear eyes of an eager little peasant-girl shone +forth; there, the rough brows of a few old men were sharply defined +by a luminous band, which made fantastic shapes of their worn and +discolored garments. These various listeners, so diverse in their +attitudes, all expressed on their motionless features the absolute +abandonment of their intelligence to the narrator. It was a curious +picture, illustrating the enormous influence exercised over every +class of mind by poetry. In exacting from a story-teller the +marvelous that must still be simple, or the impossible that is +almost believable, the peasant proves himself to be a true lover of +the purest poetry.</p> +<p>"Come, Monsieur Goguelat," said the game-keeper, "tell us about +the Emperor."</p> +<p>"The evening is half over," said the postman, "and I don't like +to shorten the victories."</p> +<p>"Never mind; go on! You've told them so many times we know them +all by heart; but it is always a pleasure to hear them again."</p> +<p>"Yes! tell us about the Emperor," cried many voices +together.</p> +<p>"Since you wish it," replied Goguelat. "But you'll see it isn't +worth much when I have to tell it on the double-quick, charge! I'd +rather tell about a battle. Shall I tell about Champ-Aubert, where +we used up all the cartridges and spitted the enemy on our +bayonets?"</p> +<p>"No! no! the Emperor! the Emperor!"</p> +<p>The veteran rose from his bale of hay and cast upon the +assemblage that black look laden with miseries, emergencies, and +sufferings, which distinguishes the faces of old soldiers. He +seized his jacket by the two front flaps, raised them as if about +to pack the knapsack which formerly held his clothes, his shoes, +and all his fortune; then he threw the weight of his body on his +left leg, advanced the right, and yielded with a good grace to the +demands of the company. After pushing his gray hair to one side to +show his forehead, he raised his head towards heaven that he might, +as it were, put himself on the level of the gigantic history he was +about to relate.</p> +<p>"You see, my friends, Napoleon was born in Corsica, a French +island, warmed by the sun of Italy, where it is like a furnace, and +where the people kill each other, from father to son, all about +nothing: that's a way they have. To begin with the marvel of the +thing,--his mother, who was the handsomest woman of her time, and a +knowing one, bethought herself of dedicating him to God, so that he +might escape the dangers of his childhood and future life; for she +had dreamed that the world was set on fire the day he was born. And +indeed it was a prophecy! So she asked God to protect him, on +condition that Napoleon should restore His holy religion, which was +then cast to the ground. Well, that was agreed upon, and we shall +see what came of it.</p> +<p>"Follow me closely, and tell me if what you hear is in the +nature of man.</p> +<p>"Sure and certain it is that none but a man who conceived the +idea of making a compact with God could have passed unhurt through +the enemy's lines, through cannon-balls, and discharges of +grape-shot that swept the rest of us off like flies, and always +respected his head. I had a proof of that--I myself--at Eylau. I +see him now, as he rode up a height, took his field glass, looked +at the battle, and said, 'A11 goes well.' One of those plumed +busy-bodies, who plagued him considerably and followed him +everywhere, even to his meals, so they said, thought to play the +wag, and took the Emperor's place as he rode away. Ho! in a +twinkling, head and plume were off! You must understand that +Napoleon had promised to keep the secret of his compact all to +himself. That's why all those who followed him, even his nearest +friends, fell like nuts,--Duroc, Bessières, Lannes,--all +strong as steel bars, though <i>he</i> could bend them as he +pleased. Besides,--to prove he was the child of God, and made to be +the father of soldiers,--was he ever known to be lieutenant or +captain? no, no; commander-in-chief from the start. He didn't look +to be more than twenty-four years of age when he was an old general +at the taking of Toulon, where he first began to show the others +that they knew nothing about manoeuvring cannon.</p> +<p>"After that, down came our slip of a general to command the +grand army of Italy, which hadn't bread nor munitions, nor shoes, +nor coats,--a poor army, as naked as a worm. 'My friends,' said he, +'here we are together. Get it into your pates that fifteen days +from now you will be conquerors,--new clothes, good gaiters, famous +shoes, and every man with a great-coat; but, my children, to get +these things you must march to Milan where they are.' And we +marched. France, crushed as flat as a bedbug, straightened up. We +were thirty thousand barefeet against eighty thousand Austrian +bullies, all fine men, well set up. I see 'em now! But Napoleon--he +was then only Bonaparte--he knew how to put the courage into us! We +marched by night, and we marched by day; we slapped their faces at +Montenotte, we thrashed 'em at Rivoli, Lodi, Arcole, Millesimo, and +we never let 'em up. A soldier gets the taste of conquest. So +Napoleon whirled round those Austrian generals, who didn't know +where to poke themselves to get out of his way, and he pelted 'em +well,--nipped off ten thousand men at a blow sometimes, by getting +round them with fifteen hundred Frenchmen, and then he gleaned as +he pleased. He took their cannon, their supplies, their money, +their munitions, in short, all they had that was good to take. He +fought them and beat them on the mountains, he drove them into the +rivers and seas, he bit 'em in the air, he devoured 'em on the +ground, and he lashed 'em everywhere. Hey! the grand army feathered +itself well; for, d'ye see, the Emperor, who was also a wit, called +up the inhabitants and told them he was there to deliver them. So +after that the natives lodged and cherished us; the women too, and +very judicious they were. Now here's the end of it. In Ventose, +'96,--in those times that was the month of March of to-day,--we lay +cuddled in a corner of Savoy with the marmots; and yet, before that +campaign was over, we were masters of Italy, just as Napoleon had +predicted; and by the following March--in a single year and two +campaigns--he had brought us within sight of Vienna. 'Twas a clean +sweep. We devoured their armies, one after the other, and made an +end of four Austrian generals. One old fellow, with white hair, was +roasted like a rat in the straw at Mantua. Kings begged for mercy +on their knees! Peace was won.</p> +<p>"Could a <i>man</i> have done that? No; God helped him, to a +certainty!</p> +<p>"He divided himself up like the loaves in the Gospel, commanded +the battle by day, planned it by night; going and coming, for the +sentinels saw him,--never eating, never sleeping. So, seeing these +prodigies, the soldiers adopted him for their father. Forward, +march! Then those others, the rulers in Paris, seeing this, said to +themselves:--'Here's a bold one that seems to get his orders from +the skies; he's likely to put his paw on France. We must let him +loose on Asia; we will send him to America, perhaps that will +satisfy him.' But 'twas <i>written above</i> for him, as it was for +Jesus Christ. The command went forth that he should go to Egypt. +See again his resemblance to the Son of God. But that's not all. He +called together his best veterans, his fire-eaters, the ones he had +particularly put the devil into, and he said to them like +this:--'My friends, they have given us Egypt to chew up, just to +keep us busy, but we'll swallow it whole in a couple of campaigns, +as we did Italy. The common soldiers shall be princes and have the +land for their own. Forward, march!' 'Forward, march!' cried the +sergeants, and there we were at Toulon, road to Egypt. At that time +the English had all their ships in the sea; but when we embarked +Napoleon said, 'They won't see us. It is just as well that you +should know from this time forth that your general has got his star +in the sky, which guides and protects us.' What was said was done. +Passing over the sea, we took Malta like an orange, just to quench +his thirst for victory; for he was a man who couldn't live and do +nothing.</p> +<p>"So here we are in Egypt. Good. Once here, other orders. The +Egyptians, d'ye see, are men who, ever since the earth was, have +had giants for sovereigns, and armies as numerous as ants; for, you +must understand, that's the land of genii and crocodiles, where +they've built pyramids as big as our mountains, and buried their +kings under them to keep them fresh,--an idea that pleased 'em +mightily. So then, after we disembarked, the Little Corporal said +to us, 'My children, the country you are going to conquer has a lot +of gods that you must respect; because Frenchmen ought to be +friends with everybody, and fight the nations without vexing the +inhabitants. Get it into your skulls that you are not to touch +anything at first, for it is all going to be yours soon. Forward, +march!' So far, so good. But all those people of Africa, to whom +Napoleon was foretold under the name of Kébir-Bonaberdis,--a +word of their lingo that means 'the sultan fires,'--were afraid as +the devil of him. So the Grand Turk, and Asia, and Africa, had +recourse to magic. They sent us a demon, named the Mahdi, supposed +to have descended from heaven on a white horse, which, like its +master, was bullet-proof; and both of them lived on air, without +food to support them. There are some that say they saw them; but I +can't give you any reasons to make you certain about that. The +rulers of Arabia and the Mamelukes tried to make their troopers +believe that the Mahdi could keep them from perishing in battle; +and they pretended he was an angel sent from heaven to fight +Napoleon and get back Solomon's seal. Solomon's seal was part of +their paraphernalia which they vowed our General had stolen. You +must understand that we'd given 'em a good many wry faces, in spite +of what he had said to us.</p> +<p>"Now, tell me how they knew that Napoleon had a pact with God? +Was that natural, d'ye think?</p> +<p>"They held to it in their minds that Napoleon commanded the +genii, and could pass hither and thither in the twinkling of an +eye, like a bird. The fact is, he was everywhere. At last, it came +to his carrying off a queen, beautiful as the dawn, for whom he had +offered all his treasure, and diamonds as big as pigeons' eggs,--a +bargain which the Mameluke to whom she particularly belonged +positively refused, although he had several others. Such matters, +when they come to that pass, can't be settled without a great many +battles; and, indeed, there was no scarcity of battles; there was +fighting enough to please everybody. We were in line at Alexandria, +at Gizeh, and before the Pyramids; we marched in the sun and +through the sand, where some, who had the dazzles, saw water that +they couldn't drink, and shade where their flesh was roasted. But +we made short work of the Mamelukes; and everybody else yielded at +the voice of Napoleon, who took possession of Upper and Lower +Egypt, Arabia, and even the capitals of kingdoms that were no more, +where there were thousand of statues and all the plagues of Egypt, +more particularly lizards,--a mammoth of a country where everybody +could take his acres of land for as little as he pleased. Well, +while Napoleon was busy with his affairs inland,--where he had it +in his head to do fine things,--the English burned his fleet at +Aboukir; for they were always looking about them to annoy us. But +Napoleon, who had the respect of the East and of the West, whom the +Pope called his son, and the cousin of Mohammed called 'his dear +father,' resolved to punish England, and get hold of India in +exchange for his fleet. He was just about to take us across the Red +Sea into Asia, a country where there are diamonds and gold to pay +the soldiers and palaces for bivouacs, when the Mahdi made a treaty +with the Plague, and sent it down to hinder our victories. Halt! +The army to a man defiled at that parade; and few there were who +came back on their feet. Dying soldiers couldn't take Saint-Jean +d'Acre, though they rushed at it three times with generous and +martial obstinacy. The Plague was the strongest. No saying to that +enemy, 'My good friend.' Every soldier lay ill. Napoleon alone was +fresh as a rose, and the whole army saw him drinking in pestilence +without its doing him a bit of harm.</p> +<p>"Ha! my friends! will you tell me that <i>that's</i> in the +nature of a mere man?</p> +<p>"The Mamelukes knowing we were all in the ambulances, thought +they could stop the way; but that sort of joke wouldn't do with +Napoleon. So he said to his demons, his veterans, those that had +the toughest hide, 'Go, clear me the way.' Junot, a sabre of the +first cut, and his particular friend, took a thousand men, no more, +and ripped up the army of the pacha who had had the presumption to +put himself in the way. After that, we came back to headquarters at +Cairo. Now, here's another side of the story. Napoleon absent, +France was letting herself be ruined by the rulers in Paris, who +kept back the pay of the soldiers of the other armies, and their +clothing, and their rations; left them to die of hunger, and +expected them to lay down the law to the universe without taking +any trouble to help them. Idiots! who amused themselves by +chattering, instead of putting their own hands in the dough. Well, +that's how it happened that our armies were beaten, and the +frontiers of France were encroached upon: THE MAN was not there. +Now observe, I say <i>man</i> because that's what they called him; +but 'twas nonsense, for he had a star and all its belongings; it +was we who were only men. He taught history to France after his +famous battle of Aboukir, where, without losing more than three +hundred men, and with a single division, he vanquished the grand +army of the Turk, seventy-five thousand strong, and hustled more +than half of it into the sea, r-r-rah!</p> +<p>"That was his last thunder-clap in Egypt. He said to himself, +seeing the way things were going in Paris, 'I am the savior of +France. I know it, and I must go.' But, understand me, the army +didn't know he was going, or they'd have kept him by force and made +him Emperor of the East. So now we were sad; for He was gone who +was all our joy. He left the command to Kléber, a big +mastiff, who came off duty at Cairo, assassinated by an Egyptian, +whom they put to death by impaling him on a bayonet; that's the way +they guillotine people down there. But it makes 'em suffer so much +that a soldier had pity on the criminal and gave him his canteen; +and then, as soon as the Egyptian had drunk his fill, he gave up +the ghost with all the pleasure in life. But that's a trifle we +couldn't laugh at then. Napoleon embarked in a cockleshell, a +little skiff that was nothing at all, though 'twas called +'Fortune'; and in a twinkling, under the nose of England, who was +blockading him with ships of the line, frigates, and anything that +could hoist a sail, he crossed over, and there he was in France. +For he always had the power, mind you, of crossing the seas at one +straddle.</p> +<p>"Was that a human man? Bah!</p> +<p>"So, one minute he is at Fréjus, the next in Paris. +There, they all adore him; but he summons the government. 'What +have you done with my children, the soldiers?' he says to the +lawyers. 'You're a mob of rascally scribblers; you are making +France a mess of pottage, and snapping your fingers at what people +think of you. It won't do; and I speak the opinion of everybody.' +So, on that, they wanted to battle with him and kill him--click! he +had 'em locked up in barracks, or flying out of windows, or drafted +among his followers, where they were as mute as fishes, and as +pliable as a quid of tobacco. After that stroke--consul! And then, +as it was not for him to doubt the Supreme Being, he fulfilled his +promise to the good God, who, you see, had kept His word to him. He +gave Him back his churches, and re-established His religion; the +bells rang for God and for him: and lo! everybody was pleased: +<i>primo</i>, the priests, whom he saved from being harassed; +<i>secundo</i>, the bourgeois, who thought only of their trade, and +no longer had to fear the <i>rapiamus</i> of the law, which had got +to be unjust; <i>tertio</i>, the nobles, for he forbade they should +be killed, as, unfortunately, the people had got the habit of +doing.</p> +<p>"But he still had the Enemy to wipe out; and he wasn't the man +to go to sleep at a mess-table, because, d'ye see, his eye looked +over the whole earth as if it were no bigger than a man's head. So +then he appeared in Italy, like as though he had stuck his head +through the window. One glance was enough. The Austrians were +swallowed up at Marengo like so many gudgeons by a whale! Ouf! The +French eagles sang their paeans so loud that all the world heard +them--and it sufficed! 'We won't play that game any more,' said the +German. 'Enough, enough!' said all the rest.</p> +<p>"To sum up: Europe backed down, England knocked under. General +peace; and the kings and the people made believe kiss each other. +That's the time when the Emperor invented the Legion of Honor--and +a fine thing, too. 'In France'--this is what he said at Boulogne +before the whole army--'every man is brave. So the citizen who does +a fine action shall be sister to the soldier, and the soldier shall +be his brother, and the two shall be one under the flag of +honor.'</p> +<p>"We, who were down in Egypt, now came home. All was changed! He +left us general, and hey! in a twinkling we found him EMPEROR. +France gave herself to him, like a fine girl to a lancer. When it +was done--to the satisfaction of all, as you may say--a sacred +ceremony took place, the like of which was never seen under the +canopy of the skies. The Pope and the cardinals, in their red and +gold vestments, crossed the Alps expressly to crown him before the +army and the people, who clapped their hands. There is one thing +that I should do very wrong not to tell you. In Egypt, in the +desert close to Syria, the RED MAN came to him on the Mount of +Moses, and said, 'All is well.' Then, at Marengo, the night before +the victory, the same Red Man appeared before him for the second +time, standing erect and saying, 'Thou shalt see the world at thy +feet; thou shalt be Emperor of France, King of Italy, master of +Holland, sovereign of Spain, Portugal, and the Illyrian provinces, +protector of Germany, savior of Poland, first eagle of the Legion +of Honor--all.' This Red Man, you understand, was his genius, his +spirit,--a sort of satellite who served him, as some say, to +communicate with his star. I never really believed that. But the +Red Man himself is a true fact. Napoleon spoke of him, and said he +came to him in troubled moments, and lived in the palace of the +Tuileries under the roof. So, on the day of the coronation, +Napoleon saw him for the third time; and they were in consultation +over many things.</p> +<p>"After that, Napoleon went to Milan to be crowned king of Italy, +and there the grand triumph of the soldier began. Every man who +could write was made an officer. Down came pensions; it rained +duchies; treasures poured in for the staff which didn't cost France +a penny; and the Legion of Honor provided incomes for the private +soldiers,--of which I receive mine to this day. So here were the +armies maintained as never before on this earth. But besides that, +the Emperor, knowing that he was to be the emperor of the whole +world, bethought him of the bourgeois, and to please them he built +fairy monuments, after their own ideas, in places where you'd never +think to find any. For instance, suppose you were coming back from +Spain and going to Berlin--well, you'd find triumphal arches along +the way, with common soldiers sculptured on the stone, every bit +the same as generals. In two or three years, and without imposing +taxes on any of you, Napoleon filled his vaults with gold, built +palaces, made bridges, roads, scholars, fêtes, laws, vessels, +harbors, and spent millions upon millions,--such enormous sums that +he could, so they tell me, have paved France from end to end with +five-franc pieces, if he had had a mind to.</p> +<p>"Now, when he sat at ease on his throne, and was master of all, +so that Europe waited his permission to do his bidding, he +remembered his four brothers and his three sisters, and he said to +us, as it might be in conversation, in an order of the day, 'My +children, is it right that the blood relations of your Emperor +should be begging their bread? No. I wish to see them in splendor +like myself. It becomes, therefore, absolutely necessary to conquer +a kingdom for each of them,--to the end that Frenchmen may be +masters over all lands, that the soldiers of the Guard shall make +the whole earth tremble, that France may spit where she likes, and +that all the nations shall say to her, as it is written on my +copper coins, '<i>God protects you</i>!' 'Agreed,' cried the army. +'We'll go fish for thy kingdoms with our bayonets.' Ha! there was +no backing down, don't you see! If he had taken it into his head to +conquer the moon, we should have made ready, packed knapsacks, and +clambered up; happily, he didn't think of it. The kings of the +countries, who liked their comfortable thrones, were naturally +loathe to budge, and had to have their ears pulled; so +then--Forward, march! We did march; we got there; and the earth +once more trembled to its centre. Hey! the men and the shoes he +used up in those days! The enemy dealt us such blows that none but +the grand army could have stood the fatigue of it. But you are not +ignorant that a Frenchman is born a philosopher, and knows that a +little sooner, or a little later, he has got to die. So we were +ready to die without a word, for we liked to see the Emperor doing +<i>that</i> on the geographies."</p> +<p>Here the narrator nimbly described a circle with his foot on the +floor of the barn.</p> +<p>"And Napoleon said, 'There, that's to be a kingdom.' And a +kingdom it was. Ha! the good times! The colonels were generals; the +generals, marshals; and the marshals, kings. There's one of 'em +still on his throne, to prove it to Europe; but he's a Gascon and a +traitor to France for keeping that crown; and he doesn't blush for +shame as he ought to do, because crowns, don't you see, are made of +gold. I who am speaking to you, I have seen, in Paris, eleven kings +and a mob of princes surrounding Napoleon like the rays of the sun. +You understand, of course, that every soldier had the chance to +mount a throne, provided always he had the merit; so a corporal of +the Guard was a sight to be looked at as he walked along, for each +man had his share in the victory, and 'twas plainly set forth in +the bulletin. What victories they were! Austerlitz, where the army +manoeuvred as if on parade; Eylau, where we drowned the Russians in +a lake, as though Napoleon had blown them into it with the breath +of his mouth; Wagram, where the army fought for three days without +grumbling. We won as many battles as there are saints in the +calendar. It was proved then beyond a doubt, that Napoleon had the +sword of God in his scabbard. The soldiers were his friends; he +made them his children; he looked after us; he saw that we had +shoes, and shirts, and great-coats, and bread, and cartridges; but +he always kept up his majesty; for, don't you see, 'twas his +business to reign. No matter for that, however; a sergeant, and +even a common soldier could say to him, 'My Emperor,' just as you +say to me sometimes, 'My good friend.' He gave us an answer if we +appealed to him; he slept in the snow like the rest of us; and +indeed, he had almost the air of a human man. I who speak to you, I +have seen him with his feet among the grapeshot, and no more uneasy +than you are now,--standing steady, looking through his field +glass, and minding his business. 'Twas that kept the rest of us +quiet. I don't know how he did it, but when he spoke he made our +hearts burn within us; and to show him we were his children, +incapable of balking, didn't we rush at the mouths of the rascally +cannon, that belched and vomited shot and shell without so much as +saying, 'Look out!' Why! the dying must needs raise their heads to +salute him and cry, 'LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!'</p> +<p>"I ask you, was that natural? would they have done that for a +human man?</p> +<p>"Well, after he had settled the world, the Empress Josephine, +his wife, a good woman all the same, managed matters so that she +did not bear him any children, and he was obliged to give her up, +though he loved her considerably. But, you see, he had to have +little ones for reasons of state. Hearing of this, all the +sovereigns of Europe quarreled as to which of them should give him +a wife. And he married, so they told us, an Austrian archduchess, +daughter of Caesar, an ancient man about whom people talk a good +deal, and not in France only,--where any one will tell you what he +did,--but in Europe. It is all true, for I myself who address you +at this moment, I have been on the Danube, and have seen the +remains of a bridge built by that man, who, it seems, was a +relation of Napoleon in Rome, and that's how the Emperor got the +inheritance of that city for his son. So after the marriage, which +was a fête for the whole world, and in honor of which he +released the people of ten years' taxes,--which they had to pay all +the same, however, because the assessors didn't take account of +what he said,--his wife had a little one, who was King of Rome. +Now, there's a thing that had never been seen on this earth; never +before was a child born a king with his father living. On that day +a balloon went up in Paris to tell the news to Rome, and that +balloon made the journey in one day!</p> +<p>"Now, is there any man among you who will stand up and declare +to me that all that was human? No; it was <i>written above;</i> and +may the scurvy seize them who deny that he was sent by God himself +for the triumph of France!</p> +<p>"Well, here's the Emperor of Russia, that used to be his friend, +he gets angry because Napoleon didn't marry a Russian; so he joins +with the English, our enemies,--to whom our Emperor always wanted +to say a couple of words in their burrows, only he was prevented. +Napoleon gets angry too; an end had to be put to such doings; so he +says to us:--'Soldiers! you have been masters of every capital in +Europe, except Moscow, which is now the ally of England. To conquer +England, and India which belongs to the English, it becomes our +peremptory duty to go to Moscow.' Then he assembled the greatest +army that ever trailed its gaiters over the globe; and so +marvelously in hand it was that he reviewed a million of men in one +day. 'Hourra! cried the Russians. Down came all Russia and those +animals of Cossacks in a flock. 'Twas nation against nation, a +general hurly-burly, and beware who could; 'Asia against Europe,' +as the Red Man had foretold to Napoleon. 'Enough,' cried the +Emperor, 'I'll be ready.'</p> +<p>"So now, sure enough, came all the kings, as the Red Man had +said, to lick Napoleon's hand! Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, +Poland, Italy, every one of them were with us, flattering us; ah, +it was fine! The eagles never cawed so loud as at those parades, +perched high above the banners of all Europe. The Poles were +bursting with joy, because Napoleon was going to release them; and +that's why France and Poland are brothers to this day. 'Russia is +ours,' cried the army. We plunged into it well supplied; we marched +and we marched,--no Russians. At last we found the brutes +entrenched on the banks of the Moskova. That's where I won my +cross, and I've got the right to say it was a damnable battle. This +was how it came about. The Emperor was anxious. He had seen the Red +Man, who said to him, 'My son, you are going too fast for your +feet; you will lack men; friends will betray you.' So the Emperor +offered peace. But before signing, 'Let us drub those Russians!' he +said to us. 'Done!' cried the army. 'Forward, march!' said the +sergeants. My clothes were in rags, my shoes worn out, from +trudging along those roads, which are very uncomfortable ones; but +no matter! I said to myself, 'As it's the last of our +earthquakings, I'll go into it, tooth and nail!' We were drawn up +in line before the great ravine,--front seats, as 'twere. Signal +given; and seven hundred pieces of artillery began a conversation +that would bring the blood from your ears. Then--must do justice to +one's enemies--the Russians let themselves be killed like +Frenchmen; they wouldn't give way; we couldn't advance. 'Forward,' +some one cried, 'here comes the Emperor!' True enough; he passed at +a gallop, waving his hand to let us know we must take the redoubt. +He inspired us; on we ran, I was the first in the ravine. Ha! my +God! how the lieutenants fell, and the colonels, and the soldiers! +No matter! all the more shoes for those that had none, and epaulets +for the clever ones who knew how to read. 'Victory!' cried the +whole line; 'Victory!'--and, would you believe it? a thing never +seen before, there lay twenty-five thousand Frenchmen on the +ground. 'Twas like mowing down a wheat-field; only in place of the +ears of wheat put the heads of men! We were sobered by this +time,--those who were left alive. The MAN rode up; we made a circle +round him. Ha! he knew how to cajole his children; he could be +amiable when he liked, and feed 'em with words when their stomachs +were ravenous with the hunger of wolves. Flatterer! he distributed +the crosses himself, he uncovered to the dead, and then he cried to +us, 'On! to Moscow!' 'To Moscow!' answered the army.</p> +<p>"We took Moscow. Would you believe it? the Russians burned their +own city! 'Twas a haystack six miles square, and it blazed for two +days. The buildings crashed like slates, and showers of melted iron +and lead rained down upon us, which was naturally horrible. I may +say to you plainly, it was like a flash of lightning on our +disasters. The Emperor said, 'We have done enough; my soldiers +shall rest here.' So we rested awhile, just to get the breath into +our bodies and the flesh on our bones, for we were really tired. We +took possession of the golden cross that was on the Kremlin; and +every soldier brought away with him a small fortune. But out there +the winter sets in a month earlier,--a thing those fools of science +didn't properly explain. So, coming back, the cold nipped us. No +longer an army--do you hear me?--no longer any generals, no longer +any sergeants even. 'Twas the reign of wretchedness and hunger,--a +reign of equality at last. No one thought of anything but to see +France once more; no one stooped to pick up his gun or his money if +he dropped them; each man followed his nose, and went as he pleased +without caring for glory. The weather was so bad the Emperor +couldn't see his star; there was something between him and the +skies. Poor man! it made him ill to see his eagles flying away from +victory. Ah! 'twas a mortal blow, you may believe me.</p> +<p>"Well, we got to the Beresina. My friends, I can affirm to you +by all that is most sacred, by my honor, that since mankind came +into the world, never, never, was there seen such a fricassee of an +army--guns, carriages, artillery wagons--in the midst of such +snows, under such relentless skies! The muzzles of the muskets +burned our hands if we touched them, the iron was so cold. It was +there that the army was saved by the pontoniers, who were firm at +their post; and there that Gondrin--sole survivor of the men who +were bold enough to go into the water and build the bridges by +which the army crossed--that Gondrin, here present, admirably +conducted himself, and saved us from the Russians, who, I must tell +you, still respected the grand army, remembering its victories. +And," he added, pointing to Gondrin, who was gazing at him with the +peculiar attention of a deaf man, "Gondrin is a finished soldier, a +soldier who is honor itself, and he merits your highest +esteem."</p> +<p>"I saw the Emperor," he resumed, "standing by the bridge, +motionless, not feeling the cold--was that human? He looked at the +destruction of his treasure, his friends, his old Egyptians. Bah! +all that passed him, women, army wagons, artillery, all were +shattered, destroyed, ruined. The bravest carried the eagles; for +the eagles, d'ye see, were France, the nation, all of you! they +were the civil and the military honor that must be kept pure; could +their heads be lowered because of the cold? It was only near the +Emperor that we warmed ourselves, because when he was in danger we +ran, frozen as we were--we, who wouldn't have stretched a hand to +save a friend. They told us he wept at night over his poor family +of soldiers. Ah! none but he and Frenchmen could have got +themselves out of that business.</p> +<p>"We did get out, but with losses, great losses, as I tell you. +The Allies captured our provisions. Men began to betray him, as the +Red Man predicted. Those chatterers in Paris, who had held their +tongues after the Imperial Guard was formed, now thought he was +dead; so they hoodwinked the prefect of police, and hatched a +conspiracy to overthrow the empire. He heard of it; it worried him. +He left us, saying: 'Adieu, my children; guard the outposts; I +shall return to you.' Bah! without him nothing went right; the +generals lost their heads; the marshals talked nonsense and +committed follies; but that was not surprising, for Napoleon, who +was kind, had fed 'em on gold; they had got as fat as lard, and +wouldn't stir; some stayed in camp when they ought to have been +warming the backs of the enemy who was between us and France.</p> +<p>"But the Emperor came back, and he brought recruits, famous +recruits; he changed their backbone and made 'em dogs of war, fit +to set their teeth into anything; and he brought a guard of honor, +a fine body indeed!--all bourgeois, who melted away like butter on +a gridiron.</p> +<p>"Well, spite of our stern bearing, here's everything going +against us; and yet the army did prodigies of valor. Then came +battles on the mountains, nations against nations,--Dresden, +Lutzen, Bautzen. Remember these days, all of you, for 'twas then +that Frenchmen were so particularly heroic that a good grenadier +only lasted six months. We triumphed always; yet there were those +English, in our rear, rousing revolts against us with their lies! +No matter, we cut our way home through the whole pack of the +nations. Wherever the Emperor showed himself we followed him; for +if, by sea or land, he gave us the word 'Go!' we went. At last, we +were in France; and many a poor foot-soldier felt the air of his +own country restore his soul to satisfaction, spite of the wintry +weather. I can say for myself that it refreshed my life. Well, +next, our business was to defend France, our country, our beautiful +France, against all Europe, which resented our having laid down the +law to the Russians, and pushed them back into their dens, so that +they couldn't eat us up alive, as northern nations, who are dainty +and like southern flesh, have a habit of doing,--at least, so I've +heard some generals say. Then the Emperor saw his own +father-in-law, his friends whom he had made kings, and the +scoundrels to whom he had given back their thrones, all against +him. Even Frenchmen, and allies in our own ranks, turned against us +under secret orders, as at the battle of Leipsic. Would common +soldiers have been capable of such wickedness? Three times a day +men were false to their word,--and they called themselves +princes!</p> +<p>"So, then, France was invaded. Wherever the Emperor showed his +lion face, the enemy retreated; and he did more prodigies in +defending France than ever he had done in conquering Italy, the +East, Spain, Europe, and Russia. He meant to bury every invader +under the sod, and teach 'em to respect the soil of France. So he +let them get to Paris, that he might swallow them at a mouthful, +and rise to the height of his genius in a battle greater than all +the rest,--a mother-battle, as 'twere. But there, there! the +Parisians were afraid for their twopenny skins, and their trumpery +shops; they opened the gates. Then the Ragusades began, and +happiness ended. The Empress was fooled, and the white banner +flaunted from the windows. The generals whom he had made his +nearest friends abandoned him for the Bourbons,--a set of people no +one had heard tell of. The Emperor bade us farewell at +Fontainebleau:--'Soldiers!'--I can hear him now; we wept like +children; the flags and the eagles were lowered as if for a +funeral: it was, I may well say it to you, it was the funeral of +the Empire; her dapper armies were nothing now but skeletons. So he +said to us, standing there on the portico of his palace:--'My +soldiers! we are vanquished by treachery; but we shall meet in +heaven, the country of the brave. Defend my child, whom I commit to +you. Long live Napoleon II!' He meant to die, that no man should +look upon Napoleon vanquished; he took poison, enough to have +killed a regiment, because, like Jesus Christ before his Passion, +he thought himself abandoned of God and his talisman. But the +poison did not hurt him.</p> +<p>"See again! he found he was immortal.</p> +<p>"Sure of himself, knowing he must ever be THE EMPEROR, he went +for a while to an island to study out the nature of these others, +who, you may be sure, committed follies without end. Whilst he +bided his time down there, the Chinese, and the wild men on the +coast of Africa, and the Barbary States, and others who are not at +all accommodating, knew so well he was more than man that they +respected his tent, saying to touch it would be to offend God. +Thus, d'ye see, when these others turned him from the doors of his +own France, he still reigned over the whole world. Before long he +embarked in the same little cockleshell of a boat he had had in +Egypt, sailed round the beard of the English, set foot in France, +and France acclaimed him. The sacred cuckoo flew from spire to +spire; all France cried out with one voice, 'LONG LIVE THE +EMPEROR!' In this region, here, the enthusiasm for that wonder of +the ages was, I may say, solid. Dauphiné behaved well; and I +am particularly pleased to know that her people wept when they saw, +once more, the gray overcoat. March first it was, when Napoleon +landed with two hundred men to conquer that kingdom of France and +of Navarre, which on the twentieth of the same month was again the +French Empire. On that day our MAN was in Paris; he had made a +clean sweep, recovered his dear France, and gathered his veterans +together by saying no more than three words, 'I am here.'</p> +<p>"'Twas the greatest miracle God had yet done! Before <i>him</i>, +did ever man recover an empire by showing his hat? And these +others, who thought they had subdued France! Not they! At sight of +the eagles, a national army sprang up, and we marched to Waterloo. +There, the Guard died at one blow. Napoleon, in despair, threw +himself three times before the cannon of the enemy without +obtaining death. We saw that. The battle was lost. That night the +Emperor called his old soldiers to him; on the field soaked with +our blood he burned his banner and his eagles,--his poor eagles, +ever victorious, who cried 'Forward' in the battles, and had flown +the length and breadth of Europe, <i>they</i> were saved the infamy +of belonging to the enemy: all the treasures of England couldn't +get her a tail-feather of them. No more eagles!--the rest is well +known. The Red Man went over to the Bourbons, like the scoundrel +that he is. France is crushed; the soldier is nothing; they deprive +him of his dues; they discharge him to make room for broken-down +nobles--ah, 'tis pitiable! They seized Napoleon by treachery; the +English nailed him on a desert island in mid-ocean on a rock raised +ten thousand feet above the earth; and there he is, and will be, +till the Red Man gives him back his power for the happiness of +France. These others say he's dead. Ha, dead! 'Tis easy to see they +don't know Him. They tell that fib to catch the people, and feel +safe in their hovel of a government. Listen! the truth at the +bottom of it all is that his friends have left him alone on the +desert island to fulfil a prophecy, for I forgot to say that his +name, Napoleon, means 'lion of the desert.' Now this that I tell +you is true as the Gospel. All other tales that you hear about the +Emperor are follies without common-sense; because, d'ye see, God +never gave to child of woman born the right to stamp his name in +red as <i>he</i> did, on the earth, which forever shall remember +him! Long live Napoleon, the father of his people and of the +soldier!"</p> +<p>"Long live General Eblé!" cried the pontonier.</p> +<p>"How happened it you were not killed in the ravine at Moskova?" +asked a peasant woman.</p> +<p>"How do I know? We went in a regiment, we came out a hundred +foot-soldiers; none but the lines were capable of taking that +redoubt: the infantry, d'ye see, that's the real army."</p> +<p>"And the cavalry! what of that?" cried Genastas, letting himself +roll from the top of the hay, and appearing to us with a suddenness +which made the bravest utter a cry of terror. "Eh! my old veteran, +you forget the red lancers of Poniatowski, the cuirassiers, the +dragoons! they that shook the earth when Napoleon, impatient that +the victory was delayed, said to Murat, 'Sire, cut them in two.' +Ha, we were off! first at a trot, then at a gallop, 'one, two,' and +the enemy's line was cut in halves like an apple with a knife. A +charge of cavalry, my old hero! why, 'tis a column of cannon +balls!"</p> +<p>"How about the pontoniers?" cried Gondrin.</p> +<p>"My children," said Genastas, becoming suddenly quite ashamed of +his sortie when he saw himself in the midst of a silent and +bewildered group, "there are no spies here,--see, take this and +drink to the Little Corporal."</p> +<p>"LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!" cried all the people present, with one +voice.</p> +<p>"Hush, my children!" said the officer, struggling to control his +emotion. "Hush! <i>he is dead</i>. He died saying, 'Glory, France, +and battle.' My friends, he had to die, he! but his +memory--never!"</p> +<p>Goguelat made a gesture of disbelief; then he said in a low +voice to those nearest, "The officer is still in the service, and +he's told to tell the people the Emperor is dead. We mustn't be +angry with him, because, d'ye see, a soldier has to obey +orders."</p> +<p>As Genestas left the barn he heard the Fosseuse say, "That +officer is a friend of the Emperor and of Monsieur Benassis." On +that, all the people rushed to the door to get another sight of +him, and by the light of the moon they saw the doctor take his +arm.</p> +<p>"I committed a great folly," said Genestas. "Let us get home +quickly. Those eagles--the cannon--the campaigns! I no longer knew +where I was."</p> +<p>"What do you think of my Goguelat?" asked Benassis.</p> +<p>"Monsieur, so long as such tales are told, France will carry in +her entrails the fourteen armies of the Republic, and may at any +time renew the conversation of cannon with all Europe. That's my +opinion."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>GEORGE <a name="BANCROFT"></a>BANCROFT</h2> +<h3>(1800-1891)</h3> +<h3>BY AUSTIN SCOTT</h3> +<br> +<p class="par"><img src="images/letter-t.png" width="30%" alt= +""></p> +<p>he life of George Bancroft was nearly conterminous with the +nineteenth century. He was born at Worcester, Mass., October 3d, +1800, and died at Washington, D.C., January 17th, 1891. But it was +not merely the stretch of his years that identified him with this +century. In some respects he represented his time as no other of +its men. He came into touch with many widely differing elements +which made up its life and character. He spent most of his life in +cities, but never lost the sense for country sights and sounds +which central Massachusetts gave him in Worcester, his birthplace, +and in Northampton, where he taught school. The home into which he +was born offered him from his infancy a rich possession. His father +was a Unitarian clergyman who wrote a 'Life of Washington' that was +received with favor; thus things concerning God and country were +his patrimony. Not without significance was a word of his mother +which he recalled in his latest years, "My son, I do not wish you +to become a rich man, but I would have you be an affluent man: +<i>ad fluo</i>, always a little more coming in than going out."</p> +<p>To the advantages of his boyhood home and of Harvard College, to +which he went as a lad of thirteen, the eager young student added +the opportunity, then uncommon, of a systematic course of study in +German, and won the degree of Doctor of Philosophy at +Göttingen in 1820. He had in a marked degree the +characteristics of his countrymen, versatility and adaptability. +Giving up an early purpose of fitting himself for the pulpit, he +taught in Harvard, and helped to found a school of an advanced type +at Northampton. Meantime he published a volume of verse, and found +out that the passionate love of poetry which lasted through his +life was not creative. At Northampton he published in 1828 a +translation in two volumes of Heeren's 'History of the Political +System of Europe,' and also edited two editions of a Latin Reader; +but the duties of a schoolmaster's life were early thrown aside, +and he could not be persuaded to resume them later when the +headship of an important educational institution was offered to +him. Together with the one great pursuit of his life, to which he +remained true for sixty years, he delighted in the activities of a +politician, the duties of a statesman, and the occupations of a man +of affairs and of the world.</p> +<br> +<a name="image490.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/image490.jpg"><img src= +"images/image490.jpg" width="50%" alt=""></a></p> +<br> +<p>Bancroft received a large but insufficient vote as the +Democratic candidate for the Governorship of Massachusetts, and for +a time he held the office of Collector of the port of Boston. As +Secretary of the Navy in the Cabinet of Polk, he rendered to his +country two distinct services of great value: he founded the Naval +School at Annapolis, and by his prompt orders to the American +commander in the Pacific waters he secured the acquisition of +California for the United States. The special abilities he +displayed in the Cabinet were such, so Polk thought, as to lead to +his appointment as Minister to England in 1846. He was a diplomat +of no mean order. President Johnson appointed him Minister to +Germany in 1867, and Grant retained him at that post until 1874, as +long as Bancroft desired it. During his stay there he concluded +just naturalization treaties with Germany, and in a masterly way +won from the Emperor, William I., as arbitrator, judgment in favor +of the United States's claim over that of Great Britain in the +Northwestern boundary dispute.</p> +<p>Always holding fast his one cherished object,--that of worthily +writing the history of the United States,--Bancroft did not deny +himself the pleasure of roaming in other fields. He wrote +frequently on current topics, on literary, historical, and +political subjects. His eulogies of Jackson and of Lincoln, +pronounced before Congress, entitle him to the rank of an orator. +He was very fond of studies in metaphysics, and Trendelenburg, the +eminent German philosopher, said of him, "Bancroft knows Kant +through and through."</p> +<p>His home--whether in Boston, or in New York where he spent the +middle portion of his life, or in Washington his abode for the last +sixteen years, or during his residence abroad--was the scene of the +occupations and delights which the highest culture craves. He was +gladly welcomed to the inner circle of the finest minds of Germany, +and the tribute of the German men of learning was unfeigned and +universal when he quitted the country in 1874. Many of the best men +of England and of France were among his warm friends. At his table +were gathered from time to time some of the world's greatest +thinkers,--men of science, soldiers, statesmen and men of affairs. +Fond as he was of social joys, it was his daily pleasure to mount +his horse and alone, or with a single companion, to ride where +nature in her shy or in her exuberant mood inspired. One day, after +he was eighty years old, he rode on his young, blooded Kentucky +horse along the Virginia bank of the Potomac for more than +thirty-six miles. He could be seen every day among the perfect +roses of his garden at "Roseclyffe," his Newport summer-home, often +full of thought, at other times in wellnigh boisterous glee, always +giving unstinted care and expense to the queen of flowers. The +books in which he kept the record of the rose garden were almost as +elaborate as those in which were entered the facts and fancies out +of which his History grew. His home life was charming. By a careful +use of opportunities and of his means he became an "affluent" man. +He was twice married: both times a new source of refined domestic +happiness long blessed his home, and new means for enlarged comfort +and hospitality were added to his own. Two sons, children of his +first wife, survived him.</p> +<p>Some of Bancroft's characteristics were not unlike those of +Jefferson. A constant tendency to idealize called up in him at +times a feeling verging on impatience with the facts or the men +that stood in the way of a theory or the accomplishment of a +personal desire. He had a keen perception of an underlying or a +final truth and professed warm love for it, whether in the large +range of history or in the nexus of current politics: any one +taking a different point of view at times was led to think that his +facts, as he stated them, lay crosswise, and might therefore find +the perspective out of drawing, but could not rightly impugn his +good faith.</p> +<p>Although a genuine lover of his race and a believer in +Democracy, he was not always ready to put implicit trust in the +individual as being capable of exercising a wise judgment and the +power of true self-direction. For man he avowed a perfect respect; +among men his bearing showed now and then a trace of condescension. +In controversies over disputed points of history--and he had many +such--he meant to be fair and to anticipate the final verdict of +truth, but overwhelming evidence was necessary to convince him that +his judgment, formed after painstaking research, could be wrong. +His ample love of justice, however, is proved by his passionate +appreciation of the character of Washington, by his unswerving +devotion to the conception of our national unity, both in its +historical development and at the moment when it was imperiled by +civil war, and by his hatred of slavery and of false financial +policies. He took pleasure in giving generously, but always +judiciously and without ostentation. On one occasion he, with a few +of his friends, paid off the debt from the house of an eminent +scholar; on another, he helped to rebuild for a great thinker the +home which had been burned. At Harvard, more than fifty years after +his graduation, he founded a traveling scholarship and named it in +honor of the president of his college days.</p> +<p>As to the manner of his work, Bancroft laid large plans and gave +to the details of their execution unwearied zeal. The scope of the +'History of the United States' as he planned it was admirable. In +carrying it out he was persistent in acquiring materials, sparing +no pains in his research at home and abroad, and no cost in +securing original papers or exact copies and transcripts from the +archives of England and France, Spain and Holland and Germany, from +public libraries and from individuals; he fished in all waters and +drew fish of all sorts into his net. He took great pains, and the +secretaries whom he employed to aid him in his work were instructed +likewise to take great pains, not only to enter facts in the +reference books in their chronological order, but to make all +possible cross-references to related facts. The books of his +library, which was large and rich in treasures, he used as tools, +and many of them were filled with cross references. In the +fly-leaves of the books he read he made note with a word and the +cited page of what the printed pages contained of interest to him +or of value in his work.</p> +<p>His mind was one of quick perceptions within a wide range, and +always alert to grasp an idea in its manifold relations. It is +remarkable, therefore, that he was very laborious in his method of +work. He often struggled long with a thought for intellectual +mastery. In giving it expression, his habit was to dictate rapidly +and with enthusiasm and at great length, but he usually selected +the final form after repeated efforts. His first draft of a chapter +was revised again and again and condensed. One of his early volumes +in its first manuscript form was eight times as long as when +finally published. He had another striking habit, that of writing +by topics rather than in strict chronological order, so that a +chapter which was to find its place late in the volume was often +completed before one which was to precede it. Partly by nature and +perhaps partly by this practice, he had the power to carry on +simultaneously several trains of thought. When preparing one of his +public orations, it was remarked by one of his household that after +an evening spent over a trifling game of bezique, the next morning +found him well advanced beyond the point where the work had been +seemingly laid down. He had the faculty of buoying a thought, +knowing just where to take it up after an interruption and deftly +splicing it in continuous line, sometimes after a long interval. +When about to begin the preparation of the argument which was to +sustain triumphantly the claim of the United States in the boundary +question, he wrote from Berlin for copies of documents filed in the +office of the Navy Department, which he remembered were there +five-and-twenty years before.</p> +<p>The 'History of the United States from the Discovery of America +to the Inauguration of Washington' is treated by Bancroft in three +parts. The first, Colonial History from 1492 to 1748, occupies more +than one fourth of his pages. The second part, the American +Revolution, 1748 to 1782, claims more than one half of the entire +work, and is divided into four epochs:--the first, 1748-1763, is +entitled 'The Overthrow of the European Colonial System'; the +second, 1763-1774, 'How Great Britain Estranged America'; the +third, 1774-1776, 'America Declares Itself Independent'; the +fourth, 1776-1782, 'The Independence of America is Acknowledged.' +The last part, 'The History of the Formation of the Constitution,' +1782-1789, though published as a separate work, is essentially a +continuation of the History proper, of which it forms in bulk +rather more than one tenth.</p> +<p>If his services as a historian are to be judged by any one +portion of his work rather than by another, the history of the +formation of the Constitution affords the best test. In that the +preceding work comes to fruition; the time of its writing, after +the Civil War and the consequent settling of the one vexing +question by the abolition of sectionalism, and when he was in the +fullness of the experience of his own ripe years, was most +opportune. Bancroft was equal to his opportunity. He does not teach +us that the Constitution is the result of superhuman wisdom, nor on +the other hand does he admit, as John Adams asserted, that however +excellent, the Constitution was wrung "from the grinding necessity +of a reluctant people." He does not fail to point out the critical +nature of the four years prior to the meeting of the Federal +Convention; but he discerns that whatever occasions, whether +transitory or for the time of "steady and commanding influence," +may help or hinder the formation of the now perfect union, its true +cause was "an indwelling necessity" in the people to "form above +the States a common constitution for the whole."</p> +<p>Recognizing the fact that the primary cause for the true union +was remote in origin and deep and persistent, Bancroft gives a +retrospect of the steps toward union from the founding of the +colonies to the close of the war for independence. Thenceforward, +suggestions as to method or form of amending the Articles of +Confederation, whether made by individuals, or State Legislatures, +or by Congress, were in his view helps indeed to promote the +movement; but they were first of all so many proofs that despite +all the contrary wayward surface indications, the strong current +was flowing independently toward the just and perfect union. Having +acknowledged this fundamental fact of the critical years between +Yorktown and the Constitution, the historian is free to give just +and discriminating praise to all who shared at that time in +redeeming the political hope of mankind, to give due but not +exclusive honor to Washington and Thomas Paine, to Madison and +Hamilton and their co-worthies.</p> +<p>The many attempts, isolated or systematic, during the period +from 1781-1786, to reform the Articles of Confederation, were +happily futile; but they were essential in the training of the +people in the consciousness of the nature of the work for which +they are responsible. The balances must come slowly to a poise. Not +merely union strong and for a time effective, was needed, but union +of a certain and unprecedented sort: one in which the true pledge +of permanency for a continental republic was to be found in the +federative principle, by which the highest activities of nation and +of State were conditioned each by the welfare of the other. The +people rightly felt, too, that a Congress of one house would be +inadequate and dangerous. They waited in the midst of risks for the +proper hour, and then, not reluctantly but resolutely, adopted the +Constitution as a promising experiment in government.</p> +<p>Bancroft's treatment of the evolution of the second great +organic act of this time--the Northwestern ordinance--is no less +just and true to the facts. For two generations men had snatched at +the laurels due to the creator of that matchless piece of +legislation; to award them now to Jefferson, now to Nathan Dane, +now to Rufus King, now to Manasseh Cutler. Bancroft calmly and +clearly shows how the great law grew with the kindly aid and +watchful care of these men and of others.</p> +<p>The deliberations of the Federal Constitution are adequately +recorded; and he gives fair relative recognition to the work and +words of individuals, and the actions of State delegations in +making the great adjustments between nation and States, between +large and small and slave and free States. From his account we +infer that the New Jersey plan was intended by its authors only for +temporary use in securing equality for the States in one essential +part of the government, while the men from Connecticut receive +credit for the compromise which reconciled nationality with true +State rights. Further to be noticed are the results of the +exhaustive study which Bancroft gave to the matter of paper money, +and to the meaning of the clause prohibiting the States from +impairing the obligation of contracts. He devotes nearly one +hundred pages to 'The People of the States in Judgment on the +Constitution,' and rightly; for it is the final act of the separate +States, and by it their individual wills are merged in the will of +the people, which is one, though still politically distributed and +active within State lines. His summary of the main principles of +the Constitution is excellent; and he concludes with a worthy +sketch of the organization of the first Congress under the +Constitution, and of the inauguration of Washington as +President.</p> +<p>In this last portion of the 'History,' while all of his merits +as a historian are not conspicuous, neither are some of his chief +defects. Here the tendency to philosophize, to marshal stately +sentences, and to be discursive, is not so marked.</p> +<p>The first volume of Bancroft's 'History of the United States' +was published in 1834, when the democratic spirit was finding its +first full expression under Jackson, and when John Marshall was +finishing his mighty task of revealing to the people of the United +States the strength that lay in their organic law. As he put forth +volume after volume at irregular intervals for fifty years, he in a +measure continued this work of bringing to the exultant +consciousness of the people the value of their possession of a +continent of liberty and the realization of their responsibility. +In the course of another generation, portions of this 'History of +the United States' may begin to grow antiquated, though the most +brilliant of contemporary journalists quite recently placed it +among the ten books indispensable to every American; but time +cannot take away Bancroft's good part in producing influences, +which, however they may vary in form and force, will last +throughout the nation's life.</p> +<p class="sign"><img src="images/sign497.png" width="50%" alt= +""></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BANCROFT_1"></a> +<h3>THE BEGINNINGS OF VIRGINIA</h3> +<center>From 'History of the United States'</center> +<p>The period of success in planting Virginia had arrived; yet not +till changes in European politics and society had molded the forms +of colonization. The Reformation had broken the harmony of +religious opinion; and differences in the Church began to +constitute the basis of political parties. After the East Indies +had been reached by doubling the southern promontory of Africa, the +great commerce of the world was carried upon the ocean. The art of +printing had been perfected and diffused; and the press spread +intelligence and multiplied the facilities of instruction. The +feudal institutions, which had been reared in the middle ages, were +already undermined by the current of time and events, and, swaying +from their base, threatened to fall. Productive industry had built +up the fortunes and extended the influence of the active classes; +while habits of indolence and expense had impaired the estates and +diminished the power of the nobility. These changes produced +corresponding results in the institutions which were to rise in +America.</p> +<p>A revolution had equally occurred in the purposes for which +voyages were undertaken. The hope of Columbus, as he sailed to the +west, had been the discovery of a new passage to the East Indies. +The passion for gold next became the prevailing motive. Then the +islands and countries near the equator were made the tropical +gardens of the Europeans. At last, the higher design was matured: +to plant permanent Christian colonies; to establish for the +oppressed and the enterprising places of refuge and abode; to found +states in a temperate clime, with all the elements of independent +existence.</p> +<p>In the imperfect condition of industry, a redundant population +had existed in England even before the peace with Spain, which +threw out of employment the gallant men who had served under +Elizabeth by sea and land, and left them no option but to engage as +mercenaries in the quarrels of strangers, or incur the hazards of +"seeking a New World." The minds of many persons of intelligence +and rank were directed to Virginia. The brave and ingenious +Gosnold, who had himself witnessed the fertility of the western +soil, long solicited the concurrence of his friends for the +establishment of a colony, and at last prevailed with Edward Maria +Wingfield, a merchant of the west of England, Robert Hunt, a +clergyman of fortitude and modest worth, and John Smith, an +adventurer of rarest qualities, to risk their lives and hopes of +fortune in an expedition. For more than a year this little company +revolved the project of a plantation. At the same time Sir +Ferdinando Gorges was gathering information of the native +Americans, whom he had received from Waymouth, and whose +descriptions of the country, joined to the favorable views which he +had already imbibed, filled him with the strongest desire of +becoming a proprietary of domains beyond the Atlantic. Gorges was a +man of wealth, rank and influence; he readily persuaded Sir John +Popham, Lord Chief Justice of England, to share his intentions. Nor +had the assigns of Raleigh become indifferent to "western +planting"; which the most distinguished of them all, "industrious +Hakluyt," the historian of maritime enterprise, still promoted by +his personal exertions, his weight of character, and his invincible +zeal. Possessed of whatever information could be derived from +foreign sources and a correspondence with eminent navigators of his +times, and anxiously watching the progress of Englishmen in the +West, his extensive knowledge made him a counselor in every +colonial enterprise.</p> +<p>The King of England, too timid to be active, yet too vain to be +indifferent, favored the design of enlarging his dominions. He had +attempted in Scotland the introduction of the arts of life among +the Highlanders and the Western Isles, by the establishment of +colonies; and the Scottish plantations which he founded in the +northern counties of Ireland contributed to the affluence and the +security of that island. When, therefore, a company of men of +business and men of rank, formed by the experience of Gosnold, the +enthusiasm of Smith, the perseverance of Hakluyt, the influence of +Popham and Gorges, applied to James I. for leave "to deduce a +colony into Virginia," the monarch, on the tenth of April, 1606, +readily set his seal to an ample patent.</p> +<p>The first colonial charter, under which the English were planted +in America, deserves careful consideration.</p> +<p class="loc">D. Appleton and Company, New York.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BANCROFT_2"></a> +<h3>MEN AND GOVERNMENT IN EARLY MASSACHUSETTS</h3> +<center>From 'History of the United States'</center> +<p>These better auspices, and the invitations of Winthrop, won new +emigrants from Europe. During the long summer voyage of the two +hundred passengers who freighted the Griffin, three sermons a day +beguiled their weariness. Among them was Haynes, a man of very +large estate, and larger affections; of a "heavenly" mind, and a +spotless life; of rare sagacity, and accurate but unassuming +judgment; by nature tolerant, ever a friend to freedom, ever +conciliating peace; an able legislator; dear to the people by his +benevolent virtues and his disinterested conduct. Then also came +the most revered spiritual teachers of two commonwealths: the acute +and subtle Cotton, the son of a Puritan lawyer; eminent in +Cambridge as a scholar; quick in the nice perception of +distinctions, and pliant in dialects; in manner persuasive rather +than commanding; skilled in the fathers and the schoolmen, but +finding all their wisdom compactly stored in Calvin; deeply devout +by nature as well as habit from childhood; hating heresy and still +precipitately eager to prevent evil actions by suppressing ill +opinions, yet verging toward a progress in truth and in religious +freedom; an avowed enemy to democracy, which he feared as the blind +despotism of animal instincts in the multitude, yet opposing +hereditary power in all its forms; desiring a government of moral +opinion, according to the laws of universal equity, and claiming +"the ultimate resolution for the whole body of the people:" and +Hooker, of vast endowments, a strong will and an energetic mind; +ingenuous in his temper, and open in his professions; trained to +benevolence by the discipline of affliction; versed in tolerance by +his refuge in Holland; choleric, yet gentle in his affections; firm +in his faith, yet readily yielding to the power of reason; the peer +of the reformers, without their harshness; the devoted apostle to +the humble and the poor, severe toward the proud, mild in his +soothings of a wounded spirit, glowing with the raptures of +devotion, and kindling with the messages of redeeming love; his +eye, voice, gesture, and whole frame animate with the living vigor +of heart-felt religion; public-spirited and lavishly charitable; +and, "though persecutions and banishments had awaited him as one +wave follows another," ever serenely blessed with "a glorious peace +of soul"; fixed in his trust in Providence, and in his adhesion to +that cause of advancing civilization, which he cherished always, +even while it remained to him a mystery. This was he whom, for his +abilities and services, his contemporaries placed "in the first +rank" of men; praising him as "the one rich pearl, with which +Europe more than repaid America for the treasures from her coast." +The people to whom Hooker ministered had preceded him; as he landed +they crowded about him with their welcome. "Now I live," exclaimed +he, as with open arms he embraced them, "now I live if ye stand +fast in the Lord."</p> +<p>Thus recruited, the little band in Massachusetts grew more +jealous of its liberties. "The prophets in exile see the true forms +of the house." By a common impulse, the freemen of the towns chose +deputies to consider in advance the duties of the general court. +The charter plainly gave legislative power to the whole body of the +freemen; if it allowed representatives, thought Winthrop, it was +only by inference; and, as the whole people could not always +assemble, the chief power, it was argued, lay necessarily with the +assistants.</p> +<p>Far different was the reasoning of the people. To check the +democratic tendency, Cotton, on the election day, preached to the +assembled freemen against rotation in office. The right of an +honest magistrate to his place was like that of a proprietor to his +freehold. But the electors, now between three and four hundred in +number, were bent on exercising "their absolute power," and, +reversing the decision of the pulpit, chose a new governor and +deputy. The mode of taking the votes was at the same time reformed; +and, instead of the erection of hands, the ballot-box was +introduced. Thus "the people established a reformation of such +things as they judged to be amiss in the government."</p> +<p>It was further decreed that the whole body of the freemen should +be convened only for the election of the magistrates: to these, +with deputies to be chosen by the several towns, the powers of +legislation and appointment were henceforward intrusted. The +trading corporation was unconsciously become a representative +democracy.</p> +<p>The law against arbitrary taxation followed. None but the +immediate representatives of the people might dispose of lands or +raise money. Thus early did Massachusetts echo the voice of +Virginia, like deep calling unto deep. The state was filled with +the hum of village politicians; "the freemen of every town in the +Bay were busy in inquiring into their liberties and privileges." +With the exception of the principle of universal suffrage, now so +happily established, the representative democracy was as perfect +two centuries ago as it is to-day. Even the magistrates, who acted +as judges, held their office by the annual popular choice. +"Elections cannot be safe there long," said the lawyer Lechford. +The same prediction has been made these two hundred years. The +public mind, ever in perpetual agitation, is still easily shaken, +even by slight and transient impulses; but, after all vibrations, +it follows the laws of the moral world, and safely recovers its +balance.</p> +<p class="loc">D. Appleton and Company, New York.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BANCROFT_3"></a> +<h3>KING PHILIP'S WAR</h3> +<center>From 'History of the United States'</center> +<p>Thus was Philip hurried into "his rebellion"; and he is reported +to have wept as he heard that a white man's blood had been shed. He +had kept his men about him in arms, and had welcomed every +stranger; and yet, against his judgment and his will, he was +involved in war. For what prospect had he of success? The English +were united; the Indians had no alliance: the English made a common +cause; half the Indians were allies of the English, or were quiet +spectators of the fight: the English had guns enough; but few of +the Indians were well armed, and they could get no new supplies: +the English had towns for their shelter and safe retreat; the +miserable wigwams of the natives were defenseless: the English had +sure supplies of food; the Indians might easily lose their +precarious stores. Frenzy prompted their rising. They rose without +hope, and they fought without mercy. For them as a nation, there +was no to-morrow.</p> +<p>The minds of the English were appalled by the horrors of the +impending conflict, and superstition indulged in its wild +inventions. At the time of the eclipse of the moon, you might have +seen the figure of an Indian scalp imprinted on the centre of its +disk. The perfect form of an Indian bow appeared in the sky. The +sighing of the wind was like the whistling of bullets. Some heard +invisible troops of horses gallop through the air, while others +found the prophecy of calamities in the howling of the wolves.</p> +<p>At the very beginning of danger the colonists exerted their +wonted energy. Volunteers from Massachusetts joined the troops from +Plymouth; and, within a week from the commencement of hostilities, +the insulated Pokanokets were driven from Mount Hope, and in less +than a month Philip was a fugitive among the Nipmucks, the interior +tribes of Massachusetts. The little army of the colonists then +entered the territory of the Narragansetts, and from the reluctant +tribe extorted a treaty of neutrality, with a promise to deliver up +every hostile Indian. Victory seemed promptly assured. But it was +only the commencement of horrors. Canonchet, the chief sachem of +the Narragansetts, was the son of Miantonomoh; and could he forget +his father's wrongs? Desolation extended along the whole frontier. +Banished from his patrimony, where the pilgrims found a friend, and +from his cabin, which had sheltered the exiles, Philip, with his +warriors, spread through the country, awakening their brethren to a +warfare of extermination.</p> +<p>The war, on the part of the Indians, was one of ambuscades and +surprises. They never once met the English in open field; but +always, even if eightfold in numbers, fled timorously before +infantry. They were secret as beasts of prey, skillful marksmen, +and in part provided with firearms, fleet of foot, conversant with +all the paths of the forest, patient of fatigue, and mad with a +passion for rapine, vengeance, and destruction, retreating into +swamps for their fastnesses, or hiding in the greenwood thickets, +where the leaves muffled the eyes of the pursuer. By the rapidity +of their descent, they seemed omnipresent among the scattered +villages, which they ravished like a passing storm; and for a full +year they kept all New England in a state of terror and excitement. +The exploring party was waylaid and cut off, and the mangled +carcasses and disjointed limbs of the dead were hung upon the +trees. The laborer in the field, the reapers as they sallied forth +to the harvest, men as they went to mill, the shepherd's boy among +the sheep, were shot down by skulking foes, whose approach was +invisible. Who can tell the heavy hours of woman? The mother, if +left alone in the house, feared the tomahawk for herself and +children; on the sudden attack, the husband would fly with one +child, the wife with another, and, perhaps, one only escape; the +village cavalcade, making its way to meeting on Sunday in files on +horseback, the farmer holding the bridle in one hand and a child in +the other, his wife seated on a pillion behind him, it may be with +a child in her lap, as was the fashion in those days, could not +proceed safely; but, at the moment when least expected, bullets +would whizz among them, sent from an unseen enemy by the wayside. +The forest that protected the ambush of the Indians secured their +retreat.</p> +<p class="loc">D. Appleton and Company, New York.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BANCROFT_4"></a> +<h3>THE NEW NETHERLAND</h3> +<center>From 'History of the United States'</center> +<p>During the absence of Stuyvesant from Manhattan, the warriors of +the neighboring Algonkin tribes, never reposing confidence in the +Dutch, made a desperate assault on the colony. In sixty-four canoes +they appeared before the town, and ravaged the adjacent country. +The return of the expedition restored confidence. The captives were +ransomed, and industry repaired its losses. The Dutch seemed to +have firmly established their power, and promised themselves +happier years. New Netherland consoled them for the loss of Brazil. +They exulted in the possession of an admirable territory, that +needed no embankments against the ocean. They were proud of its +vast extent,--from New England to Maryland, from the sea to the +Great River of Canada, and the remote Northwestern wilderness. They +sounded with exultation the channel of the deep stream, which was +no longer shared with the Swedes; they counted with delight its +many lovely runs of water, on which the beavers built their +villages; and the great travelers who had visited every continent, +as they ascended the Delaware, declared it one of the noblest +rivers in the world, with banks more inviting than the lands on the +Amazon.</p> +<p>Meantime, the country near the Hudson gained by increasing +emigration. Manhattan was already the chosen abode of merchants; +and the policy of the government invited them by its good-will. If +Stuyvesant sometimes displayed the rash despotism of a soldier, he +was sure to be reproved by his employers. Did he change the rate of +duties arbitrarily, the directors, sensitive to commercial honor, +charged him "to keep every contract inviolate." Did he tamper with +the currency by raising the nominal value of foreign coin, the +measure was rebuked as dishonest. Did he attempt to fix the price +of labor by arbitrary rules, this also was condemned as unwise and +impracticable. Did he interfere with the merchants by inspecting +their accounts, the deed was censured as without precedent "in +Christendom"; and he was ordered to "treat the merchants with +kindness, lest they return, and the country be depopulated." Did +his zeal for Calvinism lead him to persecute Lutherans, he was chid +for his bigotry. Did his hatred of "the abominable sect of Quakers" +imprison and afterward exile the blameless Bowne, "let every +peaceful citizen," wrote the directors, "enjoy freedom of +conscience; this maxim has made our city the asylum for fugitives +from every land; tread in its steps, and you shall be blessed."</p> +<p>Private worship was therefore allowed to every religion. +Opinion, if not yet enfranchised, was already tolerated. The people +of Palestine, from the destruction of their temple an outcast and a +wandering race, were allured by the traffic and the condition of +the New World; and not the Saxon and Celtic races only, the +children of the bondmen that broke from slavery in Egypt, the +posterity of those who had wandered in Arabia, and worshiped near +Calvary, found a home, liberty, and a burial place on the island of +Manhattan.</p> +<p>The emigrants from Holland were themselves of the most various +lineage; for Holland had long been the gathering-place of the +unfortunate. Could we trace the descent of the emigrants from the +Low Countries to New Netherland, we should be carried not only to +the banks of the Rhine and the borders of the German Sea, but to +the Protestants who escaped from France after the massacre of +Bartholomew's Eve, and to those earlier inquirers who were swayed +by the voice of Huss in the heart of Bohemia. New York was always a +city of the world. Its settlers were relics of the first fruits of +the Reformation, chosen from the Belgic provinces and England, from +France and Bohemia, from Germany and Switzerland, from Piedmont and +the Italian Alps.</p> +<p>The religious sects, which, in the middle ages, had been +fostered by the municipal liberties of the south of France, were +the harbingers of modern freedom, and had therefore been sacrificed +to the inexorable feudalism of the north. After a bloody conflict, +the plebeian reformers, crushed by the merciless leaders of the +military aristocracy, escaped to the highlands that divide France +and Italy. Preserving the discipline of a benevolent, ascetic +morality, with the simplicity of a spiritual worship,</p> +<blockquote>"When all our fathers worshiped stocks and +stones,"</blockquote> +<p>it was found, on the progress of the Reformation, that they had +by three centuries anticipated Luther and Calvin. The hurricane of +persecution, which was to have swept Protestantism from the earth, +did not spare their seclusion; mothers with infants were rolled +down the rocks, and the bones of martyrs scattered on the Alpine +mountains. The city of Amsterdam offered the fugitive Waldenses a +free passage to America, and a welcome was prepared in New +Netherland for the few who were willing to emigrate.</p> +<p>The persecuted of every creed and every clime were invited to +the colony. When the Protestant churches in Rochelle were razed, +the Calvinists of that city were gladly admitted; and the French +Protestants came in such numbers that the public documents were +sometimes issued in French as well as in Dutch and English. Troops +of orphans were shipped for the milder destinies of the New World; +a free passage was offered to mechanics; for "population was known +to be the bulwark of every State." The government of New Netherland +had formed just ideas of the fit materials for building a +commonwealth; they desired "farmers and laborers, foreigners and +exiles, men inured to toil and penury." The colony increased; +children swarmed in every village; the advent of the year and the +month of May were welcomed with noisy frolics; new modes of +activity were devised; lumber was shipped to France; the whale +pursued off the coast; the vine, the mulberry, planted; flocks of +sheep as well as cattle were multiplied; and tile, so long imported +from Holland, began to be manufactured near Fort Orange. New +Amsterdam could, in a few years, boast of stately buildings, and +almost vied with Boston. "This happily situated province," said its +inhabitants, "may become the granary of our fatherland; should our +Netherlands be wasted by grievous wars, it will offer our +countrymen a safe retreat; by God's blessing, we shall in a few +years become a mighty people."</p> +<p>Thus did various nations of the Caucasian race assist in +colonizing our central states.</p> +<p class="loc">D. Appleton and Company, New York.</p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="BANCROFT_5"></a> +<h3>FRANKLIN</h3> +<center>From 'History of the United States'</center> +<p>Franklin looked quietly and deeply into the secrets of nature. +His clear understanding was never perverted by passion, nor +corrupted by the pride of theory. The son of a rigid Calvinist, the +grandson of a tolerant Quaker, he had from boyhood been familiar +not only with theological subtilities, but with a catholic respect +for freedom of mind. Skeptical of tradition as the basis of faith, +he respected reason rather than authority; and, after a momentary +lapse into fatalism, he gained with increasing years an increasing +trust in the overruling providence of God. Adhering to none of all +the religions in the colonies, he yet devoutly, though without +form, adhered to religion. But though famous as a disputant, and +having a natural aptitude for metaphysics, he obeyed the tendency +of his age, and sought by observation to win an insight into the +mysteries of being. The best observers praise his method most. He +so sincerely loved truth, that in his pursuit of her she met him +half-way. Without prejudice and without bias, he discerned +intuitively the identity of the laws of nature with those of which +humanity is conscious; so that his mind was like a mirror, in which +the universe, as it reflected itself, revealed her laws. His +morality, repudiating ascetic severities and the system which +enjoins them, was indulgent to appetites of which he abhorred the +sway; but his affections were of a calm intensity: in all his +career, the love of man held the mastery over personal interest. He +had not the imagination which inspires the bard or kindles the +orator; but an exquisite propriety, parsimonious of ornament, gave +ease, correctness, and graceful simplicity even to his most +careless writings. In life, also, his tastes were delicate. +Indifferent to the pleasures of the table, he relished the delights +of music and harmony, of which he enlarged the instruments. His +blandness of temper, his modesty, the benignity of his manners, +made him the favorite of intelligent society; and, with healthy +cheerfulness, he derived pleasure from books, from philosophy, from +conversation,--now administering consolation to the sorrower, now +indulging in light-hearted gayety. In his intercourse, the +universality of his perceptions bore, perhaps, the character of +humor; but, while he clearly discerned the contrast between the +grandeur of the universe and the feebleness of man, a serene +benevolence saved him from contempt of his race or disgust at its +toils. To superficial observers, he might have seemed as an alien +from speculative truth, limiting himself to the world of the +senses; and yet, in study, and among men, his mind always sought to +discover and apply the general principles by which nature and +affairs are controlled,--now deducing from the theory of caloric +improvements in fireplaces and lanterns, and now advancing human +freedom by firm inductions from the inalienable rights of man. +Never professing enthusiasm, never making a parade of sentiment, +his practical wisdom was sometimes mistaken for the offspring of +selfish prudence; yet his hope was steadfast, like that hope which +rests on the Rock of Ages, and his conduct was as unerring as +though the light that led him was a light from heaven. He never +anticipated action by theories of self-sacrificing virtue; and yet, +in the moments of intense activity, he from the abodes of ideal +truth brought down and applied to the affairs of life the +principles of goodness, as unostentatiously as became the man who +with a kite and hempen string drew lightning from the skies. He +separated himself so little from his age that he has been called +the representative of materialism; and yet, when he thought on +religion, his mind passed beyond reliance on sects to faith in God; +when he wrote on politics, he founded freedom on principles that +know no change; when he turned an observing eye on nature, he +passed from the effect to the cause, from individual appearances to +universal laws; when he reflected on history, his philosophic mind +found gladness and repose in the clear anticipation of the progress +of humanity.</p> +<br> +<h3>End of Volume III.</h3> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Library Of The World's Best +Literature, Ancient And Modern, Vol 3, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIBRARY OF THE WORLD'S BEST *** + +***** This file should be named 13028-h.htm or 13028-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/2/13028/ + +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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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 3 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 26, 2004 [EBook #13028] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIBRARY OF THE WORLD'S BEST *** + + + + +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. III. + + + + +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. + +ALCEE 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. III + + LIVED +BERTHOLD AUERBACH--_Continued:_ 1812-1882 + The First False Step ('On the Heights') + The New Home and the Old One (same) + The Court Physician's Philosophy (same) + In Countess Irma's Diary (same) + +EMILE AUGIER 1820-1889 + A Conversation with a Purpose ('Giboyer's Boy') + A Severe Young Judge ('The Adventuress') + A Contented Idler ('M. Poirier's Son-in-Law') + Feelings of an Artist (same) + A Contest of Wills ('The Fourchambaults') + +ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO (by Samuel Hart) 354-430 + The Godly Sorrow that Worketh Repentance ('The Confessions') + Consolation (same) + The Foes of the City ('The City of God') + The Praise of God (same) + A Prayer ('The Trinity') + +MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS A.D. 121-180 + Reflections + +JANE AUSTEN 1775-1817 + An Offer of Marriage ('Pride and Prejudice') + Mother and Daughter (same) + A Letter of Condolence (same) + A Well-Matched Sister and Brother ('Northanger Abbey') + Family Doctors ('Emma') + Family Training ('Mansfield Park') + Private Theatricals (same) + Fruitless Regrets and Apples of Sodom (same) + +AVERROES 1126-1198 + +THE AVESTA (by A.V. Williams Jackson) + Psalm of Zoroaster + Prayer for Knowledge + The Angel of Divine Obedience + To the Fire + The Goddess of the Waters + Guardian Spirits + An Ancient Sindbad + The Wise Man + Invocation to Rain + Prayer for Healing + Fragment + +AVICEBRON 1028-?1058 + On Matter and Form ('The Fountain of Life') + +ROBERT AYTOUN 1570-1638 + Inconstancy Upbraided + Lines to an Inconstant Mistress (with Burns's Adaptation) + +WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN 1813-1865 + Burial March of Dundee ('Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers') + Execution of Montrose (same) + The Broken Pitcher ('Bon Gaultier Ballads') + Sonnet to Britain. "By the Duke of Wellington" (same) + A Ball in the Upper Circles ('The Modern Endymion') + A Highland Tramp ('Norman Sinclair') + +MASSIMO TAPARELLI D'AZEGLIO 1798-1866 + A Happy Childhood ('My Recollections') + The Priesthood (same) + My First Venture in Romance (same) + +BABER (by Edward S. Holden) 1482-1530 + From Baber's 'Memoirs' + +BABRIUS First Century A.D. + The North Wind and the Sun + Jupiter and the Monkey + The Mouse that Fell into the Pot + The Fox and the Grapes + The Carter and Hercules + The Young Cocks + The Arab and the Camel + The Nightingale and the Swallow + The Husbandman and the stork + The Pine + The Woman and Her Maid-Servants + The Lamp + The Tortoise and the Hare + +FRANCIS BACON (by Charlton T. Lewis) 1561-1626 + Of Truth ('Essays') + Of Revenge (same) + Of Simulation and Dissimulation (same) + Of Travel (same) + Of Friendship (same) + Defects of the Universities ('The Advancement of Learning') + To My Lord Treasurer Burghley + In Praise of Knowledge + To the Lord Chancellor + To Villiers on his Patent as a Viscount + Charge to Justice Hutton + A Prayer, or Psalm + From the 'Apophthegms' + Translation of the 137th Psalm + The World's a Bubble + +WALTER BAGEHOT (by Forrest Morgan) 1826-1877 + The Virtues of Stupidity ('Letters on the French Coup + d'Etat') + Review Writing ('The First Edinburgh Reviewers') + Lord Eldon (same) + Taste ('Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning') + Causes of the Sterility of Literature ('Shakespeare') + The Search for Happiness ('William Cowper') + On Early Reading ('Edward Gibbon') + The Cavaliers ('Thomas Babington Macaulay') + Morality and Fear ('Bishop Butler') + The Tyranny of Convention ('Sir Robert Peel') + How to Be an Influential Politician ('Bolingbroke') + Conditions of Cabinet Government ('The English Constitution') + Why Early Societies could not be Free ('Physics and + Politics') + Benefits of Free Discussion in Modern Times (same) + Origin of Deposit Banking ('Lombard Street') + +JENS BAGGESEN 1764-1826 + A Cosmopolitan ('The Labyrinth') + Philosophy on the Heath (same) + There was a Time when I was Very Little + + +PHILIP JAMES BAILEY 1816- + From "Festus": Life: The Passing-Bell; Thoughts; + Dreams; Chorus of the Saved + + +JOANNA BAILLIE 1762-1851 + Woo'd and Married and A' + It Was on a Morn when We were Thrang + Fy, Let Us A' to the Wedding + The Weary Pund o' Tow + From 'De Montfort' + To Mrs. Siddons + A Scotch Song + Song, 'Poverty Parts Good Company' + The Kitten + + +HENRY MARTYN BAIRD 1832- + The Battle of Ivry ('The Huguenots and Henry of Navarre') + + +SIR SAMUEL WHITE BAKER 1821-1893 + Hunting in Abyssinia ('The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia') + The Sources of the Nile ('The Albert Nyanza') + + +ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR 1848- + The Pleasures of Reading (Rectorial Address) + + +THE BALLAD (by F.B. Gummere) + Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne + The Hunting of the Cheviot + Johnie Cock + Sir Patrick Spens + The Bonny Earl of Murray + Mary Hamilton + Bonnie George Campbell + Bessie Bell and Mary Gray + The Three Ravens + Lord Randal + Edward + The Twa Brothers + Babylon + Childe Maurice + The Wife of Usher's Well + Sweet William's Ghost + + +HONORE DE BALZAC (by William P. Trent) 1799-1850 + The Meeting in the Convent ('The Duchess of Langeais') + An Episode Under the Terror + A Passion in the Desert + The Napoleon of the People ('The Country Doctor') + +GEORGE BANCROFT (by Austin Scott) 1800-1891 + The Beginnings of Virginia ('History of the United + States') + Men and Government in Early Massachusetts (same) + King Philip's War (same) + The New Netherland (same) + Franklin (same) + + + + +FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS + +VOLUME III. + + * * * * * + + PAGE +Ancient Irish Miniature (Colored Plate) Frontispiece +"St. Augustine and His Mother" (Photogravure) 1014 +Papyrus, Sermons of St. Augustine (Fac-simile) 1018 +Marcus Aurelius (Portrait) 1022 +The Zend Avesta (Fac-simile) 1084 +Francis Bacon (Portrait) 1156 +"The Cavaliers" (Photogravure) 1218 +Honore de Balzac (Portrait) 1348 +George Bancroft (Portrait) 1432 + + +VIGNETTE PORTRAITS + +Emile Augier +Jane Austen +Robert Aytoun +Walter Bagehot +Jens Baggesen +Philip James Bailey +Joanna Baillie +Henry Martyn Baird +Sir Samuel White Baker +Arthur James Balfour + + + + +(Continued from Volume II) + +"Do you imagine that every one is kindly disposed towards you? Take my +word for it, a palace contains people of all sorts, good and bad. All +the vices abound in such a place. And there are many other matters of +which you have no idea, and of which you will, I trust, ever remain +ignorant. But all you meet are wondrous polite. Try to remain just as +you now are, and when you leave the palace, let it be as the same +Walpurga you were when you came here." + +Walpurga stared at her in surprise. Who could change her? + +Word came that the Queen was awake and desired Walpurga to bring the +Crown Prince to her. + +Accompanied by Doctor Gunther, Mademoiselle Kramer, and two +waiting-women, she proceeded to the Queen's bedchamber. The Queen lay +there, calm and beautiful, and with a smile of greeting, turned her face +towards those who had entered. The curtains had been partially drawn +aside, and a broad, slanting ray of light shone into the apartment, +which seemed still more peaceful than during the breathless silence of +the previous night. + +"Good morning!" said the Queen, with a voice full of feeling. "Let me +have my child!" She looked down at the babe that rested in her arms, and +then, without noticing any one in the room, lifted her glance on high +and faintly murmured:-- + +"This is the first time I behold my child in the daylight!" + +All were silent; it seemed as if there was naught in the apartment +except the broad slanting ray of light that streamed in at the window. + +"Have you slept well?" inquired the Queen. Walpurga was glad the Queen +had asked a question, for now she could answer. Casting a hurried glance +at Mademoiselle Kramer, she said:-- + +"Yes, indeed! Sleep's the first, the last, and the best thing in the +world." + +"She's clever," said the Queen, addressing Doctor Gunther in French. + +Walpurga's heart sank within her. Whenever she heard them speak French, +she felt as if they were betraying her; as if they had put on an +invisible cap, like that worn by the goblins in the fairy-tale, and +could thus speak without being heard. + +"Did the Prince sleep well?" asked the Queen. + +Walpurga passed her hand over her face, as if to brush away a spider +that had been creeping there. The Queen doesn't speak of her "child" or +her "son," but only of "the Crown Prince." + +Walpurga answered:-- + +"Yes, quite well, thank God! That is, I couldn't hear him, and I only +wanted to say that I'd like to act towards the--" she could not say "the +Prince"--"that is, towards him, as I'd do with my own child. We began on +the very first day. My mother taught me that. Such a child has a will of +its own from the very start, and it won't do to give way to it. It won't +do to take it from the cradle, or to feed it, whenever it pleases; there +ought to be regular times for all those things. It'll soon get used to +that, and it won't harm it either, to let it cry once in a while. On the +contrary, that expands the chest." + +"Does he cry?" asked the Queen. + +The infant answered the question for itself, for it at once began to cry +most lustily. + +"Take him and quiet him," begged the Queen. + +The King entered the apartment before the child had stopped crying. + +"He will have a good voice of command," said he, kissing the Queen's +hand. + +Walpurga quieted the child, and she and Mademoiselle Kramer were sent +back to their apartments. + +The King informed the Queen of the dispatches that had been received, +and of the sponsors who had been decided upon. She was perfectly +satisfied with the arrangements that had been made. + +When Walpurga had returned to her room and had placed the child in the +cradle, she walked up and down and seemed quite agitated. + +"There are no angels in this world!" said she. "They're all just like +the rest of us, and who knows but--" She was vexed at the Queen: "Why +won't she listen patiently when her child cries? We must take all our +children bring us, whether it be joy or pain." + +She stepped out into the passage-way and heard the tones of the organ in +the palace-chapel. For the first time in her life these sounds +displeased her. "It don't belong in the house," thought she, "where all +sorts of things are going on. The church ought to stand by itself." + +When she returned to the room, she found a stranger there. Mademoiselle +Kramer informed her that this was the tailor to the Queen. + +Walpurga laughed outright at the notion of a "tailor to the Queen." The +elegantly attired person looked at her in amazement, while Mademoiselle +Kramer explained to her that this was the dressmaker to her Majesty the +Queen, and that he had come to take her measure for three new dresses. + +"Am I to wear city clothes?" + +"God forbid! You're to wear the dress of your neighborhood, and can +order a stomacher in red, blue, green, or any color that you like best." + +"I hardly know what to say; but I'd like to have a workday suit too. +Sunday clothes on week-days--that won't do." + +"At court one always wears Sunday clothes, and when her Majesty drives +out again you will have to accompany her." + +"A11 right, then. I won't object." + +While he took her measure, Walpurga laughed incessantly, and he was at +last obliged to ask her to hold still, so that he might go on with his +work. Putting his measure into his pocket, he informed Mademoiselle +Kramer that he had ordered an exact model, and that the master of +ceremonies had favored him with several drawings, so that there might be +no doubt of success. + +Finally he asked permission to see the Crown Prince. Mademoiselle Kramer +was about to let him do so, but Walpurga objected. + +"Before the child is christened," said she, "no one shall look at it +just out of curiosity, and least of all a tailor, or else the child will +never turn out the right sort of man." + +The tailor took his leave, Mademoiselle Kramer having politely hinted to +him that nothing could be done with the superstition of the lower +orders, and that it would not do to irritate the nurse. + +This occurrence induced Walpurga to administer the first serious +reprimand to Mademoiselle Kramer. She could not understand why she was +so willing to make an exhibition of the child. "Nothing does a child +more harm than to let strangers look at it in its sleep, and a tailor +at that." + +All the wild fun with which, in popular songs, tailors are held up to +scorn and ridicule, found vent in Walpurga, and she began singing:-- + + "Just list, ye braves, who love to roam! + A snail was chasing a tailor home. + And if Old Shears hadn't run so fast, + The snail would surely have caught him at last." + +Mademoiselle Kramer's acquaintance with the court tailor had lowered +her in Walpurga's esteem; and with an evident effort to mollify the +latter, Mademoiselle Kramer asked:-- + +"Does the idea of your new and beautiful clothes really afford you no +pleasure?" + +"To be frank with you, no! I don't wear them for my own sake, but for +that of others, who dress me to please themselves. It's all the same to +me, however! I've given myself up to them, and suppose I must submit." + +"May I come in?" asked a pleasant voice. Countess Irma entered the room. +Extending both her hands to Walpurga, she said:-- + +"God greet you, my countrywoman! I am also from the Highlands, seven +hours distance from your village. I know it well, and once sailed over +the lake with your father. Does he still live?" + +"Alas! no: he was drowned, and the lake hasn't given up its dead." + +"He was a fine-looking old man, and you are the very image of him." + +"I am glad to find some one else here who knew my father. The court +tailor--I mean the court doctor--knew him too. Yes, search the land +through, you couldn't have found a better man than my father, and no one +can help but admit it." + +"Yes: I've often heard as much." + +"May I ask your Ladyship's name?" + +"Countess Wildenort." + +"Wildenort? I've heard the name before. Yes, I remember my mother's +mentioning it. Your father was known as a very kind and benevolent man. +Has he been dead a long while?" + +"No, he is still living." + +"Is he here too?" + +"No." + +"And as what are you here, Countess?" + +"As maid of honor." + +"And what is that?" + +"Being attached to the Queen's person; or what, in your part of the +country, would be called a companion." + +"Indeed! And is your father willing to let them use you that way?" + +Irma, who was somewhat annoyed by her questions, said:-- + +"I wished to ask you something--Can you write?" + +"I once could, but I've quite forgotten how." + +"Then I've just hit it! that's the very reason for my coming here. Now, +whenever you wish to write home, you can dictate your letter to me, and +I will write whatever you tell me to." + +"I could have done that too," suggested Mademoiselle Kramer, timidly; +"and your Ladyship would not have needed to trouble yourself." + +"No, the Countess will write for me. Shall it be now?" + +"Certainly." + +But Walpurga had to go to the child. While she was in the next room, +Countess Irma and Mademoiselle Kramer engaged each other in +conversation. + +When Walpurga returned, she found Irma, pen in hand, and at once began +to dictate. + +Translation of S.A. Stern. + + +THE FIRST FALSE STEP + +From 'On the Heights' + +The ball was to be given in the palace and the adjoining winter garden. +The intendant now informed Irma of his plan, and was delighted to find +that she approved of it. At the end of the garden he intended to erect a +large fountain, ornamented with antique groups. In the foreground he +meant to have trees and shrubbery and various kinds of rocks, so that +none could approach too closely; and the background was to be a Grecian +landscape, painted in the grand style. + +Irma promised to keep his secret. Suddenly she exclaimed, "We are all of +us no better than lackeys and kitchen-maids. We are kept busy stewing, +roasting, and cooking for weeks, in order to prepare a dish that may +please their Majesties." + +The intendant made no reply. + +"Do you remember," continued Irma, "how, when we were at the lake, we +spoke of the fact that man possessed the advantage of being able to +change his dress, and thus to alter his appearance? While yet a child, +masquerading was my greatest delight. The soul wings its flight in +callow infancy. A _bal costume_ is indeed one of the noblest fruits of +culture. The love of coquetry which is innate with all of us displays +itself there undisguised." + +The intendant took his leave. While walking away, his mind was filled +with his old thoughts about Irma. + +"No," said he to himself, "such a woman would be a constant strain, and +would require one to be brilliant and intellectual all day long. She +would exhaust one," said he, almost aloud. + +No one knew what character Irma intended to appear in, although many +supposed that it would be as "Victory," since it was well known that she +had stood for the model of the statue that surmounted the arsenal. They +were busy conjecturing how she could assume that character without +violating the social proprieties. + +Irma spent much of her time in the atelier, and worked assiduously. She +was unable to escape a feeling of unrest, far greater than that she had +experienced years ago when looking forward to her first ball. She could +not reconcile herself to the idea of preparing for the _fete_ so long +beforehand, and would like to have had it take place in the very next +hour, so that something else might be taken up at once. The long delay +tried her patience. She almost envied those beings to whom the +preparation for pleasure affords the greatest part of the enjoyment. +Work alone calmed her unrest. She had something to do, and this +prevented the thoughts of the festival from engaging her mind during the +day. It was only in the evening that she would recompense herself for +the day's work, by giving full swing to her fancy. + +The statue of Victory was still in the atelier and was almost finished. +High ladders were placed beside it. The artist was still chiseling at +the figure, and would now and then hurry down to observe the general +effect, and then hastily mount the ladder again in order to add a touch +here or there. Irma scarcely ventured to look up at this effigy of +herself in Grecian costume--transformed and yet herself. The idea of +being thus translated into the purest of art's forms filled her with a +tremor, half joy, half fear. + +It was on a winter afternoon. Irma was working assiduously at a copy of +a bust of Theseus, for it was growing dark. Near her stood her +preceptor's marble bust of Doctor Gunther. All was silent; not a sound +was heard save now and then the picking or scratching of the chisel. + +At that moment the master descended the ladder, and drawing a deep +breath, said:-- + +"There--that will do. One can never finish. I shall not put another +stroke to it. I am afraid that retouching would only injure it. It +is done." + +In the master's words and manner, struggling effort and calm content +seemed mingled. He laid the chisel aside. Irma looked at him earnestly +and said:-- + +"You are a happy man; but I can imagine that you are still unsatisfied. +I don't believe that even Raphael or Michael Angelo was ever satisfied +with the work he had completed. The remnant of dissatisfaction which an +artist feels at the completion of a work is the germ of a new creation." + +The master nodded his approval of her words. His eyes expressed his +thanks. He went to the water-tap and washed his hands. Then he placed +himself near Irma and looked at her, while telling her that in every +work an artist parts with a portion of his life; that the figure will +never again inspire the same feelings that it did while in the workshop. +Viewed from afar, and serving as an ornament, no regard would be had to +the care bestowed upon details. But the artist's great satisfaction in +his work is in having pleased himself; and yet no one can accurately +determine how, or to what extent, a conscientious working up of details +will influence the general effect. + +While the master was speaking, the King was announced. Irma hurriedly +spread a damp cloth over her clay model. + +The King entered. He was unattended, and begged Irma not to allow +herself to be disturbed in her work. Without looking up, she went on +with her modeling. The King was earnest in his praise of the +master's work. + +"The grandeur that dwells in this figure will show posterity what our +days have beheld. I am proud of such contemporaries." + +Irma felt that the words applied to her as well. Her heart throbbed. The +plaster which stood before her suddenly seemed to gaze at her with a +strange expression. + +"I should like to compare the finished work with the first models," said +the king to the artist. + +"I regret that the experimental models are in my small atelier. Does +your Majesty wish me to have them brought here?" + +"If you will be good enough to do so." + +The master left. The King and Irma were alone. With rapid steps the King +mounted the ladder, and exclaimed in a tremulous voice:-- + +"I ascend into heaven--I ascend to you. Irma, I kiss you, I kiss your +image, and may this kiss forever rest upon those lips, enduring beyond +all time. I kiss thee with the kiss of eternity." He stood aloft and +kissed the lips of the statue. Irma could not help looking up, and just +at that moment a slanting sunbeam fell on the King and on the face of +the marble figure, making it glow as if with life. + +Irma felt as if wrapped in a fiery cloud, bearing her away into +eternity. + +The King descended and placed himself beside her. His breathing was +short and quick. She did not dare to look up; she stood as silent and as +immovable as a statue. Then the King embraced her--and living lips +kissed each other. + +Translation of S.A. Stern. + + +THE NEW HOME AND THE OLD ONE + +From 'On the Heights' + +Hansei received various offers for his cottage, and was always provoked +when it was spoken of as a 'tumble-down old shanty.' He always looked as +if he meant to say, "Don't take it ill of me, good old house: the people +only abuse you so that they may get you cheap." Hansei stood his ground. +He would not sell his home for a penny less than it was worth; and +besides that, he owned the fishing-right, which was also worth +something. Grubersepp at last took the house off his hands, with the +design of putting a servant of his, who intended to marry in the fall, +in possession of the place. + +All the villagers were kind and friendly to them,--doubly so since they +were about to leave,--and Hansei said:-- + +"It hurts me to think that I must leave a single enemy behind me, I'd +like to make it up with the innkeeper." + +Walpurga agreed with him, and said that she would go along; that she had +really been the cause of the trouble, and that if the innkeeper wanted +to scold any one, he might as well scold her too. + +Hansei did not want his wife to go along, but she insisted upon it. + +It was in the last evening in August that they went up into the village. +Their hearts beat violently while they drew near to the inn. There was +no light in the room. They groped about the porch, but not a soul was to +be seen. Dachsel and Wachsel, however, were making a heathenish racket. +Hansei called out: + +"Is there no one at home?" + +"No. There's no one at home," answered a voice from the dark room. + +"Well, then tell the host, when he returns, that Hansei and his wife +were here, and that they came to ask him to forgive them if they've done +him any wrong; and to say that they forgive him too, and wish him luck." + +"A11 right: I'll tell him," said the voice. The door was again slammed +to, and Dachsel and Wachsel began barking again. + +Hansei and Walpurga returned homeward. + +"Do you know who that was?" asked Hansei. + +"Why, yes: 'twas the innkeeper himself." + +"Well, we've done all we could." + +They found it sad to part from all the villagers. They listened to the +lovely tones of the bell which they had heard every hour since +childhood. Although their hearts were full, they did not say a word +about the sadness of parting. Hansei at last broke silence:--"Our new +home isn't out of the world: we can often come here." + +When they reached the cottage they found that nearly all of the +villagers had assembled in order to bid them farewell, but every one +added, "I'll see you again in the morning." + +Grubersepp also came again. He had been proud enough before; but now he +was doubly so, for he had made a man of his neighbor, or at all events +had helped to do so. He did not give way to tender sentiment. He +condensed all his knowledge of life into a few sentences, which he +delivered himself of most bluntly. + +"I only want to tell you," said he, "you'll have lots of servants now. +Take my word for it, the best of them are good for nothing; but +something may be made of them for all that. He who would have his +servants mow well, must take the scythe in hand himself. And since you +got your riches so quickly, don't forget the proverb: 'Light come, light +go.' Keep steady, or it'll go ill with you." + +He gave him much more good advice, and Hansei accompanied him all the +way back to his house. With a silent pressure of the hand they took +leave of each other. + +The house seemed empty, for quite a number of chests and boxes had been +sent in advance by a boat that was already crossing the lake. On the +following morning two teams would be in waiting on the other side. + +"So this is the last time that we go to bed in this house," said the +mother. They were all fatigued with work and excitement, and yet none of +them cared to go to bed. At last, however, they could not help doing so, +although they slept but little. + +The next morning they were up and about at an early hour. Having attired +themselves in their best clothes, they bundled up the beds and carried +them into the boat. The mother kindled the last fire on the hearth. The +cows were led out and put into the boat, the chickens were also taken +along in a coop, and the dog was constantly running to and fro. + +The hour of parting had come. + +The mother uttered a prayer, and then called all of them into the +kitchen. She scooped up some water from the pail and poured it into the +fire, with these words:--"May all that's evil be thus poured out and +extinguished, and let those who light a fire after us find nothing but +health in their home." + +Hansei, Walpurga, and Gundel were each of them obliged to pour a +ladleful of water into the fire, and the grandmother guided the child's +hand while it did the same thing. + +After they had all silently performed this ceremony, the grandmother +prayed aloud:-- + +"Take from us, O Lord our God, all heartache and home-sickness and all +trouble, and grant us health and a happy home where we next kindle +our fire." + +She was the first to cross the threshold. She had the child in her arms +and covered its eyes with her hands while she called out to +the others:-- + +"Don't look back when you go out." + +"Just wait a moment," said Hansei to Walpurga when he found himself +alone with her. "Before we cross this threshold for the last time, I've +something to tell you. I must tell it. I mean to be a righteous man and +to keep nothing concealed from you. I must tell you this, Walpurga. +While you were away and Black Esther lived up yonder, I once came very +near being wicked--and unfaithful--thank God, I wasn't. But it torments +me to think that I ever wanted to be bad; and now, Walpurga, forgive me +and God will forgive me, too. Now I've told you, and have nothing more +to tell. If I were to appear before God this moment, I'd know of +nothing more." + +Walpurga embraced him, and sobbing, said, "You're my dear good husband!" +and they crossed the threshold for the last time. + +When they reached the garden, Hansei paused, looked up at the +cherry-tree, and said:-- + +"And so you remain here. Won't you come with us? We've always been good +friends, and spent many an hour together. But wait! I'll take you with +me, after all," cried he, joyfully, "and I'll plant you in my new home." + +He carefully dug out a shoot that was sprouting up from one of the roots +of the tree. He stuck it in his hat-band, and went to join his wife +at the boat. + +From the landing-place on the bank were heard the merry sounds of +fiddles, clarinets, and trumpets. + +Hansei hastened to the landing-place. The whole village had congregated +there, and with it the full band of music. Tailor Schneck's son, he who +had been one of, the cuirassiers at the christening of the crown prince, +had arranged and was now conducting the parting ceremonies. Schneck, who +was scraping his bass-viol, was the first to see Hansei, and called out +in the midst of the music:-- + +"Long live farmer Hansei and the one he loves best! Hip, hip, hurrah!" + +The early dawn resounded with their cheers. There was a flourish of +trumpets, and the salutes fired from several small mortars were echoed +back from the mountains. The large boat in which their household +furniture, the two cows, and the fowls were placed, was adorned with +wreaths of fir and oak. Walpurga was standing in the middle of the boat, +and with both hands held the child aloft, so that it might see the great +crowd of friends and the lake sparkling in the rosy dawn. + +"My master's best respects," said one of Grubersepp's servants, leading +a snow-white colt by the halter: "he sends you this to remember him by." + +Grubersepp was not present. He disliked noise and crowds. He was of a +solitary and self-contained temperament. Nevertheless he sent a present +which was not only of intrinsic value, but was also a most flattering +souvenir; for a colt is usually given by a rich farmer to a younger +brother when about to depart. In the eyes of all the world--that is to +say, the whole village--Hansei appeared as the younger brother of +Grubersepp. + +Little Burgei shouted for joy when she saw them leading the snow-white +foal into the boat. Gruberwaldl, who was but six years old, stood by the +whinnying colt, stroking it and speaking kindly to it. + +"Would you like to go to the farm with me and be my servant?" asked +Hansei of Gruberwaldl. + +"Yes, indeed, if you'll take me." + +"See what a boy he is," said Hansei to his wife. "What a boy!" + +Walpurga made no answer, but busied herself with the child. + +Hansei shook hands with every one at parting. His hand trembled, but he +did not forget to give a couple of crown thalers to the musicians. + +At last he got into the boat and exclaimed:-- + +"Kind friends! I thank you all. Don't forget us, and we shan't forget +you. Farewell! may God protect you all." + +Walpurga and her mother were in tears. + +"And now, in God's name, let us start!" The chains were loosened; the +boat put off. Music, shouting, singing, and the firing of cannon +resounded while the boat quietly moved away from the shore. The sun +burst forth in all his glory. + +The mother sat there, with her hands clasped. All were silent. The only +sound heard was the neighing of the foal. + +Walpurga was the first to break the silence. "O dear Lord! if people +would only show each other half as much love during life as they do when +one dies or moves away." + +The grandmother, who was in the middle of a prayer, shook her head. She +quickly finished her prayer and said:-- + +"That's more than one has the right to ask. It won't do to go about all +day long with your heart in your hand. But remember, I've always told +you that the people are good enough at heart, even if there are a few +bad ones among them." + +Hansei bestowed an admiring glance upon his wife, who had so many +different thoughts about almost everything. He supposed it was caused by +her having been away from home. But his heart was full, too, although in +a different way. + +"I can hardly realize," said Hansei, taking a long breath and putting +the pipe, which he had intended to light, back into his pocket, "what +has become of all the years that I spent there and all that I went +through during the time. Look, Walpurga! the road you see there leads to +my home. I know every hill and every hollow. My mother's buried there. +Do you see the pines growing on the hill over yonder? That hill was +quite bare; every tree was cut down when the French were here; and see +how fine and hardy the trees are now. I planted most of them myself. I +was a little boy about eleven or twelve years old when the forester +hired me. He had fresh soil brought for the whole place and covered the +rocky spots with moss. In the spring I worked from six in the morning +till seven in the evening, putting in the little plants. My left hand +was almost frozen, for I had to keep putting it into a tub of wet loam, +with which I covered the roots. I was scantily clothed into the bargain, +and had nothing to eat all day long but a piece of bread. In the morning +it was cold enough to freeze the marrow in one's bones, and at noon I +was almost roasted by the hot sun beating on the rocks. It was a hard +life. Yes, I had a hard time of it when I was young. Thank God, it +hasn't harmed me any. But I shan't forget it; and let's be right +industrious and give all we can to the poor. I never would have believed +that I'd live to call a single tree or a handful of earth my own; and +now that God has given me so much, let's try and deserve it all." + +Hansei's eyes blinked, as if there was something in them, and he pulled +his hat down over his forehead. Now, while he was pulling himself up by +the roots as it were, he could not help thinking of how thoroughly he +had become engrafted into the neighborhood by the work of his hands and +by habit. He had felled many a tree, but he knew full well how hard it +was to remove the stumps. + +The foal grew restive. Gruberwaldl, who had come with them in order to +hold it, was not strong enough, and one of the boatmen was obliged to go +to his assistance. + +"Stay with the foal," said Hansei. "I'll take the oar." + +"And I too," cried Walpurga. "Who knows when I'll have another chance? +Ah! how often I've rowed on the lake with you and my blessed father." + +Hansei and Walpurga sat side by side plying their oars in perfect time. +It did them both good to have some employment which would enable them to +work off the excitement. + +"I shall miss the water," said Walpurga; "without the lake, life'll seem +so dull and dry. I felt that, while I was in the city." + +Hansei did not answer. + +"At the summer palace there's a pond with swans swimming about in it," +said she, but still received no answer. She looked around, and a +feeling of anger arose within her. When she said anything at the palace, +it was always listened to. + +In a sorrowful tone she added, "It would have been better if we'd moved +in the spring; it would have been much easier to get used to things." + +"Maybe it would," replied Hansei, at last, "but I've got to hew wood in +the winter. Walpurga, let's make life pleasant to each other, and not +sad. I shall have enough on my shoulders, and can't have you and your +palace thoughts besides." + +Walpurga quickly answered, "I'll throw this ring, which the Queen gave +me, into the lake, to prove that I've stopped thinking of the palace." + +"There's no need of that. The ring's worth a nice sum, and besides that +it's an honorable keepsake. You must do just as I do." + +"Yes; only remain strong and true." + +The grandmother suddenly stood up before them. Her features were +illumined with a strange expression, and she said:-- + +"Children! Hold fast to the good fortune that you have. You've gone +through fire and water together; for it was fire when you were +surrounded by joy and love and every one greeted you with kindness--and +you passed through the water, when the wickedness of others stung you to +the soul. At that time the water was up to your neck, and yet you +weren't drowned. Now you've got over it all. And when my last hour +comes, don't weep for me; for through you I've enjoyed all the happiness +a mother's heart can have in this world." + +She knelt down, scooped up some water with her hand, and sprinkled it +over Hansei's and also over Walpurga's face. + +They rowed on in silence. The grandmother laid her head on a roll of +bedding and closed her eyes. Her face wore a strange expression. After a +while she opened her eyes again, and casting a glance full of happiness +on her children, she said: + +"Sing and be merry. Sing the song that father and I so often sang +together; that one verse, the good one." + +Hansei and Walpurga plied the oars while they sang:-- + + "Ah, blissful is the tender tie + That binds me, love, to thee; + And swiftly speed the hours by, + When thou art near to me." + +They repeated the verse again, although at times the joyous shouting of +the child and the neighing of the foal bade fair to interrupt it. + + * * * * * + +As they drew near the house, they could hear the neighing of the white +foal. + +"That's a good beginning," cried Hansei. + +The grandmother placed the child on the ground, and got her hymn-book +out of the chest. Pressing the book against her breast with both hands, +she went into the house, being the first to enter. Hansei, who was +standing near the stable, took a piece of chalk from his pocket and +wrote the letters C.M.B., and the date, on the stable door. Then he too +went into the house,--his wife, Irma, and the child following him. + +Before going into the sitting-room the grandmother knocked thrice at the +door. When she had entered she placed the open hymn-book upon the open +window-sill, so that the sun might read in it. There were no tables or +chairs in the room. + +Hansei shook hands with his wife and said, "God be with you, +freeholder's wife." + +From that moment Walpurga was known as the "freeholder's wife," and was +never called by any other name. + +And now they showed Irma her room. The view extended over meadow and +brook and the neighboring forest. She examined the room. There was +naught but a green Dutch oven and bare walls, and she had brought +nothing with her. In her paternal mansion, and at the castle, there were +chairs and tables, horses and carriages; but here--None of these +follow the dead. + +Irma knelt by the window and gazed out over meadow and forest, where the +sun was now shining. + +How was it yesterday--was it only yesterday when you saw the sun go +down? + +Her thoughts were confused and indistinct. She pressed her hand to her +forehead; the white handkerchief was still there. A bird looked up to +her from the meadow, and when her glance rested upon it it flew away +into the woods. + +"The bird has its nest," said she to herself, "and I--" + +Suddenly she drew herself up. Hansei had walked out to the grass plot in +front of Irma's window, removed the slip of the cherry-tree from his +hat, and planted it in the ground. + +The grandmother stood by and said, "I trust that you'll be alive and +hearty long enough to climb this tree and gather cherries from it, and +that your children and grandchildren may do the same." + +There was much to do and to set to rights in the house, and on such +occasions it usually happens that those who are dearest to one another +are as much in each other's way as closets and tables which have not yet +been placed where they belong. The best proof of the amiability of these +folks was that they assisted each other cheerfully, and indeed with +jest and song. + +Walpurga moved her best furniture into Irma's room. Hansei did not +interpose a word. "Aren't you too lonely here?" asked Walpurga, after +she had arranged everything as well as possible in so short a time. + +"Not at all. There is no place in all the world lonely enough for me. +You've so much to do now; don't worry about me. I must now arrange +things within myself. I see how good you and yours are; fate has +directed me kindly." + +"Oh, don't talk in that way. If you hadn't given me the money, how could +we have bought the farm? This is really your own." + +"Don't speak of that," said Irma, with a sudden start. "Never mention +that money to me again." + +Walpurga promised, and merely added that Irma needn't be alarmed at the +old man who lived in the room above hers, and who at times would talk to +himself and make a loud noise. He was old and blind. The children teased +and worried him, but he wasn't bad and would harm no one. Walpurga +offered at all events to leave Gundel with Irma for the first night; but +Irma preferred to be alone. + +"You'll stay with us, won't you?" said Walpurga hesitatingly. "You won't +have such bad thoughts again?" + +"No, never. But don't talk now: my voice pains me, and so does yours +too. Good-night! leave me alone." + +Irma sat by the window and gazed out into the dark night. Was it only a +day since she had passed through such terrors? Suddenly she sprang from +her seat with a shudder. She had seen Black Esther's head rising out of +the darkness, had again heard her dying shriek, had beheld the distorted +face and the wild black tresses.--Her hair stood on end. Her thoughts +carried her to the bottom of the lake, where she now lay dead. She +opened the window and inhaled the soft, balmy air. She sat by the open +casement for a long while, and suddenly heard some one laughing in the +room above her. + +"Ha! ha! I won't do you the favor! I won't die! I won't die! Pooh, pooh! +I'll live till I'm a hundred years old, and then I'll get a new lease +of life." + +It was the old pensioner. After a while he continued:-- + +"I'm not so stupid; I know that it's night now, and the freeholder and +his wife are come. I'll give them lots of trouble. I'm Jochem. Jochem's +my name, and what the people don't like, I do for spite. Ha! ha! I don't +use any light, and they must make me an allowance for that. I'll insist +on it, if I have to go to the King himself about it." + +Irma started when she heard the King mentioned. + +"Yes, I'll go to the King, to the King! to the King!" cried the old man +overhead, as if he knew that the word tortured Irma. + +She heard him close the window and move a chair. The old man went to +bed. + +Irma looked out into the dark night. Not a star was to be seen. There +was no light anywhere; nothing was heard but the roaring of the mountain +stream and the rustling of the trees. The night seemed like a +dark abyss. + +"Are you still awake?" asked a soft voice without. It was the +grandmother. + +"I was once a servant at this farm," said she. "That was forty years +ago; and now I'm the mother of the freeholder's wife, and almost the +head one on the farm. But I keep thinking of you all the time. I keep +trying to think how it is in your heart. I've something to tell you. +Come out again. I'll take you where it'll do you good to be. Come!" + +Irma went out into the dark night with the old woman. How different this +guide from the one she had had the day before! + +The old woman led her to the fountain. She had brought a cup with her +and gave it to Irma. "Come, drink; good cold water's the best. Water +comforts the body; it cools and quiets us; it's like bathing one's soul. +I know what sorrow is too. One's insides burn as if they were afire." + +Irma drank some of the water of the mountain spring. It seemed like a +healing dew, whose influence was diffused through her whole frame. + +The grandmother led her back to her room and said, "You've still got +the shirt on that you wore at the palace. You'll never stop thinking of +that place till you've burned that shirt." + +The old woman would listen to no denial, and Irma was as docile as a +little child. The grandmother hurried to get a coarse shirt for her, and +after Irma had put it on, brought wood and a light and burnt the other +at the open fire. Irma was also obliged to cut off her long nails and +throw them into the fire. Then Beate disappeared for a few moments, and +returned with Irma's riding-habit. "You must have been shot; for there +are balls in this," said she, spreading out the long blue habit. + +A smile passed over Irma's face, as she felt the balls that had been +sewed into the lower part of the habit, so that it might hang more +gracefully. Beate had also brought something very useful,--a deerskin. +"Hansei sends you this," said she. "He thinks that maybe you're used to +having something soft for your feet to rest on. He shot the +deer himself." + +Irma appreciated the kindness of the man who could show such affection +to one who was both a stranger and a mystery to him. + +The grandmother remained at Irma's bedside until she fell asleep. Then +she breathed thrice on the sleeper and left the room. + +It was late at night when Irma awoke. + +"To the King! to the King! to the King!" The words had been uttered +thrice in a loud voice. Was it hers, or that of the man overhead? Irma +pressed her hand to her forehead and felt the bandage. Was it sea-grass +that had gathered there? Was she lying alive at the bottom of the lake? +Gradually all that had happened became clear to her. + +Alone, in the dark and silent night, she wept. And these were the first +tears she had shed since the terrible events through which she +had passed. + +It was evening when Irma awoke. She put her hand to her forehead. A wet +cloth had been bound round it. She had been sleeping nearly twenty-four +hours. The grandmother was sitting by her bed. + +"You've a strong constitution," said the old woman, "and that helped +you. It's all right now." + +Irma arose. She felt strong, and guided by the grandmother, walked over +to the dwelling-house. + +"God be praised that you're well again," said Walpurga, who was +standing there with her husband; and Hansei added, "yes, that's right." + +Irma thanked them, and looked up at the gable of the house. What words +there met her eye? + +"Don't you think the house has a good motto written on its forehead?" +asked Hansei. + +Irma started. On the gable of the house she read the following +inscription:-- + +EAT AND DRINK: FORGET NOT GOD: THINE HONOR GUARD: + OF ALL THY STORE, + THOU'LT CARRY HENCE + A WINDING-SHEET + AND NOTHING MORE. + +Translation of S.A. Stern. + + +THE COURT PHYSICIAN'S PHILOSOPHY + +From 'On the Heights' + +Gunther continued, "I am only a physician, who has held many a hand hot +with fever or stiff in death in his own. The healing art might serve as +an illustration. We help all who need our help, and do not stop to ask +who they are, whence they come, or whether when restored to health they +persist in their evil courses. Our actions are incomplete, fragmentary; +thought alone is complete and all-embracing. Our deeds and ourselves are +but fragments--the whole is God." + +"I think I grasp your meaning [replied the Queen]. But our life, as you +say, is indeed a mere fraction of life as a whole; and how is each one +to bear up under the portion of suffering that falls to his individual +lot? Can one--I mean it in its best sense--always be outside of +one's self?" + +"I am well aware, your Majesty, that passions and emotions cannot be +regulated by ideas; for they grow in a different soil, or, to express +myself correctly, move in entirely different spheres. It is but a few +days since I closed the eyes of my old friend Eberhard. Even he never +fully succeeded in subordinating his temperament to his philosophy; but +in his dying hour he rose beyond the terrible grief that broke his +heart--grief for his child. He summoned the thoughts of better hours to +his aid,--hours when his perception of the truth had been undimmed by +sorrow or passion,--and he died a noble, peaceful death. Your Majesty +must still live and labor, elevating yourself and others, at one and the +same time. Permit me to remind you of the moment when, seated under the +weeping ash, your heart was filled with pity for the poor child that +from the time it enters into the world is doubly helpless. Do you still +remember how you refused to rob it of its mother? I appeal to the pure +and genuine impulse of that moment. You were noble and forgiving then, +because you had not yet suffered. You cast no stone at the fallen; you +loved, and therefore you forgave." + +"O God!" cried the Queen, "and what has happened to me? The woman on +whose bosom my child rested is the most abandoned of creatures. I loved +her just as if she belonged to another world--a world of innocence. And +now I am satisfied that she was the go-between, and that her naivete was +a mere mask concealing an unparalleled hypocrite. I imagined that truth +and purity still dwelt in the simple rustic world--but everything is +perverted and corrupt. The world of simplicity is base; aye, far worse +than that of corruption!" + +"I am not arguing about individuals. I think you mistaken in regard to +Walpurga; but admitting that you are right, of this at least we can be +sure: morality does not depend upon so-called education or ignorance, +belief or unbelief. The heart and mind which have regained purity and +steadfastness alone possess true knowledge. Extend your view beyond +details and take in the whole--that alone can comfort and +reconcile you." + +"I see where you are, but I cannot get up there. I can't always be +looking through your telescope that shows naught but blue sky. I am too +weak. I know what you mean; you say in effect, 'Rise above these few +people, above this span of space known as a kingdom: compared with the +universe, they are but as so many blades of grass or a mere clod +of earth.'" + +Gunther nodded a pleased assent: but the Queen, in a sad voice, added:-- + +"Yes, but this space and these people constitute my world. Is purity +merely imaginary? If it be not about us, where can it be found?" + +"Within ourselves," replied Gunther. "If it dwell within us, it is +everywhere; if not, it is nowhere. He who asks for more has not yet +passed the threshold. His heart is not yet what it should be. True love +for the things of this earth, and for God, the final cause of all, does +not ask for love in return. We love the divine spark that dwells in +creatures themselves unconscious of it: creatures who are wretched, +debased, and as the church has it, unredeemed. My Master taught me that +the purest joys arise from this love of God or of eternally pure nature. +I made this truth my own, and you can and ought to do likewise. This +park is yours; but the birds that dwell in it, the air, the light, its +beauty, are not yours alone, but are shared with you by all. So long as +the world is ours, in the vulgar sense of the word, we may love it; but +when we have made it our own, in a purer and better sense, no one can +take it from us. The great thing is to be strong and to know that hatred +is death, that love alone is life, and that the amount of love that we +possess is the measure of the life and the divinity that dwells +within us." + +Gunther rose and was about to withdraw. He feared lest excessive thought +might over-agitate the Queen, who, however, motioned him to remain. He +sat down again. + +"You cannot imagine--" said the Queen after a long pause, "--but that is +one of the cant phrases that we have learned by heart. I mean just the +reverse of what I have said. You can imagine the change that your words +have effected in me." + +"I can conceive it." + +"Let me ask a few more questions. I believe--nay, I am sure--that on the +height you occupy, and toward which you would fain lead me, there dwells +eternal peace. But it seems so cold and lonely up there. I am oppressed +with a sense of fear, just as if I were in a balloon ascending into a +rarer atmosphere, while more and more ballast was ever being thrown out. +I don't know how to make my meaning clear to you. I don't understand how +to keep up affectionate relations with those about me, and yet regard +them from a distance, as it were,--looking upon their deeds as the mere +action and reaction of natural forces. It seems to me as if, at that +height, every sound and every image must vanish into thin air." + +"Certainly, your Majesty. There is a realm of thought in which hearing +and sight do not exist, where there is pure thought and nothing more." + +"But are not the thoughts that there abound projected from the realm of +death into that of life, and is that any better than monastic +self-mortification?" + +"It is just the contrary. They praise death, or at all events extol it, +because after it life is to begin. I am not one of those who deny a +future life. I only say, in the words of my Master, 'Our knowledge is of +life and not of death,' and where my knowledge ceases my thoughts must +cease. Our labors, our love, are all of this life. And because God is in +this world and in all that exist in it, and only in those things, have +we to liberate the divine essence wherever it exists. The law of love +should rule. What the law of nature is in regard to matter, the moral +law is to man." + +"I cannot reconcile myself to your dividing the divine power into +millions of parts. When a stone is crushed, every fragment still remains +a stone; but when a flower is torn to pieces, the parts are no +longer flowers." + +"Let us take your simile as an illustration, although in truth no +example is adequate. The world, the firmament, the creatures that live +on the face of the earth, are not divided--they are one; thought regards +them as a whole. Take for instance the flower. The idea of divinity +which it suggests to us, and the fragrance which ascends from it, are +yet part and parcel of the flower; attributes without which it is +impossible for us to conceive of its existence. The works of all poets, +all thinkers, all heroes, may be likened to streams of fragrance wafted +through time and space. It is in the flower that they live forever. +Although the eternal spirit dwells in the cell of every tree or flower +and in every human heart, it is undivided and in its unity fills the +world. He whose thoughts dwell in the infinite regards the world as the +mighty corolla from which the thought of God exhales." + +Translation of S.A. Stern. + + +IN COUNTESS IRMA'S DIARY + +From 'On the Heights' + +Yesterday was a year since I lay at the foot of the rock. I could not +write a word. My brain whirled with the thoughts of that day; but now +it is over. + + * * * * * + +I don't think I shall write much more. I have now experienced all the +seasons in my new world. The circle is complete. There is nothing new +to come from without. I know all that exists about me, or that can +happen. I am at home in my new world. + + * * * * * + +Unto Jesus the Scribes and Pharisees brought a woman who was to be +stoned to death, and He said unto them, "Let him that is without sin +among you cast the first stone." + +Thus it is written. + +But I ask: How did she continue to live--she who was saved from being +stoned to death; she who was pardoned--that is, condemned to live? How +did she live on? Did she return to her home? How did she stand with the +world? And how with her own heart? + +No answer. None. + +I must find the answer in my own experience + + * * * * * + +"Let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone." These are +the noblest, the greatest words ever uttered by human lips, or heard by +human ear. They divide the history of the human race into two parts. +They are the "Let there be light" of the second creation. They divide +and heal my little life too, and create me anew. + +Has one who is not wholly without sin a right to offer precepts and +reflections to others? + +Look into your own heart. What are you? + +Behold my hands. They are hardened by toil. I have done more than merely +lift them in prayer. + + * * * * * + +Since I am alone I have not seen a letter of print. I have no book and +wish for none; and this is not in order to mortify myself, but because I +wish to be perfectly alone. + + * * * * * + +She who renounces the world, and in her loneliness still cherishes the +thought of eternity, has assumed a heavy burden. + +Convent life is not without its advantages. The different voices that +join in the _chorale_ sustain each other; and when the tone at last +ceases, it seems to float away on the air and vanish by degrees. But +here I am quite alone. I am priest and church, organ and congregation, +confessor and penitent, all in one; and my heart is often _so_ heavy, as +if I must needs have another to help me bear the load. "Take me up and +carry me, I cannot go further!" cries my soul. But then I rouse myself +again, seize my scrip and my pilgrim's staff and wander on, solitary and +alone; and while I wander, strength returns to me. + + * * * * * + +It often seems to me as if it were sinful thus to bury myself alive. My +voice is no longer heard in song, and much more that dwells within me +has become mute. + +Is this right? + +If my only object in life were to be at peace with myself, it would be +well enough; but I long to labor and to do something for others. Yet +where and what shall it be? + + * * * * * + +When I first heard that the beautifully carved furniture of the great +and wealthy is the work of prisoners, it made me shudder. And now, +although I am not deprived of freedom, I am in much the same condition. +Those who have disfigured life should, as an act of expiation, help to +make life more beautiful for others. The thought that I am doing this +comforts and sustains me. + + * * * * * + +My work prospers. But last winter's wood is not yet fit for use. My +little pitchman has brought me some that is old, excellent, and well +seasoned, having been part of the rafters of an old house that has just +been torn down. We work together cheerfully, and our earnings are +considerable. + + * * * * * + +Vice is the same everywhere, except that here it is more open. Among the +masses, vice is characterized by coarseness; among the upper classes, +by meanness. + +The latter shake off the consequences of their evil deeds, while the +former are obliged to bear them. + + * * * * * + +The rude manners of these people are necessary, and are far preferable +to polite deceit. They must needs be rough and rude. If it were not for +its coarse, thick bark, the oak could not withstand the storm. + +I have found that this rough bark covers more tenderness and sincerity +than does the smoothest surface. + + * * * * * + +Jochem told me, to-day, that he is still quite a good walker, but that a +blind man finds it very troublesome to go anywhere; for at every step he +is obliged to grope about, so that he may feel sure of his ground before +he firmly plants his foot on the earth. + +Is it not the same with me? Am I not obliged to be sure of the ground +before I take a step? + +Such is the way of the fallen. + +Ah! why does everything I see or hear become a symbol of my life? + + * * * * * + +I have now been here between two and three years. I have formed a +resolve which it will be difficult to carry out. I shall go out into the +world once more. I must again behold the scenes of my past life. I have +tested myself severely. + +May it not be a love of adventure, that genteel yet vulgar desire to +undertake what is unusual or fraught with peril? Or is it a morbid +desire to wander through the world after having died, as it were? + +No; far from it. What can it be? An intense longing to roam again, if it +be only for a few days. I must kill the desire, lest it kill me. + +Whence arises this sudden longing? + +Every tool that I use while at work burns my hand. + +I must go. + +I shall obey the impulse, without worrying myself with speculations as +to its cause. I am subject to the rules of no order. My will is my only +law. I harm no one by obeying it. I feel myself free; the world has no +power over me. + +I dreaded informing Walpurga of my intention. When I did so, her tone, +her words, her whole manner, and the fact that she for the first time +called me "child," made it seem as if her mother were still speaking +to me. + +"Child," said she, "you're right! Go! It'll do you good. I believe that +you'll come back and will stay with us; but if you don't, and another +life opens up to you--your expiation has been a bitter one, far heavier +than your sin." + +Uncle Peter was quite happy when he learned that we were to be gone +from one Sunday to the Sunday following. When I asked him whether he was +curious as to where we were going, he replied:-- + +"It's all one to me. I'd travel over the whole world with you, wherever +you'd care to go; and if you were to drive me away, I'd follow you like +a dog and find you again." + +I shall take my journal with me, and will note down every day. + + * * * * * + +[By the lake.]--I find it difficult to write a word. + +The threshold I am obliged to cross, in order to go out into the world, +is my own gravestone. + +I am equal to it. + +How pleasant it was to descend toward the valley. Uncle Peter sang; and +melodies suggested themselves to me, but I did not sing. Suddenly he +interrupted himself and said:-- + +"In the inns you'll be my niece, won't you?" + +"Yes." + +"But you must call me 'uncle' when we're there?" + +"Of course, dear uncle." + +He kept nodding to himself for the rest of the way, and was quite happy. + +We reached the inn at the landing. He drank, and I drank too, from the +same glass. + +"Where are you going?" asked the hostess. + +"To the capital," said he, although I had not said a word to him about +it. Then he said to me in a whisper:-- + +"If you intend to go elsewhere, the people needn't know everything." + +I let him have his own way. + +I looked for the place where I had wandered at that time. There--there +was the rock--and on it a cross, bearing in golden characters the +inscription:-- + + HERE PERISHED + + IRMA, COUNTESS VON WILDENORT, + + IN THE TWENTY-FIRST YEAR + OF HER LIFE. + + _Traveler, pray for her and honor her memory_. + +I never rightly knew why I was always dissatisfied, and yearning for +the next hour, the next day, the next year, hoping that it would bring +me that which I could not find in the present. It was not love, for love +does not satisfy. I desired to live in the passing moment, but could +not. It always seemed as if something were waiting for me without the +door, and calling me. What could it have been? + +I know now; it was a desire to be at one with myself, to understand +myself. Myself in the world, and the world in me. + + * * * * * + +The vain man is the loneliest of human beings. He is constantly longing +to be seen, understood, acknowledged, admired, and loved. + +I could say much on the subject, for I too was once vain. It was only in +actual solitude that I conquered the loneliness of vanity. It is enough +for me that I exist. + +How far removed this is from all that is mere show. + + * * * * * + +Now I understand my father's last act. He did not mean to punish me. His +only desire was to arouse me; to lead me to self-consciousness; to the +knowledge which, teaching us to become different from what we are, +saves us. + + * * * * * + +I understand the inscription in my father's library:--"When I am alone, +then am I least alone." + +Yes; when alone, one can more perfectly lose himself in the life +universal. I have lived and have come to know the truth. I can now die. + + * * * * * + +He who is at one with himself, possesses all.... + +I believe that I know what I have done. I have no compassion for myself. +This is my full confession. + +I have sinned--not against nature, but against the world's rules. Is +that sin? Look at the tall pines in yonder forest. The higher the tree +grows, the more do the lower branches die away; and thus the tree in the +thick forest is protected and sheltered by its fellows, but can +nevertheless not perfect itself in all directions. + +I desired to lead a full and complete life and yet to be in the forest, +to be in the world and yet in society. But he who means to live thus, +must remain in solitude. As soon as we become members of society, we +cease to be mere creatures of nature. Nature and morality have equal +rights, and must form a compact with each other; and where there are two +powers with equal rights, there must be mutual concessions. + +Herein lies my sin. + +_He who desires to live a life of nature alone, must withdraw himself +from the protection of morality. I did not fully desire either the one +or the other; hence I was crushed and shattered_. + +My father's last action was right. He avenged the moral law, which is +just as human as the law of nature. The animal world knows neither +father nor mother, so soon as the young is able to take care of itself. +The human world does know them and must hold them sacred. + +I see it all quite clearly. My sufferings and my expiation are deserved. +I was a thief! I stole the highest treasures of all: confidence, love, +honor, respect, splendor. + +How noble and exalted the tender souls appear to themselves when a poor +rogue is sent to jail for having committed a theft! But what are all +possessions which can be carried away, when compared with those that are +intangible! + +Those who are summoned to the bar of justice are not always the basest +of mankind. + +I acknowledge my sin, and my repentance is sincere. + +My fatal sin, the sin for which I now atone, was that I dissembled, that +I denied and extenuated that which I represented to myself as a natural +right. Against the Queen I have sinned worst of all. To me she +represents that moral order which I violated and yet wished to enjoy. + +To you, O Queen, to you--lovely, good, and deeply injured one--do I +confess all this! + +If I die before you,--and I hope that I may,--these pages are to be +given to you. + + * * * * * + +I can now accurately tell the season of the year, and often the hour of +the day, by the way in which the first sunbeams fall into my room and on +my work-bench in the morning. My chisel hangs before me on the wall, and +is my index. + +The drizzling spring showers now fall on the trees; and thus it is with +me. It seems as if there were a new delight in store for me. What can it +be? I shall patiently wait! + + * * * * * + +A strange feeling comes over me, as if I were lifted up from the chair +on which I am sitting, and were flying, I know not whither! What is it? +I feel as if dwelling in eternity. + +Everything seems flying toward me: the sunlight and the sunshine, the +rustling of the forests and the forest breezes, beings of all ages and +of all kinds--all seem beautiful and rendered transparent by the +sun's glow. + +I am! + +I am in God! + +If I could only die now and be wafted through this joy to dissolution +and redemption! + +But I will live on until my hour comes. + +Come, thou dark hour, whenever thou wilt! To me thou art light! + +I feel that there is light within me. O Eternal Spirit of the universe, +I am one with thee! + +I was dead, and I live--I shall die and yet live. + +Everything has been forgiven and blotted out.--There was dust on my +wings.--I soar aloft into the sun and into infinite space. I shall die +singing from the fullness of my soul. Shall I sing! + +Enough. + + * * * * * + +I know that I shall again be gloomy and depressed and drag along a weary +existence; but I have once soared into infinity and have felt a ray of +eternity within me. That I shall never lose again. I should like to go +to a convent, to some quiet, cloistered cell, where I might know nothing +of the world, and could live on within myself until death shall call me. +But it is not to be. I am destined to live on in freedom and to labor; +to live with my fellow-beings and to work for them. + +The results of my handiwork and of my powers of imagination belong to +you; but what I am within myself is mine alone. + + * * * * * + +I have taken leave of everything here; of my quiet room, of my summer +bench; for I know not whether I shall ever return. And if I do, who +knows but what everything may have become strange to me? + + * * * * * + +(Last page written in pencil.)--It is my wish that when I am dead, I may +be wrapped in a simple linen cloth, placed in a rough unplaned coffin, +and buried under the apple-tree, on the road that leads to my paternal +mansion. I desire that my brother and other relatives may be apprised of +my death at once, and that they shall not disturb my grave by +the wayside. + +No stone, no name, is to mark my grave. + + + + +EMILE AUGIER + +(1820-1889) + + +As an observer of society, a satirist, and a painter of types and +characters of modern life, Emile Augier ranks among the greatest French +dramatists of this century. Critics consider him in the line of direct +descent from Moliere and Beaumarchais. His collected works ('Theatre +Complet') number twenty-seven plays, of which nine are in verse. Eight +of these were written with a literary partner. Three are now called +classics: 'Le Gendre de M. Poirier' (M. Poirier's Son-in-Law), +'L'Aventuriere' (The Adventuress), and 'Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's +Boy). 'Le Gendre de M. Poirier' was written with Jules Sandeau, but the +admirers of Augier have proved by internal evidence that his share in +its composition was the greater. It is a comedy of manners based on the +old antagonism between vulgar ignorant energy and ability on the one +side, and lazy empty birth and breeding on the other; embodied in +Poirier, a wealthy shopkeeper, and M. de Presles, his son-in-law, an +impoverished nobleman. Guillaume Victor Emile Augier was born in +Valence, France, September 17th, 1820, and was intended for the law; but +inheriting literary tastes from his grandfather, Pigault Lebrun the +romance writer, he devoted himself to letters. When his first play, 'La +Cigue' (The Hemlock),--in the preface to which he defended his +grandfather's memory,--was presented at the Odeon in 1844, it made the +author famous. Theophile Gautier describes it at length in Vol. iii. of +his 'Art Dramatique,' and compares it to Shakespeare's 'Timon of +Athens.' It is a classic play, and the hero closes his career by a +draught of hemlock. + +Augier's works are:--'Un Homme de Bien' (A Good Man); 'L'Aventuriere' +(The Adventuress); 'Gabrielle'; 'Le Joueur de Flute' (The Flute Player); +'Diane' (Diana), a romantic play on the same theme as Victor Hugo's +'Marion Delorme,' written for and played by Rachel; 'La Pierre de +Touche' (The Touchstone), with Jules Sandeau; 'Philberte,' a comedy of +the last century; 'Le Mariage d'Olympe' (Olympia's Marriage); 'Le Gendre +de M. Poirier' (M. Poirier's Son-in-Law); 'Ceinture Doree' (The Golden +Belt), with Edouard Foussier; 'La Jeunesse' (Youth); 'Les Lionnes +Pauvres' (Ambition and Poverty),--a bold story of social life in Paris +during the Second Empire, also with Foussier; 'Les Effrontes' (Brass), +an attack on the worship of money; 'Le Fils de Giboyer' (Giboyer's Boy), +the story of a father's devotion, ambitions, and self-sacrifice; 'Maitre +Guerin' (Guerin the Notary), the hero being an inventor; 'La Contagion' +(Contagion), the theme of which is skepticism; 'Paul Forestier,' the +story of a young artist; 'Le Post-Scriptum' (The Postscript); 'Lions et +Renards' (Lions and Foxes), whose motive is love of power; 'Jean +Thommeray,' the hero of which is drawn from Sandeau's novel of the same +title; 'Madame Caverlet,' hinging on the divorce question; 'Les +Fourchambault' (The Fourchambaults), a plea for family union; 'La Chasse +au Roman' (Pursuit of a Romance), and 'L'Habit Vert' (The Green Coat), +with Sandeau and Alfred de Musset; and the libretto for Gounod's opera +'Sappho.' Augier wrote one volume of verse, which he modestly called +'Parietaire,' the name of a common little vine, the English danewort. In +1858 he was elected to the French Academy, and in 1868 became a +Commander of the Legion of Honor. He died at Croissy, October 25th, +1889. An analysis of his dramas by Emile Montegut is published in the +Revue de Deux Mondes for April, 1878. + + +A CONVERSATION WITH A PURPOSE + +From 'Giboyer's Boy' + +_Marquis_--Well, dear Baroness, what has an old bachelor like me done to +deserve so charming a visit? + +_Baroness_--That's what I wonder myself, Marquis. Now I see you I don't +know why I've come, and I've a great mind to go straight back. + +_Marquis_--Sit down, vexatious one! + +_Baroness_--No. So you close your door for a week; your servants all +look tragic; your friends put on mourning in anticipation; I, +disconsolate, come to inquire--and behold, I find you at table! + +_Marquis_--I'm an old flirt, and wouldn't show myself for an empire when +I'm in a bad temper. You wouldn't recognize your agreeable friend when +he has the gout;--that's why I hide. + +_Baroness_--I shall rush off to reassure your friend. + +_Marquis_--They are not so anxious as all that. Tell me something of +them. + +_Baroness_--But somebody's waiting in my carriage. + +_Marquis_--I'll send to ask him up. + +_Baroness_--But I'm not sure that you know him. + +_Marquis_--His name? + +_Baroness_--I met him by chance. + +_Marquis_--And you brought him by chance. [_He rings_.] You are a mother +to me. [_To Dubois_.] You will find an ecclesiastic in Madame's +carriage. Tell him I'm much obliged for his kind alacrity, but I think I +won't die this morning. + +_Baroness_--O Marquis! what would our friends say if they heard you? + +_Marquis_--Bah! I'm the black sheep of the party, its spoiled child; +that's taken for granted. Dubois, you may say also that Madame begs the +Abbe to drive home, and to send her carriage back for her. + +_Baroness_--Allow me-- + +_Marquis_--Go along, Dubois.--Now you are my prisoner. + +_Baroness_--But, Marquis, this is very unconventional. + +_Marquis [kissing her hand_]--Flatterer! Now sit down, and let's talk +about serious things. _[Taking a newspaper from the table_.] The gout +hasn't kept me from reading the news. Do you know that poor Deodat's +death is a serious mishap? + +_Baroness_--What a loss to our cause! + +_Marquis_--I have wept for him. + +_Baroness_--Such talent! Such spirit! Such sarcasm! + +_Marquis_--He was the hussar of orthodoxy. He will live in history as +the angelic pamphleteer. And now that we have settled his noble ghost-- + +_Baroness_--You speak very lightly about it, Marquis. + +_Marquis_--I tell you I've wept for him.--Now let's think of some one to +replace him. + +_Baroness_--Say to succeed him. Heaven doesn't create two such men at +the same time. + +_Marquis_--What if I tell you that I have found such another? Yes, +Baroness, I've unearthed a wicked, cynical, virulent pen, that spits and +splashes; a fellow who would lard his own father with epigrams for a +consideration, and who would eat him with salt for five francs more. + +_Baroness_--Deodat had sincere convictions. + +_Marquis_--That's because he fought for them. There are no more +mercenaries. The blows they get convince them. I'll give this fellow a +week to belong to us body and soul. + +_Baroness_--If you haven't any other proofs of his faithfulness-- + +_Marquis_--But I have. + +_Baroness_--Where from? + +_Marquis_--Never mind. I have it. + +_Baroness_--And why do you wait before presenting him? + +_Marquis_--For him in the first place, and then for his consent. He +lives in Lyons, and I expect him to-day or to-morrow. As soon as he is +presentable, I'll introduce him. + +_Baroness_--Meanwhile, I'll tell the committee of your find. + +_Marquis_--I beg you, no. With regard to the committee, dear Baroness, I +wish you'd use your influence in a matter which touches me. + +_Baroness_--I have not much influence-- + +_Marquis_--Is that modesty, or the exordium of a refusal? + +_Baroness_--If either, it's modesty. + +_Marquis_--Very well, my charming friend. Don't you know that these +gentlemen owe you too much to refuse you anything? + +_Baroness_--Because they meet in my parlor? + +_Marquis_--That, yes; but the true, great, inestimable service you +render every day is to possess such superb eyes. + +_Baroness_--It's well for you to pay attention to such things! + +_Marquis_--Well for me, but better for these Solons whose compliments +don't exceed a certain romantic intensity. + +_Baroness_--You are dreaming. + +_Marquis_--What I say is true. That's why serious societies always rally +in the parlor of a woman, sometimes clever, sometimes beautiful. You are +both, Madame: judge then of your power! + +_Baroness_--You are too complimentary: your cause must be detestable. + +_Marquis_--If it was good I could win it for myself. + +_Baroness_--Come, tell me, tell me. + +_Marquis_--Well, then: we must choose an orator to the Chamber for our +Campaign against the University. I want them to choose-- + +_Baroness_--Monsieur Marechal? + +_Marquis_--You are right. + +_Baroness_--Do you really think so, Marquis? Monsieur Marechal? + +_Marquis_--Yes, I know. But we don't need a bolt of eloquence, since +we'll furnish the address. Marechal reads well enough, I assure you. + +_Baroness_--We made him deputy on your recommendation. That was a good +deal. + +_Marquis_--Marechal is an excellent recruit. + +_Baroness_--So you say. + +_Marquis_--How disgusted you are! An old subscriber to the +Constitutionnel, a liberal, a Voltairean, who comes over to the enemy +bag and baggage. What would you have? Monsieur Marechal is not a man, my +dear: it's the stout _bourgeoisie_ itself coming over to us. I love this +honest _bourgeoisie_, which hates the revolution, since there is no more +to be gotten out of it; which wants to stem the tide which brought it, +and make over a little feudal France to its own profit. Let it draw our +chestnuts from the fire if it wants to. This pleasant sight makes me +enjoy politics. Long live Monsieur Marechal and his likes, _bourgeois_ +of the right divine. Let us heap these precious allies with honor and +glory until our triumph ships them off to their mills again. + +_Baroness_--Several of our deputies are birds of the same feather. Why +choose the least capable for orator? + +_Marquis_--It's not a question of capacity. + +_Baroness_--You're a warm patron of Monsieur Marechal! + +_Marquis_--I regard him as a kind of family protege. His grandfather was +farmer to mine. I'm his daughter's guardian. These are bonds. + +_Baroness_--You don't tell everything. + +_Marquis_--All that I know. + +_Baroness_--Then let me complete your information. They say that in old +times you fell in love with the first Madame Marechal. + +_Marquis_--I hope you don't believe this silly story? + +_Baroness_--Faith, you do so much to please Monsieur Marechal-- + +_Marquis_--That it seems as if I must have injured him? Good heavens! +Who is safe from malice? Nobody. Not even you, dear Baroness. + +_Baroness_--I'd like to know what they can say of me. + +_Marquis_--Foolish things that I certainly won't repeat. + +_Baroness_--Then you believe them? + +_Marquis_--God forbid! That your dead husband married his mother's +companion? It made me so angry! + +_Baroness_--Too much honor for such wretched gossip. + +_Marquis_--I answered strongly enough, I can tell you. + +_Baroness_--I don't doubt it. + +_Marquis_--But you are right in wanting to marry again. + +_Baroness_--Who says I want to? + +_Marquis_--Ah! you don't treat me as a friend. I deserve your confidence +all the more for understanding you as if you had given it. The aid of a +sorcerer is not to be despised, Baroness. + +_Baroness_ [_sitting down by the table_]--Prove your sorcery. + +_Marquis_ [_sitting down opposite_]--Willingly! Give me your hand. + +_Baroness_ [_removing her glove_]--You'll give it back again. + +_Marquis_--And help you dispose of it, which is more. [_Examining her +hand_.] You are beautiful, rich, and a widow. + +_Baroness_--I could believe myself at Mademoiselle Lenormand's! + +_Marquis_--While it is so easy, not to say tempting, for you to lead a +brilliant, frivolous life, you have chosen a role almost austere with +its irreproachable morals. + +_Baroness_--If it was a role, you'll admit that it was much like a +penitence. + +_Marquis_--Not for you. + +_Baroness_--What do you know about it? + +_Marquis_--I read it in your hand. I even see that the contrary would +cost you more, for nature has gifted your heart with unalterable +calmness. + +_Baroness_ [_drawing away her hand_]--Say at once that I'm a monster. + +_Marquis_--Time enough! The credulous think you a saint; the skeptics +say you desire power; I, Guy Francois Condorier, Marquis d'Auberive, +think you a clever little German, trying to build a throne for yourself +in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. You have conquered the men, but the women +resist you: your reputation offends them; and for want of a better +weapon they use this miserable rumor I've just repeated. In short, your +flag's inadequate and you're looking for a larger one. Henry IV. said +that Paris was worth a mass. You think so too. + +_Baroness_--They say sleep-walkers shouldn't be contradicted. However, +do let me say that if I really wanted a husband--with my money and my +social position, I might already have found twenty. + +_Marquis_--Twenty, yes; but not one. You forget this little devil of a +rumor. + +_Baroness [rising]_--Only fools believe that. + +_Marquis [rising]_--There's the _hic_. It's only very clever men, too +clever, who court you, and you want a fool. + +_Baroness_--Why? + +_Marquis_--Because you don't want a master. You want a husband whom you +can keep in your parlor, like a family portrait, nothing more. + +_Baroness_--Have you finished, dear diviner? What you have just said +lacks common-sense, but you are amusing, and I can refuse you nothing. + +_Marquis_--Marechal shall have the oration? + +_Baroness_--Or I'll lose my name. + +_Marquis_--And you _shall_ lose your name--I promise you. + + +A SEVERE YOUNG JUDGE + +From 'The Adventuress' + +_Clorinde_ [_softly_]--Here's Celie. Look at her clear eyes. I love her, +innocent child! + +_Annibal_--Yes, yes, yes! [_He sits down in a corner._] + +_Clorinde_ [_approaching Celie, who has paused in the doorway_]--My +child, you would not avoid me to-day if you knew how happy you make me! + +_Celie_--My father has ordered me to come to you. + +_Clorinde_--Ordered you? Did you need an order? Are we really on such +terms? Tell me, do you think I do not love you, that you should look +upon me as your enemy? Dear, if you could read my heart you would find +there the tenderest attachment. + +_Celie_--I do not know whether you are sincere, Madame. I hope that you +are not, for it distresses one to be loved by those-- + +_Clorinde_--Whom one does not love? They must have painted me black +indeed, that you are so reluctant to believe in my friendship. + +_Celie_--They have told me--what I have heard, thanks to you, Madame, +was not fit for my young ears. This interview is cruel--Please let me-- + +_Clorinde_--No, no! Stay, Mademoiselle. For this interview, painful to +us both, nevertheless concerns us both. + +_Celie_--I am not your judge, Madame. + +_Clorinde_--Nevertheless you do judge me, and severely! Yes, my life has +been blameworthy; I confess it. But you know nothing of its temptations. +How should you know, sweet soul, to whom life is happy and goodness +easy? Child, you have your family to guard you. You have happiness to +keep watch and ward for you. How should you know what poverty whispers +to young ears on cold evenings! You, who have never been hungry, how +should you understand the price that is asked for a mouthful of bread? + +_Celie_--I don't know the pleadings of poverty, but one need not listen +to them. There are many poor girls who go hungry and cold and keep +from harm. + +_Clorinde_--Child, their courage is sublime. Honor them if you will, but +pity the cowards. + +_Celie_--Yes, for choosing infamy rather than work, hunger, or death! +Yes, for losing the respect of all honest souls! Yes, I can pity them +for not being worthier of pity. + +_Clorinde_--So that's your Christian charity! So nothing in the +world--bitter repentance or agonies of suffering, or vows of sanctity +for all time to come--may obliterate the past? + +_Celie_--You force me to speak without knowledge. But--since I must give +judgment--who really hates a fault will hate the fruit of it. If you +keep this place, Madame, you will not expect me to believe in the +genuineness of your renunciations. + +_Clorinde_--I do not dishonor it. There is no reason why I should leave +it. I have already proved my sincerity by high-minded and generous acts. +I bear myself as my place demands. My conscience is at rest. + +_Celie_--Your good action--for I believe you--is only the beginning of +expiation. Virtue seems to me like a holy temple. You may leave it by a +door with a single step, but to enter again you must climb up a hundred +on your knees, beating your breast. + +_Clorinde_--How rigid you all are, and how your parents train their +first-born never to open the ranks! Oh, fortunate race! impenetrable +phalanx of respectability, who make it impossible for the sinner to +reform! You keep the way of repentance so rough that the foot of poor +humanity cannot tread it. God will demand from you the lost souls whom +your hardness has driven back to sin. + +_Celie_--God, do you say? When good people forgive they betray his +justice. For punishment is not retribution only, but the acknowledgment +and recompense of those fighting ones that brave hunger and cold in a +garret, Madame, yet do not surrender. + +_Clorinde_--Go, child! I cannot bear more-- + +_Celie_--I have said more than I meant to say. Good-by. This is the +first and last time that I shall ever speak of this. + +[_She goes_.] + + +A CONTENTED IDLER + +From 'M. Poirier's Son-in-Law' + +[_The party are leaving the dining-room._] + +_Gaston_--Well, Hector! What do you think of it? The house is just as +you see it now, every day in the year. Do you believe there is a happier +man in the world than I? + +_Duke_--Faith! I envy you; you reconcile me to marriage. + +_Antoinette_ [_in a low voice to Verdelet_]--Monsieur de Montmeyran is a +charming young man! + +_Verdelet_ [_in a low voice_]--He pleases me. + +_Gaston_ [_to Poirier, who comes in last_]--Monsieur Poirier, I must +tell you once for all how much I esteem you. Don't think I'm ungrateful. + +_Poirier_--Oh! Monsieur! + +_Gaston_--Why the devil don't you call me Gaston? And you, too, dear +Monsieur Verdelet, I'm very glad to see you. + +_Antoinette_--He is one of the family, Gaston. + +_Gaston_--Shake hands then, Uncle. + +_Verdelet_ [_aside, giving him his hand_]--He's not a bad fellow. + +_Gaston_--Agree, Hector, that I've been lucky. Monsieur Poirier, I feel +guilty. You make my life one long fete and never give me a chance in +return. Try to think of something I can do for you. + +_Poirier_--Very well, if that's the way you feel, give me a quarter of +an hour. I should like to have a serious talk with you. + +_Duke_--I'll withdraw. + +_Poirier_--No, stay, Monsieur. We are going to hold a kind of family +council. Neither you nor Verdelet will be in the way. + +_Gaston_--The deuce, my dear father-in-law. A family council! You +embarrass me! + +_Poirier_--Not at all, dear Gaston. Let us sit down. + +[_They seat themselves around the fireplace_.] + +_Gaston_--Begin, Monsieur Poirier. + +_Poirier_--You say you are happy, dear Gaston, and that is my greatest +recompense. + +_Gaston_--I'm willing to double your gratification. + +_Poirier_--But now that three months have been given to the joys of the +honeymoon, I think that there has been romance enough, and that it's +time to think about history. + +_Gaston_--You talk like a book. Certainly, we'll think about history if +you wish. I'm willing. + +_Poirier_--What do you intend to do? + +_Gaston_--To-day? + +_Poirier_--And to-morrow, and in the future. You must have some idea. + +_Gaston_--True, my plans are made. I expect to do to-day what I did +yesterday, and to-morrow what I shall do to-day. I'm not versatile, in +spite of my light air; and if the future is only like the present I'll +be satisfied. + +_Poirier_--But you are too sensible to think that the honeymoon can last +forever. + +_Gaston_--Too sensible, and too good an astronomer. But you've probably +read Heine? + +_Poirier_--You must have read that, Verdelet? + +_Verdelet_--Yes; I've read him. + +_Poirier_--Perhaps he spent his life at playing truant. + +_Gaston_--Well, Heine, when he was asked what became of the old full +moons, said that they were broken up to make the stars. + +_Poirier_--I don't understand. + +_Gaston_--When our honeymoon is old, we'll break it up and there'll be +enough to make a whole Milky Way. + +_Poirier_--That is a clever idea, of course. + +_Gaston_--Its only merit is simplicity. + +_Poirier_--But seriously, don't you think that the idle life you lead +may jeopardize the happiness of a young household? + +_Gaston_--Not at all. + +_Verdelet_--A man of your capacity can't mean to idle all his life. + +_Gaston_--With resignation. + +_Antoinette_--Don't you think you'll find it dull after a time, Gaston? + +_Gaston_--You calumniate yourself, my dear. + +_Antoinette_--I'm not vain enough to suppose that I can fill your whole +existence, and I admit that I'd like to see you follow the example of +Monsieur de Montmeyran. + +_Gaston_ [_rising and leaning against the mantelpiece_]--Perhaps you +want me to fight? + +_Antoinette_--No, of course not. + +_Gaston_--What then? + +_Poirier_--We want you to take a position worthy of your name. + +_Gaston_--There are only three positions which my name permits me: +soldier, bishop, or husbandman. Choose. + +_Poirier_--We owe everything to France. France is our mother. + +_Verdelet_--I understand the vexation of a son whose mother remarries; I +understand why he doesn't go to the wedding: but if he has the right +kind of heart he won't turn sulky. If the second husband makes her +happy, he'll soon offer him a friendly hand. + +_Poirier_--The nobility cannot always hold itself aloof, as it begins to +perceive. More than one illustrious name has set the example: Monsieur +de Valcherriere, Monsieur de Chazerolles, Monsieur de Mont Louis-- + +_Gaston_--These men have done as they thought best. I don't judge them, +but I cannot imitate them. + +_Antoinette_--Why not, Gaston? + +_Gaston_--Ask Montmeyran. + +_Verdelet_--The Duke's uniform answers for him. + +_Duke_--Excuse me, a soldier has but one opinion--his duty; but one +adversary--the enemy. + +_Poirier_--However, Monsieur-- + +_Gaston_--Enough, it isn't a matter of politics, Monsieur Poirier. One +may discuss opinions, but not sentiments. I am bound by gratitude. My +fidelity is that of a servant and of a friend. Not another word. [_To +the Duke_.] I beg your pardon, my dear fellow. This is the first time +we've talked politics here, and I promise you it shall be the last. + +_The Duke_ [_in a low voice to Antoinette_]--You've been forced into +making a mistake, Madame. + +_Antoinette_--I know it, now that it's too late. + +_Verdelet_ [_softly, to Poirier_]--Now you're in a fine fix. + +_Poirier_ [_in same tone_]--He's repulsed the first assault, but I don't +raise the siege. + +_Gaston_--I'm not resentful, Monsieur Poirier. Perhaps I spoke a little +too strongly, but this is a tender point with me, and unintentionally +you wounded me. Shake hands. + +_Poirier_--You are very kind. + +_A Servant_--There are some people in the little parlor who say they +have an appointment with Monsieur Poirier. + +_Poirier_--Very well, ask them to wait a moment. [_The servant goes +out_.] Your creditors, son-in-law. + +_Gaston_--Yours, my dear father-in-law. I've turned them over to you. + +_Duke_--As a wedding present. + + +THE FEELINGS OF AN ARTIST + +From 'M. Poirier's Son-in-Law' + +_Poirier_ [_alone_]--How vexatious he is, that son-in-law of mine! and +there's no way to get rid of him. He'll die a nobleman, for he will do +nothing and he is good for nothing.--There's no end to the money he +costs me.--He is master of my house.--I'll put a stop to it. [_He rings. +Enter a servant_.] Send up the porter and the cook. We shall see my +son-in-law! I have set up my back. I've unsheathed my velvet paws. You +will make no concessions, eh, my fine gentleman? Take your comfort! I +will not yield either: you may remain marquis, and I will again become a +_bourgeois_. At least I'll have the pleasure of living to my fancy. + +_The Porter_--Monsieur has sent for me? + +_Poirier_--Yes, Francois, Monsieur has sent for you. You can put the +sign on the door at once. + +_The Porter_--The sign? + +_Poirier_--"To let immediately, a magnificent apartment on the first +floor, with stables and carriage houses." + +_The Porter_--The apartment of Monsieur le Marquis? + +_Poirier_--You have said it, Francois. + +_The Porter_--But Monsieur le Marquis has not given the order. + +_Poirier_--Who is the master here, donkey? Who owns this mansion? + +_The Porter_--You, Monsieur. + +_Poirier_--Then do what I tell you without arguing. + +_The Porter_--Yes, Monsieur. [_Enter Vatel_.] + +_Poirier_--Go, Francois. [_Exit Porter_.] Come in, Monsieur Vatel: you +are getting up a big dinner for to-morrow? + +_Vatel_--Yes, Monsieur, and I venture to say that the menu would not be +disowned by my illustrious ancestor himself. It is really a work of art, +and Monsieur Poirier will be astonished. + +_Poirier_--Have you the menu with you? + +_Vatel_--No, Monsieur, it is being copied; but I know it by heart. + +_Poirier_--Then recite it to me. + +_Vatel_--Le potage aux ravioles a l'Italienne et le potage a l'orge a la +Marie Stuart. + +_Poirier_--You will replace these unknown concoctions by a good meat +soup, with some vegetables on a plate. + +_Vatel_--What, Monsieur? + +_Poirier_--I mean it. Go on. + +_Vatel_--Releve. La carpe du Rhin a la Lithuanienne, les poulardes a la +Godard--le filet de boeuf braise aux raisins a la Napolitaine, le jambon +de Westphalie, rotie madere. + +_Poirier_--Here is a simpler and far more sensible fish course: brill +with caper sauce--then Bayonne ham with spinach, and a savory stew of +bird, with well-browned rabbit. + +_Vatel_--But, Monsieur Poirier--I will never consent. + +_Poirier_--I am master--do you hear? Go on. + +_Vatel_--Entrees. Les filets de volaille a la concordat--les croustades +de truffe garnies de foies a la royale, le faison etoffe a la +Montpensier, les perdreaux rouges farcis a la bohemienne. + +_Poirier_--In place of these side dishes we will have nothing at all, +and we will go at once to the roast,--that is the only essential. + +_Vatel_--That is against the precepts of art. + +_Poirier_--I'll take the blame of that: let us have your roasts. + +_Vatel_--It is not worth while, Monsieur: my ancestor would have run his +sword through his body for a less affront. I offer my resignation. + +_Poirier_--And I was about to ask for it, my good friend; but as one has +eight days to replace a servant-- + +_Vatel_--A servant, Monsieur? I am an artist! + +_Poirier_--I will fill your place by a woman. But in the mean time, as +you still have eight days in my service, I wish you to prepare my menu. + +_Vatel_--I will blow my brains out before I dishonor my name. + +_Poirier_ [_aside_]--Another fellow who adores his name! [_Aloud_.] You +may burn your brains, Monsieur Vatel, but don't burn your sauces.--Well, +_bon jour_! [_Exit Vatel_.] And now to write invitations to my old +cronies of the Rue des Bourdonnais. Monsieur le Marquis de Presles, I'll +soon take the starch out of you. + +[_He goes out whistling the first couplet of 'Monsieur and Madame +Denis.'_] + + +A CONTEST OF WILLS + +From 'The Fourchambaults' + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Why do you follow me? + +_Fourchambault_--I'm not following you: I'm accompanying you. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--I despise you; let me alone. Oh! my poor mother +little thought what a life of privation would be mine when she gave me +to you with a dowry of eight hundred thousand francs! + +_Fourchambault_--A life of privation--because I refuse you a yacht! + +_Madame Fourchambault_--I thought my dowry permitted me to indulge a +few whims, but it seems I was wrong. + +_Fourchambault_--A whim costing eight thousand francs! + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Would you have to pay for it? + +_Fourchambault_--That's the kind of reasoning that's ruining me. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Now he says I'm ruining him! His whole fortune +comes from me. + +_Fourchambault_--Now don't get angry, my dear. I want you to have +everything in reason, but you must understand the situation. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--The situation? + +_Fourchambault_--I ought to be a rich man; but thanks to the continual +expenses you incur in the name of your dowry, I can barely rub along +from day to day. If there should be a sudden fall in stocks, I have no +reserve with which to meet it. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--That can't be true! Tell me at once that it +isn't true, for if it were so you would be without excuse. + +_Fourchambault_--I or you? + +_Madame Fourchambault_--This is too much! Is it my fault that you don't +understand business? If you haven't had the wit to make the best use of +your way of living and your family connections--any one else-- + +_Fourchambault_--Quite likely! But I am petty enough to be a scrupulous +man, and to wish to remain one. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Pooh! That's the excuse of all the dolts who +can't succeed. They set up to be the only honest fellows in business. In +my opinion, Monsieur, a timid and mediocre man should not insist upon +remaining at the head of a bank, but should turn the position over +to his son. + +_Fourchambault_--You are still harping on that? But, my dear, you might +as well bury me alive! Already I'm a mere cipher in my family. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--You do not choose your time well to pose as a +victim, when like a tyrant you are refusing me a mere trifle. + +_Fourchambault_--I refuse you nothing. I merely explain my position. Now +do as you like. It is useless to expostulate. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--At last! But you have wounded me to the heart, +Adrien, and just when I had a surprise for you-- + +_Fourchambault_--What is your surprise? [_Aside_: It makes me tremble.] + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Thanks to me, the Fourchambaults are going to +triumph over the Duhamels. + +_Fourchambault_--How? + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Madame Duhamel has been determined this long +time to marry her daughter to the son of the prefect. + +_Fourchambault_--I knew it. What about it? + +_Madame Fourchambault_--While she was making a goose of herself so +publicly, I was quietly negotiating, and Baron Rastiboulois is coming to +ask our daughter's hand. + +_Fourchambault_--That will never do! I'm planning quite a different +match for her. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--You? I should like to know-- + +_Fourchambault_--He's a fine fellow of our own set, who loves Blanche, +and whom she loves if I'm not mistaken. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--You are entirely mistaken. You mean Victor +Chauvet, Monsieur Bernard's clerk? + +_Fourchambault_--His right arm, rather. His _alter ego_. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Blanche did think of him at one time. But her +fancy was just a morning mist, which I easily dispelled. She has +forgotten all about him, and I advise you to follow her example. + +_Fourchambault_--What fault can you find with this young man? + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Nothing and everything. Even his name is absurd. +I never would have consented to be called Madame Chauvet, and Blanche is +as proud as I was. But that is only a detail; the truth is, I won't have +her marry a clerk. + +_Fourchambault_--You won't have! You won't have! But there are two of +us. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Are you going to portion Blanche? + +_Fourchambault_--I? No. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Then you see there are not two of us. As I am +going to portion her, it is my privilege to choose my son-in-law. + +_Fourchambault_--And mine to refuse him. I tell you I won't have your +little baron at any price. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Now it is your turn. What fault can you find +with him, except his title? + +_Fourchambault_--He's fast, a gambler, worn out by dissipation. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--Blanche likes him just as he is. + +_Fourchambault_--Heavens! He's not even handsome. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--What does that matter? Haven't I been the +happiest of wives? + +_Fourchambault_--What? One word is as good as a hundred. I won't have +him. Blanche need not take Chauvet, but she shan't marry Rastiboulois +either. That's all I have to say. + +_Madame Fourchambault_--But, Monsieur-- + +_Fourchambault_--That's all I have to say. + +[_He goes out._] + + + + +ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO + +(354-430) + +BY SAMUEL HART + + +St. Augustine of Hippo (Aurelius Augustinus) was born at Tagaste in +Numidia, November 13th, 354. The story of his life has been told by +himself in that wonderful book addressed to God which he called the +'Confessions'. He gained but little from his father Patricius; he owed +almost everything to his loving and saintly mother Monica. Though she +was a Christian, she did not venture to bring her son to baptism; and he +went away from home with only the echo of the name of Jesus Christ in +his soul, as it had been spoken by his mother's lips. He fell deeply +into the sins of youth, but found no satisfaction in them, nor was he +satisfied by the studies of literature to which for a while he devoted +himself. The reading of Cicero's 'Hortensius' partly called him back to +himself; but before he was twenty years old he was carried away into +Manichaeism, a strange system of belief which united traces of Christian +teaching with Persian doctrines of two antagonistic principles, +practically two gods, a good god of the spiritual world and an evil god +of the material world. From this he passed after a while into less gross +forms of philosophical speculation, and presently began to lecture on +rhetoric at Tagaste and at Carthage. When nearly thirty years of age he +went to Rome, only to be disappointed in his hopes for glory as a +rhetorician; and after two years his mother joined him at Milan. + +[Illustration: _ST. AUGUSTINE AND HIS MOTHER_. Photogravure from a +Painting by Ary Scheffer.] + +[Illustration] + +The great Ambrose had been called from the magistrate's chair to be +bishop of this important city; and his character and ability made a +great impression on Augustine. But Augustine was kept from acknowledging +and submitting to the truth, not by the intellectual difficulties which +he propounded as an excuse, but by his unwillingness to submit to the +moral demands which Christianity made upon him. At last there came one +great struggle, described in a passage from the 'Confessions' which is +given below; and Monica's hopes and prayers were answered in the +conversion of her son to the faith and obedience of Jesus Christ. On +Easter Day, 387, in the thirty-third year of his life, he was baptized, +an unsubstantiated tradition assigning to this occasion the composition +and first use of the _Te Deum_. His mother died at Ostia as they were +setting out for Africa; and he returned to his native land, with the +hope that he might there live a life of retirement and of simple +Christian obedience. But this might not be: on the occasion of +Augustine's visit to Hippo in 391, the bishop of that city persuaded him +to receive ordination to the priesthood and to remain with him as an +adviser; and four years later he was consecrated as colleague or +coadjutor in the episcopate. Thus he entered on a busy public life of +thirty-five years, which called for the exercise of all his powers as a +Christian, a metaphysician, a man of letters, a theologian, an +ecclesiastic, and an administrator. + +Into the details of that life it is impossible to enter here; it must +suffice to indicate some of the ways in which as a writer he gained and +still holds a high place in Western Christendom, having had an influence +which can be paralleled, from among uninspired men, only by that of +Aristotle. He maintained the unity of the Church, and its true breadth, +against the Donatists; he argued, as he so well could argue, against the +irreligion of the Manichaeans; when the great Pelagian heresy arose, he +defended the truth of the doctrine of divine grace as no one could have +done who had not learned by experience its power in the regeneration and +conversion of his own soul; he brought out from the treasures of Holy +Scripture ample lessons of truth and duty, in simple exposition and +exhortation; and in full treatises he stated and enforced the great +doctrines of Christianity. + +Augustine was not alone or chiefly the stern theologian whom men picture +to themselves when they are told that he was the Calvin of those early +days, or when they read from his voluminous and often illogical writings +quotations which have a hard sound. If he taught a stern doctrine of +predestinarianism, he taught also the great power of sacramental grace; +if he dwelt at times on the awfulness of the divine justice, he spoke +also from the depths of his experience of the power of the divine love; +and his influence on the ages has been rather that of the +'Confessions'--taking their key-note from the words of the first +chapter, "Thou, O Lord, hast made us for Thyself, and our heart is +unquiet until it find rest in Thee"--than that of the writings which +have earned for their author the foremost place among the Doctors of the +Western Church. But his greatest work, without any doubt, is the +treatise on the 'City of God.' The Roman empire, as Augustine's life +passed on, was hastening to its end. Moral and political declension had +doubtless been arrested by the good influence which had been brought to +bear upon it; but it was impossible to avert its fall. "Men's hearts," +as well among the heathen as among the Christians, were "failing them +for fear and for looking after those things that were coming on the +earth." And Christianity was called to meet the argument drawn from the +fact that the visible declension seemed to date from the time when the +new religion was introduced into the Roman world, and that the most +rapid decline had been from the time when it had been accepted as the +religion of the State. It fell to the Bishop of Hippo to write in reply +one of the greatest works ever written by a Christian. Eloquence and +learning, argument and irony, appeals to history and earnest entreaties, +are united to move enemies to acknowledge the truth and to strengthen +the faithful in maintaining it. The writer sets over against each other +the city of the world and the city of God, and in varied ways draws the +contrast between them; and while mourning over the ruin that is coming +upon the great city that had become a world-empire, he tells of the holy +beauty and enduring strength of "the city that hath the foundations." + +Apart from the interest attaching to the great subjects handled by St. +Augustine in his many works, and from the literary attractions of +writings which unite high moral earnestness and the use of a cultivated +rhetorical style, his works formed a model for Latin theologians as long +as that language continued to be habitually used by Western scholars; +and to-day both the spirit and the style of the great man have a wide +influence on the devotional and the controversial style of writers on +sacred subjects. + +He died at Hippo, August 28th, 430. + +[Illustration: signature] + +The selections are from the 'Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers,' +by permission of the Christian Literature Company. + + +THE GODLY SORROW THAT WORKETH REPENTANCE + +From the 'Confessions' + +Such was the story of Pontitianus: but thou, O Lord, while he was +speaking, didst turn me round towards myself, taking me from behind my +back, when I had placed myself, unwilling to observe myself; and setting +me before my face, that I might see how foul I was, how crooked and +defiled, bespotted and ulcerous. And I beheld and stood aghast; and +whither to flee from myself I found not. And if I sought to turn mine +eye from off myself, he went on with his relation, and thou didst again +set me over against myself, and thrusted me before my eyes, that I might +find out mine iniquity and hate it. I had known it, but made as though I +saw it not, winked at it, and forgot it. + +But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful affections I +heard of, that they had resigned themselves wholly to thee to be cured, +the more did I abhor myself when compared with them. For many of my +years (some twelve) had now run out with me since my nineteenth, when, +upon the reading of Cicero's 'Hortensius,' I was stirred to an earnest +love of wisdom; and still I was deferring to reject mere earthly +felicity and to give myself to search out that, whereof not the finding +only, but the very search, was to be preferred to the treasures and +kingdoms of the world, though already found, and to the pleasures of the +body, though spread around me at my will. But I, wretched, most +wretched, in the very beginning of my early youth, had begged chastity +of thee, and said, "Give me chastity and continency, only not yet." For +I feared lest thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon cure me of the +disease of concupiscence, which I wished to have satisfied, rather than +extinguished. And I had wandered through crooked ways in a sacrilegious +superstition, not indeed assured thereof, but as preferring it to the +others which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously. + +But when a deep consideration had, from the secret bottom of my soul, +drawn together and heaped up all my misery in the sight of my heart, +there arose a mighty storm, bringing a mighty shower of tears. And that +I might pour it forth wholly in its natural expressions, I rose from +Alypius: solitude was suggested to me as fitter for the business of +weeping; and I retired so far that even his presence could not be a +burden to me. Thus was it then with me, and he perceived something of +it; for something I suppose he had spoken, wherein the tones of my voice +appeared choked with weeping, and so had risen up. He then remained +where we were sitting, most extremely astonished. I cast myself down I +know not how, under a fig-tree, giving full vent to my tears; and the +floods of mine eyes gushed out, an acceptable sacrifice to thee. And, +not indeed in these words, yet to this purpose, spake I much unto +thee:--"And thou, O Lord, how long? how long, Lord, wilt thou be +angry--forever? Remember not our former iniquities," for I felt that I +was held by them. I sent up these sorrowful words: "How long? how long? +To-morrow and to-morrow? Why not now? why is there not this hour an end +to my uncleanness?" + + +CONSOLATION + +From the 'Confessions' + +So was I speaking, and weeping, in the most bitter contrition of my +heart, when lo! I heard from a neighboring house a voice, as of boy or +girl (I could not tell which), chanting and oft repeating, "Take up and +read; take up and read." Instantly my countenance altered, and I began +to think most intently whether any were wont in any kind of play to sing +such words, nor could I remember ever to have heard the like. So, +checking the torrent of my tears, I arose; interpreting it to be no +other than a command from God, to open the book and read the first +chapter I should find. Eagerly then I returned to the place where +Alypius was sitting; for there had I laid the volume of the Epistles +when I arose thence. I seized, opened, and in silence read that section +on which my eyes first fell:--"Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in +chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying; but put ye on the +Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfill the +lusts thereof." No further would I read; nor heeded I, for instantly at +the end of this sentence, by a light, as it were, of serenity infused +into my heart, all the darkness of doubt vanished away. + +_PAPYRUS_. + +Reduced facsimile of a Latin manuscript containing the + +SERMONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE. + +Sixth Century. In the National Library at Paris. + +A fine specimen of sixth-century writing upon sheets formed of two thin +layers of longitudinal strips of the stem or pith of the papyrus plant +pressed together at right angles to each other. + +[Illustration] + +Then putting my finger between (or some other mark), I shut the volume, +and with a calmed countenance, made it known to Alypius. And what was +wrought in him, which I know not, he thus shewed me. He asked to see +what I had read; I shewed him, and he looked even farther than I had +read, and I knew not what followed. This followed: "Him that is weak in +the faith, receive ye"; which he applied to himself and disclosed to me. +And by this admonition was he strengthened; and by a good resolution and +purpose, and most corresponding to his character, wherein he did always +far differ from me for the better, without any turbulent delay he joined +me. Thence we go to my mother: we tell her; she rejoiceth: we relate in +order how it took place; she leapeth for joy, and triumpheth and +blesseth thee, "who art able to do above all that we ask or think": for +she perceived that thou hadst given her more for me than she was wont to +beg by her pitiful and most sorrowful groanings. + + +THE FOES OF THE CITY + +From 'The City of God' + +Let these and similar answers (if any fuller and fitter answers can be +found) be given to their enemies by the redeemed family of the Lord +Christ, and by the pilgrim city of the King Christ. But let this city +bear in mind that among her enemies lie hid those who are destined to be +fellow-citizens, that she may not think it a fruitless labor to bear +what they inflict as enemies, till they become confessors of the faith. +So also, as long as she is a stranger in the world, the city of God has +in her communion, and bound to her by the sacraments, some who shall not +eternally dwell in the lot of the saints. Of these, some are not now +recognized; others declare themselves, and do not hesitate to make +common cause with our enemies in murmuring against God, whose +sacramental badge they wear. These men you may see to-day thronging the +churches with us, to-morrow crowding the theatres with the godless. But +we have the less reason to despair of the reclamation of even such +persons, if among our most declared enemies there are now some, unknown +to themselves, who are destined to become our friends. In truth, these +two cities are entangled together in this world, and intermingled until +the last judgment shall effect their separation. I now proceed to speak, +as God shall help me, of the rise and progress and end of these two +cities; and what I write, I write for the glory of the city of God, that +being placed in comparison with the other, it may shine with a +brighter lustre. + + +THE PRAISE OF GOD + +From 'The City of God' + +Wherefore it may very well be, and it is perfectly credible, that we +shall in the future world see the material forms of the new heavens and +the new earth, in such a way that we shall most distinctly recognize God +everywhere present, and governing all things, material as well as +spiritual; and shall see Him, not as we now understand the invisible +things of God, by the things that are made, and see Him darkly as in a +mirror and in part, and rather by faith than by bodily vision of +material appearances, but by means of the bodies which we shall wear and +which we shall see wherever we turn our eyes. As we do not believe, but +see, that the living men around us who are exercising the functions of +life are alive, although we cannot see their life without their bodies, +but see it most distinctly by means of their bodies, so, wherever we +shall look with the spiritual eyes of our future bodies, we shall also, +by means of bodily substances, behold God, though a spirit, ruling all +things. Either, therefore, the eyes shall possess some quality similar +to that of the mind, by which they shall be able to discern spiritual +things, and among them God,--a supposition for which it is difficult or +even impossible to find any support in Scripture,--or what is more easy +to comprehend, God will be so known by us, and so much before us, that +we shall see Him by the spirit in ourselves, in one another, in Himself, +in the new heavens and the new earth, in every created thing that shall +then exist; and that also by the body we shall see Him in every bodily +thing which the keen vision of the eye of the spiritual body shall +reach. Our thoughts also shall be visible to all, for then shall be +fulfilled the words of the Apostle, "Judge nothing before the time, +until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of +darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts; and then +shall every man have praise of God." How great shall be that felicity, +which shall be tainted with no evil, which shall lack no good, and which +shall afford leisure for the praises of God, who shall be all in all! +For I know not what other employment there can be where no weariness +shall slacken activity, nor any want stimulate to labor. I am admonished +also by the sacred song, in which I read or hear the words, "Blessed are +they that dwell in Thy house; they will be alway praising Thee." + + +A PRAYER + +From 'The Trinity' + +O Lord our God, directing my purpose by the rule of faith, so far as I +have been able, so far as Thou hast made me able, I have sought Thee, +and have desired to see with my understanding what I have believed; and +I have argued and labored much. O Lord my God, my only hope, hearken to +me, lest through weariness I be unwilling to seek Thee, but that I may +always ardently seek Thy face. Do Thou give me strength to seek, who +hast led me to find Thee, and hast given the hope of finding Thee more +and more. My strength and my weakness are in Thy sight; preserve my +strength and heal my weakness. My knowledge and my ignorance are in Thy +sight; when Thou hast opened to me, receive me as I enter; when Thou +hast closed, open to me as I knock. May I remember Thee, understand +Thee, love Thee. Increase these things in me, until Thou renew me +wholly. But oh, that I might speak only in preaching Thy word and in +praising Thee. But many are my thoughts, such as Thou knowest, "thoughts +of man, that are vain." Let them not so prevail in me, that anything in +my acts should proceed from them; but at least that my judgment and my +conscience be safe from them under Thy protection. When the wise man +spake of Thee in his book, which is now called by the special name of +Ecclesiasticus, "We speak," he says, "much, and yet come short; and in +sum of words, He is all." When therefore we shall have come to Thee, +these very many things that we speak, and yet come short, shall cease; +and Thou, as One, shalt remain "all in all." And we shall say one thing +without end, in praising Thee as One, ourselves also made one in Thee. O +Lord, the one God, God the Trinity, whatever I have said in these books +that is of Thine, may they acknowledge who are Thine; if I have said +anything of my own, may it be pardoned both by Thee and by those who are +Thine. Amen. + + The three immediately preceding citations, from 'A Select + Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the + Christian Church, First Series,' are reprinted by permission + of the Christian Literature Company, New York. + + + + +MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS + +(121-180 A.D.) + +BY JAMES FRASER GLUCK + + +Marcus Aurelius, one of the most illustrious emperors of Rome, and, +according to Canon Farrar, "the noblest of pagan emperors", was born at +Rome April 20th, A.D. 121, and died at Vindobona--the modern +Vienna--March 17th, A.D. 180, in the twentieth year of his reign and the +fifty-ninth year of his age. + +His right to an honored place in literature depends upon a small volume +written in Greek, and usually called 'The Meditations of Marcus +Aurelius.' The work consists of mere memoranda, notes, disconnected +reflections and confessions, and also of excerpts from the Emperor's +favorite authors. It was evidently a mere private diary or note-book +written in great haste, which readily accounts for its repetitions, its +occasional obscurity, and its frequently elliptical style of expression. +In its pages the Emperor gives his aspirations, and his sorrow for his +inability to realize them in his daily life; he expresses his tentative +opinions concerning the problems of creation, life, and death; his +reflections upon the deceitfulness of riches, pomp, and power, and his +conviction of the vanity of all things except the performance of duty. +The work contains what has been called by a distinguished scholar "the +common creed of wise men, from which all other views may well seem mere +deflections on the side of an unwarranted credulity or of an exaggerated +despair." From the pomp and circumstance of state surrounding him, from +the manifold cares of his exalted rank, from the tumult of protracted +wars, the Emperor retired into the pages of this book as into the +sanctuary of his soul, and there found in sane and rational reflection +the peace that the world could not give and could never take away. The +tone and temper of the work is unique among books of its class. It is +sweet yet dignified, courageous yet resigned, philosophical and +speculative, yet above all, intensely practical. + +Through all the ages from the time when the Emperor Diocletian +prescribed a distinct ritual for Aurelius as one of the gods; from the +time when the monks of the Middle Ages treasured the 'Meditations' as +carefully as they kept their manuscripts of the Gospels, the work has +been recognized as the precious life-blood of a master spirit. An +adequate English translation would constitute to-day a most valuable +_vade mecum_ of devotional feeling and of religious inspiration. It +would prove a strong moral tonic to hundreds of minds now sinking into +agnosticism or materialism. + +[Illustration: MARCUS AURELIUS] + +The distinguished French writer M. Martha observes that in the +'Meditations of Marcus Aurelius' "we find a pure serenity, sweetness, +and docility to the commands of God, which before him were unknown, and +which Christian grace has alone surpassed. One cannot read the book +without thinking of the sadness of Pascal and the gentleness of Fenelon. +We must pause before this soul, so lofty and so pure, to contemplate +ancient virtue in its softest brilliancy, to see the moral delicacy to +which profane doctrines have attained." + +Those in the past who have found solace in its pages have not been +limited to any one country, creed, or condition in life. The +distinguished Cardinal Francis Barberini the elder occupied his last +years in translating the 'Meditations' into Italian; so that, as he +said, "the thoughts of the pious pagan might quicken the faith of the +faithful." He dedicated the work to his own soul, so that it "might +blush deeper than the scarlet of the cardinal robe as it looked upon the +nobility of the pagan." The venerable and learned English scholar Thomas +Gataker, of the religious faith of Cromwell and Milton, spent the last +years of his life in translating the work into Latin as the noblest +preparation for death. The book was the constant companion of Captain +John Smith, the discoverer of Virginia, who found in it "sweet +refreshment in his seasons of despondency." Jean Paul Richter speaks of +it as a vital help in "the deepest floods of adversity." The French +translator Pierron says that it exalted his soul into a serene region, +above all petty cares and rivalries. Montesquieu declares, in speaking +of Marcus Aurelius, "He produces such an effect upon our minds that we +think better of ourselves, because he inspires us with a better opinion +of mankind." The great German historian Niebuhr says of the Emperor, as +revealed in this work, "I know of no other man who combined such +unaffected kindness, mildness, and humility with such conscientiousness +and severity toward himself." Renan declares the book to be "a veritable +gospel. It will never grow old, for it asserts no dogma. Though science +were to destroy God and the soul, the 'Meditations of Marcus Aurelius' +would remain forever young and immortally true." The eminent English +critic Matthew Arnold was found on the morning after the death of his +eldest son engaged in the perusal of his favorite Marcus Aurelius, +wherein alone he found comfort and consolation. + +The 'Meditations of Marcus Aurelius' embrace not only moral reflections; +they include, as before remarked, speculations upon the origin and +evolution of the universe and of man. They rest upon a philosophy. This +philosophy is that of the Stoic school as broadly distinguished from the +Epicurean. Stoicism, at all times, inculcated the supreme virtues of +moderation and resignation; the subjugation of corporeal desires; the +faithful performance of duty; indifference to one's own pain and +suffering, and the disregard of material luxuries. With these principles +there was, originally, in the Stoic philosophy conjoined a considerable +body of logic, cosmogony, and paradox. But in Marcus Aurelius these +doctrines no longer stain the pure current of eternal truth which ever +flowed through the history of Stoicism. It still speculated about the +immortality of the soul and the government of the universe by a +supernatural Intelligence, but on these subjects proposed no dogma and +offered no final authoritative solution. It did not forbid man to hope +for a future life, but it emphasized the duties of the present life. On +purely rational grounds it sought to show men that they should always +live nobly and heroicly, and how best to do so. It recognized the +significance of death, and attempted to teach how men could meet it +under any and all circumstances with perfect equanimity. + + * * * * * + +Marcus Aurelius was descended from an illustrious line which tradition +declared extended to the good Numa, the second King of Rome. In the +descendant Marcus were certainly to be found, with a great increment of +many centuries of noble life, all the virtues of his illustrious +ancestor. Doubtless the cruel persecutions of the infamous Emperors who +preceded Hadrian account for the fact that the ancestors of Aurelius +left the imperial city and found safety in Hispania Baetica, where in a +town called Succubo--not far from the present city of Cordova--the +Emperor's great-grandfather, Annius Verus, was born. From Spain also +came the family of the Emperor Hadrian, who was an intimate friend of +Annius Verus. The death of the father of Marcus Aurelius when the lad +was of tender years led to his adoption by his grandfather and +subsequently by Antoninus Pius. By Antoninus he was subsequently named +as joint heir to the Imperial dignity with Commodus, the son of Aelius +Caesar, who had previously been adopted by Hadrian. + +From his earliest youth Marcus was distinguished for his sincerity and +truthfulness. His was a docile and a serious nature. "Hadrian's bad and +sinful habits left him," says Niebuhr, "when he gazed on the sweetness +of that innocent child. Punning on the boy's paternal name of _Verus_, +he called him _Verissimus_, 'the _most_ true.'" Among the many statues +of Marcus extant is one representing him at the tender age of eight +years offering sacrifice. He was even then a priest of Mars. It was the +hand of Marcus alone that threw the crown so carefully and skillfully +that it invariably alighted upon the head of the statue of the god. The +entire ritual he knew by heart. The great Emperor Antoninus Pius lived +in the most simple and unostentatious manner; yet even this did not +satisfy the exacting, lofty spirit of Marcus. At twelve years of age he +began to practice all the austerities of Stoicism. He became a veritable +ascetic. He ate most sparingly; slept little, and when he did so it was +upon a bed of boards. Only the repeated entreaties of his mother induced +him to spread a few skins upon his couch. His health was seriously +affected for a time; and it was, perhaps, to this extreme privation that +his subsequent feebleness was largely due. His education was of the +highest order of excellence. His tutors, like Nero's, were the most +distinguished teachers of the age; but unlike Nero, the lad was in every +way worthy of his instructors. His letters to his dearly beloved teacher +Fronto are still extant, and in a very striking and charming way they +illustrate the extreme simplicity of life in the imperial household in +the villa of Antoninus Pius at Lorium by the sea. They also indicate the +lad's deep devotion to his studies and the sincerity of his love for his +relatives and friends. + +When his predecessor and adoptive father Antoninus felt the approach of +death, he gave to the tribune who asked him for the watchword for the +night the reply "Equanimity," directed that the golden statue of Fortune +that always stood in the Emperor's chamber be transferred to that of +Marcus Aurelius, and then turned his face and passed away as peacefully +as if he had fallen asleep. The watchword of the father became the +life-word of the son, who pronounced upon that father in the +'Meditations' one of the noblest eulogies ever written. "We should," +says Renan, "have known nothing of Antoninus if Marcus Aurelius had not +handed down to us that exquisite portrait of his adopted father, in +which he seems, by reason of humility, to have applied himself to paint +an image superior to what he himself was. Antoninus resembled a Christ +who would not have had an evangel; Marcus Aurelius a Christ who would +have written his own." + + * * * * * + +It would be impossible here to detail even briefly all the manifold +public services rendered by Marcus Aurelius to the Empire during his +reign of twenty years. Among his good works were these: the +establishment, upon eternal foundation, of the noble fabric of the Civil +Law--the prototype and basis of Justinian's task; the founding of +schools for the education of poor children; the endowment of hospitals +and homes for orphans of both sexes; the creation of trust companies to +receive and distribute legacies and endowments; the just government of +the provinces; the complete reform of the system of collecting taxes; +the abolition of the cruelty of the criminal laws and the mitigation of +sentences unnecessarily severe; the regulation of gladiatorial +exhibitions; the diminution of the absolute power possessed by fathers +over their children and of masters over their slaves; the admission of +women to equal rights to succession to property from their children; the +rigid suppression of spies and informers; and the adoption of the +principle that merit, as distinguished from rank or political +friendship, alone justified promotion in the public service. + +But the greatest reform was the reform in the Imperial Dignity itself, +as exemplified in the life and character of the Emperor. It is this fact +which gives to the 'Meditations' their distinctive value. The infinite +charm, the tenderness and sweetness of their moral teachings, and their +broad humanity, are chiefly noteworthy because the Emperor himself +practiced in his daily life the principles of which he speaks, and +because tenderness and sweetness, patience and pity, suffused his daily +conduct and permeated his actions. The horrible cruelties of the reigns +of Nero and Domitian seemed only awful dreams under the benignant rule +of Marcus Aurelius. + +It is not surprising that the deification of a deceased emperor, usually +regarded by Senate and people as a hollow mockery, became a veritable +fact upon the death of Marcus Aurelius. He was not regarded in any sense +as mortal. All men said he had but returned to his heavenly place among +the immortal gods. As his body passed, in the pomp of an imperial +funeral, to its last resting-place, the tomb of Hadrian,--the modern +Castle of St. Angelo at Rome,--thousands invoked the divine blessing of +Antoninus. His memory was sacredly cherished. His portrait was preserved +as an inspiration in innumerable homes. His statue was almost +universally given an honored place among the household gods. And all +this continued during successive generations of men. + + * * * * * + +Marcus Aurelius has been censured for two acts: the first, the massacre +of the Christians which took place during his reign; the second, the +selection of his son Commodus as his successor. Of the massacre of the +Christians it may be said, that when the conditions surrounding the +Emperor are once properly understood, no just cause for condemnation of +his course remains. A prejudice against the sect was doubtless acquired +by him through the teachings of his dearly beloved instructor and friend +Fronto. In the writings of the revered Epictetus he found severe +condemnation of the Christians as fanatics. Stoicism enjoined upon men +obedience to the law, endurance of evil conditions, and patience under +misfortunes. The Christians openly defied the laws; they struck the +images of the gods, they scoffed at the established religion and its +ministers. They welcomed death; they invited it. To Marcus Aurelius, as +he says in his 'Meditations,' death had no terrors. The wise man stood, +like the trained soldier, ready to be called into action, ready to +depart from life when the Supreme Ruler called him; but it was also, +according to the Stoic, no less the duty of a man to remain until he was +called, and it certainly was not his duty to invite destruction by abuse +of all other religions and by contempt for the distinctive deities of +the Roman faith. The Roman State was tolerant of all religions so long +as they were tolerant of others. Christianity was intolerant of all +other religions; it condemned them all. In persecuting what he regarded +as a "pernicious sect" the Emperor regarded himself only as the +conservator of the peace and the welfare of the realm. The truth is, +that Marcus Aurelius enacted no new laws on the subject of the +Christians. He even lessened the dangers to which they were exposed. On +this subject one of the Fathers of the Church, Tertullian, bears +witness. He says in his address to the Roman officials:--"Consult your +annals, and you will find that the princes who have been cruel to us are +those whom it was held an honor to have as persecutors. On the contrary, +of all princes who have known human and Divine law, name one of them who +has persecuted the Christians. We might even cite one of them who +declared himself their protector,--the wise Marcus Aurelius. If he did +not openly revoke the edicts against our brethren, he destroyed the +effect of them by the severe penalties he instituted against their +accusers." This statement would seem to dispose effectually of the +charge of cruel persecution brought so often against the kindly and +tender-hearted Emperor. + +Of the appointment of Commodus as his successor, it may be said that the +paternal heart hoped against hope for filial excellence. Marcus Aurelius +believed, as clearly appears from many passages in the 'Meditations,' +that men did not do evil willingly but through ignorance; and that when +the exceeding beauty of goodness had been fully disclosed to them, the +depravity of evil conduct would appear no less clearly. The Emperor who, +when the head of his rebellious general was brought to him, grieved +because that general had not lived to be forgiven; the ruler who burned +unread all treasonable correspondence, would not, nay, could not believe +in the existence of such an inhuman monster as Commodus proved himself +to be. The appointment of Commodus was a calamity of the most terrific +character; but it testifies in trumpet tones to the nobility of the +Emperor's heart, the sincerity of his own belief in the triumph of right +and justice. + +The volume of the 'Meditations' is the best mirror of the Emperor's +soul. Therein will be found expressed delicately but unmistakably much +of the sorrow that darkened his life. As the book proceeds the shadows +deepen, and in the latter portion his loneliness is painfully apparent. +Yet he never lost hope or faith, or failed for one moment in his duty as +a man, a philosopher, and an Emperor. In the deadly marshes and in the +great forests which stretched beside the Danube, in his mortal sickness, +in the long nights when weakness and pain rendered sleep impossible, it +is not difficult to imagine him in his tent, writing, by the light of +his solitary lamp, the immortal thoughts which alone soothed his soul; +thoughts which have out-lived the centuries--not perhaps wholly by +chance--to reveal to men in nations then unborn, on continents whose +very existence was then unknown, the Godlike qualities of one of the +noblest of the sons of men. + + * * * * * + +The best literal translation of the work into English thus far made is +that of George Long. It is published by Little, Brown & Co. of Boston. A +most admirable work, 'The Life of Marcus Aurelius,' by Paul Barron +Watson, published by Harper & Brothers, New York, will repay careful +reading. Other general works to be consulted are as follows:--'Seekers +After God,' by Rev. F.W. Farrar, Macmillan & Co. (1890); and 'Classical +Essays,' by F.W.H. Myers, Macmillan & Co. (1888). Both of these contain +excellent articles upon the Emperor. Consult also Renan's 'History of +the Origins of Christianity,' Book vii., Marcus Aurelius, translation +published by Mathieson & Co. (London, 1896); 'Essay on Marcus Aurelius' +by Matthew Arnold, in his 'Essays in Criticism,' Macmillan & Co. Further +information may also be had in Montesquieu's 'Decadence of the Romans,' +Sismondi's 'Fall of the Roman Empire,' and Gibbon's 'Decline and Fall of +the Roman Empire.' + +[Illustration: Signature: James F. Gluck] + + +EXCERPTS FROM THE 'MEDITATIONS' + +THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN + +Begin thy morning with these thoughts: I shall meet the meddler, the +ingrate, the scorner, the hypocrite, the envious man, the cynic. These +men are such because they know not to discern the difference between +good and evil. But I know that Goodness is Beauty and that Evil is +Loathsomeness: I know that the real nature of the evil-doer is akin to +mine, not only physically but in a unity of intelligence and in +participation in the Divine Nature. Therefore I know that I cannot be +harmed by such persons, nor can they thrust upon me what is base. I +know, too, that I should not be angry with my kinsmen nor hate them, +because we are all made to work together fitly like the feet, the hands, +the eyelids, the rows of the upper and the lower teeth. To be at strife +one with another is therefore contrary to our real nature; and to be +angry with one another, to despise one another, _is_ to be at strife one +with another. (Book ii,Sec. I.) + +Fashion thyself to the circumstances of thy lot. The men whom Fate hath +made thy comrades here, love; and love them in sincerity and in truth. +(Book vi., Sec. 39.) + +This is distinctive of men,--to love those who do wrong. And this thou +shalt do if thou forget not that they are thy kinsmen, and that they do +wrong through ignorance and not through design; that ere long thou and +they will be dead; and more than all, that the evil-doer hath really +done thee no evil, since he hath left thy conscience unharmed. (Book +viii., Sec.22.) + + +THE SUPREME NOBILITY OF DUTY + +As A Roman and as a man, strive steadfastly every moment to do thy duty, +with dignity, sincerity, and loving-kindness, freely and justly, and +freed from all disquieting thought concerning any other thing. And from +such thought thou wilt be free if every act be done as though it were +thy last, putting away from thee slothfulness, all loathing to do what +Reason bids thee, all dissimulation, selfishness, and discontent with +thine appointed lot. Behold, then, how few are the things needful for a +life which will flow onward like a quiet stream, blessed even as the +life of the gods. For he who so lives, fulfills their will. (Book +ii., Sec.5.) + +So long as thou art doing thy duty, heed not warmth nor cold, drowsiness +nor wakefulness, life, nor impending death; nay, even in the very act of +death, which is indeed only one of the acts of life, it suffices to do +well what then remains to be done. (Book vi., Sec. 2.) + +I strive to do my duty; to all other considerations I am indifferent, +whether they be material things or unreasoning and ignorant people. +(Book vi., Sec.22.) + + +THE FUTURE LIFE. IMMORTALITY + +This very moment thou mayest die. Think, act, as if this were now to +befall thee. Yet fear not death. If there are gods they will do thee no +evil. If there are not gods, or if they care not for the welfare of men, +why should I care to live in a Universe that is devoid of Divine beings +or of any providential care? But, verily, there are Divine beings, and +they do concern themselves with the welfare of men; and they have given +unto him all power not to fall into any real evil. If, indeed, what men +call misfortunes were really evils, then from these things also, man +would have been given the power to free himself. But--thou sayest--are +not death, dishonor, pain, really evils? Reflect that if they were, it +is incredible that the Ruler of the Universe has, through ignorance, +overlooked these things, or has not had the power or the skill to +prevent them; and that thereby what is real evil befalls good and bad +alike. For true it is that life and death, honor and dishonor, pain and +pleasure, come impartially to the good and to the bad. But none of these +things can affect our lives if they do not affect our true selves. Now +our real selves they do not affect either for better or for worse; and +therefore such things are not really good or evil. (Book ii., Sec.11.) + + * * * * * + +If our spirits live, how does Space suffice for all during all the ages? +Well, how does the earth contain the bodies of those who have been +buried therein during all the ages? In the latter case, the +decomposition and--after a certain period--the dispersion of the bodies +already buried, affords room for other bodies; so, in the former case, +the souls which pass into Space, after a certain period are purged of +their grosser elements and become ethereal, and glow with the glory of +flame as they meet and mingle with the Creative Energy of the world. And +thereby there is room for other souls which in their turn pass into +Space. This, then, is the explanation that may be given, if souls +continue to exist at all. + +Moreover, in thinking of all the bodies which the earth contains, we +must have in mind not only the bodies which are buried therein, but also +the vast number of animals which are the daily food of ourselves and +also of the entire animal creation itself. Yet these, too, Space +contains; for on the one hand they are changed into blood which becomes +part of the bodies that are buried in the earth, and on the other hand +these are changed into the ultimate elements of fire or air. (Book +iv., Sec.21.) + +I am spirit and body: neither will pass into nothingness, since neither +came therefrom; and therefore every part of me, though changed in form, +will continue to be a part of the Universe, and that part will change +into another part, and so on through all the ages. And therefore, +through such changes I myself exist; and, in like manner, those who +preceded me and those who will follow me will exist forever,--a +conclusion equally true though the Universe itself be dissipated at +prescribed cycles of time. (Book v., Sec. 13.) + + * * * * * + +How can it be that the gods, who have clothed the Universe with such +beauty and ordered all things with such loving-kindness for the welfare +of man, have neglected this alone, that the best men--the men who walked +as it were with the Divine Being, and who, by their acts of +righteousness and by their reverent service, dwelt ever in his +presence--should never live again when once they have died? If this be +really true, then be satisfied that it is best that it should be so, +else it would have been otherwise ordained. For whatever is right and +just is possible; and therefore, if it were in accord with the will of +the Divine Being that we should live after death--so it would have been. +But because it is otherwise,--if indeed it be otherwise,--rest thou +satisfied that this also is just and right. + +Moreover, is it not manifest to thee that in inquiring so curiously +concerning these things, thou art questioning God himself as to what is +right, and that this thou wouldst not do didst thou not believe in his +supreme goodness and wisdom? Therefore, since in these we believe, we +may also believe that in the government of the Universe nothing that is +right and just has been overlooked or forgotten. (Book xii., Sec. 5.) + + +THE UNIVERSAL BEAUTY OF THE WORLD + +To him who hath a true insight into the real nature of the Universe, +every change in everything therein that is a part thereof seems +appropriate and delightful. The bread that is over-baked so that it +cracks and bursts asunder hath not the form desired by the baker; yet +none the less it hath a beauty of its own, and is most tempting to the +palate. Figs bursting in their ripeness, olives near even unto decay, +have yet in their broken ripeness a distinctive beauty. Shocks of corn +bending down in their fullness, the lion's mane, the wild boar's mouth +all flecked with foam, and many other things of the same kind, though +perhaps not pleasing in and of themselves, yet as necessary parts of the +Universe created by the Divine Being they add to the beauty of the +Universe, and inspire a feeling of pleasure. So that if a man hath +appreciation of and an insight into the purpose of the Universe, there +is scarcely a portion thereof that will not to him in a sense seem +adapted to give delight. In this sense the open jaws of wild beasts will +appear no less pleasing than their prototypes in the realm of art. Even +in old men and women he will be able to perceive a distinctive maturity +and seemliness, while the winsome bloom of youth he can contemplate with +eyes free from lascivious desire. And in like manner it will be with +very many things which to every one may not seem pleasing, but which +will certainly rejoice the man who is a true student of Nature and her +works. (Book iii., Sec. 2.) + + +THE GOOD MAN + +In the mind of him who is pure and good will be found neither corruption +nor defilement nor any malignant taint. Unlike the actor who leaves the +stage before his part is played, the life of such a man is complete +whenever death may come. He is neither cowardly nor presuming; not +enslaved to life nor indifferent to its duties; and in him is found +nothing worthy of condemnation nor that which putteth to shame. (Book +iii., Sec. 8.) + +Test by a trial how excellent is the life of the good man;--the man who +rejoices at the portion given him in the universal lot and abides +therein, content; just in all his ways and kindly minded toward all men. +(Book iv., Sec. 25.) + +This is moral perfection: to live each day as though it were the last; +to be tranquil, sincere, yet not indifferent to one's fate. (Book +vii., Sec. 69.) + + +THE BREVITY OF LIFE + +Cast from thee all other things and hold fast to a few precepts such as +these: forget not that every man's real life is but the present +moment,--an indivisible point of time,--and that all the rest of his +life hath either passed away or is uncertain. Short, then, the time that +any man may live; and small the earthly niche wherein he hath his home; +and short is longest fame,--a whisper passed from race to race of dying +men, ignorant concerning themselves, and much less really knowing thee, +who died so long ago. (Book iii., Sec. 10.) + + +VANITY OF LIFE + +Many are the doctors who have knit their brows over their patients and +now are dead themselves; many are the astrologers who in their day +esteemed themselves renowned in foretelling the death of others, yet now +they too are dead. Many are the philosophers who have held countless +discussions upon death and immortality, and yet themselves have shared +the common lot; many the valiant warriors who have slain their thousands +and yet have themselves been slain by Death; many are the rulers and the +kings of the earth, who, in their arrogance, have exercised over others +the power of life or death as though they were themselves beyond the +hazard of Fate, and yet themselves have, in their turn, felt Death's +remorseless power. Nay, even great cities--Helice, Pompeii, +Herculaneum--have, so to speak, died utterly. Recall, one by one, the +names of thy friends who have died; how many of these, having closed the +eyes of their kinsmen, have in a brief time been buried also. To +conclude: keep ever before thee the brevity and vanity of human life and +all that is therein; for man is conceived to-day, and to-morrow will be +a mummy or ashes. Pass, therefore, this moment of life in accord with +the will of Nature, and depart in peace: even as does the olive, which +in its season, fully ripe, drops to the ground, blessing its mother, +the earth, which bore it, and giving thanks to the tree which put it +forth. (Book iv., Sec. 48.) + +A simple yet potent help to enable one to despise Death is to recall +those who, in their greed for life, tarried the longest here. Wherein +had they really more than those who were cut off untimely in their +bloom? Together, at last, somewhere, they all repose in death. +Cadicianus, Fabius, Julianus, Lepidus, or any like them, who bore forth +so many to the tomb, were, in their turn, borne thither also. Their +longer span was but trivial! Think too, of the cares thereof, of the +people with whom it was passed, of the infirmities of the flesh! All +vanity! Think of the infinite deeps of Time in the past, of the infinite +depths to be! And in that vast profound of Time, what difference is +there between a life of three centuries and the three days' life of a +little child! (Book iv., Sec. 50.) + + * * * * * + +Think of the Universe of matter!--an atom thou! Think of the eternity of +Time--thy predestined time but a moment! Reflect upon the great plan of +Fate--how trivial this destiny of thine! (Book v., Sec. 24.) + + * * * * * + +All things are enveloped in such darkness that they have seemed utterly +incomprehensible to those who have led the philosophic life--and those +too not a few in number, nor of ill-repute. Nay, even to the Stoics the +course of affairs seems an enigma. Indeed, every conclusion reached +seems tentative; for where is the man to be found who does not change +his conclusions? Think too of the things men most desire,--riches, +reputation, and the like,--and consider how ephemeral they are, how +vain! A vile wretch, a common strumpet, or a thief, may possess them. +Then think of the habits and manners of those about thee--how difficult +it is to endure the least offensive of such people--nay how difficult, +most of all, it is to endure one's self! + +Amidst such darkness, then, and such unworthiness, amidst this eternal +change, with all temporal things and even Time itself passing away, with +all things moving in eternal motion, I cannot imagine what, in all this, +is worthy of a man's esteem or serious effort. (Book v., Sec. 10.) + + +DEATH + +To cease from bodily activity, to end all efforts of will and of +thought, to stop all these forever, is no evil. For do but contemplate +thine own life as a child, a growing lad, a youth, an old man: the +change to each of these periods was the death of the period which +preceded it. Why then fear the death of all these--the death of thyself? +Think too of thy life under the care of thy grandfather, then of thy +life under the care of thy mother, then under the care of thy father, +and so on with every change that hath occurred in thy life, and then ask +thyself concerning any change that hath yet to be, Is there anything to +fear? And then shall all fear, even of the great change,--the change of +death itself,--vanish and flee away. (Book ix., Sec.21.) + + +FAME + +Contemplate men as from some lofty height. How innumerable seem the +swarms of men! How infinite their pomps and ceremonies! How they wander +to and fro upon the deep in fair weather and in storm! How varied their +fate in their births, in their lives, in their deaths! Think of the +lives of those who lived long ago, of those who shall follow thee, of +those who now live in uncivilized lands who have not even heard of thy +name, and, of those who have heard it, how many will soon forget it; of +how many there are who now praise thee who will soon malign thee,--and +thence conclude the vanity of fame, glory, reputation. (Book ix., Sec.30.) + + +PRAYER + +The gods are all-powerful or they are not. If they are not, why pray to +them at all? If they are, why dost thou not pray to them to remove from +thee all desire and all fear, rather than to ask from them the things +thou longest for, or the removal of those things of which thou art in +fear? For if the gods can aid men at all, surely they will grant this +request. Wilt thou say that the removal of all fear and of all desire is +within thine own power? If so, is it not better, then, to use the +strength the gods have given, rather than in a servile and fawning way +to long for those things which our will cannot obtain? And who hath +said to thee that the gods will not _strengthen_ thy will? I say unto +thee, begin to pray that this may come to pass, and thou shalt see what +shall befall thee. One man prays that he may enjoy a certain woman: let +thy prayer be to not have even the desire so to do. Another man prays +that he may not be forced to do his duty: let thy prayer be that thou +mayest not even desire to be relieved of its performance. Another man +prays that he may not lose his beloved son: let thy prayer be that even +the fear of losing him may be taken away. Let these be thy prayers, and +thou shalt see what good will befall thee. (Book ix., Sec.41.) + + +FAITH + +The Universe is either a chaos or a fortuitous aggregation and +dispersion of atoms; or else it is builded in order and harmony and +ruled by Wisdom. If then it is the former, why should one wish to tarry +in a hap-hazard disordered mass? Why should I be concerned except to +know how soon I may cease to be? Why should I be disquieted concerning +what I do, since whatever I may do, the elements of which I am composed +will at last, at last be scattered? But if the latter thought be true, +then I reverence the Divine One; I trust; I possess my soul in peace. +(Book vi., Sec. 10.) + + +PAIN + +If pain cannot be borne, we die. If it continue a long time it becomes +endurable; and the mind, retiring into itself, can keep its own +tranquillity and the true self be still unharmed. If the body feel the +pain, let the body make its moan. (Book vii., Sec.30.) + + +LOVE AND FORGIVENESS FOR THE EVIL-DOER + +If it be in thy power, teach men to do better. If not, remember it is +always in thy power to forgive. The gods are so merciful to those who +err, that for some purposes they grant their aid to such men by +conferring upon them health, riches, and honor. What prevents thee from +doing likewise? (Book ix., Sec.11.) + + +ETERNAL CHANGE THE LAW OF THE UNIVERSE + +Think, often, of how swiftly all things pass away and are no more--the +works of Nature and the works of man. The substance of the +Universe--matter--is like unto a river that flows on forever. All things +are not only in a constant state of change, but they are the cause of +constant and infinite change in other things. Upon a narrow ledge thou +standest! Behind thee, the bottomless abyss of the Past! In front of +thee, the Future that will swallow up all things that now are! Over what +things, then, in this present life, wilt thou, O foolish man, be +disquieted or exalted--making thyself wretched; seeing that they can vex +thee only for a time--a brief, brief time! (Book v., Sec.23.) + + +THE PERFECT LIBERTY OF THE GOOD MAN + +Peradventure men may curse thee, torture thee, kill thee; yet can all +these things not prevent thee from keeping at all times thy thoughts +pure, considerate, sober, and just. If one should stand beside a limpid +stream and cease not to revile it, would the spring stop pouring forth +its refreshing waters? Nay, if such an one should even cast into the +stream mud and mire, would not the stream quickly scatter it, and so +bear it away that not even a trace would remain? How then wilt thou be +able to have within thee not a mere well that may fail thee, but a +fountain that shall never cease to flow? By wonting thyself every moment +to independence in judgment, joined together with serenity of thought +and simplicity in act and bearing. (Book viii., Sec.51.) + + +THE HARMONY AND UNITY OF THE UNIVERSE + +O divine Spirit of the Universe, Thy will, Thy wish is mine! Calmly I +wait Thy appointed times, which cannot come too early or too late! Thy +providences are all fruitful to me! Thou art the source, Thou art the +stay, Thou art the end of all things. The poet says of his native city, +"Dear city of Cecrops"; and shall I not say of the Universe, "Beloved +City of God"? (Book iv., Sec.23.) + +Either there is a predestined order in the Universe, or else it is mere +aggregation, fortuitous yet not without a certain kind of order. For how +within thyself can a certain system exist and yet the entire Universe be +chaos? And especially when in the Universe all things, though separate +and divided, yet work together in unity? (Book iv., Sec.27.) + +Think always of the Universe as one living organism, composed of one +material substance and one soul. Observe how all things are the product +of a single conception--the conception of a living organism. Observe how +one force is the cause of the motion of all things: that all existing +things are the concurrent causes of all that is to be--the eternal warp +and woof of the ever-weaving web of existence. (Book iv., Sec.40.) + + +THE CONDUCT OF LIFE + +Country houses, retreats in the mountains or by the sea--these things +men seek out for themselves; and often thou, too, dost most eagerly +desire such things. But this does but betoken the greatest ignorance; +for thou art able, when thou desirest, to retreat into thyself. No +otherwhere can a man find a retreat more quiet and free from care than +in his own soul; and most of all, when he hath such rules of conduct +that if faithfully remembered, they will give to him perfect +equanimity,--for equanimity is naught else than a mind harmoniously +disciplined. Cease not then to betake thyself to this retreat, there to +refresh thyself. Let thy rules of conduct be few and well settled; so +that when thou hast thought thereon, straightway they will suffice to +thoroughly purify the soul that possesses them, and to send thee back, +restless no more, to the things to the which thou must return. With what +indeed art thou disquieted? With the wickedness of men? Meditate on the +thought that men do not do evil of set purpose. Remember also how many +in the past, who, after living in enmity, suspicion, hatred, and strife +one with another, now lie prone in death and are but ashes. Fret then no +more. But perhaps thou art troubled concerning the portion decreed to +thee in the Universe? Remember this alternative: either there is a +Providence or simply matter! Recall all the proofs that the world is, as +it were, a city or a commonwealth! But perhaps the desires of the body +still torment thee? Forget not, then, that the mind, when conscious of +its real self, when self-reliant, shares not the agitations of the body, +be they great or small. Recall too all thou hast learned (and now +holdest as true) concerning pleasure and pain. But perhaps what men call +Fame allures thee? Behold how quickly all things are forgotten! Before +us, after us, the formless Void of endless ages! How vain is human +praise! How fickle and undiscriminating those who seem to praise! How +limited the sphere of the greatest fame! For the whole earth is but a +point in space, thy dwelling-place a tiny nook therein. How few are +those who dwell therein, and what manner of men are those who will +praise thee! + +Therefore, forget not to retire into thine own little country +place,--thyself. Above all, be not diverted from thy course. Be serene, +be free, contemplate all things as a man, as a lover of his kind, and of +his country--yet withal as a being born to die. Have readiest to thy +hand, above all others, these two thoughts: one, that _things_ cannot +touch the soul; the other, that things are perpetually changing and +ceasing to be. Remember how many of these changes thou thyself hast +seen! The Universe is change. But as thy thoughts are, so thy life shall +be. (Book iv., Sec.3.) + + * * * * * + +All things that befall thee should seem to thee as natural as roses in +spring or fruits in autumn: such things, I mean, as disease, death, +slander, dissimulation, and all other things which give pleasure or pain +to foolish men. (Book iv., Sec.44.) + + * * * * * + +Be thou like a lofty headland. Endlessly against it dash the waves; yet +it stands unshaken, and lulls to rest the fury of the sea. (Book +iv., Sec.49.) + + * * * * * + +"Unhappy me upon whom this misfortune hath fallen!"--nay, rather thou +shouldst say, "Fortunate I, that having met with such a misfortune, I am +able to endure it without complaining; in the present not dismayed, in +the future dreading no evil. Such a misadventure might have befallen a +man who could not, perchance, have endured it without grievous +suffering." Why then shouldst thou call _anything_ that befalls thee a +misfortune, and not the rather a blessing? Is that a "misfortune," in +all cases, which does not defeat the purpose of man's nature? and does +that defeat man's nature which his _Will_ can accept? And what that +_Will_ can accept, thou knowest. Can this misadventure, then, prevent +thy Will from being just, magnanimous, temperate, circumspect, free from +rashness or error, considerate, independent? Can it prevent thy Will +from being, in short, all that becomes a man? Remember, then, should +anything befall thee which might cause thee to complain, to fortify +thyself with this truth: this is not a misfortune, while to endure it +nobly is a blessing. (Book iv., Sec.49.) + + * * * * * + +Be not annoyed or dismayed or despondent if thou art not able to do all +things in accord with the rules of right conduct. When thou hast not +succeeded, renew thy efforts, and be serene if, in most things, thy +conduct is such as becomes a man. Love and pursue the philosophic life. +Seek Philosophy, not as thy taskmaster but to find a medicine for all +thy ills, as thou wouldst seek balm for thine eyes, a bandage for a +sprain, a lotion for a fever. So it shall come to pass that the voice of +Reason shall guide thee and bring to thee rest and peace. Remember, too, +that Philosophy enjoins only such things as are in accord with thy +better nature. The trouble is, that in thy heart thou prefer-rest those +things which are not in accord with thy better nature. For thou sayest, +"What can be more delightful than these things?" But is not the word +"delightful" in this sense misleading? Are not magnanimity, +broad-mindedness, sincerity, equanimity, and a reverent spirit more +"delightful"? Indeed, what is more "delightful" than Wisdom, if so be +thou wilt but reflect upon the strength and contentment of mind and the +happiness of life that spring from the exercise of the powers of thy +reason and thine intelligence? (Book v., Sec.9.) + + * * * * * + +As are thy wonted thoughts, so is thy mind; and the soul is tinged by +the coloring of the mind. Let then thy mind be constantly suffused with +such thoughts as these: Where it is possible for a man to live, there he +can live nobly. But suppose he must live in a palace? Be it so; even +there he can live nobly. (Book v., Sec.16.) + + * * * * * + +Live with the gods! And he so lives who at all times makes it manifest +that he is content with his predestined lot, fulfilling the entire will +of the indwelling spirit given to man by the Divine Ruler, and which is +in truth nothing else than the Understanding--the Reason of man. +(Book v., Sec.27.) + +Seek the solitude of thy spirit. This is the law of the indwelling +Reason--to be self-content and to abide in peace when what is right and +just hath been done. (Book vii., Sec. 28.) + + * * * * * + +Let thine eyes follow the stars in their courses as though their +movements were thine own. Meditate on the eternal transformation of +Matter. Such thoughts purge the mind of earthly passion and desire. +(Book vii., Sec. 45.) + + * * * * * + +Search thou thy heart! Therein is the fountain of good! Do thou but dig, +and abundantly the stream shall gush forth. (Book vii., Sec. 59.) + + * * * * * + +Be not unmindful of the graces of life. Let thy body be stalwart, yet +not ungainly either in motion or in repose. Let not thy face alone, but +thy whole body, make manifest the alertness of thy mind. Yet let all +this be without affectation. (Book vii., Sec. 60.) + + * * * * * + +Thy breath is part of the all-encircling air, and is one with it. Let +thy mind be part, no less, of that Supreme Mind comprehending all +things. For verily, to him who is willing to be inspired thereby, the +Supreme Mind flows through all things and permeates all things as truly +as the air exists for him who will but breathe. (Book viii., Sec. 54.) + + * * * * * + +Men are created that they may live for each other. Teach them to be +better or bear with them as they are. (Book viii., Sec. 59.) + + * * * * * + +Write no more, Antoninus, about what a good man is or what he ought to +do. _Be_ a good man. (Book x., Sec. 16.) + + * * * * * + +Look steadfastly at any created thing. See! it is changing, melting into +corruption, and ready to be dissolved. In its essential nature, it was +born but to die. (Book x., Sec. 18.) + +Co-workers are we all, toward one result. Some, consciously and of set +purpose; others, unwittingly even as men who sleep,--of whom Heraclitus +(I think it is he) says they also are co-workers in the events of the +Universe. In diverse fashion also men work; and abundantly, too, work +the fault-finders and the hinderers,--for even of such as these the +Universe hath need. It rests then with thee to determine with what +workers thou wilt place thyself; for He who governs all things will +without failure place thee at thy proper task, and will welcome thee to +some station among those who work and act together. (Book vi., Sec.42.) + + * * * * * + +Unconstrained and in supreme joyousness of soul thou mayest live though +all men revile thee as they list, and though wild beasts rend in pieces +the unworthy garment--thy body. For what prevents thee, in the midst of +all this, from keeping thyself in profound calm, with a true judgment of +thy surroundings and a helpful knowledge of the things that are seen? So +that the Judgment may say to whatever presents itself, "In truth this is +what thou really art, howsoever thou appearest to men;" and thy +Knowledge may say to whatsoever may come beneath its vision, "Thee I +sought; for whatever presents itself to me is fit material for nobility +in personal thought and public conduct; in short, for skill in work for +man or for God." For all things which befall us are related to God or to +man, and are not new to us or hard to work upon, but familiar and +serviceable. (Book vii., Sec.68.) + + * * * * * + +When thou art annoyed at some one's impudence, straightway ask thyself, +"Is it possible that there should be no impudent men in the world?" It +is impossible. Ask not then the impossible. For such an one is but one +of these impudent persons who needs must be in the world. Keep before +thee like conclusions also concerning the rascal, the untrustworthy one, +and all evil-doers. Then, when it is quite clear to thy mind that such +men must needs exist, thou shalt be the more forgiving toward each one +of their number. This also will aid thee to observe, whensoever occasion +comes, what power for good, Nature hath given to man to frustrate such +viciousness. She hath bestowed upon man Patience as an antidote to the +stupid man, and against another man some other power for good. Besides, +it is wholly in thine own power to teach new things to the one who hath +erred, for every one who errs hath but missed the appointed path and +wandered away. Reflect, and thou wilt discover that no one of these with +whom thou art annoyed hath done aught to debase thy _mind_, and that is +the only real evil that can befall thee. + +Moreover, wherein is it wicked or surprising that the ignorant man +should act ignorantly? Is not the error really thine own in not +foreseeing that such an one would do as he did? If thou hadst but taken +thought thou wouldst have known he would be prone to err, and it is only +because thou hast forgotten to use thy Reason that thou art surprised at +his deed. Above all, when thou condemnest another as untruthful, examine +thyself closely; for upon thee rests the blame, in that thou dost trust +to such an one to keep his promise. If thou didst bestow upon him thy +bounty, thine is the blame not to have given it freely, and without +expectation of good to thee, save the doing of the act itself. What more +dost thou wish than to do good to man? Doth not this suffice,--that thou +hast done what conforms to thy true nature? Must thou then have a +reward, as though the eyes demanded pay for seeing or the feet for +walking? For even as these are formed for such work, and by co-operating +in their distinctive duty come into their own, even so man (by his real +nature disposed to do good), when he hath done some good deed, or in any +other way furthered the Commonweal, acts according to his own nature, +and in so doing hath all that is truly his own. (Book ix., Sec.42.) + +O Man, thou hast been a citizen of this great State, the Universe! What +matters what thy prescribed time hath been, five years or three? What +the law prescribes is just to every one. + +Why complain, then, if thou art sent away from the State, not by a +tyrant or an unjust judge, but by Nature who led thee thither,--even as +the manager excuses from the stage an actor whom he hath employed? + +"But I have played three acts only?" + +True. But in the drama of thy life three acts conclude the play. For +what its conclusion shall be, He determines who created it and now ends +it; and with either of these thou hast naught to do. Depart thou, then, +well pleased; for He who dismisses thee is well pleased also. (Book +xii., Sec.36.) + +Be not disquieted lest, in the days to come, some misadventure befall +thee. The Reason which now sufficeth thee will then be with thee, should +there be the need. (Book vii., Sec.8.) + + * * * * * + +To the wise man the dictates of Reason seem the instincts of Nature. +(Book vii., Sec.11) + + * * * * * + +My true self--the philosophic mind--hath but one dread: the dread lest I +do something unworthy of a man, or that I may act in an unseemly way or +at an improper time. (Book vii., Sec.20.) + + * * * * * + +Accept with joy the Fate that befalls thee. Thine it is and not +another's. What then could be better for thee? (Book vii., Sec.57) + + * * * * * + +See to it that thou art humane to those who are not humane. (Book vii., +Sec.65.) + + * * * * * + +He who does _not_ act, often commits as great a wrong as he who acts. +(Book ix., Sec.5.) + + * * * * * + +The wrong that another has done--let alone! Add not to it thine own. +(Book ix., Sec.20.) + + * * * * * + +How powerful is man! He is able to do all that God wishes him to do. He +is able to accept all that God sends upon him. (Book xii., Sec.11.) + + * * * * * + +A lamp sends forth its light until it is completely extinguished. Shall +Truth and Justice and Equanimity suffer abatement in thee until all are +extinguished in death? (Book xii., Sec.15.) + + + + +JANE AUSTEN + +(1775-1817) + + +The biography of one of the greatest English novelists might be written +in a dozen lines, so simple, so tranquil, so fortunate was her life. +Jane Austen, the second daughter of an English clergyman, was born at +Steventon, in Hampshire, in 1775. Her father had been known at Oxford as +"the handsome proctor," and all his children inherited good looks. He +was accomplished enough to fit his boys for the University, and the +atmosphere of the household was that of culture, good breeding, and +healthy fun. Mrs. Austen was a clever woman, full of epigram and humor +in conversation, and rather famous in her own coterie for improvised +verses and satirical hits at her friends. The elder daughter, Cassandra, +adored by Jane, who was three years her junior, seems to have had a rare +balance and common-sense which exercised great influence over the more +brilliant younger sister. Their mother declared that of the two girls, +Cassandra had the merit of having her temper always under her control; +and Jane the happiness of a temper that never required to be commanded. + +[Illustration: JANE AUSTEN] + +From her cradle, Jane Austen was used to hearing agreeable household +talk, and the freest personal criticism on the men and women who made up +her small, secluded world. The family circumstances were easy, and the +family friendliness unlimited,--conditions determining, perhaps, the +cheerful tone, the unexciting course, the sly fun and good-fellowship of +her stories. + +It was in this Steventon rectory, in the family room where the boys +might be building their toy boats, or the parish poor folk complaining +to "passon's madam," or the county ladies paying visits of ceremony, in +monstrous muffs, heelless slippers laced over open-worked silk +stockings, short flounced skirts, and lutestring pelisses trimmed with +"Irish," or where tradesmen might be explaining their delinquencies, or +farmers' wives growing voluble over foxes and young chickens--it was in +the midst of this busy and noisy publicity, where nobody respected her +employment, and where she was interrupted twenty times in an hour, that +the shrewd and smiling social critic managed, before she was +twenty-one, to write her famous 'Pride and Prejudice.' Here too 'Sense +and Sensibility' was finished in 1797, and 'Northanger Abbey' in 1798. +The first of these, submitted to a London publisher, was declined as +unavailable, by return of post. The second, the gay and mocking +'Northanger Abbey,' was sold to a Bath bookseller for L10, and several +years later bought back again, still unpublished, by one of Miss +Austen's brothers. For the third story she seems not even to have sought +a publisher. These three books, all written before she was twenty-five, +were evidently the employment and delight of her leisure. The serious +business of life was that which occupied other pretty girls of her time +and her social position,--dressing, dancing, flirting, learning a new +stitch at the embroidery frame, or a new air on "the instrument"; while +all the time she was observing, with those soft hazel eyes of hers, what +honest Nym calls the "humors" of the world about her. In 1801, the +family removed to Bath, then the most fashionable watering-place in +England. The gay life of the brilliant little city, the etiquette of the +Pump Room and the Assemblies, regulated by the autocratic Beau Nash, the +drives, the routs, the card parties, the toilets, the shops, the Parade, +the general frivolity, pretension, and display of the eighteenth century +Vanity Fair, had already been studied by the good-natured satirist on +occasional visits, and already immortalized in the swiftly changing +comedy scenes of 'Northanger Abbey.' But they tickled her fancy none the +less, now that she lived among them, and she made use of them again in +her later novel, 'Persuasion.' + +For a period of eight years, spent in Bath and in Southampton, Miss +Austen wrote nothing save some fragments of 'Lady Susan' and 'The +Watsons,' neither of them of great importance. In 1809 the lessened +household, composed of the mother and her two daughters only, removed to +the village of Chawton, on the estate of Mrs. Austen's third son; and +here, in a rustic cottage, now become a place of pilgrimage, Jane Austen +again took up her pen. She rewrote 'Pride and Prejudice.' She revised +'Sense and Sensibility,' and between February 1811 and August 1816 she +completed 'Mansfield Park,' 'Emma,' and 'Persuasion.' At Chawton, as at +Steventon, she had no study, and her stories were written on a little +mahogany desk near a window in the family sitting-room, where she must +often have been interrupted by the prototypes of her Mrs. Allen, Mrs. +Bennet, Miss Bates, Mr. Collins, or Mrs. Norris. When at last she began +to publish, her stories appeared in rapid succession: 'Sense and +Sensibility' in 1811; 'Pride and Prejudice' early in 1813; 'Mansfield +Park' in 1814; 'Emma' in 1816; 'Northanger Abbey' and 'Persuasion' in +1818, the year following her death. In January 1813 she wrote to her +beloved Cassandra:--"I want to tell you that I have got my own darling +child 'Pride and Prejudice' from London. We fairly set at it and read +half the first volume to Miss B. She was amused, poor soul! ... but she +really does seem to admire Elizabeth. I must confess that _I_ think her +as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print, and how I shall be +able to tolerate those who do not like _her_ at least, I do not know." A +month later she wrote:--"Upon the whole, however, I am quite vain +enough, and well satisfied enough. The work is rather too light, and +bright, and sparkling: it wants shade; it wants to be stretched out here +and there with a long chapter of sense, if it could be had; if not, of +solemn, specious nonsense, about something unconnected with the story; +an essay on writing, a critique on Walter Scott, or the history of +Bonaparte, or something that would form a contrast, and bring the reader +with increased delight to the playfulness and epigrammatism of the +general style!" + +Thus she who laughed at everybody else laughed at herself, and set her +critical instinct to estimate her own capacity. To Mr. Clarke, the +librarian of Carlton House, who had requested her to "delineate a +clergyman" of earnestness, enthusiasm, and learning, she replied:--"I am +quite honored by your thinking me capable of drawing such a clergyman as +you gave the sketch of in your note. But I assure you I am not. The +comic part of the character I might be equal to, but not the good, the +enthusiastic, the literary.... I think I may boast myself to be, with +all possible vanity, the most unlearned and uninformed female who ever +dared to be an authoress." And when the same remarkable bibliophile +suggested to her, on the approach of the marriage of the Princess +Charlotte with Prince Leopold, that "an historical romance, illustrative +of the august House of Coburg, would just now be very interesting," she +answered:--"I am fully sensible that an historical romance, founded on +the House of Saxe-Coburg, might be much more to the purpose of profit or +popularity than such pictures of domestic life in country villages as I +deal in. But I could no more write a romance than an epic poem. I could +not sit seriously down to write a serious romance under any other motive +than to save my life; and if it were indispensable to keep it up, and +never relax into laughing at myself or at other people, I am sure that I +should be hung before I had finished the first chapter. No! I must keep +to my own style, and go on in my own way: and though I may never succeed +again in that, I am convinced that I shall totally fail in any other." +And again she writes: "What shall _I_ do with your 'strong, manly, +vigorous sketches, full of variety and glow'? How could I possibly join +them on to the little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which I work +with so fine a brush as produces little effect, after much labor?" + +Miss Austen read very little. She "detested quartos." Richardson, +Johnson, Crabbe, and Cowper seem to have been the only authors for whom +she had an appreciation. She would sometimes say, in jest, that "if ever +she married at all, she could fancy being Mrs. Crabbe!" But her bent of +original composition, her amazing power of observation, her +inexhaustible sense of humor, her absorbing interest in what she saw +about her, were so strong that she needed no reinforcement of culture. +It was no more in her power than it was in Wordsworth's to "gather a +posy of other men's thoughts." + +During her lifetime she had not a single literary friend. Other women +novelists possessed their sponsors and devotees. Miss Ferrier was the +delight of a brilliant Edinboro' coterie. Miss Edgeworth was feasted and +flattered, not only in England, but on the Continent; Miss Burney +counted Johnson, Burke, Garrick, Windham, Sheridan, among the admiring +friends who assured her that no flight in fiction or the drama was +beyond her powers. But the creator of Elizabeth Bennet, of Emma, and of +Mr. Collins, never met an author of eminence, received no encouragement +to write except that of her own family, heard no literary talk, and +obtained in her lifetime but the slightest literary recognition. It was +long after her death that Walter Scott wrote in his journal:--"Read +again, and for the third time at least, Miss Austen's finely written +novel of _Pride and Prejudice_. That young lady had a talent for +describing the involvements and feelings and characters of ordinary life +which is to me the most wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow +strain I can do myself, like any now going; but the exquisite touch +which renders commonplace things and characters interesting from the +truth of the description and the sentiment is denied to me." It was +still later that Macaulay made his famous estimate of her +genius:--"Shakespeare has neither equal nor second; but among those who, +in the point we have noticed (the delineation of character), approached +nearest the great master, we have no hesitation in placing Jane Austen +as a woman of whom England may justly be proud. She has given us a +multitude of characters, all, in a certain sense, commonplace, all such +as we meet every day. Yet they are all as perfectly discriminated from +each other as if they were the most eccentric of human beings.... And +all this is done by touches so delicate that they elude analysis, that +they defy the powers of description, and that we know them to exist only +by the general effect to which they have contributed." And a new +generation had almost forgotten her name before the exacting Lewes +wrote:--"To make our meaning precise, we would say that Fielding and +Jane Austen are the greatest novelists in the English language.... We +would rather have written 'Pride and Prejudice' or 'Tom Jones,' than +any of the Waverley novels.... The greatness of Miss Austen (her +marvelous dramatic power) seems more than anything in Scott akin to +Shakespeare." + +The six novels which have made so great a reputation for their author +relate the least sensational of histories in the least sensational way. +'Sense and Sensibility' might be called a novel with a purpose, that +purpose being to portray the dangerous haste with which sentiment +degenerates into sentimentality; and because of its purpose, the story +discloses a less excellent art than its fellows. 'Pride and Prejudice' +finds its motive in the crass pride of birth and place that characterize +the really generous and high-minded hero, Darcy, and the fierce +resentment of his claims to love and respect on the part of the clever, +high-tempered, and chivalrous heroine, Elizabeth Bennet. 'Northanger +Abbey' is a laughing skit at the school of Mrs. Radcliffe; 'Persuasion,' +a simple story of upper middle-class society, of which the most charming +of her charming girls, Anne Elliot, is the heroine; 'Mansfield Park' a +new and fun-loving version of 'Cinderella'; and finally 'Emma,'--the +favorite with most readers, concerning which Miss Austen said, "I am +going to take a heroine whom no one but myself will much like,"--the +history of the blunders of a bright, kind-hearted, and really clever +girl, who contrives as much discomfort for her friends as stupidity or +ill-nature could devise. + +Numberless as are the novelist's characters, no two clergymen, no two +British matrons, no two fussy spinsters, no two men of fashion, no two +heavy fathers, no two smart young ladies, no two heroines, are alike. +And this variety results from the absolute fidelity of each character to +the law of its own development, each one growing from within and not +being simply described from without. Nor are the circumstances which she +permits herself to use less genuine than her people. What surrounds them +is what one must expect; what happens to them is seen to be inevitable. + +The low and quiet key in which her "situations" are pitched produces one +artistic gain which countervails its own loss of immediate intensity: +the least touch of color shows strongly against that subdued background. +A very slight catastrophe among those orderly scenes of peaceful life +has more effect than the noisier incidents and contrived convulsions of +more melodramatic novels. Thus, in 'Mansfield Park' the result of +private theatricals, including many rehearsals of stage love-making, +among a group of young people who show no very strong principles or +firmness of character, appears in a couple of elopements which break up +a family, occasion a pitiable scandal, and spoil the career of an able, +generous, and highly promising young man. To most novelists an incident +of this sort would seem too ineffective: in her hands it strikes us as +what in fact it is--a tragic misfortune and the ruin of two lives. + +In a word, it is life which Miss Austen sees with unerring vision and +draws with unerring touch; so that above all other writers of English +fiction she seems entitled to the tribute which an Athenian critic gave +to an earlier and more famous realist,-- + + "O life! O Menander! + Which of you two is the plagiarist?" + + +AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE + +From 'Pride and Prejudice' + +The next day opened a new scene at Longbourn. Mr. Collins made his +declaration in form. Having resolved to do it without loss of time, as +his leave of absence extended only to the following Saturday, and having +no feelings of diffidence to make it distressing to himself even at the +moment, he set about it in a very orderly manner, with all the +observances which he supposed a regular part of the business. On finding +Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and one of the younger girls together, soon +after breakfast, he addressed the mother in these words:-- + +"May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth, +when I solicit for the honor of a private audience with her in the +course of this morning?" + +Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. +Bennet instantly answered: "Oh, dear. Yes; certainly. I am sure Lizzy +will be very happy--I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I +want you upstairs." And, gathering her work together, she was hastening +away, when Elizabeth called out:-- + +"Dear ma'am, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse +me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am +going away myself." + +"No, no; nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you will stay where you are." And +upon Elizabeth's seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about +to escape, she added, "Lizzy, I _insist_ upon your staying and hearing +Mr. Collins." + +Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction; and a moment's +consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get +it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again, and +tried to conceal by incessant employment the feelings which were divided +between distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off; and as +soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began:-- + +"Believe me, my dear Miss Elizabeth, that your modesty, so far from +doing you any disservice, rather adds to your other perfections. You +would have been less amiable in my eyes had there _not_ been this little +unwillingness; but allow me to assure you that I have your respected +mother's permission for this address. You can hardly doubt the purport +of my discourse, however your natural delicacy may lead you to +dissemble: my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken. Almost as +soon as I entered the house I singled you out as the companion of my +future life. But before I am run away with by my feelings on this +subject, perhaps it will be advisable for me to state my reasons for +marrying--and moreover, for coming into Hertfordshire with the design of +selecting a wife, as I certainly did." + +The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away +with by his feelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing that she could not +use the short pause he allowed in any attempt to stop him further, and +he continued:-- + +"My reasons for marrying are, first, that I think it a right thing for +every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example +of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced it will add +very greatly to my happiness; and thirdly,--which perhaps I ought to +have mentioned earlier,--that it is the particular advice and +recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honor of calling +patroness. Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked, +too!) on this subject; and it was but the very Saturday night before I +left Hunsford--between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs. Jenkinson was +arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool--that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you +must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a +gentlewoman, for _my_ sake; and for your _own_, let her be an active, +useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small +income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as +you can, bring her to Hunsford, and I will visit her!' Allow me, by the +way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not reckon the notice and +kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the +advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond +anything I can describe; and your wit and vivacity, I think, must be +acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the silence and respect +which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general +intention in favor of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views are +directed to Longbourn instead of my own neighborhood, where, I assure +you, there are many amiable young women. But the fact is, that being, as +I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honored father +(who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself +without resolving to choose a wife from among his daughters, that the +loss to them might be as little as possible, when the melancholy event +takes place,--which, however, as I have already said, may not be for +several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter +myself it will not sink me in your esteem. And now, nothing remains for +me but to assure you, in the most animated language, of the violence of +my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no +demand of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it +could not be complied with; and that one thousand pounds in the four per +cents., which will not be yours till after your mother's decease, is all +that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be +uniformly silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous +reproach shall ever pass my lips when we are married." + +It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now. + +"You are too hasty, sir," she cried. "You forget that I have made no +answer. Let me do it without further loss of time. Accept my thanks for +the compliment you are paying me. I am very sensible of the honor of +your proposals, but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than +decline them." + +"I am not now to learn," replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the +hand, "that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the +man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their +favor; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second, or even a +third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just +said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long." + +"Upon my word, sir," cried Elizabeth, "your hope is rather an +extraordinary one, after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not +one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so +daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second +time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make _me_ +happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who +would make _you_ so. Nay, were your friend Lady Catherine to know me, I +am persuaded she would find me in every respect ill qualified for the +situation." + +"Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so," said Mr. Collins, +very gravely--"but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all +disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honor of +seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, +economy, and other amiable qualifications." + +"Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must +give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of +believing what I say. I wish you very happy and very rich, and by +refusing your hand do all in my power to prevent your being otherwise. +In making me the offer, you must have satisfied the delicacy of your +feelings with regard to my family, and may take possession of Longbourn +estate whenever it falls, without any self-reproach. This matter may be +considered, therefore, as finally settled." And rising as she thus +spoke, she would have quitted the room had not Mr. Collins thus +addressed her:-- + +"When I do myself the honor of speaking to you next on the subject, I +shall hope to receive a more favorable answer than you have now given +me: though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I +know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the +first application; and perhaps you have even now said as much to +encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the +female character." + +"Really, Mr. Collins," cried Elizabeth, with some warmth, "you puzzle me +exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form +of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as +may convince you of its being one." + +"You must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your +refusal of my addresses is merely a thing of course. My reasons for +believing it are briefly these:--It does not appear to me that my hand +is unworthy your acceptance, or that the establishment I can offer would +be any other than highly desirable. My situation in life, my +connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my relationship to your +own, are circumstances highly in my favor; and you should take it into +further consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions, it is +by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you. +Your portion is unhappily so small that it will in all likelihood undo +the effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must +therefore conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I +shall choose to attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by +suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females." + +"I do assure you, sir, that I have no pretensions whatever to that kind +of elegance which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would +rather be paid the compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you +again and again for the honor you have done me in your proposals, but to +accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect +forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant +female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the +truth from her heart." + +"You are uniformly charming!" cried he, with an air of awkward +gallantry; "and I am persuaded that when sanctioned by the express +authority of both your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of +being acceptable." + +To such perseverance in willful self-deception Elizabeth would make no +reply, and immediately and in silence withdrew; determined, if he +persisted in considering her repeated refusals as flattering +encouragement, to apply to her father, whose negative might be uttered +in such a manner as must be decisive, and whose behavior at least could +not be mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female. + + +MOTHER AND DAUGHTER + +From 'Pride and Prejudice' + +[Lydia Bennet has eloped with the worthless rake Wickham, who has no +intention of marrying her.] + +Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes' +conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected: with +tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous +conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own suffering and +ill-usage;--blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging +indulgence the errors of her daughter must be principally owing. + +"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going to Brighton +with all my family, _this_ would not have happened; but poor, dear Lydia +had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go out +of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their +side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had +been well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have +the charge of her; but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor, dear +child! And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight +Wickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed, and what is +to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out, before he is cold +in his grave; and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what +we shall do." + +They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner, after +general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her +that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist Mr. +Bennet in every endeavor for recovering Lydia. + +"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he: "though it is right to be +prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. +It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more, we +may gain some news of them; and till we know that they are not married, +and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as +lost. As soon as I get to town, I shall go to my brother, and make him +come home with me, to Grace-church-street, and then we may consult +together as to what is to be done." + +"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I +could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out, +wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, _make_ them +marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but +tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, +after they are married. And above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from +fighting. Tell him what a dreadful state I am in--that I am frightened +out of my wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me, +such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings at +heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear +Lydia not to give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, +for she does not know which are the best warehouses. Oh! brother, how +kind you are! I know you will contrive it all." + +But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavors +in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well in +her hopes as her fears; and after talking with her in this manner till +dinner was on the table, they left her to vent all her feelings on the +housekeeper, who attended, in the absence of her daughters. + +Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real +occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to +oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her +tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it +better that one only of the household, and the one whom they could most +trust, should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the subject. + +In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had been +too busily engaged in their separate apartments to make their appearance +before. One came from her books, and the other from her toilette. The +faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible +in either, except that the loss of her favorite sister, or the anger +which she had herself incurred in the business, had given something more +of fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she was +mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance +of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table:-- + +"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much talked of. +But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of +each other the balm of sisterly consolation." + +Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added, +"Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful +lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable--that one false +step involves her in endless ruin--that her reputation is no less +brittle than it is beautiful--and that she cannot be too much guarded in +her behavior towards the undeserving of the other sex." + +Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to +make any reply. + + +A LETTER OF CONDOLENCE + +From 'Pride and Prejudice' + +MR. COLLINS TO MR. BENNET, ON HIS DAUGHTER'S ELOPEMENT WITH A RAKE + +_My Dear Sir_: + +I feel myself called upon, by our relationship and my situation in life, +to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now suffering +under, of which we were yesterday informed by letter from Hertfordshire. +Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely +sympathize with you, and all your respectable family, in your present +distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a +cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting, on my +part, that can alleviate so severe a misfortune; or that may comfort you +under a circumstance that must be of all others most afflicting to a +parent's mind. The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in +comparison of this. And it is the more to be lamented because there is +reason to suppose, as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this +licentiousness of behavior in your daughter has proceeded from a faulty +degree of indulgence; though at the same time, for the consolation of +yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own +disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an +enormity at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are grievously +to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but +likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have related the +affair. They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one +daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, +as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves +with such a family? And this consideration leads me, moreover, to +reflect with augmented satisfaction on a certain event of last November; +for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your sorrows +and disgrace. Let me advise you, then, my dear sir, to console yourself +as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child from your +affection forever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own +heinous offense. + +I am, dear sir, etc., etc. + + +A WELL-MATCHED SISTER AND BROTHER + +From 'Northanger Abbey' + +"My dearest Catherine, have you settled what to wear on your head +to-night? I am determined, at all events, to be dressed exactly like +you. The men take notice of _that_ sometimes, you know." + +"But it does not signify if they do," said Catherine, very innocently. + +"Signify! oh, heavens! I make it a rule never to mind what they say. +They are very often amazingly impertinent, if you do not treat them with +spirit, and make them keep their distance." + +"Are they? Well I never observed _that_. They always behave very well to +me." + +"Oh! they give themselves such airs. They are the most conceited +creatures in the world, and think themselves of so much importance! By +the by, though I have thought of it a hundred times, I have always +forgot to ask you what is your favorite complexion in a man. Do you like +them best dark or fair?" + +"I hardly know. I never much thought about it. Something between both, I +think--brown: not fair, and not very dark." + +"Very well, Catherine. That is exactly he. I have not forgot your +description of Mr. Tilney: 'a brown skin, with dark eyes, and rather +dark hair.' Well, my taste is different. I prefer light eyes; and as to +complexion, do you know, I like a sallow better than any other. You must +not betray me, if you should ever meet with one of your acquaintance +answering that description." + +"Betray you! What do you mean?" + +"Nay, do not distress me. I believe I have said too much. Let us drop +the subject." + +Catherine, in some amazement, complied; and after remaining a few +moments silent, was on the point of reverting to what interested her at +that time rather more than anything else in the world, Laurentina's +skeleton, when her friend prevented her by saying, "For Heaven's sake! +let us move away from this end of the room. Do you know, there are two +odious young men who have been staring at me this half-hour. They really +put me quite out of countenance. Let us go and look at the arrivals. +They will hardly follow us there." + +Away they walked to the book; and while Isabella examined the names, it +was Catherine's employment to watch the proceedings of these alarming +young men. + +"They are not coming this way, are they? I hope they are not so +impertinent as to follow us. Pray let me know if they are coming. I am +determined I will not look up." + +In a few moments Catherine, with unaffected pleasure, assured her that +she need not be longer uneasy, as the gentlemen had just left the +Pump-room. + +"And which way are they gone?" said Isabella, turning hastily round. +"One was a very good-looking young man." + +"They went towards the churchyard." + +"Well, I am amazingly glad I have got rid of them! And now what say you +to going to Edgar's Buildings with me, and looking at my new hat? You +said you should like to see it." + +Catherine readily agreed. "Only," she added, "perhaps we may overtake +the two young men." + +"Oh! never mind that. If we make haste, we shall pass by them presently, +and I am dying to show you my hat." + +"But if we only wait a few minutes, there will be no danger of our +seeing them at all." + +"I shall not pay them any such compliment, I assure you. I have no +notion of treating men with such respect. _That_ is the way to +spoil them." + +Catherine had nothing to oppose against such reasoning; and therefore, +to show the independence of Miss Thorpe, and her resolution of humbling +the sex, they set off immediately, as fast as they could walk, in +pursuit of the two young men. + +Half a minute conducted them through the Pump-yard to the archway, +opposite Union Passage; but here they were stopped. Everybody acquainted +with Bath may remember the difficulties of crossing Cheap Street at this +point; it is indeed a street of so impertinent a nature, so +unfortunately connected with the great London and Oxford roads, and the +principal inn of the city, that a day never passes in which parties of +ladies, however important their business, whether in quest of pastry, +millinery, or even (as in the present case) of young men, are not +detained on one side or other by carriages, horsemen, or carts. This +evil had been felt and lamented, at least three times a day, by Isabella +since her residence in Bath: and she was now fated to feel and lament it +once more; for at the very moment of coming opposite to Union Passage, +and within view of the two gentlemen who were proceeding through the +crowds and treading the gutters of that interesting alley, they were +prevented crossing by the approach of a gig, driven along on bad +pavements by a most knowing-looking coachman, with all the vehemence +that could most fitly endanger the lives of himself, his companion, and +his horse. + +"Oh, these odious gigs!" said Isabella, looking up, "how I detest them!" +But this detestation, though so just, was of short duration, for she +looked again, and exclaimed, "Delightful! Mr. Morland and my brother!" + +"Good Heaven! 'tis James!" was uttered at the same moment by Catherine; +and on catching the young men's eyes, the horse was immediately checked +with a violence which almost threw him on his haunches; and the servant +having now scampered up, the gentlemen jumped out, and the equipage was +delivered to his care. + +Catherine, by whom this meeting was wholly unexpected, received her +brother with the liveliest pleasure; and he, being of a very amiable +disposition, and sincerely attached to her, gave every proof on his side +of equal satisfaction, which he could have leisure to do, while the +bright eyes of Miss Thorpe were incessantly challenging his notice; and +to her his devoirs were speedily paid, with a mixture of joy and +embarrassment which might have informed Catherine, had she been more +expert in the development of other people's feelings, and less simply +engrossed by her own, that her brother thought her friend quite as +pretty as she could do herself. + +John Thorpe, who in the mean time had been giving orders about the +horse, soon joined them, and from him she directly received the amends +which were her due; for while he slightly and carelessly touched the +hand of Isabella, on her he bestowed a whole scrape and half a short +bow. He was a stout young man, of middling height, who, with a plain +face and ungraceful form, seemed fearful of being too handsome unless he +wore the dress of a groom, and too much like a gentleman unless he were +easy where he ought to be civil, and impudent where he might be allowed +to be easy. He took out his watch:--"How long do you think we have been +running in from Tetbury, Miss Morland?" + +"I do not know the distance." Her brother told her that it was +twenty-three miles. + +"_Three_-and-twenty!" cried Thorpe; "five-and-twenty if it is an inch." +Morland remonstrated, pleaded the authority of road-books, innkeepers, +and milestones: but his friend disregarded them all; he had a surer test +of distance. "I know it must be five-and-twenty," said he, "by the time +we have been doing it." "It is now half after one; we drove out of the +inn-yard at Tetbury as the town-clock struck eleven; and I defy any man +in England to make my horse go less than ten miles an hour in harness; +that makes it exactly twenty-five." + +"You have lost an hour," said Morland: "it was only ten o'clock when we +came from Tetbury." + +"Ten o'clock! it was eleven, upon my soul! I counted every stroke. This +brother of yours would persuade me out of my senses, Miss Morland. Do +but look at my horse: did you ever see an animal so made for speed in +your life?" (The servant had just mounted the carriage and was driving +off.) "Such true blood! Three hours and a half, indeed, coming only +three-and-twenty miles! Look at that creature, and suppose it possible, +if you can!" + +"He _does_ look very hot, to be sure." + +"Hot! he had not turned a hair till we came to Walcot Church: but look +at his forehand; look at his loins; only see how he moves: that horse +_cannot_ go less than ten miles an hour; tie his legs, and he will get +on. What do you think of my gig, Miss Morland? A neat one, is it not? +Well hung; town built: I have not had it a month. It was built for a +Christ Church man, a friend of mine, a very good sort of fellow; he ran +it a few weeks, till, I believe, it was convenient to have done with it. +I happened just then to be looking out for some light thing of the kind, +though I had pretty well determined on a curricle too; but I chanced to +meet him on Magdalen Bridge, as he was driving into Oxford, last term: +'Ah, Thorpe,' said he, 'do you happen to want such a little thing as +this? It is a capital one of the kind, but I am cursed tired of it.' +'Oh! d----,' said I, 'I am your man; what do you ask?' And how much do +you think he did, Miss Morland?" + +"I am sure I cannot guess at all." + +"Curricle-hung, you see; seat, trunk, sword-case, splashing-board, +lamps, silver molding, all, you see, complete; the ironwork as good as +new, or better. He asked fifty guineas: I closed with him directly, +threw down the money, and the carriage was mine." + +"And I am sure," said Catherine, "I know so little of such things, that +I cannot judge whether it was cheap or dear." + +"Neither one nor t'other; I might have got it for less, I dare say; but +I hate haggling, and poor Freeman wanted cash." + +"That was very good-natured of you," said Catherine, quite pleased. + +"Oh! d---- it, when one has the means of doing a kind thing by a friend, +I hate to be pitiful." + +An inquiry now took place into the intended movements of the young +ladies; and on finding whither they were going, it was decided that the +gentlemen should accompany them to Edgar's Buildings, and pay their +respects to Mrs. Thorpe. James and Isabella led the way; and so well +satisfied was the latter with her lot, so contentedly was she +endeavoring to insure a pleasant walk to him who brought the double +recommendation of being her brother's friend and her friend's brother, +so pure and uncoquettish were her feelings, that though they overtook +and passed the two offending young men in Milsom Street, she was so far +from seeking to attract their notice that she looked back at them only +three times. + +John Thorpe kept of course with Catherine, and after a few minutes' +silence renewed the conversation about his gig:--"You will find, +however, Miss Morland, it would be reckoned a cheap thing by some +people, for I might have sold it for ten guineas more the next day; +Jackson of Oriel bid me sixty at once; Morland was with me at the time." + +"Yes," said Morland, who overheard this; "bet you forgot that your horse +was included." + +"My horse! oh, d---- it! I would not sell my horse for a hundred. Are +you fond of an open carriage, Miss Morland?" + +"Yes, very: I have hardly ever an opportunity of being in one; but I am +particularly fond of it." + +"I am glad of it: I will drive you out in mine every day." + +"Thank you," said Catherine, in some distress, from a doubt of the +propriety of accepting such an offer. + +"I will drive you up Lansdown Hill to-morrow." + +"Thank you; but will not your horse want rest?" + +"Rest! he has only come three-and-twenty miles to-day; all nonsense: +nothing ruins horses so much as rest; nothing knocks them up so soon. +No, no: I shall exercise mine at the average of four hours every day +while I am here." + +"Shall you, indeed!" said Catherine, very seriously: "that will be +forty miles a day." + +"Forty! ay, fifty, for what I care. Well, I will drive you up Lansdown +to-morrow; mind, I am engaged." + +"How delightful that will be!" cried Isabella, turning round; "my +dearest Catherine, I quite envy you; but I am afraid, brother, you will +not have room for a third." + +"A third, indeed! no, no; I did not come to Bath to drive my sisters +about: that would be a good joke, faith! Morland must take care of you." + +This brought on a dialogue of civilities between the other two; but +Catherine heard neither the particulars nor the result. Her companion's +discourse now sunk from its hitherto animated pitch to nothing more than +a short, decisive sentence of praise or condemnation on the face of +every women they met; and Catherine, after listening and agreeing as +long as she could, with all the civility and deference of the youthful +female mind, fearful of hazarding an opinion of its own in opposition to +that of a self-assured man, especially where the beauty of her own sex +is concerned, ventured at length to vary the subject by a question which +had been long uppermost in her thoughts. It was, "Have you ever read +'Udolpho,' Mr. Thorpe?" + +"'Udolpho'! O Lord! not I: I never read novels; I have something else to +do." + +Catherine, humbled and ashamed, was going to apologize for her question; +but he prevented her by saying, "Novels are all so full of nonsense and +stuff! there has not been a tolerable decent one come out since 'Tom +Jones,' except the 'Monk'; I read that t'other day: but as for all the +others, they are the stupidest things in creation." + +"I think you must like 'Udolpho,' if you were to read it: it is so very +interesting." + +"Not I, faith! No, if I read any, it shall be Mrs. Radcliffe's; her +novels are amusing enough: they are worth reading; some fun and nature +in _them_. + +"'Udolpho' was written by Mrs. Radcliffe," said Catherine, with some +hesitation, from the fear of mortifying him. + +"No, sure; was it? Ay, I remember, so it was; I was thinking of that +other stupid book, written by that woman they made such a fuss about; +she who married the French emigrant." + +"I suppose you mean 'Camilla'?" + +"Yes, that's the book: such unnatural stuff! An old man playing at +see-saw: I took up the first volume once, and looked it over, but I soon +found it would not do; indeed, I guessed what sort of stuff it must be +before I saw it; as soon as I heard she had married an emigrant, I was +sure I should never be able to get through it." + +"I have never read it." + +"You have no loss, I assure you; it is the horridest nonsense you can +imagine: there is nothing in the world in it but an old man's playing at +see-saw and learning Latin; upon my soul, there is not." + +This critique, the justness of which was unfortunately lost on poor +Catherine, brought them to the door of Mrs. Thorpe's lodgings, and the +feelings of the discerning and unprejudiced reader of 'Camilla' gave way +to the feelings of the dutiful and affectionate son, as they met Mrs. +Thorpe, who had descried them from above, in the passage. "Ah, mother, +how do you do?" said he, giving her a hearty shake of the hand; "where +did you get that quiz of a hat? it makes you look like an old witch. +Here is Morland and I come to stay a few days with you; so you must look +out for a couple of good beds somewhere near." And this address seemed +to satisfy all the fondest wishes of the mother's heart, for she +received him with the most delighted and exulting affection. On his two +younger sisters he then bestowed an equal portion of his fraternal +tenderness, for he asked each of them how they did, and observed that +they both looked very ugly. + + +FAMILY DOCTORS + +From 'Emma' + +While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse was enjoying a +full flow of happy regrets and tearful affection with his daughter. + +"My poor, dear Isabella," said he, fondly taking her hand, and +interrupting for a few moments her busy labors for some one of her five +children, "how long it is, how terribly long since you were here! And +how tired you must be after your journey! You must go to bed early, my +dear,--and I recommend a little gruel to you before you go. You and I +will have a nice basin of gruel together. My dear Emma, suppose we all +have a little gruel." + +Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did that both the +Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as herself, and two +basins only were ordered. After a little more discourse in praise of +gruel, with some wondering at its not being taken every evening by +everybody, he proceeded to say, with an air of grave reflection:-- + +"It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn at South +End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of the sea air." + +"Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir, or we should not +have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for +the weakness in little Bella's throat,--both sea air and bathing." + +"Ah, my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her any +good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, though +perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very rarely of use +to anybody. I am sure it almost killed me once." + +"Come, come," cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, "I must +beg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and miserable; I who +have never seen it! South End is prohibited, if you please. My dear +Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry after Mr. Perry yet; and +he never forgets you." + +"Oh, good Mr. Perry, how is he, sir?" + +"Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he has +not time to take care of himself; he tells me he has not time to take +care of himself--which is very sad--but he is always wanted all round +the country. I suppose there is not a man in such practice anywhere. But +then, there is not so clever a man anywhere." + +"And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? Do the children grow? I +have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be calling soon. He +will be so pleased to see my little ones." + +"I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to ask +him about myself of some consequence. And, my dear, whenever he comes, +you had better let him look at little Bella's throat." + +"Oh, my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly any +uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the greatest service to +her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent embrocation of Mr. +Wingfield's, which we have been applying at times ever since August." + +"It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been of use to +her; and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, I would have +spoken to--" + +"You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. and Miss Bates," said Emma: "I +have not heard one inquiry after them." + +"Oh, the good Bateses--I am quite ashamed of myself; but you mention +them in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. Good old Mrs. +Bates. I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my children. They are +always so pleased to see my children. And that excellent Miss +Bates!--such thorough worthy people! How are they, sir?" + +"Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole. But poor Mrs. Bates had a +bad cold about a month ago." + +"How sorry I am! but colds were never so prevalent as they have been +this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he had never known them more +general or heavy, except when it has been quite an influenza." + +"That has been a good deal the case, my dear, but not to the degree you +mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy +as he has very often known them in November. Perry does not call it +altogether a sickly season." + +"No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it _very_ sickly, +except--" + +"Ah, my poor, dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always a +sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a +dreadful thing to have you forced to live there;--so far off!--and the +air so bad!" + +"No, indeed, _we_ are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is so +very superior to most others. You must not confound us with London in +general, my dear sir. The neighborhood of Brunswick Square is very +different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be +unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town; there is hardly +any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in: but _we_ are +so remarkably airy! Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of Brunswick +Square decidedly the most favorable as to air." + +"Ah, my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of it--but +after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you different +creatures; you do not look like the same. Now, I cannot say that I think +you are any of you looking well at present." + +"I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those +little nervous headaches and palpitations which I am never entirely free +from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were rather +pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were a little +more tired than usual from their journey and the happiness of coming. I +hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow; for I assure you +Mr. Wingfield told me that he did not believe he had ever sent us off, +altogether, in such good case. I trust at least that you do not think +Mr. Knightley looking ill," turning her eyes with affectionate anxiety +toward her husband. + +"Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr. John Knightley +very far from looking well." + +"What is the matter, sir? Did you speak to me?" cried Mr. John +Knightley, hearing his own name. + +"I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you looking +well; but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued. I could have +wished, however, as you know, that you had seen Mr. Wingfield before you +left home." + +"My dear Isabella," exclaimed he hastily, "pray do not concern yourself +about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourself and +the children, and let me look as I choose." + +"I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your brother," +cried Emma, "about your friend Mr. Graham's intending to have a bailiff +from Scotland to look after his new estate. But will it answer? Will not +the old prejudice be too strong?" + +And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forced to +give her attention again to her father and sister, she had nothing worse +to hear than Isabella's kind inquiry after Jane Fairfax; and Jane +Fairfax, though no great favorite with her in general, she was at that +moment very happy to assist in praising. + +"That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!" said Mrs. John Knightley. "It is so +long since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment +accidentally in town. What happiness it must be to her good old +grandmother and excellent aunt when she comes to visit them! I always +regret excessively, on dear Emma's account, that she cannot be more at +Highbury; but now their daughter is married I suppose Colonel and Mrs. +Campbell will not be able to part with her at all. She would be such a +delightful companion for Emma." + +Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added:-- + +"Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another pretty +kind of young person. You will like Harriet. Emma could not have a +better companion than Harriet." + +"I am most happy to hear it; but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be so +very accomplished and superior, and exactly Emma's age." + +This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similar +moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did not +close without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied +a great deal to be said--much praise and many comments--undoubting +decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution, and pretty severe +philippies upon the many houses where it was never met with tolerably; +but unfortunately, among the failures which the daughter had to +instance, the most recent and therefore most prominent was in her own +cook at South End, a young woman hired for the time, who never had been +able to understand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth gruel, thin, +but not too thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered it, she had +never been able to get anything tolerable. Here was a dangerous opening. + +"Ah," said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head, and fixing his eyes on her +with tender concern. The ejaculation in Emma's ear expressed, "Ah, there +is no end of the sad consequences of your going to South End. It does +not bear talking of." And for a little while she hoped he would not talk +of it, and that a silent rumination might suffice to restore him to the +relish of his own smooth gruel. After an interval of some minutes, +however, he began with-- + +"I shall always be very sorry that you went to the sea this autumn, +instead of coming here." + +"But why should you be sorry, sir? I assure you it did the children a +great deal of good." + +"And moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not have been to +South End. South End is an unhealthy place. Perry was surprised to hear +you had fixed upon South End." + +"I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is quite +a mistake, sir. We all had our health perfectly well there, never found +the least inconvenience from the mud, and Mr. Wingfield says it is +entirely a mistake to suppose the place unhealthy; and I am sure he may +be depended on, for he thoroughly understands the nature of the air, and +his own brother and family have been there repeatedly." + +"You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere. Perry +was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of all the +sea-bathing places. A fine open sea, he says, and very pure air. And by +what I understand, you might have had lodgings there quite away from the +sea--a quarter of a mile off--very comfortable. You should have +consulted Perry." + +"But my dear sir, the difference of the journey: only consider how great +it would have been. A hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty." + +"Ah, my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else +should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to +choose between forty miles and a hundred. Better not move at all, better +stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get into a worse +air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to him a very +ill-judged measure." + +Emma's attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he had +reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her +brother-in-law's breaking out. + +"Mr. Perry," said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, "would do +as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why does he make it +any business of his to wonder at what I do at my taking my family to one +part of the coast or another? I may be allowed, I hope, the use of my +judgment as well as Mr. Perry. I want his directions no more than his +drugs." He paused, and growing cooler in a moment, added, with only +sarcastic dryness, "If Mr. Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and +five children a distance of a hundred and thirty miles with no greater +expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as +willing to prefer Cromer to South End as he could himself." + +"True, true," cried Mr. Knightley, with most ready interposition, "very +true. That's a consideration, indeed. But, John, as to what I was +telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more +to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot +conceive any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the +means of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind +exactly the present light of the path--The only way of proving it, +however, will be to turn to our maps. I shall see you at the Abbey +to-morrow morning, I hope, and then we will look them over, and you +shall give me your opinion." + +Mr. Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on his +friend Perry, to whom he had in fact, though unconsciously, been +attributing many of his own feelings and expressions; but the soothing +attentions of his daughters gradually removed the present evil, and the +immediate alertness of one brother, and better recollections of the +other, prevented any renewal of it. + + +FAMILY TRAINING + +From 'Mansfield Park' + +As her [Fanny Price's] appearance and spirits improved, Sir Thomas and +Mrs. Norris thought with greater satisfaction of their benevolent plan; +and it was pretty soon decided between them, that though far from +clever, she showed a tractable disposition, and seemed likely to give +them little trouble. A mean opinion of her abilities was not confined to +_them_. Fanny could read, work, and write, but she had been taught +nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant of many things with +which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, +and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some +fresh report of it into the drawing-room. + +"Dear mamma, only think, my cousin cannot put the map of Europe +together"--or "my cousin cannot tell the principal rivers in Russia"--or +"she never heard of Asia Minor"--or "she does not know the difference +between water-colors and crayons! How strange! Did you ever hear +anything so stupid?" + +"My dear," their aunt would reply, "it is very bad, but you must not +expect everybody to be as quick at learning as yourself." + +"But, aunt, she is really so very ignorant! Do you know, we asked her +last night which way she would go to get to Ireland; and she said she +should cross to the Isle of Wight. She thinks of nothing but the Isle of +Wight, and she calls it _the Island_, as if there were no other island +in the world. I am sure I should have been ashamed of myself, if I had +not known better long before I was so old as she is. I cannot remember +the time when I did not know a great deal that she has not the least +notion of yet. How long ago it is, aunt, since we used to repeat the +chronological order of the kings of England, with the dates of their +accession, and most of the principal events of their reigns!" + +"Yes," added the other; "and of the Roman emperors as low as Severus; +besides a great deal of the heathen mythology, and all the metals, +semi-metals, planets, and distinguished philosophers." + +"Very true, indeed, my dears, but you are blessed with wonderful +memories, and your poor cousin has probably none at all. There is a vast +deal of difference in memories, as well as in everything else; and +therefore you must make allowance for your cousin, and pity her +deficiency. And remember that if you are ever so forward and clever +yourselves, you should always be modest, for, much as you know already, +there is a great deal more for you to learn." + +"Yes, I know there is, till I am seventeen. But I must tell you another +thing of Fanny, so odd and so stupid. Do you know, she says she does not +want to learn either music or drawing?" + +"To be sure, my dear, that is very stupid indeed, and shows a great want +of genius and emulation. But, all things considered, I do not know +whether it is not as well that it should be so: for though you know +(owing to me) your papa and mamma are so good as to bring her up with +you, it is not at all necessary that she should be as accomplished as +you are; on the contrary, it is much more desirable that there should be +a difference." + +Such were the counsels by which Mrs. Norris assisted to form her nieces' +minds; and it is not very wonderful that, with all their promising +talents and early information, they should be entirely deficient in the +less common acquirements of self-knowledge, generosity, and humility. In +everything but disposition, they were admirably taught. Sir Thomas did +not know what was wanting, because, though a truly anxious father, he +was not outwardly affectionate, and the reserve of his manner repressed +all the flow of their spirits before him. + + +PRIVATE THEATRICALS + +From 'Mansfield Park' + +Fanny looked on and listened, not unamused to observe the selfishness +which, more or less disguised, seemed to govern them all, and wondering +how it would end. + +Three of the characters were now cast, besides Mr. Rushworth, who was +always answered for by Maria as willing to do anything; when Julia, +meaning, like her sister, to be Agatha, began to be scrupulous on Miss +Crawford's account. + +"This is not behaving well by the absent," said she. "Here are not women +enough. Amelia and Agatha may do for Maria and me, but here is nothing +for your sister, Mr. Crawford." + +Mr. Crawford desired _that_ might not be thought of; he was very sure +his sister had no wish of acting but as she might be useful, and that +she would not allow herself to be considered in the present case. But +this was immediately opposed by Tom Bertram, who asserted the part of +Amelia to be in every respect the property of Miss Crawford, if she +would accept it. "It falls as naturally as necessarily to her," said he, +"as Agatha does to one or other of my sisters. It can be no sacrifice on +their side, for it is highly comic." + +A short silence followed. Each sister looked anxious; for each felt the +best claim to Agatha, and was hoping to have it pressed on her by the +rest. Henry Crawford, who meanwhile had taken up the play, and with +seeming carelessness was turning over the first act, soon settled +the business. + +"I must entreat Miss _Julia_ Bertram," said he, "not to engage in the +part of Agatha, or it will be the ruin of all my solemnity. You must +not, indeed you must not [turning to her]. I could not stand your +countenance dressed up in woe and paleness. The many laughs we have had +together would infallibly come across me, and Frederick and his knapsack +would be obliged to run away." + +Pleasantly, courteously, it was spoken; but the manner was lost in the +matter to Julia's feelings. She saw a glance at Maria, which confirmed +the injury to herself: it was a scheme, a trick; she was slighted, Maria +was preferred; the smile of triumph which Maria was trying to suppress +showed how well it was understood: and before Julia could command +herself enough to speak, her brother gave his weight against her too, +by saying, "Oh yes! Maria must be Agatha. Maria will be the best Agatha. +Though Julia fancies she prefers tragedy, I would not trust her in it. +There is nothing of tragedy about her. She has not the look of it. Her +features are not tragic features, and she walks too quick, and speaks +too quick, and would not keep her countenance. She had better do the old +countrywoman--the Cottager's wife; you had, indeed, Julia. Cottager's +wife is a very pretty part, I assure you. The old lady relieves the +high-flown benevolence of her husband with a good deal of spirit. You +shall be the Cottager's wife." + +"Cottager's wife!" cried Mr. Yates. "What are you talking of? The most +trivial, paltry, insignificant part; the merest commonplace; not a +tolerable speech in the whole. Your sister do that! It is an insult to +propose it. At Ecclesford the governess was to have done it. We all +agreed that it could not be offered to anybody else. A little more +justice, Mr. Manager, if you please. You do not deserve the office if +you cannot appreciate the talents of your company a little better." + +"Why, as to _that_, my good friends, till I and my company have really +acted, there must be some guesswork; but I mean no disparagement to +Julia. We cannot have two Agathas, and we must have one Cottager's wife; +and I am sure I set her the example of moderation myself in being +satisfied with the old Butler. If the part is trifling she will have +more credit in making something of it: and if she is so desperately bent +against everything humorous, let her take Cottager's speeches instead of +Cottager's wife's, and so change the parts all through; _he_ is solemn +and pathetic enough, I am sure. It could make no difference in the play; +and as for Cottager himself, when he has got his wife's speeches, _I_ +would undertake him with all my heart." + +"With all your partiality for Cottager's wife," said Henry Crawford, "it +will be impossible to make anything of it fit for your sister, and we +must not suffer her good nature to be imposed on. We must not _allow_ +her to accept the part. She must not be left to her own complaisance. +Her talents will be wanted in Amelia. Amelia is a character more +difficult to be well represented than even Agatha. I consider Amelia as +the most difficult character in the whole piece. It requires great +powers, great nicety, to give her playfulness and simplicity without +extravagance. I have seen good actresses fail in the part. Simplicity, +indeed, is beyond the reach of almost every actress by profession. It +requires a delicacy of feeling which they have not. It requires a +gentlewoman--a Julia Bertram. You _will_ undertake it, I hope?" turning +to her with a look of anxious entreaty, which softened her a little; but +while she hesitated what to say, her brother again interposed with Miss +Crawford's better claim. + +"No, no, Julia must not be Amelia. It is not at all the part for her. +She would not like it. She would not do well. She is too tall and +robust. Amelia should be a small, light, girlish, skipping figure. It is +fit for Miss Crawford, and Miss Crawford only. She looks the part, and I +am persuaded will do it admirably." + +Without attending to this, Henry Crawford continued his supplication. +"You must oblige us," said he, "indeed you must. When you have studied +the character I am sure you will feel it suits you. Tragedy may be your +choice, but it will certainly appear that comedy chooses _you_. You will +have to visit me in prison with a basket of provisions; you will not +refuse to visit me in prison? I think I see you coming in with +your basket." + +The influence of his voice was felt. Julia wavered; but was he only +trying to soothe and pacify her, and make her overlook the previous +affront? She distrusted him. The slight had been most determined. He +was, perhaps, but at treacherous play with her. She looked suspiciously +at her sister; Maria's countenance was to decide it; if she were vexed +and alarmed--but Maria looked all serenity and satisfaction, and Julia +well knew that on this ground Maria could not be happy but at her +expense. With hasty indignation, therefore, and a tremulous voice, she +said to him, "You do not seem afraid of not keeping your countenance +when I come in with a basket of provisions--though one might have +supposed--but it is only as Agatha that I was to be so overpowering!" +She stopped, Henry Crawford looked rather foolish, and as if he did not +know what to say. Tom Bertram began again:-- + +"Miss Crawford must be Amelia. She will be an excellent Amelia." + +"Do not be afraid of _my_ wanting the character," cried Julia, with +angry quickness: "I am _not_ to be Agatha, and I am sure I will do +nothing else; and as to Amelia, it is of all parts in the world the +most disgusting to me. I quite detest her. An odious little, pert, +unnatural, impudent girl. I have always protested against comedy, and +this is comedy in its worst form." And so saying, she walked hastily out +of the room, leaving awkward feelings to more than one, but exciting +small compassion in any except Fanny, who had been a quiet auditor of +the whole, and who could not think of her as under the agitations of +_jealousy_ without great pity.... + +The inattention of the two brothers and the aunt to Julia's +discomposure, and their blindness to its true cause, must be imputed to +the fullness of their own minds. They were totally preoccupied. Tom was +engrossed by the concerns of his theatre, and saw nothing that did not +immediately relate to it. Edmund, between his theatrical and his real +part--between Miss Crawford's claims and his own conduct--between love +and consistency, was equally unobservant: and Mrs. Norris was too busy +in contriving and directing the general little matters of the company, +superintending their various dresses with economical expedients, for +which nobody thanked her, and saving, with delighted integrity, +half-a-crown here and there to the absent Sir Thomas, to have leisure +for watching the behavior, or guarding the happiness, of his daughters. + + +FRUITLESS REGRETS AND APPLES OF SODOM + +From 'Mansfield Park' + +These were the circumstances and the hopes which gradually brought their +alleviation to Sir Thomas, deadening his sense of what was lost, and in +part reconciling him to himself; though the anguish arising from the +conviction of his own errors in the education of his daughters was never +to be entirely done away. + +Too late he became aware how unfavorable to the character of any young +people must be the totally opposite treatment which Maria and Julia had +been always experiencing at home, where the excessive indulgence and +flattery of their aunt had been continually contrasted with his own +severity. He saw how ill he had judged, in expecting to counteract what +was wrong in Mrs. Norris by its reverse in himself, clearly saw that he +had but increased the evil, by teaching them to repress their spirits +in his presence so as to make their real disposition unknown to him, +and sending them for all their indulgences to a person who had been able +to attach them only by the blindness of her affection and the excess of +her praise. + +Here had been grievous mismanagement; but, bad as it was, he gradually +grew to feel that it had not been the most direful mistake in his plan +of education. Something must have been wanting _within_, or time would +have worn away much of its ill effect. He feared that principle, active +principle, had been wanting; that they had never been properly taught to +govern their inclinations and tempers, by that sense of duty which can +alone suffice. They had been instructed theoretically in their religion, +but never required to bring it into daily practice. To be distinguished +for elegance and accomplishments--the authorized object of their +youth--could have had no useful influence that way, no moral effect on +the mind. He had meant them to be good, but his cares had been directed +to the understanding and manners, not the disposition; and of the +necessity of self-denial and humility, he feared they had never heard +from any lips that could profit them. + +Bitterly did he deplore a deficiency which now he could scarcely +comprehend to have been possible. Wretchedly did he feel, that with all +the cost and care of an anxious and expensive education, he had brought +up his daughters without their understanding their first duties, or his +being acquainted with their character and temper. + +The high spirit and strong passions of Mrs. Rushworth especially were +made known to him only in their sad result. She was not to be prevailed +on to leave Mr. Crawford. She hoped to marry him, and they continued +together till she was obliged to be convinced that such hope was vain, +and till the disappointment and wretchedness arising from the conviction +rendered her temper so bad, and her feelings for him so like hatred, as +to make them for a while each other's punishment, and then induce a +voluntary separation. + +She had lived with him to be reproached as the ruin of all his happiness +in Fanny, and carried away no better consolation in leaving him, than +that she _had_ divided them. What can exceed the misery of such a mind +in such a situation! + +Mr. Rushworth had no difficulty in procuring a divorce; and so ended a +marriage contracted under such circumstances as to make any better end +the effect of good luck, not to be reckoned on. She had despised him, +and loved another--and he had been very much aware that it was so. The +indignities of stupidity, and the disappointments of selfish passion, +can excite little pity. His punishment followed his conduct, as did a +deeper punishment the deeper guilt of his wife. _He_ was released from +the engagement, to be mortified and unhappy till some other pretty girl +could attract him into matrimony again, and he might set forward on a +second, and it is to be hoped more prosperous trial of the state--if +duped, to be duped at least with good humor and good luck; while _she_ +must withdraw with infinitely stronger feelings, to a retirement and +reproach which could allow no second spring of hope or character. + +Where she could be placed, became a subject of most melancholy and +momentous consultation. Mrs. Norris, whose attachment seemed to augment +with the demerits of her niece, would have had her received at home and +countenanced by them all. Sir Thomas would not hear of it; and Mrs. +Norris's anger against Fanny was so much the greater, from considering +_her_ residence there as the motive. She persisted in placing his +scruples to _her_ account, though Sir Thomas very solemnly assured her +that had there been no young woman in question, had there been no young +person of either sex belonging to him, to be endangered by the society +or hurt by the character of Mrs. Rushworth, he would never have offered +so great an insult to the neighborhood as to expect it to notice her. As +a daughter--he hoped a penitent one--she should be protected by him, and +secured in every comfort and supported by every encouragement to do +right which their relative situations admitted; but farther than _that_ +he would not go. Maria had destroyed her own character; and he would +not, by a vain attempt to restore what never could be restored, be +affording his sanction to vice, or, in seeking to lessen its disgrace, +be anywise accessory to introducing such misery in another man's family +as he had known himself.... + +Henry Crawford, ruined by early independence and bad domestic example, +indulged in the freaks of a cold-blooded vanity a little too long. Once +it had, by an opening undesigned and unmerited, led him into the way of +happiness. Could he have been satisfied with the conquest of one amiable +woman's affections, could he have found sufficient exultation in +overcoming the reluctance, in working himself into the esteem and +tenderness of Fanny Price, there would have been every probability of +success and felicity for him. His affection had already done something. +Her influence over him had already given him some influence over her. +Would he have deserved more, there can be no doubt that more would have +been obtained; especially when that marriage had taken place, which +would have given him the assistance of her conscience in subduing her +first inclination, and brought them very often together. Would he have +persevered, and uprightly, Fanny must have been his reward--and a reward +very voluntarily bestowed--within a reasonable period from Edmund's +marrying Mary. Had he done as he intended, and as he knew he ought, by +going down to Everingham after his return from Portsmouth, he might have +been deciding his own happy destiny. But he was pressed to stay for Mrs. +Fraser's party: his staying was made of flattering consequence, and he +was to meet Mrs. Rushworth there. Curiosity and vanity were both +engaged, and the temptation of immediate pleasure was too strong for a +mind unused to make any sacrifice to right; he resolved to defer his +Norfolk journey, resolved that writing should answer the purpose of it, +or that its purpose was unimportant--and staid. He saw Mrs. Rushworth, +was received by her with a coldness which ought to have been repulsive, +and have established apparent indifference between them for ever: but he +was mortified, he could not bear to be thrown off by the woman whose +smiles had been so wholly at his command; he must exert himself to +subdue so proud a display of resentment: it was anger on Fanny's +account; he must get the better of it, and make Mrs. Rushworth Maria +Bertram again in her treatment of himself. + +In this spirit he began the attack; and by animated perseverance had +soon re-established the sort of familiar intercourse--of gallantry--of +flirtation--which bounded his views: but in triumphing over the +discretion, which, though beginning in anger, might have saved them +both, he had put himself in the power of feelings on her side more +strong than he had supposed. She loved him; there was no withdrawing +attentions avowedly dear to her. He was entangled by his own vanity, +with as little excuse of love as possible, and without the smallest +inconstancy of mind towards her cousin. To keep Fanny and the Bertrams +from a knowledge of what was passing became his first object. Secrecy +could not have been more desirable for Mrs. Rushworth's credit than he +felt it for his own. When he returned from Richmond, he would have been +glad to see Mrs. Rushworth no more. All that followed was the result of +her imprudence; and he went off with her at last because he could not +help it, regretting Fanny even at the moment, but regretting her +infinitely more when all the bustle of the intrigue was over, and a very +few months had taught him, by the force of contrast, to place a yet +higher value on the sweetness of her temper, the purity of her mind, and +the excellence of her principles. + +That punishment, the public punishment of disgrace, should in a just +measure attend _his_ share of the offense, is, we know, not one of the +barriers which society gives to virtue. In this world, the penalty is +less equal than could be wished; but without presuming to look forward +to a juster appointment hereafter, we may fairly consider a man of +sense, like Henry Crawford, to be providing for himself no small portion +of vexation and regret--vexation that must rise sometimes to +self-reproach, and regret to wretchedness--in having so requited +hospitality, so injured family peace, so forfeited his best, most +estimable, and endeared acquaintance, and so lost the woman whom he had +rationally as well as passionately loved. + + + + +AVERROES + +(1126-1198) + + +Averroes (Abu 'l Walid Muhammad, ibn Achmad, ibn Muhammad, IBN RUSHD; or +more in English, Abu 'l Walid Muhammed, the son of Achmet, the son of +Muhammed, the son of Rushd) was born in 1126 at Cordova, Spain. His +father and grandfather, the latter a celebrated jurist and canonist, had +been judges in that city. He first studied theology and canon law, and +later medicine and philosophy; thus, like Faust, covering the whole +field of mediaeal science. His life was cast in the most brilliant period +of Western Muslim culture, in the splendor of that rationalism which +preceded the great darkness of religious fanaticism. As a young man, he +was introduced by Ibn Tufail (Abubacer), author of the famous 'Hayy +al-Yukdhan,' a philosophical 'Robinson Crusoe,' to the enlightened +Khalif Abu Ya'kub Yusuf (1163-84), as a fit expounder of the then +popular philosophy of Aristotle. This position he filled with so much +success as to become a favorite with the Prince, and finally his private +physician. He likewise filled the important office of judge, first at +Seville, later at Cordova. + +He enjoyed even greater consideration under the next Khalif, Ya'kub +al-Mansur, until the year 1195, when the jealousy of his rivals and the +fanaticism of the Berbers led to his being accused of championing +philosophy to the detriment of religion. Though Averroes always +professed great respect for religion, and especially for Islam, as a +valuable popular substitute for science and philosophy, the charge could +hardly be rebutted (as will be shown later), and the Amir of the +Faithful could scarcely afford openly to favor a heretic. Averroes was +accordingly deprived of his honors, and banished to Lacena, a Jewish +settlement near Cordova--a fact which gives coloring to the belief that +he was of Jewish descent. To satisfy his fanatical subjects for the +moment, the Khalif published severe edicts not only against Averroes, +but against all learned men and all learning as hostile to religion. For +a time the poor philosopher could not appear in public without being +mobbed; but after two years, a less fanatical party having come into +power, the Prince revoked his edicts, and Averroes was restored to +favor. This event he did not long survive. He died on 10th December +1198, in Marocco. Here too he was buried; but his body was afterward +transported to Cordova, and laid in the tomb of his fathers. He left +several sons, more than one of whom came to occupy important positions. + +Averroes was the last great Muslim thinker, summing up and carrying to +its conclusions the thought of four hundred years. The philosophy of +Islam, which flourished first in the East, in Basra and Bagdad +(800-1100), and then in the West, Cordova, Toledo, etc. (1100-1200), was +a mixture of Aristotelianism and Neo-Platonism, borrowed, under the +earlier Persianizing Khalifs, from the Christian (mainly Nestorian) +monks of Syria and Mesopotamia, being consequently a naturalistic +system. In it God was acknowledged only as the supreme abstraction; +while eternal matter, law, and impersonal intelligence played the +principal part. It was necessarily irreconcilable with Muslim orthodoxy, +in which a crudely conceived, intensely personal God is all in all. +While Persian influence was potent, philosophy flourished, produced some +really great scholars and thinkers, made considerable headway against +Muslim fatalism and predestination, and seemed in a fair way to bring +about a free and rational civilization, eminent in science and art. But +no sooner did the fanatical or scholastic element get the upper hand +than philosophy vanished, and with it all hope of a great Muslim +civilization in the East. This change was marked by Al-Ghazzali, and his +book 'The Destruction of the Philosophers.' He died in A.D. 1111, and +then the works of Al-Farabi, Ibn-Sina, and the "Brothers of Purity," +wandered out to the far West, to seek for appreciation among the Muslim, +Jews, and Christians of Spain. And for a brief time they found it there, +and in the twelfth century found also eloquent expounders at the +mosque-schools of Cordova, Toledo, Seville, and Saragossa. Of these the +most famous were Ibn Baja, Ibn Tufail, and Ibn Rushd (Averroes). + +During its progress, Muslim philosophy had gradually been eliminating +the Neo-Platonic, mystic element, and returning to pure Aristotelianism. +In Averroes, who professed to be merely a commentator on Aristotle, this +tendency reached its climax; and though he still regarded the +pseudo-Aristotelian works as genuine, and did not entirely escape their +influence, he is by far the least mystic of Muslim thinkers. The two +fundamental doctrines upon which he always insisted, and which long made +his name famous, not to say notorious, the eternity of matter and of the +world (involving a denial of the doctrine of creation), and the oneness +of the active intellect in all men (involving the mortality of the +individual soul and the impossibility of resurrection and judgment), are +both of Aristotelian origin. It was no wonder that he came into conflict +with the orthodox Muslim; for in the warfare between Arab prophetism, +with its shallow apologetic scholasticism, and Greek philosophy, with +its earnest endeavor to find truth, and its belief in reason as the sole +revealer thereof, he unhesitatingly took the side of the latter. He held +that man is made to discover truth, and that the serious study of God +and his works is the noblest form of worship. + +However little one may agree with his chief tenets, there can be no +doubt that he was the most enlightened man of the entire Middle Age, in +Europe at least; and if his spirit and work had been continued, Western +Islam might have become a great permanent civilizing power. But here +again, after a brief period of extraordinary philosophic brilliancy, +fanaticism got the upper hand. With the death of Averroes the last hope +of a beneficent Muslim civilization came to an end. Since then, Islam +has been a synonym for blind fanaticism and cruel bigotry. In many parts +of the Muslim world, "philosopher" is a term of reproach, like +"miscreant." + +But though Islam rejected its philosopher, Averroes's work was by no +means without its effect. It was through his commentaries on Aristotle +that the thought of that greatest of ancient thinkers became known to +the western world, both Jewish and Christian. Among the Jews, his +writings soon acquired almost canonical authority. His system found +expression in the works of the best known of Hebrew thinkers, +Maimonides (1135-1204), "the second Moses" works which, despite all +orthodox opposition, dominated Jewish thought for nearly three hundred +years, and made the Jews during that time the chief promoters of +rationalism. When Muslim persecution forced a large number of Jews to +leave Spain and settle in Southern France, the works of Averroes and +Maimonides were translated into Hebrew, which thenceforth became the +vehicle of Jewish thought; and thus Muslim Aristotelianism came into +direct contact with Christianity. + +Among the Christians, the works of Averroes, translated by Michael +Scott, "wizard of dreaded fame," Hermann the German, and others, acted +at once like a mighty solvent. Heresy followed in their track, and shook +the Church to her very foundations. Recognizing that her existence was +at stake, she put forth all her power to crush the intruder. The Order +of Preachers, initiated by St. Dominic of Calahorra (1170-1221), was +founded; the Inquisition was legalized (about 1220). The writings of +Aristotle and his Arab commentators were condemned to the flames (1209, +1215, 1231). Later, when all this proved unavailing, the best intellects +in Christendom, such as Albertus Magnus (1193-1280), and Thomas Aquinas +(1227-74), undertook to repel the new doctrine with its own weapons; +that is, by submitting the thought of Aristotle and his Arab +commentators to rational discussion. Thus was introduced the second or +palmy period of Christian Scholasticism, whose chief industry, we may +fairly say, was directed to the refutation of the two leading doctrines +of Averroes. Aiming at this, Thomas Aquinas threw the whole dogmatic +system of the Church into the forms of Aristotle, and thus produced that +colossal system of theology which still prevails in the Roman Catholic +world; witness the Encyclical _AEterni Patris_ of Leo XIII., issued +in 1879. + +By the great thinkers of the thirteenth century, Averroes, though +regarded as heretical and dangerous in religion, was looked up to as an +able thinker, and the commentator _par excellence_; so much so that St. +Thomas borrowed from him the very form of his own Commentaries, and +Dante assigned him a distinguished place, beside Plato and Aristotle, in +the limbo of ancient sages ('Inferno,' iv. 143). But in the following +century--mainly, no doubt, because he was chosen as the patron of +certain strongly heretical movements, such as those instigated by the +arch-rationalist Frederic II--he came to be regarded as the precursor of +Antichrist, if not that personage himself: being credited with the awful +blasphemy of having spoken of the founders of the three current +religions--Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad--as "the three impostors." +Whatever truth there may be in this, so much is certain, that +infidelity, in the sense of an utter disbelief in Christianity as a +revealed religion, or in any sense specially true, dates from the +thirteenth century, and is due in large measure to the influence of +Averroes. Yet he was a great favorite with the Franciscans, and for a +time exercised a profound influence on the universities of Paris and +Oxford, finding a strong admirer even in Roger Bacon. His thought was +also a powerful element in the mysticism of Meister Eckhart and his +followers; a mysticism which incurred the censure of the Church. + +Thus both the leading forms of heresy which characterized the thirteenth +century--naturalism with its tendency to magic, astrology, alchemy, +etc., etc., and mysticism with its dreams of beatific visions, its +self-torture and its lawlessness (see Goerres, 'Die Christliche +Mystik')--were due largely to Averroes. In spite of this, his +commentaries on Aristotle maintained their credit, their influence being +greatest in the fourteenth century, when his doctrines were openly +professed. After the invention of printing, they appeared in numberless +editions,--several times in connection with the text of Aristotle. As +the age of the Renaissance and of Protestantism approached, they +gradually lost their prestige. The chief humanists, like Petrarch, as +well as the chief reformers, were bitterly hostile to them. +Nevertheless, they contributed important elements to both movements. + +Averroism survived longest in Northern Italy, especially in the +University of Padua, where it was professed until the seventeenth +century, and where, as a doctrine hostile to supernaturalism, it paved +the way for the study of nature and the rise of modern science. Thus +Averroes may fairly be said to have had a share in every movement toward +freedom, wise and unwise, for the last seven hundred years. In truth, +free thought in Europe owes more to him than to any other man except +Abelard. His last declared follower was the impetuous Lucilio Vanini, +who was burned for atheism at Toulouse in 1619. + +The best work on Averroes is Renan's 'Averroes et l'Averroisme' (fourth +edition, Paris, 1893). This contains, on pages 58-79, a complete list +both of his commentaries and his original writings. + + + + +THE AVESTA + +(From about B.C. Sixth Century) + +BY A.V. WILLIAMS JACKSON + + +Avesta, or Zend-Avesta, an interesting monument of antiquity, is the +Bible of Zoroaster, the sacred book of ancient Iran, and holy scripture +of the modern Parsis. The exact meaning of the name "Avesta" is not +certain; it may perhaps signify "law," "text," or, more doubtfully, +"wisdom," "revelation." The modern familiar designation of the book as +Zend-Avesta is not strictly accurate; if used at all, it should rather +be Avesta-Zend, like "Bible and Commentary," as _zand_ signifies +"explanation," "commentary," and _Avesta u Zand_ is employed in some +Persian allusions to the Zoroastrian scriptures as a designation +denoting the text of the Avesta accompanied by the Pahlavi version or +interpretation. + +The story of the recovery of the Avesta, or rather the discovery of the +Avesta, by the enthusiastic young French scholar Anquetil du Perron, who +was the first to open to the western world the ancient records of +Zoroastrianism, reads almost like a romance. Du Perron's own account of +his departure for India in 1754, of his experiences with the _dasturs_ +(or priests) during a seven years' residence among them, of his various +difficulties and annoyances, setbacks and successes, is entertainingly +presented in the introductory volume of his work 'Zend-Avesta, Ouvrage +de Zoroastre' (3 Vols., Paris, 1771). This was the first translation of +the ancient Persian books published in a European language. Its +appearance formed one of those epochs which are marked by an addition to +the literary, religious, or philosophical wealth of our time; a new +contribution was added to the riches of the West from the treasures of +the East. The field thus thrown open, although worked imperfectly at +first, has yielded abundant harvests to the hands of later gleaners. + +_THE ZEND-AVESTA._ + +Facsimile of a Page of the AVESTA; from the oldest preserved manuscript +containing the YACNA. A. D. 1325. In the Royal Library at Copenhagen. + +The Zend-Avesta--more properly the Avesta-Zend, i.e., "Text and +Commentary" is the "Bible" of the Persians. The four parts into which it +is divided are called Yacna, Vispered, Vendidad, and Khordah-Avesta. + +[Illustration] + +With the growth of our knowledge of the language of the sacred texts, we +have now a clear idea also of the history of Zoroastrian literature and +of the changes and chances through which with varying fortunes the +scriptures have passed. The original Zoroastrian Avesta, according to +tradition, was in itself a literature of vast dimensions. Pliny, in his +'Natural History,' speaks of two million verses of Zoroaster; to which +may be added the Persian assertion that the original copy of the +scriptures was written upon twelve thousand parchments, with gold +illuminated letters, and was deposited in the library at Persepolis. But +what was the fate of this archetype? Parsi tradition has an answer. +Alexander the Great--"the accursed Iskander," as he is called--is +responsible for its destruction. At the request of the beautiful Thais, +as the story goes, he allowed the palace of Persepolis to be burned, and +the precious treasure perished in the flames. Whatever view we may take +of the different sides of this story, one thing cannot be denied: the +invasion of Alexander and the subjugation of Iran was indirectly or +directly the cause of a certain religious decadence which followed upon +the disruption of the Persian Empire, and was answerable for the fact +that a great part of the scriptures was forgotten or fell into disuse. +Persian tradition lays at the doors of the Greeks the loss of another +copy of the original ancient texts, but does not explain in what manner +this happened; nor has it any account to give of copies of the prophet's +works which Semitic writers say were translated into nearly a dozen +different languages. One of these versions was perhaps Greek, for it is +generally acknowledged that in the fourth century B.C. the philosopher +Theopompus spent much time in giving in his own tongue the contents of +the sacred Magian books. + +Tradition is unanimous on one point at least: it is that the original +Avesta comprised twenty-one _Nasks_, or books, a statement which there +is no good reason to doubt. The same tradition which was acquainted with +the general character of these Nasks professes also to tell exactly how +many of them survived the inroad of Alexander; for although the sacred +text itself was destroyed, its contents were lost only in part, the +priests preserving large portions of the precious scriptures. These met +with many vicissitudes in the five centuries that intervened between the +conquest of Alexander and the great restoration of Zoroastrianism in the +third century of our era, under the Sassanian dynasty. At this period +all obtainable Zoroastrian scriptures were collected, the compilation +was codified, and a detailed notice made of the contents of each of the +original Nasks compared with the portions then surviving. The original +Avesta was, it would appear, a sort of encyclopaedic work; not of +religion alone, but of useful knowledge relating to law, to the arts, +science, the professions, and to every-day life. If we may judge from +the existing table of contents of these Nasks, the zealous Sassanians, +even in the time of the collecting (A. D. 226-380), were able to restore +but a fragment of the archetype, perhaps a fourth part of the original +Avesta. Nor was this remnant destined to escape misfortune. The +Mohammedan invasion, in the seventh century of our era added a final and +crushing blow. Much of the religion that might otherwise have been +handed down to us, despite "the accursed Iskander's" conquest, now +perished through the sword and the Koran. Its loss, we must remember, is +in part compensated by the Pahlavi religious literature of +Sassanian days. + +Fragmentary and disjointed as are the remnants of the Avesta, we are +fortunate in possessing even this moiety of the Bible of Zoroaster, +whose compass is about one tenth that of our own sacred book. A grouping +of the existing texts is here presented:--1. Yasna (including Gathas). +2. Visperad. 3. Yashts. 4. Minor Texts. 5. Vendidad. 6. Fragments. + +Even these texts no single manuscript in our time contains complete. The +present collection is made by combining various Avestan codexes. In +spite of the great antiquity of the literature, all the existing +manuscripts are comparatively young. None is older than the thirteenth +century of our own era, while the direct history of only one or two can +be followed back to about the tenth century. This mere external +circumstance has of course no bearing on the actual early age of the +Zoroastrian scriptures. It must be kept in mind that Zoroaster lived at +least six centuries before the birth of Christ. + +Among the six divisions of our present Avesta, the Yasna, Visperad, and +Vendidad are closely connected. They are employed in the daily ritual, +and they are also accompanied by a version or interpretation in the +Pahlavi language, which serves at the same time as a sort of commentary. +The three divisions are often found combined into a sort of prayer-book, +called Vendidad-Sadah (Vendidad Pure); i.e., Avesta text without the +Pahlavi rendering. The chapters in this case are arranged with special +reference to liturgical usage. + +Some idea of the character of the Avesta as it now exists may be derived +from the following sketch of its contents and from the illustrative +selections presented:-- + +1. _Yasna_ (sacrifice, worship), the chief liturgical work of the sacred +canon. It consists mainly of ascriptions of praise and of prayer, and +corresponds nearly to our idea of a prayer-book. The Yasna comprises +seventy-two chapters; these fall into three nearly equal parts. The +middle, or oldest part, is the section of Gathas below described. + +The meaning of the word _yasna_ as above gives at once some conception +of the nature of the texts. The Yasna chapters were recited at the +sacrifice: a sacrifice that consisted not in blood-offerings, but in an +offering of praise and thanksgiving, accompanied by ritual observances. +The white-robed priest, girt with the sacred cord and wearing a veil, +the _paitidana_, before his lips in the presence of the holy fire, +begins the service by an invocation of Ahura Mazda (Ormazd) and the +heavenly hierarchy; he then consecrates the _zaothra_ water, the +_myazda_ or oblation, and the _baresma_ or bundle of sacred twigs. He +and his assistant now prepare the _haoma_ (the _soma_ of the Hindus), or +juice of a sacred plant, the drinking of which formed part of the +religious rite. At the ninth chapter of the book, the rhythmical +chanting of the praises of Haoma is begun. This deified being, a +personification of the consecrated drink, is supposed to have appeared +before the prophet himself, and to have described to him the blessings +which the _haoma_ bestows upon its pious worshiper. The lines are +metrical, as in fact they commonly are in the older parts of the Avesta, +and the rhythm somewhat recalls the Kalevala verse of Longfellow's +'Hiawatha.' A specimen is here presented in translation:-- + + At the time of morning-worship + Haoma came to Zoroaster, + Who was serving at the Fire + And the holy Psalms intoning. + + "What man art thou (asked the Prophet), + Who of all the world material + Art the fairest I have e'er seen + In my life, bright and immortal?" + +The image of the sacred plant responds, and bids the priest prepare the +holy extract. + + Haoma then to me gave answer, + Haoma righteous, death-destroying:-- + "Zoroaster, I am Haoma, + Righteous Haoma, death-destroying. + Do thou gather me, Spitama, + And prepare me as a potion; + Praise me, aye as shall hereafter + In their praise the Saviors praise me." + +Zoroaster again inquires, wishing to know of the pious men of old who +worshiped Haoma and obtained blessings for their religious zeal. Among +these, as is learned from Haoma, one was King Yima, whose reign was the +time of the Golden Age; those were the happy days when a father looked +as young as his children. + + In the reign of princely Yima, + Heat there was not, cold there was not, + Neither age nor death existed, + Nor disease the work of Demons; + + Son and father walked together + Fifteen years old, each in figure, + Long as Vivanghvat's son Yima, + The good Shepherd, ruled as sovereign. + +For two chapters more, Haoma is extolled. Then follows the Avestan Creed +(Yasna 12), a prose chapter that was repeated by those who joined in +the early Zoroastrian faith, forsook the old marauding and nomadic +habits that still characterize the modern Kurds, and adopted an +agricultural habit of life, devoting themselves peaceably to +cattle-raising, irrigation, and cultivation of the fields. The greater +part of the Yasna book is of a liturgic or ritualistic nature, and need +not here be further described. Special mention, however, must be made of +the middle section of the Yasna, which is constituted by "the Five +Gathas" (hymns, psalms), a division containing the seventeen sacred +psalms, sayings, sermons, or teachings of Zoroaster himself. These +Gathas form the oldest part of the entire canon of the Avesta. In them +we see before our eyes the prophet of the new faith speaking with the +fervor of the Psalmist of the Bible. In them we feel the thrill of ardor +that characterizes a new and struggling religious band; we are warmed by +the burning zeal of the preacher of a church militant. Now, however, +comes a cry of despondency, a moment of faint-heartedness at the present +triumph of evil, at the success of the wicked and the misery of the +righteous; but this gives way to a clarion burst of hopefulness, the +trumpet note of a prophet filled with the promise of ultimate victory, +the triumph of good over evil. The end of the world cannot be far away; +the final overthrow of Ahriman (Anra Mainyu) by Ormazd (Ahura Mazda) is +assured; the establishment of a new order of things is certain; at the +founding of this "kingdom" the resurrection of the dead will take place +and the life eternal will be entered upon. + +The third Gatha, Yasna 30, may be chosen by way of illustration. This is +a sort of Mazdian Sermon on the Mount. Zoroaster preaches the doctrine +of dualism, the warfare of good and evil in the world, and exhorts the +faithful to choose aright and to combat Satan. The archangels Good +Thought (Vohu Manah), Righteousness (Asha), Kingdom (Khshathra), appear +as the helpers of Man (Maretan); for whose soul, as in the old English +morality play, the Demons (Daevas) are contending. Allusions to the +resurrection and final judgment, and to the new dispensation, are easily +recognized in the spirited words of the prophet. A prose rendering of +this metrical psalm is here attempted; the verse order, however, is +preserved, though without rhythm. + + +A PSALM OF ZOROASTER: YASNA 30 + + Now shall I speak of things which ye who seek them shall bear + in mind, Namely, the praises of Ahura Mazda and the worship + of Good Thought, And the joy of [_lit_. through] + Righteousness which is manifested through Light. + + 2 + + Hearken with your ears to what is best; with clear + understanding perceive it. + + Awakening to our advising every man, personally, of the + distinction Between the two creeds, before the Great Event + [i.e., the Resurrection]. + + 3 + + Now, Two Spirits primeval there were twins which became known + through their activity, + + To wit, the Good and the Evil, in thought, word, and deed. + The wise have rightly distinguished between these two; not so + the unwise. + + 4 + + And, now, when these Two Spirits first came together, they + established Life and destruction, and ordained how the world + hereafter shall be, To wit, the Worst World [Hell] for the + wicked, but the Best Thought [Heaven] for the righteous. + + 5 + + The Wicked One [Ahriman] of these Two Spirits chose to do + evil, The Holiest Spirit [Ormazd]--who wears the solid + heavens as a robe--chose Righteousness [Asha], And [so also + those] who zealously gratified Ormazd by virtuous deeds. + + 6 + + Not rightly did the Demons distinguish these Two Spirits; for + Delusion came Upon them, as they were deliberating, so that + they chose the Worst Thought [Hell]. And away they rushed to + Wrath [the Fiend] in order to corrupt the life of Man + [Maretan]. + + 7 + + And to him [i.e., to Gaya Maretan] came Khshathra [Kingdom], + Vohu Manah [Good Thought] and Asha [Righteousness], And + Armaiti [Archangel of Earth] gave [to him] bodily endurance + unceasingly; Of these, Thy [creatures], when Thou earnest + with Thy creations, he [i.e., Gaya Maretan] was the first. + + 8 + + But when the retribution of the sinful shall come to pass, + Then shall Good Thought distribute Thy Kingdom, Shall fulfill + it for those who shall deliver Satan [Druj] into the hand of + Righteousness [Asha]. + + 9 + + And so may we be such as make the world renewed, And may + Ahura Mazda and Righteousness lend their aid, That our + thoughts may there be [set] where Faith is abiding. + + 10 + + For at the [final] Dispensation, the blow of annihilation to + Satan shall come to pass; But those who participate in a good + report [in the Life Record] shall meet together In the happy + home of Good Thought, and of Mazda, and of Righteousness. + + 11 + + If, O ye men, ye mark these doctrines which Mazda gave, And + [mark] the weal and the woe--namely, the long torment of the + wicked, And the welfare of the righteous--then in accordance + with these [doctrines] there will be happiness hereafter. + +The _Visperad_ (all the masters) is a short collection of prosaic +invocations and laudations of sacred things. Its twenty-four sections +form a supplement to the Yasna. Whatever interest this division of the +Avesta possesses lies entirely on the side of the ritual, and not in the +field of literature. In this respect it differs widely from the book of +the Yashts, which is next to be mentioned. + +The _Yashts_ (praises of worship) form a poetical book of twenty-one +hymns in which the angels of the religion, "the worshipful ones" +(_Yazatas, Izads_), are glorified, and the heroes of former days. Much +of the material of the Yashts is evidently drawn from pre-Zoroastrian +sagas which have been remodeled and adopted, worked over and modified, +and incorporated into the canon of the new-founded religion. There is a +mythological and legendary atmosphere about the Yashts, and Firdausi's +'Shah Nameh' serves to throw light on many of the events portrayed in +them, or allusions that would otherwise be obscure. All the longer +Yashts are in verse, and some of them have poetic merit. Chiefly to be +mentioned among the longer ones are: first, the one in praise of Ardvi +Sura Anahita, or the stream celestial (Yt. 5); second, the Yasht which +exalts the star Tishtrya and his victory over the demon of drought (Yt. +8); then the one devoted to the Fravashis or glorified souls of the +righteous (Yt. 13) as well as the Yasht in honor of Verethraghna, the +incarnation of Victory (Yt. 14). Selections from the others, Yt. 10 and +Yt. 19, which are among the noblest, are here given. + +The first of the two chosen (Yt. 10) is dedicated to the great divinity +Mithra, the genius who presides over light, truth, and the sun (Yt. +10, 13). + + Foremost he, the celestial angel, + Mounts above Mount Hara (Alborz) + In advance of the sun immortal + Which is drawn by fleeting horses; + He it is, in gold adornment + First ascends the beauteous summits + Thence beneficent he glances + Over all the abode of Aryans. + +As the god of light and of truth and as one of the judges of the dead, +he rides out in lordly array to the battle and takes an active part in +the conflict, wreaking vengeance upon those who at any time in their +life have spoken falsely, belied their oath, or broken their pledge. His +war-chariot and panoply are described in mingled lines of verse and +prose, which may thus be rendered (Yt. 10, 128-132):-- + + By the side of Mithra's chariot, + Mithra, lord of the wide pastures, + Stand a thousand bows well-fashioned + (The bow has a string of cowgut). + +By his chariot also are standing a thousand vulture-feathered, +gold-notched, lead-poised, well-fashioned arrows (the barb is of iron); +likewise a thousand spears well-fashioned and sharp-piercing, and a +thousand steel battle-axes, two-edged and well-fashioned; also a +thousand bronze clubs well-fashioned. + + And by Mithra's chariot also + Stands a mace, fair and well-striking, + With a hundred knobs and edges, + Dashing forward, felling heroes; + Out of golden bronze 'tis molded. + +The second illustrative extract will be taken from Yasht 19, which +magnifies in glowing strains the praises of the Kingly Glory. This +"kingly glory" (_kavaem hvareno_) is a sort of halo, radiance, or mark +of divine right, which was believed to be possessed by the kings and +heroes of Iran in the long line of its early history. One hero who bore +the glory was the mighty warrior Thraetaona (Feridun), the vanquisher of +the serpent-monster Azhi Dahaka (Zohak), who was depopulating the world +by his fearful daily banquet of the brains of two children. The victory +was a glorious triumph for Thraetaona (Yt. 19, 37):-- + + He who slew Azhi Dahaka, + Three-jawed monster, triple-headed, + With six eyes and myriad senses, + Fiend demoniac, full of power, + Evil to the world, and wicked. + This fiend full of power, the Devil + Anra Mainyu had created, + Fatal to the world material, + Deadly to the world of Righteousness. + +Of equal puissance was another noble champion, the valiant Keresaspa, +who dispatched a raging demon who, though not yet grown to man's estate, +was threatening the world. The monster's thrasonical boasting is thus +given (Yt. 19, 43):-- + + I am yet only a stripling, + But if ever I come to manhood + I shall make the earth my chariot + And shall make a wheel of heaven. + I shall drive the Holy Spirit + Down from out the shining heaven, + I shall rout the Evil Spirit + Up from out the dark abysm; + They as steeds shall draw my chariot, + God and Devil yoked together. + +Passing over a collection of shorter petitions, praises, and blessings +which may conveniently be grouped together as 'Minor Prayers,' for they +answer somewhat to our idea of a daily manual of morning devotion, we +may turn to the Vendidad (law against the demons), the Iranian +Pentateuch. Tradition asserts that in the Vendidad we have preserved a +specimen of one of the original Nasks. This may be true, but even the +superficial student will see that it is in any case a fragmentary +remnant. Interesting as the Vendidad is to the student of early rites, +observances, manners, and customs, it is nevertheless a barren field for +the student of literature, who will find in it little more than +wearisome prescriptions like certain chapters of Leviticus, Numbers, and +Deuteronomy. It need only be added that at the close of the colloquy +between Zoroaster and Ormazd given in Vend. 6, he will find the origin +of the modern Parsi "Towers of Silence." + +Among the Avestan Fragments, attention might finally be called to one +which we must be glad has not been lost. It is an old metrical bit +(Frag. 4, 1-3) in praise of the Airyama Ishya Prayer (Yt. 54, 1). This +is the prayer that shall be intoned by the Savior and his companions at +the end of the world, when the resurrection will take place; and it will +serve as a sort of last trump, at the sound of which the dead rise from +their graves and evil is banished from the world. Ormazd himself says to +Zoroaster (Frag. 4, 1-3):-- + + The Airyama Ishya prayer, I tell thee, + Upright, holy Zoroaster, + Is the greatest of all prayers. + Verily among all prayers + It is this one which I gifted + With revivifying powers. + + This prayer shall the Saoshyants, Saviors, + Chant, and at the chanting of it + I shall rule over my creatures, + I who am Ahura Mazda. + Not shall Ahriman have power, + Anra Mainyu, o'er my creatures, + He (the fiend) of foul religion. + In the earth shall Ahriman hide, + In the earth the demons hide. + Up the dead again shall rise, + And within their lifeless bodies + Incorporate life shall be restored. + +Inadequate as brief extracts must be to represent the sacred books of a +people, the citations here given will serve to show that the Avesta +which is still recited in solemn tones by the white-robed priests of +Bombay, the modern representatives of Zoroaster, the Prophet of ancient +days, is a survival not without value to those who appreciate whatever +has been preserved for us of the world's earlier literature. For readers +who are interested in the subject there are several translations of the +Avesta. The best (except for the Gathas, where the translation is weak) +is the French version by Darmesteter, 'Le Zend Avesta,' published in the +'Annales du Musee Guimet' (Paris, 1892-93). An English rendering by +Darmesteter and Mills is contained in the 'Sacred Books of the East,' +Vols. iv., xxiii., xxxi. + +[Illustration: Signature: A.V. Williams Jackson] + + +A PRAYER FOR KNOWLEDGE + +This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: when praise is to be offered, +how shall I complete the praise of the One like You, O Mazda? Let the +One like Thee declare it earnestly to the friend who is such as I, thus +through Thy Righteousness within us to offer friendly help to us, so +that the One like Thee may draw near us through Thy Good Mind within +the Soul. + +2. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright how, in pleasing Him, may +we serve the Supreme One of the better world; yea, how to serve that +chief who may grant us those blessings of his grace and who will seek +for grateful requitals at our hands; for He, bountiful as He is through +the Righteous Order, will hold off ruin from us all, guardian as He is +for both the worlds, O Spirit Mazda! and a friend. + +3. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who by generation is the +first father of the Righteous Order within the world? Who gave the +recurring sun and stars their undeviating way? Who established that +whereby the moon waxes, and whereby she wanes, save Thee? These things, +O Great Creator! would I know, and others likewise still. + +4. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who from beneath hath +sustained the earth and the clouds above that they do not fall? Who made +the waters and the plants? Who to the wind has yoked on the storm-clouds +the swift and fleetest two? Who, O Great Creator! is the inspirer of the +good thoughts within our souls? + +5. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who, as a skillful artisan, +hath made the lights and the darkness? Who, as thus skillful, hath made +sleep and the zest of waking hours? Who spread the Auroras, the +noontides and midnight, monitors to discerning man, duty's true guides? + +6. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright these things which I shall +speak forth, if they are truly thus. Doth the Piety which we cherish in +reality increase the sacred orderliness within our actions? To these Thy +true saints hath she given the Realm through the Good Mind? For whom +hast thou made the Mother-kine, the produce of joy? + +7. This I ask Thee, O Ahura! tell me aright: Who fashioned Aramaiti (our +piety) the beloved, together with Thy Sovereign Power? Who, through his +guiding wisdom, hath made the son revering the father? Who made him +beloved? With questions such as these, so abundant, O Mazda! I press +Thee, O bountiful Spirit, Thou maker of all! + +Yasna xliv.: Translation of L.H. Mills. + + +THE ANGEL OF DIVINE OBEDIENCE + +We worship Sraosha [Obedience] the blessed, whom four racers draw in +harness, white and shining, beautiful and (27) powerful, quick to learn +and fleet, obeying before speech, heeding orders from the mind, with +their hoofs of horn gold-covered, (28) fleeter than [our] horses, +swifter than the winds, more rapid than the rain [drops as they fall]; +yea, fleeter than the clouds, or well-winged birds, or the well-shot +arrow as it flies, (29) which overtake these swift ones all, as they fly +after them pursuing, but which are never overtaken when they flee, which +plunge away from both the weapons [hurled on this side and on that] and +draw Sraosha with them, the good Sraosha and the blessed; which from +both the weapons [those on this side and on that] bear the good +Obedience the blessed, plunging forward in their zeal, when he takes his +course from India on the East and when he lights down in the West. + +Yasna lvii. 27-29: Translation of L.H. Mills. + + +TO THE FIRE + +I offer my sacrifice and homage to thee, the Fire, as a good offering, +and an offering with our hail of salvation, even as an offering of +praise with benedictions, to thee, the Fire, O Ahura, Mazda's son! Meet +for sacrifice art thou, and worthy of [our] homage. And as meet for +sacrifice, and thus worthy of our homage, may'st thou be in the houses +of men [who worship Mazda]. Salvation be to this man who worships thee +in verity and truth, with wood in hand and baresma [sacred twigs] ready, +with flesh in hand and holding too the mortar. 2. And mayst thou be +[ever] fed with wood as the prescription orders. Yea, mayst thou have +thy perfume justly, and thy sacred butter without fail, and thine +andirons regularly placed. Be of full age as to thy nourishment, of the +canon's age as to the measure of thy food. O Fire, Ahura, Mazda's son! +3. Be now aflame within this house; be ever without fail in flame; be +all ashine within this house: for long time be thou thus to the +furtherance of the heroic [renovation], to the completion of [all] +progress, yea, even till the good heroic [millennial] time when that +renovation shall have become complete. 4. Give me, O Fire, Ahura, +Mazda's son! a speedy glory, speedy nourishment and speedy booty and +abundant glory, abundant nourishment, abundant booty, an expanded mind, +and nimbleness of tongue and soul and understanding, even an +understanding continually growing in its largeness, and that never +wanders. Yasna lxii. 1-4: Translation of L.H. Mills. + + +THE GODDESS OF THE WATERS + +Offer up a sacrifice unto this spring of mine, Ardvi Sura Anahita (the +exalted, mighty, and undefiled, image of the (128) stream celestial), +who stands carried forth in the shape of a maid, fair of body, most +strong, tall-formed, high-girded, pure, nobly born of a glorious race, +wearing a mantle fully embroidered with gold. 129. Ever holding the +baresma in her hand, according to the rules; she wears square golden +ear-rings on her ears bored, and a golden necklace around her beautiful +neck, she, the nobly born Ardvi Sura Anahita; and she girded her waist +tightly, so that her breasts may be well shaped, that they may be +tightly pressed. 128. Upon her head Ardvi Sura Anahita bound a golden +crown, with a hundred stars, with eight rays, a fine well-made crown, +with fillets streaming down. 129. She is clothed with garments of +beaver, Ardvi Sura Anahita; with the skin of thirty beavers, of those +that bear four young ones, that are the finest kind of beavers; for the +skin of the beaver that lives in water is the finest colored of all +skins, and when worked at the right time it shines to the eye with full +sheen of silver and gold. Yasht v. 126-129: Translation of J. +Darmesteter. + + +GUARDIAN SPIRITS + +We worship the good, strong, beneficent Fravashis [guardian spirits] of +the faithful; with helms of brass, with weapons (45) of brass, with +armor of brass; who struggle in the fights for victory in garments of +light, arraying the battles and bringing them forwards, to kill +thousands of Daevas [demons]. 46. When the wind blows from behind them +and brings their breath unto men, then men know where blows the breath +of victory: and they pay pious homage unto the good, strong, beneficent +Fravashis of the faithful, with their hearts prepared and their arms +uplifted. 47. Whichever side they have been first worshiped in the +fulness of faith of a devoted heart, to that side turn the awful +Fravashis of the faithful along with Mithra [angel of truth and light] +and Rashnu [Justice] and the awful cursing thought of the wise and the +victorious wind. + +Yasht xiii. 45-47: Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +AN ANCIENT SINDBAD + +The manly-hearted Keresaspa was the sturdiest of the men of strength, +for Manly Courage clave unto him. We worship [this] Manly Courage, firm +of foot, unsleeping, quick to rise, and fully awake, that clave unto +Keresaspa [the hero], who killed the snake Srvara, the horse-devouring, +man-devouring, yellow poisonous snake, over which yellow poison flowed a +thumb's breadth thick. Upon him Kerasaspa was cooking his food in a +brass vessel, at the time of noon. The fiend felt the heat and darted +away; he rushed from under the brass vessel and upset the boiling water: +the manly-hearted Keresaspa fell back affrighted. + +Yasht xix. 38-40: Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +THE WISE MAN + +Verily I say it unto thee, O Spitama Zoroaster! the man who has a wife +is far above him who lives in continence; he who keeps a house is far +above him who has none; he who has children is far above the childless +man; he who has riches is far above him who has none. + +And of two men, he who fills himself with meat receives in him good +spirit [Vohu Mano] much more than he who does not do so; the latter is +all but dead; the former is above him by the worth of a sheep, by the +worth of an ox, by the worth of a man. + +It is this man that can strive against the onsets of death; that can +strive against the well-darted arrow; that can strive against the winter +fiend with thinnest garment on; that can strive against the wicked +tyrant and smite him on the head; it is this man that can strive against +the ungodly fasting Ashemaogha [the fiends and heretics who do not eat]. + +Vendidad iv. 47-49: Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +INVOCATION TO RAIN + +"Come on, O clouds, along the sky, through the air, down on the earth, +by thousands of drops, by myriads of drops," thus say, O holy Zoroaster! +"to destroy sickness altogether, to destroy death altogether, to destroy +altogether the sickness made by the Gaini, to destroy altogether the +death made by Gaini, to destroy altogether Gadha and Apagadha. + +"If death come at eve, may healing come at daybreak! + +"If death come at daybreak, may healing come at night! + +"If death come at night, may healing come at dawn! + +"Let showers shower down new waters, new earth, new trees, new health, +and new healing powers." + +Vendidad xxi. 2: Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +A PRAYER FOR HEALING + +Ahura Mazda spake unto Spitama Zoroaster, saying, "I, Ahura Mazda, the +Maker of all good things, when I made this mansion, the beautiful, the +shining, seen afar (there may I go up, there may I arrive)!" + +Then the ruffian looked at me; the ruffian Anra Mainyu, the deadly, +wrought against me nine diseases and ninety, and nine hundred, and nine +thousand, and nine times ten thousand diseases. So mayest thou heal me, +O Holy Word, thou most glorious one! + +Unto thee will I give in return a thousand fleet, swift-running steeds; +I offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda and holy. + +Unto thee will I give in return a thousand fleet, high-humped camels; I +offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda and holy. + +Unto thee will I give in return a thousand brown faultless oxen; I offer +thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda and holy. + +Unto thee will I give in return a thousand young of all species of small +cattle; I offer thee up a sacrifice, O good Saoka, made by Mazda +and holy. + +And I will bless thee with the fair blessing-spell of the righteous, the +friendly blessing-spell of the righteous, that makes the empty swell to +fullness and the full to overflowing, that comes to help him who was +sickening, and makes the sick man sound again. Vendidad xxii. 1-5: +Translation of J. Darmesteter. + + +FRAGMENT + +All good thoughts, and all good words, and all good deeds are thought +and spoken and done with intelligence; and all evil thoughts and words +and deeds are thought and spoken and done with folly. + +2. And let [the men who think and speak and do] all good thoughts and +words and deeds inhabit Heaven [as their home]. And let those who think +and speak and do evil thoughts and words and deeds abide in Hell. For to +all who think good thoughts, speak good words, and do good deeds, +Heaven, the best world, belongs. And this is evident and as of course. +Avesta, Fragment iii.: Translation of L.H. Mills. + + + + +AVICEBRON + +(1028-? 1058) + + +Avicebron, or Avicebrol (properly Solomon ben Judah ibn Gabirol), one of +the most famous of Jewish poets, and the most original of Jewish +thinkers, was born at Cordova, in Spain, about A.D. 1028. Of the events +of his life we know little; and it was only in 1845 that Munk, in the +'Literaturblatt des Orient,' proved the Jewish poet Ibn Gabirol to be +one and the same person with Avicebron, so often quoted by the Schoolmen +as an Arab philosopher. He was educated at Saragossa, spent some years +at Malaga, and died, hardly thirty years old, about 1058. His +disposition seems to have been rather melancholy. + +Of his philosophic works, which were written in Arabic, by far the most +important, and that which lent lustre to his name, was the 'Fountain of +Life'; a long treatise in the form of a dialogue between teacher and +pupil, on what was then regarded as the fundamental question in +philosophy, the nature and relations of Matter and Form. The original, +which seems never to have been popular with either Jews or Arabs, is not +known to exist; but there exists a complete Latin translation (the work +having found appreciation among Christians), which has recently been +edited with great care by Professor Baeumker of Breslau, under the title +'Avencebrolis Fons Vitae, ex Arabico in Latinum translatus ab Johanne +Hispano et Dominico Gundissalino' (Muenster, 1895). There is also a +series of extracts from it in Hebrew. Besides this, he wrote a +half-popular work, 'On the Improvement of Character,' in which he brings +the different virtues into relation with the five senses. He is, +further, the reputed author of a work 'On the Soul,' and the reputed +compiler of a famous anthology, 'A Choice of Pearls,' which appeared, +with an English translation by B.H. Ascher, in London, in 1859. In his +poetry, which, like that of other mediaeval Hebrew poets, Moses ben Ezra, +Judah Halevy, etc., is partly liturgical, partly worldly, he abandons +native forms, such as we find in the Psalms, and follows artificial +Arabic models, with complicated rhythms and rhyme, unsuited to Hebrew, +which, unlike Arabic, is poor in inflections. Nevertheless, many of his +liturgical pieces are still used in the services of the synagogue, while +his worldly ditties find admirers elsewhere. (See A. Geiger, 'Ibn +Gabirol und seine Dichtungen,' Leipzig, 1867.) + +The philosophy of Ibn Gabirol is a compound of Hebrew monotheism and +that Neo-Platonic Aristotelianism which for two hundred years had been +current in the Muslim schools at Bagdad, Basra, etc., and which the +learned Jews were largely instrumental in carrying to the Muslims of +Spain. For it must never be forgotten that the great translators and +intellectual purveyors of the Middle Ages were the Jews. (See +Steinschneider, 'Die Hebraeischen Uebersetzungen des Mittelalters, und +die Juden als Dolmetscher,' 2 vols., Berlin, 1893.) + +The aim of Ibn Gabirol, like that of the other three noted Hebrew +thinkers, Philo, Maimonides, and Spinoza, was--given God, to account for +creation; and this he tried to do by means of Neo-Platonic +Aristotelianism, such as he found in the Pseudo-Pythagoras, +Pseudo-Empedocles, Pseudo-Aristotelian 'Theology' (an abstract from +Plotinus), and 'Book on Causes' (an abstract from Proclus's 'Institutio +Theologica'). It is well known that Aristotle, who made God a "thinking +of thinking," and placed matter, as something eternal, over against him, +never succeeded in bringing God into effective connection with the world +(see K. Elser, 'Die Lehredes Aristotles ueber das Wirken Gottes,' +Muenster, 1893); and this defect the Greeks never afterward remedied +until the time of Plotinus, who, without propounding a doctrine of +emanation, arranged the universe as a hierarchy of existence, beginning +with the Good, and descending through correlated Being and Intelligence, +to Soul or Life, which produces Nature with all its multiplicity, and so +stands on "the horizon" between undivided and divided being. In the +famous encyclopaedia of the "Brothers of Purity," written in the East +about A.D. 1000, and representing Muslim thought at its best, the +hierarchy takes this form: God, Intelligence, Soul, Primal Matter, +Secondary Matter, World, Nature, the Elements, Material Things. (See +Dieterici, 'Die Philosophic der Araber im X. Jahrhundert n. Chr.,' 2 +vols., Leipzig, 1876-79.) In the hands of Ibn Gabirol, this is +transformed thus: God, Will, Primal Matter, Form, Intelligence, +Soul--vegetable, animal, rational, Nature, the source of the visible +world. If we compare these hierarchies, we shall see that Ibn Gabirol +makes two very important changes: _first_, he introduces an altogether +new element, viz., the Will; _second_, instead of placing Intelligence +second in rank, next to God, he puts Will, Matter, and Form before it. +Thus, whereas the earliest thinkers, drawing on Aristotle, had sought +for an explanation of the world in Intelligence, he seeks for it in +Will, thus approaching the standpoint of Schopenhauer. Moreover, whereas +they had made Matter and Form originate in Intelligence, he includes the +latter, together with the material world, among things compounded of +Matter and Form. Hence, everything, save God and His Will, which is but +the expression of Him, is compounded of Matter and Form (cf. Dante, +'Paradiso,' i. 104 _seq_.). Had he concluded from this that God, in +order to occupy this exceptional position, must be pure matter (or +substance), he would have reached the standpoint of Spinoza. As it is, +he stands entirely alone in the Middle Age, in making the world the +product of Will, and not of Intelligence, as the Schoolmen and the +classical philosophers of Germany held. + +The 'Fountain of Life' is divided into five books, whose subjects are as +follows:--I. Matter and Form, and their various kinds. II. Matter as the +bearer of body, and the subject of the categories. III. Separate +Substances, in the created intellect, standing between God and the +World. IV. Matter and Form in simple substances. V. Universal Matter and +Universal Form, with a discussion of the Divine Will, which, by +producing and uniting Matter and Form, brings being out of non-being, +and so is the 'Fountain of Life.' Though the author is influenced by +Jewish cosmogony, his system, as such, is almost purely Neo-Platonic. It +remains one of the most considerable attempts that have ever been made +to find in spirit the explanation of the world; not only making all +matter at bottom one, but also maintaining that while form is due to the +divine will, matter is due to the divine essence, so that both are +equally spiritual. It is especially interesting as showing us, by +contrast, how far Christian thinking, which rested on much the same +foundation with it, was influenced and confined by Christian dogmas, +especially by those of the Trinity and the Incarnation. + +Ibn Gabirol's thought exerted a profound influence, not only on +subsequent Hebrew thinkers, like Joseph ben Saddig, Maimonides, Spinoza, +but also on the Christian Schoolmen, by whom he is often quoted, and on +Giordano Bruno. Through Spinoza and Bruno this influence has passed into +the modern world, where it still lives. Dante, though naming many Arab +philosophers, never alludes to Ibn Gabirol; yet he borrowed more of his +sublimest thoughts from the 'Fountain of Life' than from any other book. +(Cf. Ibn Gabirol's 'Bedeutung fuer die Geschichte der Philosophie,' +appendix to Vol. i. of M. Joel's 'Beitraege zur Gesch. der Philos.,' +Breslau, 1876.) If we set aside the hypostatic form in which Ibn Gabirol +puts forward his ideas, we shall find a remarkable similarity between +his system and that of Kant, not to speak of that of Schopenhauer. For +the whole subject, see J. Guttman's 'Die Philosophic des Salomon Ibn +Gabirol' (Goettingen, 1889). + + +ON MATTER AND FORM + +From the 'Fountain of Life,' Fifth Treatise + +Intelligence is finite in both directions: on the upper side, by reason +of will, which is above it; on the lower, by reason of matter, which is +outside of its essence. Hence, spiritual substances are finite with +respect to matter, because they differ through it, and distinction is +the cause of finitude; in respect to forms they are infinite on the +lower side, because one form flows from another. And we must bear in +mind that that part of matter which is above heaven, the more it ascends +from it to the principle of creation, becomes the more spiritual in +form, whereas that part which descends lower than the heaven toward +quiet will be more corporeal in form. Matter, intelligence, and soul +comprehend heaven, and heaven comprehends the elements. And just as, if +you imagine your soul standing at the extreme height of heaven, and +looking back upon the earth, the earth will seem but a point, in +comparison with the heaven, so are corporeal and spiritual substance in +comparison with the will. And first matter is stable in the knowledge of +God, as the earth in the midst of heaven. And the form diffused through +it is as the light diffused through the air.... + +We must bear in mind that the unity induced by the will (we might say, +the will itself) binds matter to form. Hence that union is stable, firm, +and perpetual from the beginning of its creation; and thus unity +sustains all things. + +Matter is movable, in order that it may receive form, in conformity +with its appetite for receiving goodness and delight through the +reception of form. In like manner, everything that is, desires to move, +in order that it may attain something of the goodness of the primal +being; and the nearer anything is to the primal being, the more easily +it reaches this, and the further off it is, the more slowly and with the +longer motion and time it does so. And the motion of matter and other +substances is nothing but appetite and love for the mover toward which +it moves, as, for example, matter moves toward form, through desire for +the primal being; for matter requires light from that which is in the +essence of will, which compels matter to move toward will and to desire +it: and herein will and matter are alike. And because matter is +receptive of the form that has flowed down into it by the flux of +violence and necessity, matter must necessarily move to receive form; +and therefore things are constrained by will and obedience in turn. +Hence by the light which it has from will, matter moves toward will and +desires it; but when it receives form, it lacks nothing necessary for +knowing and desiring it, and nothing remains for it to seek for. For +example, in the morning the air has an imperfect splendor from the sun; +but at noon it has a perfect splendor, and there remains nothing for it +to demand of the sun. Hence the desire for the first motion is a +likeness between all substances and the first Maker, because it is +impressed upon all things to move toward the first; because particular +matter desires particular form, and the matter of plants and animals, +which, in generating, move toward the forms of plants and animals, are +also influenced by the particular form acting in them. In like manner +the sensible soul moves toward sensible forms, and the rational soul to +intelligible forms, because the particular soul, which is called the +first intellect, while it is in its principle, is susceptible of form; +but when it shall have received the form of universal intelligence, +which is the second intellect, and shall become intelligence, then it +will be strong to act, and will be called the second intellect; and +since particular souls have such a desire, it follows that universal +souls must have a desire for universal forms. The same thing must be +said of natural matter,--that is, the substance which sustains the nine +categories; because this matter moves to take on the first qualities, +then to the mineral form, then to the vegetable, then to the sensible, +then to the rational, then to the intelligible, until at last it is +united to the form of universal intelligence. And this primal matter +desires primal form; and all things that are, desire union and +commixture, that so they may be assimilated to their principle; and +therefore, genera, species, differentiae, and contraries are united +through something in singulars. + +Thus, matter is like an empty schedule and a wax tablet; whereas form is +like a painted shape and words set down, from which the reader reaches +the end of science. And when the soul knows these, it desires to know +the wonderful painter of them, to whose essence it is impossible to +ascend. Thus matter and form are the two closed gates of intelligence, +which it is hard for intelligence to open and pass through, because the +substance of intelligence is below them, and made up of them. And when +the soul has subtilized itself, until it can penetrate them, it arrives +at the word, that is, at perfect will; and then its motion ceases, and +its joy remains. + +An analogy to the fact that the universal will actualizes universal form +in the matter of intelligence is the fact that the particular will +actualizes the particular form in the soul without time, and life and +essential motion in the matter of the soul, and local motion and other +motions in the matter of nature. But all these motions are derived from +the will; and so all things are moved by the will, just as the soul +causes rest or motion in the body according to its will. And this motion +is different according to the greater or less proximity of things to the +will. And if we remove action from the will, the will will be identical +with the primal essence; whereas, with action, it is different from it. +Hence, will is as the painter of all forms; the matter of each thing as +a tablet; and the form of each thing as the picture on the tablet. It +binds form to matter, and is diffused through the whole of matter, from +highest to lowest, as the soul through the body; and as the virtue of +the sun, diffusing its light, unites with the light, and with it +descends into the air, so the virtue of the will unites with the form +which it imparts to all things, and descends with it. On this ground it +is said that the first cause is in all things, and that there is nothing +without it. + +The will holds all things together by means of form; whence we likewise +say that form holds all things together. Thus, form is intermediate +between will and matter, receiving from will, and giving to matter. And +will acts without time or motion, through its own might. If the action +of soul and intelligence, and the infusion of light are instantaneous, +much more so is that of will. + +Creation comes from the high creator, and is an emanation, like the +issue of water flowing from its source; but whereas water follows water +without intermission or rest, creation is without motion or time. The +sealing of form upon matter, as it flows in from the will, is like the +sealing or reflection of a form in a mirror, when it is seen. And as +sense receives the form of the felt without the matter, so everything +that acts upon another acts solely through its own form, which it simply +impresses upon that other. Hence genus, species, differentia, property, +accident, and all forms in matter are merely an impression made +by wisdom. + +The created soul is gifted with the knowledge which is proper to it; but +after it is united to the body, it is withdrawn from receiving those +impressions which are proper to it, by reason of the very darkness of +the body, covering and extinguishing its light, and blurring it, just as +in the case of a clear mirror: when dense substance is put over it its +light is obscured. And therefore God, by the subtlety of his substance, +formed this world, and arranged it according to this most beautiful +order, in which it is, and equipped the soul with senses, wherein, when +it uses them, that which is hidden in it is manifested in act; and the +soul, in apprehending sensible things, is like a man who sees many +things, and when he departs from them, finds that nothing remains with +him but the vision of imagination and memory. + +We must also bear in mind that, while matter is made by essence, form is +made by will. And it is said that matter is the seat of God, and that +will, the giver of form, sits on it and rests upon it. And through the +knowledge of these things we ascend to those things which are behind +them, that is, to the cause why there is anything; and this is a +knowledge of the world of deity, which is the greatest whole: whatever +is below it is very small in comparison with it. + + + + +ROBERT AYTOUN + +(1570-1638) + + +This Scottish poet was born in his father's castle of Kinaldie, near St. +Andrews, Fifeshire, in 1570. He was descended from the Norman family of +De Vescy, a younger son of which settled in Scotland and received from +Robert Bruce the lands of Aytoun in Berwickshire. Kincardie came into +the family about 1539. Robert Aytoun was educated at St. Andrews, taking +his degree in 1588, traveled on the Continent like other wealthy +Scottish gentlemen, and studied law at the University of Paris. +Returning in 1603, he delighted James I. by a Latin poem congratulating +him on his accession to the English throne. Thereupon the poet received +an invitation to court as Groom of the Privy Chamber. He rose rapidly, +was knighted in 1612, and made Gentleman of the Bedchamber to King James +and private secretary to Queen Anne. When Charles I. ascended the +throne, Aytoun was retained, and held many important posts. According to +Aubrey, "he was acquainted with all the witts of his time in England." +Sir Robert was essentially a court poet, and belonged to the cultivated +circle of Scottish favorites that James gathered around him; yet there +is no mention of him in the gossipy diaries of the period, and almost +none in the State papers. He seems, however, to have been popular: Ben +Jonson boasts that Aytoun "loved me dearly." It is not surprising that +his mild verses should have faded in the glorious light of the +contemporary poets. + +[Illustration: ROBERT AYTOUN] + +He wrote in Greek and French, and many of his Latin poems were published +under the title 'Delitiae Poetarum Scotorum' (Amsterdam, 1637). His +English poems on such themes as a 'Love Dirge,' 'The Poet Forsaken,' +'The Lover's Remonstrance,' 'Address to an Inconstant Mistress,' etc., +do not show depth of emotion. He says of himself:-- + + "Yet have I been a lover by report, + Yea, I have died for love as others do; + But praised be God, it was in such a sort + That I revived within an hour or two." + +The lines beginning "I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair," quoted +below with their adaptation by Burns, do not appear in his MSS., +collected by his heir Sir John Aytoun, nor in the edition of his works +with a memoir prepared by Dr. Charles Rogers, published in Edinburgh in +1844 and reprinted privately in 1871. Dean Stanley, in his 'Memorials of +Westminster Abbey,' accords to him the original of 'Auld Lang Syne,' +which Rogers includes in his edition. Burns's song follows the version +attributed to Francis Temple. + +Aytoun passed his entire life in luxury, died in Whitehall Palace in +1638, and was the first Scottish poet buried in Westminster Abbey. His +memorial bust was taken from a portrait by Vandyke. + + + INCONSTANCY UPBRAIDED + + I loved thee once, I'll love no more; + Thine be the grief as is the blame: + Thou art not what thou wast before, + What reason I should be the same? + He that can love unloved again, + Hath better store of love than brain; + God send me love my debts to pay, + While unthrifts fool their love away. + + Nothing could have my love o'erthrown, + If thou hadst still continued mine; + Yea, if thou hadst remained thy own, + I might perchance have yet been thine. + But thou thy freedom didst recall, + That it thou might elsewhere inthrall; + And then how could I but disdain + A captive's captive to remain? + + When new desires had conquered thee, + And changed the object of thy will, + It had been lethargy in me, + Not constancy, to love thee still. + Yea, it had been a sin to go + And prostitute affection so; + Since we are taught no prayers to say + To such as must to others pray. + + Yet do thou glory in thy choice, + Thy choice of his good fortune boast; + I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice + To see him gain what I have lost. + The height of my disdain shall be + To laugh at him, to blush for thee; + To love thee still, but go no more + A-begging to a beggar's door. + + + LINES TO AN INCONSTANT MISTRESS + + I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair, + And I might have gone near to love thee, + Had I not found the slightest prayer + That lips could speak had power to move thee. + But I can let thee now alone, + As worthy to be loved by none. + + I do confess thou'rt sweet, yet find + Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, + Thy favors are but like the wind + Which kisseth everything it meets! + And since thou canst love more than one, + Thou'rt worthy to be loved by none. + + The morning rose that untouched stands, + Armed with her briers, how sweet she smells! + But plucked and strained through ruder hands, + Her scent no longer with her dwells. + But scent and beauty both are gone, + And leaves fall from her one by one. + + Such fate ere long will thee betide, + When thou hast handled been awhile, + Like fair flowers to be thrown aside; + And thou shalt sigh while I shall smile, + To see thy love to every one + Hath brought thee to be loved by none. + + + BURNS'S ADAPTATION + + I do confess thou art sae fair, + I wad been ower the lugs in love + Had I na found the slightest prayer + That lips could speak, thy heart could move. + I do confess thee sweet--but find + Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets, + Thy favors are the silly wind, + That kisses ilka thing it meets. + See yonder rosebud rich in dew, + Among its native briers sae coy, + How sune it tines its scent and hue + When pu'd and worn a common toy. + Sic fate, ere lang, shall thee betide, + Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile; + Yet sune thou shalt be thrown aside + Like any common weed and vile. + + + + +WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN + +(1813-1865) + + +Aytoun the second, balladist, humorist, and Tory, in proportions of +about equal importance,--one of the group of wits and devotees of the +_status quo_ who made Blackwood's Magazine so famous in its early +days,--was born in Edinburgh, June 21st, 1813. He was the son of Roger +Aytoun, "writer to the Signet"; and a descendant of Sir Robert Aytoun +(1570-1638), the poet and friend of Ben Jonson, who followed James VI. +from Scotland and who is buried in Westminster Abbey. Both Aytoun's +parents were literary. His mother, who knew Sir Walter Scott, and who +gave Lockhart many details for his biography, helped the lad in his +poems. She seemed to him to know all the ballads ever sung. His earliest +verses were praised by Professor John Wilson ("Christopher North"), the +first editor of Blackwood's, whose daughter he married in 1849. At the +age of nineteen he published his 'Poland, Homer, and Other Poems' +(Edinburgh, 1832). After leaving the University of Edinburgh, he studied +law in London, visited Germany, and returning to Scotland, was called to +the bar in 1840. He disliked the profession, and used to say that though +he followed the law he never could overtake it. + +While in Germany he translated the first part of 'Faust' in blank verse, +which was never published. Many of his translations from Uhland and +Homer appeared in Blackwood's from 1836 to 1840, and many of his early +writings were signed "Augustus Dunshunner." In 1844 he joined the +editorial staff of Blackwood's, to which for many years he contributed +political articles, verse, translations of Goethe, and humorous +sketches. In 1845 he became Professor of Rhetoric and Literature in the +University of Edinburgh, a place which he held until 1864. About 1841 he +became acquainted with Theodore Martin, and in association with him +wrote a series of light papers interspersed with burlesque verses, +which, reprinted from Blackwood's, became popular as the 'Bon Gaultier +Ballads.' Published in London in 1855, they reached their thirteenth +edition in 1877. + + "Some papers of a humorous kind, which I had published under + the _nom de plume_ of Bon Gaultier," says Theodore Martin in + his 'Memoir of Aytoun,' "had hit Aytoun's fancy; and when I + proposed to go on with others in a similar vein, he fell + readily into the plan, and agreed to assist in it. In this + way a kind of a Beaumont-and-Fletcher partnership commenced + in a series of humorous papers, which appeared in Tait's and + Fraser's magazines from 1842 to 1844. In these papers, in + which we ran a-tilt, with all the recklessness of youthful + spirits, against such of the tastes or follies of the day as + presented an opening for ridicule or mirth,--at the same time + that we did not altogether lose sight of a purpose higher + than mere amusement,--appeared the verses, with a few + exceptions, which subsequently became popular, and to a + degree we then little contemplated, as the 'Bon Gaultier + Ballads.' Some of the best of these were exclusively + Aytoun's, such as 'The Massacre of the McPherson,' 'The Rhyme + of Sir Launcelot Bogle,' 'The Broken Pitcher,' 'The Red Friar + and Little John,' 'The Lay of Mr. Colt,' and that best of all + imitations of the Scottish ballad, 'The Queen in France.' + Some were wholly mine, and the rest were produced by us + jointly. Fortunately for our purpose, there were then living + not a few poets whose style and manner of thought were + sufficiently marked to make imitation easy, and sufficiently + popular for a parody of their characteristics to be readily + recognized. Macaulay's 'Lays of Rome' and his two other fine + ballads were still in the freshness of their fame. Lockhart's + 'Spanish Ballads' were as familiar in the drawing-room as in + the study. Tennyson and Mrs. Browning were opening up new + veins of poetry. These, with Wordsworth, Moore, Uhland, and + others of minor note, lay ready to our hands,--as Scott, + Byron, Crabbe, Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Southey had done to + James and Horace Smith in 1812, when writing the 'Rejected + Addresses.' Never, probably, were verses thrown off with a + keener sense of enjoyment." + +With Theodore Martin he published also 'Poems and Ballads of Goethe' +(London, 1858). Mr. Aytoun's fame as a poet rests on his 'Lays of the +Cavaliers,' the themes of which are selected from stirring incidents of +Scottish history, ranging from Flodden Field to the Battle of Culloden. +The favorites in popular memory are 'The Execution of Montrose' and 'The +Burial March of Dundee.' This book, published in London and Edinburgh in +1849, has gone through twenty-nine editions. + +His dramatic poem, 'Firmilian: a Spasmodic Tragedy,' written to ridicule +the style of Bailey, Dobell, and Alexander Smith, and published in 1854, +had so many excellent qualities that it was received as a serious +production instead of a caricature. Aytoun introduced this in +Blackwood's Magazine as a pretended review of an unpublished tragedy (as +with the 'Rolliad,' and as Lockhart had done in the case of "Peter's +Letters," so successfully that he had to write the book itself as a +"second edition" to answer the demand for it). This review was so +cleverly done that "most of the newspaper critics took the part of the +poet against the reviewer, never suspecting the identity of both, and +maintained the poetry to be fine poetry and the critic a dunce." The +sarcasm of 'Firmilian' is so delicate that only those familiar with the +school it is intended to satirize can fairly appreciate its qualities. +The drama opens showing Firmilian in his study, planning the composition +of 'Cain: a Tragedy'; and being infused with the spirit of the hero, he +starts on a career of crime. Among his deeds is the destruction of the +cathedral of Badajoz, which first appears in his mental vision thus:-- + + "Methought I saw the solid vaults give way, + And the entire cathedral rise in air, + As if it leaped from Pandemonium's jaws." + +To effect this he employs-- + + "Some twenty barrels of the dusky grain + The secret of whose framing in an hour + Of diabolic jollity and mirth + Old Roger Bacon wormed from Beelzebub." + +When the horror is accomplished, at a moment when the inhabitants of +Badajoz are at prayer, Firmilian rather enjoys the scene:-- + + "Pillars and altar, organ loft and screen, + With a singed swarm of mortals intermixed, + Whirling in anguish to the shuddering stars." + +"'Firmilian,'" to quote from Aytoun's biographer again, "deserves to +keep its place in literature, if only as showing how easy it is for a +man of real poetic power to throw off, in sport, pages of sonorous and +sparkling verse, simply by ignoring the fetters of nature and +common-sense and dashing headlong on Pegasus through the wilderness of +fancy." Its extravagances of rhetoric can be imagined from the following +brief extract, somewhat reminiscent of Marlowe:-- + + "And shall I then take Celsus for my guide, + Confound my brain with dull Justinian tomes, + Or stir the dust that lies o'er Augustine? + Not I, in faith! I've leaped into the air, + And clove my way through ether like a bird + That flits beneath the glimpses of the moon, + Right eastward, till I lighted at the foot + Of holy Helicon, and drank my fill + At the clear spout of Aganippe's stream; + I've rolled my limbs in ecstasy along + The selfsame turf on which old Homer lay + That night he dreamed of Helen and of Troy: + And I have heard, at midnight, the sweet strains + Come quiring from the hilltop, where, enshrined + In the rich foldings of a silver cloud, + The Muses sang Apollo into sleep." + +In 1856 was printed 'Bothwell,' a poetic monologue on Mary Stuart's +lover. Of Aytoun's humorous sketches, the most humorous are 'My First +Spec in the Biggleswades,' and 'How We Got Up the Glen Mutchkin +Railway'; tales written during the railway mania of 1845, which treat of +the folly and dishonesty of its promoters, and show many typical +Scottish characters. His 'Ballads of Scotland' was issued in 1858; it is +an edition of the best ancient minstrelsy, with preface and notes. In +1861 appeared 'Norman Sinclair,' a novel published first in Blackwood's, +and giving interesting pictures of society in Scotland and personal +experiences. + +After Professor Wilson's death, Aytoun was considered the leading man of +letters in Scotland; a rank which he modestly accepted by writing in +1838 to a friend:--"I am getting a kind of fame as the literary man of +Scotland. Thirty years ago, in the North countries, a fellow achieved an +immense reputation as 'The Tollman,' being the solitary individual +entitled by law to levy blackmail at a ferry." In 1860 he was made +Honorary President of the Associated Societies of the University of +Edinburgh, his competitor being Thackeray. This was the place held +afterward by Lord Lytton, Sir David Brewster, Carlyle, and Gladstone. +Aytoun wrote the 'The Life and Times of Richard the First' (London, +1840), and in 1863 a 'Nuptial Ode on the Marriage of the Prince +of Wales.' + +Aytoun was a man of great charm and geniality in society; even to +Americans, though he detested America with the energy of fear--the fear +of all who see its prosperity sapping the foundations of their class +society. He died in 1865; and in 1867 his biography was published by Sir +Theodore Martin, his collaborator. Martin's definition of Aytoun's place +in literature is felicitous:-- + + * * * * * + +"Fashions in poetry may alter, but so long as the themes with which they +deal have an interest for his countrymen, his 'Lays' will find, as they +do now, a wide circle of admirers. His powers as a humorist were perhaps +greater than as a poet. They have certainly been more widely +appreciated. His immediate contemporaries owe him much, for he has +contributed largely to that kindly mirth without which the strain and +struggle of modern life would be intolerable. Much that is excellent in +his humorous writings may very possibly cease to retain a place in +literature from the circumstance that he deals with characters and +peculiarities which are in some measure local, and phases of life and +feeling and literature which are more or less ephemeral. But much will +certainly continue to be read and enjoyed by the sons and grandsons of +those for whom it was originally written; and his name will be coupled +with those of Wilson, Lockhart, Sydney Smith, Peacock, Jerrold, Mahony, +and Hood, as that of a man gifted with humor as genuine and original as +theirs, however opinions may vary as to the order of their +relative merits." + +'The Modern Endymion,' from which an extract is given, is a parody on +Disraeli's earlier manner. + + + THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEE + + From the 'Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers' + + + I + + Sound the fife and cry the slogan; + Let the pibroch shake the air + With its wild, triumphant music, + Worthy of the freight we bear. + Let the ancient hills of Scotland + Hear once more the battle-song + Swell within their glens and valleys + As the clansmen march along! + Never from the field of combat, + Never from the deadly fray, + Was a nobler trophy carried + Than we bring with us to-day; + Never since the valiant Douglas + On his dauntless bosom bore + Good King Robert's heart--the priceless-- + To our dear Redeemer's shore! + Lo! we bring with us the hero-- + Lo! we bring the conquering Graeme, + Crowned as best beseems a victor + From the altar of his fame; + Fresh and bleeding from the battle + Whence his spirit took its flight, + 'Midst the crashing charge of squadrons, + And the thunder of the fight! + Strike, I say, the notes of triumph, + As we march o'er moor and lea! + Is there any here will venture + To bewail our dead Dundee? + Let the widows of the traitors + Weep until their eyes are dim! + Wail ye may full well for Scotland-- + Let none dare to mourn for him! + See! above his glorious body + Lies the royal banner's fold-- + See! his valiant blood is mingled + With its crimson and its gold. + See how calm he looks and stately, + Like a warrior on his shield, + Waiting till the flush of morning + Breaks along the battle-field! + See--oh, never more, my comrades, + Shall we see that falcon eye + Redden with its inward lightning, + As the hour of fight drew nigh! + Never shall we hear the voice that, + Clearer than the trumpet's call, + Bade us strike for king and country, + Bade us win the field, or fall! + + + II + + On the heights of Killiecrankie + Yester-morn our army lay: + Slowly rose the mist in columns + From the river's broken way; + Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, + And the Pass was wrapped in gloom, + When the clansmen rose together + From their lair amidst the broom. + Then we belted on our tartans, + And our bonnets down we drew, + As we felt our broadswords' edges, + And we proved them to be true; + And we prayed the prayer of soldiers, + And we cried the gathering-cry, + And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, + And we swore to do or die! + Then our leader rode before us, + On his war-horse black as night-- + Well the Cameronian rebels + Knew that charger in the fight!-- + And a cry of exultation + From the bearded warrior rose; + For we loved the house of Claver'se, + And we thought of good Montrose. + But he raised his hand for silence-- + "Soldiers! I have sworn a vow; + Ere the evening star shall glisten + On Schehallion's lofty brow, + Either we shall rest in triumph, + Or another of the Graemes + Shall have died in battle-harness + For his country and King James! + Think upon the royal martyr-- + Think of what his race endure-- + Think on him whom butchers murdered + On the field of Magus Muir[1]: + By his sacred blood I charge ye, + By the ruined hearth and shrine-- + By the blighted hopes of Scotland, + By your injuries and mine-- + Strike this day as if the anvil + Lay beneath your blows the while, + Be they Covenanting traitors, + Or the blood of false Argyle! + Strike! and drive the trembling rebels + Backwards o'er the stormy Forth; + Let them tell their pale Convention + How they fared within the North. + Let them tell that Highland honor + Is not to be bought nor sold; + That we scorn their prince's anger, + As we loathe his foreign gold. + Strike! and when the fight is over, + If you look in vain for me, + Where the dead are lying thickest + Search for him that was Dundee!" + + [Footnote 1: Archbishop Sharp, Lord Primate of Scotland.] + + + + III + + Loudly then the hills re-echoed + With our answer to his call, + But a deeper echo sounded + In the bosoms of us all. + For the lands of wide Breadalbane, + Not a man who heard him speak + Would that day have left the battle. + Burning eye and flushing cheek + Told the clansmen's fierce emotion, + And they harder drew their breath; + For their souls were strong within them, + Stronger than the grasp of Death. + Soon we heard a challenge trumpet + Sounding in the Pass below, + And the distant tramp of horses, + And the voices of the foe; + Down we crouched amid the bracken, + Till the Lowland ranks drew near, + Panting like the hounds in summer, + When they scent the stately deer. + From the dark defile emerging, + Next we saw the squadrons come, + Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers + Marching to the tuck of drum; + Through the scattered wood of birches, + O'er the broken ground and heath, + Wound the long battalion slowly, + Till they gained the field beneath; + Then we bounded from our covert,-- + Judge how looked the Saxons then, + When they saw the rugged mountain + Start to life with armed men! + Like a tempest down the ridges + Swept the hurricane of steel, + Rose the slogan of Macdonald-- + Flashed the broadsword of Lochiel! + Vainly sped the withering volley + 'Mongst the foremost of our band-- + On we poured until we met them + Foot to foot and hand to hand. + Horse and man went down like drift-wood + When the floods are black at Yule, + And their carcasses are whirling + In the Garry's deepest pool. + Horse and man went down before us-- + Living foe there tarried none + On the field of Killiecrankie, + When that stubborn fight was done! + + + IV + + And the evening star was shining + On Schehallion's distant head, + When we wiped our bloody broadswords, + And returned to count the dead. + There we found him gashed and gory, + Stretched upon the cumbered plain, + As he told us where to seek him, + In the thickest of the slain. + And a smile was on his visage, + For within his dying ear + Pealed the joyful note of triumph + And the clansmen's clamorous cheer: + So, amidst the battle's thunder, + Shot, and steel, and scorching flame, + In the glory of his manhood + Passed the spirit of the Graeme! + + + V + + Open wide the vaults of Athol, + Where the bones of heroes rest-- + Open wide the hallowed portals + To receive another guest! + Last of Scots, and last of freemen-- + Last of all that dauntless race + Who would rather die unsullied, + Than outlive the land's disgrace! + O thou lion-hearted warrior! + Reck not of the after-time: + Honor may be deemed dishonor, + Loyalty be called a crime. + Sleep in peace with kindred ashes + Of the noble and the true, + Hands that never failed their country, + Hearts that never baseness knew. + Sleep!--and till the latest trumpet + Wakes the dead from earth and sea, + Scotland shall not boast a braver + Chieftain than our own Dundee! + + + THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE + + From 'Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers' + + Come hither, Evan Cameron! + Come, stand beside my knee-- + I hear the river roaring down + Toward the wintry sea. + There's shouting on the mountain-side, + There's war within the blast-- + Old faces look upon me, + Old forms go trooping past. + I hear the pibroch wailing + Amidst the din of fight, + And my dim spirit wakes again + Upon the verge of night. + + 'Twas I that led the Highland host + Through wild Lochaber's snows, + What time the plaided clans came down + To battle with Montrose. + I've told thee how the Southrons fell + Beneath the broad claymore, + And how we smote the Campbell clan + By Inverlochy's shore; + I've told thee how we swept Dundee, + And tamed the Lindsays' pride: + But never have I told thee yet + How the great Marquis died. + + A traitor sold him to his foes;-- + A deed of deathless shame! + I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet + With one of Assynt's name,-- + Be it upon the mountain's side + Or yet within the glen, + Stand he in martial gear alone, + Or backed by armed men,-- + Face him, as thou wouldst face the man + Who wronged thy sire's renown; + Remember of what blood thou art, + And strike the caitiff down! + + They brought him to the Watergate, + Hard bound with hempen span, + As though they held a lion there, + And not a fenceless man. + They set him high upon a cart,-- + The hangman rode below,-- + They drew his hands behind his back + And bared his noble brow. + Then, as a hound is slipped from leash, + They cheered, the common throng, + And blew the note with yell and shout, + And bade him pass along. + + It would have made a brave man's heart + Grow sad and sick that day, + To watch the keen malignant eyes + Bent down on that array. + There stood the Whig West-country lords + In balcony and bow; + There sat their gaunt and withered dames, + And their daughters all arow. + And every open window + Was full as full might be + With black-robed Covenanting carles, + That goodly sport to see! + + But when he came, though pale and wan, + He looked so great and high, + So noble was his manly front, + So calm his steadfast eye,-- + The rabble rout forbore to shout, + And each man held his breath, + For well they knew the hero's soul + Was face to face with death. + And then a mournful shudder + Through all the people crept, + And some that came to scoff at him + Now turned aside and wept. + + But onwards--always onwards, + In silence and in gloom, + The dreary pageant labored, + Till it reached the house of doom. + Then first a woman's voice was heard + In jeer and laughter loud, + And an angry cry and hiss arose + From the heart of the tossing crowd; + Then, as the Graeme looked upwards, + He saw the ugly smile + Of him who sold his king for gold-- + The master-fiend Argyle! + + The Marquis gazed a moment, + And nothing did he say, + But the cheek of Argyle grew ghastly pale, + And he turned his eyes away. + The painted harlot by his side, + She shook through every limb, + For a roar like thunder swept the street, + And hands were clenched at him; + And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, + "Back, coward, from thy place! + For seven long years thou hast not dared + To look him in the face." + + Had I been there with sword in hand, + And fifty Camerons by, + That day through high Dunedin's streets + Had pealed the slogan-cry. + Not all their troops of trampling horse, + Nor might of mailed men-- + Not all the rebels in the South + Had borne us backward then! + Once more his foot on Highland heath + Had trod as free as air, + Or I, and all who bore my name, + Been laid around him there! + + It might not be. They placed him next + Within the solemn hall, + Where once the Scottish kings were throned + Amidst their nobles all. + But there was dust of vulgar feet + On that polluted floor, + And perjured traitors filled the place + Where good men sate before. + With savage glee came Warriston + To read the murderous doom; + And then uprose the great Montrose + In the middle of the room. + + "Now, by my faith as belted knight, + And by the name I bear, + And by the bright Saint Andrew's cross + That waves above us there,-- + Yea, by a greater, mightier oath-- + And oh, that such should be!--By + that dark stream of royal blood + That lies 'twixt you and me,-- + have not sought in battle-field + A wreath of such renown, + Nor dared I hope on my dying day + To win the martyr's crown. + + "There is a chamber far away + Where sleep the good and brave, + But a better place ye have named for me + Than by my father's grave. + For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might, + This hand hath always striven, + And ye raise it up for a witness still + In the eye of earth and heaven. + Then nail my head on yonder tower-- + Give every town a limb--And + God who made shall gather them: + I go from you to Him!" + + The morning dawned full darkly, + The rain came flashing down, + And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt + Lit up the gloomy town. + The thunder crashed across the heaven, + The fatal hour was come; + Yet aye broke in, with muffled beat, + The larum of the drum. + There was madness on the earth below + And anger in the sky, + And young and old, and rich and poor, + Come forth to see him die. + + Ah, God! that ghastly gibbet! + How dismal 'tis to see + The great tall spectral skeleton, + The ladder and the tree! + Hark! hark! it is the clash of arms-- + The bells begin to toll-- + "He is coming! he is coming! + God's mercy on his soul!" + One long last peal of thunder-- + The clouds are cleared away, + And the glorious sun once more looks down + Amidst the dazzling day. + + "He is coming! he is coming!" + Like a bridegroom from his room, + Came the hero from his prison, + To the scaffold and the doom. + There was glory on his forehead, + There was lustre in his eye, + And he never walked to battle + More proudly than to die; + There was color in his visage, + Though the cheeks of all were wan, + And they marveled as they saw him pass, + That great and goodly man! + + He mounted up the scaffold, + And he turned him to the crowd; + But they dared not trust the people, + So he might not speak aloud. + But looked upon the heavens + And they were clear and blue, + And in the liquid ether + The eye of God shone through: + Yet a black and murky battlement + Lay resting on the hill, + As though the thunder slept within-- + All else was calm and still. + + The grim Geneva ministers + With anxious scowl drew near, + As you have seen the ravens flock + Around the dying deer. + He would not deign them word nor sign, + But alone he bent the knee, + And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace + Beneath the gallows-tree. + Then radiant and serene he rose, + And cast his cloak away; + For he had ta'en his latest look + Of earth and sun and day. + + A beam of light fell o'er him, + Like a glory round the shriven, + And he climbed the lofty ladder + As it were the path to heaven. + Then came a flash from out the cloud, + And a stunning thunder-roll; + And no man dared to look aloft, + For fear was on every soul. + There was another heavy sound, + A hush and then a groan; + And darkness swept across the sky-- + The work of death was done! + + + THE BROKEN PITCHER + + From the 'Bon Gaultier Ballads' + + It was a Moorish maiden was sitting by a well, + And what that maiden thought of, I cannot, cannot tell, + When by there rode a valiant knight, from the town of Oviedo-- + Alphonso Guzman was he hight, the Count of Desparedo. + + "O maiden, Moorish maiden! why sitt'st thou by the spring? + Say, dost thou seek a lover, or any other thing? + Why gazest thou upon me, with eyes so large and wide, + And wherefore doth the pitcher lie broken by thy side?" + + "I do not seek a lover, thou Christian knight so gay, + Because an article like that hath never come my way; + But why I gaze upon you, I cannot, cannot tell, + Except that in your iron hose you look uncommon swell. + + "My pitcher it is broken, and this the reason is-- + A shepherd came behind me, and tried to snatch a kiss; + I would not stand his nonsense, so ne'er a word I spoke, + But scored him on the costard, and so the jug was broke. + + "My uncle, the Alcayde, he waits for me at home, + And will not take his tumbler until Zorayda come. + I cannot bring him water,--the pitcher is in pieces; + And so I'm sure to catch it, 'cos he wallops all his nieces. + + "O maiden, Moorish maiden! wilt thou be ruled by me? + So wipe thine eyes and rosy lips, and give me kisses three; + And I'll give thee my helmet, thou kind and courteous lady, + To carry home the water to thy uncle, the Alcayde." + + He lighted down from off his steed--he tied him to a tree-- + He bowed him to the maiden, and took his kisses three: + "To wrong thee, sweet Zorayda, I swear would be a sin!" + He knelt him at the fountain, and dipped his helmet in. + + Up rose the Moorish maiden--behind the knight she steals, + And caught Alphonso Guzman up tightly by the heels; + She tipped him in, and held him down beneath the bubbling water,-- + "Now, take thou that for venturing to kiss Al Hamet's daughter!" + + A Christian maid is weeping in the town of Oviedo; + She waits the coming of her love, the Count of Desparedo. + I pray you all in charity, that you will never tell + How he met the Moorish maiden beside the lonely well. + + + SONNET TO BRITAIN + + "BY THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON" + + Halt! Shoulder arms! Recover! As you were! + Right wheel! Eyes left! Attention! Stand at ease! + O Britain! O my country! Words like these + Have made thy name a terror and a fear + To all the nations. Witness Ebro's banks, + Assaye, Toulouse, Nivelle, and Waterloo, + Where the grim despot muttered, _Sauve qui pent!_ + And Ney fled darkling.--Silence in the ranks! + Inspired by these, amidst the iron crash + Of armies, in the centre of his troop + The soldier stands--unmovable, not rash-- + Until the forces of the foemen droop; + Then knocks the Frenchmen to eternal smash, + Pounding them into mummy. Shoulder, hoop! + + +A BALL IN THE UPPER CIRCLES + +From "The Modern Endymion" + +'Twas a hot season in the skies. Sirius held the ascendant, and under +his influence even the radiant band of the Celestials began to droop, +while the great ball-room of Olympus grew gradually more and more +deserted. For nearly a week had Orpheus, the leader of the heavenly +orchestra, played to a deserted floor. The _elite_ would no longer +figure in the waltz. + +Juno obstinately kept her room, complaining of headache and ill-temper. +Ceres, who had lately joined a dissenting congregation, objected +generally to all frivolous amusements; and Minerva had established, in +opposition, a series of literary soirees, at which Pluto nightly +lectured on the fine arts and phrenology, to a brilliant and fashionable +audience. The Muses, with Hebe and some of the younger deities, alone +frequented the assemblies; but with all their attractions there was +still a sad lack of partners. The younger gods had of late become +remarkably dissipated, messed three times a week at least with Mars in +the barracks, and seldom separated sober. Bacchus had been sent to +Coventry by the ladies, for appearing one night in the ball-room, after +a hard sederunt, so drunk that he measured his length upon the floor +after a vain attempt at a mazurka; and they likewise eschewed the +company of Pan, who had become an abandoned smoker, and always smelt +infamously of cheroots. But the most serious defection, as also the most +unaccountable, was that of the beautiful Diana, _par excellence_ the +belle of the season, and assuredly the most graceful nymph that ever +tripped along the halls of heaven. She had gone off suddenly to the +country, without alleging any intelligible excuse, and with her the last +attraction of the ball-room seemed to have disappeared. Even Venus, the +perpetual lady patroness, saw that the affair was desperate. + +"Ganymede, _mon beau garcon_," said she, one evening at an unusually +thin assembly, "we must really give it up at last. Matters are growing +worse and worse, and in another week we shall positively not have enough +to get up a tolerable gallopade. Look at these seven poor Muses sitting +together on the sofa. Not a soul has spoken to them to-night, except +that horrid Silenus, who dances nothing but Scotch reels." + +"_Pardieu!_" replied the young Trojan, fixing his glass in his eye. +"There may be a reason for that. The girls are decidedly _passees_, and +most inveterate blues. But there's dear little Hebe, who never wants +partners, though that clumsy Hercules insists upon his conjugal rights, +and keeps moving after her like an enormous shadow. 'Pon my soul, I've a +great mind--Do you think, _ma belle tante_, that anything might be done +in that quarter?" + +"Oh fie, Ganymede--fie for shame!" said Flora, who was sitting close to +the Queen of Love, and overheard the conversation. "You horrid, naughty +man, how can you talk so?" + +"_Pardon, ma chere_!" replied the exquisite with a languid smile. "You +must excuse my _badinage_; and indeed, a glance of your fair eyes were +enough at any time to recall me to my senses. By the way, what a +beautiful _bouquet_ you have there. _Parole d'honneur_, I am quite +jealous. May I ask who sent it?" + +"What a goose you are!" said Flora, in evident confusion: "how should I +know? Some general admirer like yourself, I suppose." + +"Apollo is remarkably fond of hyacinths, I believe," said Ganymede, +looking significantly at Venus. "Ah, well! I see how it is. We poor +detrimentals must break our hearts in silence. It is clear we have no +chance with the _preux chevalier_ of heaven." + +"Really, Ganymede, you are very severe this evening," said Venus with a +smile; "but tell me, have you heard anything of Diana?" + +"Ah! _la belle Diane_? They say she is living in the country somewhere +about Caria, at a place they call Latmos Cottage, cultivating her faded +roses--what a color Hebe has!--and studying the sentimental." + +"_Tant pis_! She is a great loss to us," said Venus. "Apropos, you will +be at Neptune's _fete champetre_ to-morrow, _n'est ce pas?_ We shall +then finally determine about abandoning the assemblies. But I must go +home now. The carriage has been waiting this hour, and my doves may +catch cold. I suppose that boy Cupid will not be home till all hours of +the morning." + +"Why, I believe the Rainbow Club _does_ meet to-night, after the +dancing," said Ganymede significantly. "This is the last oyster-night of +the season." + +"Gracious goodness! The boy will be quite tipsy," said Venus. "Do, dear +Ganymede! try to keep him sober. But now, give me your arm to the +cloak-room." + +"_Volontiers_!" said the exquisite. + +As Venus rose to go, there was a rush of persons to the further end of +the room, and the music ceased. Presently, two or three voices were +heard calling for Aesculapius. + +"What's the row?" asked that learned individual, advancing leisurely +from the refreshment table, where he had been cramming himself with tea +and cakes. + +"Leda's fainted!" shrieked Calliope, who rushed past with her +vinaigrette in hand. + +"_Gammon_!" growled the Abernethy of heaven, as he followed her. + +"Poor Leda!" said Venus, as her cavalier adjusted her shawl. "These +fainting fits are decidedly alarming. I hope it is nothing more serious +than the weather." + +"I hope so, too," said Ganymede. "Let me put on the scarf. But people +will talk. Pray heaven it be not a second edition of that old scandal +about the eggs!" + +"_Fi done_! You odious creature! How can you? But after all, stranger +things have happened. There now, have done. Good-night!" and she stepped +into her chariot. + +"_Bon soir_" said the exquisite, kissing his hand as it rolled away. +"'Pon my soul, that's a splendid woman. I've a great mind--but there's +no hurry about that. _Revenons a nos oeufs._ I must learn something more +about this fainting fit." So saying, Ganymede re-ascended the stairs. + + +A HIGHLAND TRAMP + +From "Norman Sinclair" + +When summer came--for in Scotland, alas! there is no spring, winter +rolling itself remorselessly, like a huge polar bear, over what should +be the beds of the early flowers, and crushing them ere they +develop--when summer came, and the trees put on their pale-green +liveries, and the brakes were blue with the wood-hyacinth, and the ferns +unfolded their curl, what ecstasy it was to steal an occasional holiday, +and wander, rod in hand, by some quiet stream up in the moorlands, +inhaling health from every breeze, nor seeking shelter from the gentle +shower as it dropped its manna from the heavens! And then the long +holidays, when the town was utterly deserted--how I enjoyed these, as +they can only be enjoyed by the possess-ors of the double talisman of +strength and youth! No more care--no more trouble--no more task-work--no +thought even of the graver themes suggested by my later studies! +Look--standing on the Calton Hill, behold yon blue range of mountains to +the west--cannot you name each pinnacle from its form? Benledi, +Benvoirlich, Benlomond! Oh, the beautiful land, the elysium that lies +round the base of those distant giants! The forest of Glenfinlas, Loch +Achray with its weeping birches, the grand defiles of the Trosachs, and +Ellen's Isle, the pearl of the one lake that genius has forever +hallowed! Up, sluggard! Place your knapsack on your back; but stow it +not with unnecessary gear, for you have still further to go, and your +rod also must be your companion, if you mean to penetrate the region +beyond. Money? Little money suffices him who travels on foot, who can +bring his own fare to the shepherd's bothy where he is to sleep, and who +sleeps there better and sounder than the tourist who rolls from station +to station in his barouche, grumbling because the hotels are +overcrowded, and miserable about the airing of his sheets. Money? You +would laugh if you heard me mention the sum which has sufficed for my +expenditure during a long summer month; for the pedestrian, humble +though he be, has his own especial privileges, and not the least of +these is that he is exempted from all extortion. Donald--God bless +him!--has a knack of putting on the prices; and when an English family +comes posting up to the door of his inn, clamorously demanding every +sort of accommodation which a metropolitan hotel could afford, grumbling +at the lack of attendance, sneering at the quality of the food, and +turning the whole establishment upside down for their own selfish +gratification, he not unreasonably determines that the extra trouble +shall be paid for in that gold which rarely crosses his fingers except +during the short season when tourists and sportsmen abound. But Donald, +who is descended from the M'Gregor, does not make spoil of the poor. The +sketcher or the angler who come to his door, with the sweat upon their +brow and the dust of the highway or the pollen of the heather on their +feet, meet with a hearty welcome; and though the room in which their +meals are served is but low in the roof, and the floor strewn with sand, +and the attic wherein they lie is garnished with two beds and a +shake-down, yet are the viands wholesome, the sheets clean, and the +tariff so undeniably moderate that even parsimony cannot complain. So up +in the morning early, so soon as the first beams of the sun slant into +the chamber--down to the loch or river, and with a headlong plunge +scrape acquaintance with the pebbles at the bottom; then rising with a +hearty gasp, strike out for the islet or the further bank, to the +astonishment of the otter, who, thief that he is, is skulking back to +his hole below the old saugh-tree, from a midnight foray up the burns. +Huzza! The mallard, dozing among the reeds, has taken fright, and +tucking up his legs under his round fat rump, flies quacking to a +remoter marsh. + + "By the pricking of my thumbs, + Something wicked this way comes," + +and lo! Dugald the keeper, on his way to the hill, is arrested by the +aquatic phenomenon, and half believes that he is witnessing the frolics +of an Urisk! Then make your toilet on the green-sward, swing your +knapsack over your shoulders, and cover ten good miles of road before +you halt before breakfast with more than the appetite of an ogre. + +In this way I made the circuit of well-nigh the whole of the Scottish +Highlands, penetrating as far as Cape Wrath and the wild district of +Edderachylis, nor leaving unvisited the grand scenery of Loch Corruisk, +and the stormy peaks of Skye; and more than one delightful week did I +spend each summer, exploring Gameshope, or the Linns of Talla, where the +Covenanters of old held their gathering; or clambering up the steep +ascent by the Grey Mare's Tail to lonely and lovely Loch Skene, or +casting for trout in the silver waters of St. Mary's. + + + + +MASSIMO TAPARELLI D'AZEGLIO + +(1798-1866) + + +Massimo Taparelli, Marquis d'Azeglio, like his greater colleague and +sometime rival in the Sardinian Ministry, Cavour, wielded a graceful and +forcible pen, and might have won no slight distinction in the peaceful +paths of literature and art as well, had he not been before everything +else a patriot. Of ancient and noble Piedmontese stock, he was born at +Turin in October, 1798. In his fifteenth year the youth accompanied his +father to Rome, where the latter had been appointed ambassador, and thus +early he was inspired with the passion for painting and music which +never left him. In accordance with the paternal wish he entered on a +military career, but soon abandoned the service to devote himself to +art. But after a residence of eight years (1821-29) in the papal +capital, having acquired both skill and fame as a landscape painter, +D'Azeglio began to direct his thoughts to letters and politics. + +After the death of his father in 1830 he settled in Milan, where he +formed the acquaintance of the poet and novelist Alessandro Manzoni, +whose daughter he married, and under whose influence he became deeply +interested in literature, especially in its relation to the political +events of those stirring times. The agitation against Austrian +domination was especially marked in the north of Italy, where Manzoni +had made himself prominent; and so it came to pass that Massimo +d'Azeglio plunged into literature with the ardent hope of stimulating +the national sense of independence and unity. + +In 1833 he published, not without misgivings, 'Ettore Fieramosca,' his +first romance, in which he aimed to teach Italians how to fight for +national honor. The work achieved an immediate and splendid success, and +unquestionably served as a powerful aid to the awakening of Italy's +ancient patriotism. It was followed in 1841 by 'Nicolo de' Lapi,' a +story conceived in similar vein, with somewhat greater pretensions to +literary finish. D'Azeglio now became known as one of the foremost +representatives of the moderate party, and exerted the potent influence +of his voice as well as of his pen in diffusing liberal propaganda. In +1846 he published the bold pamphlet 'Gli Ultimi Casi di Romagna' (On the +Recent Events in Romagna), in which he showed the danger and utter +futility of ill-advised republican outbreaks, and the paramount +necessity of adopting thereafter a wiser and more practical policy to +gain the great end desired. Numerous trenchant political articles issued +from his pen during the next two years. The year 1849 found him a member +of the first Sardinian parliament, and in March of that year Victor +Emmanuel called him to the presidency of the Council with the portfolio +of Foreign Affairs. Obliged to give way three years later before the +rising genius of Cavour, he served his country with distinction on +several important diplomatic missions after the peace of Villafranca, +and died in his native city on the 15th of January, 1866. + +In 1867 appeared D'Azeglio's autobiography, 'I Miei Ricordi,' translated +into English by Count Maffei under title of 'My Recollections' which is +undeniably the most interesting and thoroughly delightful product of his +pen. "He was a 'character,'" said an English critic at the time: "a man +of whims and oddities, of hobbies and crotchets.... This character of +individuality, which impressed its stamp on his whole life, is +charmingly revealed in every sentence of the memoirs which he has left +behind him; so that, more than any of his previous writings, their +mingled homeliness and wit and wisdom justify the epithet which I once +before ventured to give him when I described him as 'the Giusti of +Italian prose.'" As a polemic writer D'Azeglio was recognized as one of +the chief forces in molding public opinion. If he had not been both +patriot and statesman, this versatile genius, as before intimated, would +not improbably have gained an enviable reputation in the realm of art; +and although his few novels are--perhaps with justice--no longer +remembered, they deeply stirred the hearts of his countrymen in their +day, and to say the least are characterized by good sense, facility of +execution, and a refined imaginative power. + + +A HAPPY CHILDHOOD + +From 'My Recollections' + +The distribution of our daily occupations was strictly laid down for +Matilde and me in black and white, and these rules were not to be broken +with impunity. We were thus accustomed to habits of order, and never to +make anybody wait for our convenience; a fault which is one of the most +troublesome that can be committed either by great people or small. + +I remember one day that Matilde, having gone out with Teresa, came home +when we had been at dinner some time. It was winter, and snow was +falling. The two culprits sat down a little confused, and their soup was +brought them in two plates, which had been kept hot; but can you guess +where? On the balcony; so that the contents were not only below +freezing-point, but actually had a thick covering of snow! + +At dinner, of course my sister and I sat perfectly silent, waiting our +turn, without right of petition or remonstrance. As to the other +proprieties of behavior, such as neatness, and not being noisy or +boisterous, we knew well that the slightest infraction would have +entailed banishment for the rest of the day at least. Our great anxiety +was to eclipse ourselves as much as possible; and I assure you that +under this system we never fancied ourselves the central points of +importance round which all the rest of the world was to revolve,--an +idea which, thanks to absurd indulgence and flattery, is often forcibly +thrust, I may say, into poor little brains, which if left to themselves +would never have lost their natural simplicity. + +The lessons of 'Galateo' were not enforced at dinner only. Even at other +times we were forbidden to raise our voices or interrupt the +conversation of our elders, still more to quarrel with each other. If +sometimes as we went to dinner I rushed forward before Matilde, my +father would take me by the arm and make me come last, saying, "There is +no need to be uncivil because she is your sister." The old generation in +many parts of Italy have the habit of shouting and raising their voices +as if their interlocutor were deaf, interrupting him as if he had no +right to speak, and poking him in the ribs and otherwise, as if he could +only be convinced by sensations of bodily pain. The regulations observed +in my family were therefore by no means superfluous; and would to +Heaven they were universally adopted as the law of the land! + +On another occasion my excellent mother gave me a lesson of humility, +which I shall never forget any more than the place where I received it. + +In the open part of the Cascine, which was once used as a race-course, +to the right of the space where the carriages stand, there is a walk +alongside the wood. I was walking there one day with my mother, followed +by an old servant, a countryman of Pylades; less heroic than the latter, +but a very good fellow too. I forget why, but I raised a little cane I +had in my hand, and I am afraid I struck him. My mother, before all the +passers-by, obliged me to kneel down and beg his pardon. I can still see +poor Giacolin taking off his hat with a face of utter bewilderment, +quite unable to comprehend how it was that the Chevalier Massimo +Taparelli d'Azeglio came to be at his feet. + +An indifference to bodily pain was another of the precepts most +carefully instilled by our father; and as usual, the lesson was made +more impressive by example whenever an opportunity presented itself. If, +for instance, we complained of any slight pain or accident, our father +used to say, half in fun, half in earnest, "When a Piedmontese has both +his arms and legs broken, and has received two sword-thrusts in the +body, he may be allowed to say, but not till then, 'Really, I almost +think I am not quite well.'" + +The moral authority he had acquired over me was so great that in no case +would I have disobeyed him, even had he ordered me to jump out +of window. + +I recollect that when my first tooth was drawn, I was in an agony of +fright as we went to the dentist; but outwardly I was brave enough, and +tried to seem as indifferent as possible. On another occasion my +childish courage and also my father's firmness were put to a more +serious test. He had hired a house called the Villa Billi, which stands +about half a mile from San Domenico di Fiesole, on the right winding up +toward the hill. Only two years ago I visited the place, and found the +same family of peasants still there, and my two old playmates, Nando and +Sandro,--who had both become even greater fogies than myself,--and we +had a hearty chat together about bygone times. + +Whilst living at this villa, our father was accustomed to take us out +for long walks, which were the subject of special regulations. We were +strictly forbidden to ask, "Have we far to go?"--"What time is it?" or +to say, "I am thirsty; I am hungry; I am tired:" but in everything else +we had full liberty of speech and action. Returning from one of these +excursions, we one day found ourselves below Castel di Poggio, a rugged +stony path leading towards Vincigliata. In one hand I had a nosegay of +wild flowers, gathered by the way, and in the other a stick, when I +happened to stumble, and fell awkwardly. My father sprang forward to +pick me up, and seeing that one arm pained me, he examined it and found +that in fact the bone was broken below the elbow. All this time my eyes +were fixed upon him, and I could see his countenance change, and assume +such an expression of tenderness and anxiety that he no longer appeared +to be the same man. He bound up my arm as well as he could, and we then +continued our way homewards. After a few moments, during which my father +had resumed his usual calmness, he said to me:-- + +"Listen, Mammolino: your mother is not well. If she knows you are hurt +it will make her worse. You must be brave, my boy: to-morrow morning we +will go to Florence, where all that is needful can be done for you; but +this evening you must not show you are in pain. Do you understand?" + +All this was said with his usual firmness and authority, but also with +the greatest affection. I was only too glad to have so important and +difficult a task intrusted to me. The whole evening I sat quietly in a +corner, supporting my poor little broken arm as best I could, and my +mother only thought me tired by the long walk, and had no suspicion of +the truth. + +The next day I was taken to Florence, and my arm was set; but to +complete the cure I had to be sent to the Baths of Vinadio a few years +afterward. Some people may, in this instance, think my father was cruel. +I remember the fact as if it were but yesterday, and I am sure such an +idea never for one minute entered my mind. The expression of ineffable +tenderness which I had read in his eyes had so delighted me, it seemed +so reasonable to avoid alarming my mother, that I looked on the hard +task allotted me as a fine opportunity of displaying my courage. I did +so because I had not been spoilt, and good principles had been early +implanted within me: and now that I am an old man and have known the +world, I bless the severity of my father; and I could wish every Italian +child might have one like him, and derive more profit than I did,--in +thirty years' time Italy would then be the first of nations. + +Moreover, it is a fact that children are much more observant than is +commonly supposed, and never regard as hostile a just but affectionate +severity. I have always seen them disposed to prefer persons who keep +them in order to those who constantly yield to their caprices; and +soldiers are just the same in this respect. + +The following is another example to prove that my father did not deserve +to be called cruel:-- + +He thought it a bad practice to awaken children suddenly, or to let +their sleep be abruptly disturbed. If we had to rise early for a +journey, he would come to my bedside and softly hum a popular song, two +lines of which still ring in my ears:-- + + "Chi vuol veder l'aurora + Lasci le molli plume." + + (He who the early dawn would view + Downy pillows must eschew.) + +And by gradually raising his voice, he awoke me without the slightest +start. In truth, with all his severity, Heaven knows how I loved him. + + +THE PRIESTHOOD + +From "My Recollections" + +My occupations in Rome were not entirely confined to the domains of +poetry and imagination. It must not be forgotten that I was also a +diplomatist; and in that capacity I had social as well as official +duties to perform. + +The Holy Alliance had accepted the confession and repentance of Murat, +and had granted him absolution; but as the new convert inspired little +confidence, he was closely watched, in the expectation--and perhaps the +hope--of an opportunity of crowning the work by the infliction +of penance. + +The penance intended was to deprive him of his crown and sceptre, and to +turn him out of the pale. Like all the other diplomatists resident in +Rome, we kept our court well informed of all that could be known or +surmised regarding the intentions of the Neapolitan government; and I +had the lively occupation of copying page after page of incomprehensible +cipher for the newborn archives of our legation. Such was my life at +that time; and in spite of the cipher, I soon found it pleasant enough. +Dinner-parties, balls, routs, and fashionable society did not then +inspire me with the holy horror which now keeps me away from them. +Having never before experienced or enjoyed anything of the kind, I was +satisfied. But in the midst of my pleasure, our successor--Marquis San +Saturnino--made his appearance, and we had to prepare for our departure. +One consolation, however, remained. I had just then been appointed to +the high rank of cornet in the crack dragoon regiment "Royal Piedmont." +I had never seen its uniform, but I cherished a vague hope of being +destined by Fortune to wear a helmet; and the prospect of realizing this +splendid dream of my infancy prevented me from regretting my Roman +acquaintances overmuch. + +The Society of Jesus had meanwhile been restored, and my brother was on +the eve of taking the vows. He availed himself of the last days left him +before that ceremony to sit for his portrait to the painter Landi. This +is one of that artist's best works, who, poor man, cannot boast of many; +and it now belongs to my nephew Emanuel. + +The day of the ceremony at length arrived, and I accompanied my brother +to the Convent of Monte Cavallo, where it was to take place. + +The Jesuits at that time were all greatly rejoicing at the revival of +their order; and as may be inferred, they were mostly old men, with only +a few young novices among them. + +We entered an oratory fragrant with the flowers adorning the altar, full +of silver ornaments, holy images, and burning wax-lights, with +half-closed windows and carefully drawn blinds; for it is a certain, +although unexplained, fact that men are more devout in the dark than in +the light, at night than in the day-time, and with their eyes closed +rather than open. We were received by the General of the order, Father +Panizzoni, a little old man bent double with age, his eyes encircled +with red, half blind, and I believe almost in his dotage. He was +shedding tears of joy, and we all maintained the pious and serious +aspect suited to the occasion, until the time arrived for the novice to +step forward, when, lo! Father Panizzoni advanced with open arms toward +the place where I stood, mistaking me for my brother; a blunder which +for a moment imperiled the solemnity of the assembly. + +Had I yielded to the embrace of Father Panizzoni, it would have been a +wonderful bargain both for him and me. But this was not the only +invitation I then received to enter upon a sacerdotal career. Monsignor +Morozzo, my great-uncle and god-father, then secretary to the bishops +and regular monks, one day proposed that I should enter the +Ecclesiastical Academy, and follow the career of the prelacy under his +patronage. The idea seemed so absurd that I could not help laughing +heartily, and the subject was never revived. + +Had I accepted these overtures, I might in the lapse of time have long +since been a cardinal, and perhaps even Pope. And if so, I should have +drawn the world after me, as the shepherd entices a lamb with a lump of +salt. It was very wrong in me to refuse. Doubtless the habit of +expressing my opinion to every one, and on all occasions, would have led +me into many difficulties. I must either have greatly changed, or a very +few years would have seen an end of me. + +We left Rome at last, in the middle of winter, in an open carriage, and +traveling chiefly by night, as was my father's habit. While the horses +are trotting on, I will sum up the impressions of Rome and the Roman +world which I was carrying away. The clearest idea present to my mind +was that the priests of Rome and their religion had very little in +common with my father and Don Andreis, or with the religion professed by +them and by the priests and the devout laity of Turin. I had not been +able to detect the slightest trace of that which in the language of +asceticism is called unction. I know not why, but that grave and +downcast aspect, enlivened only by a few occasional flashes of ponderous +clerical wit, the atmosphere depressing as the _plumbeus auster_ of +Horace, in which I had been brought up under the rule of my priest,--all +seemed unknown at Rome. There I never met with a monsignore or a priest +who did not step out with a pert and jaunty air, his head erect, showing +off a well-made leg, and daintily attired in the garb of a clerical +dandy. Their conversation turned upon every possible subject, and +sometimes upon _quibusdam aliis_, to such a degree that it was evident +my father was perpetually on thorns. I remember a certain prelate, whom +I will not name, and whose conduct was, I believe, sufficiently free and +easy, who at a dinner-party at a villa near Porta Pia related laughingly +some matrimonial anecdotes, which I at that time did not fully +understand. And I remember also my poor father's manifest distress, and +his strenuous endeavors to change the conversation and direct it into a +different channel. + +The prelates and priests whom I used to meet in less orthodox companies +than those frequented by my father seemed to me still more free and +easy. Either in the present or in the past, in theory or in practice, +with more or less or even no concealment, they all alike were sailing or +had sailed on the sweet _fleuve du tendre_. For instance, I met one old +canon bound to a venerable dame by a tie of many years' standing. I also +met a young prelate with a pink-and-white complexion and eyes expressive +of anything but holiness; he was a desperate votary of the fair sex, and +swaggered about paying his homage right and left. Will it be believed, +this gay apostle actually told me, without circumlocution, that in the +monastery of Tor di Specchi there dwelt a young lady who was in love +with me? I, who of course desired no better, took the hint instantly, +and had her pointed out to me. Then began an interchange of silly +messages, of languishing looks, and a hundred absurdities of the same +kind; all cut short by the pair of post-horses which carried us out of +the Porta del Popolo.... + +The opinions of my father respecting the clergy and the Court of Rome +were certainly narrow and prejudiced; but with his good sense it was +impossible for him not to perceive what was manifest even to a blind +man. During our journey he kept insinuating (without appearing, however, +to attach much importance to it) that it was always advisable to speak +with proper respect of a country where we had been well received, even +if we had noticed a great many abuses and disorders. To a certain +extent, this counsel was well worthy of attention. He was doubtless much +grieved at the want of decency apparent in one section of that society, +or, to use a modern expression, at its absence of respectability; but he +consoled himself by thinking, like Abraham the Jew in the 'Decameron,' +that no better proof can be given of the truth of the religion professed +by Rome than the fact of its enduring in such hands. + +This reasoning, however, is not quite conclusive; for if Boccaccio had +had patience to wait another forty years, he would have learnt, first +from John Huss, and then from Luther and his followers, that although in +certain hands things may last a while, it is only till they are worn +out. What Boccaccio and the Jew would say now if they came back, I do +not venture to surmise, + + +MY FIRST VENTURE IN ROMANCE + +From 'My Recollections' + +While striving to acquire a good artistic position in my new residence, +I had still continued to work at my 'Fieramosca,' which was now almost +completed. Letters were at that time represented at Milan by Manzoni, +Grossi, Torti, Pompeo Litta, etc. The memories of the period of Monti, +Parini, Foscolo, Porta, Pellico, Verri, Beccaria, were still fresh; and +however much the living literary and scientific men might be inclined to +lead a secluded life, intrenched in their own houses, with the shyness +of people who disliked much intercourse with the world, yet by a little +tact those who wished for their company could overcome their reserve. As +Manzoni's son-in-law, I found myself naturally brought into contact with +them. I knew them all; but Grossi and I became particularly intimate, +and our close and uninterrupted friendship lasted until the day of his +but too premature death. I longed to show my work to him, and especially +to Manzoni, and ask their advice; but fear this time, not artistic but +literary, had again caught hold of me. Still, a resolve was necessary, +and was taken at last. I disclosed my secret, imploring forbearance and +advice, but no _indulgence_. I wanted the truth, the whole truth, and +nothing but the truth. I preferred the blame of a couple of trusted +friends to that of the public. Both seemed to have expected something a +great deal worse than what they heard, to judge by their startled but +also approving countenances, when my novel was read to them. Manzoni +remarked with a smile, "We literary men have a strange profession +indeed--any one can take it up in a day. Here is Massimo: the whim of +writing a novel seizes him, and upon my word he does not do badly, +after all!" + +This high approbation inspired me with leonine courage, and I set to +work again in earnest, so that in 1833 the work was ready for +publication. On thinking it over now, it strikes me that I was guilty of +great impertinence in thus bringing out and publishing with undaunted +assurance my little novel among all those literary big-wigs; I who had +never done or written anything before. But it was successful; and this +is an answer to every objection. + +The day I carried my bundle of manuscript to San Pietro all' Orto, and, +as Berni expresses it,-- + + "--ritrovato + Un che di stampar opere lavora, + Dissi, Stampami questa alla malora!" + + (--having + Discovered one, a publisher by trade, + 'Print me this book, bad luck to it!' I said.) + +I was in a still greater funk than on the two previous occasions. But I +had yet to experience the worst I ever felt in the whole course of my +life, and that was on the day of publication; when I went out in the +morning, and read my illustrious name placarded in large letters on the +street walls! I felt blinded by a thousand sparks. Now indeed _alea +jacta erat_, and my fleet was burnt to ashes. + +This great fear of the public may, with good-will, be taken for modesty; +but I hold that at bottom it is downright vanity. Of course I am +speaking of people endowed with a sufficient dose of talent and +common-sense; with fools, on the contrary, vanity takes the shape of +impudent self-confidence. Hence all the daily published amount of +nonsense; which would convey a strange idea of us to Europe, if it were +not our good fortune that Italian is not much understood abroad. As +regards our internal affairs, the two excesses are almost equally +noxious. In Parliament, for instance, the first, those of the timidly +vain genus, might give their opinion a little oftener with general +advantage; while if the others, the impudently vain, were not always +brawling, discussions would be more brief and rational, and public +business better and more quickly dispatched. The same reflection applies +to other branches--to journalism, literature, society, etc.; for vanity +is the bad weed which chokes up our political field; and as it is a +plant of hardy growth, blooming among us all the year round, it is just +as well to be on our guard. + +Timid vanity was terribly at work within me the day 'Fieramosca' was +published. For the first twenty-four hours it was impossible to learn +anything; for even the most zealous require at least a day to form some +idea of a book. Next morning, on first going out, I encountered a friend +of mine, a young fellow then and now a man of mature age, who has never +had a suspicion of the cruel blow he unconsciously dealt me. I met him +in Piazza San Fedele, where I lived; and after a few words, he said, "By +the by, I hear you have published a novel. Well done!" and then talked +away about something quite different with the utmost heedlessness. Not a +drop of blood was left in my veins, and I said to myself, "Mercy on me! +I am done for: not even a word is said about my poor 'Fieramosca!'" It +seemed incredible that he, who belonged to a very numerous family, +connected with the best society of the town, should have heard nothing, +if the slightest notice had been taken of it. As he was besides an +excellent fellow and a friend, it seemed equally incredible that if a +word had been said and heard, he should not have repeated it to me. +Therefore, it was a failure; the worst of failures, that of silence. +With a bitter feeling at heart, I hardly knew where I went; but this +feeling soon changed, and the bitterness was superseded by quite an +opposite sensation. + +'Fieramosca' succeeded, and succeeded so well that I felt _abasourdi_, +as the French express it; indeed, I could say "Je n'aurais jamais cru +etre si fort savant." My success went on in an increasing ratio: it +passed from the papers and from the masculine half to the feminine half +of society; it found its way to the studios and the stage. I became the +vade-mecum of every prima-donna and tenor, the hidden treat of +school-girls; I penetrated between the pillow and the mattress of +college, boys, of the military academy cadet; and my apotheosis reached +such a height that some newspapers asserted it to be Manzoni's work. It +is superfluous to add that only the ignorant could entertain such an +idea; those who were better informed would never have made such +a blunder. + +My aim, as I said, was to take the initiative in the slow work of the +regeneration of national character. I had no wish but to awaken high and +noble sentiments in Italian hearts; and if all the literary men in the +world had assembled to condemn me in virtue of strict rules, I should +not have cared a jot, if, in defiance of all existing rules, I succeeded +in inflaming the heart of one single individual. And I will also add, +who can say that what causes durable emotion is unorthodox? It may be at +variance with some rules and in harmony with others; and those which +move hearts and captivate intellects do not appear to me to be +the worst. + + + + +BABER + +(1482-1530) + +BY EDWARD S. HOLDEN + + +The emperor Baber was sixth in descent from Tamerlane, who died in 1405. +Tamerlane's conquests were world-wide, but they never formed a +homogeneous empire. Even in his lifetime he parceled them out to sons +and grandsons. Half a century later Trans-oxiana was divided into many +independent kingdoms each governed by a descendant of the great +conqueror. + +When Baber was born (1482), an uncle was King of Samarkand and Bokhara; +another uncle ruled Badakhshan; another was King of Kabul. A relative +was the powerful King of Khorasan. These princes were of the family of +Tamerlane, as was Baber's father,--Sultan Omer Sheikh Mirza, who was the +King of Ferghana. Two of Baber's maternal uncles, descendants of Chengiz +Khan, ruled the Moghul tribes to the west and north of Ferghana; and two +of their sisters had married the Kings of Samarkand and Badakhshan. The +third sister was Baber's mother, wife of the King of Ferghana. + +The capitals of their countries were cities like Samarkand, Bokhara, and +Herat. Tamerlane's grandson--Ulugh Beg--built at Samarkand the chief +astronomical observatory of the world, a century and a half before Tycho +Brahe (1576) erected Uranibourg in Denmark. The town was filled with +noble buildings,--mosques, tombs, and colleges. Its walls were five +miles in circumference[2]. + +[Footnote 2: Paris was walled in 1358; so Froissart tells us.] + +Its streets were paved (the streets of Paris were not paved till the +time of Henri IV.), and running water was distributed in pipes. Its +markets overflowed with fruits. Its cooks and bakers were noted for +their skill. Its colleges were full of learned men, poets[3], and +doctors of the law. The observatory counted more than a hundred +observers and calculators in its corps of astronomers. The products of +China, of India, and of Persia flowed to the bazaars. + +[Footnote 3: "In Samarkand, the Odes of Baiesanghar Mirza are so +popular, that there is not a house in which a copy of them may not be +found."--Baber's. 'Memoirs.'] + +Bokhara has always been the home of learning. Herat was at that time the +most magnificent and refined city of the world[4]. The court was +splendid, polite, intelligent, and liberal. Poetry, history, +philosophy, science, and the arts of painting and music were cultivated +by noblemen and scholars alike. Baber himself was a poet of no mean +rank. The religion was that of Islam, and the sect the orthodox Sunni; +but the practice was less precise than in Arabia. Wine was drunk; poetry +was prized; artists were encouraged. The mother-language of Baber was +Turki (of which the Turkish of Constantinople is a dialect). Arabic was +the language of science and of theology. Persian was the accepted +literary language, though Baber's verses are in Turki as well. + +[Footnote 4: Baber spent twenty days in visiting its various palaces, +towers, mosques, gardens, colleges--and gives a list of more than fifty +such sights.] + +We possess Baber's 'Memoirs' in the original Turki and in Persian +translations also. In what follows, the extracts will be taken from +Erskine's translation[5], which preserves their direct and manly charm. + +[Footnote 5: 'Memoirs of Baber, Emperor of Hindustan, written by +himself, and translated by Leyden and Erskine,' etc. London, +1826, quarto.] + +To understand them, the foregoing slight introduction is necessary. A +connected sketch of Baber's life and a brief history of his conquests +can be found in 'The Mogul Emperors of Hindustan[6].' We are here more +especially concerned with his literary work. To comprehend it, something +of his history and surroundings must be known. + +[Footnote 6: By Edward S. Holden, New York, 1895, 8vo, illustrated.] + + +FROM BABER'S 'MEMOIRS' + +In the month, of Ramzan, in the year 899 [A. D. 1494], and in the +twelfth year of my age, I became King of Ferghana. + +The country of Ferghana is situated in the fifth climate, on the extreme +boundary of the habitable world. On the east it has Kashgar; on the +west, Samarkand; on the south, the hill country; on the north, in former +times there were cities, yet at the present time, in consequence of the +incursions of the Usbeks, no population remains. Ferghana is a country +of small extent, abounding in grain and fruits. The revenues may +suffice, without oppressing the country, to maintain three or four +thousand troops. + +My father, Omer Sheikh Mirza, was of low stature, had a short, bushy +beard, brownish hair, and was very corpulent. As for his opinions and +habits, he was of the sect of Hanifah, and strict in his belief. He +never neglected the five regular and stated prayers. He read elegantly, +and he was particularly fond of reading the 'Shahnameh[7].' Though he +had a turn for poetry, he did not cultivate it. He was so strictly just, +that when the caravan from [China] had once reached the hill country to +the east of Ardejan, and the snow fell so deep as to bury it, so that +of the whole only two persons escaped; he no sooner received information +of the occurrence than he dispatched overseers to take charge of all the +property, and he placed it under guard and preserved it untouched, till +in the course of one or two years, the heirs coming from Khorasan, he +delivered back the goods safe into their hands. His generosity was +large, and so was his whole soul; he was of an excellent temper, +affable, eloquent, and sweet in his conversation, yet brave withal +and manly. + +[Footnote 7: The 'Book of Kings,' by the Persian poet Firdausi.] + +The early portion of Baber's 'Memoirs' is given to portraits of the +officers of his court and country. A few of these may be quoted. + +Khosrou Shah, though a Turk, applied his attention to the mode of +raising his revenues, and he spent them liberally. At the death of +Sultan Mahmud Mirza, he reached the highest pitch of greatness, and his +retainers rose to the number of twenty thousand. Though he prayed +regularly and abstained from forbidden foods, yet he was black-hearted +and vicious, of mean understanding and slender talents, faithless and a +traitor. For the sake of the short and fleeting pomp of this vain world, +he put out the eyes of one and murdered another of the sons of the +benefactor in whose service he had been, and by whom he had been +protected; rendering himself accursed of God, abhorred of men, and +worthy of execration and shame till the day of final retribution. These +crimes he perpetrated merely to secure the enjoyment of some poor +worldly vanities; yet with all the power of his many and populous +territories, in spite of his magazines of warlike stores, he had not the +spirit to face a barnyard chicken. He will often be mentioned in +these memoirs. + +Ali Shir Beg was celebrated for the elegance of his manners; and this +elegance and polish were ascribed to the conscious pride of high +fortune: but this was not the case; they were natural to him. Indeed, +Ali Shir Beg was an incomparable person. From the time that poetry was +first written in the Turki language, no man has written so much and so +well. He has also left excellent pieces of music; they are excellent +both as to the airs themselves and as to the preludes. There is not upon +record in history any man who was a greater patron and protector of men +of talent than he. He had no son nor daughter, nor wife nor family; he +passed through the world single and unincumbered. + +Another poet was Sheikhem Beg. He composed a sort of verses, in which +both the words and the sense are terrifying and correspond with each +other. The following is one of his couplets:-- + + _During my sorrows of the night, the whirlpool of my sighs bears + the firmament from its place; + The dragons of the inundations of my tears bear down the four + quarters of the habitable world_! + +It is well known that on one occasion, having repeated these verses to +Moulana Abdal Rahman Jami, the Mulla said, "Are you repeating poetry, or +are you terrifying folks?" + +A good many men who wrote verses happened to be present. During the +party the following verse of Muhammed Salikh was repeated:-- + + _What can one do to regulate his thoughts, with a mistress possessed + of every blandishment_? + _Where you are, how is it possible for our thoughts to wander to + another_? + +It was agreed that every one should make an extempore couplet to the +same rhyme and measure. Every one accordingly repeated his verse. As we +had been very merry, I repeated the following extempore +satirical verses:-- + + _What can one do with a drunken sot like you? + What can be done with one foolish as a she-ass?_ + +Before this, whatever had come into my head, good or bad, I had always +committed it to writing. On the present occasion, when I had composed +these lines, my mind led me to reflections, and my heart was struck with +regret that a tongue which could repeat the sublimest productions should +bestow any trouble on such unworthy verses; that it was melancholy that +a heart elevated to nobler conceptions should submit to occupy itself +with these meaner and despicable fancies. From that time forward I +religiously abstained from satirical poetry. I had not then formed my +resolution, nor considered how objectionable the practice was. + +TRANSACTIONS OF THE YEAR 904 [A. D. 1498-99] + +Having failed in repeated expeditions against Samarkand and Ardejan, I +once more returned to Khojend. Khojend is but a small place; and it is +difficult for one to support two hundred retainers in it. How then could +a [young] man, ambitious of empire, set himself down contentedly in so +insignificant a place? As soon as I received advice that the garrison of +Ardejan had declared for me, I made no delay. And thus, by the grace of +the Most High, I recovered my paternal kingdom, of which I had been +deprived nearly two years. An order was issued that such as had +accompanied me in my campaigns might resume possession of whatever part +of their property they recognized. Although the order seemed reasonable +and just in itself, yet it was issued with too much precipitation. It +was a senseless thing to exasperate so many men with arms in their +hands. In war and in affairs of state, though things may appear just and +reasonable at first sight, no matter ought to be finally decided without +being well weighed and considered in a hundred different lights. From my +issuing this single order without sufficient foresight, what commotions +and mutinies arose! This inconsiderate order of mine was in reality the +ultimate cause of my being a second time expelled from Ardejan. + + * * * * * + +Baber's next campaign was most arduous, but in passing by a spring he +had the leisure to have these verses of Saadi inscribed on its brink:-- + + _I have heard that the exalted Jemshid + Inscribed on a stone beside a fountain:-- + "Many a man like us has rested by this fountain, + And disappeared in the twinkling of an eye. + Should we conquer the whole world by our manhood and strength, + Yet could we not carry it with us to the grave."_ + +Of another fountain he says:--"I directed this fountain to be built +round with stone, and formed a cistern. At the time when the _Arghwan_ +flowers begin to blow, I do not know that any place in the world is to +be compared to it." On its sides he engraved these verses:-- + + _Sweet is the return of the new year; + Sweet is the smiling spring; + Sweet is the juice of the mellow grape; + Sweeter far the voice of love. + Strive, O Baber! to secure the joys of life, + Which, alas! once departed, never more return._ + +From these flowers Baber and his army marched into the passes of the +high mountains. + +His narrative goes on:-- + +It was at this time that I composed the following verses:-- + + _There is no violence or injury of fortune that I have not + experienced; + This broken heart has endured them all. Alas! is there one left + that I have not encountered_? + +For about a week we continued pressing down the snow without being able +to advance more than two or three miles. I myself assisted in trampling +down the snow. Every step we sank up to the middle or the breast, but we +still went on, trampling it down. As the strength of the person who went +first was generally exhausted after he had advanced a few paces, he +stood still, while another took his place. The ten, fifteen, or twenty +people who worked in trampling down the snow, next succeeded in dragging +on a horse without a rider. Drawing this horse aside, we brought on +another, and in this way ten, fifteen, or twenty of us contrived to +bring forward the horses of all our number. The rest of the troops, even +our best men, advanced along the road that had been beaten for them, +hanging their heads. This was no time for plaguing them or employing +authority. Every man who possesses spirit or emulation hastens to such +works of himself. Continuing to advance by a track which we beat in the +snow in this manner, we reached a cave at the foot of the Zirrin pass. +That day the storm of wind was dreadful. The snow fell in such +quantities that we all expected to meet death together. The cave seemed +to be small. I took a hoe and made for myself at the mouth of the cave a +resting-place about the size of a prayer-carpet. I dug down in the snow +as deep as my breast, and yet did not reach the ground. This hole +afforded me some shelter from the wind, and I sat down in it. Some +desired me to go into the cavern, but I would not go. I felt that for me +to be in a warm dwelling, while my men were in the, midst of snow and +drift,--for me to be within, enjoying sleep and ease, while my followers +were in trouble and distress,--would be inconsistent with what I owed +them, and a deviation from that society in suffering which was their +due. I continued, therefore, to sit in the drift. + + _Ambition admits not of inaction; + The world is his who exerts himself; + In wisdom's eye, every condition + May find repose save royalty alone._ + +By leadership like this, the descendant of Tamerlane became the ruler of +Kabul. He celebrates its charms in verse:-- + + _Its verdure and flowers render Kabul, in spring, a heaven._-- + +but this kingdom was too small for a man of Baber's stamp. He used it as +a stepping-stone to the conquest of India (1526). + + _Return a hundred thanks, O Baber! for the bounty of the merciful God + Has given you Sind, Hind, and numerous kingdoms; + If, unable to stand the heat, you long for cold, + You have only to recollect the frost and cold of Ghazni._ + +In spite of these verses, Baber did not love India, and his monarchy was +an exile to him. Let the last extract from his memoirs be a part of a +letter written in 1529 to an old and trusted friend in Kabul. It is an +outpouring of the griefs of his inmost heart to his friend. He says:-- + + My solicitude to visit my western dominions (Kabul) is + boundless and great beyond expression. I trust in Almighty + Allah that the time is near at hand when everything will be + completely settled in this country. As soon as matters are + brought to that state, I shall, with the permission of Allah, + set out for your quarters without a moment's delay. How is it + possible that the delights of those lands should ever be + erased from the heart? How is it possible to forget the + delicious melons and grapes of that pleasant region? They + very recently brought me a single muskmelon from Kabul. While + cutting it up, I felt myself affected with a strong feeling + of loneliness and a sense of my exile from my native country, + and I could not help shedding tears. [He gives long + instructions on the military and political matters to be + attended to, and continues without a break:--] At the + southwest of Besteh I formed a plantation of trees; and as + the prospect from it was very fine, I called it Nazergah [the + view]. You must there plant some beautiful trees, and all + around sow beautiful and sweet-smelling flowers and shrubs. + [And he goes straight on:--] Syed Kasim will accompany the + artillery. [After more details of the government he quotes + fondly a little trivial incident of former days and friends, + and says:--] Do not think amiss of me for deviating into + + The 'Memoirs' of Baber deserve a place beside the writings of + the greatest of generals and conquerors. He is not unworthy + to be classed with Caesar as a general and as a man of + letters. His character was more human, more frank, more + lovable, more ardent. His fellow in our western world is not + Caesar, but Henri IV. of France and Navarre. + +[Illustration: Signature: Edward S. Holden] + + + + +BABRIUS + +(First Century A.D.) + + + Babrius, also referred to as Babrias and Gabrias, was the + writer of that metrical version of the folk-fables, commonly + referred to Aesop, which delights our childhood. Until the + time of Richard Bentley he was commonly thought of merely as + a fabulist whose remains had been preserved by a few + grammarians. Bentley, in the first draft (1697) of the part + of his famous 'Dissertation' treating of the fables of Aesop, + speaks thus of Babrius, and goes not far out of his way to + give a rap at Planudes, a late Greek, who turned works of + Ovid, Cato, and Caesar into Greek:-- + + "... came one Babrius, that gave a new turn of the fables + into choliambics. Nobody that I know of mentions him but + Suidas, Avienus, and Tzetzes. There's one Gabrias, indeed, + yet extant, that has comprised each fable in four sorry + iambics. But our Babrius is a writer of another size and + quality; and were his book now extant, it might justly be + opposed, if not preferred, to the Latin of Phaedrus. There's + a whole fable of his yet preserved at the end of Gabrias, of + 'The Swallow and the Nightingale.' Suidas brings many + citations out of him, all which show him an excellent + poet.... There are two parcels of the present fables; the + one, which are the more ancient, one hundred and thirty-six + in number, were first published out of the Heidelberg Library + by Neveletus, 1610. The editor himself well observed that + they were falsely ascribed to Aesop, because they mention + holy monks. To which I will add another remark,--that there + is a sentence out of Job.... Thus I have proved one-half of + the fables now extant that carry the name of Aesop to be + above a thousand years more recent than he. And the other + half, that were public before Neveletus, will be found yet + more modern, and the latest of all.... This collection, + therefore, is more recent than that other; and, coming first + abroad with Aesop's 'Life,' written by Planudes, 'tis justly + believed to be owing to the same writer. That idiot of a monk + has given us a book which he calls 'The Life of Aesop,' that + perhaps cannot be matched in any language for ignorance and + nonsense. He had picked up two or three true stories,--that + Aesop was a slave to a Xanthus, carried a burthen of bread, + conversed with Croesus, and was put to death at Delphi; but + the circumstances of these and all his other tales are pure + invention.... But of all his injuries to Aesop, that which + can least be forgiven him is the making such a monster of him + for ugliness,--an abuse that has found credit so universally + that all the modern painters since the time of Planudes have + drawn him in the worst shapes and features that fancy could + invent. 'Twas an old tradition among the Greeks that Aesop + revived again and lived a second life. Should he revive once + more and see the picture before the book that carries his + name, could he think it drawn for himself?--or for the + monkey, or some strange beast introduced in the 'Fables'? But + what revelation had this monk about Aesop's deformity? For he + must have it by dream or vision, and not by ordinary methods + of knowledge. He lived about two thousand years after him, + and in all that tract of time there's not a single author + that has given the least hint that Aesop was ugly." + +Thus Bentley; but to return to Babrius. Tyrwhitt, in 1776, followed this +calculation of Bentley by collecting the remains of Babrius. A +publication in 1809 of fables from a Florentine manuscript foreran the +collection (1832) of all the fables which could be entirely restored. In +1835 a German scholar, Knoch, published whatever had up to that time +been written on Babrius, or as far as then known by him. So much had +been accomplished by modern scholarship. The calculation was not unlike +the mathematical computation that a star should, from an apparent +disturbance, be in a certain quarter of the heavens at a certain time. +The manuscript of Babrius, it became clear, must have existed. In 1842 +M. Mynas, a Greek, who had already discovered the 'Philosophoumena' of +Hippolytus, came upon the parchment in the convent of St. Lama on Mount +Athos. He was employed by the French government, and the duty of giving +the new ancient to the world fell to French scholars. The date of the +manuscript they referred to the tenth century. There were contained in +it one hundred and twenty-three of the supposed one hundred and sixty +fables, the arrangement being alphabetical and ending with the letter O. +Again, in 1857 M. Mynas announced another discovery. Ninety-four fables +and a prooemium were still in a convent at Mount Athos; but the monks, +who made difficulty about parting with the first parchment, refused to +let the second go abroad. M. Mynas forwarded a transcript which he sold +to the British Museum. It was after examination pronounced to be the +work of a forger, and not even what it purported to be--the tinkering of +a writer who had turned the original of Babrius into barbarous Greek +and halting metre. Suggestions were made that the forger was Mynas +himself. And there were scholars who accounted the manuscript +as genuine. + +The discovery of the first part added substantially to the remains which +we have of the poetry of ancient Greece. The terseness, simplicity, and +humor of the poems belong to the popular classic all the world over, in +whatever tongue it appears; and the purity of the Greek shows that +Babrius lived at a time when the influence of the classical age was +still vital. He is placed at various times. Bergk fixes him so far back +as B.C. 250, while others place him at the same number of years in our +own era. Both French and German criticism has claimed that he was a +Roman. There is no trace of his fables earlier than the Emperor Julian, +and no metrical version of the Aesopean fables existed before the +writing of Babrius. Socrates tried his hand at a version or two. But +when such Greek writers as Xenophon and Aristotle refer to old +folk-tales and legends, it is always in their own words. His fables are +written in choliambic verse; that is, imperfect iambic which has a +spondee in the last foot and is fitted for the satire for which it was +originally used. + +The fables of Babrius have been edited, with an interesting and valuable +introduction, by W.G. Rutherford (1883), and by F.G. Schneidewin (1880). +They have been turned into English metre by James Davies, M.A. (1860). +The reader is also referred to the article 'Aesop' in the present work. + + + THE NORTH WIND AND THE SUN + + Betwixt the North wind and the Sun arose + A contest, which would soonest of his clothes + Strip a wayfaring clown, so runs the tale. + First, Boreas blows an almost Thracian gale, + Thinking, perforce, to steal the man's capote: + He loosed it not; but as the cold wind smote + More sharply, tighter round him drew the folds, + And sheltered by a crag his station holds. + But now the Sun at first peered gently forth, + And thawed the chills of the uncanny North; + Then in their turn his beams more amply plied, + Till sudden heat the clown's endurance tried; + Stripping himself, away his cloak he flung: + The Sun from Boreas thus a triumph wrung. + + The fable means, "My son, at mildness aim: + Persuasion more results than force may claim." + + + JUPITER AND THE MONKEY + + A baby-show with prizes Jove decreed + For all the beasts, and gave the choice due heed. + A monkey-mother came among the rest; + A naked, snub-nosed pug upon her breast + She bore, in mother's fashion. At the sight + Assembled gods were moved to laugh outright. + Said she, "Jove knoweth where his prize will fall! + I know my child's the beauty of them all." + + This fable will a general law attest, + That each one deems that what's his own, is best. + + + THE MOUSE THAT FELL INTO THE POT + + A mouse into a lidless broth-pot fell; + Choked with the grease, and bidding life farewell, + He said, "My fill of meat and drink have I + And all good things: 'Tis time that I should die." + + Thou art that dainty mouse among mankind, + If hurtful sweets are not by thee declined. + + + THE FOX AND THE GRAPES + + There hung some bunches of the purple grape + On a hillside. A cunning fox, agape + For these full clusters, many times essayed + To cull their dark bloom, many vain leaps made. + They were quite ripe, and for the vintage fit; + But when his leaps did not avail a whit, + He journeyed on, and thus his grief composed:-- + "The bunch was sour, not ripe, as I supposed." + + + THE CARTER AND HERCULES + + A carter from the village drove his wain: + And when it fell into a rugged lane, + Inactive stood, nor lent a helping hand; + But to that god, whom of the heavenly band + He really honored most, Alcides, prayed: + "Push at your wheels," the god appearing said, + "And goad your team; but when you pray again, + Help yourself likewise, or you'll pray in vain." + + + THE YOUNG COCKS + + Two Tanagraean cocks a fight began; + Their spirit is, 'tis said, as that of man: + Of these the beaten bird, a mass of blows, + For shame into a corner creeping goes; + The other to the housetop quickly flew, + And there in triumph flapped his wings and crew. + But him an eagle lifted from the roof, + And bore away. His fellow gained a proof + That oft the wages of defeat are best,-- + None else remained the hens to interest. + + WHEREFORE, O man, beware of boastfulness: + Should fortune lift thee, others to depress, + Many are saved by lack of her caress. + + + THE ARAB AND THE CAMEL + + An Arab, having heaped his camel's back, + Asked if he chose to take the upward track + Or downward; and the beast had sense to say + "Am I cut off then from the level way?" + + + THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE SWALLOW + + Far from men's fields the swallow forth had flown, + When she espied amid the woodlands lone + The nightingale, sweet songstress. Her lament + Was Itys to his doom untimely sent. + Each knew the other through the mournful strain, + Flew to embrace, and in sweet talk remain. + Then said the swallow, "Dearest, liv'st thou still? + Ne'er have I seen thee, since thy Thracian ill. + Some cruel fate hath ever come between; + Our virgin lives till now apart have been. + Come to the fields; revisit homes of men; + Come dwell with me, a comrade dear, again, + Where thou shalt charm the swains, no savage brood: + Dwell near men's haunts, and quit the open wood: + One roof, one chamber, sure, can house the two, + Or dost prefer the nightly frozen dew, + And day-god's heat? a wild-wood life and drear? + Come, clever songstress, to the light more near." + To whom the sweet-voiced nightingale replied:-- + "Still on these lonesome ridges let me bide; + Nor seek to part me from the mountain glen:-- + I shun, since Athens, man, and haunts of men; + To mix with them, their dwelling-place to view, + Stirs up old grief, and opens woes anew." + + Some consolation for an evil lot + Lies in wise words, in song, in crowds forgot. + But sore the pang, when, where you once were great, + Again men see you, housed in mean estate. + + + THE HUSBANDMAN AND THE STORK + + Thin nets a farmer o'er his furrows spread, + And caught the cranes that on his tillage fed; + And him a limping stork began to pray, + Who fell with them into the farmer's way:-- + "I am no crane: I don't consume the grain: + That I'm a stork is from my color plain; + A stork, than which no better bird doth live; + I to my father aid and succor give." + The man replied:--"Good stork, I cannot tell + Your way of life: but this I know full well, + I caught you with the spoilers of my seed; + With them, with whom I found you, you must bleed." + + Walk with the bad, and hate will be as strong + 'Gainst you as them, e'en though you no man wrong. + + + THE PINE + + Some woodmen, bent a forest pine to split, + Into each fissure sundry wedges fit, + To keep the void and render work more light. + Out groaned the pine, "Why should I vent my spite + Against the axe which never touched my root, + So much as these cursed wedges, mine own fruit; + Which rend me through, inserted here and there!" + + A fable this, intended to declare + That not so dreadful is a stranger's blow + As wrongs which men receive from those they know. + + + THE WOMAN AND HER MAID-SERVANTS + + A very careful dame, of busy way, + Kept maids at home, and these, ere break of day, + She used to raise as early as cock-crow. + They thought 'twas hard to be awakened so, + And o'er wool-spinning be at work so long; + Hence grew within them all a purpose strong + To kill the house-cock, whom they thought to blame + For all their wrongs. But no advantage came; + Worse treatment than the former them befell: + For when the hour their mistress could not tell + At which by night the cock was wont to crow, + She roused them earlier, to their work to go. + A harder lot the wretched maids endured. + + Bad judgment oft hath such results procured. + + + THE LAMP + + A lamp that swam with oil, began to boast + At eve, that it outshone the starry host, + And gave more light to all. Her boast was heard: + Soon the wind whistled; soon the breezes stirred, + And quenched its light. A man rekindled it, + And said, "Brief is the faint lamp's boasting fit, + But the starlight ne'er needs to be re-lit." + + + THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE + + To the shy hare the tortoise smiling spoke, + When he about her feet began to joke: + "I'll pass thee by, though fleeter than the gale." + "Pooh!" said the hare, "I don't believe thy tale. + Try but one course, and thou my speed shalt know." + "Who'll fix the prize, and whither we shall go?" + Of the fleet-footed hare the tortoise asked. + To whom he answered, "Reynard shall be tasked + With this; that subtle fox, whom thou dost see." + The tortoise then (no hesitater she!) + Kept jogging on, but earliest reached the post; + The hare, relying on his fleetness, lost + Space, during sleep, he thought he could recover + When he awoke. But then the race was over; + The tortoise gained her aim, and slept _her_ sleep. + + From negligence doth care the vantage reap. + + + + +FRANCIS BACON + +(1561-1626) + +BY CHARLTON T. LEWIS + + +The startling contrasts of splendor and humiliation which marked the +life of Bacon, and the seemingly incredible inconsistencies which hasty +observers find in his character, have been the themes of much rhetorical +declamation, and even of serious and learned debate. From Ben Jonson in +his own day, to James Spedding the friend of Tennyson, he has not lacked +eminent eulogists, who look up to him as not only the greatest and +wisest, but as among the noblest and most worthy of mankind: while the +famous epigram of Pope, expanded by Macaulay into a stately and eloquent +essay, has impressed on the popular mind the lowest estimate of his +moral nature; and even such careful scholars as Charles de Remusat and +Dean Church, who have devoted careful and instructive volumes to the +survey of Bacon's career and works, insist that with all his +intellectual supremacy, he was a servile courtier, a false friend, and a +corrupt judge. Yet there are few important names in human history of men +who have left us so complete materials for a just judgment of their +conduct; and it is only a lover of paradox who can read these and still +regard Bacon's character as an unsolved problem. + +Mr. Spedding has given a long life of intelligent labor to the +collection of every fact and document throwing light upon the motives, +aims, and thoughts of the great "Chancellor of Nature," from the cradle +to the grave. The results are before us in the seven volumes of 'The +Letters and the Life of Francis Bacon,' which form perhaps the most +complete biography ever written. It is a book of absolute candor as well +as infinite research, giving with equal distinctness all the evidence +which makes for its hero's dishonor and that which tends to justify the +writer's reverence for him. Another work by Mr. Spedding, 'Evenings with +a Reviewer,' in two volumes, is an elaborate refutation, from the +original and authentic records, of the most damning charges brought by +Lord Macaulay against Bacon's good fame. It is a complete and +overwhelming exposure of false coloring, of rhetorical artifices, and of +the abuse of evidence, in the famous essay. As one of the most +entertaining and instructive pieces of controversy in our literature, it +deserves to be widely read. The unbiased reader cannot accept the +special pleading by which, in his comments, Spedding makes every failing +of Bacon "lean to virtue's side"; but will form upon the unquestioned +facts presented a clear conception of him, will come to know him as no +other man of an age so remote is known, and will find in his many-sided +and magnificent nature a full explanation of the impressions which +partial views of it have made upon his worshipers and his detractors. + +It is only in his maturity, indeed, that we are privileged to enter into +his mind and read his heart. But enough is known of the formative period +of his life to show us the sources of his weaknesses and of his +strength. The child whom high authorities have regarded as endowed with +the mightiest intellect of the human race was born at York House, on the +Strand, in the third year of Elizabeth's reign, January 22d, 1561. He +was the son of the Queen's Lord Keeper of the Seals, Sir Nicholas Bacon, +and his second wife Anne, daughter of Sir Anthony Cook, formerly tutor +of King Edward VI. Mildred, an elder daughter of the same scholar, was +the wife of William Cecil, Lord Burghley, who for the first forty years +of her reign was Elizabeth's chief minister. As a child Bacon was a +favorite at court, and tradition represents him as something of a pet of +the Queen, who called him "my young Lord Keeper." His mother was among +the most learned women of an age when, among women of rank, great +learning was as common and as highly prized as great beauty; and her +influence was a potent intellectual stimulus to the boy, although he +revolted in early youth from the narrow creed which her fierce Puritan +zeal strove to impose on her household. Outside of the nursery, the +atmosphere of his world was that of craft, all directed to one end; for +the Queen was the source of honor, power, and wealth, and advancement in +life meant only a share in the grace distributed through her ministers +and favorites. Apart from the harsh and forbidding religious teachings +of his mother, young Francis had before him neither precept nor example +of an ambition more worthy than that of courting the smiles of power. + +[Illustration: SIR FRANCIS BACON.] + +At the age of twelve he entered Trinity College, Cambridge (April, +1573), and left it before he was fifteen (Christmas, 1575); the +institution meanwhile having been broken up for more than half a year +(August, 1574, to March, 1575) by the plague, so that his intermittent +university career summed up less than fourteen months. There is no +record of his studies, and the names of his teachers are unknown; for +though Bacon in later years called himself a pupil of Whitgift, and his +biographers assumed that the relation was direct and personal, yet that +great master of Trinity had certainly ended his teaching days before +Bacon went to Cambridge, and had entered as Dean of Lincoln on his +splendid ecclesiastical career. University life was very different from +that of our times. The statutes of Cambridge forbade a student, under +penalties, to use in conversation with another any language but +Latin, Greek, or Hebrew, unless in his private apartments and in hours +of leisure. It was a regular custom at Trinity to bring before the +assembled undergraduates every Thursday evening at seven o'clock such +junior students as had been detected in breaches of the rules during the +week, and to flog them. It would be interesting to know in what +languages young Bacon conversed, and what experiences of discipline +befell him; but his subsequent achievements at least suggest that +Cambridge in the sixteenth century may have afforded more efficient +educational influences than our knowledge of its resources and methods +can explain. For it is certain that, at an age when our most promising +youths are beginning serious study, Bacon's mind was already formed, his +habits and modes of research were fixed, the universe of knowledge was +an open field before him. Thenceforth he was no man's pupil, but in +intellectual independence and solitude he rapidly matured into the +supreme scholar of his age. + +After registering as a student of law at Gray's Inn, apparently for the +purpose of a nominal connection with a profession which might aid his +patrons in promoting him at court, Bacon was sent in June, 1576, to +France in the train of the British Ambassador, Sir Amyas Paulet; and for +nearly three years followed the roving embassy around the great cities +of that kingdom. The massacre of St. Bartholomew had taken place four +years before, and the boy's recorded observations on the troubled +society of France and of Europe show remarkable insight into the +character of princes and the sources of political movements. Sir +Nicholas had hitherto directed his son's education and associations with +the purpose of making him an ornament of the court, and had set aside a +fund to provide Francis at the proper time with a handsome estate. But +he died suddenly, February 20th, 1579, without giving legal effect to +this provision, and the sum designed for the young student was divided +equally among the five children, while Francis was excluded from a share +in the rest of the family fortune; and was thus called home to England +to find himself a poor man. + +He made himself a bachelor's home at Gray's Inn, and devoted his +energies to the law, with such success that he was soon recognized as +one of the most promising members of the profession. In 1584 he entered +Parliament for Melcombe Regis in Somersetshire, and two years later sat +for Liverpool. During these years the schism between his inner and his +outer life continued to widen. Drawing his first breath in the +atmosphere of the court, bred in the faith that honor and greatness come +from princes' favor, with a native taste for luxury and magnificence +which was fostered by delicate health, he steadily looked for +advancement through the influence of Burghley and the smiles of the +Queen. But Burghley had no sympathy with speculative thought, and +distrusted him for his confidences concerning his higher studies, while +he probably feared in Bacon a dangerous rival of his own son; so that +with expressions of kind interest, he refrained from giving his nephew +practical aid. Elizabeth, too, suspected that a young man who knew so +many things could not be trusted to know his own business well, and +preferred for important professional work others who were lawyers and +nothing besides. Thus Bacon appeared to the world as a disappointed and +uneasy courtier, struggling to keep up a certain splendor of appearance +and associations under a growing load of debt, and servile to a Queen on +whose caprice his prospects of a career must depend. His unquestioned +power at the bar was exercised only in minor causes; his eloquence and +political dexterity found slow recognition in Parliament, where they +represented only themselves; and the question whether he would ever be a +man of note in the kingdom seemed for twenty-five years to turn upon +what the Crown might do for its humble suitor. + +Meanwhile this laborious advocate and indefatigable courtier, whose +labors at the bar and in attendance upon his great friends were enough +to fill the days of two ordinary men, led his real life in secret, +unknown to the world, and uncomprehended even by the few in whom he had +divined a capacity for great thought, and whom he had selected for his +confidants. From his childhood at the university, where he felt the +emptiness of the Aristotelian logic, the instrument for attaining truth +which traditional learning had consecrated, he had gradually formed the +conception of a more fruitful process. He had become convinced that the +learning of all past ages was but a poor result of the intellectual +capacities and labors which had been employed upon it; that the human +mind had never yet been properly used; that the methods hitherto adopted +in research were but treadmill work, returning upon itself, or at best +could produce but fragmentary and accidental additions to the sum of +knowledge. All nature is crammed with truth, he believed, which it +concerns man to discover; the intellect of man is constructed for its +discovery, and needs but to be purged of errors of every kind, and +directed in the most efficient employment of its faculties, to make sure +that all the secrets of nature will be revealed, and its powers made +tributary to the health, comfort, enjoyment, and progressive improvement +of mankind. + +This stupendous conception, of a revolution which should transform the +world, seems to have taken definite form in Bacon's mind as early as his +twenty-fifth year, when he embodied the outline of it in a Latin +treatise; which he destroyed in later life, unpublished, as immature, +and partly no doubt because he came to recognize in it an unbecoming +arrogance of tone, for its title was 'Temporis Partus Maximus' (The +Greatest Birth of Time.) But six years later he defines these "vast +contemplative ends" in his famous letter to Burghley, asking for +preferment which will enable him to prosecute his grand scheme and to +employ other minds in aid of it. "For I have taken all knowledge to be +my province," he says, "and if I could purge it of two sorts of rovers, +whereof the one with frivolous disputations, confutations, and +verbosities, the other with blind experiments and auricular traditions +and impostures, hath committed so many spoils, I hope I should bring in +industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable +inventions and discoveries: the best state of that province. This, +whether it be curiosity or vain glory, or nature, or (if one take it +favorably) _philanthropia_ is so fixed in my mind as it cannot +be removed." + +This letter reveals the secret of Bacon's life, and all that we know of +him, read in the light of it, forms a consistent and harmonious whole. +He was possessed by his vast scheme, for a reformation of the +intellectual world, and through it, of the world of human experience, as +fully as was ever apostle by his faith. Implicitly believing in his own +ability to accomplish it, at least in its grand outlines, and to leave +at his death the community of mind at work, by the method and for the +purposes which he had defined, with the perfection of all science in +full view, he subordinated every other ambition to this; and in seeking +and enjoying place, power, and wealth, still regarded them mainly as +aids in prosecuting his master purpose, and in introducing it to the +world. With this clearly in mind, it is easy to understand his +subsequent career. Its external details may be read in any of the score +of biographies which writers of all grades of merit and demerit have +devoted to him, and there is no space for them here. For our purpose it +is necessary to refer only to the principal crises in his public life. + +Until the death of Elizabeth, Bacon had no place in the royal service +worthy of his abilities as a lawyer. Many who, even in the narrowest +professional sense, were far inferior to him, were preferred before him. +Yet he obtained a position recognized by all, and second only in legal +learning to his lifelong rival and constant adversary, Sir Edward Coke. +To-day, it is probable that if the two greatest names in the history of +the common law were to be selected by the suffrages of the profession, +the great majority would be cast for Coke and Bacon. As a master of the +intricacies of precedent and an authority upon the detailed formulas of +"the perfection of reason," the former is unrivaled still; but in the +comprehensive grasp of the law as a system for the maintenance of social +order and the protection of individual rights, Bacon rose far above him. +The cherished aim of his professional career was to survey the whole +body of the laws of England, to produce a digest of them which should +result in a harmonious code, to do away with all that was found obsolete +or inconsistent with the principles of the system, and thus to adapt the +living, progressive body of the law to the wants of the growing nation. +This magnificent plan was beyond the power of any one man, had his life +no other task, but he suggested the method and the aim; and while for +six generations after these legal giants passed away, the minute, +accurate, and profound learning of Coke remained the acknowledged chief +storehouse of British traditional jurisprudence, the seventh generation +took up the work of revision and reform, and from the time of Bentham +and Austin the progress of legal science has been toward codification. +The contest between the aggregation of empirical rules and formulated +customs which Coke taught as the common law, and the broad, harmonious +application of scientific reason to the definition and enforcement of +rights, still goes on; but with constant gains on the side of the +reformers, all of whom with one consent confess that no general and +complete reconstruction of legal doctrine as a science is possible, +except upon the lines laid down by Bacon. + +The most memorable case in which Bacon was employed to represent the +Crown during Elizabeth's life was the prosecution of the Earl of Essex +for treason. Essex had been Bacon's friend, patron, and benefactor; and +as long as the earl remained faithful to the Queen and retained her +favor, Bacon served him with ready zeal and splendid efficiency, and +showed himself the wisest and most sincere of counselors. When Essex +rejected his advice, forfeited the Queen's confidence by the follies +from which Bacon had earnestly striven to deter him, and finally plunged +into wanton and reckless rebellion, Bacon, with whom loyalty to his +sovereign had always been the supreme duty, accepted a retainer from the +Crown, and assisted Coke in the prosecution. The crime of Essex was the +greatest of which a subject was capable; it lacked no circumstance of +aggravation; if the most astounding instance of ingratitude and +disloyalty to friendship ever known is to be sought in that age, it will +be found in the conduct of Essex to Bacon's royal mistress. Yet writers +of eloquence have exhausted their rhetorical powers in denouncing +Bacon's faithlessness to his friend. But no impartial reader of the full +story in the documents of the time can doubt that throughout these +events Bacon did his duty and no more, and that in doing it he not +merely made a voluntary sacrifice of his popularity, but a far more +painful sacrifice of his personal feelings. + +In 1603 James I. came to the throne, and in spite of the efforts of his +most trusted ministers to keep Bacon in obscurity, soon discovered in +him a man whom he needed. In 1607 he was made Solicitor-General; in +1613 Attorney-General; in March 1617, on the death of Lord Ellesmere, he +received the seals as Lord Keeper; and in January following was made +Lord Chancellor of England. In July 1618 he was raised to the permanent +peerage as Baron Verulam, and in January 1621 received the title of +Viscount St. Albans. During these three years he was the first subject +in the kingdom in dignity, and ought to have been the first in +influence. His advice to the King, and to the Duke of Buckingham who was +the King's king, was always judicious. In certain cardinal points of +policy, it was of the highest statesmanship; and had it been followed, +the history of the Stuart dynasty would have been different, and the +Crown and the Parliament would have wrought together for the good and +the honor of the nation, at least through a generation to come. But the +upstart Buckingham was supreme. He had studied Bacon's strength and +weakness, had laid him under great obligations, had at the same time +attached him by the strongest tie of friendship to his person, and +impressed upon his consciousness the fact that the fate of Bacon was at +all times in his hands. The new Chancellor had entered on his great +office with a fixed purpose to reform its abuses, to speed and cheapen +justice, to free its administration from every influence of wealth and +power. In the first three months of service he brought up the large +arrears of business, tried every cause, heard every petition, and +acquired a splendid reputation as an upright and diligent judge. But +Buckingham was his evil angel. He was without sense of the sanctity of +the judicial character; and regarded the bench, like every other public +office, as an instrument of his own interests and will. On the other +hand, to Bacon the voice of Buckingham was the voice of the King, and he +had been taught from infancy as the beginning of his political creed +that the king can do no wrong. Buckingham began at once to solicit from +Bacon favors for his friends and dependants, and the Chancellor was weak +enough to listen and to answer him. There is no evidence that in any one +instance the favorite asked for the violation of law or the perversion +of justice; much less that Bacon would or did accede to such a request. +But the Duke demanded for one suitor a speedy hearing, for another a +consideration of facts which might not be in evidence, for a third all +the favor consistent with law; and Bacon reported to him the result, and +how far he had been able to oblige him. This persistent tampering with +the source of justice was a disturbing influence in the Chancellor's +court, and unquestionably lowered the dignity of his attitude and +weakened his judicial conscience. + +Notwithstanding this, when the Lord Chancellor opened the Parliament in +January, 1621, with a speech in praise of his King and in honor of the +nation, he seemed to be at the summit of earthly prosperity. No voice +had been lifted to question his purity and worth. He was the friend of +the King, one of the chief supports of the throne, a champion indeed of +high prerogative, but an orator of power, a writer of fame, whose +advancement to the highest dignities had been welcomed by public +opinion. Four months later he was a convicted criminal, sentenced for +judicial corruption to imprisonment at the King's pleasure, to a fine of +L40,000, and to perpetual incapacity for any public employment. +Vicissitudes of fortune are commonplaces of history. Many a man once +seemingly pinnacled on the top of greatness has "shot from the zenith +like a falling star," and become a proverb of the fickleness of fate. +Some are torn down by the very traits of mind, passion, or temper, which +have raised them: ambition which overleaps itself, rashness which +hazards all on chances it cannot control, vast abilities not great +enough to achieve the impossible. The plunge of Icarus into the sea, the +murder of Caesar, the imprisonment of Coeur de Lion, the abdication of +Napoleon, the apprehension as a criminal of Jefferson Davis, each was a +startling and impressive contrast to the glory which it followed, yet +each was the natural result of causes which lay in the character and +life of the sufferer, and made his story a consistent whole. But the +pathos of Bacon's fall is the sudden moral ruin of a life which had been +built up in honor for sixty years. An intellect of the first rank, which +from boyhood to old age had been steadfast in the pursuit of truth and +in the noblest services to mankind, which in a feeble body had been +sustained in vigor by all the virtues of prudence and self-reverence; a +genial nature, winning the affection and admiration of associates, +hardly paralleled in the industry with which its energies were devoted +to useful work, a soul exceptional among its contemporaries for piety +and philanthropy--this man is represented to us by popular writers as +having habitually sold justice for money, and as having become in office +"the meanest of mankind." + +But this picture, as so often drawn, and as seemingly fixed in the +popular mind, is not only impossible, but is demonstrably false. To +review all the facts which correct it in detail would lead us far beyond +our limits. It must suffice to refer to the great work of Spedding, in +which the entire records of the case are found, and which would long ago +have made the world just to Bacon's fame, but that the author's comment +on his own complete and fair record is itself partial and extravagant. +But the materials for a final judgment are accessible to all in +Spedding's volumes, and a candid reading of them solves the enigma. +Bacon was condemned without a trial, on his own confession, and this +confession was consistent with the tenor of his life. Its substance was +that he had failed to put a stop effectually to the immemorial custom +in his court of receiving presents from suitors, but that he had never +deviated from justice in his decrees. There was no instance in which he +was accused of yielding to the influence of gifts, or passing judgment +for a bribe. No act of his as Chancellor was impeached as illegal, or +reversed as corrupt. Suitors complained that they had sent sums of money +or valuable presents to his court, and had been disappointed in the +result; but no one complained of injustice in a decision. Bacon was a +conspicuous member of the royal party; and when the storm of popular +fury broke in Parliament upon the court, the King and the ministry +abandoned him. He had stood all his life upon the royal favor as the +basis of his strength and hope; and when it was gone from under him, he +sank helplessly, and refused to attempt a defense. But he still in his +humiliation found comfort in the reflection that his ruin would put an +end to "anything that is in the likeness of corruption" among the +judges. And he wrote, in the hour of his deepest distress, that he had +been "the justest Chancellor that hath been in the five changes that +have been since Sir Nicholas Bacon's time." Nor did any man of his time +venture to contradict him, when in later years he summed up his case in +the words, "I was the justest judge that was in England these fifty +years. But it was the justest censure in Parliament that was these two +hundred years." + +No revolution of modern times has been more complete than that which the +last two centuries have silently wrought in the customary morality of +British public life, and in the standards by which it is judged. Under +James I. every office of state was held as the private property of its +occupant. The highest places in the government were conferred only on +condition of large payments to the King. He openly sold the honors and +dignities of which he was the source. "The making of a baron," that is, +the right to sell to some rich plebeian a patent of nobility, was a +common grant to favorites, and was actually bestowed on Bacon, to aid +him in maintaining the state of his office. We have the testimony of +James himself that all the lawyers, of whom the judges of the realm were +made, were "so bred and nursed in corruption that they cannot leave it." +But the line between what the King called corruption and that which he +and all his ministers practiced openly and habitually, as part of the +regular work of government, is dim and hard to define. The mind of the +community had not yet firmly grasped the conception of public office as +a trust for the public good, and the general opinion which stimulates +and sustains the official conscience in holding this trust sacred was +still unformed. The courts of justice were the first branch of the +government to feel the pressure of public opinion, and to respond to +the demand for impersonal and impartial right. But this process had only +begun when Bacon, who had never before served as judge, was called to +preside in Chancery. The Chancellor's office was a gradual development: +originally political and administrative rather than judicial, and with +no salary or reward for hearing causes, save the voluntary presents of +suitors who asked its interference with the ordinary courts, it step by +step became the highest tribunal of the equity which limits and corrects +the routine of law, and still the custom of gifts was unchecked. A +careful study of Bacon's career shows that in this, as every other +branch of thought, his theoretic convictions were in advance of his age; +and in his advice to the King and in his inaugural promises as +Chancellor, he foreshadows all the principles on which the wisest +reformers of the public service now insist. But he failed to apply them +with that heroic self-sacrifice which alone would have availed him, and +the forces of custom and example continually encroached upon his views +of duty. Having through a long life sought advancement and wealth for +the purpose of using leisure and independence to carry out his +beneficent plans on the largest scale, he eagerly accepted the +traditional emoluments of his new position, in the conviction that they +would become in his hands the means of vast good to mankind. It was only +the public exposure which fully awakened him to a sense of the +inconsistency and wrong of his conduct; and then he was himself his +severest judge, and made every reparation in his power, by the most +unreserved confession, by pointing out the danger to society of such +weakness as his own in language to whose effectiveness nothing could be +added, and by devoting the remainder of his life to the noblest work +for humanity. + +During the years of Bacon's splendor as a member of the government and +as spokesman for the throne, his real life as a thinker, inspired by the +loftiest ambition which ever entered the mind of man, that of creating a +new and better civilization, was not interrupted. It was probably in +1603 that he wrote his fragmentary 'Prooemium de Interpretatione +Naturae,' or 'Preface to a Treatise on Interpreting Nature,' which is +the only piece of autobiography he has left us. It was found among his +papers after his death; and its candor, dignity, and enthusiasm of tone +are in harmony with the imaginative grasp and magnificent suggestiveness +of its thought. Commending the original Latin to all who can appreciate +its eloquence, we cite the first sentences of it in English:-- + + "Believing that I was born for the service of mankind, and + regarding the care of the Commonwealth as a kind of common + property which, like the air and water, belongs to everybody, + I set myself to consider in what way mankind might be best + served, and what service I was myself best fitted by nature + to perform. + + "Now, among all the benefits that could be conferred upon + mankind, I found none so great as the discovery of new arts + for the bettering of human life. For I saw that among the + rude people of early times, inventors and discoverers were + reckoned as gods. It was seen that the works of founders of + States, law-givers, tyrant-destroyers, and heroes cover but + narrow spaces and endure but for a time; while the work of + the inventor, though of less pomp, is felt everywhere and + lasts forever. But above all, if a man could, I do not say + devise some invention, however useful, but kindle a light in + nature--a light which, even in rising, should touch and + illuminate the borders of existing knowledge, and spreading + further on should bring to light all that is most + secret--that man, in my view, would be indeed the benefactor + of mankind, the extender of man's empire over nature, the + champion of freedom, the conqueror of fate. + + "For myself, I found that I was fitted for nothing so well as + for the study of Truth: as having a mind nimble and versatile + enough to discern resemblances in things (the main point), + and yet steady enough to distinguish the subtle differences + in them; as being endowed with zeal to seek, patience to + doubt, love of meditation, slowness of assertion, readiness + to reconsider, carefulness to arrange and set in order; and + as being a man that affects not the new nor admires the old, + but hates all imposture. So I thought my nature had a certain + familiarity and kindred with Truth." + +During the next two years he applied himself to the composition of the +treatise on the 'Advancement of Learning,' the greatest of his English +writings, and one which contains the seed-thoughts and outline +principles of all his philosophy. From the time of its publication in +1605 to his fall in 1621, he continued to frame the plan of his 'Great +Instauration' of human knowledge, and to write out chapters, books, +passages, sketches, designed to take their places in it as essential +parts. It was to include six great divisions: first, a general survey of +existing knowledge; second, a guide to the use of the intellect in +research, purging it of sources of error, and furnishing it with the new +instrument of inductive logic by which all the laws of nature might be +ascertained; third, a structure of the phenomena of nature, included in +one hundred and thirty particular branches of natural history, as the +materials for the new logic; fourth, a series of types and models of the +entire mental process of discovering truth, "selecting various and +remarkable instances"; fifth, specimens of the new philosophy, or +anticipations of its results, in fragmentary contributions to the sixth +and crowning division, which was to set forth the new philosophy in its +completeness, comprehending the truths to be discovered by a perfected +instrument of reasoning, in interpreting all the phenomena of the world. +Well aware that the scheme, especially in its concluding part, was far +beyond the power and time of any one man, he yet hoped to be the +architect of the final edifice of science, by drawing its plans and +making them intelligible, leaving their perfect execution to an +intellectual world which could not fail to be moved to its supreme +effort by a comprehension of the work before it. The 'Novum Organum,' +itself but a fragment of the second division of the 'Instauration,' the +key to the use of the intellect in the discovery of truth, was published +in Latin at the height of his splendor as Lord Chancellor, in 1620, and +is his most memorable achievement in philosophy. It contains a multitude +of suggestive thoughts on the whole field of science, but is mainly the +exposition of the fallacies by which the intellect is deceived and +misled, and from which it must be purged in order to attain final truth, +and of the new doctrine of "prerogative instances," or crucial +observations and experiments in the work of discovery. + +In short, Bacon's entire achievement in science is a plan for an +impossible universe of knowledge. As far as he attempted to advance +particular sciences by applying his method to their detailed phenomena, +he wrought with imperfect knowledge of what had been done, and with +cumbrous and usually misdirected efforts to fill the gaps he recognized. +In a few instances, by what seems an almost superhuman instinct for +truth, rather than the laborious process of investigation which he +taught, he anticipated brilliant discoveries of later centuries. For +example, he clearly pointed out the necessity of regarding heat as a +form of motion in the molecules of matter, and thus foreshadowed, +without any conception of the means of proving it, that which, for +investigators of the nineteenth century, has proved the most direct way +to the secrets of nature. But the testimony of the great teachers of +science is unanimous, that Bacon was not a skilled observer of +phenomena, nor a discoverer of scientific inductions; that he +contributed no important new truth, in the sense of an established law, +to any department of knowledge; and that his method of research and +reasoning is not, in its essential features, that which is fruitfully +pursued by them in extending the boundaries of science, nor was his mind +wholly purged of those "idols of the cave," or forms of personal bias, +whose varying forms as hindrances to the "dry light" of sound reason he +was the first to expose. He never appreciated the mathematics as the +basis of physics, but valued their elements mainly as a mental +discipline. Astronomy meant little to him, since he failed to connect it +directly with human well-being and improvement; to the system of +Copernicus, the beginning of our insight into the heavens, he was +hostile, or at least indifferent; and the splendid discoveries +successively made by Tycho Brahe, Galileo, and Kepler, and brought to +his ears while the 'Great Instauration' filled his mind and heart, met +with but a feeble welcome with him, or none. Why is it, then, that +Bacon's is the foremost name in the history of English, and perhaps, as +many insist, of all modern thought? Why is it that "the Baconian +philosophy" is another phrase, in all the languages of Europe, for that +splendid development of the study and knowledge of the visible universe +which since his time has changed the life of mankind? + +A candid answer to these questions will expose an error as wide in the +popular estimate of Bacon's intellectual greatness as that which has +prevailed so generally regarding his character. He is called the +inventor of inductive reasoning, the reformer of logic, the lawgiver of +the world of thought; but he was no one of these. His grasp of the +inductive method was defective; his logic was clumsy and impractical; +his plan for registering all phenomena and selecting and generalizing +from them, making the discovery of truth almost a mechanical process, +was worthless. In short, it is not as a philosopher nor as a man of +science that Bacon has carved his name in the high places of enduring +fame, but rather as a man of letters; as on the whole the greatest +writer of the modern world, outside of the province of imaginative art; +as the Shakespeare of English prose. Does this seem a paradox to the +reader who remembers that Bacon distrusted all modern languages, and +thought to make his 'Advancement of Learning' "live, and be a citizen of +the world," by giving it a Latin form? That his lifelong ambition was to +reconstruct methods of thought, and guide intellect in the way of work +serviceable to comfort and happiness? That the books in which his +English style appears in its perfection, the 'History of Henry VII.,' +the 'Essays,' and the papers on public affairs, were but incidents and +avocations of a life absorbed by a master purpose? + +But what is literature? It is creative mind, addressing itself in worthy +expression to the common receptive mind of mankind. Its note is +universality, as distinguished from all that is technical, limited, and +narrow. Thought whose interest is as broad as humanity, suitably clothed +in the language of real life, and thus fitted for access to the general +intelligence, constitutes true literature, to the exclusion of that +which, by its nature or by its expression, appeals only to a special +class or school. The 'Opus Anglicanum' of Duns Scotus, Newton's +'Principia,' Lavoisier's treatise 'Sur la Combustion,' Kant's 'Kritik +der Reinen Vernunft' (Critique of Pure Reason), each made an epoch in +some vast domain of knowledge or belief; but none of them is literature. +Yet the thoughts they, through a limited and specially trained class of +students, introduced to the world, were gradually taken up into the +common stock of mankind, and found their broad, effective, complete +expression in the literature of after generations. If we apply this +test to Bacon's life work, we shall find sufficient justification for +honoring him above all special workers in narrower fields, as next to +Shakespeare the greatest name in the greatest period of English +literature. + +It was not as an experimenter, investigator, or technical teacher, but +as a thinker and a writer, that he rendered his great service to the +world. This consisted essentially in the contribution of two magnificent +ideas to the common stock of thought: the idea of the utility of +science, as able to subjugate the forces of nature to the use of man; +and the idea of continued and boundless progress in the comfort and +happiness of the individual life, and in the order and dignity of human +society. It has been shown how, from early manhood, he was inspired by +the conception of infinite resources in the material world, for the +discovery and employment of which the human mind is adapted. He never +wearied of pointing out the imperfection and fruitlessness of the +methods of inquiry and of invention hitherto in use, and the splendid +results which could be rapidly attained if a combined and systematic +effort were made to enlarge the boundaries of knowledge. This led him +directly to the conception of an improved and advancing civilization; to +the utterance, in a thousand varied, impressive, and fascinating forms, +of that idea of human progress which is the inspiration, the +characteristic, and the hope of the modern world. Bacon was the first of +men to grasp these ideas in all their comprehensiveness as feasible +purposes, as practical aims; to teach the development of them as the +supreme duty and ambition of his contemporaries, and to look forward +instead of behind him for the Golden Age. Enforcing and applying these +thoughts with a wealth of learning, a keenness of wit, a soundness of +judgment, and a suggestiveness of illustration unequaled by any writer +before him, he became the greatest literary power of modern times to +stimulate minds in every department of life to their noblest efforts and +their worthiest achievements. + +Literature has a twofold aspect: its ideal is pure truth, which is the +noblest thought embodied in perfect beauty of form. It is the union of +science and art, the final wedding in which are merged the knowledge +worthy to be known and the highest imagination presenting it. There is a +school calling itself that of pure art, to which substance is nothing +and form is everything. Its measure of merit is applied to the manner +only; and the meanest of subjects, the most trivial and even the most +degraded of ideas or facts, is welcomed to its high places if clothed in +a satisfying garb. But this school, though arrogant in the other arts of +expression, has not yet been welcomed to the judgment-seat in +literature, where indeed it is passing even now to contempt and +oblivion. Bacon's instinct was for substance. His strongest passion was +for utility. The artistic side of his nature was receptive rather than +creative. Splendid passages in the 'Advancement' and 'De Augmentis' show +his profound appreciation of all the arts of expression, but show +likewise his inability to glorify them above that which they express. In +his mind, language is subordinate to thought, and the painting to the +picture, just as the frame is to the painting or the binding to the +book. He writes always in the grand style. He reminds us of "the large +utterance of the early gods." His sentences are weighted with thought, +as suggestive as Plato, as condensed as Thucydides. Full of wit, keen in +discerning analogies, rich in intellectual ornament, he is yet too +concentrated in his attention to the idea to care for the melody of +language. He decorates with fruits, not with flowers. For metrical +movement, for rhythmic harmony, he has no ear nor sense. Inconceivable +as it is that Shakespeare could have written one aphorism of the 'Novum +Organum,' it would be far more absurd to imagine Bacon writing a line of +the Sonnets. With the loftiest imagination, the liveliest fancy, the +keenest sense of precision and appropriateness in words, he lacks the +special gift of poetic form, the faculty divine which finds new +inspiration in the very limitations of measured language, and whose +natural expression is music alike to the ear and to the mind. His powers +were cramped by the fetters of metre, and his attempts to versify even +rich thought and deep feeling were puerile. But his prose is by far the +weightiest, the most lucid, effective, and pleasing of his day. The poet +Sprat justly says:-- + + "He was a man of strong, clear, and powerful imaginations; + his genius was searching and inimitable; and of this I need + give no other proof than his style itself, which as for the + most part it describes men's minds as well as pictures do + their bodies, so it did his above all men living." + +And Ben Jonson, who knew him well, describes his eloquence in terms +which are confirmed by all we know of his Parliamentary career:-- + + "One, though he be excellent and the chief, is not to be + imitated alone; for no imitator ever grew up to his author: + likeness is always on this side truth. Yet there happened in + my time one noble speaker, who was full of gravity in his + speaking. His language (when he could spare or pass by a + jest) was nobly censorious. No man ever spake more neatly, + more rightly, more weightily, or suffered less emptiness, + less idleness in what he uttered. No member of his speech but + consisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough or + look aside from him without loss. He commanded when he spoke, + and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion. No man + had their affections more in his power. The fear of every man + that heard him was lest he should make an end." + +The speeches of Bacon are almost wholly lost, his philosophy is an +undeciphered heap of fragments, the ambitions of his life lay in ruins +about his dishonored old age; yet his intellect is one of the great +moving and still vital forces of the modern world, and he remains, for +all ages to come, in the literature which is the final storehouse of the +chief treasures of mankind, one of + + "The dead yet sceptered sovereigns who still rule + Our spirits from their urns." + + +OF TRUTH + +From the 'Essays' + +What is Truth? said jesting Pilate; and would not stay for an answer. +Certainly there be that delight in giddiness; and count it a bondage to +fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in acting. And +though the sects of philosophers of that kind be gone, yet there remain +certain discoursing wits, which are of the same veins, though there be +not so much blood in them as was in those of the ancients. But it is not +only the difficulty and labor which men take in finding out of truth, +nor again, that when it is found it imposeth upon men's thoughts, that +doth bring lies in favor: but a natural though corrupt love of the lie +itself. One of the later school of the Grecians examineth the matter, +and is at a stand to think what should be in it, that men should love +lies, where neither they make for pleasure as with poets, nor for +advantage as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I cannot +tell: this same truth is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show +the masks and mummeries and triumphs of the world half so stately and +daintily as candle-lights. Truth may perhaps come to the price of a +pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to the price of a +diamond or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied lights. A mixture of a +lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken +out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, +imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds +of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and +indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves? One of the fathers, in +great severity, called poesy _vinum doemonum,_ because it filleth the +imagination, and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not +the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in and +settleth in it, that doth the hurt; such as we spake of before. But +howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved judgments and +affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the +inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or wooing of it, the +knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of +truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human +nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the +light of the sense; the last was the light of reason; and his Sabbath +work ever since is the illumination of his Spirit.... The poet that +beautified the sect that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet +excellently well:--"It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see +ships tossed upon the sea; a pleasure to stand in the window of a +castle, and to see a battle and the adventures thereof below; but no +pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of Truth" +(a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always clear and +serene). "and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and +tempests, in the vale below:" so always that this prospect be with pity, +and not with swelling or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth, to +have a man's mind move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the +poles of truth. + +To pass from theological and philosophical truth to the truth of civil +business: it will be acknowledged even by those that practice it not, +that clear and round dealing is the honor of man's nature, and that +mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may +make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these winding +and crooked courses are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely +upon the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no vice that doth so +cover a man with shame as to be found false and perfidious; and +therefore Montaigne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason why the +word of the lie should be such a disgrace and such an odious charge. +Saith he, "If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much as +to say that he is brave toward God and a coward toward men." For a lie +faces God, and shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of falsehood and +breach of faith cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it +shall be the last peal to call the judgments of God upon the generations +of men; it being foretold, that when Christ cometh, "he shall not find +faith upon the earth." + + +OF REVENGE + +From the 'Essays' + +Revenge is a kind of wild justice; which the more man's nature runs to, +the more ought law to weed it out. For as for the first wrong, it doth +but offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong putteth the law out of +office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; +but in passing it over, he is superior: for it is a prince's part to +pardon, and Solomon, I am sure, saith, "It is the glory of a man to pass +by an offense." That which is past is gone and irrevocable, and wise men +have enough to do with things present and to come; therefore, they do +but trifle with themselves that labor in past matters. There is no man +doth a wrong for the wrong's sake; but thereby to purchase himself +profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like. Therefore, why should I be +angry with a man for loving himself better than me? And if any man +should do wrong merely out of ill-nature, why yet it is but like the +thorn or brier, which prick and scratch because they can do no other. +The most tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which there is no +law to remedy; but then, let a man take heed the revenge be such as +there is no law to punish, else a man's enemy is still beforehand, and +it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, are desirous the party +should know whence it cometh. This is the more generous; for the delight +seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt as in making the party +repent. But base and crafty cowards are like the arrow that flieth in +the dark. Cosmus, Duke of Florence, had a desperate saying against +perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were unpardonable. +"You shall read," saith he, "that we are commanded to forgive our +enemies; but you never read that we are commanded to forgive our +friends." But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune: "Shall we," +saith he, "take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil +also?" And so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man +that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would +heal and do well. Public revenges are for the most part fortunate: as +that for the death of Caesar; for the death of Pertinax; for the death +of Henry the Third of France; and many more. But in private revenges it +is not so. Nay, rather vindictive persons live the life of witches; who, +as they are mischievous, so end they infortunate. + + +OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION + +From the 'Essays' + +Dissimulation is but a faint kind of policy or wisdom; for it asketh a +strong wit and a strong heart to know when to tell truth, and to do it. +Therefore it is the weaker sort of politicians that are the great +dissemblers. + +Tacitus saith, "Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband and +dissimulation of her son;" attributing arts of policy to Augustus, and +dissimulation to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus encourageth +Vespasian to take arms against Vitellius, he saith, "We rise not against +the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or closeness +of Tiberius." These properties of arts or policy, and dissimulation or +closeness, are indeed habits and faculties several, and to be +distinguished. For if a man have that penetration of judgment as he can +discern what things are to be laid open, and what to be secreted, and +what to be showed at half-lights, and to whom and when, (which indeed +are arts of state and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them,) to +him a habit of dissimulation is a hindrance and a poorness. But if a man +cannot obtain to that judgment, then it is left to him generally to be +close, and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose or vary in +particulars, there it is good to take the safest and wariest way in +general; like the going softly, by one that cannot well see. Certainly +the ablest men that ever were, have had all an openness and frankness of +dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity: but then they were like +horses well managed, for they could tell passing well when to stop or +turn; and at such times when they thought the case indeed required +dissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former +opinion spread abroad of their good faith and clearness of dealing made +them almost invisible. + +There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling of a man's self. The +first, Closeness, Reservation, and Secrecy; when a man leaveth himself +without observation, or without hold to be taken, what he is. The +second, Dissimulation, in the negative; when a man lets fall signs and +arguments, that he is not that he is. And the third, Simulation, in the +affirmative; when a man industriously and expressly feigns and pretends +to be that he is not. + +For the first of these, Secrecy: it is indeed the virtue of a confessor. +And assuredly the secret man heareth many confessions; for who will open +himself to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought secret, it +inviteth discovery, as the more close air sucketh in the more open; and +as in confession the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the ease +of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowledge of many things in +that kind: while men rather discharge their minds than impart their +minds. In few words, mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides (to say +truth), nakedness is uncomely, as well in mind as body; and it addeth no +small reverence to men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether +open. As for talkers and futile persons, they are commonly vain and +credulous withal; for he that talketh what he knoweth, will also talk +what he knoweth not. Therefore set it down, that a habit of secrecy is +both politic and moral. And in this part it is good that a man's face +give his tongue leave to speak; for the discovery of a man's self by the +tracts of his countenance is a great weakness and betraying, by how much +it is many times more marked and believed than a man's words. + +For the second, which is Dissimulation: it followeth many times upon +secrecy by a necessity; so that he that will be secret must be a +dissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning to suffer a man to +keep an indifferent carriage between both, and to be secret, without +swaying the balance on either side. They will so beset a man with +questions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that without an +absurd silence, he must show an inclination one way; or if he do not, +they will gather as much by his silence as by his speech. As for +equivocations, or oraculous speeches, they cannot hold out long. So that +no man can be secret, except he give himself a little scope of +dissimulation; which is, as it were, but the skirts or train of secrecy. + +But for the third degree, which is Simulation and false profession: +that I hold more culpable and less politic, except it be in great and +rare matters. And therefore a general custom of simulation (which is +this last degree) is a vice rising either of a natural falseness or +fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults; which because a +man must needs disguise, it maketh him practice simulation in other +things, lest his hand should be out of use. + +The great advantages of simulation and dissimulation are three. First, +to lay asleep opposition, and to surprise; for where a man's intentions +are published, it is an alarum to call up all that are against them. The +second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair retreat; for if a man +engage himself by a manifest declaration, he must go through or take a +fall. The third is, the better to discover the mind of another; for to +him that opens himself men will hardly show themselves adverse, but will +fair let him go on, and turn their freedom of speech to freedom of +thought. And therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, +"Tell a lie and find a troth;" as if there were no way of discovery but +by simulation. There be also three disadvantages to set it even. The +first, that simulation and dissimulation commonly carry with them a show +of fearfulness; which in any business doth spoil the feathers of round +flying up to the mark. The second, that it puzzleth and perplexeth the +conceits of many that perhaps would otherwise co-operate with him, and +makes a man walk almost alone to his own ends. The third and greatest +is, that it depriveth a man of one of the most principal instruments for +action; which is trust and belief. The best composition and temperature +is, to have openness in fame and opinion; secrecy in habit; +dissimulation in seasonable use; and a power to feign if there be +no remedy. + + +OF TRAVEL + +From the 'Essays' + +Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the elder, a +part of experience. He that traveleth into a country before he hath some +entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to travel. That +young men travel under some tutor or grave servant, I allow well: so +that he be such a one that hath the language, and hath been in the +country before; whereby he may be able to tell them what things are +worthy to be seen in the country where they go, what acquaintances they +are to seek, what exercises or discipline the place yielded. For else +young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange +thing, that in sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but sky +and sea, men should make diaries; but in land travel, wherein so much is +to be observed, for the most part they omit it; as if chance were fitter +to be registered than observation. Let diaries therefore be brought in +use. The things to be seen and observed are, the courts of princes, +specially when they give audience to ambassadors; the courts of justice, +while they sit and hear causes; and so of consistories ecclesiastic; the +churches and monasteries, with the monuments which are therein extant; +the walls and fortifications of cities and towns, and so the havens and +harbors; antiquities and ruins; libraries; colleges, disputations, and +lectures, where any are; shipping and navies; houses and gardens of +state and pleasure, near great cities; armories; arsenals; magazines; +exchanges; burses; warehouses; exercises of horsemanship, fencing, +training of soldiers, and the like; comedies, such whereunto the better +sort of persons do resort; treasuries of jewels and robes; cabinets and +rarities: and, to conclude, whatsoever is memorable in the places where +they go. After all which the tutors or servants ought to make diligent +inquiry. As for triumphs, masks, feasts, weddings, funerals, capital +executions, and such shows, men need not to be put in mind of them: yet +are they not to be neglected. If you will have a young man to put his +travel into a little room, and in short time to gather much, this you +must do. First, as was said, he must have some entrance into the +language before he goeth. Then he must have such a servant or tutor as +knoweth the country, as was likewise said. Let him carry with him also +some card or book, describing the country where he traveleth, which will +be a good key to his inquiry. Let him keep also a diary. Let him not +stay long in one city or town; more or less as the place deserveth, but +not long: nay, when he stayeth in one city or town, let him change his +lodging from one end and part of the town to another; which is a great +adamant of acquaintance. Let him sequester himself from the company of +his countrymen, and diet in such places where there is good company of +the nation where he traveleth. Let him upon his removes from one place +to another, procure recommendation to some person of quality residing +in the place whither he removeth; that he may use his favor in those +things he desireth to see or know. Thus he may abridge his travel with +much profit. + +As for the acquaintance which is to be sought in travel: that which is +most of all profitable, is acquaintance with the secretaries and +employed men of ambassadors; for so in traveling in one country he shall +suck the experience of many. Let him also see and visit eminent persons +in all kinds, which are of great name abroad; that he may be able to +tell how the life agreeth with the fame. For quarrels, they are with +care and discretion to be avoided. They are commonly for mistresses, +healths, place, and words. And let a man beware how he keepeth company +with choleric and quarrelsome persons; for they will engage him into +their own quarrels. When a traveler returneth home, let him not leave +the countries where he hath traveled altogether behind him, but maintain +a correspondence by letters with those of his acquaintance which are of +most worth. And let his travel appear rather in his discourse than in +his apparel or gesture; and in his discourse let him be rather advised +in his answers, than forward to tell stories; and let it appear that he +doth not change his country manners for those of foreign parts; but only +prick in some flowers of that he hath learned abroad into the customs of +his own country. + + +OF FRIENDSHIP + +From the 'Essays' + +It had been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth and +untruth together in few words than in that speech, "Whosoever is +delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god." For it is most +true that a natural and secret hatred and aversion toward society in any +man hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most untrue that it +should have any character at all of the divine nature, except it +proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love and desire +to sequester a man's self for a higher conversation: such as is found to +have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen, as Epimenides +the Candian, Numa the Roman, Empedocles the Sicilian, and Apollonius of +Tyana; and truly and really in divers of the ancient hermits and holy +fathers of the Church. But little do men perceive what solitude is, and +how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company; and faces are but a +gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no +love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little: "Magna civitas, magna +solitudo;" because in a great town friends are scattered, so that there +is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in less +neighborhoods. But we may go further, and affirm most truly that it is a +mere and miserable solitude to want true friends, without which the +world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense also of solitude, +whosoever in the frame of his nature and affections is unfit for +friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity. + +A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and discharge of the +fullness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do +cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the +most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind. +You may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower +of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain: but no receipt +openeth the heart but a true friend; to whom you may impart griefs, +joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the +heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession. + +It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great kings and +monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship whereof we speak; so +great, as they purchase it many times at the hazard of their own safety +and greatness. For princes, in regard of the distance of their fortune +from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, +except (to make themselves capable thereof) they raise some persons to +be as it were companions and almost equals to themselves; which many +times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages give unto such +persons the name of favorites, or privadoes; as if it were matter of +grace or conversation. But the Roman name attaineth the true use and +cause thereof, naming them "participes curarum"; for it is that which +tieth the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been done, not by weak +and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that +ever reigned; who have oftentimes joined to themselves some of their +servants, whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed others +likewise to call them in the same manner, using the word which is +received between private men. + +L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pompey (after surnamed the +Great) to that height that Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's overmatch. +For when he had carried the consulship for a friend of his against the +pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little resent thereat, and began +to speak great, Pompey turned upon him again, and in effect bade him be +quiet; "for that more men adored the sun rising than the sun setting." +With Julius Caesar, Decimus Brutus had obtained that interest, as he set +him down in his testament for heir in remainder after his nephew; and +this was the man that had power with him to draw him forth to his death. +For when Caesar would have discharged the Senate in regard of some ill +presages, and specially a dream of Calpurnia, this man lifted him gently +by the arm out of his chair, telling him he hoped he would not dismiss +the Senate till his wife had dreamt a better dream. And it seemeth his +favor was so great as Antonius, in a letter which is recited verbatim in +one of Cicero's Philippics, calleth him "venefica"--"witch"; as if he +had enchanted Caesar. Augustus raised Agrippa (though of mean birth) to +that height as, when he consulted with Maecenas about the marriage of +his daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty to tell him, "that he must +either marry his daughter to Agrippa or take away his life: there was no +third way, he had made him so great." With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had +ascended to that height as they two were termed and reckoned as a pair +of friends. Tiberius in a letter to him saith, "Haec pro amicitia nostra +non occultavi" [these things, from our friendship, I have not concealed +from you]; and the whole Senate dedicated an altar to Friendship, as to +a goddess, in respect of the great dearness of friendship between them +two. The like, or more, was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus. +For he forced his eldest son to marry the daughter of Plautianus; and +would often maintain Plautianus in doing affronts to his son; and did +write also, in a letter to the Senate, by these words: "I love the man +so well, as I wish he may over-live me." Now, if these princes had been +as a Trajan or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that this had +proceeded of an abundant goodness of nature; but being men so wise, of +such strength and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves, +as all these were, it proveth most plainly that they found their own +felicity (though as great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an +half-piece, except they might have a friend to make it entire: and yet, +which is more, they were princes that had wives, sons, nephews; and yet +all these could not supply the comfort of friendship. + +It is not to be forgotten what Comineus observeth of his first master, +Duke Charles the Hardy; namely, that he would communicate his secrets +with none, and least of all those secrets which troubled him most. +Whereupon he goeth on and saith, that toward his latter time "that +closeness did impair and a little perish his understanding." Surely +Comineus mought have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him, +of his second master Louis the Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his +tormentor. The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true: "Cor ne +edito,"--"Eat not the heart." Certainly, if a man would give it a hard +phrase, those that want friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of +their own hearts. But one thing is most admirable (wherewith I will +conclude this first fruit of friendship), which is, that this +communicating of a man's self to his friend works two contrary effects; +for it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves. For there is no +man that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more; and +no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the +less. So that it is, in truth, of operation upon a man's mind of like +virtue as the alchymists use to attribute to their stone for man's body; +that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit +of nature. But yet without praying in aid of alchymists, there is a +manifest image of this in the ordinary course of nature: for in bodies, +union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action, and on the other +side, weakeneth and dulleth any violent impression; and even so it is +of minds. + +The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sovereign for the +understanding, as the first is for the affections. For friendship maketh +indeed a fair day in the affections, from storm and tempests, but it +maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness and confusion of +thoughts. Neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel, +which a man receiveth from his friend; but before you come to that, +certain it is that whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, +his wits and understanding do clarify and break up in the communicating +and discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he +marshaleth them more orderly; he seeth how they look when they are +turned into words; finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more +by an hour's discourse than by a day's meditation. It was well said by +Themistocles to the King of Persia, "That speech was like cloth of +Arras, opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figure: +whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs." Neither is this second +fruit of friendship, in opening the understanding, restrained only to +such friends as are able to give a man counsel (they indeed are best); +but even without that, a man learneth of himself, and bringeth his own +thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which +itself cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate himself to a statue +or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother. + +Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that other +point which lieth more open, and falleth within vulgar observation; +which is faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith well in one of +his enigmas, "Dry light is ever the best;" and certain it is, that the +light that a man receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and purer +than that which cometh from his own understanding and judgment; which is +ever infused and drenched in his affections and customs. So as there is +as much difference between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a +man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a +flatterer; for there is no such flatterer as is a man's self, and there +is no such remedy against flattery of a man's self as the liberty of a +friend. Counsel is of two sorts: the one concerning manners, the other +concerning business. For the first, the best preservative to keep the +mind in health is the faithful admonition of a friend. The calling of a +man's self to a strict account is a medicine sometimes too piercing and +corrosive; reading good books of morality is a little flat and dead; +observing our faults in others is sometimes improper for our case: but +the best receipt (best I say to work and best to take) is the admonition +of a friend. It is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and +extreme absurdities many (especially of the greater sort) do commit for +want of a friend to tell them of them, to the great damage both of their +fame and fortune: for, as St. James saith, they are as men "that look +sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their own shape and favor." +As for business, a man may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more +than one; or, that a gamester seeth always more than a looker-on; or, +that a man in anger is as wise as he that hath said over the +four-and-twenty letters; or, that a musket may be shot off as well upon +the arm as upon a rest; and such other fond and high imaginations, to +think himself all in all: but when all is done, the help of good counsel +is that which setteth business straight: and if any man think that he +will take counsel, but it shall be by pieces; asking counsel in one +business of one man, and in another business of another man, it is well +(that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he asked none at all); but he +runneth two dangers: one, that he shall not be faithfully counseled; for +it is a rare thing, except it be from a perfect and entire friend, to +have counsel given, but such as shall be bowed and crooked to some ends +which he hath that giveth it: the other, that he shall have counsel +given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good meaning), and mixed partly +of mischief, and partly of remedy; even as if you would call a +physician, that is thought good for the cure of the disease you complain +of, but is unacquainted with your body; and therefore may put you in a +way for a present cure, but overthroweth your health in some other kind, +and so cure the disease and kill the patient: but a friend that is +wholly acquainted with a man's estate will beware, by furthering any +present business, how he dasheth upon the other inconvenience. And +therefore, rest not upon scattered counsels: they will rather distract +and mislead, than settle and direct. + +After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the affections, and +support of the judgment), followeth the last fruit, which is like the +pomegranate, full of many kernels; I mean aid, and bearing a part in all +actions and occasions. Here the best way to represent to life the +manifold use of friendship, is to cast and see how many things there are +which a man cannot do himself: and then it will appear that it was a +sparing speech of the ancients to say, "that a friend is another +himself;" for that a friend is far more than himself. Men have their +time, and die many times in desire of some things which they principally +take to heart; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of a work, or the +like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure that the +care of those things will continue after him; so that a man hath, as it +were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a body, and that body is +confined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices of life are, +as it were, granted to him and his deputy; for he may exercise them by +his friend. How many things are there, which a man cannot, with any face +or comeliness, say or do himself; A man can scarce allege his own +merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man cannot sometimes brook +to supplicate, or beg, and a number of the like: but all these things +are graceful in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. So +again, a man's person hath many proper relations which he cannot put +off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; to his wife but as a +husband; to his enemy but upon terms: whereas a friend may speak as the +case requires, and not as it sorteth with the person: but to enumerate +these things were endless; I have given the rule, where a man cannot +fitly play his own part, if he have not a friend he may quit the stage. + + +DEFECTS OF THE UNIVERSITIES + +From 'The Advancement of Learning' (Book ii.) + +Amongst so many great foundations of colleges in Europe, I find it +strange that they are all dedicated to professions, and none left free +to arts and sciences at large. For if men judge that learning should be +referred to action, they judge well: but in this they fall into the +error described in the ancient fable, in which the other parts of the +body did suppose the stomach had been idle, because it neither performed +the office of motion, as the limbs do, nor of sense, as the head doth; +but yet notwithstanding it is the stomach that digesteth and +distributeth to all the rest. So if any man think philosophy and +universality to be idle studies, he doth not consider that all +professions are from thence served and supplied. And this I take to be a +great cause that hath hindered the progression of learning, because +these fundamental knowledges have been studied but in passage. For if +you will have a tree bear more fruit than it hath used to do, it is not +anything you can do to the boughs, but it is the stirring of the earth +and putting new mold about the roots that must work it. Neither is it to +be forgotten, that this dedicating of foundations and dotations to +professory learning hath not only had a malign aspect and influence upon +the growth of sciences, but hath also been prejudicial to States and +governments. For hence it proceedeth that princes find a solitude in +regard of able men to serve them in causes of estate, because there is +no education collegiate which is free; where such as were so disposed +mought give themselves to histories, modern languages, books of policy +and civil discourse, and other the like enablements unto service +of estate. + +And because founders of colleges do plant, and founders of lectures do +water, it followeth well in order to speak of the defect which is in +public lectures; namely, in the smallness and meanness of the salary or +reward which in most places is assigned unto them; whether they be +lectures of arts, or of professions For it is necessary to the +progression of sciences that readers be of the most able and sufficient +men; as those which are ordained for generating and propagating of +sciences, and not for transitory use. This cannot be, except their +condition and endowment be such as may content the ablest man to +appropriate his whole labor and continue his whole age in that function +and attendance; and therefore must have a proportion answerable to that +mediocrity or competency of advancement, which may be expected from a +profession or the practice of a profession. So as, if you will have +sciences flourish, you must observe David's military law, which was, +"That those which staid with the carriage should have equal part with +those which were in the action"; else will the carriages be ill +attended. So readers in sciences are indeed the guardians of the stores +and provisions of sciences whence men in active courses are furnished, +and therefore ought to have equal entertainment with them; otherwise if +the fathers in sciences be of the weakest sort or be ill maintained, + + "Et patrum invalidi referent jejunia nati:" + +[Weakness of parents will show in feebleness of offspring.] + +Another defect I note, wherein I shall need some alchemist to help me, +who call upon men to sell their books and to build furnaces; quitting +and forsaking Minerva and the Muses as barren virgins, and relying upon +Vulcan. But certain it is, that unto the deep, fruitful, and operative +study of many sciences, specially natural philosophy and physic, books +be not only the instrumentals; wherein also the beneficence of men hath +not been altogether wanting. For we see spheres, globes, astrolabes, +maps, and the like, have been provided as appurtenances to astronomy and +cosmography, as well as books. We see likewise that some places +instituted for physic have annexed the commodity of gardens for simples +of all sorts, and do likewise command the use of dead bodies for +anatomies. But these do respect but a few things. In general, there +will hardly be any main proficience in the disclosing of nature, except +there be some allowance for expenses about experiments; whether they be +experiments appertaining to Vulcanus or Daedalus, furnace or engine, or +any other kind. And therefore, as secretaries and spials of princes and +states bring in bills for intelligence, so you must allow the spials and +intelligencers of nature to bring in their bills; or else you shall be +ill advertised. + +And if Alexander made such a liberal assignation to Aristotle of +treasure for the allowance of hunters, fowlers, fishers, and the like, +that he mought compile an history of nature, much better do they deserve +it that travail in arts of nature. + +Another defect which I note, is an intermission or neglect in those +which are governors in universities of consultation, and in princes or +superior persons of visitation; to enter into account and consideration, +whether the readings, exercises, and other customs appertaining unto +learning, anciently begun and since continued, be well instituted or no; +and thereupon to ground an amendment or reformation in that which shall +be found inconvenient. For it is one of your Majesty's own most wise and +princely maxims, "that in all usages and precedents, the times be +considered wherein they first began; which if they were weak or +ignorant, it derogateth from the authority of the usage, and leaveth it +for suspect." And therefore inasmuch as most of the usages and orders of +the universities were derived from more obscure times, it is the more +requisite they be re-examined. In this kind I will give an instance or +two, for example's sake, of things that are the most obvious and +familiar. The one is a matter, which, though it be ancient and general, +yet I hold to be an error; which is, that scholars in universities come +too soon and too unripe to logic and rhetoric, arts fitter for graduates +than children and novices. For these two, rightly taken, are the gravest +of sciences, being the arts of arts; the one for judgment, the other for +ornament. And they be the rules and directions how to set forth and +dispose matter: and therefore for minds empty and unfraught with matter, +and which have not gathered that which Cicero calleth _sylva_ and +_supellex_, stuff and variety, to begin with those arts (as if one +should learn to weigh or to measure or to paint the wind) doth work but +this effect, that the wisdom of those arts, which is great and +universal, is almost made contemptible, and is degenerate into childish +sophistry and ridiculous affectation. And further, the untimely learning +of them hath drawn on by consequence the superficial and unprofitable +teaching and writing of them, as fitteth indeed to the capacity of +children. Another is a lack I find in the exercises used in the +universities, which do make too great a divorce between invention and +memory. For their speeches are either premeditate, in _verbis +conceptis_, where nothing is left to invention, or merely extemporal, +where little is left to memory; whereas in life and action there is +least use of either of these, but rather of intermixtures of +premeditation and invention, notes and memory. So as the exercise +fitteth not the practice, nor the image the life; and it is ever a true +rule in exercises, that they be framed as near as may be to the life of +practice; for otherwise they do pervert the motions and faculties of the +mind, and not prepare them. The truth whereof is not obscure, when +scholars come to the practices of professions, or other actions of civil +life; which when they set into, this want is soon found by themselves, +and sooner by others. But this part, touching the amendment of the +institutions and orders of universities, I will conclude with the clause +of Caesar's letter to Oppius and Balbus, "Hoc quem admodum fieri possit, +nonnulla mihi in mentem veniunt, et multa reperiri possunt: de iis rebus +rogo vos ut cogitationem suscipiatis." [How this may be done, some ways +come to my mind and many may be devised; I ask you to take these things +into consideration.] + +Another defect which I note ascendeth a little higher than the +precedent. For as the proficience of learning consisteth much in the +orders and institutions of universities in the same States and kingdoms, +so it would be yet more advanced, if there were more intelligence mutual +between the universities of Europe than now there is. We see there be +many orders and foundations, which though they be divided under several +sovereignties and territories, yet they take themselves to have a kind +of contract, fraternity, and correspondence one with the other, insomuch +as they have Provincials and Generals. And surely as nature createth +brotherhood in families, and arts mechanical contract brotherhoods in +communalties, and the anointment of God superinduceth a brotherhood in +kings and bishops; so in like manner there cannot but be a fraternity in +learning and illumination, relating to that paternity which is +attributed to God, who is called the Father of illuminations or lights. + +The last defect which I will note is, that there hath not been, or very +rarely been, any public designation of writers or inquirers concerning +such parts of knowledge as may appear not to have been already +sufficiently labored or undertaken; unto which point it is an inducement +to enter into a view and examination what parts of learning have been +prosecuted, and what omitted. For the opinion of plenty is amongst the +causes of want, and the great quantity of books maketh a show rather of +superfluity than lack; which surcharge nevertheless is not to be +remedied by making no more books, but by making more good books, which, +as the serpent of Moses, mought devour the serpents of the enchanters. + +The removing of all the defects formerly enumerated, except the last, +and of the active part also of the last (which is the designation of +writers), are _opera basilica_ [kings' works]; towards which the +endeavors of a private man may be but as an image in a cross-way, that +may point at the way, but cannot go it. But the inducing part of the +latter (which is the survey of learning) may be set forward by private +travail. Wherefore I will now attempt to make a general and faithful +perambulation of learning, with an inquiry what parts thereof lie fresh +and waste, and not improved and converted by the industry of man; to the +end that such a plot made and recorded to memory, may both minister +light to any public designation, and also serve to excite voluntary +endeavors. Wherein nevertheless my purpose is at this time to note only +omissions and deficiencies, and not to make any redargution of errors or +incomplete prosecutions. For it is one thing to set forth what ground +lieth unmanured, and another thing to correct ill husbandry in that +which is manured. + +In the handling and undertaking of which work I am not ignorant what it +is that I do now move and attempt, nor insensible of mine own weakness +to sustain my purpose. But my hope is, that if my extreme love to +learning carry me too far, I may obtain the excuse of affection; for +that "it is not granted to man to love and to be wise." But I know well +I can use no other liberty of judgment than I must leave to others; and +I, for my part, shall be indifferently glad either to perform myself, or +accept from another, that duty of humanity, "Nam qui erranti comiter +monstrat viam," etc. [To kindly show the wanderer the path.] I do +foresee likewise that of those things which I shall enter and register +as deficiencies and omissions, many will conceive and censure that some +of them are already done and extant; others to be but curiosities, and +things of no great use; and others to be of too great difficulty and +almost impossibility to be compassed and effected. But for the two +first, I refer myself to the particulars For the last, touching +impossibility, I take it those things are to be held possible which may +be done by some person, though not by every one; and which may be done +by many, though not by any one; and which may be done in the succession +of ages, though not within the hour-glass of one man's life; and which +may be done by public designation, though not by private endeavor. But +notwithstanding, if any man will take to himself rather that of Solomon, +"Dicit piger, Leo est in via" [the sluggard says there is a lion in the +path], than that of Virgil, "Possunt quia posse videntur" [they can, +because they think they can], I shall be content that my labors be +esteemed but as the better sort of wishes, for as it asketh some +knowledge to demand a question not impertinent, so it requireth some +sense to make a wish not absurd. + + +TO MY LORD TREASURER BURGHLEY + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +_My Lord:_ + +With as much confidence as mine own honest and faithful devotion unto +your service and your honorable correspondence unto me and my poor +estate can breed in a man, do I commend myself unto your Lordship. I wax +now somewhat ancient; one and thirty years is a great deal of sand in +the hour-glass. My health, I thank God, I find confirmed; and I do not +fear that action shall impair it, because I account my ordinary course +of study and meditation to be more painful than most parts of action +are. I ever bare a mind (in some middle place that I could discharge) to +serve her Majesty; not as a man born under Sol, that loveth honor; nor +under Jupiter, that loveth business (for the contemplative planet +carrieth me away wholly); but as a man born under an excellent +Sovereign, that deserveth the dedication of all men's abilities. +Besides, I do not find in myself so much self-love, but that the greater +parts of my thoughts are to deserve well (if I were able) of my friends, +and namely of your Lordship; who being the Atlas of this commonwealth, +the honor of my house, and the second founder of my poor estate, I am +tied by all duties, both of a good patriot and of an unworthy kinsman, +and of an obliged servant, to employ whatsoever I am to do you service. +Again, the meanness of my estate does somewhat move me; for though I +cannot excuse myself that I am either prodigal or slothful, yet my +health is not to spend, nor my course to get. Lastly, I confess that I +have as vast contemplative ends as I have moderate civil ends: for I +have taken all knowledge to be my province; and if I could purge it of +two sorts of rovers, whereof the one with frivolous disputations, +confutations, and verbosities, the other with blind experiments and +auricular traditions and impostures, hath committed so many spoils, I +hope I should bring in industrious observations, grounded conclusions, +and profitable inventions and discoveries; the best state of that +province. This, whether it be curiosity, or vain glory, or nature, or +(if one take it favorably) _philanthropia_, is so fixed in my mind as it +cannot be removed. And I do easily see, that place of any reasonable +countenance doth bring commandment of more wits than of a man's own; +which is the thing I greatly affect. And for your Lordship, perhaps you +shall not find more strength and less encounter in any other. And if +your Lordship shall find now, or at any time, that I do seek or affect +any place whereunto any that is nearer unto your Lordship shall be +concurrent, say then that I am a most dishonest man. And if your +Lordship will not carry me on, I will not do as Anaxagoras did, who +reduced himself with contemplation unto voluntary poverty: but this I +will do; I will sell the inheritance that I have, and purchase some +lease of quick revenue, or some office of gain that shall be executed by +deputy, and so give over all care of service, and become some sorry +book-maker, or a true pioneer in that mine of truth, which (he said) lay +so deep. This which I have writ unto your Lordship is rather thoughts +than words, being set down without all art, disguising, or reservation. +Wherein I have done honor both to your Lordship's wisdom, in judging +that that will be best believed of your Lordship which is truest, and to +your Lordship's good nature, in retaining nothing from you. And even so +I wish your Lordship all happiness, and to myself means and occasion to +be added to my faithful desire to do you service. From my lodging at +Gray's Inn. + + +IN PRAISE OF KNOWLEDGE + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +Silence were the best celebration of that which I mean to commend; for +who would not use silence, where silence is not made, and what crier can +make silence in such a noise and tumult of vain and popular opinions? + +My praise shall be dedicated to the mind itself. The mind is the man and +the knowledge of the mind. A man is but what he knoweth. The mind itself +is but an accident to knowledge; for knowledge is a double of that which +is; the truth of being and the truth of knowing is all one. + +Are not the pleasures of the affections greater than the pleasures of +the senses? And are not the pleasures of the intellect greater than the +pleasures of the affections? Is not knowledge a true and only natural +pleasure, whereof there is no satiety? Is it not knowledge that doth +alone clear the mind of all perturbation? How many things are there +which we imagine not? How many things do we esteem and value otherwise +than they are! This ill-proportioned estimation, these vain +imaginations, these be the clouds of error that turn into the storms of +perturbation. Is there any such happiness as for a man's mind to be +raised above the confusion of things, where he may have the prospect of +the order of nature and the error of men? + +But is this a vein only of delight, and not of discovery? of +contentment, and not of benefit? Shall he not as well discern the riches +of nature's warehouse, as the benefit of her shop? Is truth ever barren? +Shall he not be able thereby to produce worthy effects, and to endow the +life of man with infinite commodities? + +But shall I make this garland to be put upon a wrong head? Would anybody +believe me, if I should verify this upon the knowledge that is now in +use? Are we the richer by one poor invention, by reason of all the +learning that hath been these many hundred years? The industry of +artificers maketh some small improvement of things invented; and chance +sometimes in experimenting maketh us to stumble upon somewhat which is +new; but all the disputation of the learned never brought to light one +effect of nature before unknown. When things are known and found out, +then they can descant upon them, they can knit them into certain +causes, they can reduce them to their principles. If any instance of +experience stand against them, they can range it in order by some +distinctions. But all this is but a web of the wit, it can work nothing. +I do not doubt but that common notions, which we call reason, and the +knitting of them together, which we call logic, are the art of reason +and studies. But they rather cast obscurity than gain light to the +contemplation of nature. All the philosophy of nature which is now +received, is either the philosophy of the Grecians, or that other of the +Alchemists. That of the Grecians hath the foundations in words, in +ostentation, in confutation, in sects, in schools, in disputations. The +Grecians were (as one of themselves saith), "you Grecians, ever +children." They knew little antiquity; they knew (except fables) not +much above five hundred years before themselves; they knew but a small +portion of the world. That of the Alchemists hath the foundation in +imposture, in auricular traditions and obscurity; it was catching hold +of religion, but the principle of it is, "Populus vult decipi." So that +I know no great difference between these great philosophies, but that +the one is a loud-crying folly, and the other is a whispering folly. The +one is gathered out of a few vulgar observations, and the other out of a +few experiments of a furnace. The one never faileth to multiply words, +and the other ever faileth to multiply gold. Who would not smile at +Aristotle, when he admireth the eternity and invariableness of the +heavens, as there were not the like in the bowels of the earth? Those be +the confines and borders of these two kingdoms, where the continual +alteration and incursion are. The superficies and upper parts of the +earth are full of varieties. The superficies and lower part of the +heavens (which we call the middle region of the air) is full of variety. +There is much spirit in the one part that cannot be brought into mass. +There is much massy body in the other place that cannot be refined to +spirit. The common air is as the waste ground between the borders. Who +would not smile at the astronomers? I mean not these new carmen which +drive the earth about, but the ancient astronomers, which feign the moon +to be the swiftest of all planets in motion, and the rest in order, the +higher the slower; and so are compelled to imagine a double motion; +whereas how evident is it, that that which they call a contrary motion +is but an abatement of motion. The fixed stars overgo Saturn, and so in +them and the rest all is but one motion, and the nearer the earth the +slower; a motion also whereof air and water do participate, though much +interrupted. + +But why do I in a conference of pleasure enter into these great matters, +in sort that pretending to know much, I should forget what is +seasonable? Pardon me, it was because all [other] things may be endowed +and adorned with speeches, but knowledge itself is more beautiful than +any apparel of words that can be put upon it. + +And let not me seem arrogant, without respect to these great reputed +authors. Let me so give every man his due, as I give Time his due, which +is to discover truth. Many of these men had greater wits, far above mine +own, and so are many in the universities of Europe at this day. But +alas, they learn nothing there but to believe: first to believe that +others know that which they know not; and after [that] themselves know +that which they know not. But indeed facility to believe, impatience to +doubt, temerity to answer, glory to know, doubt to contradict, end to +gain, sloth to search, seeking things in words, resting in part of +nature; these, and the like, have been the things which have forbidden +the happy match between the mind of man and the nature of things, and in +place thereof have married it to vain notions and blind experiments. And +what the posterity and issue of so honorable a match may be, it is not +hard to consider. Printing, a gross invention; artillery, a thing that +lay not far out of the way; the needle, a thing partly known before; +what a change have these three made in the world in these times; the one +in state of learning, the other in state of the war, the third in the +state of treasure, commodities, and navigation. And those, I say, were +but stumbled upon and lighted upon by chance. Therefore, no doubt the +sovereignty of man lieth hid in knowledge; wherein many things are +reserved, which kings with their treasure cannot buy, nor with their +force command; their spials and intelligencers can give no news of them, +their seamen and discoverers cannot sail where they grow. Now we govern +nature in opinions, but we are thrall unto her in necessity; but if we +would be led by her in invention, we should command her in action. + + +TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR, TOUCHING THE HISTORY OF BRITAIN + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +_It may please your good Lordship:_ + +Some late act of his Majesty, referred to some former speech which I +have heard from your Lordship, bred in me a great desire, and by +strength of desire a boldness to make an humble proposition to your +Lordship, such as in me can be no better than a wish: but if your +Lordship should apprehend it, may take some good and worthy effect. The +act I speak of, is the order given by his Majesty, as I understand, for +the erection of a tomb or monument for our late sovereign Lady Queen +Elizabeth: wherein I may note much, but this at this time; that as her +Majesty did always right to his Highness's hopes, so his Majesty doth in +all things right to her memory; a very just and princely retribution. +But from this occasion, by a very easy ascent, I passed furder, being +put in mind, by this Representative of her person, of the more true and +more firm Representative, which is of her life and government. For as +Statuaes and Pictures are dumb histories, so histories are speaking +Pictures. Wherein if my affection be not too great, or my reading too +small, I am of this opinion, that if Plutarch were alive to write lives +by parallels, it would trouble him for virtue and fortune both to find +for her a parallel amongst women. And though she was of the passive sex, +yet her government was so active, as, in my simple opinion, it made more +impression upon the several states of Europe, than it received from +thence. But I confess unto your Lordship I could not stay here, but went +a little furder into the consideration of the times which have passed +since King Henry the 8th; wherein I find the strangest variety that in +like number of successions of any hereditary monarchy hath ever been +known. The reign of a child; the offer of an usurpation (though it were +but as a Diary Ague); the reign of a lady married to a foreign Prince; +and the reign of a lady solitary and unmarried. So that as it cometh to +pass in massive bodies, that they have certain trepidations and +waverings before they fix and settle; so it seemeth that by the +providence of God this monarchy, before it was to settle in his Majesty +and his generations (in which I hope it is now established for ever), it +had these prelusive changes in these barren princes. Neither could I +contain myself here (as it is easier to produce than to stay a wish), +but calling to remembrance the unworthiness of the history of England +(in the main continuance thereof), and the partiality and obliquity of +that of Scotland, in the latest and largest author that I have seen: I +conceived it would be honor for his Majesty, and a work very memorable, +if this island of Great Britain, as it is now joined in Monarchy for the +ages to come, so were joined in History for the times past; and that one +just and complete History were compiled of both nations. And if any man +think it may refresh the memory of former discords, he may satisfy +himself with the verse, "olim haec meminisse juvabit:" for the case +being now altered, it is matter of comfort and gratulation to remember +former troubles. + +Thus much, if it may please your Lordship, was in the optative mood. It +is true that I did look a little in the potential; wherein the hope +which I conceived was grounded upon three observations. The first, of +the times, which do flourish in learning, both of art and language; +which giveth hope not only that it may be done, but that it may be well +done. For when good things are undertaken in ill times, it turneth but +to loss; as in this very particular we have a fresh example of Polydore +Vergile, who being designed to write the English History by K. Henry the +8th (a strange choice to chuse a stranger), and for his better +instruction having obtained into his hands many registers and memorials +out of the monasteries, did indeed deface and suppress better things +than those he did collect and reduce. Secondly, I do see that which all +the world seeth in his Majesty, both a wonderful judgment in learning +and a singular affection towards learning, and the works of true honor +which are of the mind and not of the hand. For there cannot be the like +honor sought in the building of galleries, or the planting of elms along +highways, and the like manufactures, things rather of magnificence than +of magnanimity, as there is in the uniting of states, pacifying of +controversies, nourishing and augmenting of learning and arts, and the +particular actions appertaining unto these; of which kind Cicero judged +truly, when he said to Caesar, "Quantum operibus tuis detrahet vetustas, +tantum addet laudibus." And lastly, I called to mind, that your Lordship +at sometimes hath been pleased to express unto me a great desire, that +something of this nature should be performed; answerably indeed to your +other noble and worthy courses and actions, wherein your Lordship +sheweth yourself not only an excellent Chancellor and Counselor, but +also an exceeding favorer and fosterer of all good learning and virtue, +both in men and matters, persons and actions: joining and adding unto +the great services towards his Majesty, which have, in small compass of +time, been accumulated upon your Lordship, many other deservings both of +the Church and Commonwealth and particulars; so as the opinion of so +great and wise a man doth seem unto me a good warrant both of the +possibility and worth of this matter. But all this while I assure +myself, I cannot be mistaken by your Lordship, as if I sought an office +or employment for myself. For no man knoweth better than your Lordship, +that (if there were in me any faculty thereunto, as I am most unable), +yet neither my fortune nor profession would permit it. But because there +be so many good painters both for hand and colors, it needeth but +encouragement and instructions to give life and light unto it. + +So in all humbleness I conclude my presenting to your good Lordship this +wish: that if it perish it is but a loss of that which is not. And thus +craving pardon that I have taken so much time from your Lordship, I +always remain + + Your Lps. very humbly and much bounden + +FR. BACON. + +GRAY'S INN, this 2d of April, 1605. + + +TO VILLIERS ON HIS PATENT AS VISCOUNT + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +_Sir_: + +I have sent you now your patent of creation of Lord Blechly of Blechly, +and of Viscount Villiers. Blechly is your own, and I like the sound of +the name better than Whaddon; but the name will be hid, for you will be +called Viscount Villiers. I have put them both in a patent, after the +manner of the patents of Earls where baronies are joined; but the chief +reason was, because I would avoid double prefaces which had not been +fit; nevertheless the ceremony of robing and otherwise must be double. + +And now, because I am in the country, I will send you some of my country +fruits; which with me are good meditations; which when I am in the city +are choked with business. + +After that the King shall have watered your new dignities with his +bounty of the lands which he intends you, and that some other things +concerning your means which are now likewise in intention shall be +settled upon you; I do not see but you may think your private fortunes +established; and, therefore, it is now time that you should refer your +actions chiefly to the good of your sovereign and your country. It is +the life of an ox or beast always to eat, and never to exercise; but men +are born (and especially Christian men), not to cram in their fortunes, +but to exercise their virtues; and yet the other hath been the unworthy, +and (thanks be to God) sometimes the unlucky humor of great persons in +our times. Neither will your further fortune be the further off: for +assure yourself that fortune is of a woman's nature, that will sooner +follow you by slighting than by too much wooing. And in this dedication +of yourself to the public, I recommend unto you principally that which I +think was never done since I was born; and which not done hath bred +almost a wilderness and solitude in the King's service; which is, that +you countenance, and encourage, and advance able men and virtuous men, +and meriting men in all kinds, degrees, and professions. For in the time +of the Cecils, the father and the son, able men were by design and of +purpose suppressed; and though of late choice goeth better both in +church and commonwealth, yet money, and turn-serving, and cunning +canvasses, and importunity prevail too much. And in places of moment +rather make able and honest men yours, than advance those that are +otherwise because they are yours. As for cunning and corrupt men, you +must (I know) sometimes use them; but keep them at a distance; and let +it appear that you make use of them, rather than that they lead you. +Above all, depend wholly (next to God) upon the King; and be ruled (as +hitherto you have been) by his instructions; for that is best for +yourself. For the King's care and thoughts concerning you are according +to the thoughts of a great King; whereas your thoughts concerning +yourself are and ought to be according to the thoughts of a modest man. +But let me not weary you. The sum is that you think goodness the best +part of greatness; and that you remember whence your rising comes, and +make return accordingly. + +God ever keep you. + +GORHAMBURY, August 12th, 1616 + + +CHARGE TO JUSTICE HUTTON + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +_Mr. Serjeant Hutton_: + +The King's most excellent Majesty, being duly informed of your learning, +integrity, discretion, experience, means, and reputation in your +country, hath thought fit not to leave you these talents to be employed +upon yourself only, but to call you to serve himself and his people, in +the place of one of his Justices of the court of common pleas. + +The court where you are to serve, is the local centre and heart of the +laws of this realm. Here the subject hath his assurance by fines and +recoveries. Here he hath his fixed and invariable remedies by +_praecipes_ and writs of right. Here Justice opens not by a by-gate of +privilege, but by the great gate of the King's original writs out of the +Chancery. Here issues process of outlawry; if men will not answer law in +this centre of law, they shall be cast out of the circle of law. And +therefore it is proper for you by all means with your wisdom and +fortitude to maintain the laws of the realm. Wherein, nevertheless, I +would not have you head-strong, but heart-strong; and to weigh and +remember with yourself, that the twelve Judges of the realm are as the +twelve lions under Solomon's throne; they must be lions, but yet lions, +under the throne; they must shew their stoutness in elevating and +bearing up the throne. + + To represent unto you the lines and portraitures of a good + judge:--The first is, That you should draw your learning out + of your books, not out of your brain. + + 2. That you should mix well the freedom of your own opinion + with the reverence of the opinion of your fellows. + + 3. That you should continue the studying of your books, and + not to spend on upon the old stock. + + 4. That you should fear no man's face, and yet not turn + stoutness into bravery. + + 5. That you should be truly impartial, and not so as men may + see affection through fine carriage. + + 6. That you be a light to jurors to open their eyes, but not + a guide to lead them by the noses. + + 7. That you affect not the opinion of pregnancy and + expedition by an impatient and catching hearing of the + counselors at the bar. + + 8. That your speech be with gravity, as one of the sages of + the law; and not talkative, nor with impertinent flying out + to show learning. + + 9. That your hands, and the hands of your hands (I mean those + about you), be clean, and uncorrupt from gifts, from meddling + in titles, and from serving of turns, be they of great ones + or small ones. + + 10. That you contain the jurisdiction of the court within the + ancient merestones, without removing the mark. + + 11. Lastly, That you carry such a hand over your ministers + and clerks, as that they may rather be in awe of you, than + presume upon you. + +These and the like points of the duty of a Judge, I forbear to enlarge; +for the longer I have lived with you, the shorter shall my speech be to +you; knowing that you come so furnished and prepared with these good +virtues, as whatsoever I shall say cannot be new unto you. And therefore +I will say no more unto you at this time, but deliver you your patent. + + +A PRAYER, OR PSALM + +From 'Letters and Life,' by James Spedding + +Most gracious Lord God, my merciful Father, from my youth up, my +Creator, my Redeemer, my Comforter. Thou (O Lord) soundest and searchest +the depths and secrets of all hearts; thou knowledgest the upright of +heart, thou judgest the hypocrite, thou ponderest men's thoughts and +doings as in a balance, thou measurest their intentions as with a line, +vanity and crooked ways cannot be hid from thee. + +Remember (O Lord) how thy servant hath walked before thee: remember what +I have first sought, and what hath been principal in mine intentions. I +have loved thy assemblies, I have mourned for the divisions of thy +Church, I have delighted in the brightness of thy sanctuary. This vine +which thy right hand hath planted in this nation, I have ever prayed +unto thee that it might have the first and the latter rain; and that it +might stretch her branches to the seas and to the floods. The state and +bread of the poor and oppressed have been precious in mine eyes: I have +hated all cruelty and hardness of heart: I have (though in a despised +weed) procured the good of all men. If any have been mine enemies, I +thought not of them; neither hath the sun almost set upon my +displeasure; but I have been as a dove, free from superfluity of +maliciousness. Thy creatures have been my books, but thy Scriptures much +more. I have sought thee in the courts, fields, and gardens, but I have +found thee in thy temples. + +Thousands have been my sins, and ten thousand my transgressions; but thy +sanctifications have remained with me, and my heart, through thy grace, +hath been an unquenched coal upon thy altar. O Lord, my strength, I have +since my youth met with thee in all my ways, by thy fatherly +compassions, by thy comfortable chastisements, and by thy most visible +providence. As thy favors have increased upon me, so have thy +corrections; so as thou hast been alway near me, O Lord; and ever as my +worldly blessings were exalted, so secret darts from thee have pierced +me; and when I have ascended before men, I have descended in humiliation +before thee. + +And now when I thought most of peace and honor, thy hand is heavy upon +me, and hath humbled me, according to thy former loving-kindness, +keeping me still in thy fatherly school, not as a bastard, but as a +child. Just are thy judgments upon me for my sins, which are more in +number than the sands of the sea, but have no proportion to thy mercies; +for what are the sands of the sea, to the sea, earth, heavens? and all +these are nothing to thy mercies. + +Besides my innumerable sins, I confess before thee, that I am debtor to +thee for the gracious talent of thy gifts and graces which I have +neither put into a napkin, nor put it (as I ought) to exchangers, where +it might have made best profit; but mis-spent it in things for which I +was least fit; so as I may truly say, my soul hath been a stranger in +the course of my pilgrimage. Be merciful into me (O Lord) for my +Saviour's sake, and receive me unto thy bosom, or guide me in thy ways. + + +FROM THE 'APOPHTHEGMS' + +My Lo. of Essex, at the succor of Rhoan, made twenty-four knights, which +at that time was a great matter. Divers (7.) of those gentlemen were of +weak and small means; which when Queen Elizabeth heard, she said, "My +Lo. mought have done well to have built his alms-house before he made +his knights." + +21. Many men, especially such as affect gravity, have a manner after +other men's speech to shake their heads. Sir Lionel Cranfield would say, +"That it was as men shake a bottle, to see if there was any wit in their +head or no." + +33. Bias was sailing, and there fell out a great tempest, and the +mariners, that were wicked and dissolute fellows, called upon the gods; +but Bias said to them, "Peace, let them not know ye are here." + +42. There was a Bishop that was somewhat a delicate person, and bathed +twice a day. A friend of his said to him, "My lord, why do you bathe +twice a day?" The Bishop answered, "Because I cannot conveniently +bathe thrice." + +55. Queen Elizabeth was wont to say of her instructions to great +officers, "That they were like to garments, strait at the first putting +on, but did by and by wear loose enough." + +64. Sir Henry Wotton used to say, "That critics are like brushers of +noblemen's clothes." + +66. Mr. Savill was asked by my lord of Essex his opinion touching poets; +who answered my lord, "He thought them the best writers, next to those +that write prose." + +85. One was saying, "That his great-grandfather and grandfather and +father died at sea." Said another that heard him, "And I were as you, I +would never come at sea." "Why, (saith he) where did your +great-grandfather and grandfather and father die?" He answered, "Where +but in their beds." Saith the other, "And I were as you, I would never +come in bed." + +97. Alonso of Arragon was wont to say, in commendation of age, That age +appeared to be best in four things: "Old wood best to burn; old wine to +drink; old friends to trust; and old authors to read." + +119. One of the fathers saith, "That there is but this difference +between the death of old men and young men: that old men go to death, +and death comes to young men." + + + TRANSLATION OF THE 137TH PSALM + + From 'Works,' Vol. xiv. + + Whenas we sat all sad and desolate, + By Babylon upon the river's side, + Eased from the tasks which in our captive state + We were enforced daily to abide, + Our harps we had brought with us to the field, + Some solace to our heavy souls to yield. + + But soon we found we failed of our account, + For when our minds some freedom did obtain, + Straightways the memory of Sion Mount + Did cause afresh our wounds to bleed again; + So that with present gifts, and future fears, + Our eyes burst forth into a stream of tears. + + As for our harps, since sorrow struck them dumb, + We hanged them on the willow-trees were near; + Yet did our cruel masters to us come, + Asking of us some Hebrew songs to hear: + Taunting us rather in our misery, + Than much delighting in our melody. + + Alas (said we) who can once force or frame + His grieved and oppressed heart to sing + The praises of Jehovah's glorious name, + In banishment, under a foreign king? + In Sion is his seat and dwelling-place, + Thence doth he shew the brightness of his face. + + Hierusalem, where God his throne hath set, + Shall any hour absent thee from my mind? + Then let my right hand quite her skill forget, + Then let my voice and words no passage find; + Nay, if I do not thee prefer in all + That in the compass of my thoughts can fall. + + Remember thou, O Lord, the cruel cry + Of Edom's children, which did ring and sound, + Inciting the Chaldean's cruelty, + "Down with it, down with it, even unto the ground." + In that good day repay it unto them, + When thou shalt visit thy Hierusalem. + + And thou, O Babylon, shalt have thy turn + By just revenge, and happy shall he be, + That thy proud walls and towers shall waste and burn, + And as thou didst by us, so do by thee. + Yea, happy he that takes thy children's bones, + And dasheth them against the pavement stones. + + + THE WORLD'S A BUBBLE + + From 'Works,' Vol. xiv. + + The world's a bubble, and the life of man + less than a span; + In his conception wretched, from the womb + so to the tomb: + Curst from the cradle, and brought up to years + with cares and fears. + Who then to frail mortality shall trust, + But limns the water, or but writes in dust. + + Yet since with sorrow here we live opprest, + what life is best? + Courts are but only superficial schools + to dandle fools. + The rural parts are turned into a den + of savage men. + And where's the city from all vice so free, + But may be termed the worst of all the three? + + Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, + or pains his head. + Those that live single take it for a curse, + or do things worse. + Some would have children; those that have them moan, + or wish them gone. + What is it then to have or have no wife, + But single thraldom, or a double strife? + + Our own affections still at home to please + is a disease: + To cross the seas to any foreign soil + perils and toil. + Wars with their noise affright us: when they cease, + we are worse in peace. + What then remains, but that we still should cry + Not to be born, or being born to die. + + + + +WALTER BAGEHOT + +(1826-1877) + +BY FORREST MORGAN + + +Walter Bagehot was born February 3d, 1826, at Langport, Somersetshire, +England; and died there March 24th, 1877. He sprang on both sides from, +and was reared in, a nest of wealthy bankers and ardent Liberals, +steeped in political history and with London country houses where +leaders of thought and politics resorted; and his mother's +brother-in-law was Dr. Prichard the ethnologist. This heredity, +progressive by disposition and conservative by trade, and this +entourage, produced naturally enough a mind at once rapid of insight and +cautious of judgment, devoted almost equally to business action and +intellectual speculation, and on its speculative side turned toward the +fields of political history and sociology. + +[Illustration: WALTER BAGEHOT] + +But there were equally important elements not traceable. His freshness +of mental vision, the strikingly novel points of view from which he +looked at every subject, was marvelous even in a century so fertile of +varied independences: he complained that "the most galling of yokes is +the tyranny of your next-door neighbor," the obligation of thinking as +he thinks. He had a keen, almost reckless wit and delicious buoyant +humor, whose utterances never pall by repetition; few authors so abound +in tenaciously quotable phrases and passages of humorous +intellectuality. What is rarely found in connection with much humor, he +had a sensitive dreaminess of nature, strongly poetic in feeling, whence +resulted a large appreciation of the subtler classes of poetry; of which +he was an acute and sympathizing critic. As part of this temperament, he +had a strong bent toward mysticism,--in one essay he says flatly that +"mysticism is true,"--which gave him a rare insight into the religious +nature and some obscure problems of religious history; though he was too +cool, scientific, and humorous to be a great theologian. + +Above all, he had that instinct of selective art, in felicity of words +and salience of ideas, which elevates writing into literature; which +long after a thought has merged its being and use in those of wider +scope, keeps it in separate remembrance and retains for its creator his +due of credit through the artistic charm of the shape he gave it. + +The result of a mixture of traits popularly thought incompatible, and +usually so in reality,--a great relish for the driest business facts and +a creative literary gift,--was absolutely unique. Bagehot explains the +general sterility of literature as a guide to life by the fact that "so +few people who can write know anything;" and began a reform in his own +person, by applying all his highest faculties--the best not only of his +thought but of his imagination and his literary skill--to the theme of +his daily work, banking and business affairs and political economy. +There have been many men of letters who were excellent business men and +hard bargainers, sometimes indeed merchants or bankers, but they have +held their literature as far as possible off the plane of their +bread-winning; they have not used it to explain and decorate the latter +and made that the motive of art. Bagehot loved business not alone as the +born trader loves it, for its profit and its gratification of innate +likings,--"business is really pleasanter than pleasure, though it does +not look so," he says in substance,--but as an artist loves a +picturesque situation or a journalist a murder; it pleased his literary +sense as material for analysis and composition. He had in a high degree +that union of the practical and the musing faculties which in its (as +yet) highest degree made Shakespeare; but even Shakespeare did not write +dramas on how to make theatres pay, or sonnets on real-estate +speculation. + +Bagehot's career was determined, as usual, partly by character and +partly by circumstances. He graduated at London University in 1848, and +studied for and was called to the bar; but his father owned an interest +in a rich old provincial bank and a good shipping-business, and instead +of the law he joined in their conduct. He had just before, however, +passed a few months in France, including the time of Louis Napoleon's +_coup d'etat_ in December, 1851; and from Paris he wrote to the London +Inquirer (a Unitarian weekly) a remarkable series of letters on that +event and its immediate sequents, defending the usurpation vigorously +and outlining his political creed, from whose main lines he swerved but +little in after life. Waiving the question whether the defense was +valid,--and like all first-rate minds, Bagehot is even more instructive +when he is wrong than when he is right, because the wrong is sure to be +almost right and the truth on its side neglected,--the letters are full +of fresh, acute, and even profound ideas, sharp exposition of those +primary objects of government which demagogues and buncombe legislators +ignore, racy wit, sarcasm, and description (in one passage he rises for +a moment into really blood-stirring rhetoric), and proofs of his +capacity thus early for reducing the confused cross-currents of daily +life to the operation of great embracing laws. No other writing of a +youth of twenty-five on such subjects--or almost none--is worth +remembering at all for its matter; while this is perennially wholesome +and educative, as well as capital reading. + +From this on he devoted most of his spare time to literature: that he +found so much spare time, and produced so much of a high grade while +winning respect as a business manager, proves the excellent quality of +his business brain. He was one of the editors of the National Review, a +very able and readable English quarterly, from its foundation in 1854 to +its death in 1863, and wrote for it twenty literary, biographical, and +theological papers, which are among his best titles to enduring +remembrance, and are full of his choicest flavors, his wealth of +thought, fun, poetic sensitiveness, and deep religious feeling of the +needs of human nature. Previous to this, he had written some good +articles for the Prospective Review, and he wrote some afterwards for +the Fortnightly Review (including the series afterwards gathered into +'Physics and Politics'), and other periodicals. + +But his chief industry and most peculiar work was determined by his +marriage in 1858 to the daughter of James Wilson, an ex-merchant who had +founded the Economist as a journal of trade, banking, and investment, +and made it prosperous and rather influential. Mr. Wilson was engaging +in politics, where he rose to high office and would probably have ended +in the Cabinet; but being sent to India to regulate its finances, died +there in 1860. Bagehot thereupon took control of the paper, and _was_ +the paper until his death in 1877; and the position he gave it was as +unique as his own. On banking, finance, taxation, and political economy +in general his utterances had such weight that Chancellors of the +Exchequer consulted him as to the revenues, and the London business +world eagerly studied the paper for guidance. But he went far beyond +this, and made it an unexampled force in politics and governmental +science, personal to himself. For the first time a great political +thinker applied his mind week by week to discussing the problems +presented by passing politics, and expounding the drift and meaning of +current events in his nation and the others which bore closest on it, as +France and America. That he gained such a hearing was due not alone to +his immense ability, and to a style carefully modeled on the +conversation of business men with each other, but to his cool moderation +and evident aloofness from party as party. He dissected each like a man +of science: party was to him a tool and not a religion. He gibed at the +Tories; but the Tories forgave him because he was half a Tory at +heart,--he utterly distrusted popular instincts and was afraid of +popular ignorance. He was rarely warm for the actual measures of the +Liberals; but the Liberals knew that he intensely despised the +pig-headed obstructiveness of the typical Tory, and had no kinship with +the blind worshipers of the _status quo_. To natives and foreigners +alike for many years the paper was single and invaluable: in it one +could find set forth acutely and dispassionately the broad facts and the +real purport of all great legislative proposals, free from the rant and +mendacity, the fury and distortion, the prejudice and counter-prejudice +of the party press. + +An outgrowth of his treble position as banker, economic writer, and +general litterateur, was his charming book 'Lombard Street.' Most +writers know nothing about business, he sets forth, most business men +cannot write, therefore most writing about business is either unreadable +or untrue: he put all his literary gifts at its service, and produced a +book as instructive as a trade manual and more delightful than most +novels. Its luminous, easy, half-playful "business talk" is irresistibly +captivating. It is a description and analysis of the London money market +and its component parts,--the Bank of England, the joint-stock banks, +the private banks, and the bill-brokers. It will live, however, as +literature and as a picture, not as a banker's guide; as the vividest +outline of business London, of the "great commerce" and the fabric of +credit which is the basis of modern civilization and of which London is +the centre, that the world has ever known. + +Previous to this, the most widely known of his works--'The English +Constitution,' much used as a text-book--had made a new epoch in +political analysis, and placed him among the foremost thinkers and +writers of his time. Not only did it revolutionize the accepted mode of +viewing that governmental structure, but as a treatise on government in +general its novel types of classification are now admitted commonplaces. +Besides its main themes, the book is a great store of thought and +suggestion on government, society, and human nature,--for as in all his +works, he pours on his nominal subject a flood of illumination and +analogy from the unlikeliest sources; and a piece of eminently +pleasurable reading from end to end. Its basic novelty lay in what seems +the most natural of inquiries, but which in fact was left for Bagehot's +original mind even to think of,--the actual working of the governmental +system in practice, as distinguished from legal theory. The result of +this novel analysis was startling: old powers and checks went to the +rubbish heap, and a wholly new set of machinery and even new springs of +force and life were substituted. He argued that the actual use of the +English monarchy is not to do the work of government, but through its +roots in the past to gain popular loyalty and support for the real +government, which the masses would not obey if they realized its +genuine nature; that "it raises the army though it does not win the +battle." He showed that the function of the House of Peers is not as a +co-ordinate power with the Commons (which is the real government), but +as a revising body and an index of the strength of popular feeling. +Constitutional governments he divides into Cabinet, where the people can +change the government at any time, and therefore follow its acts and +debates eagerly and instructedly; and Presidential, where they can only +change it at fixed terms, and are therefore apathetic and ill-informed +and care little for speeches which can effect nothing. + +Just before 'Lombard Street' came his scientific masterpiece, 'Physics +and Politics'; a work which does for human society what the 'Origin of +Species' does for organic life, expounding its method of progress from +very low if not the lowest forms to higher ones. Indeed, one of its main +lines is only a special application of Darwin's "natural selection" to +societies, noting the survival of the strongest (which implies in the +long run the best developed in all virtues that make for social +cohesion) through conflict; but the book is so much more than that, in +spite of its heavy debt to all scientific and institutional research, +that it remains a first-rate feat of original constructive thought. It +is the more striking from its almost ludicrous brevity compared with the +novelty, variety, and pregnancy of its ideas. It is scarcely more than a +pamphlet; one can read it through in an evening: yet there is hardly any +book which is a master-key to so many historical locks, so useful a +standard for referring scattered sociological facts to, so clarifying to +the mind in the study of early history. The work is strewn with fertile +and suggestive observations from many branches of knowledge. Its leading +idea of the needs and difficulties of early societies is given in one of +the citations. + +The unfinished 'Economic Studies' are partially a re-survey of the same +ground on a more limited scale, and contain in addition a mass of the +nicest and shrewdest observations on modern trade and society, full of +truth and suggestiveness. All the other books printed under his name are +collections either from the Economist or from outside publications. + +As a thinker, Bagehot's leading positions may be roughly summarized +thus: in history, that reasoning from the present to the past is +generally wrong and frequently nonsense; in politics, that abstract +systems are foolish, that a government which does not benefit its +subjects has no rights against one that will, that the masses had much +better let the upper ranks do the governing than meddle with it +themselves, that all classes are too eager to act without thinking and +ought not to attempt so much; in society, that democracy is an evil +because it leaves no specially trained upper class to furnish models +for refinement. But there is vastly more besides this, and his value +lies much more in the mental clarification afforded by his details than +in the new principles of action afforded by his generalizations. He +leaves men saner, soberer, juster, with a clearer sense of perspective, +of real issues, that more than makes up for a slight diminution of zeal. + +As pure literature, the most individual trait in his writings sprang +from his scorn of mere word-mongering divorced from actual life. "A man +ought to have the right of being a Philistine if he chooses," he tells +us: "there is a sickly incompleteness in men too fine for the world and +too nice to work their way through it." A great man of letters, no one +has ever mocked his craft so persistently. A great thinker, he never +tired of humorously magnifying the active and belittling the +intellectual temperament. Of course it was only half-serious: he admits +the force and utility of colossal visionaries like Shelley, constructive +scholars like Gibbon, ascetic artists like Milton, even light dreamers +like Hartley Coleridge; indeed, intellectually he appreciates all +intellectual force, and scorns feeble thought which has the effrontery +to show itself, and those who are "cross with the agony of a new idea." +But his heart goes out to the unscholarly Cavalier with his dash and his +loyalty, to the county member who "hardly reads two books per +existence," and even to the rustic who sticks to his old ideas and whom +"it takes seven weeks to comprehend an atom of a new one." A petty +surface consistency must not be exacted from the miscellaneous +utterances of a humorist: all sorts of complementary half-truths are +part of his service. His own quite just conception of humor, as meaning +merely full vision and balanced judgment, is his best defense: "when a +man has attained the deep conception that there is such a thing as +nonsense," he says, "you may be sure of him for ever after." At bottom +he is thoroughly consistent: holding that the masses should work in +contented deference to their intellectual guides, but those guides +should qualify themselves by practical experience of life, that poetry +is not an amusement for lazy sybarites but the most elevating of +spiritual influences, that religions cut the roots of their power by +trying to avoid supernaturalism and cultivate intelligibility, and that +the animal basis of human life is a screen expressly devised to shut off +direct knowledge of God and make character possible. + +To make his acquaintance first is to enter upon a store of high and fine +enjoyment, and of strong and vivifying thought, which one must be either +very rich of attainment or very feeble of grasp to find unprofitable or +pleasureless. + + +THE VIRTUES OF STUPIDITY + +From 'Letters on the French Coup d'Etat' + +I fear you will laugh when I tell you what I conceive to be about the +most essential mental quality for a free people whose liberty is to be +progressive, permanent, and on a large scale: it is much stupidity. Not +to begin by wounding any present susceptibilities, let me take the Roman +character; for with one great exception,--I need not say to whom I +allude,--they are the great political people of history. Now, is not a +certain dullness their most visible characteristic? What is the history +of their speculative mind? a blank; what their literature? a copy. They +have left not a single discovery in any abstract science, not a single +perfect or well-formed work of high imagination. The Greeks, the +perfection of human and accomplished genius, bequeathed to mankind the +ideal forms of self-idolizing art, the Romans imitated and admired; the +Greeks explained the laws of nature, the Romans wondered and despised; +the Greeks invented a system of numerals second only to that now in use, +the Romans counted to the end of their days with the clumsy apparatus +which we still call by their name; the Greeks made a capital and +scientific calendar, the Romans began their month when the Pontifex +Maximus happened to spy out the new moon. Throughout Latin literature, +this is the perpetual puzzle:--Why are we free and they slaves, we +praetors and they barbers? why do the stupid people always win and the +clever people always lose? I need not say that in real sound stupidity +the English are unrivaled: you'll hear more wit and better wit in an +Irish street row than would keep Westminster Hall in humor for +five weeks. + + * * * * * + +In fact, what we opprobriously call "stupidity," though not an +enlivening quality in common society, is nature's favorite resource for +preserving steadiness of conduct and consistency of opinion; it enforces +concentration: people who learn slowly, learn only what they must. The +best security for people's doing their duty is, that they should not +know anything else to do; the best security for fixedness of opinion is, +that people should be incapable of comprehending what is to be said on +the other side. These valuable truths are no discoveries of mine: they +are familiar enough to people whose business it is to know them. Hear +what a douce and aged attorney says of your peculiarly promising +barrister:--"Sharp? Oh, yes! he's too sharp by half. He is not _safe_, +not a minute, isn't that young man." I extend this, and advisedly +maintain that nations, just as individuals, may be too clever to be +practical and not dull enough to be free.... + +And what I call a proper stupidity keeps a man from all the defects of +this character: it chains the gifted possessor mainly to his old ideas, +it takes him seven weeks to comprehend an atom of a new one; it keeps +him from being led away by new theories, for there is nothing which +bores him so much; it restrains him within his old pursuits, his +well-known habits, his tried expedients, his verified conclusions, his +traditional beliefs. He is not tempted to levity or impatience, for he +does not see the joke and is thick-skinned to present evils. +Inconsistency puts him out: "What I says is this here, as I was a-saying +yesterday," is his notion of historical eloquence and habitual +discretion. He is very slow indeed to be excited,--his passions, his +feelings, and his affections are dull and tardy strong things, falling +in a certain known direction, fixed on certain known objects, and for +the most part acting in a moderate degree and at a sluggish pace. You +always know where to find his mind. Now, this is exactly what (in +politics at least) you do not know about a Frenchman. + + +REVIEW WRITING + +From 'The First Edinburgh Reviewers' + +Review writing exemplifies the casual character of modern literature: +everything about it is temporary and fragmentary. Look at a railway +stall: you see books of every color,--blue, yellow, crimson, +"ring-streaked, speckled, and spotted,"--on every subject, in every +style, of every opinion, with every conceivable difference, celestial or +sublunary, maleficent, beneficent--but all small. People take their +literature in morsels, as they take sandwiches on a journey.... + +And the change in appearance of books has been accompanied--has been +caused--by a similar change in readers. What a transition from the +student of former ages! from a grave man with grave cheeks and a +considerate eye, who spends his life in study, has no interest in the +outward world, hears nothing of its din and cares nothing for its +honors, who would gladly learn and gladly teach, whose whole soul is +taken up with a few books of 'Aristotle and his Philosophy,'--to the +merchant in the railway, with a head full of sums, an idea that tallow +is "up," a conviction that teas are "lively," and a mind reverting +perpetually from the little volume which he reads to these mundane +topics, to the railway, to the shares, to the buying and bargaining +universe. We must not wonder that the outside of books is so different, +when the inner nature of those for whom they are written is so changed. + +In this transition from ancient writing to modern, the review-like essay +and the essay-like review fill a large space. Their small bulk, their +slight pretension to systematic completeness,--their avowal, it might be +said, of necessary incompleteness,--the facility of changing the +subject, of selecting points to attack, of exposing only the best corner +for defense, are great temptations. Still greater is the advantage of +"our limits." A real reviewer always spends his first and best pages on +the parts of a subject on which he wishes to write, the easy comfortable +parts which he knows. The formidable difficulties which he acknowledges, +you foresee by a strange fatality that he will only reach two pages +before the end; to his great grief, there is no opportunity for +discussing them. As a young gentleman at the India House examination +wrote "Time up" on nine unfinished papers in succession, so you may +occasionally read a whole review, in every article of which the +principal difficulty of each successive question is about to be reached +at the conclusion. Nor can any one deny that this is the suitable skill, +the judicious custom of the craft. + + +LORD ELDON + +From 'The First Edinburgh Reviewers' + +As for Lord Eldon, it is the most difficult thing in the world to +believe that there ever was such a man; it only shows how intense +historical evidence is, that no one really doubts it. He believed in +everything which it is impossible to believe in,--in the danger of +Parliamentary Reform, the danger of Catholic Emancipation, the danger of +altering the Court of Chancery, the danger of altering the courts of +law, the danger of abolishing capital punishment for trivial thefts, +the danger of making land-owners pay their debts, the danger of making +anything more, the danger of making anything less. It seems as if he +maturely thought, "Now, I know the present state of things to be +consistent with the existence of John Lord Eldon; but if we begin +altering that state, I am sure I do not know that it will be +consistent." As Sir Robert Walpole was against all committees of inquiry +on the simple ground, "If they once begin that sort of thing, who knows +who will be safe?" so that great Chancellor (still remembered in his own +scene) looked pleasantly down from the woolsack, and seemed to observe, +"Well, it _is_ a queer thing that I should be here, and here I mean +to stay." + + +TASTE + +From 'Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Browning' + +There is a most formidable and estimable _insane_ taste. The will has +great though indirect power over the taste, just as it has over the +belief. There are some horrid beliefs from which human nature revolts, +from which at first it shrinks, to which at first no effort can force +it. But if we fix the mind upon them, they have a power over us, just +because of their natural offensiveness. They are like the sight of human +blood. Experienced soldiers tell us that at first, men are sickened by +the smell and newness of blood, almost to death and fainting; but that +as soon as they harden their hearts and stiffen their minds, as soon as +they _will_ bear it, then comes an appetite for slaughter, a tendency to +gloat on carnage, to love blood (at least for the moment) with a deep, +eager love. It is a principle that if we put down a healthy instinctive +aversion, nature avenges herself by creating an unhealthy insane +attraction. For this reason, the most earnest truth-seeking men fall +into the worst delusions. They will not let their mind alone; they force +it toward some ugly thing, which a crotchet of argument, a conceit of +intellect recommends: and nature punishes their disregard of her warning +by subjection to the ugly one, by belief in it. Just so, the most +industrious critics get the most admiration. They think it unjust to +rest in their instinctive natural horror; they overcome it, and angry +nature gives them over to ugly poems and marries them to +detestable stanzas. + + +CAUSES OF THE STERILITY OF LITERATURE + +From 'Shakespeare, the Man,' etc. + +The reason why so few good books are written is, that so few people that +can write know anything. In general, an author has always lived in a +room, has read books, has cultivated science, is acquainted with the +style and sentiments of the best authors, but he is out of the way of +employing his own eyes and ears. He has nothing to hear and nothing to +see. His life is a vacuum. The mental habits of Robert Southey, which +about a year ago were so extensively praised in the public journals, are +the type of literary existence, just as the praise bestowed on them +shows the admiration excited by them among literary people. He wrote +poetry (as if anybody could) before breakfast; he read during breakfast. +He wrote history until dinner; he corrected proof-sheets between dinner +and tea; he wrote an essay for the Quarterly afterwards; and after +supper, by way of relaxation, composed 'The Doctor'--a lengthy and +elaborate jest. Now, what can any one think of such a life?--except how +clearly it shows that the habits best fitted for communicating +information, formed with the best care, and daily regulated by the best +motives, are exactly the habits which are likely to afford a man the +least information to communicate. Southey had no events, no experiences. +His wife kept house and allowed him pocket-money, just as if he had been +a German professor devoted to accents, tobacco, and the dates of +Horace's amours.... + +The critic in the 'Vicar of Wakefield' lays down that you should +_always_ say that the picture would have been better if the painter had +taken more pains; but in the case of the practiced literary man, you +should often enough say that the writings would have been much better if +the writer had taken less pains. He says he has devoted his life to the +subject; the reply is, "Then you have taken the best way to prevent your +making anything of it. Instead of reading studiously what Burgersdicius +and Aenesidemus said men were, you should have gone out yourself and +seen (if you can see) what they are." But there is a whole class of +minds which prefer the literary delineation of objects to the actual +eyesight of them. Such a man would naturally think literature more +instructive than life. Hazlitt said of Mackintosh, "He might like to +read an _account_ of India; but India itself, with its burning, shining +face, would be a mere blank, an endless waste to him. Persons of this +class have no more to say to a matter of fact staring them in the face, +without a label in its mouth, than they would to a hippopotamus."... + +After all, the original way of writing books may turn out to be the +best. The first author, it is plain, could not have taken anything from +books, since there were no books for him to copy from; he looked at +things for himself. Anyhow the modern system fails, for where are the +amusing books from voracious students and habitual writers? + +Moreover, in general, it will perhaps be found that persons devoted to +mere literature commonly become devoted to mere idleness. They wish to +produce a great work, but they find they cannot. Having relinquished +everything to devote themselves to this, they conclude on trial that +this is impossible; they wish to write, but nothing occurs to them: +therefore they write nothing and they do nothing. As has been said, they +have nothing to do; their life has no events, unless they are very poor; +with any decent means of subsistence, they have nothing to rouse them +from an indolent and musing dream. A merchant must meet his bills, or he +is civilly dead and uncivilly remembered; but a student may know nothing +of time, and be too lazy to wind lip his watch. + + +THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS + +From 'William Cowper' + +If there be any truly painful fact about the world now tolerably well +established by ample experience and ample records, it is that an +intellectual and indolent happiness is wholly denied to the children of +men. That most valuable author, Lucretius, who has supplied us and +others with an almost inexhaustible supply of metaphors on this topic, +ever dwells on the life of his gods with a sad and melancholy feeling +that no such life was possible on a crude and cumbersome earth. In +general, the two opposing agencies are marriage and lack of money; +either of these breaks the lot of literary and refined inaction at once +and forever. The first of these, as we have seen, Cowper had escaped; +his reserved and negligent reveries were still free, at least from the +invasion of affection. To this invasion, indeed, there is commonly +requisite the acquiescence or connivance of mortality; but all men are +born--not free and equal, as the Americans maintain, but, in the Old +World at least--basely subjected to the yoke of coin. It is in vain that +in this hemisphere we endeavor after impecuniary fancies. In bold and +eager youth we go out on our travels: we visit Baalbec and Paphos and +Tadmor and Cythera,--ancient shrines and ancient empires, seats of eager +love or gentle inspiration; we wander far and long; we have nothing to +do with our fellow-men,--what are we, indeed, to diggers and counters? +we wander far, we dream to wander forever--but we dream in vain. A surer +force than the subtlest fascination of fancy is in operation; the +purse-strings tie us to our kind. Our travel coin runs low, and we must +return, away from Tadmor and Baalbec, back to our steady, tedious +industry and dull work, to "la vieille Europe" (as Napoleon said), "qui +m'ennuie." It is the same in thought: in vain we seclude ourselves in +elegant chambers, in fascinating fancies, in refined reflections. + + +ON EARLY READING + +From 'Edward Gibbon' + +In school work Gibbon had uncommon difficulties and unusual +deficiencies; but these were much more than counterbalanced by a habit +which often accompanies a sickly childhood, and is the commencement of a +studious life,--the habit of desultory reading. The instructiveness of +this is sometimes not comprehended. S. T. Coleridge used to say that he +felt a great superiority over those who had not read--and fondly +read--fairy tales in their childhood: he thought they wanted a sense +which he possessed, the perception, or apperception--we do not know +which he used to say it was--of the unity and wholeness of the universe. +As to fairy tales, this is a hard saying; but as to desultory reading, +it is certainly true. Some people have known a time in life when there +was no book they could not read. The fact of its being a book went +immensely in its favor. In early life there is an opinion that the +obvious thing to do with a horse is to ride it; with a cake, to eat it; +with sixpence, to spend it. A few boys carry this further, and think +the natural thing to do with a book is to read it. There is an argument +from design in the subject: if the book was not meant for that purpose, +for what purpose was it meant? Of course, of any understanding of the +works so perused there is no question or idea. There is a legend of +Bentham, in his earliest childhood, climbing to the height of a huge +stool, and sitting there evening after evening, with two candles, +engaged in the perusal of Rapin's history; it might as well have been +any other book. The doctrine of utility had not then dawned on its +immortal teacher; _cui bono_ was an idea unknown to him. He would have +been ready to read about Egypt, about Spain, about coals in Borneo, the +teak-wood in India, the current in the River Mississippi, on natural +history or human history, on theology or morals, on the state of the +Dark Ages or the state of the Light Ages, on Augustulus or Lord Chatham, +on the first century or the seventeenth, on the moon, the millennium, or +the whole duty of man. Just then, reading is an end in itself. At that +time of life you no more think of a future consequence--of the remote, +the very remote possibility of deriving knowledge from the perusal of a +book, than you expect so great a result from spinning a peg-top. You +spin the top, and you read the book; and these scenes of life are +exhausted. In such studies, of all prose, perhaps the best is history: +one page is so like another, battle No. 1 is so much on a par with +battle No. 2. Truth may be, as they say, stranger than fiction, +abstractedly; but in actual books, novels are certainly odder and more +astounding than correct history. + +It will be said, What is the use of this? why not leave the reading of +great books till a great age? why plague and perplex childhood with +complex facts remote from its experience and inapprehensible by its +imagination? The reply is, that though in all great and combined facts +there is much which childhood cannot thoroughly imagine, there is also +in very many a great deal which can only be truly apprehended for the +first time at that age. Youth has a principle of consolidation; we begin +with the whole. Small sciences are the labors of our manhood; but the +round universe is the plaything of the boy. His fresh mind shoots out +vaguely and crudely into the infinite and eternal. Nothing is hid from +the depth of it; there are no boundaries to its vague and wandering +vision. Early science, it has been said, begins in utter nonsense; it +would be truer to say that it starts with boyish fancies. How absurd +seem the notions of the first Greeks! Who could believe now that air or +water was the principle, the pervading substance, the eternal material +of all things? Such affairs will never explain a thick rock. And what a +white original for a green and sky-blue world! Yet people disputed in +these ages not whether it was either of those substances, but which of +them it was. And doubtless there was a great deal, at least in quantity, +to be said on both sides. Boys are improved; but some in our own day +have asked, "Mamma, I say, what did God make the world of?" and several, +who did not venture on speech, have had an idea of some one gray +primitive thing, felt a difficulty as to how the red came, and wondered +that marble could _ever_ have been the same as moonshine. This is in +truth the picture of life. We begin with the infinite and eternal, which +we shall never apprehend; and these form a framework, a schedule, a set +of co-ordinates to which we refer all which we learn later. At first, +like the old Greek, "We look up to the whole sky, and are lost in the +one and the all;" in the end we classify and enumerate, learn each star, +calculate distances, draw cramped diagrams on the unbounded sky, write a +paper on a Cygni and a treatise on e Draconis, map special facts upon +the indefinite void, and engrave precise details on the infinite and +everlasting. So in history: somehow the whole comes in boyhood, the +details later and in manhood. The wonderful series, going far back to +the times of old patriarchs with their flocks and herds, the keen-eyed +Greek, the stately Roman, the watching Jew, the uncouth Goth, the horrid +Hun, the settled picture of the unchanging East, the restless shifting +of the rapid West, the rise of the cold and classical civilization, its +fall, the rough impetuous Middle Ages, the vague warm picture of +ourselves and home,--when did we learn these? Not yesterday nor to-day: +but long ago, in the first dawn of reason, in the original flow of +fancy. What we learn afterwards are but the accurate littlenesses of the +great topic, the dates and tedious facts. Those who begin late learn +only these; but the happy first feel the mystic associations and the +progress of the whole. + +However exalted may seem the praises which we have given to loose and +unplanned reading, we are not saying that it is the sole ingredient of a +good education. Besides this sort of education, which some boys will +voluntarily and naturally give themselves, there needs, of course, +another and more rigorous kind, which must be impressed upon them from +without. The terrible difficulty of early life--the _use_ of pastors and +masters really is, that they compel boys to a distinct mastery of that +which they do not wish to learn. There is nothing to be said for a +preceptor who is not dry. Mr. Carlyle describes, with bitter satire, the +fate of one of his heroes who was obliged to acquire whole systems of +information in which he, the hero, saw no use, and which he kept, as far +as might be, in a vacant corner of his mind. And this is the very point: +dry language, tedious mathematics, a thumbed grammar, a detested slate +form gradually an interior separate intellect, exact in its information, +rigid in its requirements, disciplined in its exercises. The two grow +together; the early natural fancy touching the far extremities of the +universe, lightly playing with the scheme of all things; the precise, +compacted memory slowly accumulating special facts, exact habits, clear +and painful conceptions. At last, as it were in a moment, the cloud +breaks up, the division sweeps away; we find that in fact these +exercises which puzzled us, these languages which we hated, these +details which we despised, are the instruments of true thought; are the +very keys and openings, the exclusive access to the knowledge which +we loved. + +_THE CAVALIERS_. +Photogravure from a Painting by F. Vinea. + +[Illustration] + + +THE CAVALIERS + +From 'Thomas Babington Macaulay' + +What historian has ever estimated the Cavalier character? There is +Clarendon, the grave, rhetorical, decorous lawyer, piling words, +congealing arguments; very stately, a little grim. There is Hume, the +Scotch metaphysician, who has made out the best case for such people as +never were, for a Charles who never died, for a Strafford who would +never have been attainted; a saving, calculating North-country man, fat, +impassive, who lived on eightpence a day. What have these people to do +with an enjoying English gentleman? It is easy for a doctrinaire to bear +a post-mortem examination,--it is much the same whether he be alive or +dead; but not so with those who live during their life, whose essence is +existence, whose being is in animation. There seem to be some characters +who are not made for history, as there are some who are not made for old +age. A Cavalier is always young. The buoyant life arises before us, +rich in hope, strong in vigor, irregular in action; men young and +ardent, "framed in the prodigality of nature"; open to every enjoyment, +alive to every passion, eager, impulsive; brave without discipline, +noble without principle; prizing luxury, despising danger; capable of +high sentiment, but in each of whom the + + "Addiction was to courses vain, + His companies unlettered, rude, and shallow, + His hours filled up with riots, banquets, sports, + And never noted in him any study, + Any retirement, any sequestration + From open haunts and popularity." + +We see these men setting forth or assembling to defend their king or +church, and we see it without surprise; a rich daring loves danger, a +deep excitability likes excitement. If we look around us, we may see +what is analogous: some say that the battle of the Alma was won by the +"uneducated gentry"; the "uneducated gentry" would be Cavaliers now. The +political sentiment is part of the character; the essence of Toryism is +enjoyment. Talk of the ways of spreading a wholesome conservatism +throughout this country! Give painful lectures, distribute weary tracts +(and perhaps this is as well,--you may be able to give an argumentative +answer to a few objections, you may diffuse a distinct notion of the +dignified dullness of politics); but as far as communicating and +establishing your creed are concerned, try a little pleasure. The way to +keep up old customs is to enjoy old customs; the way to be satisfied +with the present state of things is to enjoy that state of things. Over +the "Cavalier" mind this world passes with a thrill of delight; there is +an exaltation in a daily event, zest in the "regular thing," joy at an +old feast. + + +MORALITY AND FEAR + +From 'Bishop Butler' + +The moral principle (whatever may be said to the contrary by complacent +thinkers) is really and to most men a principle of fear. The delights of +a good conscience may be reserved for better things, but few men who +know themselves will say that they have often felt them by vivid and +actual experience; a sensation of shame, of reproach, of remorse, of sin +(to use the word we instinctively shrink from because it expresses the +meaning), is what the moral principle really and practically thrusts on +most men. Conscience is the condemnation of ourselves; we expect a +penalty. As the Greek proverb teaches, "where there is shame there is +fear"; where there is the deep and intimate anxiety of guilt,--the +feeling which has driven murderers and other than murderers forth to +wastes and rocks and stones and tempests,--we see, as it were, in a +single complex and indivisible sensation, the pain and sense of guilt +and the painful anticipation of its punishment. How to be free from +this, is the question; how to get loose from this; how to be rid of the +secret tie which binds the strong man and cramps his pride, and makes +him angry at the beauty of the universe,--which will not let him go +forth like a great animal, like the king of the forest, in the glory of +his might, but restrains him with an inner fear and a secret foreboding +that if he do but exalt himself he shall be abased, if he do but set +forth his own dignity he will offend ONE who will deprive him of it. +This, as has often been pointed out, is the source of the bloody rites +of heathendom. You are going to battle, you are going out in the bright +sun with dancing plumes and glittering spear; your shield shines, and +your feathers wave, and your limbs are glad with the consciousness of +strength, and your mind is warm with glory and renown; with coming glory +and unobtained renown: for who are you to hope for these; who are _you_ +to go forth proudly against the pride of the sun, with your secret sin +and your haunting shame and your real fear? First lie down and abase +yourself; strike your back with hard stripes; cut deep with a sharp +knife, as if you would eradicate the consciousness; cry aloud; put ashes +on your head; bruise yourself with stones,--then perhaps God may pardon +you. Or, better still (so runs the incoherent feeling), give him +something--your ox, your ass, whole hecatombs if you are rich enough; +anything, it is but a chance,--you do not know what will please him; at +any rate, what you love best yourself,--that is, most likely, your +first-born son. Then, after such gifts and such humiliation, he may be +appeased, he may let you off; he may without anger let you go forth, +Achilles-like, in the glory of your shield; he may _not_ send you home +as he would else, the victim of rout and treachery, with broken arms and +foul limbs, in weariness and humiliation. Of course, it is not this kind +of fanaticism that we impute to a prelate of the English Church; human +sacrifices are not respectable, and Achilles was not rector of Stanhope. +But though the costume and circumstances of life change, the human heart +does not; its feelings remain. The same anxiety, the same consciousness +of personal sin which led in barbarous times to what has been described, +show themselves in civilized life as well. In this quieter period, their +great manifestation is scrupulosity: a care about the ritual of life; an +attention to meats and drinks, and "cups and washings." Being so +unworthy as we are, feeling what we feel, abased as we are abased, who +shall say that those are beneath us? In ardent, imaginative youth they +may seem so; but let a few years come, let them dull the will or +contract the heart or stain the mind; then the consequent feeling will +be, as all experience shows, not that a ritual is too mean, too low, too +degrading for human nature, but that it is a mercy we have to do no +more,--that we have only to wash in Jordan, that we have not even to go +out into the unknown distance to seek for Abana and Pharpar, rivers of +Damascus. We have no right to judge; we cannot decide; we must do what +is laid down for us,--we fail daily even in this; we must never cease +for a moment in our scrupulous anxiety to omit by no tittle and to +exceed by no iota. + + +THE TYRANNY OF CONVENTION + +From 'Sir Robert Peel' + +It might be said that this [necessity for newspapers and statesmen of +following the crowd] is only one of the results of that tyranny of +commonplace which seems to accompany civilization. You may talk of the +tyranny of Nero and Tiberius; but the real tyranny is the tyranny of +your next-door neighbor. What law is so cruel as the law of doing what +he does? What yoke is so galling as the necessity of being like him? +What espionage of despotism comes to your door so effectually as the eye +of the man who lives at your door? Public opinion is a permeating +influence, and it exacts obedience to itself; it requires us to think +other men's thoughts, to speak other men's words, to follow other men's +habits. Of course, if we do not, no formal ban issues; no corporeal +pain, no coarse penalty of a barbarous society is inflicted on the +offender; but we are called "eccentric"; there is a gentle murmur of +"most unfortunate ideas," "singular young man," "well-intentioned, I +dare say; but unsafe, sir, quite unsafe." + +Whatever truth there may be in these splenetic observations might be +expected to show itself more particularly in the world of politics: +people dread to be thought unsafe in proportion as they get their living +by being thought to be safe. Those who desire a public career must look +to the views of the living public; an immediate exterior influence is +essential to the exertion of their faculties. The confidence of others +is your _fulcrum:_ you cannot--many people wish you could--go into +Parliament to represent yourself; you must conform to the opinions of +the electors, and they, depend on it, will not be original. In a word, +as has been most wisely observed, "under free institutions it is +necessary occasionally to defer to the opinions of other people; and as +other people are obviously in the wrong, this is a great hindrance to +the improvement of our political system and the progress of +our species." + + +HOW TO BE AN INFLUENTIAL POLITICIAN + +From 'Bolingbroke' + +It is very natural that brilliant and vehement men should depreciate +Harley; for he had nothing which they possess, but had everything which +they commonly do not possess. He was by nature a moderate man. In that +age they called such a man a "trimmer," but they called him ill: such a +man does not consciously shift or purposely trim his course,--he firmly +believes that he is substantially consistent. "I do not wish in this +House," he would say in our age, "to be a party to any extreme course. +Mr. Gladstone brings forward a great many things which I cannot +understand; I assure you he does. There is more in that bill of his +about tobacco than he thinks; I am confident there is. Money is a +serious thing, a _very_ serious thing. And I am sorry to say Mr. +Disraeli commits the party very much: he avows sentiments which are +injudicious; I cannot go along with him, nor can Sir John. He was not +taught the catechism; I know he was not. There is a want in him of sound +and sober religion,--and Sir John agrees with me,--which would keep him +from distressing the clergy, who are very important. Great orators are +very well; but as I said, how is the revenue? And the point is, not be +led away, and to be moderate, and not to go to an extreme. As soon as it +seems _very_ clear, then I begin to doubt. I have been many years in +Parliament, and that is my experience." We may laugh at such speeches, +but there have been plenty of them in every English Parliament. A great +English divine has been described as always leaving out the principle +upon which his arguments rested; even if it was stated to him, he +regarded it as far-fetched and extravagant. Any politician who has this +temper of mind will always have many followers; and he may be nearly +sure that all great measures will be passed more nearly as he wishes +them to be passed than as great orators wish. Nine-tenths of mankind are +more afraid of violence than of anything else; and inconsistent +moderation is always popular, because of all qualities it is most +opposite to violence,--most likely to preserve the present safe +existence. + + +CONDITIONS OF CABINET GOVERNMENT + +From 'The English Constitution' + +The conditions of fitness are two: first, you must get a good +legislature; and next, you must keep it good. And these are by no means +so nearly connected as might be thought at first sight. To keep a +legislature efficient, it must have a sufficient supply of substantial +business: if you employ the best set of men to do nearly nothing, they +will quarrel with each other about that nothing; where great questions +end, little parties begin. And a very happy community, with few new laws +to make, few old bad laws to repeal, and but simple foreign relations to +adjust, has great difficulty in employing a legislature,--there is +nothing for it to enact and nothing for it to settle. Accordingly, there +is great danger that the legislature, being debarred from all other +kinds of business, may take to quarreling about its elective business; +that controversies as to ministries may occupy all its time, and yet +that time be perniciously employed; that a constant succession of feeble +administrations, unable to govern and unfit to govern, may be +substituted for the proper result of cabinet government, a sufficient +body of men long enough in power to evince their sufficiency. The exact +amount of non-elective business necessary for a parliament which is to +elect the executive cannot, of course, be formally stated,--there are no +numbers and no statistics in the theory of constitutions; all we can say +is, that a parliament with little business, which is to be as efficient +as a parliament with much business, must be in all other respects much +better. An indifferent parliament may be much improved by the steadying +effect of grave affairs; but a parliament which has no such affairs must +be intrinsically excellent, or it will fail utterly. + +But the difficulty of keeping a good legislature is evidently secondary +to the difficulty of first getting it. There are two kinds of nations +which can elect a good parliament. The first is a nation in which the +mass of the people are intelligent, and in which they are comfortable. +Where there is no honest poverty, where education is diffused and +political intelligence is common, it is easy for the mass of the people +to elect a fair legislature. The ideal is roughly realized in the North +American colonies of England, and in the whole free States of the Union: +in these countries there is no such thing as honest poverty,--physical +comfort, such as the poor cannot imagine here, is there easily +attainable by healthy industry; education is diffused much, and is fast +spreading,--ignorant emigrants from the Old World often prize the +intellectual advantages of which they are themselves destitute, and are +annoyed at their inferiority in a place where rudimentary culture is so +common. The greatest difficulty of such new communities is commonly +geographical: the population is mostly scattered; and where population +is sparse, discussion is difficult. But in a country very large as we +reckon in Europe, a people really intelligent, really educated, really +comfortable, would soon form a good opinion. No one can doubt that the +New England States, if they were a separate community, would have an +education, a political capacity, and an intelligence such as the +numerical majority of no people equally numerous has ever possessed: in +a State of this sort, where all the community is fit to choose a +sufficient legislature, it is possible, it is almost easy, to create +that legislature. If the New England States possessed a cabinet +government as a separate nation, they would be as renowned in the world +for political sagacity as they now are for diffused happiness. + + +WHY EARLY SOCIETIES COULD NOT BE FREE + +From 'Physics and Politics' + +I believe the general description in which Sir John Lubbock sums up his +estimate of the savage mind suits the patriarchal mind: "Savages," he +says, "have the character of children with the passions and strength +of men."... + +And this is precisely what we should expect. "An inherited drill," +science says, "makes modern nations what they are; their born structure +bears the trace of the laws of their fathers:" but the ancient nations +came into no such inheritance,--they were the descendants of people who +did what was right in their own eyes; they were born to no tutored +habits, no preservative bonds, and therefore they were at the mercy of +every impulse and blown by every passion.... + +Again, I at least cannot call up to myself the loose conceptions (as +they must have been) of morals which then existed. If we set aside all +the element derived from law and polity which runs through our current +moral notions, I hardly know what we shall have left. The residuum was +somehow and in some vague way intelligible to the ante-political man; +but it must have been uncertain, wavering, and unfit to be depended +upon. In the best cases it existed much as the vague feeling of beauty +now exists in minds sensitive but untaught,--a still small voice of +uncertain meaning, an unknown something modifying everything else and +higher than anything else, yet in form so indistinct that when you +looked for it, it was gone; or if this be thought the delicate fiction +of a later fancy, then morality was at least to be found in the wild +spasms of "wild justice," half punishment, half outrage: but anyhow, +being unfixed by steady law, it was intermittent, vague, and hard for us +to imagine.... + +To sum up:--_Law_--rigid, definite, concise law--is the primary want of +early mankind; that which they need above anything else, that which is +requisite before they can gain anything else. But it is their greatest +difficulty as well as their first requisite; the thing most out of their +reach as well as that most beneficial to them if they reach it. In later +ages, many races have gained much of this discipline quickly though +painfully,--a loose set of scattered clans has been often and often +forced to substantial settlement by a rigid conqueror; the Romans did +half the work for above half Europe. But where could the first ages find +Romans or a conqueror? men conquer by the power of government, and it +was exactly government which then was not. The first ascent of +civilization was at a steep gradient, though when now we look down upon +it, it seems almost nothing. + +How the step from no polity to polity was made, distinct history does +not record.... But when once polities were begun, there is no difficulty +in explaining why they lasted. Whatever may be said against the +principle of "natural selection" in other departments, there is no doubt +of its predominance in early human history: the strongest killed out the +weakest as they could. And I need not pause to prove that any form of +polity is more efficient than none; that an aggregate of families owning +even a slippery allegiance to a single head would be sure to have the +better of a set of families acknowledging no obedience to any one, but +scattering loose about the world and fighting where they stood. Homer's +Cyclops would be powerless against the feeblest band; so far from its +being singular that we find no other record of that state of man, so +unstable and sure to perish was it that we should rather wonder at even +a single vestige lasting down to the age when for picturesqueness it +became valuable in poetry. + +But though the origin of polity is dubious, we are upon the _terra +firma_ of actual records when we speak of the preservation of polities. +Perhaps every young Englishman who comes nowadays to Aristotle or Plato +is struck with their conservatism: fresh from the liberal doctrines of +the present age, he wonders at finding in those recognized teachers so +much contrary teaching. They both, unlike as they are, hold with +Xenophon so unlike both, that man is "the hardest of all animals to +govern." Of Plato it might indeed be plausibly said that the adherents +of an intuitive philosophy, being "the Tories of speculation," have +commonly been prone to conservatism in government; but Aristotle, the +founder of the experience philosophy, ought according to that doctrine +to have been a Liberal if any one ever was a Liberal. In fact, both of +these men lived when men "had not had time to forget" the difficulties +of government: we have forgotten them altogether. We reckon as the basis +of our culture upon an amount of order, of tacit obedience, of +prescriptive governability, which these philosophers hoped to get as a +principal result of their culture; we take without thought as a _datum_ +what they hunted as a _quaesitum_. + +In early times the quantity of government is much more important than +its quality. What you want is a comprehensive rule binding men together, +making them do much the same things, telling them what to expect of each +other,--fashioning them alike and keeping them so: what this rule is, +does not matter so much. A good rule is better than a bad one, but any +rule is better than none; while, for reasons which a jurist will +appreciate, none can be very good. But to gain that rule, what may be +called the "impressive" elements of a polity are incomparably more +important than its useful elements. How to get the obedience of men, is +the hard problem; what you do with that obedience is less critical. + +To gain that obedience, the primary condition is the identity--not the +union, but the sameness--of what we now call "church" and "state."... No +division of power is then endurable without danger, probably without +destruction: the priest must not teach one thing and the king another; +king must be priest and prophet king,--the two must say the same because +they are the same. The idea of difference between spiritual penalties +and legal penalties must never be awakened,--indeed, early Greek thought +or early Roman thought would never have comprehended it; there was a +kind of rough public opinion, and there were rough--very rough--hands +which acted on it. We now talk of "political penalties" and +"ecclesiastical prohibition" and "the social censure"; but they were all +one then. Nothing is very like those old communities now, but perhaps a +trades-union is as near as most things: to work cheap is thought to be a +"wicked" thing, and so some Broadhead puts it down. + +The object of such organizations is to create what may be called a +_cake_ of custom. All the actions of life are to be submitted to a +single rule for a single object,--that gradually created "hereditary +drill" which science teaches to be essential, and which the early +instinct of men saw to be essential too. That this _regime_ forbids free +thought is not an evil,--or rather, though an evil, it is the necessary +basis for the greatest good; it is necessary for making the mold of +civilization and hardening the soft fibre of early man. + + +BENEFITS OF FREE DISCUSSION IN MODERN TIMES + +From 'Physics and Politics' + +In this manner polities of discussion broke up the old bonds of custom +which were now strangling mankind, though they had once aided and helped +it; but this is only one of the many gifts which those polities have +conferred, are conferring, and will confer on mankind. I am not going to +write a eulogium on liberty, but I wish to set down three points which +have not been sufficiently noticed. + +Civilized ages inherit the human nature which was victorious in +barbarous ages, and that nature is in many respects not at all suited to +civilized circumstances. A main and principal excellence in the early +times of the human races is the impulse to action. The problems before +men are then plain and simple: the man who works hardest, the man who +kills the most deer, the man who catches the most fish--even later on, +the man who tends the largest herds or the man who tills the largest +field--is the man who succeeds; the nation which is quickest to kill its +enemies or which kills most of its enemies is the nation which succeeds. +All the inducements of early society tend to foster immediate action, +all its penalties fall on the man who pauses; the traditional wisdom of +those times was never weary of inculcating that "delays are dangerous," +and that the sluggish man--the man "who roasteth not that which he took +in hunting"--will not prosper on the earth, and indeed will very soon +perish out of it: and in consequence an inability to stay quiet, an +irritable desire to act directly, is one of the most conspicuous +failings of mankind. + +Pascal said that most of the evils of life arose from "man's being +unable to sit still in a room"; and though I do not go that length, it +is certain that we should have been a far wiser race than we are if we +had been readier to sit quiet,--we should have known much better the way +in which it was best to act when we came to act. The rise of physical +science, the first great body of practical truth provable to all men, +exemplifies this in the plainest way: if it had not been for quiet +people who sat still and studied the sections of the cone, if other +quiet people had not sat still and studied the theory of infinitesimals, +or other quiet people had not sat still and worked out the doctrine of +chances (the most "dreamy moonshine," as the purely practical mind +would consider, of all human pursuits), if "idle star-gazers" had not +watched long and carefully the motions of the heavenly bodies,--our +modern astronomy would have been impossible, and without our astronomy +"our ships, our colonies, our seamen," all which makes modern life +modern life, could not have existed. Ages of sedentary, quiet, thinking +people were required before that noisy existence began, and without +those pale preliminary students it never could have been brought into +being. And nine-tenths of modern science is in this respect the same: it +is the produce of men whom their contemporaries thought dreamers, who +were laughed at for caring for what did not concern them, who as the +proverb went "walked into a well from looking at the stars," who were +believed to be useless if any one could be such. And the conclusion is +plain that if there had been more such people, if the world had not +laughed at those there were, if rather it had encouraged them, there +would have been a great accumulation of proved science ages before there +was. It was the irritable activity, the "wish to be doing something," +that prevented it,--most men inherited a nature too eager and too +restless to be quiet and find out things: and even worse, with their +idle clamor they "disturbed the brooding hen"; they would not let those +be quiet who wished to be so, and out of whose calm thought much good +might have come forth. + +If we consider how much science has done and how much it is doing for +mankind, and if the over-activity of men is proved to be the cause why +science came so late into the world and is so small and scanty still, +that will convince most people that our over-activity is a very great +evil; but this is only part and perhaps not the greatest part, of the +harm that over-activity does. As I have said, it is inherited from times +when life was simple, objects were plain, and quick action generally led +to desirable ends: if A kills B before B kills A, then A survives, and +the human race is a race of A's. But the issues of life are plain no +longer: to act rightly in modern society requires a great deal of +previous study, a great deal of assimilated information, a great deal of +sharpened imagination; and these prerequisites of sound action require +much time, and I was going to say much "lying in the sun," a long period +of "mere passiveness." + +[Argument to show that the same vice of impatience damages war, +philanthropy, commerce, and even speculation.] + +But it will be said, What has government by discussion to do with these +things? will it prevent them, or even mitigate them? It can and does do +both, in the very plainest way. If you want to stop instant and +immediate action, always make it a condition that the action shall not +begin till a considerable number of persons have talked over it and have +agreed on it. If those persons be people of different temperaments, +different ideas, and different educations, you have an almost infallible +security that nothing or almost nothing will be done with excessive +rapidity. Each kind of persons will have their spokesman; each spokesman +will have his characteristic objection and each his characteristic +counter-proposition: and so in the end nothing will probably be done, or +at least only the minimum which is plainly urgent. In many cases this +delay may be dangerous, in many cases quick action will be preferable; a +campaign, as Macaulay well says, cannot be directed by a "debating +society," and many other kinds of action also require a single and +absolute general: but for the purpose now in hand--that of preventing +hasty action and insuring elaborate consideration--there is no device +like a polity of discussion. + +The enemies of this object--the people who want to act quickly--see this +very distinctly: they are forever explaining that the present is "an age +of committees," that the committees do nothing, that all evaporates in +talk. Their great enemy is parliamentary government: they call it, after +Mr. Carlyle, the "national palaver"; they add up the hours that are +consumed in it and the speeches which are made in it, and they sigh for +a time when England might again be ruled, as it once was, by a +Cromwell,--that is, when an eager absolute man might do exactly what +other eager men wished, and do it immediately. All these invectives are +perpetual and many-sided; they come from philosophers each of whom wants +some new scheme tried, from philanthropists who want some evil abated, +from revolutionists who want some old institution destroyed, from +new-eraists who want their new era started forthwith: and they all are +distinct admissions that a polity of discussion is the greatest +hindrance to the inherited mistake of human nature,--to the desire to +act promptly, which in a simple age is so excellent, but which in a +later and complex time leads to so much evil. + +The same accusation against our age sometimes takes a more general form: +it is alleged that our energies are diminishing, that ordinary and +average men have not the quick determination nowadays which they used to +have when the world was younger, that not only do not committees and +parliaments act with rapid decisiveness, but that no one now so acts; +and I hope that in fact this is true, for according to me it proves that +the hereditary barbaric impulse is decaying and dying out. So far from +thinking the quality attributed to us a defect, I wish that those who +complain of it were far more right than I much fear they are. Still, +certainly, eager and violent action _is_ somewhat diminished, though +only by a small fraction of what it ought to be; and I believe that this +is in great part due, in England at least, to our government by +discussion, which has fostered a general intellectual tone, a diffused +disposition to weigh evidence, a conviction that much may be said on +every side of everything which the elder and more fanatic ages of the +world wanted. This is the real reason why our energies seem so much less +than those of our fathers. When we have a definite end in view, which we +know we want and which we think we know how to obtain, we can act well +enough: the campaigns of our soldiers are as energetic as any campaigns +ever were; the speculations of our merchants have greater promptitude, +greater audacity, greater vigor than any such speculations ever had +before. In old times a few ideas got possession of men and communities, +but this is happily now possible no longer: we see how incomplete these +old ideas were; how almost by chance one seized on one nation and +another on another; how often one set of men have persecuted another set +for opinions on subjects of which neither, we now perceive, knew +anything. It might be well if a greater number of effectual +demonstrations existed among mankind: but while no such demonstrations +exist, and while the evidence which completely convinces one man seems +to another trifling and insufficient, let us recognize the plain +position of inevitable doubt; let us not be bigots with a doubt and +persecutors without a creed. We are beginning to see this, and we are +railed at for so beginning: but it is a great benefit, and it is to the +incessant prevalence of detective discussion that our doubts are due; +and much of that discussion is due to the long existence of a government +requiring constant debates, written and oral. + + +ORIGIN OF DEPOSIT BANKING + +From 'Lombard Street' + +In the last century, a favorite subject of literary ingenuity was +"conjectural history," as it was then called: upon grounds of +probability, a fictitious sketch was made of the possible origin of +things existing. If this kind of speculation were now applied to +banking, the natural and first idea would be that large systems of +deposit banking grew up in the early world just as they grow up now in +any large English colony. As soon as any such community becomes rich +enough to have much money, and compact enough to be able to lodge its +money in single banks, it at once begins so to do. English colonists do +not like the risk of keeping their money, and they wish to make an +interest on it; they carry from home the idea and the habit of banking, +and they take to it as soon as they can in their new world. Conjectural +history would be inclined to say that all banking began thus; but such +history is rarely of any value,--the basis of it is false. It assumes +that what works most easily when established is that which it would be +the most easy to establish, and that what seems simplest when familiar +would be most easily appreciated by the mind though unfamiliar; but +exactly the contrary is true,--many things which seem simple, and which +work well when firmly established, are very hard to establish among new +people and not very easy to explain to them. Deposit banking is of this +sort. Its essence is, that a very large number of persons agree to trust +a very few persons, or some one person: banking would not be a +profitable trade if bankers were not a small number, and depositors in +comparison an immense number. But to get a great number of persons to do +exactly the same thing is always very difficult, and nothing but a very +palpable necessity will make them on a sudden begin to do it; and there +is no such palpable necessity in banking. + +If you take a country town in France, even now, you will not find any +such system of banking as ours: check-books are unknown, and money kept +on running account by bankers is rare: people store their money in a +_caisse_ at their houses. Steady savings, which are waiting for +investment and which are sure not to be soon wanted, may be lodged with +bankers; but the common floating cash of the community is kept by the +community themselves at home,--they prefer to keep it so, and it would +not answer a banker's purpose to make expensive arrangements for keeping +it otherwise. If a "branch," such as the National Provincial Bank opens +in an English country town, were opened in a corresponding French one, +it would not pay its expenses: you could not get any sufficient number +of Frenchmen to agree to put their money there. + +And so it is in all countries not of British descent, though in various +degrees. Deposit banking is a very difficult thing to begin, because +people do not like to let their money out of their sight; especially, do +not like to let it out of sight without security; still more, cannot all +at once agree on any single person to whom they are content to trust it +unseen and unsecured. Hypothetical history, which explains the past by +what is simplest and commonest in the present, is in banking, as in most +things, quite untrue. + +The real history is very different. New wants are mostly supplied by +adaptation, not by creation or foundation; something having been created +to satisfy an extreme want, it is used to satisfy less pressing wants or +to supply additional conveniences. On this account, political +government, the oldest institution in the world, has been the hardest +worked: at the beginning of history, we find it doing everything which +society wants done and forbidding everything which society does _not_ +wish done. In trade, at present, the first commerce in a new place is a +general shop, which, beginning with articles of real necessity, comes +shortly to supply the oddest accumulation of petty comforts. And the +history of banking has been the same: the first banks were not founded +for our system of deposit banking, or for anything like it; they were +founded for much more pressing reasons, and having been founded, they or +copies from them were applied to our modern uses. + +[Gives a sketch of banks started as finance companies to make or float +government loans, and to give good coin; and sketches their function of +remitting money.] + +These are all uses other than those of deposit banking, which banks +supplied that afterwards became in our English sense deposit banks: by +supplying these uses, they gained the credit that afterwards enabled +them to gain a living as deposit banks; being trusted for one purpose, +they came to be trusted for a purpose quite different,--ultimately far +more important, though at first less keenly pressing. But these wants +only affect a few persons, and therefore bring the bank under the notice +of a few only. The real introductory function which deposit banks at +first perform is much more popular; and it is only when they can perform +this most popular kind of business that deposit banking ever spreads +quickly and extensively. + +This function is the supply of the paper circulation to the country; and +it will be observed that I am not about to overstep my limits and +discuss this as a question of currency. In what form the best paper +currency can be supplied to a country is a question of economical theory +with which I do not meddle here: I am only narrating unquestionable +history, not dealing with an argument where every step is disputed; and +part of this certain history is, that the best way to diffuse banking in +a community is to allow the banker to issue bank notes of small amount +that can supersede the metal currency. This amounts to a subsidy to each +banker to enable him to keep open a bank till depositors choose to +come to it.... + +The reason why the use of bank paper commonly precedes the habit of +making deposits in banks is very plain: it is a far easier habit to +establish. In the issue of notes the banker, the person to be most +benefited, can do something,--he can pay away his own "promises" in +loans, in wages, or in payment of debts,--but in the getting of deposits +he is passive; his issues depend on himself, his deposits on the favor +of others. And to the public the change is far easier too: to collect a +great mass of deposits with the same banker, a great number of persons +must agree to do something; but to establish a note circulation, a large +number of persons need only _do nothing_,--they receive the banker's +notes in the common course of their business, and they have only _not_ +to take those notes to the banker for payment. If the public refrain +from taking trouble, a paper circulation is immediately in existence. A +paper circulation is begun by the banker, and requires no effort on the +part of the public,--on the contrary, it needs an effort of the public +to be rid of notes once issued; but deposit banking cannot be begun by +the banker, and requires a spontaneous and consistent effort in the +community: and therefore paper issue is the natural prelude to +deposit banking. + + + + +JENS BAGGESEN + +(1764-1826) + + +Jens Baggesen was born in the little Danish town Korsoer in 1764, and +died in exile in the year 1826. Thus he belonged to two centuries and to +two literary periods. He had reached manhood when the French Revolution +broke out; he witnessed Napoleon's rise, his victories, and his fall. He +was a full contemporary of Goethe, who survived him only six years; he +saw English literature glory in men like Byron and Moore, and lived to +hear of Byron's death in Greece. In his first works he stood a true +representative of the culture and literature of the eighteenth century, +and was hailed as its exponent by the Danish poet Herman Wessel; towards +the end of the century he was acknowledged to be the greatest of living +Danish poets. Then with the new age came the Norwegian, Henrik Steffens, +with his enthusiastic lectures on German romanticism, calling out the +genius of Oehlenschlaeger, and the eighteenth century was doomed; +Baggesen nevertheless greeted Oehlenschlaeger with sincere admiration, +and when the 'Aladdin' of that poet appeared, Baggesen sent him his +rhymed letter 'From Nureddin-Baggesen to Aladdin-Oehlenschlaeger.' + +[Illustration: Jens Baggesen.] + +Baggesen was the son of poor people, and strangers helped him to his +scientific education. When his first works were recognized he became the +friend and protege of the Duke of Augustenborg, who provided him with +the means for an extended journey through the Continent, during which he +met the greatest men of his time. The Duke of Augustenborg meanwhile +secured him several positions, which could not hold him for any length +of time, nor keep him at home in Denmark. He went abroad a second time +to study pedagogics, literature, and philosophy, came home again, +wandered forth once more, returned a widower, was for some time director +of the National Theatre in Copenhagen; but found no rest, married again, +and in 1800 went to France to live. Eleven years later he was professor +in Kiel, returning thence to Copenhagen, where meanwhile his fame had +been eclipsed by the genius of Oehlenschlaeger. Secure in the knowledge +of his powers, Oehlenschlaeger had carelessly published two or three +dramatic poems not worthy of his pen, and Baggesen entered on a violent +controversy with him in which he stood practically by himself against +the entire reading public, whose sympathies were with Oehlenschlaeger. +Alone and misunderstood, restless and unhappy, he left Denmark in 1820, +never to return. Six years later he died, longing to see his country +again, but unable to reach it. + +His first poetry was published in 1785, a volume of 'Comic Tales,' which +made its mark at once. The following year appeared in quick succession +satires, rhymed epistles, and elegies, which, adding to his fame, added +also to the purposeless ferment and unrest which had taken possession of +him. He considered tragedy his proper field, yet had allowed himself to +appear as humorist and satirist. + +When the great historic events of the time took place, and over-threw +all existing conditions, this inner restlessness drove him to and fro +without purpose or will. One day he was enthusiastic over Voss's idyls, +the next he was carried away by Robespierre's wildest speeches. One year +he adopted Kant's Christian name Immanuel in transport over his works, +the next he called the great philosopher "an empty nut, and moreover +hard to crack." The romanticism in Denmark as well as in Germany reduced +him to a state of utter confusion; but in spite of this he continued a +child of the old order, which was already doomed. And with all his +unrest and discord he remained nevertheless the champion of "form," "the +poet of the graces," as he has been called. + +This gift of form has given him his literary importance. He built a +bridge from the eighteenth to the nineteenth century; and when the new +romantic school overstepped its privileges, it was he who called it to +order. The most conspicuous act of his literary life was the controversy +with Oehlenschlaeger, and the wittiest product of his pen is the reckless +criticism of Oehlenschlaeger's opera 'Ludlam's Cave.' Johann Ludvig +Heiberg, the greatest analytical critic of whom Denmark can boast, +remained Baggesen's ardent admirer; and Heiberg's influential although +not always just criticism of Oehlenschlaeger as a poet was no doubt +called forth by Baggesen's attack. Some years later Henrik Hertz made +Baggesen his subject. In 1830 appeared 'Letters from Ghosts,' poetic +epistles from Paradise. Nobody knew that Hertz was the author. It was +Baggesen's voice from beyond the grave, Baggesen's criticism upon the +literature of 1830. It was one of the wittiest, and in versification one +of the best, books in Danish literature. + +Baggesen's most important prose work is 'The Labyrinth,' afterwards +called 'The Wanderings of a Poet.' It is a poetic description of his +journeys, unique in its way, rich in impressions and full of striking +remarks, written in a piquant, graceful, and easy style. + +As long as Danish literature remains, Baggesen's name will be known; +though his writings are not now widely read, and are important chiefly +because of their influence on the literary spirit of his own time. His +familiar poem 'There was a time when I was very little,' during the +controversy with Oehlenschlaeger, was seized upon by Paul Moeller, +parodied, and changed into 'There was a time when Jens was much bigger.' +Equally well known is his 'Ode to My Country,' with the +familiar lines:-- + + "Alas, in no place is the thorn as tiny, + Alas, in no place blooms as red a rose, + Alas, in no place is there couch as downy + As where we little children found repose." + + +A COSMOPOLITAN + +From 'The Labyrinth' + +Forster, a little nervous, alert, and piquant man, with gravity written +on his forehead, perspicacity in his eye, and love around his lips, +conquered me completely. I spoke to him of everything except his +journeys; but the traveler showed himself full of unmistakable humanity. +He seemed to me the cosmopolitan spirit personified. It was as if the +world were present when I was alone with him. + +We talked about his friend Jacobi, about the late King of Prussia, about +the literature of Germany, and about the present Pole-high standard of +taste. I was much pleased to find in him the art critic I sought. He +said that we must admire everything which is good and beautiful, whether +it originates West, East, South, or North. The taste of the bee is the +true one. Difference in language and climate, difference of nationality, +must not affect my interest in fair and noble things. The unknown repels +the animal, but should not repel the human creature. Suppose you say +that Voltaire is animal in comparison with Shakespeare or Klopstock, or +that they are animal in comparison with him: it is a blunder to demand +pears of an apple-tree, as it is ridiculous to throw away the apple +because it is not a pear. The entire world of nature teaches us this +aesthetic tolerance, and yet we have as little acquired it as we have +freedom of conscience. We plant white and red roses in the same bed, but +who puts the 'Messiah' and the 'Henriade' on the same shelf? He only +who reads neither the one nor the other. True religion worships God; +true taste worships the beautiful without regard of person or nation. +German? French? Italian? or English? All the same! But nothing mediocre. + +I was flushed with pleasure; I gave him my hand. "That may be said of +other things than poetry!" I said.--"Of all art!" he answered.--"Of all +that is human!" we both concluded. + +Deplorable indolence which clothes our mind in the first heavy cloak +ready to hand, so that all the sunbeams of the world cannot persuade us +to throw it off, much less to assume another! The man who is exclusively +a nationalist is a snail forever chained to his house. Psyche had wings +given her for a never-ending, eternal flight. We may not imprison her, +be the cage ever so large. + +He considered that Lessing had wronged the great representative of the +French language; and the remark of Claudius, "Voltaire says he weeps, +and Shakespeare does weep," appeared to him like the saying, "Much that +is new and beautiful has M. Arouet said; but it is a pity that the +beautiful is not new and the new not beautiful,"--more witty than true. +The English think that Shakespeare, as the Germans think that Lessing, +really weeps; the French think the same of Voltaire. But the first weeps +for the whole world, it is said, the last only for his own people. What +the French call "Le Nord" is, to be sure, rather a large territory, but +not the entire world! France calls "whimpering" in one case and +"blubbering" in another what we call weeping. The general mistake is +that we do not understand the nature of the people and the language, in +which and for whom the weeping is done. + +We must be English when we read Shakespeare, German when we read +Klopstock, French when we read Voltaire. The man whose soul cannot shed +its national costume and don that of other nations ought not to read, +much less to judge, their masterpieces. He will be looking at the moon +by day and at the sun by night, and see the first without lustre and the +last not at all. + + +PHILOSOPHY ON THE HEATH + +From 'The Labyrinth' + +Caillard was a man of experience, taste, and knowledge. He told me the +story of his life from beginning to end, he confided to me his +principles and his affairs, and I took him to be the happiest man in the +world. "I have everything," he said, "all that I have wished for or can +wish for: health, riches, domestic peace (being unmarried), a tolerably +good conscience, books--and as much sense as I need to enjoy them. I +experience only one single want, lack only one single pleasure in this +world; but that one is enough to embitter my life and class me with +other unfortunates." + +I could not guess what might yet be wanting to such a man under such +conditions, "It cannot be liberty," I said, "for how can a rich merchant +in a free town lack this?" + +"No! Heaven save me--I neither would nor could live one single day +without liberty." + +"You do not happen to be in love with some cruel or unhappy princess?" + +"That is still less the case." + +"Ah!--now I have it, no doubt--your soul is consumed with a thirst for +truth, for a satisfactory answer to the many questions which are but +philosophic riddles. You are seeking what so many brave men from +Anaxagoras to Spinoza have sought in vain--the corner-stone of +philosophy, the foundation of the structure of our ideas." + +He assured me that in this respect he was quite at ease. "Then, in spite +of your good health, you must be subject to that miserable thing, a cold +in the head?" I said. + + "Uno minor--Jove, dives + Liber, honoratus, pulcher rex denique regum, + Praecipue sanus--nisi cum pituita molesta est." + +--HORACE. + +When he denied this too, I gave up trying to solve the meaning of his +dark words. + +O happiness! of all earthly chimeras thou art the most chimerical! I +would rather seek dry figs on the bottom of the sea and fresh ones on +this heath,--I would rather seek liberty, or truth itself, or the +philosopher's stone, than to run after thee, most deceitful of lights, +will-o'-the-wisp of our human life! + +I thought that at last I had found a perfectly happy, an enviable man; +and now--behold! though I have not the ten-thousandth part of his +wealth, though I have not the tenth part of his health, though I may not +have a third of his intellect, although I have all the wants which he +has not and the one want under which he suffers, yet I would not change +places with him! + +From this moment he was the object of my sincerest pity. But what did +this awful curse prove to be? Listen and tremble! + +"Of what use is it all to me?" he said: "coffee, which I love more than +all the wines of this earth and more than all the women of this earth, +coffee which I love madly--coffee is forbidden me!" + +Laugh who lists! Inasmuch as everything in this world, viewed in a +certain light, is tragic, it would be excusable to weep: but inasmuch as +everything viewed in another light is comic, a little laughter could not +be taken amiss; only beware of laughing at the sigh with which my happy +man pronounced these words, for it might be that in laughing at +him you laugh at yourself, your father, your grandfather, your +great-grandfather, your great-great-grandfather, and so on, including +your entire family as far back as Adam. + +If, in laughing at such discontent, you laugh in advance at your son, +your son's son's son, and so forth to the last descendant of your entire +family, this is a matter which I do not decide. It will depend upon the +road humanity chooses to take. If it continues as it is going, some +coffee-want or other will forever strew it with thorns. + +Had he said, "Chocolate is forbidden me," or tea, or English ale, or +madeira, or strawberries, you would have found his misery +equally absurd. + +The great Alexander is said to have wept because he found no more worlds +to conquer. The man who bemoans the loss of a world and the man who +bemoans the loss of coffee are to my mind equally unbalanced and equally +in need of forgiveness. The desire for a cup of coffee and the desire +for a crown, the hankering after the flavor or even the fragrance of the +drink and the hankering after fame, are equally mad and equally--human. + +If history is to be believed, Adam possessed all the advantages and +comforts, all the necessities and luxuries a first man could reasonably +demand.... Lord of all living things, and sharing his dominion with his +beloved, what did he lack? + +Among ten thousand pleasures, the fruit of one single tree was forbidden +him. Good-by content and peace! Good-by forever all his bliss! + +I acknowledge that I should have yielded to the same temptation; and he +who does not see that this fate would have overtaken his entire family, +past and to come, may have studied all things from the Milky Way in the +sky to the milky way in his kitchen, may have studied all stones, +plants, and animals, and all folios and quartos dealing therewith, but +never himself or man. + +As we do not know the nature of the fruit which Adam could not do +without, it may as well have been coffee as any other. That it was +pleasant to the eyes means no more than that it was forbidden. Every +forbidden thing is pleasant to the eyes. + +"Of what use is it all to me?" said Adam, looking around him in Eden, at +the rising sun, the blushing hills, the light-green forest, the glorious +waterfall, the laden fruit-trees, and, most beautiful of all, the +smiling woman--"of what use is it all to me, when I dare not taste +this--coffee bean?" + +"And of what use is it all to me?" said Mr. Caillard, and looked around +him on the Lueneburg heath: "coffee is forbidden me; one single cup of +coffee would kill me." + +"If it will be any comfort to you," I said, "I may tell you that I am in +the same case." "And you do not despair at times?"--"No," I replied, +"for it is not my only want. If like you I had everything else in life, +I also might despair." + + + THERE WAS A TIME WHEN I WAS VERY LITTLE + + There was a time, when I, an urchin slender, + Could hardly boast of having any height. + Oft I recall those days with feelings tender; + With smiles, and yet the tear-drops dim my sight. + + Within my tender mother's arms I sported, + I played at horse upon my grandsire's knee; + Sorrow and care and anger, ill-reported, + As little known as gold or Greek, to me. + + The world was little to my childish thinking, + And innocent of sin and sinful things; + I saw the stars above me flashing, winking-- + To fly and catch them, how I longed for wings! + + I saw the moon behind the hills declining, + And thought, O were I on yon lofty ground, + I'd learn the truth; for here there's no divining + How large it is, how beautiful, how round! + + In wonder, too, I saw God's sun pursuing + His westward course, to ocean's lap of gold; + And yet at morn the East he was renewing + With wide-spread, rosy tints, this artist old. + + Then turned my thoughts to God the Father gracious, + Who fashioned me and that great orb on high, + And the night's jewels, decking heaven spacious; + From pole to pole its arch to glorify. + + With childish piety my lips repeated + The prayer learned at my pious mother's knee: + Help me remember, Jesus, I entreated, + That I must grow up good and true to Thee! + + Then for the household did I make petition, + For kindred, friends, and for the town's folk, last; + The unknown King, the outcast, whose condition + Darkened my childish joy, as he slunk past. + + All lost, all vanished, childhood's days so eager! + My peace, my joy with them have fled away; + I've only memory left: possession meagre; + Oh, never may that leave me, Lord, I pray. + + + + +PHILIP JAMES BAILEY + +(1816-) + + +In Bailey we have a striking instance of the man whose reputation is +made suddenly by a single work, which obtains an amazing popularity, and +which is presently almost forgotten except as a name. When in 1839 the +long poem 'Festus' appeared, its author was an unknown youth, who had +hardly reached his majority. Within a few months he was a celebrity. +That so dignified and suggestive a performance should have come from so +young a poet was considered a marvel of precocity by the literary world, +both English and American. + +The author of 'Festus' was born at Basford, Nottinghamshire, England, +April 22nd, 1816. Educated at the public schools of Nottingham, and at +Glasgow University, he studied law, and at nineteen entered Lincoln's +Inn. In 1840 he was admitted to the bar. But his vocation in life +appears to have been metaphysical and spiritual rather than legal. + +His 'Festus: a Poem,' containing fifty-five episodes or successive +scenes,--some thirty-five thousand lines,--was begun in his twentieth +year. Three years later it was in the hands of the English reading +public. Like Goethe's 'Faust' in pursuing the course of a human soul +through influences emanating from the Supreme Good and the Supreme Evil; +in having Heaven and the World as its scene; in its inclusion of God and +the Devil, the Archangels and Angels, the Powers of Perdition, and +withal many earthly types in its action,--it is by no means a mere +imitation of the great German. Its plan is wider. It incorporates even +more impressive spiritual material than 'Faust' offers. Not only is its +mortal hero, Festus, conducted through an amazing pilgrimage, spiritual +and redeemed by divine Love, but we have in the poem a conception of +close association with Christianity, profound ethical suggestions, a +flood of theology and philosophy, metaphysics and science, picturing +Good and Evil, love and hate, peace and war, the past, the present, and +the future, earth, heaven, and hell, heights and depths, dominions, +principalities, and powers, God and man, the whole of being and of +not-being,--all in an effort to unmask the last and greatest secrets of +Infinity. And more than all this, 'Festus' strives to portray the +sufficiency of Divine Love and of the Divine Atonement to dissipate, +even to annihilate, Evil. For even Lucifer and the hosts of darkness are +restored to purity and to peace among the Sons of God, the Children of +Light! The Love of God is set forth as limitless. We have before us the +birth of matter at the Almighty's fiat; and we close the work with the +salvation and ecstasy--described as decreed from the Beginning--of +whatever creature hath been given a spiritual existence, and made a +spiritual subject and agency. There is in the doctrine of 'Festus' no +such thing as the "Son of Perdition" who shall be an ultimate castaway. + +Few English poems have attracted more general notice from all +intelligent classes of readers than did 'Festus' on its advent. +Orthodoxy was not a little aghast at its theologic suggestions. +Criticism of it as a literary production was hampered not a little by +religious sensitiveness. The London Literary Gazette said of it:--"It is +an extraordinary production, out-Heroding Kant in some of its +philosophy, and out-Goetheing Goethe in the introduction of the Three +Persons of the Trinity as interlocutors in its wild plot. Most +objectionable as it is on this account, it yet contains so many +exquisite passages of genuine poetry, that our admiration of the +author's genius overpowers the feeling of mortification at its being +misapplied, and meddling with such dangerous topics." The advance of +liberal ideas within the churches has diminished such criticism, but the +work is still a stumbling-block to the less speculative of sectaries. + +The poem is far too long, and its scope too vast for even a genius of +much higher and riper gifts than Bailey's. It is turgid, untechnical in +verse, wordy, and involved. Had Bailey written at fifty instead of at +twenty, it might have shown a necessary balance and felicity of style. +But, with all these shortcomings, it is not to be relegated to the +library of things not worth the time to know, to the list of bulky +poetic failures. Its author blossomed and fruited marvelously early; so +early and with such unlooked-for fruit that the unthinking world, which +first received him with exaggerated honor, presently assailed him with +undue dispraise. 'Festus' is not mere solemn and verbose commonplace. +Here and there it has passages of great force and even of high beauty. +The author's whole heart and brain were poured into it, and neither was +a common one. With all its ill-based daring and manifest crudities, it +was such a _tour de force_ for a lad of twenty as the world seldom sees. +Its sluggish current bears along remarkable knowledge, great reflection, +and the imagination of a fertile as well as a precocious brain. It is a +stream which carries with it things new and old, and serves to stir the +mind of the onlooker with unwonted thoughts. Were it but one fourth as +long, it would still remain a favorite poem. Even now it has passed +through numerous editions, and been but lately republished in sumptuous +form after fifty years of life; and in the catalogue of higher +metaphysico-religious poetry it will long maintain an honorable place. +It is cited here among the books whose fame rather than whose importance +_demand_ recognition. + + + FROM 'FESTUS' + + LIFE + + _Festus_-- Men's callings all + Are mean and vain; their wishes more so: oft + The man is bettered by his part or place. + How slight a chance may raise or sink a soul! + + _Lucifer_--What men call accident is God's own part. + He lets ye work your will--it is his own: + But that ye mean not, know not, do not, he doth. + + _Festus_--What is life worth without a heart to feel + The great and lovely harmonies which time + And nature change responsive, all writ out + By preconcertive hand which swells the strain + To divine fulness; feel the poetry, + The soothing rhythm of life's fore-ordered lay; + The sacredness of things?--for all things are + Sacred so far,--the worst of them, as seen + By the eye of God, they in the aspect bide + Of holiness: nor shall outlaw sin be slain, + Though rebel banned, within the sceptre's length; + But privileged even for service. Oh! to stand + Soul-raptured, on some lofty mountain-thought, + And feel the spirit expand into a view + Millennial, life-exalting, of a day + When earth shall have all leisure for high ends + Of social culture; ends a liberal law + And common peace of nations, blent with charge + Divine, shall win for man, were joy indeed: + Nor greatly less, to know what might be now, + Worked will for good with power, for one brief hour. + But look at these, these individual souls: + How sadly men show out of joint with man! + There are millions never think a noble thought; + But with brute hate of brightness bay a mind + Which drives the darkness out of them, like hounds. + Throw but a false glare round them, and in shoals + They rush upon perdition: that's the race. + What charm is in this world-scene to such minds? + Blinded by dust? What can they do in heaven, + A state of spiritual means and ends? + Thus must I doubt--perpetually doubt. + + _Lucifer_--Who never doubted never half believed. + Where doubt, there truth is--'tis her shadow. I + Declare unto thee that the past is not. + I have looked over all life, yet never seen + The age that had been. Why then fear or dream + About the future? Nothing but what is, is; + Else God were not the Maker that he seems, + As constant in creating as in being. + Embrace the present. Let the future pass. + Plague not thyself about a future. That + Only which comes direct from God, his spirit, + Is deathless. Nature gravitates without + Effort; and so all mortal natures fall + Deathwards. All aspiration is a toil; + But inspiration cometh from above, + And is no labor. The earth's inborn strength + Could never lift her up to yon stars, whence + She fell; nor human soul, by native worth, + Claim heaven as birthright, more than man may call + Cloudland his home. The soul's inheritance, + Its birth-place, and its death-place, is of earth; + Until God maketh earth and soul anew; + The one like heaven, the other like himself. + So shall the new creation come at once; + Sin, the dead branch upon the tree of life + Shall be cut off forever; and all souls + Concluded in God's boundless amnesty. + + _Festus_--Thou windest and unwindest faith at will. + What am I to believe? + + _Lucifer_-- Thou mayest believe + But that thou art forced to. + + _Festus_-- Then I feel, perforce, + That instinct of immortal life in me, + Which prompts me to provide for it. + + _Lucifer_-- Perhaps. + _Festus_--Man hath a knowledge of a time to come-- + His most important knowledge: the weight lies + Nearest the short end; and the world depends + Upon what is to be. I would deny + The present, if the future. Oh! there is + A life to come, or all's a dream. + + _Lucifer_--And all + May be a dream. Thou seest in thine, men, deeds, + Clear, moving, full of speech and order; then + Why may not all this world be but a dream + Of God's? Fear not! Some morning God may waken. + + _Festus_--I would it were. This life's a mystery. + The value of a thought cannot be told; + But it is clearly worth a thousand lives + Like many men's. And yet men love to live + As if mere life were worth their living for. + What but perdition will it be to most? + Life's more than breath and the quick round of blood; + It is a great spirit and a busy heart. + The coward and the small in soul scarce do live. + One generous feeling--one great thought--one deed + Of good, ere night, would make life longer seem + Than if each year might number a thousand days, + Spent as is this by nations of mankind. + We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; + In feelings, not in figures on a dial. + We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives + Who thinks most--feels the noblest--acts the best. + Life's but a means unto an end--that end + Beginning, mean, and end to all things--God. + The dead have all the glory of the world. + Why will we live and not be glorious? + We never can be deathless till we die. + It is the dead win battles. And the breath + Of those who through the world drive like a wedge, + Tearing earth's empires up, nears Death so close + It dims his well-worn scythe. But no! the brave + Die never. Being deathless, they but change + Their country's arms for more--their country's heart. + Give then the dead their due: it is they who saved us. + The rapid and the deep--the fall, the gulph, + Have likenesses in feeling and in life. + And life, so varied, hath more loveliness + In one day than a creeping century + Of sameness. But youth loves and lives on change, + Till the soul sighs for sameness; which at last + Becomes variety, and takes its place. + Yet some will last to die out, thought by thought, + And power by power, and limb of mind by limb, + Like lamps upon a gay device of glass, + Till all of soul that's left be dry and dark; + Till even the burden of some ninety years + Hath crashed into them like a rock; shattered + Their system as if ninety suns had rushed + To ruin earth--or heaven had rained its stars; + Till they become like scrolls, unreadable, + Through dust and mold. Can they be cleaned and read? + Do human spirits wax and wane like moons? + + _Lucifer_--The eye dims, and the heart gets old and slow; + The lithe limbs stiffen, and the sun-hued locks + Thin themselves off, or whitely wither; still, + Ages not spirit, even in one point, + Immeasurably small; from orb to orb, + Rising in radiance ever like the sun + Shining upon the thousand lands of earth. + + + THE PASSING-BELL + + Clara--True prophet mayst thou be. But list: that sound + The passing-bell the spirit should solemnize; + For, while on its emancipate path, the soul + Still waves its upward wings, and we still hear + The warning sound, it is known, we well may pray. + + _Festus_--But pray for whom? + + _Clara_--It means not. Pray for all. + Pray for the good man's soul: + + He is leaving earth for heaven, + And it soothes us to feel that the best + May be forgiven. + + _Festus_--Pray for the sinful soul: + It fleeth, we know not where; + But wherever it be let us hope; + For God is there. + + _Clara_--Pray for the rich man's soul: + Not all be unjust, nor vain; + The wise he consoled; and he saved + The poor from pain. + + _Festus_--Pray for the poor man's soul: + The death of this life of ours + He hath shook from his feet; he is one + Of the heavenly powers. + + Pray for the old man's soul: + He hath labored long; through life + It was battle or march. He hath ceased, + Serene, from strife. + + _Clara_--Pray for the infant's soul: + With its spirit crown unsoiled, + He hath won, without war, a realm; + Gained all, nor toiled. + + _Festus_--Pray for the struggling soul: + The mists of the straits of death + Clear off; in some bright star-isle + It anchoreth. + + Pray for the soul assured: + Though it wrought in a gloomy mine, + Yet the gems it earned were its own, + That soul's divine. + + _Clara_--Pray for the simple soul: + For it loved, and therein was wise; + Though itself knew not, but with heaven + Confused the skies. + + _Festus_--Pray for the sage's soul: + 'Neath his welkin wide of mind + Lay the central thought of God, + Thought undefined. + + Pray for the souls of all + To our God, that all may be + With forgiveness crowned, and joy + Eternally. + + _Clara_--Hush! for the bell hath ceased; + And the spirit's fate is sealed; + To the angels known; to man + Best unrevealed. + + + THOUGHTS + + FESTUS--Well, farewell, Mr. Student. May you never + Regret those hours which make the mind, if they + Unmake the body; for the sooner we + Are fit to be all mind, the better. Blessed + Is he whose heart is the home of the great dead, + And their great thoughts. Who can mistake great thoughts + They seize upon the mind; arrest and search, + And shake it; bow the tall soul as by wind; + Rush over it like a river over reeds, + Which quaver in the current; turn us cold, + And pale, and voiceless; leaving in the brain + A rocking and a ringing; glorious, + But momentary, madness might it last, + And close the soul with heaven as with a seal! + In lieu of all these things whose loss thou mournest, + If earnestly or not I know not, use + The great and good and true which ever live; + And are all common to pure eyes and true. + Upon the summit of each mountain-thought + Worship thou God, with heaven-uplifted head + And arms horizon-stretched; for deity is seen + From every elevation of the soul. + Study the light; attempt the high; seek out + The soul's bright path; and since the soul is fire, + Of heat intelligential, turn it aye + To the all-Fatherly source of light and life; + Piety purifies the soul to see + Visions, perpetually, of grace and power, + Which, to their sight who in ignorant sin abide, + Are now as e'er incognizable. Obey + Thy genius, for a minister it is + Unto the throne of Fate. Draw towards thy soul, + And centralize, the rays which are around + Of the divinity. Keep thy spirit pure + From worldly taint, by the repellent strength + Of virtue. Think on noble thoughts and deeds, + Ever. Count o'er the rosary of truth; + And practice precepts which are proven wise, + It matters not then what thou fearest. Walk + Boldly and wisely in that light thou hast;-- + There is a hand above will help thee on. + I am an omnist, and believe in all + Religions; fragments of one golden world + To be relit yet, and take its place in heaven, + Where is the whole, sole truth, in deity. + Meanwhile, his word, his law, writ soulwise here, + Study; its truths love; practice its behests-- + They will be with thee when all else have gone. + Mind, body, passion all wear out; not faith + Nor truth. Keep thy heart cool, or rule its heat + To fixed ends; waste it not upon itself. + Not all the agony maybe of the damned + Fused in one pang, vies with that earthquake throb + Which wakens soul from life-waste, to let see + The world rolled by for aye, and we must wait + For our next chance the nigh eternity; + Whether it be in heaven, or elsewhere. + + + DREAMS + + FESTUS--The dead of night: earth seems but seeming; + The soul seems but a something dreaming. + The bird is dreaming in its nest, + Of song, and sky, and loved one's breast; + The lap-dog dreams, as round he lies, + In moonshine, of his mistress's eyes; + The steed is dreaming, in his stall, + Of one long breathless leap and fall; + The hawk hath dreamed him thrice of wings + Wide as the skies he may not cleave; + But waking, feels them clipped, and clings + Mad to the perch 'twere mad to leave: + The child is dreaming of its toys; + The murderer, of calm home joys; + The weak are dreaming endless fears; + The proud of how their pride appears; + The poor enthusiast who dies, + Of his life-dreams the sacrifice, + Sees, as enthusiast only can, + The truth that made him more than man; + And hears once more, in visioned trance, + That voice commanding to advance, + Where wealth is gained--love, wisdom won, + Or deeds of danger dared and done. + The mother dreameth of her child; + The maid of him who hath beguiled; + The youth of her he loves too well; + The good of God; the ill of hell; + Who live of death; of life who die; + The dead of immortality. + The earth is dreaming back her youth; + Hell never dreams, for woe is truth; + And heaven is dreaming o'er her prime, + Long ere the morning stars of time; + And dream of heaven alone can I, + My lovely one, when thou art nigh. + + + CHORUS OF THE SAVED + + From the Conclusion + + Father of goodness, + Son of love, + Spirit of comfort, + Be with us! + God who hast made us, + God who hast saved, + God who hast judged us, + Thee we praise. + Heaven our spirits, + Hallow our hearts; + Let us have God-light + Endlessly. + Ours is the wide world, + Heaven on heaven; + What have we done, Lord, + Worthy this? + Oh! we have loved thee; + That alone + Maketh our glory, + Duty, meed. + Oh! we have loved thee! + Love we will + Ever, and every + Soul of us. + God of the saved, + God of the tried, + God of the lost ones, + Be with all! + Let us be near thee + Ever and aye; + Oh! let us love thee + Infinite! + + + + +JOANNA BAILLIE + +(1762-1851) + + +Joanna Baillie's early childhood was passed at Bothwell, Scotland, where +she was born in 1762. Of this time she drew a picture in her well-known +birthday lines to her sister:-- + + "Dear Agnes, gleamed with joy, and dashed with tears, O'er us + have glided almost sixty years Since we on Bothwell's bonny + braes were seen, By those whose eyes long closed in death + have been: Two tiny imps, who scarcely stooped to gather The + slender harebell, or the purple heather; No taller than the + foxglove's spiky stem, That dew of morning studs with silvery + gem. Then every butterfly that crossed our view With joyful + shout was greeted as it flew, And moth and lady-bird and + beetle bright In sheeny gold were each a wondrous sight. Then + as we paddled barefoot, side by side, Among the sunny + shallows of the Clyde, Minnows or spotted par with twinkling + fin, Swimming in mazy rings the pool within, A thrill of + gladness through our bosoms sent Seen in the power of early + wonderment." + +[Illustration: JOANNA BAILLIE] + +When Joanna was six her father was appointed to the charge of the kirk +at Hamilton. Her early growth went on, not in books, but in the +fearlessness with which she ran upon the top of walls and parapets of +bridges and in all daring. "Look at Miss Jack," said a farmer, as she +dashed by: "she sits her horse as if it were a bit of herself." At +eleven she could not read well. "'Twas thou," she said in lines to +her sister-- + + "'Twas thou who woo'dst me first to look + Upon the page of printed book, + That thing by me abhorred, and with address + Didst win me from my thoughtless idleness, + When all too old become with bootless haste + In fitful sports the precious time to waste. + Thy love of tale and story was the stroke + At which my dormant fancy first awoke, + And ghosts and witches in my busy brain + Arose in sombre show, a motley train." + +In 1776 Dr. James Baillie was made Professor of Divinity at Glasgow +University. During the two years the family lived in the college +atmosphere, Joanna first read 'Comus,' and, led by the delight it +awakened, the great epic of Milton. It was here that her vigor and +disputatious turn of mind "cast an awe" over her companions. After her +father's death she settled, in 1784, with her mother and brother and +sister in London. + +She had made herself familiar with English literature, and above all she +had studied Shakespeare with enthusiasm. Circumscribed now by the brick +and mortar of London streets, in exchange for the fair views and +liberties of her native fruitlands, Joanna found her first expression in +a volume of 'Fugitive Verses,' published in 1790. The book caused so +little comment that the words of but one friendly hand are preserved: +that the poems were "truly unsophisticated representations of nature." + +Joanna's walk was along calm and unhurried ways. She could have had a +considerable place in society and the world of "lions" if she had cared. +The wife of her uncle and name-father, the anatomist Dr. John Hunter, +was no other than the famous Mrs. Anne Hunter, a songwright of genius; +her poem 'The Son of Alknomook Shall Never Complain' is one of the +classics of English song, and the best rendering of the Indian spirit +ever condensed into so small a space. She was also a woman of grace and +dignity, a power in London drawing-rooms, and Haydn set songs of hers to +music. But the reserved Joanna was tempted to no light triumphs. Eight +years later was published her first volume of 'Plays on the Passions.' +It contained 'Basil,' a tragedy on love; 'The Trial,' a comedy on the +same subject; and 'De Montfort,' a tragedy on hatred. + +The thought of essaying dramatic composition had burst upon the author +one summer afternoon as she sat sewing with her mother. She had a high +moral purpose in her plan of composition, she said in her preface,--that +purpose being the ultimate utterance of the drama. Plot and incident she +set little value upon, and she rejected the presentation of the most +splendid event if it did not appertain to the development of the +passion. In other words, what is and was commonly of secondary +consideration in the swift passage of dramatic action became in her +hands the stated and paramount object. Feeling and passion are _not_ +precipitated by incident in her drama as in real life. The play 'De +Montfort' was presented at Drury Lane Theatre in 1800; but in spite of +every effort and the acting of John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, it had a +run of but eleven nights. + +In 1802 Miss Baillie published her second volume of 'Plays on the +Passions.' It contained a comedy on hatred; 'Ethwald,' a tragedy on +ambition; and a comedy on ambition. Her adherence to her old plan +brought upon her an attack from Jeffrey in the Edinburgh Review. He +claimed that the complexity of the moral nature of man made Joanna's +theory false and absurd, that a play was too narrow to show the complete +growth of a passion, and that the end of the drama is the entertainment +of the audience. He asserted that she imitated and plagiarized +Shakespeare; while he admitted her insight into human nature, her grasp +of character, and her devotion to her work. + +About the time of the appearance of this volume, Joanna fixed her +residence with her mother and sister, among the lanes and fields of +Hampstead, where they continued throughout their lives. The first volume +of 'Miscellaneous Plays' came out in 1804. In the preface she stated +that her opinions set forth in her first preface were unchanged. But the +plays had a freer construction. "Miss Baillie," wrote Jeffrey in his +review, "cannot possibly write a tragedy, or an act of a tragedy, +without showing genius and exemplifying a more dramatic conception and +expression than any of her modern competitor" 'Constantine Palaeologus,' +which the volume contained, had the liveliest commendation and +popularity, and was several times put upon the stage with +spectacular effect. + +In the year of the publication of Joanna's 'Miscellaneous Plays,' Sir +Walter Scott came to London, and seeking an introduction through a +common friend, made the way for a lifelong friendship between the two, +He had just brought out 'The Lay of the Last Minstrel.' Miss Baillie was +already a famous writer, with fast friends in Lucy Aikin, Mary Berry, +Mrs. Siddons, and other workers in art and literature; but the hearty +commendation of her countryman, which she is said to have come upon +unexpectedly when reading 'Marmion' to a group of friends, she valued +beyond other praise. The legend is that she read through the passage +firmly to the close, and only lost self-control in her sympathy with the +emotion of a friend:-- + + "--The wild harp that silent hung + By silver Avon's holy shore + Till twice one hundred years rolled o'er, + When she the bold enchantress came, + From the pale willow snatched the treasure, + With fearless hand and heart in flame, + And swept it with a kindred measure; + Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove + With Montfort's hate and Basil's love, + Awakening at the inspired strain, + Deemed their own Shakespeare lived again." + +The year 1810 saw 'The Family Legend,' a play founded on a tragic +history of the Campbell clan. Scott wrote a prologue and brought out the +play in the Edinburgh Theatre. "You have only to imagine," he told the +author, "all that you could wish to give success to a play, and your +conceptions will still fall short of the complete and decided triumph of +'The Family Legend.'" + +The attacks which Jeffrey had made upon her verse were continued when +she published, in 1812, her third volume of 'Plays on the Passions.' His +voice, however, did not diminish the admiration for the +character-drawing with which the book was greeted, or for the lyric +outbursts occurring now and then in the dramas. + +Joanna's quiet Hampstead life was broken in 1813 by a genial meeting in +London with the ambitious Madame de Stael, and again with the vivacious +little Irishwoman, Maria Edgeworth. She was keeping her promise of not +writing more; but during a visit to Sir Walter in 1820 her imagination +was touched by Scotch tales, and she published 'Metrical Legends' the +following year. In this vast Abbotsford she finally consented to meet +Jeffrey. The plucky little writer and the unshrinking critic at once +became friends, and thenceforward Jeffrey never went to London without +visiting her in Hampstead. + +Her moral courage throughout life recalls the physical courage which +characterized her youth. She never concealed her religious convictions, +and in 1831 she published her ideas in 'A View of the General Tenor of +the New Testament Regarding the Nature and Dignity of Jesus Christ.' In +1836, having finally given up the long hope of seeing her plays become +popular upon the stage, she prepared a complete edition of her dramas +with the addition of three plays never before made public,--'Romiero,' a +tragedy, 'The Alienated Manor,' a comedy on jealousy, and 'Henriquez,' a +tragedy on remorse. The Edinburgh Review immediately put forth a +eulogistic notice of the collected edition, and at last admitted that +the reviewer had changed his judgment, and esteemed the author as a +dramatist above Byron and Scott. + +"May God support both you and me, and give us comfort and consolation +when it is most wanted," wrote Miss Baillie to Mary Berry in 1837. "As +for myself, I do not wish to be one year younger than I am; and have no +desire, were it possible, to begin life again, even under the most +honorable circumstances. I have great cause for humble thankfulness, and +I am thankful." + +In 1840 Jeffrey wrote:--"I have been twice out to Hampstead, and found +Joanna Baillie as fresh, natural, and amiable as ever, and as little +like a tragic muse." And again in 1842:--"She is marvelous in health and +spirit; not a bit deaf, blind, or torpid." About this time she published +her last book, a volume of 'Fugitive Verses.' + +"A sweeter picture of old age was never seen," wrote Harriet Martineau. +"Her figure was small, light, and active; her countenance, in its +expression of serenity, harmonized wonderfully with her gay conversation +and her cheerful voice. Her eyes were beautiful, dark, bright, and +penetrating, with the full innocent gaze of childhood. Her face was +altogether comely, and her dress did justice to it. She wore her own +silvery hair and a mob cap, with its delicate lace border fitting close +around her face. She was well dressed, in handsome dark silks, and her +lace caps and collars looked always new. No Quaker was ever neater, +while she kept up with the times in her dress as in her habit of mind, +as far as became her years. In her whole appearance there was always +something for even the passing stranger to admire, and never anything +for the most familiar friend to wish otherwise." She died, "without +suffering, in the full possession of her faculties," in her ninetieth +year, 1851. + +Her dramatic and poetical works are collected in one volume (1843). Her +Life, with selections from her songs, may be found in 'The Songstress of +Scotland,' by Sarah Tytler and J.L. Watson (1871). + + + WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A' + + The bride she is winsome and bonny, + Her hair it is snooded sae sleek, + And faithfu' and kind is her Johnny, + Yet fast fa' the tears on her cheek. + New pearlins are cause of her sorrow, + New pearlins and plenishing too: + The bride that has a' to borrow. + Has e'en right mickle ado. + Woo'd and married and a'! + Woo'd and married and a'! + Isna she very weel aff + To be woo'd and married at a'? + + Her mither then hastily spak:-- + "The lassie is glaikit wi' pride; + In my pouch I had never a plack + On the day when I was a bride. + E'en tak' to your wheel and be clever, + And draw out your thread in the sun; + The gear that is gifted, it never + Will last like the gear that is won. + Woo'd and married and a'! + Wi' havins and tocher sae sma'! + I think ye are very weel aff + To be woo'd and married at a'!" + + "Toot, toot!" quo' her gray-headed faither, + "She's less o' a bride than a bairn; + She's ta'en like a cout frae the heather, + Wi' sense and discretion to learn. + Half husband, I trow, and half daddy, + As humor inconstantly leans, + The chiel maun be patient and steady + That yokes wi' a mate in her teens. + A kerchief sae douce and sae neat, + O'er her locks that the wind used to blaw! + I'm baith like to laugh and to greet + When I think o' her married at a'." + + Then out spak' the wily bridegroom, + Weel waled were his wordies I ween:-- + "I'm rich, though my coffer be toom, + Wi' the blinks o' your bonny blue e'en. + I'm prouder o' thee by my side, + Though thy ruffles or ribbons be few, + Than if Kate o' the Croft were my bride, + Wi' purfles and pearlins enow. + Dear and dearest of ony! + Ye're woo'd and buiket and a'! + And do ye think scorn o' your Johnny, + And grieve to be married at a'?" + + She turn'd, and she blush'd, and she smil'd, + And she looket sae bashfully down; + The pride o' her heart was beguil'd, + And she played wi' the sleeves o' her gown; + She twirlet the tag o' her lace, + And she nippet her bodice sae blue, + Syne blinket sae sweet in his face, + And aff like a maukin she flew. + Woo'd and married and a'! + Wi' Johnny to roose her and a'! + She thinks hersel' very weel aff + To be woo'd and married at a'! + + + IT WAS ON A MORN WHEN WE WERE THRANG + + It was on a morn when we were thrang, + The kirn it croon'd, the cheese was making, + And bannocks on the girdle baking, + When ane at the door chapp't loud and lang. + Yet the auld gudewife, and her mays sae tight, + Of a' this bauld din took sma' notice I ween; + For a chap at the door in braid daylight + Is no like a chap that's heard at e'en. + + But the docksy auld laird of the Warlock glen, + Wha waited without, half blate, half cheery, + And langed for a sight o' his winsome deary, + Raised up the latch and cam' crousely ben. + His coat it was new, and his o'erlay was white, + His mittens and hose were cozie and bien; + But a wooer that comes in braid daylight + Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en. + + He greeted the carline and lasses sae braw, + And his bare lyart pow sae smoothly he straikit, + And he looket about, like a body half glaikit, + On bonny sweet Nanny, the youngest of a'. + "Ha, laird!" quo' the carline, "and look ye that way? + Fye, let na' sie fancies bewilder you clean: + An elderlin man, in the noon o' the day, + Should be wiser than youngsters that come at e'en. + + "Na, na," quo' the pawky auld wife, "I trow + You'll no fash your head wi' a youthfu' gilly, + As wild and as skeig as a muirland filly: + Black Madge is far better and fitter for you." + He hem'd and he haw'd, and he drew in his mouth, + And he squeezed the blue bannet his twa hands between; + For a wooer that comes when the sun's i' the south + Is mair landward than wooers that come at e'en. + + "Black Madge is sae carefu'"--"What's that to me?" + "She's sober and cydent, has sense in her noodle; + She's douce and respeckit"--"I carena a bodle: + Love winna be guided, and fancy's free." + Madge toss'd back her head wi' a saucy slight, + And Nanny, loud laughing, ran out to the green; + For a wooer that comes when the sun shines bright + Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en. + + Then away flung the laird, and loud mutter'd he, + "A' the daughters of Eve, between Orkney and Tweed O! + Black or fair, young or auld, dame or damsel or widow, + May gang in their pride to the de'il for me!" + But the auld gudewife, and her mays sae tight, + Cared little for a' his stour banning, I ween; + For a wooer that comes in braid daylight + Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en. + + + FY, LET US A' TO THE WEDDING + + (An Auld Sang, New Buskit) + + Fy, let us a' to the wedding, + For they will be lilting there; + For Jock's to be married to Maggy, + The lass wi' the gowden hair. + + And there will be jibing and jeering, + And glancing of bonny dark een, + Loud laughing and smooth-gabbit speering + O' questions baith pawky and keen. + + And there will be Bessy the beauty, + Wha raises her cockup sae hie, + And giggles at preachings and duty,-- + Guid grant that she gang na' ajee! + + And there will be auld Geordie Taunner, + Wha coft a young wife wi' his gowd; + She'll flaunt wi' a silk gown upon her, + But wow! he looks dowie and cow'd. + + And brown Tibbey Fouler the Heiress + Will perk at the tap o' the ha', + Encircled wi' suitors, wha's care is + To catch up her gloves when they fa',-- + + Repeat a' her jokes as they're cleckit, + And haver and glower in her face, + When tocherless mays are negleckit,-- + A crying and scandalous case. + + And Mysie, wha's clavering aunty + Wud match her wi' Laurie the Laird, + And learns the young fule to be vaunty, + But neither to spin nor to caird. + + And Andrew, wha's granny is yearning + To see him a clerical blade, + Was sent to the college for learning, + And cam' back a coof as he gaed. + + And there will be auld Widow Martin, + That ca's hersel thritty and twa! + And thraw-gabbit Madge, wha for certain + Was jilted by Hab o' the Shaw. + + And Elspy the sewster sae genty, + A pattern of havens and sense. + Will straik on her mittens sae dainty, + And crack wi' Mess John i' the spence. + + And Angus, the seer o' ferlies, + That sits on the stane at his door, + And tells about bogles, and mair lies + Than tongue ever utter'd before. + + And there will be Bauldy the boaster + Sae ready wi' hands and wi' tongue; + Proud Paty and silly Sam Foster, + Wha quarrel wi' auld and wi' young: + + And Hugh the town-writer, I'm thinking, + That trades in his lawerly skill, + Will egg on the fighting and drinking + To bring after-grist to his mill; + + And Maggy--na, na! we'll be civil, + And let the wee bridie a-be; + A vilipend tongue is the devil, + And ne'er was encouraged by me. + + Then fy, let us a' to the wedding, + For they will be lilting there + Frae mony a far-distant ha'ding, + The fun and the feasting to share. + + For they will get sheep's head, and haggis, + And browst o' the barley-mow; + E'en he that comes latest, and lag is, + May feast upon dainties enow. + + Veal florentines in the o'en baken, + Weel plenish'd wi' raisins and fat; + Beef, mutton, and chuckies, a' taken + Het reeking frae spit and frae pat: + + And glasses (I trow 'tis na' said ill), + To drink the young couple good luck, + Weel fill'd wi' a braw beechen ladle + Frae punch-bowl as big as Dumbuck. + + And then will come dancing and daffing, + And reelin' and crossin' o' hans, + Till even auld Lucky is laughing, + As back by the aumry she stans. + + Sic bobbing and flinging and whirling, + While fiddlers are making their din; + And pipers are droning and skirling + As loud as the roar o' the lin. + + Then fy, let us a' to the wedding, + For they will be lilting there, + For Jock's to be married to Maggy, + The lass wi' the gowden hair. + + + THE WEARY PUND O' TOW + + A young gudewife is in my house + And thrifty means to be, + But aye she's runnin' to the town + Some ferlie there to see. + The weary pund, the weary pund, the weary pund o' tow, + I soothly think, ere it be spun, I'll wear a lyart pow. + + And when she sets her to her wheel + To draw her threads wi' care, + In comes the chapman wi' his gear, + And she can spin nae mair. + The weary pund, etc. + + And she, like ony merry may, + At fairs maun still be seen, + At kirkyard preachings near the tent, + At dances on the green. + The weary pund, etc. + + Her dainty ear a fiddle charms, + A bagpipe's her delight, + But for the crooning o' her wheel + She disna care a mite. + The weary pund, etc. + + You spake, my Kate, of snaw-white webs, + Made o' your linkum twine, + But, ah! I fear our bonny burn + Will ne'er lave web o' thine. + The weary pund, etc. + + Nay, smile again, my winsome mate; + Sic jeering means nae ill; + Should I gae sarkless to my grave, + I'll lo'e and bless thee still. + The weary pund, etc. + + + FROM 'DE MONTFORT': A TRAGEDY + + ACT V--SCENE III + +_Moonlight. A wild path in a wood, shaded with trees. Enter _De Montfort_, +with a strong expression of disquiet, mixed with fear, upon his +face, looking behind him, and bending his ear to the ground, as if +he listened to something._ + + De Montfort--How hollow groans the earth beneath my tread: + Is there an echo here? Methinks it sounds + As though some heavy footsteps followed me. + I will advance no farther. + Deep settled shadows rest across the path, + And thickly-tangled boughs o'erhang this spot. + O that a tenfold gloom did cover it, + That 'mid the murky darkness I might strike! + As in the wild confusion of a dream, + Things horrid, bloody, terrible do pass, + As though they passed not; nor impress the mind + With the fixed clearness of reality. + + [_An owl is heard screaming near him._] + + [_Starting._] What sound is that? + + [_Listens, and the owl cries again._] + + It is the screech-owl's cry. + Foul bird of night! What spirit guides thee here? + Art thou instinctive drawn to scenes of horror? + I've heard of this. + [_Pauses and listens._] + How those fallen leaves so rustle on the path, + With whispering noise, as though the earth around me + Did utter secret things. + The distant river, too, bears to mine ear + A dismal wailing. O mysterious night! + Thou art not silent; many tongues hast thou. + A distant gathering blast sounds through the wood, + And dark clouds fleetly hasten o'er the sky; + Oh that a storm would rise, a raging storm; + Amidst the roar of warring elements + I'd lift my hand and strike! but this pale light, + The calm distinctness of each stilly thing, + Is terrible.--[_Starting._] Footsteps, and near me, too! + He comes! he comes! I'll watch him farther on-- + I cannot do it here. + [_Exit._] + +_Enter_ Rezenvelt, _and continues his way slowly from the bottom of the +stage; as he advances to the front, the owl screams, he stops and +listens, and the owl screams again._ + + _Rezenvelt_--Ha! does the night-bird greet me on my way? + How much his hooting is in harmony + With such a scene as this! I like it well. + Oft when a boy, at the still twilight hour, + I've leant my back against some knotted oak, + And loudly mimicked him, till to my call + He answer would return, and through the gloom + We friendly converse held. + Between me and the star-bespangled sky, + Those aged oaks their crossing branches wave, + And through them looks the pale and placid moon. + How like a crocodile, or winged snake, + Yon sailing cloud bears on its dusky length! + And now transformed by the passing wind, + Methinks it seems a flying Pegasus. + Ay, but a shapeless band of blacker hue + Comes swiftly after.-- + A hollow murm'ring wind sounds through the trees; + I hear it from afar; this bodes a storm. + I must not linger here-- + + [_A bell heard at some distance._] The convent bell. + 'Tis distant still: it tells their hour of prayer. + It sends a solemn sound upon the breeze, + That, to a fearful, superstitious mind, + In such a scene, would like a death-knell come. + [_Exit._] + + + TO MRS. SIDDONS + + Gifted of heaven! who hast, in days gone by, + Moved every heart, delighted every eye; + While age and youth, of high and low degree, + In sympathy were joined, beholding thee, + As in the Drama's ever-changing scene + Thou heldst thy splendid state, our tragic queen! + No barriers there thy fair domains confined, + Thy sovereign sway was o'er the human mind; + And in the triumph of that witching hour, + Thy lofty bearing well became thy power. + + The impassioned changes of thy beauteous face, + Thy stately form, and high imperial grace; + Thine arms impetuous tossed, thy robe's wide flow, + And the dark tempest gathered on thy brow; + What time thy flashing eye and lip of scorn + Down to the dust thy mimic foes have borne; + Remorseful musings, sunk to deep dejection, + The fixed and yearning looks of strong affection; + The active turmoil a wrought bosom rending, + When pity, love, and honor, are contending;-- + They who beheld all this, right well, I ween, + A lovely, grand, and wondrous sight have seen. + + Thy varied accents, rapid, fitful, slow, + Loud rage, and fear's snatched whisper, quick and low; + The burst of stifled love, the wail of grief, + And tones of high command, full, solemn, brief; + The change of voice, and emphasis that threw + Light on obscurity, and brought to view + Distinctions nice, when grave or comic mood, + Or mingled humors, terse and new, elude + Common perception, as earth's smallest things + To size and form the vesting hoar-frost brings, + That seemed as if some secret voice, to clear + The raveled meaning, whispered in thine ear, + And thou hadst e'en with him communion kept, + Who hath so long in Stratford's chancel slept; + Whose lines, where nature's brightest traces shine, + Alone were worthy deemed of powers like thine;-- + They who have heard all this, have proved full well + Of soul-exciting sound the mightiest spell. + But though time's lengthened shadows o'er thee glide, + And pomp of regal state is cast aside, + Think not the glory of thy course is spent, + There's moonlight radiance to thy evening lent, + That to the mental world can never fade, + Till all who saw thee, in the grave are laid. + Thy graceful form still moves in nightly dreams, + And what thou wast, to the lulled sleeper seems; + While feverish fancy oft doth fondly trace + Within her curtained couch thy wondrous face. + Yea; and to many a wight, bereft and lone, + In musing hours, though all to thee unknown, + Soothing his earthly course of good and ill, + With all thy potent charm, thou actest still. + And now in crowded room or rich saloon, + Thy stately presence recognized, how soon + On thee the glance of many an eye is cast, + In grateful memory of pleasures past! + Pleased to behold thee, with becoming grace, + Take, as befits thee well, an honored place; + Where blest by many a heart, long mayst thou stand, + Among the virtuous matrons of our land! + + + A SCOTCH SONG + + The gowan glitters on the sward, + The lavrock's in the sky, + And collie on my plaid keeps ward, + And time is passing by. + Oh no! sad and slow + And lengthened on the ground, + The shadow of our trysting bush + It wears so slowly round! + + My sheep-bell tinkles frae the west, + My lambs are bleating near, + But still the sound that I lo'e best, + Alack! I canna' hear. + Oh no! sad and slow, + The shadow lingers still, + And like a lanely ghaist I stand + And croon upon the hill. + + I hear below the water roar, + The mill wi' clacking din, + And Lucky scolding frae her door, + To ca' the bairnies in. + Oh no! sad and slow, + These are na' sounds for me, + The shadow of our trysting bush, + It creeps so drearily! + + I coft yestreen, frae Chapman Tarn, + A snood of bonny blue, + And promised when our trysting cam', + To tie it round her brow. + Oh no! sad and slow, + The mark it winna' pass; + The shadow of that weary thorn + Is tethered on the grass. + + Oh, now I see her on the way, + She's past the witch's knowe, + She's climbing up the Browny's brae, + My heart is in a lowe! + Oh no! 'tis no' so, + 'Tis glam'rie I have seen; + The shadow of that hawthorn bush + Will move na' mair till e'en. + + My book o' grace I'll try to read, + Though conn'd wi' little skill, + When collie barks I'll raise my head, + And find her on the hill. + Oh no! sad and slow, + The time will ne'er be gane, + The shadow of the trysting bush + Is fixed like ony stane. + + + SONG, 'POVERTY PARTS GOOD COMPANY' + + For an old Scotch Air + + When my o'erlay was white as the foam o' the lin, + And siller was chinkin my pouches within, + When my lambkins were bleatin on meadow and brae, + As I went to my love in new cleeding sae gay, + Kind was she, and my friends were free, + But poverty parts good company. + + How swift passed the minutes and hours of delight, + When piper played cheerly, and crusie burned bright, + And linked in my hand was the maiden sae dear, + As she footed the floor in her holyday gear! + Woe is me; and can it then be, + That poverty parts sic company? + + We met at the fair, and we met at the kirk, + We met i' the sunshine, we met i' the mirk; + And the sound o' her voice, and the blinks o' her een, + The cheerin and life of my bosom hae been. + Leaves frae the tree at Martinmass flee, + And poverty parts sweet company. + + At bridal and infare I braced me wi' pride, + The broose I hae won, and a kiss o' the bride; + And loud was the laughter good fellows among, + As I uttered my banter or chorused my song; + Dowie and dree are jestin and glee, + When poverty spoils good company. + + Wherever I gaed, kindly lasses looked sweet, + And mithers and aunties were unco discreet; + While kebbuck and bicker were set on the board: + But now they pass by me, and never a word! + Sae let it be, for the worldly and slee + Wi' poverty keep nae company. + + But the hope of my love is a cure for its smart, + And the spae-wife has tauld me to keep up my heart; + For, wi' my last saxpence, her loof I hae crost, + And the bliss that is fated can never be lost, + Though cruelly we may ilka day see + How poverty parts dear company. + + + THE KITTEN + + Wanton droll, whose harmless play + Beguiles the rustic's closing day, + When, drawn the evening fire about, + Sit aged crone and thoughtless lout, + And child upon his three-foot stool, + Waiting until his supper cool, + And maid whose cheek outblooms the rose, + As bright the blazing fagot glows, + Who, bending to the friendly light, + Plies her task with busy sleight, + Come, show thy tricks and sportive graces, + Thus circled round with merry faces: + Backward coiled and crouching low, + With glaring eyeballs watch thy foe, + The housewife's spindle whirling round, + Or thread or straw that on the ground + Its shadow throws, by urchin sly + Held out to lure thy roving eye; + Then stealing onward, fiercely spring + Upon the tempting, faithless thing. + Now, wheeling round with bootless skill, + Thy bo-peep tail provokes thee still, + As still beyond thy curving side + Its jetty tip is seen to glide; + Till from thy centre starting far, + Thou sidelong veer'st with rump in air + Erected stiff, and gait awry, + Like madam in her tantrums high; + Though ne'er a madam of them all, + Whose silken kirtle sweeps the hall, + More varied trick and whim displays + To catch the admiring stranger's gaze. + Doth power in measured verses dwell, + All thy vagaries wild to tell? + Ah, no! the start, the jet, the bound, + The giddy scamper round and round, + With leap and toss and high curvet, + And many a whirling somerset, + (Permitted by the modern muse + Expression technical to use)--These + mock the deftest rhymester's skill, + But poor in art, though rich in will. + + The featest tumbler, stage bedight, + To thee is but a clumsy wight, + Who every limb and sinew strains + To do what costs thee little pains; + For which, I trow, the gaping crowd + Requite him oft with plaudits loud. + + But, stopped the while thy wanton play, + Applauses too thy pains repay: + For then, beneath some urchin's hand + With modest pride thou takest thy stand, + While many a stroke of kindness glides + Along thy back and tabby sides. + Dilated swells thy glossy fur, + And loudly croons thy busy purr, + As, timing well the equal sound, + Thy clutching feet bepat the ground, + And all their harmless claws disclose + Like prickles of an early rose, + While softly from thy whiskered cheek + Thy half-closed eyes peer, mild and meek. + + But not alone by cottage fire + Do rustics rude thy feats admire. + The learned sage, whose thoughts explore + The widest range of human lore, + Or with unfettered fancy fly + Through airy heights of poesy, + Pausing smiles with altered air + To see thee climb his elbow-chair, + Or, struggling on the mat below, + Hold warfare with his slippered toe. + The widowed dame or lonely maid, + Who, in the still but cheerless shade + Of home unsocial, spends her age, + And rarely turns a lettered page, + Upon her hearth for thee lets fall + The rounded cork or paper ball, + Nor chides thee on thy wicked watch, + The ends of raveled skein to catch, + But lets thee have thy wayward will, + Perplexing oft her better skill. + + E'en he whose mind, of gloomy bent, + In lonely tower or prison pent, + Reviews the coil of former days, + And loathes the world and all its ways, + What time the lamp's unsteady gleam + Hath roused him from his moody dream, + Feels, as thou gambol'st round his seat, + His heart of pride less fiercely beat, + And smiles, a link in thee to find + That joins it still to living kind. + + Whence hast thou then, thou witless puss! + The magic power to charm us thus? + Is it that in thy glaring eye + And rapid movements we descry-- + Whilst we at ease, secure from ill, + The chimney corner snugly fill-- + A lion darting on his prey, + A tiger at his ruthless play? + Or is it that in thee we trace, + With all thy varied wanton grace, + An emblem, viewed with kindred eye + Of tricky, restless infancy? + Ah! many a lightly sportive child, + Who hath like thee our wits beguiled, + To dull and sober manhood grown, + With strange recoil our hearts disown. + + And so, poor kit! must thou endure, + When thou becom'st a cat demure, + Full many a cuff and angry word, + Chased roughly from the tempting board. + But yet, for that thou hast, I ween, + So oft our favored playmate been, + Soft be the change which thou shalt prove! + When time hath spoiled thee of our love, + Still be thou deemed by housewife fat + A comely, careful, mousing cat, + Whose dish is, for the public good, + Replenished oft with savory food, + Nor, when thy span of life is past, + Be thou to pond or dung-hill cast, + But, gently borne on goodman's spade, + Beneath the decent sod be laid; + And children show with glistening eyes + The place where poor old pussy lies. + + + + +HENRY MARTYN BAIRD + +(1832-) + + +That stirring period of the history of France which in certain of its +features has been made so familiar by Dumas through the 'Three +Musketeers' series and others of his fascinating novels, is that which +has been the theme of Dr. Baird in the substantial work to which so many +years of his life have been devoted. It is to the elucidation of one +portion only of the history of this period that he has given himself; +but although in this, the story of the Huguenots, nominally only a +matter of religious belief was involved, it in fact embraced almost the +entire internal politics of the nation, and the struggles for supremacy +of its ambitious families, as well as the effort to achieve +religious freedom. + +[Illustration: HENRY M. BAIRD] + +In these separate but related works the incidents of the whole +Protestant movement have been treated. The first of these, 'The History +of the Rise of the Huguenots in France' (1879), carries the story to the +time of Henry of Valois (1574), covering the massacre of St. +Bartholomew; the second, 'The Huguenots and Henry of Navarre' (1886), +covers the Protestant ascendancy and the Edict of Nantes, and ends with +the assassination of Henry in 1610; and the third, 'The Huguenots and +the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes' (1895), completes the main story, +and indeed brings the narrative down to a date much later than the title +seems to imply. + +It may be said, perhaps, that Dr. Baird holds a brief for the plaintiff +in the case; but his work does not produce the impression of being that +of a violently prejudiced, although an interested, writer. He is cool +and careful, writing with precision, and avoiding even the effects which +the historian may reasonably feel himself entitled to produce, and of +which the period naturally offers so many. + +Henry Martyn Baird was born in Philadelphia, January 17th, 1832, and was +educated at the University of the City of New York and the University of +Athens, and at Union and Princeton Theological Seminaries. In 1855 he +became a tutor at Princeton; and in the following year he published an +interesting volume on 'Modern Greece, a Narrative of Residence and +Travel.' In 1859 he was appointed to the chair of Greek Language and +Literature in the University of the City of New York. + +In addition to the works heretofore named, he is the author of a +biography of his father, Robert Baird, D.D. + + +THE BATTLE OF IVRY + +From 'The Huguenots and Henry of Navarre': Charles Scribner's Sons. + +The battle began with a furious cannonade from the King's artillery, so +prompt that nine rounds of shot had been fired before the enemy were +ready to reply, so well directed that great havoc was made in the +opposing lines. Next, the light horse of M. de Rosne, upon the extreme +right of the Leaguers, made a dash upon Marshal d'Aumont, but were +valiantly received. Their example was followed by the German reiters, +who threw themselves upon the defenders of the King's artillery and upon +the light horse of Aumont, who came to their relief; then, after their +customary fashion, wheeled around, expecting to pass easily through the +gaps between the friendly corps of Mayenne and Egmont, and to reload +their firearms at their leisure in the rear, by way of preparation for a +second charge. + +Owing to the blunder of Tavannes, however, they met a serried line of +horse where they looked for an open field; and the Walloon cavalry found +themselves compelled to set their lances in threatening position to ward +off the dangerous onset of their retreating allies. Another charge, made +by a squadron of the Walloon lancers themselves, was bravely met by +Baron Biron. His example was imitated by the Duke of Montpensier farther +down the field. Although the one leader was twice wounded, and the other +had his horse killed under him, both ultimately succeeded in repulsing +the enemy. + +It was about this time that the main body of Henry's horse became +engaged with the gallant array of cavalry in their front. Mayenne had +placed upon the left of his squadron a body of four hundred mounted +carabineers. These, advancing first, rode rapidly toward the King's +line, took aim, and discharged their weapons with deadly effect within +twenty-five paces. Immediately afterward the main force of eighteen +hundred lancers presented themselves. The King had fastened a great +white plume to his helmet, and had adorned his horse's head with +another, equally conspicuous. "Comrades!" he now exclaimed to those +about him, "Comrades! God is for us! There are his enemies and ours! If +you lose sight of your standards, rally to my white plume; you will find +it on the road to victory and to honor." The Huguenots had knelt after +their fashion; again Gabriel d'Amours had offered for them a prayer to +the God of battles: but no Joyeuse dreamed of suspecting that they were +meditating surrender or flight. The King, with the brave Huguenot +minister's prediction of victory still ringing in his ears, plunged into +the thickest of the fight, two horses' length ahead of his companions. +That moment he forgot that he was King of France and general-in-chief, +both in one, and fought as if he were a private soldier. It was indeed a +bold venture. True, the enemy, partly because of the confusion induced +by the reiters, partly from the rapidity of the King's movements, had +lost in some measure the advantage they should have derived from their +lances, and were compelled to rely mainly upon their swords, as against +the firearms of their opponents. Still, they outnumbered the knights of +the King's squadron more than as two to one. No wonder that some of the +latter flinched and actually turned back; especially when the +standard-bearer of the King, receiving a deadly wound in the face, lost +control of his horse, and went riding aimlessly about the field, still +grasping the banner in grim desperation. But the greater number emulated +the courage of their leader. The white plume kept them in the road to +victory and to honor. Yet even this beacon seemed at one moment to fail +them. Another cavalier, who had ostentatiously decorated his helmet much +after the same fashion as the King, was slain in the hand-to-hand +conflict, and some, both of the Huguenots and of their enemies, for a +time supposed the great Protestant champion himself to have fallen. + +But although fiercely contested, the conflict was not long. The troopers +of Mayenne wavered, and finally fled. Henry of Navarre emerged from the +confusion, to the great relief of his anxious followers, safe and sound, +covered with dust and blood not his own. More than once he had been in +great personal peril. On his return from the melee, he halted, with a +handful of companions, under the pear-trees indicated beforehand as a +rallying-point, when he was descried and attacked by three bands of +Walloon horse that had not yet engaged in the fight. Only his own valor +and the timely arrival of some of his troops saved the imprudent monarch +from death or captivity. + +The rout of Mayenne's principal corps was quickly followed by the +disintegration of his entire army. The Swiss auxiliaries of the League, +though compelled to surrender their flags, were, as ancient allies of +the crown, admitted to honorable terms of capitulation. To the French, +who fell into the King's hands, he was equally clement. Indeed, he +spared no efforts to save their lives. But it was otherwise with the +German lansquenets. Their treachery at Arques, where they had pretended +to come over to the royal side only to turn upon those who had believed +their protestations and welcomed them to their ranks, was yet fresh in +the memory of all. They received no mercy at the King's hands. + +Gathering his available forces together, and strengthened by the +accession of old Marshal Biron, who had been compelled, much against his +will, to remain a passive spectator while others fought, Henry pursued +the remnants of the army of the League many a mile to Mantes and the +banks of the Seine. If their defeat by a greatly inferior force had been +little to the credit of either the generals or the troops of the League, +their precipitate flight was still less decorous. The much-vaunted +Flemish lancers distinguished themselves, it was said, by not pausing +until they found safety beyond the borders of France; and Mayenne, never +renowned for courage, emulated or surpassed them in the eagerness he +displayed, on reaching the little town from which the battle took its +name, to put as many leagues as possible between himself and his +pursuers. "The enemy thus ran away," says the Englishman William Lyly, +who was an eye-witness of the battle; "Mayenne to Ivry, where the +Walloons and reiters followed so fast that there standing, hasting to +draw breath, and not able to speak, he was constrained to draw his sword +to strike the flyers to make place for his own flight." + +The battle had been a short one. Between ten and eleven o'clock the +first attack was made; in less than an hour the army of the League was +routed. It had been a glorious action for the King and his old +Huguenots, and not less for the loyal Roman Catholics who clung to him. +None seemed discontented but old Marshal Biron, who, when he met the +King coming out of the fray with battered armor and blunted sword, could +not help contrasting the opportunity his Majesty had enjoyed to +distinguish himself with his own enforced inactivity, and exclaimed, +"Sire, this is not right! You have to-day done what Biron ought to have +done, and he has done what the King should have done." But even Biron +was unable to deny that the success of the royal arms surpassed all +expectation, and deserved to rank among the wonders of history. The +preponderance of the enemy in numbers had been great. There was no +question that the impetuous attacks of their cavalry upon the left wing +of the King were for a time almost successful. The official accounts +might conveniently be silent upon the point, but the truth could not be +disguised that at the moment Henry plunged into battle a part of his +line was grievously shaken, a part was in full retreat, and the prospect +was dark enough. Some of his immediate followers, indeed, at this time +turned countenance and were disposed to flee, whereupon he recalled them +to their duty with the words, "Look this way, in order that if you will +not fight, at least you may see me die." But the steady and determined +courage of the King, well seconded by soldiers not less brave, turned +the tide of battle. "The enemy took flight," says the devout Duplessis +Mornay, "terrified rather by God than by men; for it is certain that the +one side was not less shaken than the other." And with the flight of the +cavalry, Mayenne's infantry, constituting, as has been seen, +three-fourths of his entire army, gave up the day as lost, without +striking a blow for the cause they had come to support. How many men the +army of the League lost in killed and wounded it is difficult to say. +The Prince of Parma reported to his master the loss of two hundred and +seventy of the Flemish lancers, together with their commander, the Count +of Egmont. The historian De Thou estimates the entire number of deaths +on the side of the League, including the combatants that fell in the +battle and the fugitives drowned at the crossing of the river Eure, by +Ivry, at eight hundred. The official account, on the other hand, agrees +with Marshal Biron, in stating that of the cavalry alone more than +fifteen hundred died, and adds that four hundred were taken prisoners; +while Davila swells the total of the slain to the incredible sum of +upward of six thousand men. + + + + +SIR SAMUEL WHITE BAKER + +(1821-1893) + + +The Northwest Passage, the Pole itself, and the sources of the Nile--how +many have struggled through ice and snow, or burned themselves with +tropic heat, in the effort to penetrate these secrets of the earth! And +how many have left their bones to whiten on the desert or lie hidden +beneath icebergs at the end of the search! + +Of the fortunate ones who escaped after many perils, Baker was one of +the most fortunate. He explored the Blue and the White Nile, discovered +at least one of the reservoirs from which flows the great river of +Egypt, and lived to tell the tale and to receive due honor, being +knighted by the Queen therefor, feted by learned societies, and sent +subsequently by the Khedive at the head of a large force with commission +to destroy the slave trade. In this he appears to have been successful +for a time, but for a time only. + +[Illustration: SIR SAMUEL BAKER] + +Baker was born in London, June 8th, 1821, and died December 30th, 1893. +With his brother he established, in 1847, a settlement in the mountains +of Ceylon, where he spent several years. His experiences in the far East +appear in books entitled 'The Rifle and Hound in Ceylon' and 'Eight +Years Wandering in Ceylon.' In 1861, accompanied by his young wife and +an escort, he started up the Nile, and three years later, on the 14th of +March, 1864, at length reached the cliffs overlooking the Albert Nyanza, +being the first European to behold its waters. Like most Englishmen, he +was an enthusiastic sportsman, and his manner of life afforded him a +great variety of unusual experiences. He visited Cyprus in 1879, after +the execution of the convention between England and Turkey, and +subsequently he traveled to Syria, India, Japan, and America. He kept +voluminous notes of his various journeys, which he utilized in the +preparation of numerous volumes:--'The Albert Nyanza'; 'The Nile +Tributaries of Abyssinia'; 'Ismaeilia,' a narrative of the expedition +under the auspices of the Khedive; 'Cyprus as I Saw It in 1879'; +together with 'Wild Beasts and Their Ways,' 'True Tales for My +Grandsons,' and a story entitled 'Cast Up by the Sea,' which was for +many years a great favorite with the boys of England and America. They +are all full of life and incident. One of the most delightful memories +of them which readers retain is the figure of his lovely wife, so full +of courage, loyalty, buoyancy, and charm. He had that rarest of +possibilities, spirit-stirring adventure and home companionship at once. + + +HUNTING IN ABYSSINIA + +From 'The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia' + +On arrival at the camp, I resolved to fire the entire country on the +following day, and to push still farther up the course of the Settite to +the foot of the mountains, and to return to this camp in about a +fortnight, by which time the animals that had been scared away by the +fire would have returned. Accordingly, on the following morning, +accompanied by a few of the aggageers, I started upon the south bank of +the river, and rode for some distance into the interior, to the ground +that was entirely covered with high withered grass. We were passing +through a mass of kittar thorn bush, almost hidden by the immensely high +grass, when, as I was ahead of the party, I came suddenly upon the +tracks of rhinoceros; these were so unmistakably recent that I felt sure +we were not far from the animals themselves. As I had wished to fire the +grass, I was accompanied by my Tokrooris, and my horse-keeper, Mahomet +No. 2. It was difficult ground for the men, and still more unfavorable +for the horses, as large disjointed masses of stone were concealed in +the high grass. + +We were just speculating as to the position of the rhinoceros, and +thinking how uncommonly unpleasant it would be should he obtain our +wind, when whiff! whiff! whiff! We heard the sharp whistling snort, with +a tremendous rush through the high grass and thorns close to us; and at +the same moment two of these determined brutes were upon us in full +charge. I never saw such a scrimmage; _sauve qui peut_! There was no +time for more than one look behind. I dug the spurs into Aggahr's +flanks, and clasping him round the neck, I ducked my head down to his +shoulder, well protected with my strong hunting cap, and I kept the +spurs going as hard as I could ply them, blindly trusting to Providence +and my good horse, over big rocks, fallen trees, thick kittar thorns, +and grass ten feet high, with the two infernal animals in full chase +only a few feet behind me. I heard their abominable whiffing close to +me, but so did my horse also, and the good old hunter flew over +obstacles that I should have thought impossible, and he dashed straight +under the hooked thorn bushes and doubled like a hare. The aggageers +were all scattered; Mahomet No. 2 was knocked over by a rhinoceros; all +the men were sprawling upon the rocks with their guns, and the party was +entirely discomfited. Having passed the kittar thorn, I turned, and +seeing that the beasts had gone straight on, I brought Aggahr's head +round, and tried to give chase, but it was perfectly impossible; it was +only a wonder that the horse had escaped in ground so difficult for +riding. Although my clothes were of the strongest and coarsest Arab +cotton cloth, which seldom tore, but simply lost a thread when caught in +a thorn, I was nearly naked. My blouse was reduced to shreds; as I wore +sleeves only half way from the shoulder to the elbow, my naked arms were +streaming with blood; fortunately my hunting cap was secured with a chin +strap, and still more fortunately I had grasped the horse's neck, +otherwise I must have been dragged out of the saddle by the hooked +thorns. All the men were cut and bruised, some having fallen upon their +heads among the rocks, and others had hurt their legs in falling in +their endeavors to escape. Mahomet. No. 2, the horse-keeper, was more +frightened than hurt, as he had been knocked down by the shoulder, and +not by the horn of the rhinoceros, as the animal had not noticed him: +its attention was absorbed by the horse. + +I determined to set fire to the whole country immediately, and +descending the hill toward the river to obtain a favorable wind, I put +my men in a line, extending over about a mile along the river's bed, and +they fired the grass in different places. With a loud roar, the flame +leaped high in air and rushed forward with astonishing velocity; the +grass was as inflammable as tinder, and the strong north wind drove the +long line of fire spreading in every direction through the country. + +We now crossed to the other side of the river to avoid the flames, and +we returned toward the camp. On the way I made a long shot and badly +wounded a tetel, but lost it in thick thorns; shortly after, I stalked a +nellut _(A. Strepsiceros_), and bagged it with the Fletcher rifle. + +We arrived early in camp, and on the following day we moved sixteen +miles farther up stream, and camped under a tamarind-tree by the side of +the river. No European had ever been farther than our last camp, +Delladilla, and that spot had only been visited by Johann Schmidt and +Florian. In the previous year, my aggageers had sabred some of the Base +at this very camping-place; they accordingly requested me to keep a +vigilant watch during the night, as they would be very likely to attack +us in revenge, unless they had been scared by the rifles and by the size +of our party. They advised me not to remain long in this spot, as it +would be very dangerous for my wife to be left almost alone during the +day, when we were hunting, and that the Base would be certain to espy us +from the mountains, and would most probably attack and carry her off +when they were assured of our departure. She was not very nervous about +this, but she immediately called the dragoman, Mahomet, who knew the use +of a gun, and she asked him if he would stand by her in case they were +attacked in my absence; the faithful servant replied, "Mahomet fight the +Base? No, Missus; Mahomet not fight; if the Base come, Missus fight; +Mahomet run away; Mahomet not come all the way from Cairo to get him +killed by black fellers; Mahomet will run--Inshallah!" (Please God.) + +This frank avowal of his military tactics was very reassuring. There was +a high hill of basalt, something resembling a pyramid, within a quarter +of a mile of us; I accordingly ordered some of my men every day to +ascend this look-out station, and I resolved to burn the high grass at +once, so as to destroy all cover for the concealment of an enemy. That +evening I very nearly burned our camp; I had several times ordered the +men to clear away the dry grass for about thirty yards from our +resting-place; this they had neglected to obey. We had been joined a few +days before by a party of about a dozen Hamran Arabs, who were +hippopotami hunters; thus we mustered very strong, and it would have +been the work of about half an hour to have cleared away the grass as I +had desired. + +The wind was brisk, and blew directly toward our camp, which was backed +by the river. I accordingly took a fire-stick, and I told my people to +look sharp, as they would not clear away the grass. I walked to the foot +of the basalt hill, and fired the grass in several places. In an instant +the wind swept the flame and smoke toward the camp. All was confusion; +the Arabs had piled the camel-saddles and all their corn and effects in +the high grass about twenty yards from the tent; there was no time to +remove all these things; therefore, unless they could clear away the +grass so as to stop the fire before it should reach the spot, they would +be punished for their laziness by losing their property. The fire +traveled quicker than I had expected, and, by the time I had hastened to +the tent, I found the entire party working frantically; the Arabs were +slashing down the grass with their swords, and sweeping it away with +their shields, while my Tokrooris were beating it down with long sticks +and tearing it from its withered and fortunately tinder-rotten roots, in +desperate haste. The flames rushed on, and we already felt the heat, as +volumes of smoke enveloped us; I thought it advisable to carry the +gunpowder (about 20 lbs.) down to the river, together with the rifles; +while my wife and Mahomet dragged the various articles of luggage to the +same place of safety. The fire now approached within about sixty yards, +and dragging out the iron pins, I let the tent fall to the ground. The +Arabs had swept a line like a high-road perfectly clean, and they were +still tearing away the grass, when they were suddenly obliged to rush +back as the flames arrived. + +Almost instantaneously the smoke blew over us, but the fire had expired +upon meeting the cleared ground. I now gave them a little lecture upon +obedience to orders; and from that day, their first act upon halting for +the night was to clear away the grass, lest I should repeat the +entertainment. In countries that are covered with dry grass, it should +be an invariable rule to clear the ground around the camp before night; +hostile natives will frequently fire the grass to windward of a party, +or careless servants may leave their pipes upon the ground, which fanned +by the wind would quickly create a blaze. That night the mountain +afforded a beautiful appearance as the flames ascended the steep sides, +and ran flickering up the deep gullies with a brilliant light. + +We were standing outside the tent admiring the scene, which perfectly +illuminated the neighborhood, when suddenly an apparition of a lion and +lioness stood for an instant before us at about fifteen yards distance, +and then disappeared over the blackened ground before I had time to +snatch a rifle from the tent. No doubt they had been disturbed from the +mountain by the fire, and had mistaken their way in the country so +recently changed from high grass to black ashes. In this locality I +considered it advisable to keep a vigilant watch during the night, and +the Arabs were told off for that purpose. + +A little before sunrise I accompanied the howartis, or hippopotamus +hunters, for a day's sport. There were numbers of hippos in this part of +the river, and we were not long before we found a herd. The hunters +failed in several attempts to harpoon them, but they succeeded in +stalking a crocodile after a most peculiar fashion. This large beast was +lying upon a sandbank on the opposite margin of the river, close to a +bed of rushes. + +The howartis, having studied the wind, ascended for about a quarter of a +mile, and then swam across the river, harpoon in hand. The two men +reached the opposite bank, beneath which they alternately waded or swam +down the stream toward the spot upon which the crocodile was lying. Thus +advancing under cover of the steep bank, or floating with the stream in +deep places, and crawling like crocodiles across the shallows, the two +hunters at length arrived at the bank or rushes, on the other side of +which the monster was basking asleep upon the sand. They were now about +waist-deep, and they kept close to the rushes with their harpoons +raised, ready to cast the moment they should pass the rush bed and come +in view of the crocodile. Thus steadily advancing, they had just arrived +at the corner within about eight yards of the crocodile, when the +creature either saw them, or obtained their wind; in an instant it +rushed to the water; at the same moment, the two harpoons were launched +with great rapidity by the hunters. One glanced obliquely from the +scales; the other stuck fairly in the tough hide, and the iron, detached +from the bamboo, held fast, while the ambatch float, running on the +surface of the water, marked the course of the reptile beneath. + +The hunters chose a convenient place, and recrossed the stream to our +side, apparently not heeding the crocodiles more than we should pike +when bathing in England. They would not waste their time by securing the +crocodile at present, as they wished to kill a hippopotamus; the float +would mark the position, and they would be certain to find it later. We +accordingly continued our search for hippopotami; these animals appeared +to be on the _qui vive_, and, as the hunters once more failed in an +attempt, I made a clean shot behind the ear of one, and killed it dead. +At length we arrived at a large pool, in which were several sandbanks +covered with rushes, and many rocky islands. Among these rocks were a +herd of hippopotami, consisting of an old bull and several cows; a young +hippo was standing, like an ugly little statue, on a protruding rock, +while another infant stood upon its mother's back that listlessly +floated on the water. + +This was an admirable place for the hunters. They desired me to lie +down, and they crept into the jungle out of view of the river; I +presently observed them stealthily descending the dry bed about two +hundred paces above the spot where the hippos were basking behind the +rocks. They entered the river, and swam down the centre of the stream +toward the rock. This was highly exciting:--the hippos were quite +unconscious of the approaching danger, as, steadily and rapidly, the +hunters floated down the strong current; they neared the rock, and both +heads disappeared as they purposely sank out of view; in a few seconds +later they reappeared at the edge of the rock upon which the young hippo +stood. It would be difficult to say which started first, the astonished +young hippo into the water, or the harpoons from the hands of the +howartis! It was the affair of a moment; the hunters dived directly they +had hurled their harpoons, and, swimming for some distance under water, +they came to the surface, and hastened to the shore lest an infuriated +hippopotamus should follow them. One harpoon had missed; the other had +fixed the bull of the herd, at which it had been surely aimed. This was +grand sport! The bull was in the greatest fury, and rose to the surface, +snorting and blowing in his impotent rage; but as the ambatch float was +exceedingly large, and this naturally accompanied his movements, he +tried to escape from his imaginary persecutor, and dived constantly, +only to find his pertinacious attendant close to him upon regaining the +surface. This was not to last long; the howartis were in earnest, and +they at once called their party, who, with two of the aggageers, Abou Do +and Suleiman, were near at hand; these men arrived with the long ropes +that form a portion of the outfit for hippo hunting. + +The whole party now halted on the edge of the river, while two men swam +across with one end of the long rope. Upon gaining the opposite bank, I +observed that a second rope was made fast to the middle of the main +line; thus upon our side we held the ends of two ropes, while on the +opposite side they had only one; accordingly, the point of junction of +the two ropes in the centre formed an acute angle. The object of this +was soon practically explained. Two men upon our side now each held a +rope, and one of these walked about ten yards before the other. Upon +both sides of the river the people now advanced, dragging the rope on +the surface of the water until they reached the ambatch float that was +swimming to and fro, according to the movements of the hippopotamus +below. By a dexterous jerk of the main line, the float was now placed +between the two ropes, and it was immediately secured in the acute angle +by bringing together the ends of these ropes on our side. + +The men on the opposite bank now dropped their line, and our men hauled +in upon the ambatch float that was held fast between the ropes. Thus +cleverly made sure, we quickly brought a strain upon the hippo, and, +although I have had some experience in handling big fish, I never knew +one pull so lustily as the amphibious animal that we now alternately +coaxed and bullied. He sprang out of the water, gnashed his huge jaws, +snorted with tremendous rage, and lashed the river into foam; he then +dived, and foolishly approached us beneath the water. We quickly +gathered in the slack line, and took a round turn upon a large rock, +within a few feet of the river. The hippo now rose to the surface, about +ten yards from the hunters, and, jumping half out of the water, he +snapped his great jaws together, endeavoring to catch the rope, but at +the same instant two harpoons were launched into his side. Disdaining +retreat and maddened with rage, the furious animal charged from the +depths of the river, and, gaining a footing, he reared his bulky form +from the surface, came boldly upon the sandbank, and attacked the +hunters open-mouthed. He little knew his enemy; they were not the men to +fear a pair of gaping jaws, armed with a deadly array of tusks, but half +a dozen lances were hurled at him, some entering his mouth from a +distance of five or six paces, at the same time several men threw +handfuls of sand into his enormous eyes. This baffled him more than the +lances; he crunched the shafts between his powerful jaws like straws, +but he was beaten by the sand, and, shaking his huge head, he retreated +to the river. During his sally upon the shore, two of the hunters had +secured the ropes of the harpoons that had been fastened in his body +just before his charge; he was now fixed by three of these deadly +instruments, but suddenly one rope gave way, having been bitten through +by the enraged beast, who was still beneath the water. Immediately after +this he appeared on the surface, and, without a moment's hesitation, he +once more charged furiously from the water straight at the hunters, with +his huge mouth open to such an extent that he could have accommodated +two inside passengers. Suleiman was wild with delight, and springing +forward lance in hand, he drove it against the head of the formidable +animal, but without effect. At the same time, Abou Do met the hippo +sword in hand, reminding me of Perseus slaying the sea-monster that +would devour Andromeda, but the sword made a harmless gash, and the +lance, already blunted against the rocks, refused to penetrate the tough +hide; once more handfuls of sand were pelted upon his face, and again +repulsed by this blinding attack, he was forced to retire to his deep +hole and wash it from his eyes. Six times during the fight the valiant +bull hippo quitted his watery fortress, and charged resolutely at his +pursuers; he had broken several of their lances in his jaws, other +lances had been hurled, and, falling upon the rocks, they were blunted, +and would not penetrate. The fight had continued for three hours, and +the sun was about to set, accordingly the hunters begged me to give him +the _coup de grace_, as they had hauled him close to the shore, and they +feared he would sever the rope with his teeth. I waited for a good +opportunity, when he boldly raised his head from water about three yards +from the rifle, and a bullet from the little Fletcher between the eyes +closed the last act. + + +THE SOURCES OF THE NILE + +From 'The Albert Nyanza' + +The name of this village was Parkani. For several days past our guides +had told us that we were very near to the lake, and we were now assured +that we should reach it on the morrow. I had noticed a lofty range of +mountains at an immense distance west, and I had imagined that the lake +lay on the other side of this chain; but I was now informed that those +mountains formed the western frontier of the M'wootan N'zige, and that +the lake was actually within a march of Parkani. I could not believe it +possible that we were so near the object of our search. The guide +Rabonga now appeared, and declared that if we started early on the +following morning we should be able to wash in the lake by noon! + +That night I hardly slept. For years I had striven to reach the "sources +of the Nile." In my nightly dreams during that arduous voyage I had +always failed, but after so much hard work and perseverance the cup was +at my very lips, and I was to drink at the mysterious fountain before +another sun should set--at that great reservoir of Nature that ever +since creation had baffled all discovery. + +I had hoped, and prayed, and striven through all kinds of difficulties, +in sickness, starvation, and fatigue, to reach that hidden source; and +when it had appeared impossible, we had both determined to die upon the +road rather than return defeated. Was it possible that it was so near, +and that to-morrow we could say, "the work is accomplished"? + +The 14th March. The sun had not risen when I was spurring my ox after +the guide, who, having been promised a double handful of beads on +arrival at the lake, had caught the enthusiasm of the moment. The day +broke beautifully clear, and having crossed a deep valley between the +hills, we toiled up the opposite slope. I hurried to the summit. The +glory of our prize burst suddenly upon me! There, like a sea of +quicksilver, lay far beneath the grand expanse of water,--a boundless +sea horizon on the south and southwest, glittering in the noonday sun; +and on the west at fifty or sixty miles distance blue mountains rose +from the bosom of the lake to a height of about 7,000 feet above +its level. + +It is impossible to describe the triumph of that moment;--here was the +reward for all our labor--for the years of tenacity with which we had +toiled through Africa. England had won the sources of the Nile! Long +before I reached this spot I had arranged to give three cheers with all +our men in English style in honor of the discovery, but now that I +looked down upon the great inland sea lying nestled in the very heart of +Africa, and thought how vainly mankind had sought these sources +throughout so many ages, and reflected that I had been the humble +instrument permitted to unravel this portion of the great mystery when +so many greater than I had failed, I felt too serious to vent my +feelings in vain cheers for victory, and I sincerely thanked God for +having guided and supported us through all dangers to the good end. I +was about 1,500 feet above the lake, and I looked down from the steep +granite cliff upon those welcome waters--upon that vast reservoir which +nourished Egypt and brought fertility where all was wilderness--upon +that great source so long hidden from mankind; that source of bounty and +of blessings to millions of human beings; and as one of the greatest +objects in nature, I determined to honor it with a great name. As an +imperishable memorial of one loved and mourned by our gracious Queen and +deplored by every Englishman, I called this great lake "the Albert +Nyanza." The Victoria and the Albert lakes are the two sources of +the Nile. + + + + +ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR + +(1848-) + + +Although the prominence of Arthur James Balfour in English contemporary +life is in the main that of a statesman, he has a high place as a critic +of philosophy, especially in its relation to religion. During the early +part of his life his interests were entirely those of a student. He was +born in 1848, a member of the Cecil family, and a nephew of the Prime +Minister, Lord Salisbury. His tastes were those of a retired thinker. He +cared for literature, music, and philosophy, but very little for the +political world; so little that he never read the newspapers. This +tendency was increased by his delicate health. When, therefore, as a +young man in the neighborhood of thirty, he was made Secretary for +Scotland, people laughed. His uncle's choice proved to be a wise one, +however; and he later, in 1886, gave his nephew the very important +position of Irish Secretary, at a time when some of the ablest and most +experienced statesmen had failed. Mr. Balfour won an unexpected success +and a wide reputation, and from that time on he developed rapidly into +one of the most skillful statesmen of the Conservative party. By +tradition and by temperament he is an extreme Tory; and it is in the +opposition, as a skillful fencer in debate and a sharp critic of +pretentious schemes, that he has been most admired and most feared. +However, he is kept from being narrowly confined to the traditional +point of view by the philosophic interests and training of his mind, +which he has turned into practical fairness. Some of his speeches are +most original in suggestion, and all show a literary quality of a high +order. His writings on other subjects are also broad, scholarly, and +practical. 'A Defense of Philosophic Doubt' is thought by some +philosophers to be the ablest work of destructive criticism since Hume. +'The Foundations of Belief' covers somewhat the same ground and in more +popular fashion. 'Essays and Addresses' is a collection of papers on +literature and sociology. + +[Illustration: ARTHUR J. BALFOUR] + + +THE PLEASURES OF READING + +From his Rectorial Address before the University of Glasgow + +I confess to have been much perplexed in my search for a topic on which +I could say something to which you would have patience to listen, or on +which I might find it profitable to speak. One theme however there is, +not inappropriate to the place in which I stand, nor I hope unwelcome to +the audience which I address. The youngest of you have left behind that +period of youth during which it seems inconceivable that any book should +afford recreation except a story-book. Many of you are just reaching the +period when, at the end of your prescribed curriculum, the whole field +and compass of literature lies outspread before you; when, with +faculties trained and disciplined, and the edge of curiosity not dulled +or worn with use, you may enter at your leisure into the intellectual +heritage of the centuries. + +Now the question of how to read and what to read has of late filled much +space in the daily papers, if it cannot strictly speaking be said to +have profoundly occupied the public mind. But you need be under no +alarm. I am not going to supply you with a new list of the hundred books +most worth reading, nor am I about to take the world into my confidence +in respect of my "favorite passages from the best authors." Nor again do +I address myself to the professed student, to the fortunate individual +with whom literature or science is the business as well as the pleasure +of life. I have not the qualifications which would enable me to +undertake such a task with the smallest hope of success. My theme is +humble, though the audience to whom I desire to speak is large: for I +speak to the ordinary reader with ordinary capacities and ordinary +leisure, to whom reading is, or ought to be, not a business but a +pleasure; and my theme is the enjoyment--not, mark you, the improvement, +nor the glory, nor the profit, but the _enjoyment_--which may be derived +by such an one from books. + +It is perhaps due to the controversial habits engendered by my +unfortunate profession, that I find no easier method of making my own +view clear than that of contrasting with it what I regard as an +erroneous view held by somebody else; and in the present case the +doctrine which I shall choose as a foil to my own, is one which has been +stated with the utmost force and directness by that brilliant and +distinguished writer, Mr. Frederic Harrison. He has, as many of you +know, recently given us, in a series of excellent essays, his opinion on +the principles which should guide us in the choice of books. Against +that part of his treatise which is occupied with specific +recommendations of certain authors I have not a word to say. He has +resisted all the temptations to eccentricity which so easily beset the +modern critic. Every book which he praises deserves his praise, and has +long been praised by the world at large. I do not, indeed, hold that the +verdict of the world is necessarily binding on the individual +conscience. I admit to the full that there is an enormous quantity of +hollow devotion, of withered orthodoxy divorced from living faith, in +the eternal chorus of praise which goes up from every literary altar to +the memory of the immortal dead. Nevertheless every critic is bound to +recognize, as Mr. Harrison recognizes, that he must put down to +individual peculiarity any difference he may have with the general +verdict of the ages; he must feel that mankind are not likely to be in a +conspiracy of error as to the kind of literary work which conveys to +them the highest literary enjoyment, and that in such cases at least +_securus judicat orbis terrarum_. + +But it is quite possible to hold that any work recommended by Mr. +Harrison is worth repeated reading, and yet to reject utterly the theory +of study by which these recommendations are prefaced. For Mr. Harrison +is a ruthless censor. His _index expurgatorius_ includes, so far as I +can discover, the whole catalogue of the British Museum, with the +exception of a small remnant which might easily be contained in about +thirty or forty volumes. The vast remainder he contemplates with +feelings apparently not merely of indifference, but of active aversion. +He surveys the boundless and ever-increasing waste of books with +emotions compounded of disgust and dismay. He is almost tempted to say +in his haste that the invention of printing has been an evil one for +humanity. In the habits of miscellaneous reading, born of a too easy +access to libraries, circulating and other, he sees many soul-destroying +tendencies; and his ideal reader would appear to be a gentleman who +rejects with a lofty scorn all in history that does not pass for being +first-rate in importance, and all in literature that is not admitted to +be first-rate in quality. + +Now, I am far from denying that this theory is plausible. Of all that +has been written, it is certain that the professed student can master +but an infinitesimal fraction. Of that fraction the ordinary reader can +master but a very small part. What advice, then, can be better than to +select for study the few masterpieces that have come down to us, and to +treat as non-existent the huge but undistinguished remainder? We are +like travelers passing hastily through some ancient city; filled with +memorials of many generations and more than one great civilization. Our +time is short. Of what may be seen we can only see at best but a +trifling fragment. Let us then take care that we waste none of our +precious moments upon that which is less than the most excellent. So +preaches Mr. Frederic Harrison; and when a doctrine which put thus may +seem not only wise but obvious, is further supported by such assertions +that habits of miscellaneous reading "close the mind to what is +spiritually sustaining" by "stuffing it with what is simply curious," or +that such methods of study are worse than no habits of study at all +because they "gorge and enfeeble" the mind by "excess in that which +cannot nourish," I almost feel that in venturing to dissent from it, I +may be attacking not merely the teaching of common sense but the +inspirations of a high morality. + +Yet I am convinced that for most persons the views thus laid down by Mr. +Harrison are wrong; and that what he describes, with characteristic +vigor, as "an impotent voracity for desultory information," is in +reality a most desirable and a not too common form of mental appetite. I +have no sympathy whatever with the horror he expresses at the "incessant +accumulation of fresh books." I am never tempted to regret that +Gutenberg was born into the world. I care not at all though the +"cataract of printed stuff," as Mr. Harrison calls it, should flow and +still flow on until the catalogues of our libraries should make +libraries themselves. I am prepared, indeed, to express sympathy almost +amounting to approbation for any one who would check all writing which +was _not_ intended for the printer. I pay no tribute of grateful +admiration to those who have oppressed mankind with the dubious blessing +of the penny post. But the ground of the distinction is plain. We are +always obliged to read our letters, and are sometimes obliged to answer +them. But who obliges us to wade through the piled-up lumber of an +ancient library, or to skim more than we like off the frothy foolishness +poured forth in ceaseless streams by our circulating libraries? Dead +dunces do not importune us; Grub Street does not ask for a reply by +return of post. Even their living successors need hurt no one who +possesses the very moderate degree of social courage required to make +the admission that he has not read the last new novel or the current +number of a fashionable magazine. + +But this is not the view of Mr. Harrison. To him the position of any one +having free access to a large library is fraught with issues so +tremendous that, in order adequately to describe it, he has to seek for +parallels in two of the most highly-wrought episodes in fiction: the +Ancient Mariner, becalmed and thirsting on the tropic ocean; Bunyan's +Christian in the crisis of spiritual conflict. But there is here, +surely, some error and some exaggeration. Has miscellaneous reading all +the dreadful consequences which Mr. Harrison depicts? Has it any of +them? His declaration about the intellect being "gorged and enfeebled" +by the absorption of too much information, expresses no doubt with great +vigor an analogy, for which there is high authority, between the human +mind and the human stomach; but surely it is an analogy which may be +pressed too far. I have often heard of the individual whose excellent +natural gifts have been so overloaded with huge masses of undigested and +indigestible learning that they have had no chance of healthy +development. But though I have often heard of this personage, I have +never met him, and I believe him to be mythical. It is true, no doubt, +that many learned people are dull; but there is no indication whatever +that they are dull because they are learned. True dullness is seldom +acquired; it is a natural grace, the manifestations of which, however +modified by education, remain in substance the same. Fill a dull man to +the brim with knowledge, and he will not become less dull, as the +enthusiasts for education vainly imagine; but neither will he become +duller, as Mr. Harrison appears to suppose. He will remain in essence +what he always has been and always must have been. But whereas his +dullness would, if left to itself, have been merely vacuous, it may have +become, under cureful cultivation, pretentious and pedantic. + +I would further point out to you that while there is no ground in +experience for supposing that a keen interest in those facts which Mr. +Harrison describes as "merely curious" has any stupefying effect upon +the mind, or has any tendency to render it insensible to the higher +things of literature and art, there is positive evidence that many of +those who have most deeply felt the charm of these higher things have +been consumed by that omnivorous appetite for knowledge which excites +Mr. Harrison's especial indignation. Dr. Johnson, for instance, though +deaf to some of the most delicate harmonies of verse, was without +question a very great critic. Yet in Dr. Johnson's opinion, literary +history, which is for the most part composed of facts which Mr. Harrison +would regard as insignificant, about authors whom he would regard as +pernicious, was the most delightful of studies. Again, consider the case +of Lord Macaulay. Lord Macaulay did everything Mr. Harrison says he +ought not to have done. From youth to age he was continuously occupied +in "gorging and enfeebling" his intellect, by the unlimited consumption +of every species of literature, from the masterpieces of the age of +Pericles to the latest rubbish from the circulating library. It is not +told of him that his intellect suffered by the process; and though it +will hardly be claimed for him that he was a great critic, none will +deny that he possessed the keenest susceptibilities for literary +excellence in many languages and in every form. If Englishmen and +Scotchmen do not satisfy you, I will take a Frenchman. The most +accomplished critic whom France has produced is, by general admission, +Ste.-Beuve. His capacity for appreciating supreme perfection in +literature will be disputed by none; yet the great bulk of his vast +literary industry was expended upon the lives and writings of authors +whose lives Mr. Harrison would desire us to forget, and whose writings +almost wring from him the wish that the art of printing had never been +discovered. + +I am even bold enough to hazard the conjecture (I trust he will forgive +me) that Mr. Harrison's life may be quoted against Mr. Harrison's +theory. I entirely decline to believe, without further evidence, that +the writings whose vigor of style and of thought have been the delight +of us all are the product of his own system. I hope I do him no wrong, +but I cannot help thinking that if we knew the truth, we should find +that he followed the practice of those worthy physicians who, after +prescribing the most abstemious diet to their patients, may be seen +partaking freely, and to all appearances safely, of the most succulent +and the most unwholesome of the forbidden dishes. + +It has to be noted that Mr. Harrison's list of the books which deserve +perusal would seem to indicate that in his opinion, the pleasures to be +derived from literature are chiefly pleasures of the imagination. Poets, +dramatists, and novelists form the chief portion of the somewhat meagre +fare which is specifically permitted to his disciples. Now, though I +have already stated that the list is not one of which any person is +likely to assert that it contains books which ought to be excluded, yet, +even from the point of view of what may be termed aesthetic enjoyment, +the field in which we are allowed to take our pleasures seems to me +unduly restricted. + +Contemporary poetry, for instance, on which Mr. Harrison bestows a good +deal of hard language, has and must have, for the generation which +produces it, certain qualities not likely to be possessed by any other. +Charles Lamb has somewhere declared that a pun loses all its virtues as +soon as the momentary quality of the intellectual and social atmosphere +in which it was born has changed its character. What is true of this, +the humblest effort of verbal art, is true in a different measure and +degree of all, even of the highest, forms of literature. To some extent +every work requires interpretation to generations who are separated by +differences of thought or education from the age in which it was +originally produced. That this is so with every book which depends for +its interest upon feelings and fashions which have utterly vanished, no +one will be disposed, I imagine, to deny. Butler's 'Hudibras,' for +instance, which was the delight of a gay and witty society, is to me at +least not unfrequently dull. Of some works, no doubt, which made a noise +in their day it seems impossible to detect the slightest race of charm. +But this is not the case with 'Hudibras.' Its merits are obvious. That +they should have appealed to a generation sick of the reign of the +"Saints" is precisely what we should have expected. But to us, who are +not sick of the reign of the Saints, they appeal but imperfectly. The +attempt to reproduce artificially the frame of mind of those who first +read the poem is not only an effort, but is to most people, at all +events, an unsuccessful effort. What is true of 'Hudibras' is true also, +though in an inconceivably smaller degree, of those great works of +imagination which deal with the elemental facts of human character and +human passion. Yet even on these, time does, though lightly, lay his +hand. Wherever what may be called "historic sympathy" is required, there +will be some diminution of the enjoyment which those must have felt who +were the poet's contemporaries. We look, so to speak, at the same +splendid landscape as they, but distance has made it necessary for us to +aid our natural vision with glasses, and some loss of light will thus +inevitably be produced, and some inconvenience from the difficulty of +truly adjusting the focus. Of all authors, Homer would, I suppose, be +thought to suffer least from such drawbacks. But yet in order to listen +to Homer's accents with the ears of an ancient Greek, we must be able, +among other things, to enter into a view about the gods which is as far +removed from what we should describe as religious sentiment, as it is +from the frigid ingenuity of those later poets who regarded the deities +of Greek mythology as so many wheels in the supernatural machinery with +which it pleased them to carry on the action of their pieces. If we are +to accept Mr. Herbert Spencer's views as to the progress of our species, +changes of sentiment are likely to occur which will even more seriously +interfere with the world's delight in the Homeric poems. When human +beings become so nicely "adjusted to their environment" that courage and +dexterity in battle will have become as useless among civic virtues as +an old helmet is among the weapons of war; when fighting gets to be +looked upon with the sort of disgust excited in us by cannibalism; and +when public opinion shall regard a warrior much in the same light that +we regard a hangman,--I do not see how any fragment of that vast and +splendid literature which depends for its interest upon deeds of heroism +and the joy of battle is to retain its ancient charm. + +About these remote contingencies, however, I am glad to think that +neither you nor I need trouble our heads; and if I parenthetically +allude to them now, it is merely as an illustration of a truth not +always sufficiently remembered, and as an excuse for those who find in +the genuine, though possibly second-rate, productions of their own age, +a charm for which they search in vain among the mighty monuments of +the past. + +But I leave this train of thought, which has perhaps already taken me +too far, in order to point out a more fundamental error, as I think it, +which arises from regarding literature solely from this high aesthetic +standpoint. The pleasures of imagination, derived from the best literary +models, form without doubt the most exquisite portion of the enjoyment +which we may extract from books; but they do not, in my opinion, form +the largest portion if we take into account mass as well as quality in +our calculation. There is the literature which appeals to the +imagination or the fancy, some stray specimens of which Mr. Harrison +will permit us to peruse; but is there not also the literature which +satisfies the curiosity? Is this vast storehouse of pleasure to be +thrown hastily aside because many of the facts which it contains are +alleged to be insignificant, because the appetite to which they minister +is said to be morbid? Consider a little. We are here dealing with one of +the strongest intellectual impulses of rational beings. Animals, as a +rule, trouble themselves but little about anything unless they want +either to eat it or to run away from it. Interest in and wonder at the +works of nature and the doings of man are products of civilization, and +excite emotions which do not diminish but increase with increasing +knowledge and cultivation. Feed them and they grow; minister to them and +they will greatly multiply. We hear much indeed of what is called "idle +curiosity"; but I am loth to brand any form of curiosity as necessarily +idle. Take, for example, one of the most singular, but in this age one +of the most universal, forms in which it is accustomed to manifest +itself: I mean that of an exhaustive study of the contents of the +morning and evening papers. It is certainly remarkable that any person +who has nothing to get by it should destroy his eyesight and confuse his +brain by a conscientious attempt to master the dull and doubtful details +of the European diary daily transmitted to us by "Our Special +Correspondent." But it must be remembered that this is only a somewhat +unprofitable exercise of that disinterested love of knowledge which +moves men to penetrate the Polar snows, to build up systems of +philosophy, or to explore the secrets of the remotest heavens. It has in +it the rudiments of infinite and varied delights. It _can_ be turned, +and it _should_ be turned into a curiosity for which nothing that has +been done, or thought, or suffered, or believed, no law which governs +the world of matter or the world of mind, can be wholly alien or +uninteresting. + +Truly it is a subject for astonishment that, instead of expanding to the +utmost the employment of this pleasure-giving faculty, so many persons +should set themselves to work to limit its exercise by all kinds of +arbitrary regulations. Some there are, for example, who tell us that the +acquisition of knowledge is all very well, but that it must be _useful_ +knowledge; meaning usually thereby that it must enable a man to get on +in a profession, pass an examination, shine in conversation, or obtain a +reputation for learning. But even if they mean something higher than +this, even if they mean that knowledge to be worth anything must +subserve ultimately if not immediately the material or spiritual +interests of mankind, the doctrine is one which should be energetically +repudiated. I admit, of course, at once, that discoveries the most +apparently remote from human concerns have often proved themselves of +the utmost commercial or manufacturing value. But they require no such +justification for their existence, nor were they striven for with any +such object. Navigation is not the final cause of astronomy, nor +telegraphy of electro-dynamics, nor dye-works of chemistry. And if it be +true that the desire of knowledge for the sake of knowledge was the +animating motive of the great men who first wrested her secrets from +nature, why should it not also be enough for us, to whom it is not given +to discover, but only to learn as best we may what has been discovered +by others? + +Another maxim, more plausible but equally pernicious, is that +superficial knowledge is worse than no knowledge at all. That "a little +knowledge is a dangerous thing" is a saying which has now got currency +as a proverb stamped in the mint of Pope's versification; of Pope, who +with the most imperfect knowledge of Greek translated Homer, with the +most imperfect knowledge of the Elizabethan drama edited Shakespeare, +and with the most imperfect knowledge of philosophy wrote the 'Essay on +Man.' But what is this "little knowledge" which is supposed to be so +dangerous? What is it "little" in relation to? If in relation to what +there is to know, then all human knowledge is little. If in relation to +what actually is known by somebody, then we must condemn as "dangerous" +the knowledge which Archimedes possessed of mechanics, or Copernicus of +astronomy; for a shilling primer and a few weeks' study will enable any +student to outstrip in mere information some of the greatest teachers +of the past. No doubt, that little knowledge which thinks itself to be +great may possibly be a dangerous, as it certainly is a most ridiculous +thing. We have all suffered under that eminently absurd individual who +on the strength of one or two volumes, imperfectly apprehended by +himself, and long discredited in the estimation of everyone else, is +prepared to supply you on the shortest notice with a dogmatic solution +of every problem suggested by this "unintelligible world" or the +political variety of the same pernicious genus, whose statecraft +consists in the ready application to the most complex question of +national interest of some high-sounding commonplace which has done weary +duty on a thousand platforms, and which even in its palmiest days was +never fit for anything better than a peroration. But in our dislike of +the individual, do not let us mistake the diagnosis of his disease. He +suffers not from ignorance but from stupidity. Give him learning and you +make him not wise, but only more pretentious in his folly. + +I say then that so far from a little knowledge being undesirable, a +little knowledge is all that on most subjects any of us can hope to +attain; and that, as a source not of worldly profit but of personal +pleasure, it may be of incalculable value to its possessor. But it will +naturally be asked, "How are we to select from among the infinite number +of things which may be known, those which it is best worth while for us +to know?" We are constantly being told to concern ourselves with +learning what is important, and not to waste our energies upon what is +insignificant. But what are the marks by which we shall recognize the +important, and how is it to be distinguished from the insignificant. A +precise and complete answer to this question which shall be true for all +men cannot be given. I am considering knowledge, recollect, as it +ministers to enjoyment; and from this point of view each unit of +information is obviously of importance in proportion as it increases the +general sum of enjoyment which we obtain, or expect to obtain, from +knowledge. This, of course, makes it impossible to lay down precise +rules which shall be an equally sure guide to all sorts and conditions +of men; for in this, as in other matters, tastes must differ, and +against real difference of taste there is no appeal. + +There is, however, one caution which it may be worth your while to keep +in view:--Do not be persuaded into applying any general proposition on +this subject with a foolish impartiality to every kind of knowledge. +There are those who tell you that it is the broad generalities and the +far-reaching principles which govern the world, which are alone worthy +of your attention. A fact which is not an illustration of a law, in the +opinion of these persons appears to lose all its value. Incidents which +do not fit into some great generalization, events which are merely +picturesque, details which are merely curious, they dismiss as unworthy +the interest of a reasoning being. Now, even in science this doctrine in +its extreme form does not hold good. The most scientific of men have +taken profound interest in the investigation of facts from the +determination of which they do not anticipate any material addition to +our knowledge of the laws which regulate the Universe. In these matters, +I need hardly say that I speak wholly without authority. But I have +always been under the impression that an investigation which has cost +hundreds of thousands of pounds; which has stirred on three occasions +the whole scientific community throughout the civilized world; on which +has been expended the utmost skill in the construction of instruments +and their application to purposes of research (I refer to the attempts +made to determine the distance of the sun by observation of the transit +of Venus),--would, even if they had been brought to a successful issue, +have furnished mankind with the knowledge of no new astronomical +principle. The laws which govern the motions of the solar system, the +proportions which the various elements in that system bear to one +another, have long been known. The distance of the sun itself is known +within limits of error relatively speaking not very considerable. Were +the measuring rod we apply to the heavens based on an estimate of the +sun's distance from the earth which was wrong by (say) three per cent., +it would not to the lay mind seem to affect very materially our view +either of the distribution of the heavenly bodies or of their motions. +And yet this information, this piece of celestial gossip, would seem to +have been the chief astronomical result expected from the successful +prosecution of an investigation in which whole nations have interested +themselves. + +But though no one can, I think, pretend that science does not concern +itself, and properly concern itself, with facts which are not to all +appearance illustrations of law, it is undoubtedly true that for those +who desire to extract the greatest pleasure from science, a knowledge, +however elementary, of the leading principles of investigation and the +larger laws of nature, is the acquisition most to be desired. To him who +is not a specialist, a comprehension of the broad outlines of the +universe as it presents itself to his scientific imagination is the +thing most worth striving to attain. But when we turn from science to +what is rather vaguely called history, the same principles of study do +not, I think, altogether apply, and mainly for this reason: that while +the recognition of the reign of law is the chief amongst the pleasures +imparted by science, our inevitable ignorance makes it the least among +the pleasures imparted by history. + +It is no doubt true that we are surrounded by advisers who tell us that +all study of the past is barren, except in so far as it enables us to +determine the principles by which the evolution of human societies is +governed. How far such an investigation has been up to the present time +fruitful in results, it would be unkind to inquire. That it will ever +enable us to trace with accuracy the course which States and nations are +destined to pursue in the future, or to account in detail for their +history in the past, I do not in the least believe. We are borne along +like travelers on some unexplored stream. We may know enough of the +general configuration of the globe to be sure that we are making our way +towards the ocean. We may know enough, by experience or theory, of the +laws regulating the flow of liquids, to conjecture how the river will +behave under the varying influences to which it may be subject. More +than this we cannot know. It will depend largely upon causes which, in +relation to any laws which we are even likely to discover may properly +be called accidental, whether we are destined sluggishly to drift among +fever-stricken swamps, to hurry down perilous rapids, or to glide gently +through fair scenes of peaceful cultivation. + +But leaving on one side ambitious sociological speculations, and even +those more modest but hitherto more successful investigations into the +causes which have in particular cases been principally operative in +producing great political changes, there are still two modes in which we +can derive what I may call "spectacular" enjoyment from the study of +history. There is first the pleasure which arises from the contemplation +of some great historic drama, or some broad and well-marked phase of +social development. The story of the rise, greatness, and decay of a +nation is like some vast epic which contains as subsidiary episodes the +varied stories of the rise, greatness, and decay of creeds, of parties, +and of statesmen. The imagination is moved by the slow unrolling of this +great picture of human mutability, as it is moved by the contrasted +permanence of the abiding stars. The ceaseless conflict, the strange +echoes of long-forgotten controversies, the confusion of purpose, the +successes in which lay deep the seeds of future evils, the failures that +ultimately divert the otherwise inevitable danger, the heroism which +struggles to the last for a cause foredoomed to defeat, the wickedness +which sides with right, and the wisdom which huzzas at the triumph of +folly,--fate, meanwhile, amidst this turmoil and perplexity, working +silently towards the predestined end,--all these form together a subject +the contemplation of which need surely never weary. + +But yet there is another and very different species of enjoyment to be +derived from the records of the past, which requires a somewhat +different method of study in order that it may be fully tasted. Instead +of contemplating as it were from a distance the larger aspects of the +human drama, we may elect to move in familiar fellowship amid the scenes +and actors of special periods. We may add to the interest we derive from +the contemplation of contemporary politics, a similar interest derived +from a not less minute, and probably more accurate, knowledge of some +comparatively brief passage in the political history of the past. We may +extend the social circle in which we move, a circle perhaps narrowed and +restricted through circumstances beyond our control, by making intimate +acquaintances, perhaps even close friends, among a society long +departed, but which, when we have once learnt the trick of it, we may, +if it so pleases us, revive. + +It is this kind of historical reading which is usually branded as +frivolous and useless; and persons who indulge in it often delude +themselves into thinking that the real motive of their investigation +into bygone scenes and ancient scandals is philosophic interest in an +important historical episode, whereas in truth it is not the philosophy +which glorifies the details, but the details which make tolerable the +philosophy. Consider, for example, the case of the French Revolution. +The period from the taking of the Bastile to the fall of Robespierre is +about the same as that which very commonly intervenes between two of our +general elections. On these comparatively few months, libraries have +been written. The incidents of every week are matters of familiar +knowledge. The character and the biography of every actor in the drama +has been made the subject of minute study; and by common admission there +is no more fascinating page in the history of the world. But the +interest is not what is commonly called philosophic, it is personal. +Because the Revolution is the dominant fact in modern history, therefore +people suppose that the doings of this or that provincial lawyer, tossed +into temporary eminence and eternal infamy by some freak of the +revolutionary wave, or the atrocities committed by this or that mob, +half drunk with blood, rhetoric, and alcohol, are of transcendent +importance. In truth their interest is great, but their importance is +small. What we are concerned to know as students of the philosophy of +history is, not the character of each turn and eddy in the great social +cataract, but the manner in which the currents of the upper stream drew +surely in towards the final plunge, and slowly collected themselves +after the catastrophe again, to pursue at a different level their +renewed and comparatively tranquil course. + +Now, if so much of the interest of the French Revolution depends upon +our minute knowledge of each passing incident, how much more necessary +is such knowledge when we are dealing with the quiet nooks and corners +of history; when we are seeking an introduction, let us say, into the +literary society of Johnson, or the fashionable society of Walpole. +Society, dead or alive, can have no charm without intimacy, and no +intimacy without interest in trifles which I fear Mr. Harrison would +describe as "merely curious." If we would feel at our ease in any +company, if we wish to find humor in its jokes, and point in its +repartees, we must know something of the beliefs and the prejudices of +its various members, their loves and their hates, their hopes and their +fears, their maladies, their marriages, and their flirtations. If these +things are beneath our notice, we shall not be the less qualified to +serve our Queen and country, but need make no attempt to extract +pleasure from one of the most delightful departments of literature. + +That there is such a thing as trifling information I do not of course +question; but the frame of mind in which the reader is constantly +weighing the exact importance to the universe at large of each +circumstance which the author presents to his notice, is not one +conducive to the true enjoyment of a picture whose effect depends upon a +multitude of slight and seemingly insignificant touches, which impress +the mind often without remaining in the memory. The best method of +guarding against the danger of reading what is useless is to read only +what is interesting; a truth which will seem a paradox to a whole class +of readers, fitting objects of our commiseration, who may be often +recognized by their habit of asking some adviser for a list of books, +and then marking out a scheme of study in the course of which all are to +be conscientiously perused. These unfortunate persons apparently read a +book principally with the object of getting to the end of it. They reach +the word _Finis_ with the same sensation of triumph as an Indian feels +who strings a fresh scalp to his girdle. They are not happy unless they +mark by some definite performance each step in the weary path of +self-improvement. To begin a volume and not to finish it would be to +deprive themselves of this satisfaction; it would be to lose all the +reward of their earlier self-denial by a lapse from virtue at the end. +To skip, according to their literary code, is a species of cheating; it +is a mode of obtaining credit for erudition on false pretenses; a plan +by which the advantages of learning are surreptitiously obtained by +those who have not won them by honest toil. But all this is quite wrong. +In matters literary, works have no saving efficacy. He has only half +learnt the art of reading who has not added to it the even more refined +accomplishments of skipping and of skimming; and the first step has +hardly been taken in the direction of making literature a pleasure until +interest in the subject, and not a desire to spare (so to speak) the +author's feelings, or to accomplish an appointed task, is the prevailing +motive of the reader. + +I have now reached, not indeed the end of my subject, which I have +scarcely begun, but the limits inexorably set by the circumstances under +which it is treated. Yet I am unwilling to conclude without meeting an +objection to my method of dealing with it, which has I am sure been +present to the minds of not a few who have been good enough to listen to +me with patience. It will be said that I have ignored the higher +functions of literature; that I have degraded it from its rightful +place, by discussing only certain ways in which it may minister to the +entertainment of an idle hour, leaving wholly out of sight its +contributions to what Mr. Harrison calls our "spiritual sustenance." +Now, this is partly because the first of these topics and not the second +was the avowed subject of my address; but it is partly because I am +deliberately of opinion that it is the pleasures and not the profits, +spiritual or temporal, of literature which most require to be preached +in the ear of the ordinary reader. I hold indeed the faith that all such +pleasures minister to the development of much that is best in +man--mental and moral; but the charm is broken and the object lost if +the remote consequence is consciously pursued to the exclusion of the +immediate end. It will not, I suppose, be denied that the beauties of +nature are at least as well qualified to minister to our higher needs as +are the beauties of literature. Yet we do not say we are going to walk +to the top of such and such a hill in order to drink in "spiritual +sustenance." We say we are going to look at the view. And I am convinced +that this, which is the natural and simple way of considering literature +as well as nature, is also the true way. The habit of always requiring +some reward for knowledge beyond the knowledge itself, be that reward +some material prize or be it what is vaguely called self-improvement, is +one with which I confess I have little sympathy, fostered though it is +by the whole scheme of our modern education. Do not suppose that I +desire the impossible. I would not if I could destroy the examination +system. But there are times, I confess, when I feel tempted somewhat to +vary the prayer of the poet, and to ask whether Heaven has not reserved, +in pity to this much-educating generation, some peaceful desert of +literature as yet unclaimed by the crammer or the coach; where it might +be possible for the student to wander, even perhaps to stray, at his own +pleasure without finding every beauty labeled, every difficulty +engineered, every nook surveyed, and a professional cicerone standing at +every corner to guide each succeeding traveler along the same well-worn +round. If such a wish were granted, I would further ask that the domain +of knowledge thus "neutralized" should be the literature of our own +country. I grant to the full that the systematic study of _some_ +literature must be a principal element in the education of youth. But +why should that literature be our own? Why should we brush off the bloom +and freshness from the works to which Englishmen and Scotchmen most +naturally turn for refreshment,--namely, those written in their own +language? Why should we associate them with the memory of hours spent in +weary study; in the effort to remember for purposes of examination what +no human being would wish to remember for any other; in the struggle to +learn something, not because the learner desires to know it, because he +desires some one else to know that he knows it? This is the dark side of +the examination system; a system necessary and therefore excellent, but +one which does, through the very efficiency and thoroughness of the +drill by which it imparts knowledge, to some extent impair the most +delicate pleasures by which the acquisition of knowledge should +be attended. + +How great those pleasures may be, I trust there are many here who can +testify. When I compare the position of the reader of to-day with that +of his predecessor of the sixteenth century. I am amazed at the +ingratitude of those who are tempted even for a moment to regret the +invention of printing and the multiplication of books. There is now no +mood of mind to which a man may not administer the appropriate nutriment +or medicine at the cost of reaching down a volume from his bookshelf. In +every department of knowledge infinitely more is known, and what is +known is incomparably more accessible, than it was to our ancestors. The +lighter forms of literature, good, bad, and indifferent, which have +added so vastly to the happiness of mankind, have increased beyond +powers of computation; nor do I believe that there is any reason to +think that they have elbowed out their more serious and important +brethren. It is perfectly possible for a man, not a professed student, +and who only gives to reading the leisure hours of a business life, to +acquire such a general knowledge of the laws of nature and the facts of +history that every great advance made in either department shall be to +him both intelligible and interesting; and he may besides have among his +familiar friends many a departed worthy whose memory is embalmed in the +pages of memoir or biography. All this is ours for the asking. All this +we shall ask for, if only it be our happy fortune to love for its own +sake the beauty and the knowledge to be gathered from books. And if this +be our fortune, the world may be kind or unkind, it may seem to us to be +hastening on the wings of enlightenment and progress to an imminent +millennium, or it may weigh us down with the sense of insoluble +difficulty and irremediable wrong; but whatever else it be, so long as +we have good health and a good library, it can hardly be dull. + + + + +THE BALLAD + +(Popular or Communal) + +BY F.B. GUMMERE + + +The popular ballad, as it is understood for the purpose of these +selections, is a narrative in lyric form, with no traces of individual +authorship, and is preserved mainly by oral tradition. In its earliest +stages it was meant to be sung by a crowd, and got its name from the +dance to which it furnished the sole musical accompaniment. In these +primitive communities the ballad was doubtless chanted by the entire +folk, in festivals mainly of a religious character. Explorers still meet +something of the sort in savage tribes: and children's games preserve +among us some relics of this protoplasmic form of verse-making, in which +the single poet or artist was practically unknown, and spontaneous, +improvised verses arose out of the occasion itself; in which the whole +community took part; and in which the beat of foot--along with the +gesture which expressed narrative elements of the song--was inseparable +from the words and the melody. This native growth of song, in which the +chorus or refrain, the dance of a festal multitude, and the spontaneous +nature of the words, were vital conditions, gradually faded away before +the advance of cultivated verse and the vigor of production in what one +may call poetry of the schools. Very early in the history of the ballad, +a demand for more art must have called out or at least emphasized the +artist, the poet, who chanted new verses while the throng kept up the +refrain or burden. Moreover, as interest was concentrated upon the words +or story, people began to feel that both dance and melody were separable +if not alien features; and thus they demanded the composed and recited +ballad, to the harm and ultimate ruin of that spontaneous song for the +festal, dancing crowd. Still, even when artistry had found a footing in +ballad verse, it long remained mere agent and mouthpiece for the folk; +the communal character of the ballad was maintained in form and matter. +Events of interest were sung in almost contemporary and entirely +improvised verse; and the resulting ballads, carried over the borders of +their community and passed down from generation to generation, served as +newspaper to their own times and as chronicle to posterity. It is the +kind of song to which Tacitus bears witness as the sole form of history +among the early Germans; and it is evident that such a stock of ballads +must have furnished considerable raw material to the epic. Ballads, in +whatever original shape, went to the making of the English 'Beowulf,' +of the German 'Nibelungenlied.' Moreover, a study of dramatic poetry +leads one back to similar communal origins. What is loosely called a +"chorus,"--originally, as the name implies, a dance--out of which older +forms of the drama were developed, could be traced back to identity with +primitive forms of the ballad. The purely lyrical ballad, even, the +_chanson_ of the people, so rare in English but so abundant among other +races, is evidently a growth from the same root. + +If, now, we assume for this root the name of communal poem, and if we +bear in mind the dominant importance of the individual, the artist, in +advancing stages of poetry, it is easy to understand why for civilized +and lettered communities the ballad has ceased to have any vitality +whatever. Under modern conditions the making of ballads is a closed +account. For our times poetry means something written by a poet, and not +something sung more or less spontaneously by a dancing throng. Indeed, +paper and ink, the agents of preservation in the case of ordinary verse, +are for ballads the agents of destruction. The broadside press of three +centuries ago, while it rescued here and there a genuine ballad, poured +out a mass of vulgar imitations which not only displaced and destroyed +the ballad of oral tradition, but brought contempt upon good and bad +alike. Poetry of the people, to which our ballad belongs, is a thing of +the past. Even rude and distant communities, like those of Afghanistan, +cannot give us the primitive conditions. The communal ballad is rescued, +when rescued at all, by the fragile chances of a written copy or of oral +tradition; and we are obliged to study it under terms of artistic +poetry,--that is, we are forced to take through the eye and the judgment +what was meant for the ear and immediate sensation. Poetry _for_ the +people, however, "popular poetry" in the modern phrase, is a very +different affair. Street songs, vulgar rhymes, or even improvisations of +the concert-halls, tawdry and sentimental stuff,--these things are +sundered by the world's width from poetry _of_ the people, from the folk +in verse, whether it echo in a great epos which chants the clash of +empires or linger in a ballad of the countryside sung under the village +linden. For this ballad is a part of the poetry which comes from the +people as a whole, from a homogeneous folk, large or small; while the +song of street or concert-hall is deliberately composed for a class, a +section, of the community. It would therefore be better to use some +other term than "popular" when we wish to specify the ballad of +tradition, and so avoid all taint of vulgarity and the trivial. Nor must +we go to the other extreme. Those high-born people who figure in +traditional ballads--Childe Waters, Lady Maisry, and the rest--do not +require us to assume composition in aristocratic circles; for the lower +classes of the people in ballad days had no separate literature, and a +ballad of the folk belonged to the community as a whole. The same habit +of thought, the same standard of action, ruled alike the noble and his +meanest retainer. Oral transmission, the test of the ballad, is of +course nowhere possible save in such an unlettered community. Since all +critics are at one in regard to this homogeneous character of the folk +with whom and out of whom these songs had their birth, one is justified +in removing all doubt from the phrase by speaking not of the popular +ballad but of the communal ballad, the ballad of a community. + +With regard to the making of a ballad, one must repeat a caution, hinted +already, and made doubly important by a vicious tendency in the study of +all phases of culture. It is a vital mistake to explain primitive +conditions by exact analogy with conditions of modern savagery and +barbarism. Certain conclusions, always guarded and cautious to a degree, +may indeed be drawn; but it is folly to insist that what now goes on +among shunted races, belated detachments in the great march of culture, +must have gone on among the dominant and mounting peoples who had +reached the same external conditions of life. The homogeneous and +unlettered state of the ballad-makers is not to be put on a level with +the ignorance of barbarism, nor explained by the analogy of songs among +modern savage tribes. Fortunately we have better material. The making of +a ballad by a community can be illustrated from a case recorded by +Pastor Lyngbye in his invaluable account of life on the Faroe Islands a +century ago. Not only had the islanders used from most ancient times +their traditional and narrative songs as music for the dance, but they +had also maintained the old fashion of making a ballad. In the winter, +says Lyngbye, dancing is their chief amusement and is an affair of the +entire community. At such a dance, one or more persons begin to sing; +then all who are present join in the ballad, or at least in the refrain. +As they dance, they show by their gestures and expression that they +follow with eagerness the course of the story which they are singing. +More than this, the ballad is often a spontaneous product of the +occasion. A fisherman, who has had some recent mishap with his boat, is +pushed by stalwart comrades into the middle of the throng, while the +dancers sing verses about him and his lack of skill,--verses improvised +on the spot and with a catching and clamorous refrain. If these verses +win favor, says Lyngbye, they are repeated from year to year, with +slight additions or corrections, and become a permanent ballad. Bearing +in mind the extraordinary readiness to improvise shown even in these +days by peasants in every part of Europe, we thus gain some definite +notion about the spontaneous and communal elements which went to the +making of the best type of primitive verse; for these Faroe islanders +were no savages, but simply a homeogeneous and isolated folk which +still held to the old ways of communal song. + +Critics of the ballad, moreover, agree that it has little or no +subjective traits,--an easy inference from the conditions just +described. There is no individuality lurking behind the words of the +ballad, and above all, no evidence of that individuality in the form of +sentiment. Sentiment and individuality are the very essence of modern +poetry, and the direct result of individualism in verse. Given a poet, +sentiment--and it may be noble and precious enough--is sure to follow. +But the ballad, an epic in little, forces one's attention to the object, +the scene, the story, and away from the maker. + + "The king sits in Dumferling town." + +begins one of the noblest of all ballads; while one of the greatest of +modern poems opens with something personal and pathetic, key-note to all +that follows:-- + + "My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains + My sense ..." + +Even when a great poet essays the ballad, either he puts sentiment into +it, or else he keeps sentiment out of it by a _tour de force_. Admirable +and noble as one must call the conclusion of an artistic ballad such as +Tennyson's 'Revenge,' it is altogether different from the conclusion of +such a communal ballad as 'Sir Patrick Spens.' That subtle quality of +the ballad which lies in solution with the story and which--as in 'Child +Maurice' or 'Babylon' or 'Edward'--compels in us sensations akin to +those called out by the sentiment of the poet, is a wholly impersonal if +strangely effective quality, far removed from the corresponding elements +of the poem of art. At first sight, one might say that Browning's +dramatic lyrics had this impersonal quality. But compare the close of +'Give a Rouse,' chorus and all, with the close of 'Child Maurice,' that +swift and relentless stroke of pure tragedy which called out the +enthusiasm of so great a critic as Gray. + +The narrative of the communal ballad is full of leaps and omissions; the +style is simple to a fault; the diction is spontaneous and free. +Assonance frequently takes the place of rhyme, and a word often rhymes +with itself. There is a lack of poetic adornment in the style quite as +conspicuous as the lack of reflection and moralizing in the matter. +Metaphor and simile are rare and when found are for the most part +standing phrases common to all the ballads; there is never poetry for +poetry's sake. Iteration is the chief mark of ballad style; and the +favorite form of this effective figure is what one may call incremental +repetition. The question is repeated with the answer; each increment in +a series of related facts has a stanza for itself, identical, save for +the new fact, with the other stanzas. 'Babylon' furnishes good instances +of this progressive iteration. Moreover, the ballad differs from earlier +English epics in that it invariably has stanzas and rhyme; of the two +forms of stanza, the two-line stanza with a refrain is probably older +than the stanza with four or six lines. + +This necessary quality of the stanza points to the origin of the ballad +in song; but longer ballads, such as those that make up the 'Gest of +Robin Hood,' an epic in little, were not sung as lyrics or to aid the +dance, but were either chanted in a monotonous fashion or else recited +outright. Chappell, in his admirable work on old English music ('Music +of the Olden Time,' ii. 790), names a third class of "characteristic +airs of England,"--the "historical and very long ballads, ... invariably +of simple construction, usually plaintive.... They were rarely if ever +used for dancing." Most of the longer ballads, however, were doubtless +given by one person in a sort of recitative; this is the case with +modern ballads of Russia and Servia, where the bystanders now and then +join in a chorus. Precisely in the same way ballads were divorced from +the dance, originally their vital condition; but in the refrain, which +is attached to so many ballads, one finds an element which has survived +from those earliest days of communal song. + +Of oldest communal poetry no actual ballad has come down to us. Hints +and even fragments, however, are pointed out in ancient records, mainly +as the material of chronicle or legend. In the Bible (Numbers xxi. 17), +where "Israel sang this song," we are not going too far when we regard +the fragment as part of a communal ballad. "Spring up, O well: sing ye +unto it: the princes digged the well, the nobles of the people digged +it, by the direction of the lawgiver, with their staves." Deborah's song +has something of the communal note; and when Miriam dances and sings +with her maidens, one is reminded of the many ballads made by dancing +and singing bands of women in mediaeval Europe,--for instance, the song +made in the seventh century to the honor of St. Faro, and "sung by the +women as they danced and clapped their hands." The question of ancient +Greek ballads, and their relation to the epic, is not to be discussed +here; nor can we make more than an allusion to the theory of Niebuhr +that the early part of Livy is founded on, old Roman ballads. A popular +discussion of this matter may be found in Macaulay's preface to his own +'Lays of Ancient Rome.' The ballads of modern Europe are a survival of +older communal poetry, more or less influenced by artistic and +individual conditions of authorship, but wholly impersonal, and with an +appeal to our interest which seems to come from a throng and not from +the solitary poet. Attention was early called to the ballads of Spain; +printed at first as broadsides, they were gathered into a volume as +early as 1550. On the other hand, ballads were neglected in France until +very recent times; for specimens of the French ballad, and for an +account of it, the reader should consult Professor Crane's 'Chansons +Populaires de France,' New York, 1891. It is with ballads of the +Germanic race, however, that we are now concerned. Denmark, Norway, +Sweden, Iceland, the Faroe Islands; Scotland and England; the +Netherlands and Germany: all of these countries offer us admirable +specimens of the ballad. Particularly, the great collections of +Grundtvig ('Danmarks Gamle Folkeviser') for Denmark, and of Child ('The +English and Scottish Popular Ballads') for our own tongue, show how +common descent or borrowing connects the individual ballads of these +groups. "Almost every Norwegian, Swedish, or Icelandic ballad," says +Grundtvig, "is found in a Danish version of Scandinavian ballads; +moreover, a larger number can be found in English and Scottish versions +than in German or Dutch versions." Again, we find certain national +preferences in the character of the ballads which have come down to us. +Scandinavia kept the old heroic lays (Kaempeviser); Germany wove them +into her epic, as witness the Nibelungen Lay; but England and Scotland +have none of them in any shape. So, too, the mythic ballad, scantily +represented in English, and practically unknown in Germany, abounds in +Scandinavian collections. The Faroe Islands and Norway, as Grundtvig +tells us, show the best record for ballads preserved by oral tradition; +while noble ladies of Denmark, three or four centuries ago, did high +service to ballad literature by making collections in manuscript of the +songs current then in the castle as in the cottage. + +For England, one is compelled to begin the list of known ballads with +the thirteenth century. 'The Battle of Maldon,' composed in the last +decade of the tenth century, though spirited enough and full of communal +vigor, has no stanzaic structure, follows in metre and style the rules +of the Old English epic, and is only a ballad by courtesy; about the +ballads used a century or two later by historians of England, we can do +nothing but guess; and there is no firm ground under the critic's foot +until he comes to the Robin Hood ballads, which Professor Child assigns +to the thirteenth century. 'The Battle of Otterburn' (1388) opens a +series of ballads based on actual events and stretching into the +eighteenth century. Barring the Robin Hood cycle,--an epic constructed +from this attractive material lies before us in the famous 'Gest of +Robin Hood,' printed as early as 1489,--the chief sources of the +collector are the Percy Manuscript, "written just before 1650,"--on +which, not without omissions and additions, the bishop based his +'Reliques,' first published in 1765,--and the oral traditions of +Scotland, which Professor Child refers to "the last one hundred and +thirty years." Information about the individual ballads, their sources, +history, literary connections, and above all, their varying texts, must +be sought in the noble work of Professor F.J. Child. For present +purposes, a word or two of general information must suffice. As to +origins, there is a wide range. The church furnished its legend, as in +'St. Stephen'; romance contributed the story of 'Thomas Rymer'; and the +light, even cynical _fabliau_ is responsible for 'The Boy and the +Mantle.' Ballads which occur in many tongues either may have a common +origin or else may owe their manifold versions, as in the case of +popular tales, to a love of borrowing; and here, of course, we get the +hint of wider issues. For the most part, however, a ballad tells some +moving story, preferably of fighting and of love. Tragedy is the +dominant note; and English ballads of the best type deal with those +elements of domestic disaster so familiar in the great dramas of +literature, in the story of Orestes, or of Hamlet, or of the Cid. Such +are 'Edward,' 'Lord Randal,' 'The Two Brothers,' 'The Two Sisters,' +'Child Maurice,' 'Bewick and Graham,' 'Clerk Colven,' 'Little Musgrave +and Lady Barnard,' 'Glasgerion,' and many others. Another group of +ballads, represented by the 'Baron of Brackley' and 'Captain Car,' give +a faithful picture of the feuds and ceaseless warfare in Scotland and on +the border. A few fine ballads--'Sweet William's Ghost,' 'The Wife of +Usher's Well'--touch upon the supernatural. Of the romantic ballads, +'Childe Waters' shows us the higher, and 'Young Beichan' the lower, but +still sound and communal type. Incipient dramatic tendencies mark +'Edward' and 'Lord Randal'; while, on the other hand, a lyric note +almost carries 'Bonnie George Campbell' out of balladry. Finally, it is +to be noted that in the 'Nut-Brown Maid,' which many would +unhesitatingly refer to this class of poetry, we have no ballad at all, +but a dramatic lyric, probably written by a woman, and with a special +plea in the background. + +[Illustration: Signature: F.B. Gummere] + + + ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE[8] + + 1. When shawes[9] beene sheene[10], and shradds[11] full fayre, + And leeves both large and longe, + It is merry, walking in the fayre forrest, + To heare the small birds' songe. + + 2. The woodweele[12] sang, and wold not cease, + Amongst the leaves a lyne[13]; + And it is by two wight[14] yeomen, + By deare God, that I meane. + + * * * * * + + 3. "Me thought they[15] did me beate and binde, + And tooke my bow me fro; + If I bee Robin alive in this lande, + I'll be wrocken[16] on both them two." + + 4. "Sweavens[17] are swift, master," quoth John, + "As the wind that blowes ore a hill; + For if it be never soe lowde this night, + To-morrow it may be still." + + 5. "Buske ye, bowne ye[18], my merry men all, + For John shall go with me; + For I'll goe seeke yond wight yeomen + In greenwood where they bee." + + 6. They cast on their gowne of greene, + A shooting gone are they, + Until they came to the merry greenwood, + Where they had gladdest bee; + There were they ware of a wight yeoman, + His body leaned to a tree. + + 7. A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, + Had beene many a man's bane[19], + And he was cladd in his capull-hyde[20], + Topp, and tayle, and mayne. + + 8. "Stand you still, master," quoth Litle John, + "Under this trusty tree, + And I will goe to yond wight yeoman, + To know his meaning trulye." + + 9. "A, John, by me thou setts noe store, + And that's a farley[21] thinge; + How offt send I my men before, + And tarry myselfe behinde?" + + 10. "It is noe cunning a knave to ken, + And a man but heare him speake; + And it were not for bursting of my bowe, + John, I wold thy head breake." + + 11. But often words they breeden bale, + That parted Robin and John; + John is gone to Barnesdale, + The gates[22] he knowes eche one. + + 12. And when hee came to Barnesdale, + Great heavinesse there hee hadd; + He found two of his fellowes + Were slaine both in a slade[23], + + 13. And Scarlett a foote flyinge was, + Over stockes and stone, + For the sheriffe with seven score men + Fast after him is gone. + + 14. "Yet one shoote I'll shoote," sayes Litle John, + "With Crist his might and mayne; + I'll make yond fellow that flyes soe fast + To be both glad and faine." + + 15. John bent up a good veiwe bow[24], + And fetteled[25] him to shoote; + The bow was made of a tender boughe, + And fell downe to his foote. + + 16. "Woe worth[26] thee, wicked wood," sayd Litle John, + "That ere thou grew on a tree! + For this day thou art my bale, + My boote[27] when thou shold bee!" + + 17. This shoote it was but looselye shott, + The arrowe flew in vaine, + And it mett one of the sheriffe's men; + Good William a Trent was slaine. + + 18. It had beene better for William a Trent + To hange upon a gallowe + Then for to lye in the greenwoode, + There slaine with an arrowe. + + 19. And it is sayed, when men be mett, + Six can doe more than three: + And they have tane Litle John, + And bound him fast to a tree. + + 20. "Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe," quoth the sheriffe[28], + "And hanged hye on a hill:" + "But thou may fayle," quoth Litle John + "If it be Christ's owne will." + + 21. Let us leave talking of Litle John, + For hee is bound fast to a tree, + And talke of Guy and Robin Hood + In the green woode where they bee. + + 22. How these two yeomen together they mett, + Under the leaves of lyne, + To see what marchandise they made + Even at that same time. + + 23. "Good morrow, good fellow," quoth Sir Guy; + "Good morrow, good fellow," quoth hee; + "Methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand, + A good archer thou seems to bee." + + 24. "I am wilfull of my way[29]," quoth Sir Guy, + "And of my morning tyde:" + "I'll lead thee through the wood," quoth Robin, + "Good fellow, I'll be thy guide." + + 25. "I seeke an outlaw," quoth Sir Guy, + "Men call him Robin Hood; + I had rather meet with him upon a day + Then forty pound of golde." + + 26. "If you tow mett, it wold be seene whether were better + Afore yee did part awaye; + Let us some other pastime find, + Good fellow, I thee pray." + + 27. "Let us some other masteryes make, + And we will walke in the woods even; + Wee may chance meet with Robin Hood + At some unsett steven[30]." + + 28. They cutt them downe the summer shroggs[31] + Which grew both under a bryar, + And sett them three score rood in twinn[32], + To shoote the prickes[33] full neare. + + 29. "Leade on, good fellow," sayd Sir Guye, + "Leade on, I doe bidd thee:" + "Nay, by my faith," quoth Robin Hood, + "The leader thou shalt bee." + + 30. The first good shoot that Robin ledd, + Did not shoote an inch the pricke froe, + Guy was an archer good enoughe, + But he could neere shoote soe. + + 31. The second shoote Sir Guy shott, + He shott within the garlande[34], + But Robin Hoode shott it better than hee, + For he clove the good pricke-wande. + + 32. "God's blessing on thy heart!" sayes Guye, + "Goode fellow, thy shooting is goode; + For an thy hart be as good as thy hands, + Thou were better than Robin Hood." + + 33. "Tell me thy name, good fellow," quoth Guye, + "Under the leaves of lyne:" + "Nay, by my faith," quoth good Robin, + "Till thou have told me thine." + + 34. "I dwell by dale and downe," quoth Guye, + "And I have done many a curst turne; + And he that calles me by my right name, + Calles me Guye of good Gysborne." + + 35. "My dwelling is in the wood," sayes Robin; + "By thee I set right nought; + My name is Robin Hood of Barnesdale, + A fellow thou hast long sought." + + 36. He that had neither beene a kithe nor kin + Might have seene a full fayre sight. + To see how together these yeomen went, + With blades both browne and bright. + + 37. To have seene how these yeomen together fought + Two howers of a summer's day; + It was neither Guy nor Robin Hood + That fettled them to flye away. + + 38. Robin was reacheles[35] on a roote, + And stumbled at that tyde, + And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all, + And hitt him ore the left side. + + 39. "Ah, deere Lady!" sayd Robin Hoode, + "Thou art both mother and may[36]! + I thinke it was never man's destinye + To dye before his day." + + 40. Robin thought on Our Lady deere, + And soone leapt up againe, + And thus he came with an awkwarde[37] stroke; + Good Sir Guy hee has slayne. + + 41. He tooke Sir Guy's head by the hayre, + And sticked it on his bowe's end: + "Thou has beene traytor all thy life, + Which thing must have an ende." + + 42. Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe, + And nicked Sir Guy in the face, + That he was never on[38] a woman borne + Could tell who Sir Guye was. + + 43. Saies, Lye there, lye there, good Sir Guye, + And with me not wrothe; + If thou have had the worse stroakes at my hand, + Thou shalt have the better cloathe. + + 44. Robin did off his gowne of greene, + Sir Guye he did it throwe; + And he put on that capull-hyde + That clad him topp to toe. + + 45. "Tis bowe, the arrowes, and litle horne, + And with me now I'll beare; + For now I will goe to Barnesdale, + To see how my men doe fare." + + 46. Robin sett Guye's horne to his mouth, + A lowd blast in it he did blow; + That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham, + As he leaned under a lowe[39]. + + 47. "Hearken! hearken!" sayd the sheriffe, + "I heard noe tydings but good; + For yonder I heare Sir Guye's horne blowe, + For he hath slaine Robin Hoode." + + 48. "For yonder I heare Sir Guye's horne blowe, + It blowes soe well in tyde, + For yonder conies that wighty yeoman + Cladd in his capull-hyde." + + 49. "Come hither, thou good Sir Guy, + Aske of mee what thou wilt have:" + "I'll none of thy gold," sayes Robin Hood, + "Nor I'll none of it have." + + 50. "But now I have slaine the master," he sayd, + "Let me goe strike the knave; + This is all the reward I aske, + Nor noe other will I have." + + 51. "Thou art a madman," said the sheriffe, + "Thou sholdest have had a knight's fee; + Seeing thy asking hath beene soe badd, + Well granted it shall be." + + 52. But Litle John heard his master speake, + Well he knew that was his steven[40]; + "Now shall I be loset," quoth Litle John, + "With Christ's might in heaven." + + 53. But Robin hee hyed him towards Litle John, + Hee thought hee wold loose him belive; + The sheriffe and all his companye + Fast after him did drive. + + 54. "Stand abacke! stand abacke!" sayd Robin; + "Why draw you mee soe neere? + It was never the use in our countrye + One's shrift another should heere." + + 55. But Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffe, + And losed John hand and foote, + And gave him Sir Guye's bow in his hand, + And bade it be his boote. + + 56. But John tooke Guye's bow in his hand + (His arrowes were rawstye[41] by the roote); + The sherriffe saw Litle John draw a bow + And fettle him to shoote. + + 57. Towards his house in Nottingham + He fled full fast away, + And so did all his companye, + Not one behind did stay. + + 58. But he cold neither soe fast goe, + Nor away soe fast runn, + But Litle John, with an arrow broade, + Did cleave his heart in twinn. + + [Footnote 8: This ballad is a good specimen of the Robin Hood + Cycle, and is remarkable for its many proverbial and + alliterative phrases. A few lines have been lost between + stanzas 2 and 3. Gisborne is a "market-town in the West + Riding of the County of York, on the borders of Lancashire." + For the probable tune of the ballad, see Chappell's 'Popular + Music of the Olden Time,' ii. 397.] + + [Footnote 9: Woods, groves.--This touch of description at the + outset is common in our old ballads, as well as in the + mediaeval German popular lyric, and may perhaps spring from + the old "summer-lays" and chorus of pagan times.] + + [Footnote 10: Beautiful; German, _schoen_.] + + [Footnote 11: Coppices or openings in a wood.] + + [Footnote 12: In some glossaries the woodpecker, but here of + course a song-bird,--perhaps, as Chappell suggests, the + woodlark.] + + [Footnote 13: _A_, on; _lyne_, lime or linden.] + + [Footnote 14: Sturdy, brave.] + + [Footnote 15: Robin now tells of a dream in which "they" + (=the two "wight yeomen," who are Guy and, as Professor Child + suggests, the Sheriff of Nottingham) maltreat him; and he + thus foresees trouble "from two quarters."] + + [Footnote 16: Revenged.] + + [Footnote 17: Dreams.] + + [Footnote 18: Tautological phrase,--"prepare and make + ready."] + + [Footnote 19: Murder, destruction.] + + [Footnote 20: Horse's hide.] + + [Footnote 21: Strange.] + + [Footnote 22: Paths.] + + [Footnote 23: Green valley between woods.] + + [Footnote 24: Perhaps the yew-bow.] + + [Footnote 25: Made ready.] + + [Footnote 26: "Woe be to thee." _Worth_ is the old + subjunctive present of an exact English equivalent to the + modern German _werden_.] + + [Footnote 27: Note these alliterative phrases. _Boote_, + remedy.] + + [Footnote 28: As Percy noted, this "quoth the sheriffe," was + probably added by some explainer. The reader, however, must + remember the license of slurring or contracting the syllables + of a word, as well as the opposite freedom of expansion. Thus + in the second line of stanza 7, _man's_ is to be pronounced + _man-es._] + + [Footnote 29: I have lost my way.] + + [Footnote 30: At some unappointed time,--by chance.] + + [Footnote 31: Stunted shrubs.] + + [Footnote 32: Apart.] + + [Footnote 33: "_Prickes_ seem to have been the long-range + targets, _butts_ the near."--Furnivall.] + + [Footnote 34: _Garlande_, perhaps "the ring within which the + prick was set"; and the _pricke-wande_ perhaps a pole or + stick. The terms are not easy to understand clearly.] + + [Footnote 35: Reckless, careless.] + + [Footnote 36: Maiden.] + + [Footnote 37: Dangerous, or perhaps simply backward, + backhanded.] + + [Footnote 38: _On_ is frequently used for _of_.] + + [Footnote 39: Hillock.] + + [Footnote 40: Voice.] + + [Footnote 41: Rusty] + + + THE HUNTING OF THE CHEVIOT + + [This is the older and better version of the famous ballad. + The younger version was the subject of Addison's papers in + the Spectator.] + + 1. The Percy out of Northumberlande, + and a vowe to God mayd he + That he would hunte in the mountayns + of Cheviot within days thre, + In the magger[42] of doughty Douglas, + and all that ever with him be. + + 2. The fattiste hartes in all Cheviot + he sayd he would kyll, and cary them away: + "Be my feth," sayd the doughty Douglas agayn, + "I will let[43] that hontyng if that I may." + + 3. Then the Percy out of Banborowe cam, + with him a myghtee meany[44], + With fifteen hondred archares bold of blood and bone; + they were chosen out of shyars thre. + + 4. This began on a Monday at morn, + in Cheviot the hillys so he; + The chyld may rue that ys unborn, + it was the more pitte. + + 5. The dryvars thorowe the woodes went, + for to reas the deer; + Bowmen byckarte uppone the bent[45] + with their browd arrows cleare. + + 6. Then the wyld thorowe the woodes went, + on every syde shear; + Greahondes thorowe the grevis glent[46], + for to kyll their deer. + + 7. This begane in Cheviot the hyls abone, + yerly on a Monnyn-day; + Be that it drewe to the hour of noon, + a hondred fat hartes ded ther lay. + + 8. They blewe a mort[47] uppone the bent, + they semblyde on sydis shear; + To the quyrry then the Percy went, + to see the bryttlynge[48] of the deere. + + 9. He sayd, "It was the Douglas promys + this day to met me hear; + But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;" + a great oth the Percy swear. + + 10. At the laste a squyar of Northumberlande + lokyde at his hand full ny; + He was war a the doughtie Douglas commynge, + with him a myghte meany. + + 11. Both with spear, bylle, and brande, + yt was a myghte sight to se; + Hardyar men, both of hart nor hande, + were not in Cristiante. + + 12. They were twenty hondred spear-men good, + withoute any fail; + They were borne along be the water a Twyde, + yth bowndes of Tividale. + + 13. "Leave of the brytlyng of the deer," he said, + "and to your bows look ye tayk good hede; + For never sithe ye were on your mothers borne + had ye never so mickle nede." + + 14. The doughty Douglas on a stede, + he rode alle his men beforne; + His armor glytteyrde as dyd a glede[49]; + a boldar barne was never born. + + 15. "Tell me whose men ye are," he says, + "or whose men that ye be: + Who gave youe leave to hunte in this Cheviot chays, + in the spyt of myn and of me." + + 16. The first man that ever him an answer mayd, + yt was the good lord Percy: + "We wyll not tell the whose men we are," he says, + "nor whose men that we be; + But we wyll hounte here in this chays, + in spyt of thyne and of the." + + 17. "The fattiste hartes in all Cheviot + we have kyld, and cast to carry them away:" + "Be my troth," sayd the doughty Douglas agayn, + "therefor the tone of us shall die this day." + + 18. Then sayd the doughte Douglas + unto the lord Percy, + "To kyll alle thes giltles men, + alas, it wear great pitte!" + + 19. "But, Percy, thowe art a lord of lande, + I am a yerle callyd within my contre; + Let all our men uppone a parti stande, + and do the battell of the and of me." + + 20. "Nowe Cristes curse on his crowne," sayd the lord Percy, + "whosoever thereto says nay; + Be my troth, doughty Douglas," he says, + "thow shalt never se that day." + + 21. "Nethar in Ynglonde, Skottlonde, nor France, + nor for no man of a woman born, + But, and fortune be my chance, + I dar met him, one man for one." + + 22. Then bespayke a squyar of Northumberlande, + Richard Wytharyngton was his name: + "It shall never be told in Sothe-Ynglonde," he says, + "To Kyng Kerry the Fourth for shame." + + 23. "I wat youe byn great lordes twa, + I am a poor squyar of lande: + I wylle never se my captayne fyght on a fylde, + and stande my selffe and looke on, + But whylle I may my weppone welde, + I wylle not fayle both hart and hande." + + 24. That day, that day, that dredfull day! + the first fit here I fynde[50]; + And you wyll hear any more a the hountyng a the Cheviot + yet ys ther mor behynde. + + 25. The Yngglyshe men had their bowys ybent, + ther hartes were good yenoughe; + The first of arrows that they shote off, + seven skore spear-men they sloughe. + + 26. Yet bides the yerle Douglas upon the bent, + a captayne good yenoughe, + And that was sene verament, + for he wrought hem both wo and wouche. + + 27. The Douglas partyd his host in thre, + like a chief chieftain of pryde; + With sure spears of myghtty tre, + they cum in on every syde: + + 28. Throughe our Yngglyshe archery + gave many a wounde fulle wyde; + Many a doughty they garde to dy, + which ganyde them no pryde. + + 29. The Ynglyshe men let ther bowes be, + and pulde out brandes that were brighte; + It was a heavy syght to se + bryght swordes on basnites lyght. + + 30. Thorowe ryche male and myneyeple[51], + many sterne they strocke down straight; + Many a freyke[52] that was fulle fre, + there under foot dyd lyght. + + 31. At last the Douglas and the Percy met, + lyk to captayns of myght and of mayne; + The swapte together tylle they both swat, + with swordes that were of fine milan. + + 32. These worthy freckys for to fyght, + ther-to they were fulle fayne, + Tylle the bloode out off their basnetes sprente, + as ever dyd hail or rayn. + + 33. "Yield thee, Percy," sayd the Douglas, + "and i faith I shalle thee brynge + Where thowe shalte have a yerls wagis + of Jamy our Scottish kynge." + + 34. "Thou shalte have thy ransom fre, + I hight[53] the here this thinge; + For the manfullyste man yet art thow + that ever I conqueryd in fielde fighttynge." + + 35. "Nay," sayd the lord Percy, + "I tolde it thee beforne, + That I wolde never yeldyde be + to no man of a woman born." + + 36. With that ther came an arrow hastely, + forthe off a myghtty wane[54]; + It hath strekene the yerle Douglas + in at the brest-bane. + + 37. Thorowe lyvar and lunges bothe + the sharpe arrowe ys gane, + That never after in all his lyfe-days + he spayke mo wordes but ane: + That was, "Fyghte ye, my myrry men, whyllys ye may, + for my lyfe-days ben gane." + + 38. The Percy leanyde on his brande, + and sawe the Douglas de; + He tooke the dead man by the hande, + and said, "Wo ys me for thee!" + + 39. "To have savyde thy lyfe, I would have partyde with + my landes for years three, + For a better man, of hart nor of hande, + was not in all the north contre." + + 40. Of all that see a Scottish knyght, + was callyd Sir Hewe the Monggombyrry; + He saw the Douglas to the death was dyght, + he spendyd a spear, a trusti tree. + + 41. He rode upon a corsiare + throughe a hondred archery; + He never stynttyde nor never blane[55], + till he came to the good lord Percy. + + 42. He set upon the lorde Percy + a dynte that was full sore; + With a sure spear of a myghtte tree + clean thorow the body he the Percy ber[56], + + 43. A the tother syde that a man might see + a large cloth-yard and mare; + Two better captayns were not in Cristiante + than that day slain were there. + + 44. An archer off Northumberlande + saw slain was the lord Percy; + He bore a bende bowe in his hand, + was made of trusti tree; + + 45. An arrow, that a cloth-yarde was long, + to the harde stele halyde he; + A dynt that was both sad and soar + he set on Sir Hewe the Monggombyrry. + + 46. The dynt yt was both sad and sore, + that he of Monggombyrry set; + The swane-fethars that his arrowe bar + with his hart-blood they were wet. + + 47. There was never a freak one foot wolde flee, + but still in stour[57] dyd stand, + Hewyng on eache other, whyle they myghte dree, + with many a balefull brande. + + 48. This battell begane in Cheviot + an hour before the none, + And when even-songe bell was rang, + the battell was not half done. + + 49. They took ... on either hande + by the lyght of the mone; + Many hade no strength for to stande, + in Cheviot the hillys abon. + + 50. Of fifteen hundred archers of Ynglonde + went away but seventy and three; + Of twenty hundred spear-men of Scotlonde, + but even five and fifty. + + 51. But all were slayne Cheviot within; + they had no strength to stand on by; + The chylde may rue that ys unborne, + it was the more pitte. + + 52. There was slayne, withe the lord Percy, + Sir John of Agerstone, + Sir Rogar, the hinde Hartly, + Sir Wyllyam, the bold Hearone. + + 53. Sir George, the worthy Loumle, + a knyghte of great renown, + Sir Raff, the ryche Rugbe, + with dyntes were beaten downe. + + 54. For Wetharryngton my harte was wo, + that ever he slayne shulde be; + For when both his leggis were hewyn in to, + yet he kneeled and fought on hys knee. + + 55. There was slayne, with the doughty Douglas, + Sir Hewe the Monggombyrry, + Sir Davy Lwdale, that worthy was, + his sister's son was he. + + 56. Sir Charles a Murre in that place, + that never a foot wolde fie; + Sir Hewe Maxwelle, a lorde he was, + with the Douglas dyd he die. + + 57. So on the morrowe they mayde them biers + off birch and hasell so gray; + Many widows, with weepyng tears, + came to fetch ther makys[58] away. + + 58. Tivydale may carpe of care, + Northumberland may mayk great moan, + For two such captayns as slayne were there, + on the March-parti shall never be none. + + 59. Word ys commen to Eddenburrowe, + to Jamy the Scottische kynge, + That doughty Douglas, lyff-tenant of the Marches, + he lay slean Cheviot within. + + 60. His handdes dyd he weal and wryng, + he sayd, "Alas, and woe ys me! + Such an othar captayn Skotland within," + he sayd, "i-faith should never be." + + 61. Worde ys commyn to lovely Londone, + till the fourth Harry our kynge. + That lord Percy, leyff-tenante of the Marchis + he lay slayne Cheviot within. + + 62. "God have merci on his soule," sayde Kyng Harry, + "good lord, yf thy will it be! + I have a hondred captayns in Ynglonde," he sayd, + "as good as ever was he: + But Percy, and I brook my lyfe, + thy deth well quyte shall be." + + 63. As our noble kynge mayd his avowe, + lyke a noble prince of renown, + For the deth of the lord Percy + he dyd the battle of Hombyll-down: + + 64. Where syx and thirty Skottishe knyghtes + on a day were beaten down: + Glendale glytteryde on their armor bryght, + over castille, towar, and town. + + 65. This was the hontynge of the Cheviot, + that tear[59] begane this spurn; + Old men that knowen the grownde well enoughe + call it the battell of Otterburn. + + 66. At Otterburn begane this spume + upon a Monnynday; + There was the doughty Douglas slean, + the Percy never went away. + + 67. There was never a tyme on the Marche-partes + sen the Douglas and the Percy met, + But yt ys mervele and the rede blude ronne not, + as the rain does in the stret. + + 68. Jesus Christ our bales[60] bete, + and to the bliss us bring! + Thus was the hunting of the Cheviot; + God send us alle good ending! + + [Footnote 42: 'Maugre,' in spite of.] + + [Footnote 43: Hinder.] + + [Footnote 44: Company.] + + [Footnote 45: Skirmished on the field.] + + [Footnote 46: Ran through the groves.] + + [Footnote 47: Blast blown when game is killed.] + + [Footnote 48: Quartering, cutting.] + + [Footnote 49: Flame.] + + [Footnote 50: Perhaps "finish."] + + [Footnote 51: "A gauntlet covering hand and forearm."] + + [Footnote 52: Man.] + + [Footnote 53: Promise.] + + [Footnote 54: Meaning uncertain.] + + [Footnote 55: Stopped.] + + [Footnote 56: Pierced.] + + [Footnote 57: Stress of battle.] + + [Footnote 58: Mates.] + + [Footnote 59: That there (?).] + + [Footnote 60: Evils.] + + + JOHNIE COCK + + 1. Up Johnie raise[61] in a May morning, + Calld for water to wash his hands, + And he has called for his gude gray hounds + That lay bound in iron bands, bands, + That lay bound in iron bands. + + 2. "Ye'll busk[62], ye'll busk my noble dogs, + Ye'll busk and make them boun[63], + For I'm going to the Braidscaur hill + To ding the dun deer doun." + + 3. Johnie's mother has gotten word o' that, + And care-bed she has ta'en[64]: + "O Johnie, for my benison, + I beg you'l stay at hame; + For the wine so red, and the well-baken bread, + My Johnie shall want nane." + + 4. "There are seven forsters at Pickeram Side, + At Pickeram where they dwell, + And for a drop of thy heart's bluid + They wad ride the fords of hell." + + 5. But Johnie has cast off the black velvet, + And put on the Lincoln twine, + And he is on the goode greenwood + As fast as he could gang. + + 6. Johnie lookit east, and Johnie lookit west, + And he lookit aneath the sun, + And there he spied the dun deer sleeping + Aneath a buss o' whun[65]. + + 7. Johnie shot, and the dun deer lap[66], + And she lap wondrous wide, + Until they came to the wan water, + And he stem'd her of her pride. + + 8. He has ta'en out the little pen-knife, + 'Twas full three quarters[67] long, + And he has ta'en out of that dun deer + The liver but and[68] the tongue. + + 9. They eat of the flesh, and they drank of the blood, + And the blood it was so sweet, + Which caused Johnie and his bloody hounds + To fall in a deep sleep. + + 10. By then came an old palmer, + And an ill death may he die! + For he's away to Pickeram Side + As fast as he can drie[69]. + + 11. "What news, what news?" says the Seven Forsters, + "What news have ye brought to me?" + "I have no news," the palmer said, + "But what I saw with my eye." + + 12. "As I came in by Braidisbanks, + And down among the whuns, + The bonniest youngster e'er I saw + Lay sleepin amang his hunds." + + 13. "The shirt that was upon his back + Was o' the holland fine; + The doublet which was over that + Was o' the Lincoln twine." + + 14. Up bespake the Seven Forsters, + Up bespake they ane and a': + "O that is Johnie o' Cockleys Well, + And near him we will draw." + + 15. O the first stroke that they gae him, + They struck him off by the knee, + Then up bespake his sister's son: + "O the next'll gar[70] him die!" + + 16. "O some they count ye well wight men, + But I do count ye nane; + For you might well ha' waken'd me, + And ask'd gin I wad be ta'en." + + 17. "The wildest wolf as in a' this wood + Wad not ha' done so by me; + She'd ha' wet her foot i' the wan water, + And sprinkled it o'er my brae, + And if that wad not ha' waken'd me, + She wad ha' gone and let me be." + + 18. "O bows of yew, if ye be true, + In London, where ye were bought, + Fingers five, get up belive[71], + Manhuid shall fail me nought." + + 19. He has kill'd the Seven Forsters, + He has kill'd them all but ane, + And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side, + To carry the bode-words hame. + + 20. "Is there never a [bird] in a' this wood + That will tell what I can say; + That will go to Cockleys Well, + Tell my mither to fetch me away?" + + 21. There was a [bird] into that wood, + That carried the tidings away, + And many ae[72] was the well-wight man + At the fetching o' Johnie away. + + [Footnote 61: Rose.] + + [Footnote 62: Prepare.] + + [Footnote 63: Ready.] + + [Footnote 64: Has fallen ill with anxiety.] + + [Footnote 65: Bush of whin, furze.] + + [Footnote 66: Leaped.] + + [Footnote 67: Quarter--the fourth part of a yard.] + + [Footnote 68: "But and"--as well as.] + + [Footnote 69: Bear, endure.] + + [Footnote 70: Make, cause.] + + [Footnote 71: Quickly.] + + [Footnote 72: One.] + + + SIR PATRICK SPENS + + 1. The king sits in Dumferling toune, + Drinking the blude-reid wine: + "O whar will I get guid sailor, + To sail this ship of mine?" + + 2. Up and spak an eldern knight, + Sat at the kings right kne: + "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor, + That sails upon the sea." + + 3. The king has written a braid letter[73], + And sign'd it wi' his hand, + And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, + Was walking on the sand. + + 4. The first line that Sir Patrick read, + A loud laugh laughed he; + The next line that Sir Patrick read, + The tear blinded his ee. + + 5. "O wha is this has done this deed, + This ill deed done to me, + To send me out this time o' the year, + To sail upon the sea!" + + 6. "Make haste, make haste, my mirry men all, + Our guide ship sails the morne:" + "O say na sae, my master dear, + For I fear a deadlie storme." + + 7. "Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone[74], + Wi' the auld moone in hir arme, + And I fear, I fear, my dear master, + That we will come to harme" + + 8. O our Scots nobles were right laith + To weet their cork-heeled shoone; + But lang owre a' the play wer play'd, + Their hats they swam aboone. + + 9. O lang, lang may their ladies sit, + Wi' their fans into their hand, + Or e'er they see Sir Patrick Spens + Cum sailing to the land. + + 10. O lang, lang may the ladies stand, + Wi' their gold kerns[75] in their hair, + Waiting for their ain dear lords, + For they'll se thame na mair. + + 11. Half owre, half owre to Aberdour, + It's "fiftie fadom deep, + And their lies guid Sir Patrick Spens, + Wi' the Scots lords at his feet." + + [Footnote 73: "_A braid letter_, open or patent, in + opposition to close rolls."--Percy.] + + [Footnote 74: Note that it is the sight of the new moon + _late_ in the evening which makes a bad omen.] + + [Footnote 75: Combs.] + + + THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY[76] + + 1. Ye highlands, and ye Lowlands, + Oh where have you been? + They have slain the Earl of Murray, + And they layd him on the green. + + 2. "Now wae be to thee, Huntly! + And wherefore did you sae? + I bade you bring him wi' you, + But forbade you him to slay." + + 3. He was a braw gallant, + And he rid at the ring[77]; + And the bonny Earl of Murray, + Oh he might have been a king! + + 4. He was a braw gallant, + And he play'd at the ba'; + And the bonny Earl of Murray + Was the flower amang them a'. + + 5. He was a braw gallant, + And he play'd at the glove[78]; + And the bonny Earl of Murray, + Oh he was the Queen's love! + + 6. Oh lang will his lady + Look o'er the Castle Down, + E'er she see the Earl of Murray + Come sounding thro the town! + + [Footnote 76: James Stewart, Earl of Murray, was killed by + the Earl of Huntly's followers, February, 1592. The second + stanza is spoken, of course, by the King.] + + [Footnote 77: Piercing with the lance a suspended ring, as + one rode at full speed, was a favorite sport of the day.] + + [Footnote 78: Probably this reference is to the glove worn by + knights as a lady's favor.] + + + MARY HAMILTON + + 1. Word's gane to the kitchen, + And word's gane to the ha', + That Marie Hamilton has born a bairn + To the highest Stewart of a'. + + 2. She's tyed it in her apron + And she's thrown it in the sea; + Says, "Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe, + You'll ne'er get mair o' me." + + 3. Down then cam the auld Queen, + Goud[79] tassels tying her hair: + "O Marie, where's the bonny wee babe + That I heard greet[80] sae sair?" + + 4. "There was never a babe intill my room, + As little designs to be; + It was but a touch o' my sair side, + Came o'er my fair bodie." + + 5. "O Marie, put on your robes o' black, + Or else your robes o' brown, + For ye maun gang wi' me the night, + To see fair Edinbro town." + + 6. "I winna put on my robes o' black, + Nor yet my robes o' brown; + But I'll put on my robes o' white, + To shine through Edinbro town." + + 7. When she gaed up the Cannogate, + She laugh'd loud laughters three; + But when she cam down the Cannogate + The tear blinded her ee. + + 8. When she gaed up the Parliament stair, + The heel cam aff her shee[81]; + And lang or she cam down again + She was condemn'd to dee. + + 9. When she cam down the Cannogate, + The Cannogate sae free, + Many a ladie look'd o'er her window, + Weeping for this ladie. + + 10. "Make never meen[82] for me," she says, + "Make never meen for me; + Seek never grace frae a graceless face, + For that ye'll never see." + + 11. "Bring me a bottle of wine," she says, + "The best that e'er ye hae, + That I may drink to my weil-wishers, + And they may drink to me." + + 12. "And here's to the jolly sailor lad + That sails upon the faem; + But let not my father nor mother get wit + But that I shall come again." + + 13. "And here's to the jolly sailor lad + That sails upon the sea; + But let not my father nor mother get wit + O' the death that I maun dee." + + 14. "Oh little did my mother think, + The day she cradled me, + What lands I was to travel through, + What death I was to dee." + + 15. "Oh little did my father think, + The day he held up[83] me, + What lands I was to travel through, + What death I was to dee." + + 16. "Last night I wash'd the Queen's feet, + And gently laid her down; + And a' the thanks I've gotten the nicht + To be hangd in Edinbro town!" + + 17. "Last nicht there was four Maries, + The nicht there'll be but three; + There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton, + And Marie Carmichael, and me." + + [Footnote 79: Gold.] + + [Footnote 80: Weep.] + + [Footnote 81: Shoe.] + + [Footnote 82: Moan.] + + [Footnote 83: Held up, lifted up, recognized as his lawful + child,--a world-wide and ancient ceremony.] + + + BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL + + 1. High upon Highlands, + and low upon Tay, + Bonnie George Campbell + rade out on a day. + + 2. Saddled and bridled + and gallant rade he; + Hame cam his guid horse, + but never cam he. + + 3. Out cam his auld mither + greeting fu' sair, + And out cam his bonnie bride + riving her hair. + + 4. Saddled and bridled + and booted rade he; + Toom[84] hame cam the saddle, + but never came he. + + 5. "My meadow lies green, + and my corn is unshorn, + My barn is to build, + and my babe is unborn." + + 6. Saddled and bridled + and booted rade he; + Toom hame cam the saddle, + but never cam he. + + [Footnote 84: Empty.] + + + BESSIE BELL AND MARY GRAY[85] + + 1. O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, + They war twa bonnie lasses! + They biggit[86] a bower on yon burn-brae[87], + And theekit[88] it oer wi rashes. + + 2. They theekit it oer wi' rashes green, + They theekit it oer wi' heather: + But the pest cam frae the burrows-town, + And slew them baith thegither. + + 3. They thought to lie in Methven kirk-yard + Amang their noble kin; + But they maun lye in Stronach haugh, + To biek forenent the sin[89]. + + 4. And Bessie Bell and Mary Gray, + They war twa bonnie lasses; + They biggit a bower on yon burn-brae, + And theekit it oer wi' rashes. + + + THE THREE RAVENS[90] + + 1. There were three ravens sat on a tree, + Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe[91], + There were three ravens sat on a tree, With a downe. + There were three ravens sat on a tree, + They were as blacke as they might be. + With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe. + + 2. The one of them said to his mate, + "Where shall we our breakfast take?" + + 3. "Downe in yonder greene field + There lies a knight slain under his shield." + + 4. His hounds they lie down at his feete, + So well they can their master keepe[92]. + + 5. His haukes they flie so eagerly, + There's no fowle dare him come nie. + + 6. Downe there comes a fallow doe, + As great with young as she might goe. + + 7. She lift up his bloudy head, + And kist his wounds that were so red. + + 8. She got him up upon her backe, + And carried him to earthen lake[93]. + + 9. She buried him before the prime, + She was dead herselfe ere even-song time. + + 10. God send every gentleman + Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman[94]. + + [Footnote 85: Founded on an actual event of the plague, near + Perth, in 1645. See the interesting account in Professor + Child's 'Ballads,' Part VII, p. 75f.] + + [Footnote 86: Built.] + + [Footnote 87: A hill sloping down to a brook.] + + [Footnote 88: Thatched.] + + [Footnote 89: To bake in the rays of the sun.] + + [Footnote 90: The counterpart, or perhaps parody, of this + ballad, called 'The Twa Corbies,' is better known than the + exquisite original.] + + [Footnote 91: The refrain, or burden, differs in another + version of the ballad.] + + [Footnote 92: Guard.] + + [Footnote 93: Shroud of earth, burial.] + + [Footnote 94: Sweetheart, darling, literally 'dear-one' + (liefman). The word had originally no offensive meaning.] + + + LORD RANDAL + + 1. Where hae ye been, Lord Randal, my son? + O where hae ye been, my handsome young man? + "I hae been to the wild wood; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + + 2. "Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? + Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?" + "I din'd wi' my true-love; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + + 3. "What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randal, my son? + What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?" + "I gat eels boiled in broo[95]; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + + 4. "What became o' your bloodhounds, Lord Randal, my son? + What became' o' your bloodhounds, my handsome young man?" + "O they swell'd and they died; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + + 5. "O I fear you are poison'd, Lord Randal, my son! + O I fear you are poison'd, my handsome young man!" + "O yes! I'm poison'd; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down[96]." + + [Footnote 95: Broth.] + + [Footnote 96: Frogs, toads, snakes, and the like were often + served for fish, and of course were supposed to act as a + poison. One variant has a verse to elaborate this:-- + + "Where gat she those eels, Lord Randal, my son? + Where gat she those eels, my handsome young man?" + "'Neath the bush o' brown bracken; mother, make my bed soon, + For I'm weary wi' hunting, and fain wald lie down." + ] + + + EDWARD[97] + + 1. "Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid, + Edward, Edward, + Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid, + And why sae sad gang yee O?" + "O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, + Mither, mither, + O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, + And I had nae mair hot hee O." + + 2. "Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, + Edward, Edward, + Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid, + My deir son I tell thee O." + "O I hae killed my reid-roan steid, + Mither, mither, + O I hae killed my reid-roan steid, + That erst was sae fair and frie O." + + 3. "Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, + Edward, Edward, + Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, + Sum other dule ye drie O[98]." + "O I hae killed my fadir deir, + Mither, mither, + O I hae killed my fadir deir, + Alas, and wae is mee O!" + + 4. "And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that, + Edward, Edward, + And whatten penance wul ye drie, for that? + My deir son, now tell me O." + "I'll set my feit in yonder boat, + Mither, mither, + I'll set my feit in yonder boat, + And I'll fare over the sea O." + + 5. "And what wul ye doe wi' your towers and your ha', + Edward, Edward, + And what wul ye doe wi' your towers and your ha', + That were sae fair to see O?" + "I'll let them stand till they doun fa', + Mither, mither, + I'll let them stand till they doun fa', + For here nevir mair maun I bee O." + + 6. "And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, + Edward, Edward, + And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, + When ye gang over the sea O?" + "The warldis room; let them beg thrae life, + Mither, mither, + The warldis room; let them beg thrae life, + For them never mair wul I see O." + + 7. "And what wul ye leive to your ain mither dear, + Edward, Edward, + And what will ye leive to your ain mither dear? + My dear son, now tell me O." + "The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, + Mither, mither, + The curse of hell frae me sall ye beir, + Sic counsels ye gave to me O." + + [Footnote 97: One of the finest of our ballads. It was sent + from Scotland to Percy by David Dalrymple.] + + [Footnote 98: You suffer some other sorrow.] + + + THE TWA BROTHERS + + 1. There were twa brethren in the north, + They went to the school thegither; + The one unto the other said, + "Will you try a warsle[99] afore?" + + 2. They warsled up, they warsled down, + Till Sir John fell to the ground, + And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch, + Gied him a deadlie wound. + + 3. "Oh brither dear, take me on your back, + Carry me to yon burn clear, + And wash the blood from off my wound, + And it will bleed nae mair." + + 4. He took him up upon his back, + Carried him to yon burn clear, + And washed the blood from off his wound, + But aye it bled the mair. + + 5. "Oh brither dear, take me on your back, + Carry me to yon kirk-yard, + And dig a grave baith wide and deep. + And lay my body there." + + 6. He's taen him up upon his back, + Carried him to yon kirk-yard, + And dug a grave baith deep and wide, + And laid his body there. + + 7. "But what will I say to my father dear, + Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar's John?" + "Oh say that he's to England gone, + To buy him a cask of wine." + + 8. "And what will I say to my mother dear, + Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?" + "Oh say that he's to England gone, + To buy her a new silk gown." + + 9. "And what will I say to my sister dear, + Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?" + "Oh say that he's to England gone, + To buy her a wedding ring." + + 10. "But what will I say to her you loe[100] dear, + Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?" + "Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair, + And home again will never come." + + [Footnote 99: Wrestle.] + + [Footnote 100: Love.] + + + BABYLON; OR THE BONNIE BANKS O' FORDIE + + 1. There were three ladies lived in a bower, + Eh vow bonnie, + And they went out to pull a flower + On the bonnie banks o' Fordie. + + 2. They hadna pu'ed a flower but ane, + When up started to them a banisht man. + + 3. He's ta'en the first sister by her hand, + And he's turned her round and made her stand. + + 4. "It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, + Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?" + + 5. "It's I'll not be a rank robber's wife, + But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife!" + + 6. He's killed this may, and he's laid her by, + For to bear the red rose company. + + 7. He's taken the second ane by the hand, + And he's turned her round and made her stand. + + 8. "It's whether will ye be a rank robber's wife, + Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?" + + 9. "I'll not be a rank robber's wife, + But I'll rather die by your wee pen-knife." + + 10. He's killed this may, and he's laid her by, + For to bear the red rose company. + + 11. He's taken the youngest ane by the hand, + And he's turned her round and made her stand. + + 12. Says, "Will ye be a rank robber's wife, + Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife?" + + 13. "I'll not be a rank robber's wife, + Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife." + + 14. "For I hae a brother in this wood, + And gin ye kill me, it's he'll kill thee." + + 15. "What's thy brother's name? Come tell to me." + "My brother's name is Baby Lon." + + 16. "O sister, sister, what have I done! + O have I done this ill to thee!" + + 17. "O since I've done this evil deed, + Good sall never be seen o' me." + + 18. He's taken out his wee pen-knife, + And he's twyned[101] himsel o' his own sweet life. + + [Footnote 101: Parted, deprived.] + + + CHILDE MAURICE[102] + + 1. Childe Maurice hunted i' the silver wood, + He hunted it round about, + And noebodye that he found therein, + Nor none there was without. + + 2. He says, "Come hither, thou little foot-page, + That runneth lowlye by my knee, + For thou shalt goe to John Steward's wife + And pray her speake with me." + + 3. ".... + .... + I, and greete thou doe that ladye well, + Ever soe well fro me." + + 4. "And, as it falls, as many times + As knots beene knit on a kell[103], + Or marchant men gone to leeve London + Either to buy ware or sell." + + 5. "And, as it falles, as many times + As any hart can thinke, + Or schoole-masters are in any schoole-house + Writing with pen and inke: + For if I might, as well as she may, + This night I would with her speake." + + 6. "And heere I send her a mantle of greene, + As greene as any grasse, + And bid her come to the silver wood, + To hunt with Child Maurice." + + 7. "And there I send her a ring of gold, + A ring of precious stone, + And bid her come to the silver wood, + Let[104] for no kind of man." + + 8. One while this little boy he yode[105], + Another while he ran, + Until he came to John Steward's hall, + I-wis[106] he never blan[107]. + + 9. And of nurture the child had good, + He ran up hall and bower free, + And when he came to this ladye faire, + Sayes, "God you save and see[108]!" + + 10. "I am come from Child Maurice, + A message unto thee; + And Child Maurice, he greetes you well, + And ever soe well from me." + + 11. "And as it falls, as oftentimes + As knots beene knit on a kell, + Or marchant men gone to leeve London + Either for to buy ware or sell." + + 12. "And as oftentimes he greetes you well + As any hart can thinke, + Or schoolemasters are in any schoole, + Wryting with pen and inke." + + 13. "And heere he sends a mantle of greene[109], + As greene as any grasse, + And he bids you come to the silver wood, + To hunt with Child Maurice." + + 14. "And heere he sends you a ring of gold, + A ring of the precious stone; + He prayes you to come to the silver wood, + Let for no kind of man." + + 15. "Now peace, now peace, thou little foot-page, + For Christes sake, I pray thee! + For if my lord heare one of these words, + Thou must be hanged hye!" + + 16. John Steward stood under the castle wall, + And he wrote the words everye one, + .... + .... + + 17. And he called upon his hors-keeper, + "Make ready you my steede!" + I, and soe he did to his chamberlaine, + "Make ready thou my weede[110]!" + + 18. And he cast a lease[111] upon his backe, + And he rode to the silver wood, + And there he sought all about, + About the silver wood. + + 19. And there he found him Child Maurice + Sitting upon a blocke, + With a silver combe in his hand, + Kembing his yellow lockes. + .... + + 20. But then stood up him Child Maurice, + And sayd these words trulye: + "I doe not know your ladye," he said, + "If that I doe her see." + + 21. He sayes, "How now, how now, Child Maurice? + Alacke, how may this be? + For thou hast sent her love-tokens, + More now then two or three;" + + 22. "For thou hast sent her a mantle of greene, + As greene as any grasse, + And bade her come to the silver woode + To hunt with Child Maurice." + + 23. "And thou hast sent her a ring of gold, + A ring of precyous stone, + And bade her come to the silver wood, + Let for no kind of man." + + 24. "And by my faith, now, Child Maurice, + The tone[112] of us shall dye!" + "Now be my troth," sayd Child Maurice, + "And that shall not be I." + + 25. But he pulled forth a bright browne[113] sword, + And dryed it on the grasse, + And soe fast he smote at John Steward, + I-wisse he never did rest. + + 26. Then he[114] pulled forth his bright browne sword, + And dryed it on his sleeve, + And the first good stroke John Stewart stroke, + Child Maurice head he did cleeve. + + 27. And he pricked it on his sword's poynt, + Went singing there beside, + And he rode till he came to that ladye faire, + Whereas this ladye lyed[115]. + + 28. And sayes, "Dost thou know Child Maurice head, + If that thou dost it see? + And lap it soft, and kisse it oft, + For thou lovedst him better than me." + + 29. But when she looked on Child Maurice head, + She never spake words but three:-- + "I never beare no childe but one, + And you have slaine him trulye." + + 30. Sayes[116], "Wicked be my merrymen all, + I gave meate, drinke, and clothe! + But could they not have holden me + When I was in all that wrath!" + + 31. "For I have slaine one of the curteousest knights + That ever bestrode a steed, + So[117] have I done one of the fairest ladyes + That ever ware woman's weede!" + + [Footnote 102: It is worth while to quote Gray's praise of + this ballad:--"I have got the old Scotch ballad on which + 'Douglas' [the well-known tragedy by Home] was founded. It is + divine.... Aristotle's best rules are observed in a manner + which shows the author never had heard of Aristotle."--Letter + to Mason, in 'Works,' ed. Gosse, ii. 316.] + + [Footnote 103: That is, the page is to greet the lady as many + times as there are knots in nets for the hair (_kell_), or + merchants going to dear (_leeve_, lief) London, or thoughts + of the heart, or schoolmasters in all schoolhouses. These + multiplied and comparative greetings are common in folk-lore, + particularly in German popular lyric.] + + [Footnote 104: _Let_ (desist) is an infinitive depending on + _bid_.] + + [Footnote 105: Went, walked.] + + [Footnote 106: Certainly.] + + [Footnote 107: Stopped.] + + [Footnote 108: Protect.] + + [Footnote 109: These, of course, are tokens of the Childe's + identity.] + + [Footnote 110: Clothes.] + + [Footnote 111: Leash.] + + [Footnote 112: That one = the one. _That_ is the old neuter + form of the definite article. Cf. _the tother_ for + _that other_.] + + [Footnote 113: _Brown_, used in this way, seems to mean + burnished, or glistening, and is found in Anglo-Saxon.] + + [Footnote 114: _He_, John Steward.] + + [Footnote 115: Lived.] + + [Footnote 116: John Steward.] + + [Footnote 117: Compare the similar swiftness of tragic + development in 'Babylon.']¸ + + + THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL + + 1. There lived a wife at Usher's Well, + And a wealthy wife was she; + She had three stout and stalwart sons, + And sent them o'er the sea. + + 2. They hadna been a week from her, + A week but barely ane, + When word came to the carlin[118] wife + That her three sons were gane. + + 3. They hadna been a week from her, + A week but barely three, + When word came to the carlin wife + That her sons she'd never see. + + 4. "I wish the wind may never cease, + Nor fashes[119] in the flood, + Till my three sons come hame to me, + In earthly flesh and blood." + + 5. It fell about the Martinmass[120], + When nights are lang and mirk, + The carlin wife's three sons came hame, + And their hats were o' the birk[121]. + + 6. It neither grew in syke[122] nor ditch, + Nor yet in ony sheugh[123], + But at the gates o' Paradise, + That birk grew fair eneugh. + + * * * * * + + 7. "Blow up the fire, my maidens! + Bring water from the well! + For a' my house shall feast this night, + Since my three sons are well." + + 8. And she has made to them a bed, + She's made it large and wide, + And she's ta'en her mantle her about, + Sat down at the bed-side. + + * * * * * + + 9. Up then crew the red, red cock[124], + And up and crew the gray; + The eldest to the youngest said, + "'Tis time we were away." + + 10. The cock he hadna craw'd but once, + And clapp'd his wing at a', + When the youngest to the eldest said, + "Brother, we must awa'." + + 11. "The cock doth craw, the day doth daw. + The channerin[125] worm doth chide; + Gin we be mist out o' our place, + A sair pain we maun bide." + + 12. "Fare ye weel, my mother dear! + Fareweel to barn and byre! + And fare ye weel, the bonny lass + That kindles my mother's fire!" + + [Footnote 118: Old woman.] + + [Footnote 119: Lockhart's clever emendation for the _fishes_ + of the Ms. _Fashes_ = disturbances, storms.] + + [Footnote 120: November 11th. Another version gives the time + as "the hallow days of Yule."] + + [Footnote 121: Birch.] + + [Footnote 122: Marsh.] + + [Footnote 123: Furrow, ditch.] + + [Footnote 124: In folk-lore, the break of day is announced to + demons and ghosts by three cocks,--usually a white, a red, + and a black; but the colors, and even the numbers, vary. At + the third crow, the ghosts must vanish. This applies to + guilty and innocent alike; of course, the sons are "spirits + of health."] + + [Footnote 125: Fretting.] + + + SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST + + 1. Whan bells war rung, an mass was sung, + A wat[126] a' man to bed were gone, + Clark Sanders came to Margret's window, + With mony a sad sigh and groan. + + 2. "Are ye sleeping, Margret," he says, + "Or are ye waking, presentlie? + Give me my faith and trouth again, + A wat, true-love, I gied to thee." + + 3. "Your faith and trouth ye's never get, + Nor our true love shall never twin[127], + Till ye come with me in my bower, + And kiss me both cheek and chin." + + 4. "My mouth it is full cold, Margret, + It has the smell now of the ground; + And if I kiss thy comely mouth, + Thy life-days will not be long." + + 5. "Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf[128], + I wat the wild fule boded day; + Give me my faith and trouth again, + And let me fare me on my way." + + 6. "Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get, + Nor our true love shall never twin, + Till ye tell me what comes of women + A wat that dy's in strong traveling[129]." + + 7. "Their beds are made in the heavens high, + Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee, + Well set about wi' gilly-flowers, + A wat sweet company for to see." + + 8. "O cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf, + A wat the wild fule boded day; + The salms of Heaven will be sung, + And ere now I'll be missed away." + + 9. Up she has taen a bright long wand, + And she has straked her trouth thereon[130]; + She has given it him out at the shot-window, + Wi mony a sad sigh and heavy groan. + + 10. "I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret, + And I thank you heartilie; + Gin ever the dead come for the quick, + Be sure, Margret, I'll come again for thee." + + 11. It's hose and shoon an gound[131] alane + She clame the wall and followed him, + Until she came to a green forest, + On this she lost the sight of him. + + 12. "Is there any room at your head, Sanders? + Is there any room at your feet? + Or any room at your twa sides? + Where fain, fain woud I sleep." + + 13. "There is nae room at my head, Margret, + There is nae room at my feet; + There is room at my twa sides, + For ladys for to sleep." + + 14. "Cold meal[132] is my covering owre, + But an[133] my winding sheet: + My bed it is full low, I say, + Among hungry worms I sleep." + + 15. "Cold meal is my covering owre, + But an my winding sheet: + The dew it falls nae sooner down + Than ay it is full weet." + + [Footnote 126: "I wot," "I know," = truly, in sooth. The same + in 5-2, 6-4, 7-4, 8-2.] + + [Footnote 127: Part, separate. She does not yet know he is + dead.] + + [Footnote 128: Probably the distorted name of a town; _a_ = + in. "Cocks are crowing in merry--, and the wild-fowl announce + the dawn."] + + [Footnote 129: That die in childbirth.] + + [Footnote 130: Margaret thus gives him back his troth-plight + by "stroking" it upon the wand, much as savages and peasants + believe they can rid themselves of a disease by rubbing the + affected part with a stick or pebble and flinging the latter + into the road.] + + [Footnote 131: Gown.] + + [Footnote 132: Mold, earth.] + + [Footnote 133: But and==also.] + + + + +HONORE DE BALZAC + +(1799-1850) + +BY WILLIAM P. TRENT + + +Honore de Balzac, by common consent the greatest of French novelists and +to many of his admirers the greatest of all writers of prose fiction, +was born at Tours, May 16th, 1799. Neither his family nor his place of +birth counts for much in his artistic development; but his sister Laure, +afterwards Madame Surville,--to whom we owe a charming sketch of her +brother and many of his most delightful letters,--made him her hero +through life, and gave him a sympathy that was better than any merely +literary environment. He was a sensitive child, little comprehended by +his parents or teachers, which probably accounts for the fact that few +writers have so well described the feelings of children so situated [See +'Le lys dans la vallee' (The Lily in the Valley) and 'Louis Lambert']. +He was not a good student, but undermined his health by desultory though +enormous reading and by writing a precocious Treatise on the Will, which +an irate master burned and the future novelist afterwards naively +deplored. When brought home to recuperate, he turned from books to +nature, and the effects of the beautiful landscape of Touraine upon his +imagination are to be found throughout his writings, in passages of +description worthy of a nature-worshiper like Senancour himself. About +this time a vague desire for fame seems to have seized him,--a desire +destined to grow into an almost morbid passion; and it was a kindly +Providence that soon after (1814) led his family to quit the stagnant +provinces for that nursery of ambition, Paris. Here he studied under new +masters, heard lectures at the Sorbonne, read in the libraries, and +finally, at the desire of his practical father, took a three years' +course in law. + +[Illustration: HON. DE BALZAC.] + +He was now at the parting of the ways, and he chose the one nearest his +heart. After much discussion, it was settled that he should not be +obliged to return to the provinces with his family, or to enter upon the +regular practice of law, but that he might try his luck as a writer on +an allowance purposely fixed low enough to test his constancy and +endurance. Two years was the period of probation allotted, during which +time Balzac read still more widely and walked the streets studying the +characters he met, all the while endeavoring to grind out verses for a +tragedy on Cromwell. This, when completed, was promptly and justly +damned by his family, and he was temporarily forced to retire from +Paris. He did not give up his aspirations, however, and before long he +was back in his attic, this time supporting himself by his pen. Novels, +not tragedies, were what the public most wanted, so he labored +indefatigably to supply their needs and his own necessities; not +relinquishing, however, the hope that he might some day watch the +performance of one of his own plays. His perseverance was destined to be +rewarded, for he lived to write five dramas which fill a volume of his +collected works; but only one, the posthumous comedy 'Mercadet', was +even fairly successful. Yet that Balzac had dramatic genius his matured +novels abundantly prove. + +The ten romances, however, that he wrote for cheap booksellers between +1822 and 1829 displayed so little genius of any sort that he was +afterwards unwilling to cover their deficiencies with his great name. +They have been collected as youthful works ('Oeuvres de jeunesse'), and +are useful to a complete understanding of the evolution of their +author's genius; but they are rarely read even by his most devoted +admirers. They served, however, to enable him to get through his long +and heart-rending period of apprenticeship, and they taught him how to +express himself; for this born novelist was not a born writer and had to +labor painfully to acquire a style which only at rare moments quite +fitted itself to the subject he had in hand. + +Much more interesting than these early sensational romances were the +letters he wrote to his sister Laure, in which he grew eloquent over his +ambition and gave himself needed practice in describing the characters +with whom he came in contact. But he had not the means to wait quietly +and ripen, so he embarked in a publishing business which brought him +into debt. Then, to make up his losses, he became partner in a printing +enterprise which failed in 1827, leaving him still more embarrassed +financially, but endowed with a fund of experience which he turned to +rich account as a novelist. Henceforth the sordid world of debt, +bankruptcy, usury, and speculation had no mystery for him, and he laid +it bare in novel after novel, utilizing also the knowledge he had gained +of the law, and even pressing into service the technicalities of the +printing office [See 'Illusions perdues' (Lost Illusions)]. But now at +the age of twenty-eight he had over 100,000 francs to pay, and had +written nothing better than some cheap stories; the task of wiping out +his debts by his writings seemed therefore a more hopeless one than +Scott's. Nothing daunted, however, he set to work, and the year that +followed his second failure in business saw the composition of the first +novel he was willing to acknowledge, 'Les Chouans.' This romance of +Brittany in 1799 deserved the praise it received from press and public, +in spite of its badly jointed plot and overdrawn characters. It still +appeals to many readers, and is important to the 'Comedie humaine' as +being the only novel of the "Military Scenes.". The 'Physiology of +Marriage' followed quickly (1829-30), and despite a certain pruriency of +imagination, displayed considerable powers of analysis, powers destined +shortly to distinguish a story which ranks high among its author's +works, 'La Maison du chat-qui-pelote' (1830). This delightful novelette, +the queer title of which is nearly equivalent to 'At the Sign of the Cat +and the Racket,' showed in its treatment of the heroine's unhappy +passion the intuition and penetration of the born psychologist, and in +its admirable description of bourgeois life the pictorial genius of the +genuine realist. In other words the youthful romancer was merged once +for all in the matured novelist. The years of waiting and observation +had done their work, and along the streets of Paris now walked the most +profound analyst of human character that had scrutinized society since +the days when William Shakespeare, fresh from Stratford, trod the +streets and lanes of Elizabethan London. + +The year 1830 marks the beginning not merely of Balzac's success as the +greatest of modern realists, but also of his marvelous literary +activity. Novel after novel is begun before its predecessor is finished; +short stories of almost perfect workmanship are completed; sketches are +dashed off that will one day find their appropriate place in larger +compositions, as yet existing only in the brain of the master. Nor is it +merely a question of individual works: novels and stories are to form +different series,--'Scenes from Private Life,' 'Philosophical Novels and +Tales,'--which are themselves destined to merge into 'Studies of Manners +in the Nineteenth Century,' and finally into the 'Comedie humaine' +itself. Yet it was more than a swarm of stories that was buzzing in his +head; it was a swarm of individuals often more truly alive to him than +the friends with whom he loved to converse about them. And just because +he knew these people of his brain, just because he entered into the +least details of their daily lives, Balzac was destined to become much +more than a mere philosopher or student of society; to wit, a creator of +characters, endowed with that "absolute dramatic vision" which +distinguishes Homer and Shakespeare and Chaucer. But because he was also +something of a philosopher and student of sociology, he conceived the +stupendous idea of linking these characters with one another and with +their several environments, in order that he might make himself not +merely the historian but also the creator of an entire society. In other +words, conservative though he was, Balzac had the audacity to range +himself by the side of Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, and to espouse the cause +of evolution even in its infancy. The great ideas of the mutability of +species and of the influence of environment and heredity were, he +thought, as applicable to sociology as to zooelogy, and as applicable to +fiction as to either. So he meditated the 'Comedie humaine' for several +years before he announced it in 1842, and from being almost the rival of +Saint-Hilaire he became almost the anticipator of Darwin. + +But this idea of evolution was itself due to the evolution of his +genius, to which many various elements contributed: his friendships and +enmities with contemporary authors, his intimacies with women of +refinement and fashion, his business struggles with creditors and +publishers, his frequent journeys to the provinces and foreign +countries; and finally his grandiose schemes to surround himself with +luxury and the paraphernalia of power, not so much for his own sake as +for the sake of her whose least smile was a delight and an inspiration. +About each of these topics an interesting chapter might be written, but +here a few words must suffice. + +After his position as an author was more or less assured, Balzac's +relations with the leaders of his craft--such as Victor Hugo, Theophile +Gautier, and George Sand--were on the whole cordial. He had trouble with +Sainte-Beuve, however, and often felt that his brother-writers begrudged +his success. His constant attacks on contemporary journalists, and his +egotistic and erratic manners naturally prejudiced the critics, so that +even the marvelous romance entitled 'La Peau de chagrin' (The Magic +Skin: 1831),--a work of superb genius,--speedily followed as it was by +'Eugenie Grandet' and 'Le Pere Goriot,' did not win him cordial +recognition. One or two of his friendships, however, gave him a +knowledge of higher social circles than he was by birth entitled to, a +fact which should be remembered in face of the charge that he did not +know high life, although it is of course true that a writer like Balzac, +possessing the intuition of genius, need not frequent salons or live in +hovels in order to describe them with absolute verisimilitude. + +With regard to Balzac's debts, the fact should be noted that he might +have paid them off more easily and speedily had he been more prudent. He +cut into the profits of his books by the costly changes he was always +making in his proof-sheets,--changes which the artist felt to be +necessary, but against which the publishers naturally protested. In +reality he wrote his books on his proof-sheets, for he would cut and +hack the original version and make new insertions until he drove his +printers wild. Indeed, composition never became easy to him, although +under a sudden inspiration he could sometimes dash off page after page +while other men slept. He had, too, his affectations; he must even have +a special and peculiar garb in which to write. All these eccentricities +and his outside distractions and ambitions, as well as his noble and +pathetic love affair, entered into the warp and woof of his work with +effects that can easily be detected by the careful student, who should +remember, however, that the master's foibles and peculiarities never for +one moment set him outside the small circle of the men of supreme +genius. He belongs to them by virtue of his tremendous grasp of life in +its totality, his superhuman force of execution and the inevitableness +of his art at its best. + +The decade from 1830 to 1840 is the most prolific period of Balzac's +genius in the creation of individual works; that from 1840 to 1850 is +his great period of philosophical co-ordination and arrangement. In the +first he hewed out materials for his house; in the second he put them +together. This statement is of course relatively true only, for we owe +to the second decade three of his greatest masterpieces: 'Splendeurs et +miseres des courtisanes,' and 'La Cousine Bette' and 'Le Cousin Pons,' +collectively known as 'Les Parents pauvres' (Poor Relations). And what a +period of masterful literary activity the first decade presents! For the +year 1830 alone the Vicomte de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul gives seventy-one +entries, many of slight importance, but some familiar to every student +of modern literature, such as 'El Verdugo,' 'La Maison du +chat-qui-pelote,' 'Gobseck,' 'Adieu,' 'Une Passion dans le desert' (A +Passion in the Desert), 'Un Episode sous la Terreur' (An Episode of the +Terror). For 1831 there are seventy-six entries, among them such +masterpieces as 'Le Reequisitionnaire' (The Conscript), 'Les Proscrits' +(The Outlaws), 'La Peau de chagrin,' and 'Jesus-Christ en Flandre.' In +1832 the number of entries falls to thirty-six, but among them are 'Le +Colonel Chabert,' 'Le Cure de Tours' (The Priest of Tours), 'La Grande +Breteche,' 'Louis Lambert,' and 'Les Marana.' After this year there are +fewer short stories. In 1833 we have 'Le Medecin de campagne' (The +Country Doctor), and 'Eugenie Grandet,' with parts of the 'Histoire des +treize' (Story of the Thirteen), and of the 'Contes drolatiques' (Droll +Tales). The next year gives us 'La Recherche de l'absolu' (Search for +the Absolute) and 'Le Pere Goriot' (Old Goriot) and during the next six +there were no less than a dozen masterpieces. Such a decade of +accomplishment is little short of miraculous, and the work was done +under stress of anxieties that would have crushed any normal man. + +But anxieties and labors were lightened by a friendship which was an +inspiration long before it ripened into love, and were rendered bearable +both by Balzac's confidence in himself and by his ever nearer view of +the goal he had set himself. The task before him was as stupendous as +that which Comte had undertaken, and required not merely the planning +and writing of new works but the utilization of all that he had +previously written. Untiring labor had to be devoted to this +manipulation of old material, for practically the great output of the +five years 1829-1834 was to be co-ordinated internally, story being +brought into relation with story and character with character. This +meant the creation and management of an immense number of personages, +the careful investigation of the various localities which served for +environments, and the profound study of complicated social and political +problems. No wonder, then, that the second decade of his maturity shows +a falling off in abundance, though not in intensity of creative power; +and that the gradual breaking down of his health, under the strain of +his ceaseless efforts and of his abnormal habits of life, made itself +more and more felt in the years that followed the great preface which in +1842 set forth the splendid design of the 'Comedie humaine.' + +This preface, one of the most important documents in literary history, +must be carefully studied by all who would comprehend Balzac in his +entirety. It cannot be too often repeated that Balzac's scientific and +historical aspirations are important only in so far as they caused him +to take a great step forward in the development of his art. The nearer +the artist comes to reproducing for us life in its totality, the higher +the rank we assign him among his fellows. Tried by this canon, Balzac is +supreme. His interweaving of characters and events through a series of +volumes gives a verisimilitude to his work unrivaled in prose fiction, +and paralleled only in the work of the world-poets. In other words, his +use of co-ordination upon a vast scale makes up for his lack of delicacy +and sureness of touch, as compared with what Shakespeare and Homer and +Chaucer have taught us to look for. Hence he is with them even if not +of them. + +This great claim can be made for the Balzac of the 'Comedie humaine' +only; it could not be made for the Balzac of any one masterpiece like +'Le Pere Goriot,' or even for the Balzac of all the masterpieces taken +in lump and without co-ordination. Balzac by co-ordination has in spite +of his limitations given us a world, just as Shakespeare and Homer have +done; and so Taine was profoundly right when he put him in the same +category with the greatest of all writers. When, however, he added St. +Simon to Shakespeare, and proclaimed that with them Balzac was the +greatest storehouse of documents that we have on human nature, he was +guilty not merely of confounding _genres_ of art, but also of laying +stress on the philosophic rather than on the artistic side of fiction. +Balzac does make himself a great storehouse of documents on human +nature, but he also does something far more important, he sets before us +a world of living men and women. + +To have brought this world into existence, to have given it order in the +midst of complexity, and that in spite of the fact that death overtook +him before he could complete his work, would have been sufficient to +occupy a decade of any other man's life; but he, though harassed with +illness and with hopes of love and ambition deferred, was strong enough +to do more. The year 1840 saw the appearance of 'Pierrette,' and the +establishment of the ill-fated 'Revue parisienne.' The following year +saw 'Ursule Mirouet,' and until 1848 the stream of great works is +practically unbroken. The 'Splendeurs et miseres' and the 'Parents +pauvres' have been named already, but to these must be added 'Un Menage +de garcon' (A Bachelor's House-keeping), 'Modeste Mignon,' and 'Les +Paysans' (The Peasants). The three following years added nothing to his +work and closed his life, but they brought him his crowning happiness. +On March 14th, 1850, he was married to Mme. Hanska, at Berditchef; on +August 18th, 1850, he died at Paris. + +Madame Evelina de Hanska came into Balzac's life about 1833, just after +he had shaken off the unfortunate influence of the Duchesse de Castries. +The young Polish countess was much impressed, we are told, by reading +the 'Scenes de la vie privee' (Scenes of Private Life), and was somewhat +perplexed and worried by Balzac's apparent change of method in 'La Peau +de chagrin.' She wrote to him over the signature "L'Etrangere" (A +Foreigner), and he answered in a series of letters recently published in +the Revue de Paris. Not long after the opening of this correspondence +the two met, and a firm friendship was cemented between them. The lady +was about thirty, and married to a Russian gentleman of large fortune, +to whom she had given an only daughter. She was in the habit of +traveling about Europe to carry on this daughter's education, and Balzac +made it his pleasure and duty to see her whenever he could, sometimes +journeying as far as Vienna. In the interim he would write her letters +which possess great charm and importance to the student of his life. The +husband made no objection to the intimacy, trusting both to his wife and +to Balzac; but for some time before the death of the aged nobleman, +Balzac seems to have distrusted himself and to have held slightly aloof +from the woman whom he was destined finally to love with all the fervor +of his nature. Madame Hanska became free in the winter of 1842-3, and +the next summer Balzac visited St. Petersburg to see her. His love soon +became an absorbing passion, but consideration for her daughter's future +withheld the lady's consent to a betrothal till 1846. It was a period of +weary waiting, in which our sympathies are all on one side; for if ever +a man deserved to be happy in a woman's love, it was Balzac. His +happiness came, but almost too late to be enjoyed. His last two years, +which he spent in Poland with Madame de Hanska, were oppressed by +illness, and he returned to his beloved Paris only to die. The struggle +of thirty years was over, and although his immense genius was not yet +fully recognized, his greatest contemporary, Victor Hugo, was +magnanimous enough to exclaim on hearing that he was dying, "Europe is +on the point of losing a great mind." Balzac's disciples feel that +Europe really lost its greatest writer since Shakespeare. + +In the definitive edition of Balzac's writings in twenty-four volumes, +seventeen are occupied by the various divisions of the 'Comedie +humaine.' The plays take up one volume; and the correspondence, not +including of course the letters to "L'Etrangere," another; the 'Contes +drolatiques' make still another; and finally we have four volumes filled +with sketches, tales, reviews, and historical and political articles +left uncollected by their author. + +The 'Contes' are thirty in number, divided into "dixains," each with its +appropriate prologue and epilogue. They purport to have been collected +in the abbeys of Touraine, and set forth by the Sieur de Balzac for the +delight of Pantagruelists and none others. Not merely the spirit but the +very language of Rabelais is caught with remarkable verve and fidelity, +so that from the point of view of style Balzac has never done better +work. A book which holds by Rabelais on the one hand and by the Queen of +Navarre on the other is not likely, however, to appeal to that part of +the English and American reading public that expurgates its Chaucer, and +blushes at the mention of Fielding and Smollett. Such readers will do +well to avoid the 'Contes drolatiques;' although, like 'Don Juan,' they +contain a great deal of what was best in their author, of his frank, +ebullient, sensuous nature, lighted up here at least by a genuine if +scarcely delicate humor. Of direct suggestion of vice Balzac was, +naturally, as incapable as he was of smug puritanism; but it must be +confessed that as a _raconteur_ his proper audience, now that the +monastic orders have passed away, would be a group of middle-aged +club-men. + +The 'Comedie humaine' is divided into three main sections: first and +most important, the 'Etudes de moeurs' (Studies of Manners), second the +'Etudes philosophiques' (Philosophic Studies), and finally the 'Etudes +analytiques' (Analytic Studies). These divisions, as M. Barriere points +out in his 'L'Oeuvre de H. de Balzac' (The Work of Balzac), were +intended to bear to one another the relations that moral science, +psychology, and metaphysics do to one another with regard to the life of +man, whether as an individual or as a member of society. No single +division was left complete at the author's death; but enough was +finished and put together to give us the sense of moving in a living, +breathing world, no matter where we make our entry. This, as we have +insisted, is the real secret of his greatness. To think, for example, +that the importance of 'Seraphita' lies in the fact that it gives +Balzac's view of Swedenborgianism, or that the importance of 'Louis +Lambert' lies in its author's queer theories about the human will, is +entirely to misapprehend his true position in the world of literature. +His mysticism, his psychology, his theories of economics, his +reactionary devotion to monarchy, and his idealization of the Church of +Rome, may or may not appeal to us, and have certainly nothing that is +eternal or inevitable about them; but in his knowledge of the human mind +and heart he is as inevitable and eternal as any writer has ever been, +save only Shakespeare and Homer. + +The 'Etudes de moeurs' were systematically divided by their author into +'Scenes of Private Life,' 'Scenes of Provincial Life,' 'Scenes of +Country Life,' 'Scenes of Parisian Life,' 'Scenes of Political Life,' +and 'Scenes of Military Life,'--the last three divisions representing +more or less exceptional phases of existence. The group relating to +Paris is by far the most important and powerful, but the provincial +stories show almost as fine workmanship, and furnish not a few of the +well-known masterpieces. Less interesting, though still important, are +the 'Scenes of Private Life,' which consist of twenty-four novels, +novelettes, and tales, under the following titles: 'Beatrix,' 'Albert +Savarus,' 'La Fausse maitresse' (The False Mistress), 'Le Message' (The +Message), 'La Grande Breteche,' 'Etude de femme' (Study of Woman), +'Autre etude de femme' (Another Story of Woman), 'Madame Firmiani,' +'Modeste Mignon,' 'Un Debut dans la vie' (An Entrance upon Life), +'Pierre Grassou,' 'Memoires de deux jeunes mariees' (Recollections of a +Young Couple), 'La Maison du chat-qui-pelote,' 'Le Bal de Sceaux' (The +Ball of Sceaux), 'Le Contrat de mariage' (The Marriage Contract), 'La +Vendetta,' 'La Paix du menage' (Household Peace), 'Une Double famille' +(A Double Family), 'Une Fille d'Eve' (A Daughter of Eve), 'Honorine,' +'La Femme abandonnee' (The Abandoned Wife), 'La Grenadiere,' 'La Femme +de trente ans' (The Woman of Thirty). + +Of all these stories, hardly one shows genuine greatness except the +powerful tragic tale 'La Grande Breteche,' which was subsequently +incorporated in 'Autre etude de femme,' This story of a jealous +husband's walling up his wife's lover in a closet of her chamber is as +dramatic a piece of writing as Balzac ever did, and is almost if not +quite as perfect a short story as any that has since been written in +France. 'La Maison du chat-qui-pelote' has been mentioned already on +account of its importance in the evolution of Balzac's realism, but +while a delightful novelette, it is hardly great, its charm coming +rather from its descriptions of bourgeois life than from the working out +of its central theme, the infelicity of a young wife married to an +unfaithful artist. 'Modeste Mignon' is interesting, and more romantic +than Balzac's later works were wont to be; but while it may be safely +recommended to the average novel-reader, few admirers of its author +would wish to have it taken as a sample of their master. 'Beatrix' is a +powerful story in its delineation of the weakness of the young Breton +nobleman, Calyste du Guenie. It derives a factitious interest from the +fact that George Sand is depicted in 'Camille Maupin,' the _nom de +plume_ of Mlle. des Touches, and perhaps Balzac himself in Claude +Vignon, the critic. Less factitious is the interest derived from +Balzac's admirable delineation of a doting mother and aunt, and from his +realistic handling of one of the cleverest of his ladies of light +reputation, Madame Schontz; his studies of such characters of the +_demi-monde_--especially of the wonderful Esther of the 'Splendeurs et +miseres'--serving plainly, by the way, as a point of departure for Dumas +_fils_. Yet 'Beatrix' is an able rather than a truly great book, for it +neither elevates nor delights us. In fact, all the stories in this +series are interesting rather than truly great; but all display Balzac's +remarkable analytic powers. Love, false or true, is of course their main +theme; wrought out to a happy issue in 'La Bourse,' a charming tale, or +to a death of despair in 'La Grenadiere' The childless young married +woman is contrasted with her more fortunate friend surrounded by little +ones ('Memoires de deux jeunes mariees'), the heartless coquette flirts +once too often ('Le Bal de Sceaux'), the eligible young man is taken in +by a scheming mother ('Le Contrat du mariage'), the deserted husband +labors to win back his wife ('Honorine'), the tempted wife learns at +last the real nature of her peril ('Une Fille d'Eve'); in short, lovers +and mistresses, husbands and wives, make us participants of all the joys +and sorrows that form a miniature world within the four walls of +every house. + +The 'Scenes of Provincial Life' number only ten stories, but nearly all +of them are masterpieces. They are 'Eugenie Grandet,' 'Le Lys dans la +vallee,' 'Ursule Mirouet,' 'Pierrette,' 'Le Cure de Tours,' 'La +Rabouilleuse,' 'La Vielle fille' (The Old Maid), 'Le Cabinet des +antiques' (The Cabinet of Antiques), 'L'Illustre Gaudissart' (The +Illustrious Gaudissart), and 'La Muse du departement' (The Departmental +Muse). Of these 'Eugenie Grandet' is of course easily first in interest, +pathos, and power. The character of old Grandet, the miserly father, is +presented to us with Shakespearean vividness, although Eugenie herself +has, less than the Shakespearean charm. Any lesser artist would have +made the tyrant himself and his yielding wife and daughters seem +caricatures rather than living people. It is only the Shakespeares and +Balzacs who are able to make their Shylocks and lagos, their Grandets +and Philippe Brideaus, monsters and human beings at one and the same +time. It is only the greater artists, too, who can bring out all the +pathos inherent in the subjection of two gentle women to a tyrant in +their own household. But it is Balzac the inimitable alone who can +portray fully the life of the provinces, its banality, its meanness, its +watchful selfishness, and yet save us through the perfection of his art +from the degradation which results from contact with low and sordid +life. The reader who rises unaffected from a perusal of 'Eugenie +Grandet' would be unmoved by the grief of Priam in the tent of Achilles, +or of Othello in the death-chamber of Desdemona. + +'Le Lys dans la vallee' has been pronounced by an able French critic to +be the worst novel he knows; but as a study of more or less ethereal and +slightly morbid love it is characterized by remarkable power. Its +heroine, Madame Mortsauf, tied to a nearly insane husband and pursued by +a sentimental lover, undergoes tortures of conscience through an +agonizing sense of half-failure in her duty. Balzac himself used to cite +her when he was charged with not being able to draw a pure woman; but he +has created nobler types. The other stories of the group are also +decidedly more interesting. The distress of the abbe Birotteau over his +landlady's treatment, and the intrigues of the abbe Troubert ('Le Cure +de Tours') absorb us as completely as the career of Caesar himself in +Mommsen's famous chapter. The woes of the little orphan subjected to the +tyranny of her selfish aunt and uncle ('Pierrette'), the struggles of +the rapacious heirs for the Mirouet fortune ('Ursule Mirouet,') a story +which gives us one of Balzac's purest women, treats interestingly of +mesmerism (and may be read without fear by the young), the siege of +Mlle. Cormon's mature affections by her two adroit suitors ('Une Vielle +fille'), the intrigues against the peace of the d'Esgrignons and the +sublime devotion to their interests of the notary Chesnel ('Le Cabinet +des antiques'), and finally the ignoble passions that fought themselves +out around the senile Jean Jacques Rouget, under the direction of the +diabolical ex-soldier Philippe Brideau ('La Rabouilleuse,' sometimes +entitled 'Un Menage de Garcon'), form the absorbing central themes of a +group of novels--or rather stories, for few of them attain considerable +length--unrivaled in the annals of realistic fiction. + +The 'Scenes of Country Life,' comprising 'Les Paysans,' 'Le Medecin de +campagne,' and 'Le Cure de village' (The Village Priest), take high rank +among their author's works. Where Balzac might have been crudely +naturalistic, he has preferred to be either realistic as in the first +named admirable novel, or idealistic as in the two latter. Hence he has +created characters like the country physician, Doctor Benassis, almost +as great a boon to the world of readers as that philanthropist himself +was to the little village of his adoption. If Madame Graslin of 'Le +Cure de village' fails to reach the height of Benassis, her career has +at least a sensational interest which his lacked; and the country +curate, the good abbe Bonnet, surely makes up for her lack on the ideal +side. This story, by the way, is important for the light it throws on +the workings of the Roman Church among the common people; and the +description of Madame Graslin's death is one of Balzac's most effective +pieces of writing. + +We are now brought to the 'Parisian Scenes,' and with the exception of +'Eugenie Grandet,' to the best-known masterpieces. There are twenty +titles; but as two of these are collective in character, the number of +novels and stories amounts to twenty-four, as follows:--'Le Pere +Goriot,' 'Illusions perdues,' 'Splendeurs et miseres des courtisanes,' +'Les Secrets de la princesse de Cadignan' (The Secrets of the Princess +of Cadignan), 'Histoire des treize' [containing 'Ferragus,' 'La Duchesse +de Langeais,' and 'La Fille aux yeux d'or' (The Girl with the Golden +Eyes)], 'Sarrasine,' 'Le Colonel Chabert,' 'L'lnterdiction' (The +Interdiction), 'Les Parents pauvres' (Poor Relations, including 'La +Cousine Bette' and 'Le Cousin Pons'), 'La Messe de l'athee' (The +Atheist's Mass), 'Facino Cane,' 'Gobseck,' 'La Maison Nucingen,' 'Un +Prince de la Boheme' (A Prince of Bohemia), 'Esquisse d'homme +d'affaires' (Sketch of a Business man), 'Gaudissart II.' 'Les Comediens +sans le savoir' (The Unconscious Humorists), 'Les Employes' (The +Employees), 'Histoire de Cesar Birotteau,' and 'Les Petits bourgeois' +(Little Bourgeois). Of these twenty-four titles six belong to novels, +five of which are of great power, nine to novelettes and short stories +too admirable to be passed over without notice, eight to novelettes and +stories of interest and value which need not, however, detain us, and +one, 'Les Petits bourgeois', to a novel of much promise unfortunately +left incomplete. 'Les Secrets de la princesse de Cadignan' is remarkable +chiefly as a study of the blind passion that often overtakes a man of +letters. Daniel d'Arthez, the author, a fine character and a favorite +with Balzac, succumbs to the wiles of the Princess of Cadignan (formerly +the dashing and fascinating Duchesse de Maufrigneuse) and is happy in +his subjection. The 'Histoire des treize' contains three novelettes, +linked together through the fact that in each a band of thirteen young +men, sworn to assist one another in conquering society, play an +important part. This volume is the most frankly sensational of Balzac's +works. 'La Duchesse de Langeais' however, is more than sensational: it +gives perhaps Balzac's best description of the Faubourg St. Germain and +one of his ablest analyses of feminine character, while in the +description of General Montriveau's recognition of the Duchess in the +Spanish convent the novelist's dramatic power is seen at its highest. +'La Fille aux yeux d'or,' which concludes the volume devoted to the +mysterious brotherhood, may be considered, with 'Sarrasine,' one of the +dark closets of the great building known as the 'Comedie humaine.' Both +stories deal with unnatural passions, and the first is one of Balzac's +most effective compositions. For sheer voluptuousness of style there is +little in literature to parallel the description of the boudoir of the +uncanny heroine. Very different from these stories is 'Le Colonel +Chabert,' the record of the misfortunes of one of Napoleon's heroic +soldiers, who after untold hardships returns to France to find his wife +married a second time and determined to deny his existence. The law is +invoked, but the treachery of the wife induces the noble old man to put +an end to the proceedings, after which he sinks into an indigent and +pathetic senility. Balzac has never drawn a more heart-moving figure, +nor has he ever sounded more thoroughly the depths of human selfishness. +But the description of the battle of Eylau and of Chabert's sufferings +in retreat would alone suffice to make the story memorable. +'L'Interdiction' is the proper pendant to the history of this +unfortunate soldier. In it another husband, the Marquis d'Espard, +suffers from the selfishness of his wife, one of the worst characters in +the range of Balzac's fiction. That she may keep him from alienating his +property to discharge a moral obligation she endeavors to prove him +insane. The legal complications which ensue bring forward one of +Balzac's great figures, the judge of instruction, Popinot; but to +appreciate him the reader must go to the marvelous book itself. +'Gobseck' is a study of a Parisian usurer, almost worthy of a place +beside the description of old Grandet; while 'Les Employes' is a +realistic study of bureaucratic life, which, besides showing a wonderful +familiarity with the details of a world of which Balzac had little +personal experience, contains several admirably drawn characters and a +sufficient amount of incident. But it is time to leave these sketches +and novels in miniature, and to pass by the less important 'Scenes' of +this fascinating Parisian life, in order to consider in some detail the +five novels of consummate power. + +First of these in date of composition, and in popular estimation at +least among English readers, comes, 'Le Pere Goriot.' It is certainly +trite to call the book a French "Lear," but the expression emphasizes +the supreme artistic power that could treat the _motif_ of one of +Shakespeare's plays in a manner that never forces a disadvantageous +comparison with the great tragedy. The retired vermicelli-maker is not +as grand a figure as the doting King of Britain, but he is as real. The +French daughters, Anastasie, Countess de Restaud, and Delphine, Baroness +de Nucingen, are not such types of savage wickedness as Regan and +Goneril, but they fit the nineteenth century as well as the British +princesses did their more barbarous day. Yet there is no Cordelia in +'Le Pere Goriot,' for the pale Victorine Taillefer cannot fill the place +of that noblest of daughters. This is but to say that Balzac's bourgeois +tragedy lacks that element of the noble that every great poetic tragedy +must have. The self-immolation of old Goriot to the cold-hearted +ambitions of his daughters is not noble, but his parental passion +touches the infinite, and so proves the essential kinship of his creator +with the creator of Lear. This touch of the infinite, as in 'Eugenie +Grandet,' lifts the book up from the level of a merely masterly study of +characters or a merely powerful novel to that of the supreme +masterpieces of human genius. The marvelously lifelike description of +the vulgar Parisian boarding-house, the fascinating delineation of the +character of that king of convicts, Vautrin, and the fine analysis of +the ambitions of Rastignac (who comes nearer perhaps to being _the_ hero +of the 'Comedie humaine' than any other of its characters, and is here +presented to us at the threshold of his successful career) remain in the +memory of every reader, but would never alone have sufficed to make +Balzac's name worthy of immortality. The infinite quality of Goriot's +passion would, however, have conferred this honor on his creator had he +never written another book. + +'Illusions perdues' and 'Splendeurs et miseres des courtisanes' might +almost be regarded as one novel in seven parts. More than any other of +his works they show the sun of Balzac's genius at its meridian. Nowhere +else does he give us plots so absorbing, nowhere else does he bring us +so completely in contact with the world his imagination has peopled. The +first novel devotes two of its parts to the provinces and one to Paris. +The provincial stories centre around two brothers-in-law, David Sechard +and Lucien de Rubempre, types of the practical and the artistic +intellect respectively. David, after struggling for fame and fortune, +succumbs and finds his recompense in the love of his wife Eve, Lucien's +sister, one of Balzac's noble women. Lucien, on the other hand, after +some provincial successes as a poet, tries the great world of Paris, +yields to its temptations, fails ignominiously, and attempts suicide, +but is rescued by the great Vautrin, who has escaped from prison and is +about to renew his war on society disguised as a Spanish priest. Vautrin +has conceived the idea that as he can take no part in society, he will +have a representative in it and taste its pleasures through him. Lucien +accepts this disgraceful position and plunges once more into the vortex, +supported by the strong arm of the king of the convicts. His career and +that of his patron form the subject of the four parts of the 'Splendeurs +et miseres' and are too complicated to be described here. Suffice it to +say that probably nowhere else in fiction are the novel of character and +the novel of incident so splendidly combined; and certainly nowhere +else in the range of his work does Balzac so fully display all his +master qualities. That the story is sensational cannot be denied, but it +is at least worthy of being called the Iliad of Crime. Nemesis waits +upon both Lucien and Vautrin, and upon the poor courtesan Esther whom +they entrap in their toils, and when the two former are at last in +custody, Lucien commits suicide. Vautrin baffles his acute judge in a +wonderful interview; but with his cherished hope cut short by Lucien's +death, finally gives up the struggle. Here the novel might have ended; +yet Balzac adds a fourth part, in order to complete the career of +Vautrin. The famous convict is transformed into a government spy, and +engages to use his immense power against his former comrades and in +defense of the society he has hitherto warred upon. The artistic +propriety of this transformation may be questioned, but not the power +and interest of the novel of which it is the finishing touch. + +Many readers would put the companion novels 'La Cousine Bette' and 'Le +Cousin Pons' at the head of Balzac's works. They have not the infinite +pathos of 'Le Pere Goriot,' or the superb construction of the first +three parts of the 'Splendeurs et miseres,' but for sheer strength the +former at least is unsurpassed in fiction. Never before or since have +the effects of vice in dragging down a man below the level of the lowest +brute been so portrayed as in Baron Hulot; never before or since has +female depravity been so illustrated as in the diabolical career of +Valerie Marneffe, probably the worst woman in fiction. As for Cousine +Bette herself, and her power to breed mischief and crime, it suffices to +say that she is worthy of a place beside the two chief characters. + +'Le Cousin Pons' is a very different book; one which, though pathetic in +the extreme, may be safely recommended to the youngest reader. The hero +who gives his name to the story is an old musician who has worn out his +welcome among his relations, but who becomes an object of interest to +them when they learn that his collection of bric-a-brac is valuable and +that he is about to die. The intrigues that circulate around this +collection and the childlike German, Schmucke, to whom Pons has +bequeathed it, are described as only the author of 'Le Cure de Tours' +could have succeeded in doing; but the book contains also an almost +perfect description of the ideal friendship existing between Pons and +Schmucke. One remembers them longer than one does Frazier, the +scoundrelly advocate who cheats poor Schmucke; a fact which should be +cited against those who urge that Balzac is at home with his vicious +characters only. + +The last novel of this group, 'Cesar Birotteau,' is the least powerful, +though not perhaps the least popular. It is an excellent study of +bourgeois life, and therefore fills an important place in the scheme of +the 'Comedy,' describing as it does the spreading ambitions of a rich +but stupid perfumer, and containing an admirable study of bankruptcy. It +may be dismissed with the remark that around the innocent Caesar surge +most of the scoundrels that figure in the 'Comedie humaine,' and with +the regret that it should have been completed while the far more +powerful 'Les Petits bourgeois' was left unfinished. + +We now come to the concluding parts of the 'Etudes de moeurs.' the +'Scenes' describing Political and Military Life. In the first group are +five novels and stories: 'L'Envers de l'histoire contemporaine' (The +Under Side of Contemporary History, a fine story, but rather social than +political), 'Une Tenebreuse affaire' (A Shady Affair), 'Un Episode sous +la Terreur,' 'Z. Marcas,' and 'Le Depute d'Arcis' (The Deputy of Arcis). +Of these the 'Episode' is probably the most admirable, although 'Z. +Marcas' has not a little strength. The 'Depute,' like 'Les Petits +bourgeois,' was continued by M. Charles Rabou and a considerable part of +it is not Balzac's; a fact which is to be regretted, since practically +it is the only one of these stories that touches actual politics as the +term is usually understood. The military scenes are only two in number, +'Les Chouans' and 'Une Passion dans le desert.' The former of these has +been sufficiently described already; the latter is one of the best known +of the short stories, but rather deserves a place beside 'La Fille aux +yeux d'or.' Indeed, for Balzac's best military scenes we must go to 'Le +Colonel Chabert' or to 'Adieu.' + +We now pass to those subterranean chambers of the great structure we are +exploring, the 'Etudes philosophiques.' They are twenty in number, four +being novels, one a composite volume of tales, and the rest stories. The +titles run as follows:--'La Peau de chagrin,' 'L'Elixir de longue vie' +(The Elixir of Life), 'Melmoth reconcilie,' 'Le Chef-d'oeuvre inconnu' +(The Anonymous Masterpiece), 'Gambara,' 'Massimila Doni,' 'Le +Requisitionnaire,' 'Adieu,' 'El Verdugo,' 'Les Marana,' 'L'Auberge +rouge' (The Red Inn), 'Un Drame au bord de la mer' (A Seaside Drama), +'L'Enfant maudit' (A Child Accursed) 'Maitre Cornelius' (Master +Cornelius), 'Sur Catherine de Medicis,' 'La Recherche de l'absolu,' +'Louis Lambert,' 'Seraphita,' 'Les Proscrits,' and 'Jesus-Christ +en Flandre.' + +Of the novels, 'La Peau de chagrin' is easily first. Its central theme +is the world-old conflict between the infinite desires and the finite +powers of man. The hero, Raphael, is hardly, as M. Barriere asserts, on +a level with Hamlet, Faust, and Manfred, but the struggle of his +infinite and his finite natures is almost as intensely interesting as +the similar struggles in them. The introduction of the talisman, the +wild ass's skin that accomplishes all the wishes of its owner, but on +condition that it is to shrink away in proportion to the intensity of +those wishes, and that when it disappears the owner's life is to end, +gave to the story a weird interest not altogether, perhaps, in keeping +with its realistic setting, and certainly forcing a disastrous +comparison with the three great poems named. But when all allowances are +made, one is forced to conclude that 'La Peau de chagrin' is a novel of +extraordinary power and absorbing interest; and that its description of +its hero's dissipations in the libertine circles of Paris, and its +portrayal of the sublime devotion of the heroine Pauline for her slowly +perishing lover, are scarcely to be paralleled in literature. Far less +powerful are the short stories on similar themes, entitled 'L'Elixir de +longue vie,' and 'Melmoth reconcilie' (Melmoth Reconciled), which give +us Balzac's rehandling of the Don Juan of Moliere and Byron, and the +Melmoth of Maturin. + +Below the 'Peau de chagrin,' but still among its author's best novels, +should be placed 'La Recherche de l'absolu,' which, as its title +implies, describes the efforts of a chemist to "prove by chemical +analysis the unity of composition of matter." In the pursuit of his +philosophic will-o'-the-wisp, Balthazar Claes loses his fortune and +sacrifices his noble wife and children. His madness serves, however, to +bring into relief the splendid qualities of these latter; and it is just +here, in its human rather than in its philosophic bearings, that the +story rises to real greatness. Marguerite Claes, the daughter, is a +noble heroine; and if one wishes to see how Balzac's characters and +ideas suffer when treated by another though an able hand, one has but to +read in conjunction with this novel the 'Maitre Guerin' of the +distinguished dramatist Emile Augier. A proper pendant to this history +of a noble genius perverted is 'La Confidence des Ruggieri,' the second +part of that remarkable composite 'Sur Catherine de Medicis,' a book +which in spite of its mixture of history, fiction, and speculative +politics is one of the most suggestive of Balzac's minor productions. + +Concerning 'Seraphita' and 'Louis Lambert,' the remaining novels of this +series, certain noted mystics assert that they contain the essence of +Balzac's genius, and at least suggest the secret of the universe. +Perhaps an ordinary critic may content himself with saying that both +books are remarkable proofs of their author's power, and that the former +is notable for its marvelous descriptions of Norwegian scenery. + +Of the lesser members of the philosophic group, nearly all are admirable +in their kind and degree. 'Le Chef-d'oeuvre inconnu' and 'Gambara' treat +of the pains of the artistic life and temperament. 'Massimila Doni,' +like 'Gambara,' treats of music, but also gives a brilliant picture of +Venetian life. 'Le requisitionnaire,' perhaps the best of Balzac's +short stories, deals with the phenomenon of second sight, as 'Adieu' +does with that of mental alienation caused by a sudden shock. 'Les +Marana' is an absorbing study of the effects of heredity; 'L'Auberge +rouge' is an analysis of remorse, as is also 'Un Drame au bord de la +mer'; while 'L'Enfant maudit' is an analysis of the effects of extreme +sensibility, especially as manifested in the passion of poetic love. +Finally, 'Maitre Cornelius' is a study of avarice, in which is set a +remarkable portrait of Louis XI.; 'Les Proscrits' is a masterly sketch +of the exile of Dante at Paris; and 'Jesus-Christ en Flandre' is an +exquisite allegory, the most delicate flower, perhaps, of +Balzac's genius. + +It remains only to say a few words about the third division of the +'Comedie humaine,' viz., the 'Etudes analytiques.' Only two members of +the series, the 'Physiologie du mariage' and the 'Petites miseres de la +vie conjugale,' were ever completed, and they are not great enough to +make us regret the loss of the 'Pathology of Social Life' and the other +unwritten volumes. For the two books we have are neither novels nor +profound studies, neither great fiction nor great psychology. That they +are worth reading for their suggestiveness with regard to such important +subjects as marriage and conjugal life goes without saying, since they +are Balzac's; but that they add greatly to his reputation, not even his +most ardent admirer would be hardy enough to affirm. + +And now in conclusion, what can one say about this great writer that +will not fall far short of his deserts? Plainly, nothing, yet a few +points may be accentuated with profit. We should notice in the first +place that Balzac has consciously tried almost every form of prose +fiction, and has been nearly always splendidly successful. In analytic +studies of high, middle, and low life he has not his superior. In the +novel of intrigue and sensation he is easily a master, while he succeeds +at least fairly in a form of fiction at just the opposite pole from +this, to wit, the idyl ('Le Lys dans la vallee'). In character sketches +of extreme types, like 'Gobseck,' his supremacy has long been +recognized, and he is almost as powerful when he enters the world of +mysticism, whither so few of us can follow him. As a writer of +novelettes he is unrivaled and some of his short stories are worthy to +rank with the best that his followers have produced. In the extensive +use of dialect he was a pioneer; in romance he has 'La Peau de chagrin' +and 'La Recherche de l'absolu' to his credit; while some of the work in +the tales connected with the name of Catherine de Medici shows what he +could have done in historical fiction had he continued to follow Scott. +And what is true of the form of his fiction is true of its elements. +Tragedy, comedy, melodrama are all within his reach; he can call up +tears and shudders, laughter and smiles at will. He knows the whole +range of human emotions, and he dares to penetrate into the arcana of +passions almost too terrible or loathsome for literature to touch. + +In style, in the larger sense of the word, he is almost equally supreme. +He is the father of modern realism and remains its greatest exponent. He +retains always some of the good elements of romance,--that is to say, he +sees the thing as it ought to be,--and he avoids the pitfalls of +naturalism, being a painter and not a photographer. In other words, like +all truly great writers he never forgets his ideals; but he is too +impartial to his characters and has too fast a grip on life to fall into +the unrealities of sentimentalism. It is true that he lacked the +spontaneity that characterized his great forerunner, Shakespeare, and +his great contemporary, George Sand; but this loss was made up by the +inevitable and impersonal character of his work when once his genius was +thoroughly aroused to action. His laborious method of describing by an +accumulation of details postponed the play of his powers, which are at +their height in the action of his characters; yet sooner or later the +inert masses of his composition were fused into a burning whole. But if +Balzac is primarily a dramatist in the creation and manipulation of his +characters, he is also a supreme painter in his presentation of scenes. +And what characters and what scenes has he not set before us! Over two +thousand personages move through the 'Comedie humaine,' whose +biographies MM. Cerfberr and Christophe have collected for us in their +admirable 'Repertoire de la comedie humaine,' and whose chief types M. +Paul Flat has described in the first series of his 'Essais sur Balzac.' +Some of these personages are of course shadowy; but an amazingly large +number live for us as truly as Shakespeare's heroes and heroines do. Nor +will any one who has trod the streets of Balzac's Paris, or spent the +summer with him at the chateau des Aigues ('Les Paysans'), or in the +beautiful valleys of Touraine, ever forget the master's pictures. + +Yet the Balzac who with intangible materials created living and +breathing men and women and unfading scenes, has been accused of +vitiating the French language and has been denied the possession of +verbal style. On this point French critics must give the final verdict; +but a foreigner may cite Taine's defense of that style, and maintain +that most of the liberties taken by Balzac with his native language were +forced on him by the novel and far-reaching character of his work. Nor +should it be forgotten that he was capable at times of almost perfect +passages of description, and that he rarely confounded, as novelists are +too apt to do, the provinces of poetry and prose. + +But one might write a hundred essays on Balzac and not exhaust him. One +might write a volume on his women, a volume to refute the charge that +his bad men are better drawn than his good, a volume to discuss Mr. +Henry James's epigrammatic declaration that a five-franc piece may be +fairly called the protagonist of the 'Comedie humaine.' In short one +might go on defending and praising and even criticizing Balzac for a +lifetime, and be little further advanced than when one began; for to +criticize Balzac, is it not to criticize life itself? + +[Illustration: Signature W.P. Trent] + + +THE MEETING IN THE CONVENT + +From 'The Duchess of Langeais' + + + I + +In a Spanish town on an island of the Mediterranean there is a convent +of the Barefooted Carmelites, where the rule of the Order instituted by +Saint Theresa is still kept with the primitive rigor of the reformation +brought about by that illustrious woman. Extraordinary as this fact may +seem, it is true. Though the monasteries of the Peninsula and those of +the Continent were nearly all destroyed or broken up by the outburst of +the French Revolution and the turmoil of the Napoleonic wars, yet on +this island, protected by the British fleets, the wealthy convent and +its peaceful inmates were sheltered from the dangers of change and +general spoliation. The storms from all quarters which shook the first +fifteen years of the nineteenth century subsided ere they reached this +lonely rock near the coast of Andalusia. If the name of the great +Emperor echoed fitfully upon its shores, it may be doubted whether the +fantastic march of his glory or the flaming majesty of his meteoric life +ever reached the comprehension of those saintly women kneeling in their +distant cloister. + +A conventual rigor, which was never relaxed, gave to this haven a +special place in the thoughts and history of the Catholic world. The +purity of its rule drew to its shelter from different parts of Europe +sad women, whose souls, deprived of human ties, longed for the death in +life which they found here in the bosom of God. No other convent was so +fitted to wean the heart and teach it that aloofness from the things of +this world which the religious life imperatively demands. On the +Continent may be found a number of such Houses, nobly planned to meet +the wants of their sacred purpose. Some are buried in the depths of +solitary valleys; others hang, as it were, in mid-air above the hills, +clinging to the mountain slopes or projecting from the verge of +precipices. On all sides man has sought out the poesy of the infinite, +the solemnity of silence: he has sought God; and on the mountain-tops, +in the abysmal depths, among the caverned cliffs he has found Him. Yet +nowhere as on this European islet, half African though it be, can he +find such differing harmonies all blending to lift the soul and quell +its springs of anguish; to cool its fevers, and give to the sorrows of +life a bed of rest. + +The monastery is built at the extremity of the island at its highest +part, where the rock by some convulsion of Nature has been rent sharply +down to the sea, and presents at all points keen angles and edges, +slightly eaten away at the water-line by the action of the waves, but +insurmountable to all approach. The rock is also protected from assault +by dangerous reefs running far out from its base, over which frolic the +blue waters of the Mediterranean. It is only from the sea that the +visitor can perceive the four principal parts of the square structure, +which adheres minutely as to shape, height, and the piercing of its +windows to the prescribed laws of monastic architecture. On the side +towards the town the church hides the massive lines of the cloister, +whose roof is covered with large tiles to protect it from winds and +storms, and also from the fierce heat of the sun. The church, the gift +of a Spanish family, looks down upon the town and crowns it. Its bold +yet elegant facade gives a noble aspect to the little maritime city. Is +it not a picture of terrestrial sublimity? See the tiny town with +clustering roofs, rising like an amphitheatre from the picturesque port +upward to the noble Gothic frontal of the church, from which spring the +slender shafts of the bell-towers with their pointed finials: religion +dominating life: offering to man the end and the way of living,--image +of a thought altogether Spanish. Place this scene upon the bosom of the +Mediterranean beneath an ardent sky; plant it with palms whose waving +fronds mingle their green life with the sculptured leafage of the +immutable architecture; look at the white fringes of the sea as it runs +up the reef and they sparkle upon the sapphire of its wave; see the +galleries and the terraces built upon the roofs of houses, where the +inhabitants come at eve to breathe the flower-scented air as it rises +through the tree-tops from their little gardens. Below, in the harbor, +are the white sails. The serenity of night is coming on; listen to the +notes of the organ, the chant of evening orisons, the echoing bells of +the ships at sea: on all sides sound and peace,--oftenest peace. + +Within the church are three naves, dark and mysterious. The fury of the +winds evidently forbade the architect to build out lateral buttresses, +such as adorn all other cathedrals, and between which little chapels are +usually constructed. Thus the strong walls which flank the lesser naves +shed no light into the building. Outside, their gray masses are shored +up from point to point by enormous beams. The great nave and its two +small lateral galleries are lighted solely by the rose-window of stained +glass, which pierces with miraculous art the wall above the great +portal, whose fortunate exposure permits a wealth of tracery and +dentellated stone-work belonging to that order of architecture +miscalled Gothic. + +The greater part of the three naves is given up to the inhabitants of +the town who come to hear Mass and the Offices of the Church. In front +of the choir is a latticed screen, within which brown curtains hang in +ample folds, slightly parted in the middle to give a limited view of the +altar and the officiating priest. The screen is divided at intervals by +pillars that hold up a gallery within the choir which contains the +organ. This construction, in harmony with the rest of the building, +continues, in sculptured wood, the little columns of the lateral +galleries which are supported by the pillars of the great nave. Thus it +is impossible for the boldest curiosity, if any such should dare to +mount the narrow balustrade of these galleries, to see farther into the +choir than the octagonal stained windows which pierce the apse behind +the high altar. + +At the time of the French expedition into Spain for the purpose of +re-establishing the authority of Ferdinand VII., and after the fall of +Cadiz, a French general who was sent to the island to obtain its +recognition of the royal government prolonged his stay upon it that he +might reconnoitre the convent and gain, if possible, admittance there. +The enterprise was a delicate one. But a man of passion,--a man whose +life had been, so to speak, a series of poems in action, who had lived +romances instead of writing them; above all a man of deeds,--might well +be tempted by a project apparently so impossible. To open for himself +legally the gates of a convent of women! The Pope and the Metropolitan +Archbishop would scarcely sanction it. Should he use force or artifice? +In case of failure was he not certain to lose his station and his +military future, besides missing his aim? The Duc d'Angouleme was still +in Spain; and of all the indiscretions which an officer in favor with +the commander-in-chief could commit, this alone would be punished +without pity. The general had solicited his present mission for the +purpose of following up a secret hope, albeit no hope was ever so +despairing. This last effort, however, was a matter of conscience. The +house of these Barefooted Carmelites was the only Spanish convent which +had escaped his search. While crossing from the mainland, a voyage which +took less than an hour, a strong presentiment of success had seized his +heart. Since then, although he had seen nothing of the convent but its +walls, nothing of the nuns, not so much as their brown habit; though he +had heard only the echoes of their chanted liturgies,--he had gathered +from those walls and from these chants faint indications that seemed to +justify his fragile hope. Slight as the auguries thus capriciously +awakened might be, no human passion was ever more violently roused than +the curiosity of this French general. To the heart there are no +insignificant events; it magnifies all things; it puts in the same +balance the fall of an empire and the fall of a woman's glove,--and +oftentimes the glove outweighs the empire. But let us give the facts in +their actual simplicity: after the facts will come the feelings. + +An hour after the expedition had landed on the island the royal +authority was re-established. A few Spaniards who had taken refuge there +after the fall of Cadiz embarked on a vessel which the general allowed +them to charter for their voyage to London. There was thus neither +resistance nor reaction. This little insular restoration could not, +however, be accomplished without a Mass, at which both companies of the +troops were ordered to be present. Not knowing the rigor of the +Carmelite rule, the general hoped to gain in the church some information +about the nuns who were immured in the convent, one of whom might be a +being dearer to him than life, more precious even than honor. His hopes +were at first cruelly disappointed. Mass was celebrated with the utmost +pomp. In honor of this solemn occasion the curtains which habitually +hid the choir were drawn aside, and gave to view the rich ornaments, the +priceless pictures, and the shrines incrusted with jewels whose +brilliancy surpassed that of the votive offerings fastened by the +mariners of the port to the pillars of the great nave. The nuns, +however, had retired to the seclusion of the organ gallery. + +Yet in spite of this check, and while the Mass of thanksgiving was being +sung, suddenly and secretly the drama widened into an interest as +profound as any that ever moved the heart of man. The Sister who played +the organ roused an enthusiasm so vivid that not one soldier present +regretted the order which had brought him to the church. The men +listened to the music with pleasure; the officers were carried away by +it. As for the general, he remained to all appearance calm and cold: the +feelings with which he heard the notes given forth by the nun are among +the small number of earthly things whose expression is withheld from +impotent human speech, but which--like death, like God, like +eternity--can be perceived only at their slender point of contact with +the heart of man. By a strange chance the music of the organ seemed to +be that of Rossini,--a composer who more than any other has carried +human passion into the art of music, and whose works by their number and +extent will some day inspire an Homeric respect. From among the scores +of this fine genius the nun seemed to have chiefly studied that of Moses +in Egypt; doubtless because the feelings of sacred music are there +carried to the highest pitch. Perhaps these two souls--one so gloriously +European, the other unknown--had met together in some intuitive +perception of the same poetic thought. This idea occurred to two +officers now present, true _dilettanti_, who no doubt keenly regretted +the Theatre Favart in their Spanish exile. At last, at the Te Deum, it +was impossible not to recognize a French soul in the character which the +music suddenly took on. The triumph of his Most Christian Majesty +evidently roused to joy the heart of that cloistered nun. Surely she was +a Frenchwoman. Presently the patriotic spirit burst forth, sparkling +like a jet of light through the antiphonals of the organ, as the Sister +recalled melodies breathing the delicacy of Parisian taste, and blended +them with vague memories of our national anthems. Spanish hands could +not have put into this graceful homage paid to victorious arms the fire +that thus betrayed the origin of the musician. + +"France is everywhere!" said a soldier. + +The general left the church during the Te Deum; it was impossible for +him to listen to it. The notes of the musician revealed to him a woman +loved to madness; who had buried herself so deeply in the heart of +religion, hid herself so carefully away from the sight of the world, +that up to this time she had escaped the keen search of men armed not +only with immense power, but with great sagacity and intelligence. The +hopes which had wakened in the general's heart seemed justified as he +listened to the vague echo of a tender and melancholy air, 'La Fleuve du +Tage,'--a ballad whose prelude he had often heard in Paris in the +boudoir of the woman he loved, and which this nun now used to express, +amid the joys of the conquerors, the suffering of an exiled heart. +Terrible moment! to long for the resurrection of a lost love; to find +that love--still lost; to meet it mysteriously after five years in which +passion, exasperated by the void, had been intensified by the useless +efforts made to satisfy it. + +Who is there that has not, once at least in his life, upturned +everything about him, his papers and his receptacles, taxing his memory +impatiently as he seeks some precious lost object; and then felt the +ineffable pleasure of finding it after days consumed in the search, +after hoping and despairing of its recovery,--spending upon some trifle +an excitement of mind almost amounting to a passion? Well, stretch this +fury of search through five long years; put a woman, a heart, a love in +the place of the insignificant trifle; lift the passion into the highest +realms of feeling; and then picture to yourself an ardent man, a man +with the heart of lion and the front of Jove, one of those men who +command, and communicate to those about them, respectful terror,--you +will then understand the abrupt departure of the general during the Te +Deum, at the moment when the prelude of an air, once heard in Paris with +delight under gilded ceilings, vibrated through the dark naves of the +church by the sea. + +He went down the hilly street which led up to the convent, without +pausing until the sonorous echoes of the organ could no longer reach his +ear. Unable to think of anything but of the love that like a volcanic +eruption rent his heart, the French general only perceived that the Te +Deum was ended when the Spanish contingent poured from the church. He +felt that his conduct and appearance were open to ridicule, and he +hastily resumed his place at the head of the cavalcade, explaining to +the alcalde and to the governor of the town that a sudden indisposition +had obliged him to come out into the air. Then it suddenly occurred to +him to use the pretext thus hastily given, as a means of prolonging his +stay on the island. Excusing himself on the score of increased illness, +he declined to preside at the banquet given by the authorities of the +island to the French officers, and took to his bed, after writing to the +major-general that a passing illness compelled him to turn over his +command to the colonel. This commonplace artifice, natural as it was, +left him free from all duties and able to seek the fulfilment of his +hopes. Like a man essentially Catholic and monarchical, he inquired the +hours of the various services, and showed the utmost interest in the +duties of religion,--a piety which in Spain excited no surprise. + + + II + +The following day, while the soldiers were embarking, the general went +up to the convent to be present at vespers. He found the church deserted +by the townspeople, who in spite of their natural devotion were +attracted to the port by the embarkation of the troops. The Frenchman, +glad to find himself alone in the church, took pains to make the clink +of his spurs resound through the vaulted roof; he walked noisily, and +coughed, and spoke aloud to himself, hoping to inform the nuns, but +especially the Sister at the organ, that if the French soldiers were +departing, one at least remained behind. Was this singular method of +communication heard and understood? The general believed it was. In the +Magnificat the organ seemed to give an answer which came to him in the +vibrations of the air. The soul of the nun floated towards him on the +wings of the notes she touched, quivering with the movements of the +sound. The music burst forth with power; it glorified the church. This +hymn of joy, consecrated by the sublime liturgy of Roman Christianity to +the uplifting of the soul in presence of the splendors of the +ever-living God, became the utterance of a heart terrified at its own +happiness in presence of the splendors of a perishable love, which still +lived, and came to move it once more beyond the tomb where this woman +had buried herself, to rise again the bride of Christ. + +The organ is beyond all question the finest, the most daring, the most +magnificent of the instruments created by human genius. It is an +orchestra in itself, from which a practiced hand may demand all things; +for it expresses all things. Is it not, as it were, a coign of vantage, +where the soul may poise itself ere it springs into space, bearing, as +it flies, the listening mind through a thousand scenes of life towards +the infinite which parts earth from heaven? The longer a poet listens to +its gigantic harmonies, the more fully will he comprehend that between +kneeling humanity and the God hidden by the dazzling rays of the Holy of +Holies, the hundred voices of terrestrial choirs can alone bridge the +vast distance and interpret to Heaven the prayers of men in all the +omnipotence of their desires, in the diversities of their woe, with the +tints of their meditations and their ecstasies, with the impetuous +spring of their repentance, and the thousand imaginations of their +manifold beliefs. Yes! beneath these soaring vaults the harmonies born +of the genius of sacred things find a yet unheard-of grandeur, which +adorns and strengthens them. Here the dim light, the deep silence, the +voices alternating with the solemn tones of the organ, seem like a veil +through which the luminous attributes of God himself pierce and radiate. +Yet all these sacred riches now seem flung like a grain of incense on +the frail altar of an earthly love, in presence of the eternal throne of +a jealous and avenging Deity. The joy of the nun had not the gravity +which properly belongs to the solemnity of the Magnificat. She gave to +the music rich and graceful modulations, whose rhythms breathed of human +gayety; her measures ran into the brilliant cadences of a great singer +striving to express her love, and the notes rose buoyantly like the +carol of a bird by the side of its mate. At moments she darted back into +the past, as if to sport there or to weep there for an instant. Her +changing moods had something discomposed about them, like the agitations +of a happy woman rejoicing at the return of her lover. Then, as these +supple strains of passionate emotion ceased, the soul that spoke +returned upon itself; the musician passed from the major to the minor +key, and told her hearer the story of her present. She revealed to him +her long melancholy, the slow malady of her moral being,--every day a +feeling crushed, every night a thought subdued, hour by hour a heart +burning down to ashes. After soft modulations the music took on slowly, +tint by tint, the hue of deepest sadness. Soon it poured forth in +echoing torrents the well-springs of grief, till suddenly the higher +notes struck clear like the voice of angels, as if to tell to her lost +love--lost, but not forgotten--that the reunion of their souls must be +in heaven, and only there: hope most precious! Then came the Amen. In +that no joy, no tears, nor sadness, nor regrets, but a return to God. +The last chord that sounded was grave, solemn, terrible. The musician +revealed the nun in the garb of her vocation; and as the thunder of the +basses rolled away, causing the hearer to shudder through his whole +being, she seemed to sink into the tomb from which for a brief moment +she had risen. As the echoes slowly ceased to vibrate along the vaulted +roofs, the church, made luminous by the music, fell suddenly into +profound obscurity. + +The general, carried away by the course of this powerful genius, had +followed her, step by step, along her way. He comprehended in their full +meaning the pictures that gleamed through that burning symphony; for him +those chords told all. For him, as for the Sister, this poem of sound +was the future, the past, the present. Music, even the music of an +opera, is it not to tender and poetic souls, to wounded and suffering +hearts, a text which they interpret as their memories need? If the heart +of a poet must be given to a musician, must not poetry and love be +listeners ere the great musical works of art are understood? Religion, +love, and music: are they not the triple expression of one fact, the +need of expansion, the need of touching with their own infinite the +infinite beyond them, which is in the fibre of all noble souls? These +three forms of poesy end in God, who alone can unwind the knot of +earthly emotion. Thus this holy human trinity joins itself to the +holiness of God, of whom we make to ourselves no conception unless we +surround him by the fires of love and the golden cymbals of music and +light and harmony. + +The French general divined that on this desert rock, surrounded by the +surging seas, the nun had cherished music to free her soul of the excess +of passion that consumed it. Did she offer her love as a homage to God? +Did the love triumph over the vows she had made to Him? Questions +difficult to answer. But, beyond all doubt, the lover had found in a +heart dead to the world a love as passionate as that which burned +within his own. + +When vespers ended he returned to the house of the alcalde, where he was +quartered. Giving himself over, a willing prey, to the delights of a +success long expected, laboriously sought, his mind at first could dwell +on nothing else,--he was still loved. Solitude had nourished the love of +that heart, just as his own had thriven on the barriers, successively +surmounted, which this woman had placed between herself and him. This +ecstasy of the spirit had its natural duration; then came the desire to +see this woman, to withdraw her from God, to win her back to himself,--a +bold project, welcome to a bold man. After the evening repast, he +retired to his room to escape questions and think in peace, and remained +plunged in deep meditation throughout the night. He rose early and went +to Mass. He placed himself close to the latticed screen, his brow +touching the brown curtain. He longed to rend it away; but he was not +alone, his host had accompanied him, and the least imprudence might +compromise the future of his love and ruin his new-found hopes. The +organ was played, but not by the same hand; the musician of the last two +days was absent from its key-board. All was chill and pale to the +general. Was his mistress worn out by the emotions which had wellnigh +broken down his own vigorous heart? Had she so truly shared and +comprehended his faithful and eager love that she now lay exhausted and +dying in her cell? At the moment when such thoughts as these rose in the +general's mind, he heard beside him the voice beloved; he knew the clear +ring of its tones. The voice, slightly changed by a tremor which gave it +the timid grace and modesty of a young girl, detached itself from the +volume of song, like the voice of a prima donna in the harmonies of her +final notes. It gave to the ear an impression like the effect to the eye +of a fillet of silver or gold threading a dark frieze. It was indeed +she! Still Parisian, she had not lost her gracious charm, though she had +forsaken the coronet and adornments of the world for the frontlet and +serge of a Carmelite. Having revealed her love the night before in the +praises addressed to the Lord of all, she seemed now to say to her +lover:--"Yes, it is I: I am here. I love forever; yet I am aloof from +love. Thou shalt hear me; my soul shall enfold thee; but I must stay +beneath the brown shroud of this choir, from which no power can tear me. +Thou canst not see me." + +"It is she!" whispered the general to himself, as he raised his head and +withdrew his hands from his face; for he had not been able to bear erect +the storm of feeling that shook his heart as the voice vibrated through +the arches and blended with the murmur of the waves. A storm raged +without, yet peace was within the sanctuary. The rich voice still +caressed the ear, and fell like balm upon the parched heart of the +lover; it flowered in the air about him, from which he breathed the +emanations of her spirit exhaling her love through the aspirations of +its prayer. + +The alcalde came to rejoin his guest, and found him bathed in tears at +the elevation of the Host which was chanted by the nun. Surprised to +find such devotion in a French officer, he invited the confessor of the +convent to join them at supper, and informed the general, to whom no +news had ever given such pleasure, of what he had done. During the +supper the general made the confessor the object of much attention, and +thus confirmed the Spaniards in the high opinion they had formed of his +piety. He inquired with grave interest the number of the nuns, and asked +details about the revenues of the convent and its wealth, with the air +of a man who politely wished to choose topics which occupied the mind of +the good old priest. Then he inquired about the life led by the sisters. +Could they go out? Could they see friends? + +"Senhor," said the venorable priest, "the rule is severe. If the +permission of our Holy Father must be obtained before a woman can enter +a house of Saint Bruno [the Chartreux] the like rule exists here. It is +impossible for any man to enter a convent of the Bare-footed Carmelites, +unless he is a priest delegated by the archbishop for duty in the House. +No nun can go out. It is true, however, that the Great Saint, Mother +Theresa, did frequently leave her cell. A Mother-superior can alone, +under authority of the archbishop, permit a nun to see her friends, +especially in case of illness. As this convent is one of the chief +Houses of the Order, it has a Mother-superior residing in it. We have +several foreigners,--among them a Frenchwoman, Sister Theresa, the one +who directs the music in the chapel." + +"Ah!" said the general, feigning surprise: "she must have been gratified +by the triumph of the House of Bourbon?" + +"I told them the object of the Mass; they are always rather curious." + +"Perhaps Sister Theresa has some interests in France; she might be glad +to receive some news, or ask some questions?" + +"I think not; or she would have spoken to me." + +"As a compatriot," said the general, "I should be curious to see--that +is, if it were possible, if the superior would consent, if--" + +"At the grating, even in the presence of the reverend Mother, an +interview would be absolutely impossible for any ordinary man, no matter +who he was; but in favor of a liberator of a Catholic throne and our +holy religion, possibly, in spite of the rigid rule of our Mother +Theresa, the rule might be relaxed," said the confessor. "I will speak +about it." + +"How old is Sister Theresa?" asked the lover, who dared not question the +priest about the beauty of the nun. + +"She is no longer of any age," said the good old man, with a simplicity +which made the general shudder. + + + III + +The next day, before the _siesta_, the confessor came to tell the +general that Sister Theresa and the Mother-superior consented to receive +him at the grating that evening before the hour of vespers. After the +_siesta_, during which the Frenchman had whiled away the time by walking +round the port in the fierce heat of the sun, the priest came to show +him the way into the convent. + +He was guided through a gallery which ran the length of the cemetery, +where fountains and trees and numerous arcades gave a cool freshness in +keeping with that still and silent spot. When they reached the end of +this long gallery, the priest led his companion into a parlor, divided +in the middle by a grating covered with a brown curtain. On the side +which we must call public, and where the confessor left the general, +there was a wooden bench along one side of the wall; some chairs, also +of wood, were near the grating. The ceiling was of wood, crossed by +heavy beams of the evergreen oak, without ornament. Daylight came from +two windows in the division set apart for the nuns, and was absorbed by +the brown tones of the room; so that it barely showed the picture of the +great black Christ, and those of Saint Theresa and the Blessed Virgin, +which hung on the dark panels of the walls. + +The feelings of the general turned, in spite of their violence, to a +tone of melancholy. He grew calm in these calm precincts. Something +mighty as the grave seized him beneath these chilling rafters. Was it +not the eternal silence, the deep peace, the near presence of the +infinite? Through the stillness came the fixed thought of the +cloister,--that thought which glides through the air in the half-lights, +and is in all things,--the thought unchangeable; nowhere seen, which yet +grows vast to the imagination; the all-comprising phrase, _the peace of +God_. It enters there, with living power, into the least religious +heart. Convents of men are not easily conceivable; man seems feeble and +unmanly in them. He is born to act, to fulfil a life of toil; and he +escapes it in his cell. But in a monastery of women what strength to +endure, and yet what touching weakness! A man may be pushed by a +thousand sentiments into the depths of an abbey; he flings himself into +them as from a precipice. But the woman is drawn only by one feeling; +she does not unsex herself,--she espouses holiness. You may say to the +man, Why did you not struggle? but to the cloistered woman life is a +struggle still. + +The general found in this mute parlor of the seagirt convent memories of +himself. Love seldom reaches upward to solemnity; but love in the bosom +of God,--is there nothing solemn there? Yes, more than a man has the +right to hope for in this nineteenth century, with our manners and our +customs what they are. + +The general's soul was one on which such impressions act. His nature was +noble enough to forget self-interest, honors, Spain, the world, or +Paris, and rise to the heights of feeling roused by this unspeakable +termination of his long pursuit. What could be more tragic? How many +emotions held these lovers, reunited at last on this granite ledge far +out at sea, yet separated by an idea, an impassable barrier. Look at +this man, saying to himself, "Can I triumph over God in that heart?" + +A slight noise made him quiver. The brown curtain was drawn back; he saw +in the half-light a woman standing, but her face was hidden from him by +the projection of a veil, which lay in many folds upon her head. +According to the rule of the Order she was clothed in the brown garb +whose color has become proverbial. The general could not see the naked +feet, which would have told him the frightful emaciation of her body; +yet through the thick folds of the coarse robe that swathed her, his +heart divined that tears and prayers and passion and solitude had +wasted her away. + +The chill hand of a woman, doubtless the Mother-superior, held back the +curtain, and the general, examining this unwelcome witness of the +interview, encountered the deep grave eyes of an old nun, very aged, +whose clear, even youthful, glance belied the wrinkles that furrowed her +pale face. + +"Madame la duchesse," he said, in a voice shaken by emotion, to the +Sister, who bowed her head, "does your companion understand French?" + +"There is no duchess here," replied the nun. "You are in presence of +Sister Theresa. The woman whom you call my companion is my Mother in +God, my superior here below." + +These words, humbly uttered by a voice that once harmonized with the +luxury and elegance in which this woman had lived queen of the world of +Paris, that fell from lips whose language had been of old so gay, so +mocking, struck the general as if with an electric shock. + +"My holy Mother speaks only Latin and Spanish," she added. + +"I understand neither. Dear Antoinette, make her my excuses." + +As she heard her name softly uttered by a man once so hard to her, the +nun was shaken by emotion, betrayed only by the light quivering of her +veil, on which the light now fully fell. + +"My brother," she said, passing her sleeve beneath her veil, perhaps to +wipe her eyes, "my name is Sister Theresa." + +Then she turned to the Mother, and said to her in Spanish a few words +which the general plainly heard. He knew enough of the language to +understand it, perhaps to speak it. "My dear Mother, this gentleman +presents to you his respects, and begs you to excuse him for not laying +them himself at your feet; but he knows neither of the languages which +you speak." + +The old woman slowly bowed her head; her countenance took an expression +of angelic sweetness, tempered, nevertheless, by the consciousness of +her power and dignity. + +"You know this gentleman?" she asked, with a piercing glance at the +Sister. + +"Yes, my Mother." + +"Retire to your cell, my daughter," said the Superior in a tone of +authority. + +The general hastily withdrew to the shelter of the curtain, lest his +face should betray the anguish these words cost him; but he fancied that +the penetrating eyes of the Superior followed him even into the shadow. +This woman, arbiter of the frail and fleeting joy he had won at such +cost, made him afraid; he trembled, he whom a triple range of cannon +could not shake. + +The duchess walked to the door, but there she turned. "My Mother," she +said, in a voice horribly calm, "this Frenchman is one of my brothers." + +"Remain, therefore, my daughter," said the old woman, after a pause. + +The jesuitism of this answer revealed such love and such regret, that a +man of less firmness than the general would have betrayed his joy in the +midst of a peril so novel to him. But what value could there be in the +words, looks, gestures of a love that must be hidden from the eyes of a +lynx, the claws of a tiger? The Sister came back. + +"You see, my brother," she said, "what I have dared to do that I might +for one moment speak to you of your salvation, and tell you of the +prayers which day by day my soul offers to heaven on your behalf. I have +committed a mortal sin,--I have lied. How many days of penitence to wash +out that lie! But I shall suffer for you. You know not, my brother, the +joy of loving in heaven, of daring to avow affections that religion has +purified, that have risen to the highest regions, that at last we know +and feel with the soul alone. If the doctrines--if the spirit of the +saint to whom we owe this refuge had not lifted me above the anguish of +earth to a world, not indeed where she is, but far above my lower life, +I could not have seen you now. But I can see you, I can hear you, and +remain calm." + +"Antoinette," said the general, interrupting these words, "suffer me to +see you--you, whom I love passionately, to madness, as you once would +have had me love you." + +"Do not call me Antoinette, I implore you: memories of the past do me +harm. See in me only the Sister Theresa, a creature trusting all to the +divine pity. And," she added, after a pause, "subdue yourself, my +brother. Our Mother would separate us instantly if your face betrayed +earthly passions, or your eyes shed tears." + +The general bowed his head, as if to collect himself; when he again +lifted his eyes to the grating he saw between two bars the pale, +emaciated, but still ardent face of the nun. Her complexion, where once +had bloomed the loveliness of youth,--where once there shone the happy +contrast of a pure, clear whiteness with the colors of a Bengal +rose,--now had the tints of a porcelain cup through which a feeble light +showed faintly. The beautiful hair of which this woman was once so proud +was shaven; a white band bound her brows and was wrapped around her +face. Her eyes, circled with dark shadows due to the austerities of her +life, glanced at moments with a feverish light, of which their habitual +calm was but the mask. In a word, of this woman nothing remained but +her soul. + +"Ah! you will leave this tomb--you, who are my life! You belonged to me; +you were not free to give yourself--not even to God. Did you not promise +to sacrifice all to the least of my commands? Will you now think me +worthy to claim that promise, if I tell you what I have done for your +sake? I have sought you through the whole world. For five years you have +been the thought of every instant, the occupation of every hour, of my +life. My friends--friends all-powerful as you know--have helped me to +search the convents of France, Spain, Italy, Sicily, America. My love +has deepened with every fruitless search. Many a long journey I have +taken on a false hope. I have spent my life and the strong beatings of +my heart about the walls of cloisters. I will not speak to you of a +fidelity unlimited. What is it?--nothing compared to the infinitude of +my love! If in other days your remorse was real, you cannot hesitate to +follow me now." + +"You forget that I am not free." + +"The duke is dead," he said hastily. + +Sister Theresa colored. "May Heaven receive him!" she said, with quick +emotion: "he was generous to me. But I did not speak of those ties: one +of my faults was my willingness to break them without scruple for you." + +"You speak of your vows," cried the general, frowning. "I little thought +that anything would weigh in your heart against our love. But do not +fear, Antoinette; I will obtain a brief from the Holy Father which will +absolve your vows. I will go to Rome; I will petition every earthly +power; if God himself came down from heaven I--" + +"Do not blaspheme!" + +"Do not fear how God would see it! Ah! I wish I were as sure that you +will leave these walls with me; that to-night--to-night, you would +embark at the feet of these rocks. Let us go to find happiness! I know +not where--at the ends of the earth! With me you will come back to life, +to health--in the shelter of my love!" + +"Do not say these things," replied the Sister; "you do not know what you +now are to me. I love you better than I once loved you. I pray to God +for you daily. I see you no longer with the eyes of my body. If you but +knew, Armand, the joy of being able, without shame, to spend myself upon +a pure love which God protects! You do not know the joy I have in +calling down the blessings of heaven upon your head. I never pray for +myself: God will do with me according to his will. But you--at the price +of my eternity I would win the assurance that you are happy in this +world, that you will be happy in another throughout the ages. My life +eternal is all that misfortunes have left me to give you. I have grown +old in grief; I am no longer young or beautiful. Ah! you would despise a +nun who returned to be a woman; no sentiment, not even maternal love, +could absolve her. What could you say to me that would shake the +unnumbered reflections my heart has made in five long years,--and which +have changed it, hollowed it, withered it? Ah! I should have given +something less sad to God!" + +"What can I say to you, dear Antoinette? I will say that I love you; +that affection, love, true love, the joy of living in a heart all +ours,--wholly ours, without one reservation,--is so rare, so difficult +to find, that I once doubted you; I put you to cruel tests. But to-day I +love and trust you with all the powers of my soul. If you will follow me +I will listen throughout life to no voice but thine. I will look on +no face--" + +"Silence, Armand! you shorten the sole moments which are given to us to +see each other here below." + +"Antoinette! will you follow me?" + +"I never leave you. I live in your heart--but with another power than +that of earthly pleasure, or vanity, or selfish joy. I live here for +you, pale and faded, in the bosom of God. If God is just, you will +be happy." + +"Phrases! you give me phrases! But if I will to have you pale and +faded,--if I cannot be happy unless you are with me? What! will you +forever place duties before my love? Shall I never be above all things +else in your heart? In the past you put the world, or self--I know not +what--above me; to-day it is God, it is my salvation. In this Sister +Theresa I recognize the duchess; ignorant of the joys of love, unfeeling +beneath a pretense of tenderness! You do not love me! you never +loved me!--" + +"Oh, my brother!--" + +"You will not leave this tomb. You love my soul, you say: well! you +shall destroy it forever and ever. I will kill myself--" + +"My Mother!" cried the nun, "I have lied to you; this man is my lover." + +The curtain fell. The general, stunned, heard the doors close with +violence. + +"She loves me still!" he cried, comprehending all that was revealed in +the cry of the nun. "I will find means to carry her away!" + +He left the island immediately, and returned to France. + +Translation copyrighted by Roberts Brothers. + + +'AN EPISODE UNDER THE TERROR' + +On the 22d of January, 1793, towards eight o'clock in the evening, an +old gentlewoman came down the sharp declivity of the Faubourg +Saint-Martin, which ends near the church of Saint-Laurent in Paris. Snow +had fallen throughout the day, so that footfalls could be scarcely +heard. The streets were deserted. The natural fear inspired by such +stillness was deepened by the terror to which all France was then +a prey. + +The old lady had met no one. Her failing sight hindered her from +perceiving in the distance a few pedestrians, sparsely scattered like +shadows, along the broad road of the faubourg. She was walking bravely +through the solitude as if her age were a talisman to guard her from +danger; but after passing the Rue des Morts she fancied that she heard +the firm, heavy tread of a man coming behind her. The thought seized her +mind that she had been listening to it unconsciously for some time. +Terrified at the idea of being followed, she tried to walk faster to +reach a lighted shop-window, and settle the doubt which thus assailed +her. When well beyond the horizontal rays of light thrown across the +pavement, she turned abruptly and saw a human form looming through the +fog. The indistinct glimpse was enough. She staggered for an instant +under the weight of terror, for she no longer doubted that this unknown +man had tracked her, step by step, from her home. The hope of escaping +such a spy lent strength to her feeble limbs. Incapable of reasoning, +she quickened her steps to a run, as if it were possible to escape a man +necessarily more agile than she. After running for a few minutes, she +reached the shop of a pastry-cook, entered it, and fell, rather than +sat, down on a chair which stood before the counter. + +As she lifted the creaking latch of the door, a young woman, who was at +work on a piece of embroidery, looked up and recognized through the +glass panes the antiquated mantle of purple silk which wrapped the old +lady, and hastened to pull open a drawer, as if to take from thence +something that she had to give her. The action and the expression of the +young woman not only implied a wish to get rid of the stranger, as of +some one most unwelcome, but she let fall an exclamation of impatience +at finding the drawer empty. Then, without looking at the lady, she came +rapidly from behind the counter, and went towards the back-shop to call +her husband, who appeared at once. + +"Where have you put ---- ----?" she asked him, mysteriously, calling his +attention to the old lady by a glance, and not concluding her sentence. + +Although the pastry-cook could see nothing but the enormous black-silk +hood circled with purple ribbons which the stranger wore, he +disappeared, with a glance at his wife which seemed to say, "Do you +suppose I should leave _that_ on your counter?" + +Surprised at the silence and immobility of her customer, the wife came +forward, and was seized with a sudden movement of compassion as well as +of curiosity when she looked at her. Though the complexion of the old +gentlewoman was naturally livid, like that of a person vowed to secret +austerities, it was easy to see that some recent alarm had spread an +unusual paleness over her features. Her head-covering was so arranged as +to hide the hair, whitened no doubt by age, for the cleanly collar of +her dress proved that she wore no powder. The concealment of this +natural adornment gave to her countenance a sort of conventual severity; +but its features were grave and noble. In former days the habits and +manners of people of quality were so different from those of all other +classes that it was easy to distinguish persons of noble birth. The +young shop-woman felt certain, therefore, that the stranger was a +_ci-devant_, and one who had probably belonged to the court. + +"Madame?" she said, with involuntary respect, forgetting that the title +was proscribed. + +The old lady made no answer. Her eyes were fixed on the glass of the +shop-window, as if some alarming object were painted upon it. + +"What is the matter, _citoyenne_?" asked the master of the +establishment, re-entering, and drawing the attention of his customer +to a little cardboard box covered with blue paper, which he held out +to her. + +"It is nothing, nothing, my friends," she answered in a gentle voice, as +she raised her eyes to give the man a thankful look. Seeing a phrygian +cap upon his head, a cry escaped her:--"Ah! it is you who have +betrayed me!" + +The young woman and her husband replied by a deprecating gesture of +horror which caused the unknown lady to blush, either for her harsh +suspicion or from the relief of feeling it unjust. + +"Excuse me," she said, with childlike sweetness. Then taking a gold +_louis_ from her pocket, she offered it to the pastry-cook. "Here is the +sum we agreed upon," she added. + +There is a poverty which poor people quickly divine. The shopkeeper and +his wife looked at each other with a glance at the old lady that +conveyed a mutual thought. The _louis_ was doubtless her last. The hands +of the poor woman trembled as she offered it, and her eyes rested upon +it sadly, yet not with avarice. She seemed to feel the full extent of +her sacrifice. Hunger and want were traced upon her features in lines as +legible as those of timidity and ascetic habits. Her clothing showed +vestiges of luxury. It was of silk, well-worn; the mantle was clean, +though faded; the laces carefully darned; in short, here were the rags +of opulence. The two shopkeepers, divided between pity and +self-interest, began to soothe their conscience with words:-- + +"_Citoyenne_, you seem very feeble--" + +"Would Madame like to take something?" asked the wife, cutting short her +husband's speech. + +"We have some very good broth," he added. + +"It is so cold, perhaps Madame is chilled by her walk; but you can rest +here and warm yourself." + +"The devil is not so black as he is painted," cried the husband. + +Won by the kind tone of these words, the old lady admitted that she had +been followed by a man and was afraid of going home alone. + +"Is that all?" said the man with the phrygian cap. "Wait for me, +_citoyenne_." + +He gave the _louis_ to his wife. Then moved by a species of gratitude +which slips into the shopkeeping soul when its owner receives an +exorbitant price for an article of little value, he went to put on his +uniform as a National guard, took his hat, slung on his sabre, and +reappeared under arms. But the wife meantime had reflected. Reflection, +as often happens in many hearts, had closed the open hand of her +benevolence. Uneasy, and alarmed lest her husband should be mixed up in +some dangerous affair, she pulled him by the flap of his coat, intending +to stop him; but the worthy man, obeying the impulse of charity, +promptly offered to escort the poor lady to her home. + +"It seems that the man who has given her this fright is prowling +outside," said his wife nervously. + +"I am afraid he is," said the old lady, with much simplicity. + +"Suppose he should be a spy. Perhaps it is a conspiracy. Don't go. Take +back the box." These words, whispered in the pastry-cook's ear by the +wife of his bosom, chilled the sudden compassion that had warmed him. + +"Well, well, I will just say two words to the man and get rid of him," +he said, opening the door and hurrying out. + +The old gentlewoman, passive as a child and half paralyzed with fear, +sat down again. The shopkeeper almost instantly reappeared; but his +face, red by nature and still further scorched by the fires of his +bakery, had suddenly turned pale, and he was in the grasp of such terror +that his legs shook and his eyes were like those of a drunken man. + +"Miserable aristocrat!" he cried, furiously, "do you want to cut off our +heads? Go out from here; let me see your heels, and don't dare to come +back; don't expect me to supply you with the means of conspiracy!" + +So saying, the pastry-cook endeavored to get back the little box which +the old lady had already slipped into one of her pockets. Hardly had the +bold hands of the shopkeeper touched her clothing, than, preferring to +encounter danger with no protection but that of God rather than lose the +thing she had come to buy, she recovered the agility of youth, and +sprang to the door, through which she disappeared abruptly, leaving the +husband and wife amazed and trembling. + +As soon as the poor lady found herself alone in the street she began to +walk rapidly; but her strength soon gave way, for she once more heard +the snow creaking under the footsteps of the spy as he trod heavily upon +it. She was obliged to stop short: the man stopped also. She dared not +speak to him, nor even look at him; either because of her terror, or +from some lack of natural intelligence. Presently she continued her walk +slowly; the man measured his step by hers, and kept at the same distance +behind her; he seemed to move like her shadow. Nine o'clock struck as +the silent couple repassed the church of Saint-Laurent. It is the nature +of all souls, even the weakest, to fall back into quietude after moments +of violent agitation; for manifold as our feelings may be, our bodily +powers are limited. Thus the old lady, receiving no injury from her +apparent persecutor, began to think that he might be a secret friend +watching to protect her. She gathered up in her mind the circumstances +attending other apparitions of the mysterious stranger as if to find +plausible grounds for this consoling opinion, and took pleasure in +crediting him with good rather than sinister intentions. Forgetting the +terror he had inspired in the pastry-cook, she walked on with a firmer +step towards the upper part of the Faubourg Saint-Martin. + +At the end of half an hour she reached a house standing close to the +junction of the chief street of the faubourg with the street leading out +to the Barriere de Pantin. The place is to this day one of the loneliest +in Paris. The north wind blowing from Belleville and the Buttes Chaumont +whistled among the houses, or rather cottages, scattered through the +sparsely inhabited little valley, where the inclosures are fenced with +walls built of mud and refuse bones. This dismal region seems the +natural home of poverty and despair. The man who was intent on following +the poor creature who had had the courage to thread these dark and +silent streets seemed struck with the spectacle they offered. He stopped +as if reflecting, and stood in a hesitating attitude, dimly visible by a +street lantern whose flickering light scarcely pierced the fog. Fear +gave eyes to the old gentlewoman, who now fancied that she saw something +sinister in the features of this unknown man. All her terrors revived, +and profiting by the curious hesitation that had seized him, she glided +like a shadow to the doorway of the solitary dwelling, touched a spring, +and disappeared with phantasmagoric rapidity. + +The man, standing motionless, gazed at the house, which was, as it were, +a type of the wretched buildings of the neighborhood. The tottering +hovel, built of porous stone in rough blocks, was coated with yellow +plaster much cracked, and looked ready to fall before a gust of wind. +The roof, of brown tiles covered with moss, had sunk in several places, +and gave the impression that the weight of snow might break it down at +any moment. Each story had three windows whose frames, rotted by +dampness and shrunken by the heat of the sun, told that the outer cold +penetrated to the chambers. The lonely house seemed like an ancient +tower that time had forgotten to destroy. A faint light gleamed from the +garret windows, which were irregularly cut in the roof; but the rest of +the house was in complete obscurity. The old woman went up the rough and +clumsy stairs with difficulty, holding fast to a rope which took the +place of baluster. She knocked furtively at the door of a lodging under +the roof, and sat hastily down on a chair which an old man offered her. + +"Hide! hide yourself!" she cried. "Though we go out so seldom, our +errands are known, our steps are watched--" + +"What has happened?" asked another old woman sitting near the fire. + +"The man who has hung about the house since yesterday followed me +to-night." + +At these words the occupants of the hovel looked at each other with +terror in their faces. The old man was the least moved of the three, +possibly because he was the one in greatest danger. Under the pressure +of misfortune or the yoke of persecution a man of courage begins, as it +were, by preparing for the sacrifice of himself: he looks upon his days +as so many victories won from fate. The eyes of the two women, fixed +upon the old man, showed plainly that he alone was the object of their +extreme anxiety. + +"Why distrust God, my sisters?" he said, in a hollow but impressive +voice. "We chanted praises to his name amid the cries of victims and +assassins at the convent. If it pleased him to save me from that +butchery, it was doubtless for some destiny which I shall accept without +a murmur. God protects his own, and disposes of them according to his +will. It is of you, not of me, that we should think." + +"No," said one of the women: "what is our life in comparison with that +of a priest?" + +"Ever since the day when I found myself outside of the Abbaye des +Chelles," said the nun beside the fire, "I have given myself up +for dead." + +"Here," said the one who had just come in, holding out the little box to +the priest, "here are the sacramental wafers--Listen!" she cried, +interrupting herself. "I hear some one on the stairs." + +At these words all three listened intently. The noise ceased. + +"Do not be frightened," said the priest, "even if some one asks to +enter. A person on whose fidelity we can safely rely has taken measures +to cross the frontier, and he will soon call here for letters which I +have written to the Duc de Langeais and the Marquis de Beauseant, +advising them as to the measures they must take to get you out of this +dreadful country, and save you from the misery or the death you would +otherwise undergo here." + +"Shall you not follow us?" said the two nuns softly, but in a tone of +despair. + +"My place is near the victims," said the priest, simply. + +The nuns were silent, looking at him with devout admiration. + +"Sister Martha," he said, addressing the nun who had fetched the wafers, +"this messenger must answer '_Fiat voluntas_' to the word '_Hosanna_.'" + +"There is some one on the stairway," exclaimed the other nun, hastily +opening a hiding-place burrowed at the edge of the roof. + +This time it was easy to hear the steps of a man sounding through the +deep silence on the rough stairs, which were caked with patches of +hardened mud. The priest slid with difficulty into a narrow +hiding-place, and the nuns hastily threw articles of apparel over him. + +"You can shut me in, Sister Agatha," he said, in a smothered voice. + +He was scarcely hidden when three knocks upon the door made the sisters +tremble and consult each other with their eyes, for they dared not +speak. Forty years' separation from the world had made them like plants +of a hot-house which wilt when brought into the outer air. Accustomed to +the life of a convent, they could not conceive of any other; and when +one morning their bars and gratings were flung down, they had shuddered +at finding themselves free. It is easy to imagine the species of +imbecility which the events of the Revolution, enacted before their +eyes, had produced in these innocent souls. Quite incapable of +harmonizing their conventual ideas with the exigencies of ordinary life, +not even comprehending their own situation, they were like children who +had always been cared for, and who now, torn from their maternal +providence, had taken to prayers as other children take to tears. So it +happened that in presence of immediate danger they were dumb and +passive, and could think of no other defence than Christian resignation. + +The man who sought to enter interpreted their silence as he pleased; he +suddenly opened the door and showed himself. The two nuns trembled when +they recognized the individual who for some days had watched the house +and seemed to make inquiries about its inmates. They stood quite still +and looked at him with uneasy curiosity, like the children of savages +examining a being of another sphere. The stranger was very tall and +stout, but nothing in his manner or appearance denoted that he was a bad +man. He copied the immobility of the sisters and stood motionless, +letting his eye rove slowly round the room. + +Two bundles of straw placed on two planks served as beds for the nuns. A +table was in the middle of the room; upon it a copper candlestick, a few +plates, three knives, and a round loaf of bread. The fire on the hearth +was very low, and a few sticks of wood piled in a corner of the room +testified to the poverty of the occupants. The walls, once covered with +a coat of paint now much defaced, showed the wretched condition of the +roof through which the rain had trickled, making a network of brown +stains. A sacred relic, saved no doubt from the pillage of the Abbaye +des Chelles, adorned the mantel-shelf of the chimney. Three chairs, two +coffers, and a broken chest of drawers completed the furniture of the +room. A doorway cut near the fireplace showed there was probably an +inner chamber. + +The inventory of this poor cell was soon made by the individual who had +presented himself under such alarming auspices. An expression of pity +crossed his features, and as he threw a kind glance upon the frightened +women he seemed as much embarrassed as they. The strange silence in +which they all three stood and faced each other lasted but a moment; for +the stranger seemed to guess the moral weakness and inexperience of the +poor helpless creatures, and he said, in a voice which he strove to +render gentle, "I have not come as an enemy, _citoyennes_." + +Then he paused, but resumed:--"My sisters, if harm should ever happen to +you, be sure that I shall not have contributed to it. I have come to ask +a favor of you." + +They still kept silence. + +"If I ask too much--if I annoy you--I will go away; but believe me, I am +heartily devoted to you, and if there is any service that I could +render you, you may employ me without fear. I, and I alone, perhaps, am +above law--since there is no longer a king." + +The ring of truth in these words induced Sister Agatha, a nun belonging +to the ducal house of Langeais, and whose manners indicated that she had +once lived amid the festivities of life and breathed the air of courts, +to point to a chair as if she asked their guest to be seated. The +unknown gave vent to an expression of joy, mingled with melancholy, as +he understood this gesture. He waited respectfully till the sisters were +seated, and then obeyed it. + +"You have given shelter," he said, "to a venerable priest not sworn in +by the Republic, who escaped miraculously from the massacre at the +Convent of the Carmelites." + +"_Hosanna_," said Sister Agatha, suddenly interrupting the stranger, and +looking at him with anxious curiosity. + +"That is not his name, I think," he answered. + +"But, Monsieur, we have no priest here," cried Sister Martha, hastily, +"and--" + +"Then you should take better precautions," said the unknown gently, +stretching his arm to the table and picking up a breviary. "I do not +think you understand Latin, and--" + +He stopped short, for the extreme distress painted on the faces of the +poor nuns made him fear he had gone too far; they trembled violently, +and their eyes filled with tears. + +"Do not fear," he said; "I know the name of your guest, and yours also. +During the last three days I have learned your poverty, and your great +devotion to the venerable Abbe of--" + +"Hush!" exclaimed Sister Agatha, ingenuously putting a finger on her +lip. + +"You see, my sisters, that if I had the horrible design of betraying +you, I might have accomplished it again and again." + +As he uttered these words the priest emerged from his prison and +appeared in the middle of the room. + +"I cannot believe, Monsieur," he said courteously, "that you are one of +our persecutors. I trust you. What is it you desire of me?" + +The saintly confidence of the old man, and the nobility of mind +imprinted on his countenance, might have disarmed even an assassin. He +who thus mysteriously agitated this home of penury and resignation stood +contemplating the group before him; then he addressed the priest in a +trustful tone, with these words:-- + +"My father, I came to ask you to celebrate a mass for the repose of the +soul--of--of a sacred being whose body can never lie in holy ground." + +The priest involuntarily shuddered. The nuns, not as yet understanding +who it was of whom the unknown man had spoken, stood with their necks +stretched and their faces turned towards the speakers, in an attitude of +eager curiosity. The ecclesiastic looked intently at the stranger; +unequivocal anxiety was marked on every feature, and his eyes offered an +earnest and even ardent prayer. + +"Yes," said the priest at length. "Return here at midnight, and I shall +be ready to celebrate the only funeral service that we are able to offer +in expiation of the crime of which you speak." + +The unknown shivered; a joy both sweet and solemn seemed to rise in his +soul above some secret grief. Respectfully saluting the priest and the +two saintly women, he disappeared with a mute gratitude which these +generous souls knew well how to interpret. + +Two hours later the stranger returned, knocked cautiously at the door of +the garret, and was admitted by Mademoiselle de Langeais, who led him to +the inner chamber of the humble refuge, where all was in readiness for +the ceremony. Between two flues of the chimney the nuns had placed the +old chest of drawers, whose broken edges were concealed by a magnificent +altar-cloth of green moire. A large ebony and ivory crucifix hanging on +the discolored wall stood out in strong relief from the surrounding +bareness, and necessarily caught the eye. Four slender little tapers, +which the sisters had contrived to fasten to the altar with sealing-wax, +threw a pale glimmer dimly reflected by the yellow wall. These feeble +rays scarcely lit up the rest of the chamber, but as their light fell +upon the sacred objects it seemed a halo falling from heaven upon the +bare and undecorated altar. + +The floor was damp. The attic roof, which sloped sharply on both sides +of the room, was full of chinks through which the wind penetrated. +Nothing could be less stately, yet nothing was ever more solemn than +this lugubrious ceremony. Silence so deep that some far-distant cry +could have pierced it, lent a sombre majesty to the nocturnal scene. The +grandeur of the occasion contrasted vividly with the poverty of its +circumstances, and roused a feeling of religious terror. On either side +of the altar the old nuns, kneeling on the tiled floor and taking no +thought of its mortal dampness, were praying in concert with the priest, +who, robed in his pontifical vestments, placed upon the altar a golden +chalice incrusted with precious stones,--a sacred vessel rescued, no +doubt, from the pillage of the Abbaye des Chelles. Close to this vase, +which was a gift of royal munificence, the bread and wine of the +consecrated sacrifice were contained in two glass tumblers scarcely +worthy of the meanest tavern. In default of a missal the priest had +placed his breviary on a corner of the altar. A common earthenware +platter was provided for the washing of those innocent hands, pure and +unspotted with blood. All was majestic and yet paltry; poor but noble; +profane and holy in one. + +The unknown man knelt piously between the sisters. Suddenly, as he +caught sight of the crape upon the chalice and the crucifix,--for in +default of other means of proclaiming the object of this funeral rite +the priest had put God himself into mourning,--the mysterious visitant +was seized by some all-powerful recollection, and drops of sweat +gathered on his brow. The four silent actors in this scene looked at +each other with mysterious sympathy; their souls, acting one upon +another, communicated to each the feelings of all, blending them into +the one emotion of religious pity. It seemed as though their thought had +evoked from the dead the sacred martyr whose body was devoured by +quicklime, but whose shade rose up before them in royal majesty. They +were celebrating a funeral Mass without the remains of the deceased. +Beneath these rafters and disjointed laths four Christian souls were +interceding with God for a king of France, and making his burial without +a coffin. It was the purest of all devotions; an act of wonderful +loyalty accomplished without one thought of self. Doubtless in the eyes +of God it was the cup of cold water that weighed in the balance against +many virtues. The whole of monarchy was there in the prayers of the +priest and the two poor women; but also it may have been that the +Revolution was present likewise, in the person of the strange being +whose face betrayed the remorse that led him to make this solemn +offering of a vast repentance. + +Instead of pronouncing the Latin words, "Introibo ad altare Dei" etc., +the priest, with divine intuition, glanced at his three assistants, who +represented all Christian France, and said, in words which effaced the +penury and meanness of the hovel, "We enter now into the sanctuary +of God." + +At these words, uttered with penetrating unction, a solemn awe seized +the participants. Beneath the dome of St. Peter's in Rome, God had never +seemed more majestic to man than he did now in this refuge of poverty +and to the eyes of these Christians,--so true is it that between man and +God all mediation is unneeded, for his glory descends from himself +alone. The fervent piety of the nameless man was unfeigned, and the +feeling that held these four servants of God and the king was unanimous. +The sacred words echoed like celestial music amid the silence. There was +a moment when the unknown broke down and wept: it was at the Pater +Noster, to which the priest added a Latin clause which the stranger +doubtless comprehended and applied,--"Et remitte scelus regicidis sicut +Ludovicus eis remisit semetipse" (And forgive the regicides even as +Louis XVI. himself forgave them). The two nuns saw the tears coursing +down the manly cheeks of their visitant, and dropping fast on the +tiled floor. + +The Office of the Dead was recited. The "Domine salvum fac regem," sung +in low tones, touched the hearts of these faithful royalists as they +thought of the infant king, now captive in the hands of his enemies, for +whom this prayer was offered. The unknown shuddered; perhaps he feared +an impending crime in which he would be called to take an +unwilling part. + +When the service was over, the priest made a sign to the nuns, who +withdrew to the outer room. As soon as he was alone with the unknown, +the old man went up to him with gentle sadness of manner, and said in +the tone of a father,-- + +"My son, if you have steeped your hands in the blood of the martyr king, +confess yourself to me. There is no crime which, in the eyes of God, is +not washed out by a repentance as deep and sincere as yours appears +to be." + +At the first words of the ecclesiastic an involuntary motion of terror +escaped the stranger; but he quickly recovered himself, and looked at +the astonished priest with calm assurance. + +"My father," he said, in a voice that nevertheless trembled, "no one is +more innocent than I of the blood shed--" + +"I believe it!" said the priest. + +He paused a moment, during which he examined afresh his penitent; then, +persisting in the belief that he was one of those timid members of the +Assembly who sacrificed the inviolate and sacred head to save their own, +he resumed in a grave voice:-- + +"Reflect, my son, that something more than taking no part in that great +crime is needed to absolve from guilt. Those who kept their sword in the +scabbard when they might have defended their king have a heavy account +to render to the King of kings. Oh, yes," added the venerable man, +moving his head from right to left with an expressive motion; "yes, +heavy, indeed! for, standing idle, they made themselves the accomplices +of a horrible transgression." + +"Do you believe," asked the stranger, in a surprised tone, "that even an +indirect participation will be punished? The soldier ordered to form the +line--do you think he was guilty?" + +The priest hesitated. Glad of the dilemma that placed this puritan of +royalty between the dogma of passive obedience, which according to the +partisans of monarchy should dominate the military system, and the other +dogma, equally imperative, which consecrates the person of the king, the +stranger hastened to accept the hesitation of the priest as a solution +of the doubts that seemed to trouble him. Then, so as not to allow the +old Jansenist time for further reflection, he said quickly:-- + +"I should blush to offer you any fee whatever in acknowledgment of the +funeral service you have just celebrated for the repose of the king's +soul and for the discharge of my conscience. We can only pay for +inestimable things by offerings which are likewise beyond all price. +Deign to accept, Monsieur, the gift which I now make to you of a holy +relic; the day may come when you will know its value." + +As he said these words he gave the ecclesiastic a little box of light +weight. The priest took it as it were involuntarily; for the solemn tone +in which the words were uttered, and the awe with which the stranger +held the box, struck him with fresh amazement. They re-entered the outer +room, where the two nuns were waiting for them. + +"You are living," said the unknown, "in a house whose owner, Mucius +Scaevola, the plasterer who lives on the first floor, is noted in the +Section for his patriotism. He is, however, secretly attached to the +Bourbons. He was formerly huntsman to Monseigneur the Prince de Conti, +to whom he owes everything. As long as you stay in this house you are in +greater safety than you can be in any other part of France. Remain +here. Pious souls will watch over you and supply your wants; and you +can await without danger the coming of better days. A year hence, on the +21st of January" (as he uttered these last words he could not repress an +involuntary shudder), "I shall return to celebrate once more the Mass of +expiation--" + +He could not end the sentence. Bowing to the silent occupants of the +garret, he cast a last look upon the signs of their poverty and +disappeared. + +To the two simple-minded women this event had all the interest of a +romance. As soon as the venerable abbe told them of the mysterious gift +so solemnly offered by the stranger, they placed the box upon the table, +and the three anxious faces, faintly lighted by a tallow-candle, +betrayed an indescribable curiosity. Mademoiselle de Langeais opened the +box and took from it a handkerchief of extreme fineness, stained with +sweat. As she unfolded it they saw dark stains. + +"That is blood!" exclaimed the priest. + +"It is marked with the royal crown!" cried the other nun. + +The sisters let fall the precious relic with gestures of horror. To +these ingenuous souls the mystery that wrapped their unknown visitor +became inexplicable, and the priest from that day forth forbade himself +to search for its solution. + +The three prisoners soon perceived that, in spite of the Terror, a +powerful arm was stretched over them. First, they received firewood and +provisions; next, the sisters guessed that a woman was associated with +their protector, for linen and clothing came to them mysteriously, and +enabled them to go out without danger of observation from the +aristocratic fashion of the only garments they had been able to secure; +finally, Mucius Scaevola brought them certificates of citizenship. +Advice as to the necessary means of insuring the safety of the venerable +priest often came to them from unexpected quarters, and proved so +singularly opportune that it was quite evident it could only have been +given by some one in possession of state secrets. In spite of the famine +which then afflicted Paris, they found daily at the door of their hovel +rations of white bread, laid there by invisible hands. They thought they +recognized in Mucius Scaevola the agent of these mysterious +benefactions, which were always timely and intelligent; but the noble +occupants of the poor garret had no doubt whatever that the unknown +individual who had celebrated the midnight Mass on the 22d of January, +1793, was their secret protector. They added to their daily prayers a +special prayer for him; night and day these pious hearts made +supplication for his happiness, his prosperity, his redemption. They +prayed that God would keep his feet from snares and save him from his +enemies, and grant him a long and peaceful life. + +Their gratitude, renewed as it were daily, was necessarily mingled with +curiosity that grew keener day by day. The circumstances attending the +appearance of the stranger were a ceaseless topic of conversation and of +endless conjecture, and soon became a benefit of a special kind, from +the occupation and distraction of mind which was thus produced. They +resolved that the stranger should not be allowed to escape the +expression of their gratitude when he came to commemorate the next sad +anniversary of the death of Louis XVI. + +That night, so impatiently awaited, came at length. At midnight the +heavy steps resounded up the wooden stairway. The room was prepared for +the service; the altar was dressed. This time the sisters opened the +door and hastened to light the entrance. Mademoiselle de Langeais even +went down a few stairs that she might catch the first glimpse of their +benefactor. + +"Come!" she said, in a trembling and affectionate voice. "Come, you are +expected!" + +The man raised his head, gave the nun a gloomy look, and made no answer. +She felt as though an icy garment had fallen upon her, and she kept +silence. At his aspect gratitude and curiosity died within their hearts. +He may have been less cold, less taciturn, less terrible than he seemed +to these poor souls, whose own emotions led them to expect a flow of +friendship from his. They saw that this mysterious being was resolved to +remain a stranger to them, and they acquiesced with resignation. But the +priest fancied he saw a smile, quickly repressed, upon the stranger's +lip as he saw the preparations made to receive him. He heard the Mass +and prayed, but immediately disappeared, refusing in a few courteous +words the invitation given by Mademoiselle de Langeais to remain and +partake of the humble collation they had prepared for him. + +After the 9th Thermidor the nuns and the Abbe de Marolles were able to +go about Paris without incurring any danger. The first visit of the old +priest was to a perfumery at the sign of the "Queen of Flowers," kept +by the citizen and _citoyenne_ Ragon, formerly perfumers to the Court, +well known for their faithfulness to the royal family, and employed by +the Vendeens as a channel of communication with the princes and royal +committees in Paris. The abbe, dressed as the times required, was +leaving the doorstep of the shop, situated between the church of +Saint-Roch and the Rue des Fondeurs, when a great crowd coming down the +Rue Saint-Honore hindered him from advancing. + +"What is it?" he asked of Madame Ragon. + +"Oh, nothing!" she answered. "It is the cart and the executioner going +to the Place Louis XV. Ah, we saw enough of that last year! but now, +four days after the anniversary of the 21st of January, we can look at +the horrid procession without distress." + +"Why so?" asked the abbe. "What you say is not Christian." + +"But this is the execution of the accomplices of Robespierre. They have +fought it off as long as they could, but now they are going in their +turn where they have sent so many innocent people." + +The crowd which filled the Rue Saint-Honore passed on like a wave. Above +the sea of heads the Abbe de Marolles, yielding to an impulse, saw, +standing erect in the cart, the stranger who three days before had +assisted for the second time in the Mass of commemoration. + +"Who is that?" he asked; "the one standing--" + +"That is the executioner," answered Monsieur Ragon, calling the man by +his monarchical name. + +"Help! help!" cried Madame Ragon. "Monsieur l'Abbe is fainting!" + +She caught up a flask of vinegar and brought him quickly back to +consciousness. + +"He must have given me," said the old priest, "the handkerchief with +which the king wiped his brow as he went to his martyrdom. Poor man! +that steel knife had a heart when all France had none!" + +The perfumers thought the words of the priest were an effect of +delirium. + +Translation copyrighted by Roberts Brothers. + + +A PASSION IN THE DESERT + +"The sight was fearful!" she exclaimed, as we left the menagerie of +Monsieur Martin. + +She had been watching that daring speculator as he went through his +wonderful performance in the den of the hyena. + +"How is it possible," she continued, "to tame those animals so as to be +certain that he can trust them?" + +"You think it a problem," I answered, interrupting her, "and yet it is a +natural fact." + +"Oh!" she cried, an incredulous smile flickering on her lip. + +"Do you think that beasts are devoid of passions?" I asked. "Let me +assure you that we teach them all the vices and virtues of our own state +of civilization." + +She looked at me in amazement. + +"The first time I saw Monsieur Martin," I added, "I exclaimed, as you +do, with surprise. I happened to be sitting beside an old soldier whose +right leg was amputated, and whose appearance had attracted my notice as +I entered the building. His face, stamped with the scars of battle, wore +the undaunted look of a veteran of the wars of Napoleon. Moreover, the +old hero had a frank and joyous manner which attracts me wherever I meet +it. He was doubtless one of those old campaigners whom nothing can +surprise, who find something to laugh at in the last contortions of a +comrade, and will bury a friend or rifle his body gayly; challenging +bullets with indifference; making short shrift for themselves or others; +and fraternizing, as a usual thing, with the devil. After looking very +attentively at the proprietor of the menagerie as he entered the den, my +companion curled his lip with that expression of satirical contempt +which well-informed men sometimes put on to mark the difference between +themselves and dupes. As I uttered my exclamation of surprise at the +coolness and courage of Monsieur Martin, the old soldier smiled, shook +his head, and said with a knowing glance, 'An old story!' + +"'How do you mean an old story?' I asked. 'If you could explain the +secret of this mysterious power, I should be greatly obliged to you.' + +"After a while, during which we became better acquainted, we went to +dine at the first cafe we could find after leaving the menagerie. A +bottle of champagne with our dessert brightened the old man's +recollections and made them singularly vivid. He related to me a +circumstance in his early history which proved that he had ample cause +to pronounce Monsieur Martin's performance 'an old story.'" + +When we reached her house, she was so persuasive and captivating, and +made me so many pretty promises, that I consented to write down for her +benefit the story told me by the old hero. On the following day I sent +her this episode of a historical epic, which might be entitled, 'The +French in Egypt.' + + * * * * * + +At the time of General Desaix's expedition to Upper Egypt a Provencal +soldier, who had fallen into the hands of the Maugrabins, was marched by +those tireless Arabs across the desert which lies beyond the cataracts +of the Nile. To put sufficient distance between themselves and the +French army, the Maugrabins made a forced march and did not halt until +after nightfall. They then camped about a well shaded with palm-trees, +near which they had previously buried a stock of provisions. Not +dreaming that the thought of escape could enter their captive's mind, +they merely bound his wrists, and lay down to sleep themselves, after +eating a few dates and giving their horses a feed of barley. When the +bold Provencal saw his enemies too soundly asleep to watch him, he used +his teeth to pick up a scimitar, with which, steadying the blade by +means of his knees, he contrived to cut through the cord which bound his +hands, and thus recovered his liberty. He at once seized a carbine and a +poniard, took the precaution to lay in a supply of dates, a small bag of +barley, some powder and ball, buckled on the scimitar, mounted one of +the horses, and spurred him in the direction where he supposed the +French army to be. Impatient to meet the outposts, he pressed the horse, +which was already wearied, so severely that the poor animal fell dead +with his flanks torn, leaving the Frenchman alone in the midst of +the desert. + +After marching for a long time through the sand with the dogged courage +of an escaping galley-slave, the soldier was forced to halt, as darkness +drew on: for his utter weariness compelled him to rest, though the +exquisite sky of an eastern night might well have tempted him to +continue the journey. Happily he had reached a slight elevation, at the +top of which a few palm-trees shot upward, whose leafage, seen from a +long distance against the sky, had helped to sustain his hopes. His +fatigue was so great that he threw himself down on a block of granite, +cut by Nature into the shape of a camp-bed, and slept heavily, without +taking the least precaution to protect himself while asleep. He accepted +the loss of his life as inevitable, and his last waking thought was one +of regret for having left the Maugrabins, whose nomad life began to +charm him now that he was far away from them and from every other hope +of succor. + +He was awakened by the sun, whose pitiless beams falling vertically upon +the granite rock produced an intolerable heat. The Provencal had +ignorantly flung himself down in a contrary direction to the shadows +thrown by the verdant and majestic fronds of the palm-trees. He gazed at +these solitary monarchs and shuddered. They recalled to his mind the +graceful shafts, crowned with long weaving leaves, which distinguish the +Saracenic columns of the cathedral of Arles. The thought overcame him, +and when, after counting the trees, he threw his eyes upon the scene +around him, an agony of despair convulsed his soul. He saw a limitless +ocean. The sombre sands of the desert stretched out till lost to sight +in all directions; they glittered with dark lustre like a steel blade +shining in the sun. He could not tell if it were an ocean or a chain of +lakes that lay mirrored before him. A hot vapor swept in waves above the +surface of this heaving continent. The sky had the Oriental glow of +translucent purity, which disappoints because it leaves nothing for the +imagination to desire. The heavens and the earth were both on fire. +Silence added its awful and desolate majesty. Infinitude, immensity +pressed down upon the soul on every side; not a cloud in the sky, not a +breath in the air, not a rift on the breast of the sand, which was +ruffled only with little ridges scarcely rising above its surface. Far +as the eye could reach the horizon fell away into space, marked by a +slender line, slim as the edge of a sabre,--like as in summer seas a +thread of light parts this earth from the heaven it meets. + +The Provencal clasped the trunk of a palm-tree as if it were the body of +a friend. Sheltered from the sun by its straight and slender shadow, he +wept; and presently sitting down he remained motionless, contemplating +with awful dread the implacable Nature stretched out before him. He +cried aloud, as if to tempt the solitude to answer him. His voice, lost +in the hollows of the hillock, sounded afar with a thin resonance that +returned no echo; the echo came from the soldier's heart. He was +twenty-two years old, and he loaded his carbine. + +"Time enough!" he muttered, as he put the liberating weapon on the sand +beneath him. + +Gazing by turns at the burnished blackness of the sand and the blue +expanse of the sky, the soldier dreamed of France. He smelt in fancy the +gutters of Paris; he remembered the towns through which he had passed, +the faces of his comrades, and the most trifling incidents of his life. +His southern imagination saw the pebbles of his own Provence in the +undulating play of the heated air, as it seemed to roughen the +far-reaching surface of the desert. Dreading the dangers of this cruel +mirage, he went down the little hill on the side opposite to that by +which he had gone up the night before. His joy was great when he +discovered a natural grotto, formed by the immense blocks of granite +which made a foundation for the rising ground. The remnants of a mat +showed that the place had once been inhabited, and close to the entrance +were a few palm-trees loaded with fruit. The instinct which binds men to +life woke in his heart. He now hoped to live until some Maugrabin should +pass that way; possibly he might even hear the roar of cannon, for +Bonaparte was at that time overrunning Egypt. Encouraged by these +thoughts, the Frenchman shook down a cluster of the ripe fruit under the +weight of which the palms were bending; and as he tasted this +unhoped-for manna, he thanked the former inhabitant of the grotto for +the cultivation of the trees, which the rich and luscious flesh of the +fruit amply attested. Like a true Provencal, he passed from the gloom of +despair to a joy that was half insane. He ran back to the top of the +hill, and busied himself for the rest of the day in cutting down one of +the sterile trees which had been his shelter the night before. + +Some vague recollection made him think of the wild beasts of the desert, +and foreseeing that they would come to drink at a spring which bubbled +through the sand at the foot of the rock, he resolved to protect his +hermitage by felling a tree across the entrance. Notwithstanding his +eagerness, and the strength which the fear of being attacked while +asleep gave to his muscles, he was unable to cut the palm-tree in pieces +during the day; but he succeeded in bringing it down. Towards evening +the king of the desert fell; and the noise of his fall, echoing far, +was like a moan from the breast of Solitude. The soldier shuddered, as +though he had heard a voice predicting evil. But, like an heir who does +not long mourn a parent, he stripped from the beautiful tree the arching +green fronds--its poetical adornment--and made a bed of them in his +refuge. Then, tired with his work and by the heat of the day, he fell +asleep beneath the red vault of the grotto. + +In the middle of the night his sleep was broken by a strange noise. He +sat up; the deep silence that reigned everywhere enabled him to hear the +alternating rhythm of a respiration whose savage vigor could not belong +to a human being. A terrible fear, increased by the darkness, by the +silence, by the rush of his waking fancies, numbed his heart. He felt +the contraction of his hair, which rose on end as his eyes, dilating to +their full strength, beheld through the darkness two faint amber lights. +At first he thought them an optical delusion; but by degrees the +clearness of the night enabled him to distinguish objects in the grotto, +and he saw, within two feet of him, an enormous animal lying at rest. + +Was it a lion? Was it a tiger? Was it a crocodile? The Provencal had not +enough education to know in what sub-species he ought to class the +intruder; but his terror was all the greater because his ignorance made +it vague. He endured the cruel trial of listening, of striving to catch +the peculiarties of this breathing without losing one of its +inflections, and without daring to make the slightest movement. A strong +odor, like that exhaled by foxes, only far more pungent and penetrating, +filled the grotto. When the soldier had tasted it, so to speak, by the +nose, his fear became terror; he could no longer doubt the nature of the +terrible companion whose royal lair he had taken for a bivouac. Before +long, the reflection of the moon, as it sank to the horizon, lighted up +the den and gleamed upon the shining, spotted skin of a panther. + +The lion of Egypt lay asleep, curled up like a dog, the peaceable +possessor of a kennel at the gate of a mansion; its eyes, which had +opened for a moment, were now closed; its head was turned towards the +Frenchman. A hundred conflicting thoughts rushed through the mind of the +panther's prisoner. Should he kill it with a shot from his musket? But +ere the thought was formed, he saw there was no room to take aim; the +muzzle would have gone beyond the animal. Suppose he were to wake it? +The fear kept him motionless. As he heard the beating of his heart +through the dead silence, he cursed the strong pulsations of his +vigorous blood, lest they should disturb the sleep which gave him time +to think and plan for safety. Twice he put his hand on his scimitar, +with the idea of striking off the head of his enemy; but the difficulty +of cutting through the close-haired skin made him renounce the bold +attempt. Suppose he missed his aim? It would, he knew, be certain death. +He preferred the chances of a struggle, and resolved to await the dawn. +It was not long in coming. As daylight broke, the Frenchman was able to +examine the animal. Its muzzle was stained with blood. "It has eaten a +good meal," thought he, not caring whether the feast were human flesh or +not; "it will not be hungry when it wakes." + +It was a female. The fur on the belly and on the thighs was of sparkling +whiteness. Several little spots like velvet made pretty bracelets round +her paws. The muscular tail was also white, but it terminated with black +rings. The fur of the back, yellow as dead gold and very soft and +glossy, bore the characteristic spots, shaded like a full-blown rose, +which distinguish the panther from all other species of _felis_. This +terrible hostess lay tranquilly snoring, in an attitude as easy and +graceful as that of a cat on the cushions of an ottoman. Her bloody +paws, sinewy and well-armed, were stretched beyond her head, which lay +upon them; and from her muzzle projected a few straight hairs called +whiskers, which shimmered in the early light like silver wires. + +If he had seen her lying thus imprisoned in a cage, the Provencal would +have admired the creature's grace, and the strong contrasts of vivid +color which gave to her robe an imperial splendor; but as it was, his +sight was jaundiced by sinister forebodings. The presence of the +panther, though she was still asleep, had the same effect upon his mind +as the magnetic eyes of a snake produce, we are told, upon the +nightingale. The soldier's courage oozed away in presence of this silent +peril, though he was a man who gathered nerve before the mouths of +cannon belching grape-shot. And yet, ere long, a bold thought entered +his mind, and checked the cold sweat which was rolling from his brow. +Roused to action, as some men are when, driven face to face with death, +they defy it and offer themselves to their doom, he saw a tragedy +before him, and he resolved to play his part with honor to the last. + +"Yesterday," he said, "the Arabs might have killed me." + +Regarding himself as dead, he waited bravely, but with anxious +curiosity, for the waking of his enemy. When the sun rose, the panther +suddenly opened her eyes; then she stretched her paws violently, as if +to unlimber them from the cramp of their position. Presently she yawned +and showed the frightful armament of her teeth, and her cloven tongue, +rough as a grater. + +"She is like a dainty woman," thought the Frenchman, watching her as she +rolled and turned on her side with an easy and coquettish movement. She +licked the blood from her paws, and rubbed her head with a reiterated +movement full of grace. + +"Well done! dress yourself prettily, my little woman," said the +Frenchman, who recovered his gayety as soon as he had recovered his +courage. "We are going to bid each other good-morning;" and he felt for +the short poniard which he had taken from the Maugrabins. + +At this instant the panther turned her head towards the Frenchman and +looked at him fixedly, without moving. The rigidity of her metallic eyes +and their insupportable clearness made the Provencal shudder. The beast +moved towards him; he looked at her caressingly, with a soothing glance +by which he hoped to magnetize her. He let her come quite close to him +before he stirred; then with a touch as gentle and loving as he might +have used to a pretty woman, he slid his hand along her spine from the +head to the flanks, scratching with his nails the flexible vertebrae +which divide the yellow back of a panther. The creature drew up her tail +voluptuously, her eyes softened, and when for the third time the +Frenchman bestowed this self-interested caress, she gave vent to a purr +like that with which a cat expresses pleasure: but it issued from a +throat so deep and powerful that the sound echoed through the grotto +like the last chords of an organ rolling along the roof of a church. The +Provencal, perceiving the value of his caresses, redoubled them until +they had completely soothed and lulled the imperious courtesan. + +When he felt that he had subdued the ferocity of his capricious +companion, whose hunger had so fortunately been appeased the night +before, he rose to leave the grotto. The panther let him go; but as soon +as he reached the top of the little hill she bounded after him with the +lightness of a bird hopping from branch to branch, and rubbed against +his legs, arching her back with the gesture of a domestic cat. Then +looking at her guest with an eye that was growing less inflexible, she +uttered the savage cry which naturalists liken to the noise of a saw. + +"My lady is exacting," cried the Frenchman, smiling. He began to play +with her ears and stroke her belly, and at last he scratched her head +firmly with his nails. Encouraged by success, he tickled her skull with +the point of his dagger, looking for the right spot where to stab her; +but the hardness of the bone made him pause, dreading failure. + +The sultana of the desert acknowledged the talents of her slave by +lifting her head and swaying her neck to his caresses, betraying +satisfaction by the tranquillity of her relaxed attitude. The Frenchman +suddenly perceived that he could assassinate the fierce princess at a +blow, if he struck her in the throat; and he had raised the weapon, when +the panther, surfeited perhaps with his caresses, threw herself +gracefully at his feet, glancing up at him with a look in which, despite +her natural ferocity, a flicker of kindness could be seen. The poor +Provencal, frustrated for the moment, ate his dates as he leaned against +a palm-tree, casting from time to time an interrogating eye across the +desert in the hope of discerning rescue from afar, and then lowering it +upon his terrible companion, to watch the chances of her uncertain +clemency. Each time that he threw away a date-stone the panther eyed the +spot where it fell with an expression of keen distrust; and she examined +the Frenchman with what might be called commercial prudence. The +examination, however, seemed favorable, for when the man had finished +his meagre meal she licked his shoes and wiped off the dust, which was +caked into the folds of the leather, with her rough and powerful tongue. + +"How will it be when she is hungry?" thought the Provencal. In spite of +the shudder which this reflection cost him, his attention was attracted +by the symmetrical proportions of the animal, and he began to measure +them with his eye. She was three feet in height to the shoulder, and +four feet long, not including the tail. That powerful weapon, which was +round as a club, measured three feet. The head, as large as that of a +lioness, was remarkable for an expression of crafty intelligence; the +cold cruelty of a tiger was its ruling trait, and yet it bore a vague +resemblance to the face of an artful woman. As the soldier watched her, +the countenance of this solitary queen shone with savage gayety like +that of Nero in his cups: she had slaked her thirst for blood, and now +wished for play. The Frenchman tried to come and go, and accustomed her +to his movements. The panther left him free, as if contented to follow +him with her eyes, seeming, however, less like a faithful dog watching +his master's movements with affection, than a huge Angora cat uneasy and +suspicious of them. A few steps brought him to the spring, where he saw +the carcass of his horse, which the panther had evidently carried there. +Only two-thirds was eaten. The sight reassured the Frenchman; for it +explained the absence of his terrible companion and the forbearance +which she had shown to him while asleep. + +This first good luck encouraged the reckless soldier as he thought of +the future. The wild idea of making a home with the panther until some +chance of escape occurred entered his mind, and he resolved to try every +means of taming her and of turning her good-will to account. With these +thoughts he returned to her side, and noticed joyfully that she moved +her tail with an almost imperceptible motion. He sat down beside her +fearlessly, and they began to play with each other. He held her paws and +her muzzle, twisted her ears, threw her over on her back, and stroked +her soft warm flanks. She allowed him to do so; and when he began to +smooth the fur of her paws, she carefully drew in her murderous claws, +which were sharp and curved like a Damascus blade. The Frenchman kept +one hand on his dagger, again watching his opportunity to plunge it into +the belly of the too-confiding beast; but the fear that she might +strangle him in her last convulsions once more stayed his hand. +Moreover, he felt in his heart a foreboding of a remorse which warned +him not to destroy a hitherto inoffensive creature. He even fancied that +he had found a friend in the limitless desert. His mind turned back, +involuntarily, to his first mistress, whom he had named in derision +"Mignonne," because her jealousy was so furious that throughout the +whole period of their intercourse he lived in dread of the knife with +which she threatened him. This recollection of his youth suggested the +idea of teaching the young panther, whose soft agility and grace he now +admired with less terror, to answer to the caressing name. Towards +evening he had grown so familiar with his perilous position that he was +half in love with its dangers, and his companion was so far tamed that +she had caught the habit of turning to him when he called, in falsetto +tones, "Mignonne!" + +As the sun went down Mignonne uttered at intervals a prolonged, deep, +melancholy cry. + +"She is well brought up," thought the gay soldier. "She says her +prayers." But the jest only came into his mind as he watched the +peaceful attitude of his comrade. + +"Come, my pretty blonde, I will let you go to bed first," he said, +relying on the activity of his legs to get away as soon as she fell +asleep, and trusting to find some other resting-place for the night. He +waited anxiously for the right moment, and when it came he started +vigorously in the direction of the Nile. But he had scarcely marched for +half an hour through the sand before he heard the panther bounding after +him, giving at intervals the saw-like cry which was more terrible to +hear than the thud of her bounds. + +"Well, well!" he cried, "she must have fallen in love with me! Perhaps +she has never met any one else. It is flattering to be her first love." + +So thinking, he fell into one of the treacherous quicksands which +deceive the inexperienced traveler in the desert, and from which there +is seldom any escape. He felt he was sinking, and he uttered a cry of +despair. The panther seized him by the collar with her teeth, and sprang +vigorously backward, drawing him, like magic, from the sucking sand. + +"Ah, Mignonne!" cried the soldier, kissing her with enthusiasm, "we +belong to each other now,--for life, for death! But play me no tricks," +he added, as he turned back the way he came. + +From that moment the desert was, as it were, peopled for him. It held a +being to whom he could talk, and whose ferocity was now lulled into +gentleness, although he could scarcely explain to himself the reasons +for this extraordinary friendship. His anxiety to keep awake and on his +guard succumbed to excessive weariness both of body and mind, and +throwing himself down on the floor of the grotto he slept soundly. At +his waking Mignonne was gone. He mounted the little hill to scan the +horizon, and perceived her in the far distance returning with the long +bounds peculiar to these animals, who are prevented from running by the +extreme flexibility of their spinal column. + +Mignonne came home with bloody jaws, and received the tribute of +caresses which her slave hastened to pay, all the while manifesting her +pleasure by reiterated purring. + +Her eyes, now soft and gentle, rested kindly on the Provencal, who spoke +to her lovingly as he would to a domestic animal. + +"Ah! Mademoiselle,--for you are an honest girl, are you not? You like to +be petted, don't you? Are you not ashamed of yourself? You have been +eating a Maugrabin. Well, well! they are animals like the rest of you. +But you are not to craunch up a Frenchman; remember that! If you do, I +will not love you." + +She played like a young dog with her master, and let him roll her over +and pat and stroke her, and sometimes she would coax him to play by +laying a paw upon his knee with a pretty soliciting gesture. + +Several days passed rapidly. This strange companionship revealed to the +Provencal the sublime beauties of the desert. The alternations of hope +and fear, the sufficiency of food, the presence of a creature who +occupied his thoughts,--all this kept his mind alert, yet free: it was a +life full of strange contrasts. Solitude revealed to him her secrets, +and wrapped him with her charm. In the rising and the setting of the sun +he saw splendors unknown to the world of men. He quivered as he listened +to the soft whirring of the wings of a bird,--rare visitant!--or watched +the blending of the fleeting clouds,--those changeful and many-tinted +voyagers. In the waking hours of the night he studied the play of the +moon upon the sandy ocean, where the strong simoom had rippled the +surface into waves and ever-varying undulations. He lived in the Eastern +day; he worshiped its marvelous glory. He rejoiced in the grandeur of +the storms when they rolled across the vast plain, and tossed the sand +upward till it looked like a dry red fog or a solid death-dealing vapor; +and as the night came on he welcomed it with ecstasy, grateful for the +blessed coolness of the light of the stars. His ears listened to the +music of the skies. Solitude taught him the treasures of meditation. He +spent hours in recalling trifles, and in comparing his past life with +the weird present. + +He grew fondly attached to his panther; for he was a man who needed an +affection. Whether it were that his own will, magnetically strong, had +modified the nature of his savage princess, or that the wars then raging +in the desert had provided her with an ample supply of food, it is +certain that she showed no sign of attacking him, and became so tame +that he soon felt no fear of her. He spent much of his time in sleeping; +though with his mind awake, like a spider in its web, lest he should +miss some deliverance that might chance to cross the sandy sphere marked +out by the horizon. He had made his shirt into a banner and tied it to +the top of a palm-tree which he had stripped of its leafage. Taking +counsel of necessity, he kept the flag extended by fastening the corners +with twigs and wedges; for the fitful wind might have failed to wave it +at the moment when the longed-for succor came in sight. + +Nevertheless, there were long hours of gloom when hope forsook him; and +then he played with his panther. He learned to know the different +inflections of her voice and the meanings of her expressive glance; he +studied the variegation of the spots which shaded the dead gold of her +robe. Mignonne no longer growled when he caught the tuft of her +dangerous tail and counted the black and white rings which glittered in +the sunlight like a cluster of precious stones. He delighted in the soft +lines of her lithe body, the whiteness of her belly, the grace of her +charming head: but above all he loved to watch her as she gamboled at +play. The agility and youthfulness of her movements were a constantly +fresh surprise to him. He admired the suppleness of the flexible body as +she bounded, crept, and glided, or clung to the trunk of palm-trees, or +rolled over and over, crouching sometimes to the ground, and gathering +herself together as she made ready for her vigorous spring. Yet, however +vigorous the bound, however slippery the granite block on which she +landed, she would stop short, motionless, at the one word "Mignonne." + +One day, under a dazzling sun, a large bird hovered in the sky. The +Provencal left his panther to watch the new guest. After a moment's +pause the neglected sultana uttered a low growl. + +"The devil take me! I believe she is jealous!" exclaimed the soldier, +observing the rigid look which once more appeared in her metallic eyes. +"The soul of Sophronie has got into her body!" + +The eagle disappeared in ether, and the Frenchman, recalled by the +panther's displeasure, admired afresh her rounded flanks and the perfect +grace of her attitude. She was as pretty as a woman. The blonde +brightness of her robe shaded, with delicate gradations, to the +dead-white tones of her furry thighs; the vivid sunshine brought out the +brilliancy of this living gold and its variegated brown spots with +indescribable lustre. The panther and the Provencal gazed at each other +with human comprehension. She trembled with delight--the coquettish +creature!--as she felt the nails of her friend scratching the strong +bones of her skull. Her eyes glittered like flashes of lightning, and +then she closed them tightly. + +"She has a soul!" cried the soldier, watching the tranquil repose of +this sovereign of the desert, golden as the sands, white as their +pulsing light, solitary and burning as they. + + * * * * * + +"Well," she said, "I have read your defense of the beasts. But tell me +what was the end of this friendship between two beings so formed to +understand each other?" + +"Ah, exactly," I replied. "It ended as all great passions end,--by a +misunderstanding. Both sides imagine treachery, pride prevents an +explanation, and the rupture comes about through obstinacy." + +"Yes," she said, "and sometimes a word, a look, an exclamation suffices. +But tell me the end of the story." + +"That is difficult," I answered. "But I will give it to you in the words +of the old veteran, as he finished the bottle of champagne and +exclaimed:-- + +"'I don't know how I could have hurt her, but she suddenly turned upon +me as if in fury, and seized my thigh with her sharp teeth; and yet (as +I afterwards remembered) not cruelly. I thought she meant to devour me, +and I plunged my dagger into her throat. She rolled over with a cry that +froze my soul; she looked at me in her death struggle, but without +anger. I would have given all the world--my cross, which I had not then +gained, all, everything--to have brought her back to life. It was as if +I had murdered a friend, a human being. When the soldiers who saw my +flag came to my rescue they found me weeping. Monsieur,' he resumed, +after a moment's silence, 'I went through the wars in Germany, Spain, +Russia, France; I have marched my carcass well-nigh over all the world; +but I have seen nothing comparable to the desert. Ah, it is grand! +glorious!' + +"'What were your feelings there?' I asked. + +"'They cannot be told, young man. Besides, I do not always regret my +panther and my palm-tree oasis: I must be very sad for that. But I will +tell you this: in the desert there is all--and yet nothing.' + +"'Stay!--explain that.' + +"'Well, then,' he said, with a gesture of impatience, 'God is there, and +man is not.'" + + +FROM 'THE COUNTRY DOCTOR' + +THE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE + +"Let us go to my barn," said the doctor, taking Genestas by the arm, +after saying good-night to the curate and his other guests. "And there, +Captain Bluteau, you will hear about Napoleon. We shall find a few old +cronies who will set Goguelat, the postman, to declaiming about the +people's god. Nicolle, my stable-man, was to put a ladder by which we +can get into the hay-loft through a window, and find a place where we +can see and hear all that goes on. A _veillee_ is worth the trouble, +believe me. Come, it isn't the first time I've hidden in the hay to hear +the tale of a soldier or some peasant yarn. But we must hide; if these +poor people see a stranger they are constrained at once, and are no +longer their natural selves." + +"Eh! my dear host," said Genestas, "haven't I often pretended to sleep, +that I might listen to my troopers round a bivouac? I never laughed more +heartily in the Paris theatres than I did at an account of the retreat +from Moscow, told in fun, by an old sergeant to a lot of recruits who +were afraid of war. He declared the French army slept in sheets, and +drank its wine well-iced; that the dead stood still in the roads; Russia +was white, they curried the horses with their teeth; those who liked to +skate had lots of fun, and those who fancied frozen puddings ate their +fill; the women were usually cold, and the only thing that was really +disagreeable was the want of hot water to shave with: in short, he +recounted such absurdities that an old quarter-master, who had had his +nose frozen off and was known by the name Nez-restant, laughed himself." + +"Hush," said Benassis, "here we are: I'll go first; follow me." + +The pair mounted the ladder and crouched in the hay, without being seen +or heard by the people below, and placed themselves at ease, so that +they could see and hear all that went on. The women were sitting in +groups round the three or four candles that stood on the tables. Some +were sewing, some knitting; several sat idle, their necks stretched out +and their heads and eyes turned to an old peasant who was telling a +story. Most of the men were standing, or lying on bales of hay. These +groups, all perfectly silent, were scarcely visible in the flickering +glimmer of the tallow-candles encircled by glass bowls full of water, +which concentrated the light in rays upon the women at work about the +tables. The size of the barn, whose roof was dark and sombre, still +further obscured the rays of light, which touched the heads with unequal +color, and brought out picturesque effects of light and shade. Here, the +brown forehead and the clear eyes of an eager little peasant-girl shone +forth; there, the rough brows of a few old men were sharply defined by a +luminous band, which made fantastic shapes of their worn and discolored +garments. These various listeners, so diverse in their attitudes, all +expressed on their motionless features the absolute abandonment of their +intelligence to the narrator. It was a curious picture, illustrating the +enormous influence exercised over every class of mind by poetry. In +exacting from a story-teller the marvelous that must still be simple, or +the impossible that is almost believable, the peasant proves himself to +be a true lover of the purest poetry. + +"Come, Monsieur Goguelat," said the game-keeper, "tell us about the +Emperor." + +"The evening is half over," said the postman, "and I don't like to +shorten the victories." + +"Never mind; go on! You've told them so many times we know them all by +heart; but it is always a pleasure to hear them again." + +"Yes! tell us about the Emperor," cried many voices together. + +"Since you wish it," replied Goguelat. "But you'll see it isn't worth +much when I have to tell it on the double-quick, charge! I'd rather tell +about a battle. Shall I tell about Champ-Aubert, where we used up all +the cartridges and spitted the enemy on our bayonets?" + +"No! no! the Emperor! the Emperor!" + +The veteran rose from his bale of hay and cast upon the assemblage that +black look laden with miseries, emergencies, and sufferings, which +distinguishes the faces of old soldiers. He seized his jacket by the two +front flaps, raised them as if about to pack the knapsack which formerly +held his clothes, his shoes, and all his fortune; then he threw the +weight of his body on his left leg, advanced the right, and yielded with +a good grace to the demands of the company. After pushing his gray hair +to one side to show his forehead, he raised his head towards heaven that +he might, as it were, put himself on the level of the gigantic history +he was about to relate. + +"You see, my friends, Napoleon was born in Corsica, a French island, +warmed by the sun of Italy, where it is like a furnace, and where the +people kill each other, from father to son, all about nothing: that's a +way they have. To begin with the marvel of the thing,--his mother, who +was the handsomest woman of her time, and a knowing one, bethought +herself of dedicating him to God, so that he might escape the dangers of +his childhood and future life; for she had dreamed that the world was +set on fire the day he was born. And indeed it was a prophecy! So she +asked God to protect him, on condition that Napoleon should restore His +holy religion, which was then cast to the ground. Well, that was agreed +upon, and we shall see what came of it. + +"Follow me closely, and tell me if what you hear is in the nature of +man. + +"Sure and certain it is that none but a man who conceived the idea of +making a compact with God could have passed unhurt through the enemy's +lines, through cannon-balls, and discharges of grape-shot that swept the +rest of us off like flies, and always respected his head. I had a proof +of that--I myself--at Eylau. I see him now, as he rode up a height, took +his field glass, looked at the battle, and said, 'A11 goes well.' One of +those plumed busy-bodies, who plagued him considerably and followed him +everywhere, even to his meals, so they said, thought to play the wag, +and took the Emperor's place as he rode away. Ho! in a twinkling, head +and plume were off! You must understand that Napoleon had promised to +keep the secret of his compact all to himself. That's why all those who +followed him, even his nearest friends, fell like nuts,--Duroc, +Bessieres, Lannes,--all strong as steel bars, though _he_ could bend +them as he pleased. Besides,--to prove he was the child of God, and made +to be the father of soldiers,--was he ever known to be lieutenant or +captain? no, no; commander-in-chief from the start. He didn't look to be +more than twenty-four years of age when he was an old general at the +taking of Toulon, where he first began to show the others that they +knew nothing about manoeuvring cannon. + +"After that, down came our slip of a general to command the grand army +of Italy, which hadn't bread nor munitions, nor shoes, nor coats,--a +poor army, as naked as a worm. 'My friends,' said he, 'here we are +together. Get it into your pates that fifteen days from now you will be +conquerors,--new clothes, good gaiters, famous shoes, and every man with +a great-coat; but, my children, to get these things you must march to +Milan where they are.' And we marched. France, crushed as flat as a +bedbug, straightened up. We were thirty thousand barefeet against eighty +thousand Austrian bullies, all fine men, well set up. I see 'em now! But +Napoleon--he was then only Bonaparte--he knew how to put the courage +into us! We marched by night, and we marched by day; we slapped their +faces at Montenotte, we thrashed 'em at Rivoli, Lodi, Arcole, Millesimo, +and we never let 'em up. A soldier gets the taste of conquest. So +Napoleon whirled round those Austrian generals, who didn't know where to +poke themselves to get out of his way, and he pelted 'em well,--nipped +off ten thousand men at a blow sometimes, by getting round them with +fifteen hundred Frenchmen, and then he gleaned as he pleased. He took +their cannon, their supplies, their money, their munitions, in short, +all they had that was good to take. He fought them and beat them on the +mountains, he drove them into the rivers and seas, he bit 'em in the +air, he devoured 'em on the ground, and he lashed 'em everywhere. Hey! +the grand army feathered itself well; for, d'ye see, the Emperor, who +was also a wit, called up the inhabitants and told them he was there to +deliver them. So after that the natives lodged and cherished us; the +women too, and very judicious they were. Now here's the end of it. In +Ventose, '96,--in those times that was the month of March of to-day,--we +lay cuddled in a corner of Savoy with the marmots; and yet, before that +campaign was over, we were masters of Italy, just as Napoleon had +predicted; and by the following March--in a single year and two +campaigns--he had brought us within sight of Vienna. 'Twas a clean +sweep. We devoured their armies, one after the other, and made an end of +four Austrian generals. One old fellow, with white hair, was roasted +like a rat in the straw at Mantua. Kings begged for mercy on their +knees! Peace was won. + +"Could a _man_ have done that? No; God helped him, to a certainty! + +"He divided himself up like the loaves in the Gospel, commanded the +battle by day, planned it by night; going and coming, for the sentinels +saw him,--never eating, never sleeping. So, seeing these prodigies, the +soldiers adopted him for their father. Forward, march! Then those +others, the rulers in Paris, seeing this, said to themselves:--'Here's a +bold one that seems to get his orders from the skies; he's likely to put +his paw on France. We must let him loose on Asia; we will send him to +America, perhaps that will satisfy him.' But 'twas _written above_ for +him, as it was for Jesus Christ. The command went forth that he should +go to Egypt. See again his resemblance to the Son of God. But that's not +all. He called together his best veterans, his fire-eaters, the ones he +had particularly put the devil into, and he said to them like this:--'My +friends, they have given us Egypt to chew up, just to keep us busy, but +we'll swallow it whole in a couple of campaigns, as we did Italy. The +common soldiers shall be princes and have the land for their own. +Forward, march!' 'Forward, march!' cried the sergeants, and there we +were at Toulon, road to Egypt. At that time the English had all their +ships in the sea; but when we embarked Napoleon said, 'They won't see +us. It is just as well that you should know from this time forth that +your general has got his star in the sky, which guides and protects us.' +What was said was done. Passing over the sea, we took Malta like an +orange, just to quench his thirst for victory; for he was a man who +couldn't live and do nothing. + +"So here we are in Egypt. Good. Once here, other orders. The Egyptians, +d'ye see, are men who, ever since the earth was, have had giants for +sovereigns, and armies as numerous as ants; for, you must understand, +that's the land of genii and crocodiles, where they've built pyramids as +big as our mountains, and buried their kings under them to keep them +fresh,--an idea that pleased 'em mightily. So then, after we +disembarked, the Little Corporal said to us, 'My children, the country +you are going to conquer has a lot of gods that you must respect; +because Frenchmen ought to be friends with everybody, and fight the +nations without vexing the inhabitants. Get it into your skulls that you +are not to touch anything at first, for it is all going to be yours +soon. Forward, march!' So far, so good. But all those people of Africa, +to whom Napoleon was foretold under the name of Kebir-Bonaberdis,--a +word of their lingo that means 'the sultan fires,'--were afraid as the +devil of him. So the Grand Turk, and Asia, and Africa, had recourse to +magic. They sent us a demon, named the Mahdi, supposed to have descended +from heaven on a white horse, which, like its master, was bullet-proof; +and both of them lived on air, without food to support them. There are +some that say they saw them; but I can't give you any reasons to make +you certain about that. The rulers of Arabia and the Mamelukes tried to +make their troopers believe that the Mahdi could keep them from +perishing in battle; and they pretended he was an angel sent from heaven +to fight Napoleon and get back Solomon's seal. Solomon's seal was part +of their paraphernalia which they vowed our General had stolen. You must +understand that we'd given 'em a good many wry faces, in spite of what +he had said to us. + +"Now, tell me how they knew that Napoleon had a pact with God? Was that +natural, d'ye think? + +"They held to it in their minds that Napoleon commanded the genii, and +could pass hither and thither in the twinkling of an eye, like a bird. +The fact is, he was everywhere. At last, it came to his carrying off a +queen, beautiful as the dawn, for whom he had offered all his treasure, +and diamonds as big as pigeons' eggs,--a bargain which the Mameluke to +whom she particularly belonged positively refused, although he had +several others. Such matters, when they come to that pass, can't be +settled without a great many battles; and, indeed, there was no scarcity +of battles; there was fighting enough to please everybody. We were in +line at Alexandria, at Gizeh, and before the Pyramids; we marched in the +sun and through the sand, where some, who had the dazzles, saw water +that they couldn't drink, and shade where their flesh was roasted. But +we made short work of the Mamelukes; and everybody else yielded at the +voice of Napoleon, who took possession of Upper and Lower Egypt, Arabia, +and even the capitals of kingdoms that were no more, where there were +thousand of statues and all the plagues of Egypt, more particularly +lizards,--a mammoth of a country where everybody could take his acres of +land for as little as he pleased. Well, while Napoleon was busy with his +affairs inland,--where he had it in his head to do fine things,--the +English burned his fleet at Aboukir; for they were always looking about +them to annoy us. But Napoleon, who had the respect of the East and of +the West, whom the Pope called his son, and the cousin of Mohammed +called 'his dear father,' resolved to punish England, and get hold of +India in exchange for his fleet. He was just about to take us across the +Red Sea into Asia, a country where there are diamonds and gold to pay +the soldiers and palaces for bivouacs, when the Mahdi made a treaty with +the Plague, and sent it down to hinder our victories. Halt! The army to +a man defiled at that parade; and few there were who came back on their +feet. Dying soldiers couldn't take Saint-Jean d'Acre, though they rushed +at it three times with generous and martial obstinacy. The Plague was +the strongest. No saying to that enemy, 'My good friend.' Every soldier +lay ill. Napoleon alone was fresh as a rose, and the whole army saw him +drinking in pestilence without its doing him a bit of harm. + +"Ha! my friends! will you tell me that _that's_ in the nature of a mere +man? + +"The Mamelukes knowing we were all in the ambulances, thought they could +stop the way; but that sort of joke wouldn't do with Napoleon. So he +said to his demons, his veterans, those that had the toughest hide, 'Go, +clear me the way.' Junot, a sabre of the first cut, and his particular +friend, took a thousand men, no more, and ripped up the army of the +pacha who had had the presumption to put himself in the way. After that, +we came back to headquarters at Cairo. Now, here's another side of the +story. Napoleon absent, France was letting herself be ruined by the +rulers in Paris, who kept back the pay of the soldiers of the other +armies, and their clothing, and their rations; left them to die of +hunger, and expected them to lay down the law to the universe without +taking any trouble to help them. Idiots! who amused themselves by +chattering, instead of putting their own hands in the dough. Well, +that's how it happened that our armies were beaten, and the frontiers of +France were encroached upon: THE MAN was not there. Now observe, I say +_man_ because that's what they called him; but 'twas nonsense, for he +had a star and all its belongings; it was we who were only men. He +taught history to France after his famous battle of Aboukir, where, +without losing more than three hundred men, and with a single division, +he vanquished the grand army of the Turk, seventy-five thousand strong, +and hustled more than half of it into the sea, r-r-rah! + +"That was his last thunder-clap in Egypt. He said to himself, seeing +the way things were going in Paris, 'I am the savior of France. I know +it, and I must go.' But, understand me, the army didn't know he was +going, or they'd have kept him by force and made him Emperor of the +East. So now we were sad; for He was gone who was all our joy. He left +the command to Kleber, a big mastiff, who came off duty at Cairo, +assassinated by an Egyptian, whom they put to death by impaling him on a +bayonet; that's the way they guillotine people down there. But it makes +'em suffer so much that a soldier had pity on the criminal and gave him +his canteen; and then, as soon as the Egyptian had drunk his fill, he +gave up the ghost with all the pleasure in life. But that's a trifle we +couldn't laugh at then. Napoleon embarked in a cockleshell, a little +skiff that was nothing at all, though 'twas called 'Fortune'; and in a +twinkling, under the nose of England, who was blockading him with ships +of the line, frigates, and anything that could hoist a sail, he crossed +over, and there he was in France. For he always had the power, mind you, +of crossing the seas at one straddle. + +"Was that a human man? Bah! + +"So, one minute he is at Frejus, the next in Paris. There, they all +adore him; but he summons the government. 'What have you done with my +children, the soldiers?' he says to the lawyers. 'You're a mob of +rascally scribblers; you are making France a mess of pottage, and +snapping your fingers at what people think of you. It won't do; and I +speak the opinion of everybody.' So, on that, they wanted to battle with +him and kill him--click! he had 'em locked up in barracks, or flying out +of windows, or drafted among his followers, where they were as mute as +fishes, and as pliable as a quid of tobacco. After that stroke--consul! +And then, as it was not for him to doubt the Supreme Being, he fulfilled +his promise to the good God, who, you see, had kept His word to him. He +gave Him back his churches, and re-established His religion; the bells +rang for God and for him: and lo! everybody was pleased: _primo_, the +priests, whom he saved from being harassed; _secundo_, the bourgeois, +who thought only of their trade, and no longer had to fear the +_rapiamus_ of the law, which had got to be unjust; _tertio_, the nobles, +for he forbade they should be killed, as, unfortunately, the people had +got the habit of doing. + +"But he still had the Enemy to wipe out; and he wasn't the man to go to +sleep at a mess-table, because, d'ye see, his eye looked over the whole +earth as if it were no bigger than a man's head. So then he appeared in +Italy, like as though he had stuck his head through the window. One +glance was enough. The Austrians were swallowed up at Marengo like so +many gudgeons by a whale! Ouf! The French eagles sang their paeans so +loud that all the world heard them--and it sufficed! 'We won't play that +game any more,' said the German. 'Enough, enough!' said all the rest. + +"To sum up: Europe backed down, England knocked under. General peace; +and the kings and the people made believe kiss each other. That's the +time when the Emperor invented the Legion of Honor--and a fine thing, +too. 'In France'--this is what he said at Boulogne before the whole +army--'every man is brave. So the citizen who does a fine action shall +be sister to the soldier, and the soldier shall be his brother, and the +two shall be one under the flag of honor.' + +"We, who were down in Egypt, now came home. All was changed! He left us +general, and hey! in a twinkling we found him EMPEROR. France gave +herself to him, like a fine girl to a lancer. When it was done--to the +satisfaction of all, as you may say--a sacred ceremony took place, the +like of which was never seen under the canopy of the skies. The Pope and +the cardinals, in their red and gold vestments, crossed the Alps +expressly to crown him before the army and the people, who clapped their +hands. There is one thing that I should do very wrong not to tell you. +In Egypt, in the desert close to Syria, the RED MAN came to him on the +Mount of Moses, and said, 'All is well.' Then, at Marengo, the night +before the victory, the same Red Man appeared before him for the second +time, standing erect and saying, 'Thou shalt see the world at thy feet; +thou shalt be Emperor of France, King of Italy, master of Holland, +sovereign of Spain, Portugal, and the Illyrian provinces, protector of +Germany, savior of Poland, first eagle of the Legion of Honor--all.' +This Red Man, you understand, was his genius, his spirit,--a sort of +satellite who served him, as some say, to communicate with his star. I +never really believed that. But the Red Man himself is a true fact. +Napoleon spoke of him, and said he came to him in troubled moments, and +lived in the palace of the Tuileries under the roof. So, on the day of +the coronation, Napoleon saw him for the third time; and they were in +consultation over many things. + +"After that, Napoleon went to Milan to be crowned king of Italy, and +there the grand triumph of the soldier began. Every man who could write +was made an officer. Down came pensions; it rained duchies; treasures +poured in for the staff which didn't cost France a penny; and the Legion +of Honor provided incomes for the private soldiers,--of which I receive +mine to this day. So here were the armies maintained as never before on +this earth. But besides that, the Emperor, knowing that he was to be the +emperor of the whole world, bethought him of the bourgeois, and to +please them he built fairy monuments, after their own ideas, in places +where you'd never think to find any. For instance, suppose you were +coming back from Spain and going to Berlin--well, you'd find triumphal +arches along the way, with common soldiers sculptured on the stone, +every bit the same as generals. In two or three years, and without +imposing taxes on any of you, Napoleon filled his vaults with gold, +built palaces, made bridges, roads, scholars, fetes, laws, vessels, +harbors, and spent millions upon millions,--such enormous sums that he +could, so they tell me, have paved France from end to end with +five-franc pieces, if he had had a mind to. + +"Now, when he sat at ease on his throne, and was master of all, so that +Europe waited his permission to do his bidding, he remembered his four +brothers and his three sisters, and he said to us, as it might be in +conversation, in an order of the day, 'My children, is it right that the +blood relations of your Emperor should be begging their bread? No. I +wish to see them in splendor like myself. It becomes, therefore, +absolutely necessary to conquer a kingdom for each of them,--to the end +that Frenchmen may be masters over all lands, that the soldiers of the +Guard shall make the whole earth tremble, that France may spit where she +likes, and that all the nations shall say to her, as it is written on my +copper coins, '_God protects you_!' 'Agreed,' cried the army. 'We'll go +fish for thy kingdoms with our bayonets.' Ha! there was no backing down, +don't you see! If he had taken it into his head to conquer the moon, we +should have made ready, packed knapsacks, and clambered up; happily, he +didn't think of it. The kings of the countries, who liked their +comfortable thrones, were naturally loathe to budge, and had to have +their ears pulled; so then--Forward, march! We did march; we got there; +and the earth once more trembled to its centre. Hey! the men and the +shoes he used up in those days! The enemy dealt us such blows that none +but the grand army could have stood the fatigue of it. But you are not +ignorant that a Frenchman is born a philosopher, and knows that a little +sooner, or a little later, he has got to die. So we were ready to die +without a word, for we liked to see the Emperor doing _that_ on the +geographies." + +Here the narrator nimbly described a circle with his foot on the floor +of the barn. + +"And Napoleon said, 'There, that's to be a kingdom.' And a kingdom it +was. Ha! the good times! The colonels were generals; the generals, +marshals; and the marshals, kings. There's one of 'em still on his +throne, to prove it to Europe; but he's a Gascon and a traitor to France +for keeping that crown; and he doesn't blush for shame as he ought to +do, because crowns, don't you see, are made of gold. I who am speaking +to you, I have seen, in Paris, eleven kings and a mob of princes +surrounding Napoleon like the rays of the sun. You understand, of +course, that every soldier had the chance to mount a throne, provided +always he had the merit; so a corporal of the Guard was a sight to be +looked at as he walked along, for each man had his share in the victory, +and 'twas plainly set forth in the bulletin. What victories they were! +Austerlitz, where the army manoeuvred as if on parade; Eylau, where we +drowned the Russians in a lake, as though Napoleon had blown them into +it with the breath of his mouth; Wagram, where the army fought for three +days without grumbling. We won as many battles as there are saints in +the calendar. It was proved then beyond a doubt, that Napoleon had the +sword of God in his scabbard. The soldiers were his friends; he made +them his children; he looked after us; he saw that we had shoes, and +shirts, and great-coats, and bread, and cartridges; but he always kept +up his majesty; for, don't you see, 'twas his business to reign. No +matter for that, however; a sergeant, and even a common soldier could +say to him, 'My Emperor,' just as you say to me sometimes, 'My good +friend.' He gave us an answer if we appealed to him; he slept in the +snow like the rest of us; and indeed, he had almost the air of a human +man. I who speak to you, I have seen him with his feet among the +grapeshot, and no more uneasy than you are now,--standing steady, +looking through his field glass, and minding his business. 'Twas that +kept the rest of us quiet. I don't know how he did it, but when he spoke +he made our hearts burn within us; and to show him we were his children, +incapable of balking, didn't we rush at the mouths of the rascally +cannon, that belched and vomited shot and shell without so much as +saying, 'Look out!' Why! the dying must needs raise their heads to +salute him and cry, 'LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!' + +"I ask you, was that natural? would they have done that for a human man? + +"Well, after he had settled the world, the Empress Josephine, his wife, +a good woman all the same, managed matters so that she did not bear him +any children, and he was obliged to give her up, though he loved her +considerably. But, you see, he had to have little ones for reasons of +state. Hearing of this, all the sovereigns of Europe quarreled as to +which of them should give him a wife. And he married, so they told us, +an Austrian archduchess, daughter of Caesar, an ancient man about whom +people talk a good deal, and not in France only,--where any one will +tell you what he did,--but in Europe. It is all true, for I myself who +address you at this moment, I have been on the Danube, and have seen the +remains of a bridge built by that man, who, it seems, was a relation of +Napoleon in Rome, and that's how the Emperor got the inheritance of that +city for his son. So after the marriage, which was a fete for the whole +world, and in honor of which he released the people of ten years' +taxes,--which they had to pay all the same, however, because the +assessors didn't take account of what he said,--his wife had a little +one, who was King of Rome. Now, there's a thing that had never been seen +on this earth; never before was a child born a king with his father +living. On that day a balloon went up in Paris to tell the news to Rome, +and that balloon made the journey in one day! + +"Now, is there any man among you who will stand up and declare to me +that all that was human? No; it was _written above;_ and may the scurvy +seize them who deny that he was sent by God himself for the triumph +of France! + +"Well, here's the Emperor of Russia, that used to be his friend, he gets +angry because Napoleon didn't marry a Russian; so he joins with the +English, our enemies,--to whom our Emperor always wanted to say a couple +of words in their burrows, only he was prevented. Napoleon gets angry +too; an end had to be put to such doings; so he says to us:--'Soldiers! +you have been masters of every capital in Europe, except Moscow, which +is now the ally of England. To conquer England, and India which belongs +to the English, it becomes our peremptory duty to go to Moscow.' Then he +assembled the greatest army that ever trailed its gaiters over the +globe; and so marvelously in hand it was that he reviewed a million of +men in one day. 'Hourra! cried the Russians. Down came all Russia and +those animals of Cossacks in a flock. 'Twas nation against nation, a +general hurly-burly, and beware who could; 'Asia against Europe,' as the +Red Man had foretold to Napoleon. 'Enough,' cried the Emperor, 'I'll +be ready.' + +"So now, sure enough, came all the kings, as the Red Man had said, to +lick Napoleon's hand! Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Poland, Italy, +every one of them were with us, flattering us; ah, it was fine! The +eagles never cawed so loud as at those parades, perched high above the +banners of all Europe. The Poles were bursting with joy, because +Napoleon was going to release them; and that's why France and Poland are +brothers to this day. 'Russia is ours,' cried the army. We plunged into +it well supplied; we marched and we marched,--no Russians. At last we +found the brutes entrenched on the banks of the Moskova. That's where I +won my cross, and I've got the right to say it was a damnable battle. +This was how it came about. The Emperor was anxious. He had seen the Red +Man, who said to him, 'My son, you are going too fast for your feet; you +will lack men; friends will betray you.' So the Emperor offered peace. +But before signing, 'Let us drub those Russians!' he said to us. 'Done!' +cried the army. 'Forward, march!' said the sergeants. My clothes were in +rags, my shoes worn out, from trudging along those roads, which are very +uncomfortable ones; but no matter! I said to myself, 'As it's the last +of our earthquakings, I'll go into it, tooth and nail!' We were drawn up +in line before the great ravine,--front seats, as 'twere. Signal given; +and seven hundred pieces of artillery began a conversation that would +bring the blood from your ears. Then--must do justice to one's +enemies--the Russians let themselves be killed like Frenchmen; they +wouldn't give way; we couldn't advance. 'Forward,' some one cried, 'here +comes the Emperor!' True enough; he passed at a gallop, waving his hand +to let us know we must take the redoubt. He inspired us; on we ran, I +was the first in the ravine. Ha! my God! how the lieutenants fell, and +the colonels, and the soldiers! No matter! all the more shoes for those +that had none, and epaulets for the clever ones who knew how to read. +'Victory!' cried the whole line; 'Victory!'--and, would you believe it? +a thing never seen before, there lay twenty-five thousand Frenchmen on +the ground. 'Twas like mowing down a wheat-field; only in place of the +ears of wheat put the heads of men! We were sobered by this time,--those +who were left alive. The MAN rode up; we made a circle round him. Ha! he +knew how to cajole his children; he could be amiable when he liked, and +feed 'em with words when their stomachs were ravenous with the hunger of +wolves. Flatterer! he distributed the crosses himself, he uncovered to +the dead, and then he cried to us, 'On! to Moscow!' 'To Moscow!' +answered the army. + +"We took Moscow. Would you believe it? the Russians burned their own +city! 'Twas a haystack six miles square, and it blazed for two days. The +buildings crashed like slates, and showers of melted iron and lead +rained down upon us, which was naturally horrible. I may say to you +plainly, it was like a flash of lightning on our disasters. The Emperor +said, 'We have done enough; my soldiers shall rest here.' So we rested +awhile, just to get the breath into our bodies and the flesh on our +bones, for we were really tired. We took possession of the golden cross +that was on the Kremlin; and every soldier brought away with him a small +fortune. But out there the winter sets in a month earlier,--a thing +those fools of science didn't properly explain. So, coming back, the +cold nipped us. No longer an army--do you hear me?--no longer any +generals, no longer any sergeants even. 'Twas the reign of wretchedness +and hunger,--a reign of equality at last. No one thought of anything but +to see France once more; no one stooped to pick up his gun or his money +if he dropped them; each man followed his nose, and went as he pleased +without caring for glory. The weather was so bad the Emperor couldn't +see his star; there was something between him and the skies. Poor man! +it made him ill to see his eagles flying away from victory. Ah! 'twas a +mortal blow, you may believe me. + +"Well, we got to the Beresina. My friends, I can affirm to you by all +that is most sacred, by my honor, that since mankind came into the +world, never, never, was there seen such a fricassee of an army--guns, +carriages, artillery wagons--in the midst of such snows, under such +relentless skies! The muzzles of the muskets burned our hands if we +touched them, the iron was so cold. It was there that the army was saved +by the pontoniers, who were firm at their post; and there that +Gondrin--sole survivor of the men who were bold enough to go into the +water and build the bridges by which the army crossed--that Gondrin, +here present, admirably conducted himself, and saved us from the +Russians, who, I must tell you, still respected the grand army, +remembering its victories. And," he added, pointing to Gondrin, who was +gazing at him with the peculiar attention of a deaf man, "Gondrin is a +finished soldier, a soldier who is honor itself, and he merits your +highest esteem." + +"I saw the Emperor," he resumed, "standing by the bridge, motionless, +not feeling the cold--was that human? He looked at the destruction of +his treasure, his friends, his old Egyptians. Bah! all that passed him, +women, army wagons, artillery, all were shattered, destroyed, ruined. +The bravest carried the eagles; for the eagles, d'ye see, were France, +the nation, all of you! they were the civil and the military honor that +must be kept pure; could their heads be lowered because of the cold? It +was only near the Emperor that we warmed ourselves, because when he was +in danger we ran, frozen as we were--we, who wouldn't have stretched a +hand to save a friend. They told us he wept at night over his poor +family of soldiers. Ah! none but he and Frenchmen could have got +themselves out of that business. + +"We did get out, but with losses, great losses, as I tell you. The +Allies captured our provisions. Men began to betray him, as the Red Man +predicted. Those chatterers in Paris, who had held their tongues after +the Imperial Guard was formed, now thought he was dead; so they +hoodwinked the prefect of police, and hatched a conspiracy to overthrow +the empire. He heard of it; it worried him. He left us, saying: 'Adieu, +my children; guard the outposts; I shall return to you.' Bah! without +him nothing went right; the generals lost their heads; the marshals +talked nonsense and committed follies; but that was not surprising, for +Napoleon, who was kind, had fed 'em on gold; they had got as fat as +lard, and wouldn't stir; some stayed in camp when they ought to have +been warming the backs of the enemy who was between us and France. + +"But the Emperor came back, and he brought recruits, famous recruits; +he changed their backbone and made 'em dogs of war, fit to set their +teeth into anything; and he brought a guard of honor, a fine body +indeed!--all bourgeois, who melted away like butter on a gridiron. + +"Well, spite of our stern bearing, here's everything going against us; +and yet the army did prodigies of valor. Then came battles on the +mountains, nations against nations,--Dresden, Lutzen, Bautzen. Remember +these days, all of you, for 'twas then that Frenchmen were so +particularly heroic that a good grenadier only lasted six months. We +triumphed always; yet there were those English, in our rear, rousing +revolts against us with their lies! No matter, we cut our way home +through the whole pack of the nations. Wherever the Emperor showed +himself we followed him; for if, by sea or land, he gave us the word +'Go!' we went. At last, we were in France; and many a poor foot-soldier +felt the air of his own country restore his soul to satisfaction, spite +of the wintry weather. I can say for myself that it refreshed my life. +Well, next, our business was to defend France, our country, our +beautiful France, against all Europe, which resented our having laid +down the law to the Russians, and pushed them back into their dens, so +that they couldn't eat us up alive, as northern nations, who are dainty +and like southern flesh, have a habit of doing,--at least, so I've heard +some generals say. Then the Emperor saw his own father-in-law, his +friends whom he had made kings, and the scoundrels to whom he had given +back their thrones, all against him. Even Frenchmen, and allies in our +own ranks, turned against us under secret orders, as at the battle of +Leipsic. Would common soldiers have been capable of such wickedness? +Three times a day men were false to their word,--and they called +themselves princes! + +"So, then, France was invaded. Wherever the Emperor showed his lion +face, the enemy retreated; and he did more prodigies in defending France +than ever he had done in conquering Italy, the East, Spain, Europe, and +Russia. He meant to bury every invader under the sod, and teach 'em to +respect the soil of France. So he let them get to Paris, that he might +swallow them at a mouthful, and rise to the height of his genius in a +battle greater than all the rest,--a mother-battle, as 'twere. But +there, there! the Parisians were afraid for their twopenny skins, and +their trumpery shops; they opened the gates. Then the Ragusades +began, and happiness ended. The Empress was fooled, and the white +banner flaunted from the windows. The generals whom he had made +his nearest friends abandoned him for the Bourbons,--a set of +people no one had heard tell of. The Emperor bade us farewell at +Fontainebleau:--'Soldiers!'--I can hear him now; we wept like children; +the flags and the eagles were lowered as if for a funeral: it was, I may +well say it to you, it was the funeral of the Empire; her dapper armies +were nothing now but skeletons. So he said to us, standing there on the +portico of his palace:--'My soldiers! we are vanquished by treachery; +but we shall meet in heaven, the country of the brave. Defend my child, +whom I commit to you. Long live Napoleon II!' He meant to die, that no +man should look upon Napoleon vanquished; he took poison, enough to have +killed a regiment, because, like Jesus Christ before his Passion, he +thought himself abandoned of God and his talisman. But the poison did +not hurt him. + +"See again! he found he was immortal. + +"Sure of himself, knowing he must ever be THE EMPEROR, he went for a +while to an island to study out the nature of these others, who, you may +be sure, committed follies without end. Whilst he bided his time down +there, the Chinese, and the wild men on the coast of Africa, and the +Barbary States, and others who are not at all accommodating, knew so +well he was more than man that they respected his tent, saying to touch +it would be to offend God. Thus, d'ye see, when these others turned him +from the doors of his own France, he still reigned over the whole world. +Before long he embarked in the same little cockleshell of a boat he had +had in Egypt, sailed round the beard of the English, set foot in France, +and France acclaimed him. The sacred cuckoo flew from spire to spire; +all France cried out with one voice, 'LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!' In this +region, here, the enthusiasm for that wonder of the ages was, I may say, +solid. Dauphine behaved well; and I am particularly pleased to know that +her people wept when they saw, once more, the gray overcoat. March first +it was, when Napoleon landed with two hundred men to conquer that +kingdom of France and of Navarre, which on the twentieth of the same +month was again the French Empire. On that day our MAN was in Paris; he +had made a clean sweep, recovered his dear France, and gathered his +veterans together by saying no more than three words, 'I am here.' + +"'Twas the greatest miracle God had yet done! Before _him_, did ever +man recover an empire by showing his hat? And these others, who thought +they had subdued France! Not they! At sight of the eagles, a national +army sprang up, and we marched to Waterloo. There, the Guard died at one +blow. Napoleon, in despair, threw himself three times before the cannon +of the enemy without obtaining death. We saw that. The battle was lost. +That night the Emperor called his old soldiers to him; on the field +soaked with our blood he burned his banner and his eagles,--his poor +eagles, ever victorious, who cried 'Forward' in the battles, and had +flown the length and breadth of Europe, _they_ were saved the infamy of +belonging to the enemy: all the treasures of England couldn't get her a +tail-feather of them. No more eagles!--the rest is well known. The Red +Man went over to the Bourbons, like the scoundrel that he is. France is +crushed; the soldier is nothing; they deprive him of his dues; they +discharge him to make room for broken-down nobles--ah, 'tis pitiable! +They seized Napoleon by treachery; the English nailed him on a desert +island in mid-ocean on a rock raised ten thousand feet above the earth; +and there he is, and will be, till the Red Man gives him back his power +for the happiness of France. These others say he's dead. Ha, dead! 'Tis +easy to see they don't know Him. They tell that fib to catch the people, +and feel safe in their hovel of a government. Listen! the truth at the +bottom of it all is that his friends have left him alone on the desert +island to fulfil a prophecy, for I forgot to say that his name, +Napoleon, means 'lion of the desert.' Now this that I tell you is true +as the Gospel. All other tales that you hear about the Emperor are +follies without common-sense; because, d'ye see, God never gave to child +of woman born the right to stamp his name in red as _he_ did, on the +earth, which forever shall remember him! Long live Napoleon, the father +of his people and of the soldier!" + +"Long live General Eble!" cried the pontonier. + +"How happened it you were not killed in the ravine at Moskova?" asked a +peasant woman. + +"How do I know? We went in a regiment, we came out a hundred +foot-soldiers; none but the lines were capable of taking that redoubt: +the infantry, d'ye see, that's the real army." + +"And the cavalry! what of that?" cried Genastas, letting himself roll +from the top of the hay, and appearing to us with a suddenness which +made the bravest utter a cry of terror. "Eh! my old veteran, you forget +the red lancers of Poniatowski, the cuirassiers, the dragoons! they that +shook the earth when Napoleon, impatient that the victory was delayed, +said to Murat, 'Sire, cut them in two.' Ha, we were off! first at a +trot, then at a gallop, 'one, two,' and the enemy's line was cut in +halves like an apple with a knife. A charge of cavalry, my old hero! +why, 'tis a column of cannon balls!" + +"How about the pontoniers?" cried Gondrin. + +"My children," said Genastas, becoming suddenly quite ashamed of his +sortie when he saw himself in the midst of a silent and bewildered +group, "there are no spies here,--see, take this and drink to the Little +Corporal." + +"LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!" cried all the people present, with one voice. + +"Hush, my children!" said the officer, struggling to control his +emotion. "Hush! _he is dead_. He died saying, 'Glory, France, and +battle.' My friends, he had to die, he! but his memory--never!" + +Goguelat made a gesture of disbelief; then he said in a low voice to +those nearest, "The officer is still in the service, and he's told to +tell the people the Emperor is dead. We mustn't be angry with him, +because, d'ye see, a soldier has to obey orders." + +As Genestas left the barn he heard the Fosseuse say, "That officer is a +friend of the Emperor and of Monsieur Benassis." On that, all the people +rushed to the door to get another sight of him, and by the light of the +moon they saw the doctor take his arm. + +"I committed a great folly," said Genestas. "Let us get home quickly. +Those eagles--the cannon--the campaigns! I no longer knew where I was." + +"What do you think of my Goguelat?" asked Benassis. + +"Monsieur, so long as such tales are told, France will carry in her +entrails the fourteen armies of the Republic, and may at any time renew +the conversation of cannon with all Europe. That's my opinion." + + + + +GEORGE BANCROFT + +(1800-1891) + +BY AUSTIN SCOTT + + +The life of George Bancroft was nearly conterminous with the nineteenth +century. He was born at Worcester, Mass., October 3d, 1800, and died at +Washington, D.C., January 17th, 1891. But it was not merely the stretch +of his years that identified him with this century. In some respects he +represented his time as no other of its men. He came into touch with +many widely differing elements which made up its life and character. He +spent most of his life in cities, but never lost the sense for country +sights and sounds which central Massachusetts gave him in Worcester, his +birthplace, and in Northampton, where he taught school. The home into +which he was born offered him from his infancy a rich possession. His +father was a Unitarian clergyman who wrote a 'Life of Washington' that +was received with favor; thus things concerning God and country were his +patrimony. Not without significance was a word of his mother which he +recalled in his latest years, "My son, I do not wish you to become a +rich man, but I would have you be an affluent man: _ad fluo_, always a +little more coming in than going out." + +To the advantages of his boyhood home and of Harvard College, to which +he went as a lad of thirteen, the eager young student added the +opportunity, then uncommon, of a systematic course of study in German, +and won the degree of Doctor of Philosophy at Goettingen in 1820. He had +in a marked degree the characteristics of his countrymen, versatility +and adaptability. Giving up an early purpose of fitting himself for the +pulpit, he taught in Harvard, and helped to found a school of an +advanced type at Northampton. Meantime he published a volume of verse, +and found out that the passionate love of poetry which lasted through +his life was not creative. At Northampton he published in 1828 a +translation in two volumes of Heeren's 'History of the Political System +of Europe,' and also edited two editions of a Latin Reader; but the +duties of a schoolmaster's life were early thrown aside, and he could +not be persuaded to resume them later when the headship of an important +educational institution was offered to him. Together with the one great +pursuit of his life, to which he remained true for sixty years, he +delighted in the activities of a politician, the duties of a statesman, +and the occupations of a man of affairs and of the world. + +[Illustration: GEORGE BANCROFT.] + +Bancroft received a large but insufficient vote as the Democratic +candidate for the Governorship of Massachusetts, and for a time he held +the office of Collector of the port of Boston. As Secretary of the Navy +in the Cabinet of Polk, he rendered to his country two distinct services +of great value: he founded the Naval School at Annapolis, and by his +prompt orders to the American commander in the Pacific waters he secured +the acquisition of California for the United States. The special +abilities he displayed in the Cabinet were such, so Polk thought, as to +lead to his appointment as Minister to England in 1846. He was a +diplomat of no mean order. President Johnson appointed him Minister to +Germany in 1867, and Grant retained him at that post until 1874, as long +as Bancroft desired it. During his stay there he concluded just +naturalization treaties with Germany, and in a masterly way won from the +Emperor, William I., as arbitrator, judgment in favor of the United +States's claim over that of Great Britain in the Northwestern +boundary dispute. + +Always holding fast his one cherished object,--that of worthily writing +the history of the United States,--Bancroft did not deny himself the +pleasure of roaming in other fields. He wrote frequently on current +topics, on literary, historical, and political subjects. His eulogies of +Jackson and of Lincoln, pronounced before Congress, entitle him to the +rank of an orator. He was very fond of studies in metaphysics, and +Trendelenburg, the eminent German philosopher, said of him, "Bancroft +knows Kant through and through." + +His home--whether in Boston, or in New York where he spent the middle +portion of his life, or in Washington his abode for the last sixteen +years, or during his residence abroad--was the scene of the occupations +and delights which the highest culture craves. He was gladly welcomed to +the inner circle of the finest minds of Germany, and the tribute of the +German men of learning was unfeigned and universal when he quitted the +country in 1874. Many of the best men of England and of France were +among his warm friends. At his table were gathered from time to time +some of the world's greatest thinkers,--men of science, soldiers, +statesmen and men of affairs. Fond as he was of social joys, it was his +daily pleasure to mount his horse and alone, or with a single companion, +to ride where nature in her shy or in her exuberant mood inspired. One +day, after he was eighty years old, he rode on his young, blooded +Kentucky horse along the Virginia bank of the Potomac for more than +thirty-six miles. He could be seen every day among the perfect roses of +his garden at "Roseclyffe," his Newport summer-home, often full of +thought, at other times in wellnigh boisterous glee, always giving +unstinted care and expense to the queen of flowers. The books in which +he kept the record of the rose garden were almost as elaborate as those +in which were entered the facts and fancies out of which his History +grew. His home life was charming. By a careful use of opportunities and +of his means he became an "affluent" man. He was twice married: both +times a new source of refined domestic happiness long blessed his home, +and new means for enlarged comfort and hospitality were added to his +own. Two sons, children of his first wife, survived him. + +Some of Bancroft's characteristics were not unlike those of Jefferson. A +constant tendency to idealize called up in him at times a feeling +verging on impatience with the facts or the men that stood in the way of +a theory or the accomplishment of a personal desire. He had a keen +perception of an underlying or a final truth and professed warm love for +it, whether in the large range of history or in the nexus of current +politics: any one taking a different point of view at times was led to +think that his facts, as he stated them, lay crosswise, and might +therefore find the perspective out of drawing, but could not rightly +impugn his good faith. + +Although a genuine lover of his race and a believer in Democracy, he was +not always ready to put implicit trust in the individual as being +capable of exercising a wise judgment and the power of true +self-direction. For man he avowed a perfect respect; among men his +bearing showed now and then a trace of condescension. In controversies +over disputed points of history--and he had many such--he meant to be +fair and to anticipate the final verdict of truth, but overwhelming +evidence was necessary to convince him that his judgment, formed after +painstaking research, could be wrong. His ample love of justice, +however, is proved by his passionate appreciation of the character of +Washington, by his unswerving devotion to the conception of our national +unity, both in its historical development and at the moment when it was +imperiled by civil war, and by his hatred of slavery and of false +financial policies. He took pleasure in giving generously, but always +judiciously and without ostentation. On one occasion he, with a few of +his friends, paid off the debt from the house of an eminent scholar; on +another, he helped to rebuild for a great thinker the home which had +been burned. At Harvard, more than fifty years after his graduation, he +founded a traveling scholarship and named it in honor of the president +of his college days. + +As to the manner of his work, Bancroft laid large plans and gave to the +details of their execution unwearied zeal. The scope of the 'History of +the United States' as he planned it was admirable. In carrying it out he +was persistent in acquiring materials, sparing no pains in his research +at home and abroad, and no cost in securing original papers or exact +copies and transcripts from the archives of England and France, Spain +and Holland and Germany, from public libraries and from individuals; he +fished in all waters and drew fish of all sorts into his net. He took +great pains, and the secretaries whom he employed to aid him in his work +were instructed likewise to take great pains, not only to enter facts in +the reference books in their chronological order, but to make all +possible cross-references to related facts. The books of his library, +which was large and rich in treasures, he used as tools, and many of +them were filled with cross references. In the fly-leaves of the books +he read he made note with a word and the cited page of what the printed +pages contained of interest to him or of value in his work. + +His mind was one of quick perceptions within a wide range, and always +alert to grasp an idea in its manifold relations. It is remarkable, +therefore, that he was very laborious in his method of work. He often +struggled long with a thought for intellectual mastery. In giving it +expression, his habit was to dictate rapidly and with enthusiasm and at +great length, but he usually selected the final form after repeated +efforts. His first draft of a chapter was revised again and again and +condensed. One of his early volumes in its first manuscript form was +eight times as long as when finally published. He had another striking +habit, that of writing by topics rather than in strict chronological +order, so that a chapter which was to find its place late in the volume +was often completed before one which was to precede it. Partly by nature +and perhaps partly by this practice, he had the power to carry on +simultaneously several trains of thought. When preparing one of his +public orations, it was remarked by one of his household that after an +evening spent over a trifling game of bezique, the next morning found +him well advanced beyond the point where the work had been seemingly +laid down. He had the faculty of buoying a thought, knowing just where +to take it up after an interruption and deftly splicing it in continuous +line, sometimes after a long interval. When about to begin the +preparation of the argument which was to sustain triumphantly the claim +of the United States in the boundary question, he wrote from Berlin for +copies of documents filed in the office of the Navy Department, which he +remembered were there five-and-twenty years before. + +The 'History of the United States from the Discovery of America to the +Inauguration of Washington' is treated by Bancroft in three parts. The +first, Colonial History from 1492 to 1748, occupies more than one fourth +of his pages. The second part, the American Revolution, 1748 to 1782, +claims more than one half of the entire work, and is divided into four +epochs:--the first, 1748-1763, is entitled 'The Overthrow of the +European Colonial System'; the second, 1763-1774, 'How Great Britain +Estranged America'; the third, 1774-1776, 'America Declares Itself +Independent'; the fourth, 1776-1782, 'The Independence of America is +Acknowledged.' The last part, 'The History of the Formation of the +Constitution,' 1782-1789, though published as a separate work, is +essentially a continuation of the History proper, of which it forms in +bulk rather more than one tenth. + +If his services as a historian are to be judged by any one portion of +his work rather than by another, the history of the formation of the +Constitution affords the best test. In that the preceding work comes to +fruition; the time of its writing, after the Civil War and the +consequent settling of the one vexing question by the abolition of +sectionalism, and when he was in the fullness of the experience of his +own ripe years, was most opportune. Bancroft was equal to his +opportunity. He does not teach us that the Constitution is the result of +superhuman wisdom, nor on the other hand does he admit, as John Adams +asserted, that however excellent, the Constitution was wrung "from the +grinding necessity of a reluctant people." He does not fail to point out +the critical nature of the four years prior to the meeting of the +Federal Convention; but he discerns that whatever occasions, whether +transitory or for the time of "steady and commanding influence," may +help or hinder the formation of the now perfect union, its true cause +was "an indwelling necessity" in the people to "form above the States a +common constitution for the whole." + +Recognizing the fact that the primary cause for the true union was +remote in origin and deep and persistent, Bancroft gives a retrospect of +the steps toward union from the founding of the colonies to the close of +the war for independence. Thenceforward, suggestions as to method or +form of amending the Articles of Confederation, whether made by +individuals, or State Legislatures, or by Congress, were in his view +helps indeed to promote the movement; but they were first of all so many +proofs that despite all the contrary wayward surface indications, the +strong current was flowing independently toward the just and perfect +union. Having acknowledged this fundamental fact of the critical years +between Yorktown and the Constitution, the historian is free to give +just and discriminating praise to all who shared at that time in +redeeming the political hope of mankind, to give due but not exclusive +honor to Washington and Thomas Paine, to Madison and Hamilton and their +co-worthies. + +The many attempts, isolated or systematic, during the period from +1781-1786, to reform the Articles of Confederation, were happily futile; +but they were essential in the training of the people in the +consciousness of the nature of the work for which they are responsible. +The balances must come slowly to a poise. Not merely union strong and +for a time effective, was needed, but union of a certain and +unprecedented sort: one in which the true pledge of permanency for a +continental republic was to be found in the federative principle, by +which the highest activities of nation and of State were conditioned +each by the welfare of the other. The people rightly felt, too, that a +Congress of one house would be inadequate and dangerous. They waited in +the midst of risks for the proper hour, and then, not reluctantly but +resolutely, adopted the Constitution as a promising experiment in +government. + +Bancroft's treatment of the evolution of the second great organic act of +this time--the Northwestern ordinance--is no less just and true to the +facts. For two generations men had snatched at the laurels due to the +creator of that matchless piece of legislation; to award them now to +Jefferson, now to Nathan Dane, now to Rufus King, now to Manasseh +Cutler. Bancroft calmly and clearly shows how the great law grew with +the kindly aid and watchful care of these men and of others. + +The deliberations of the Federal Constitution are adequately recorded; +and he gives fair relative recognition to the work and words of +individuals, and the actions of State delegations in making the great +adjustments between nation and States, between large and small and slave +and free States. From his account we infer that the New Jersey plan was +intended by its authors only for temporary use in securing equality for +the States in one essential part of the government, while the men from +Connecticut receive credit for the compromise which reconciled +nationality with true State rights. Further to be noticed are the +results of the exhaustive study which Bancroft gave to the matter of +paper money, and to the meaning of the clause prohibiting the States +from impairing the obligation of contracts. He devotes nearly one +hundred pages to 'The People of the States in Judgment on the +Constitution,' and rightly; for it is the final act of the separate +States, and by it their individual wills are merged in the will of the +people, which is one, though still politically distributed and active +within State lines. His summary of the main principles of the +Constitution is excellent; and he concludes with a worthy sketch of the +organization of the first Congress under the Constitution, and of the +inauguration of Washington as President. + +In this last portion of the 'History,' while all of his merits as a +historian are not conspicuous, neither are some of his chief defects. +Here the tendency to philosophize, to marshal stately sentences, and to +be discursive, is not so marked. + +The first volume of Bancroft's 'History of the United States' was +published in 1834, when the democratic spirit was finding its first full +expression under Jackson, and when John Marshall was finishing his +mighty task of revealing to the people of the United States the strength +that lay in their organic law. As he put forth volume after volume at +irregular intervals for fifty years, he in a measure continued this work +of bringing to the exultant consciousness of the people the value of +their possession of a continent of liberty and the realization of their +responsibility. In the course of another generation, portions of this +'History of the United States' may begin to grow antiquated, though the +most brilliant of contemporary journalists quite recently placed it +among the ten books indispensable to every American; but time cannot +take away Bancroft's good part in producing influences, which, however +they may vary in form and force, will last throughout the nation's life. + +[Illustration: Signature: Austin Scott] + + +THE BEGINNINGS OF VIRGINIA + +From 'History of the United States' + +The period of success in planting Virginia had arrived; yet not till +changes in European politics and society had molded the forms of +colonization. The Reformation had broken the harmony of religious +opinion; and differences in the Church began to constitute the basis of +political parties. After the East Indies had been reached by doubling +the southern promontory of Africa, the great commerce of the world was +carried upon the ocean. The art of printing had been perfected and +diffused; and the press spread intelligence and multiplied the +facilities of instruction. The feudal institutions, which had been +reared in the middle ages, were already undermined by the current of +time and events, and, swaying from their base, threatened to fall. +Productive industry had built up the fortunes and extended the influence +of the active classes; while habits of indolence and expense had +impaired the estates and diminished the power of the nobility. These +changes produced corresponding results in the institutions which were to +rise in America. + +A revolution had equally occurred in the purposes for which voyages were +undertaken. The hope of Columbus, as he sailed to the west, had been +the discovery of a new passage to the East Indies. The passion for gold +next became the prevailing motive. Then the islands and countries near +the equator were made the tropical gardens of the Europeans. At last, +the higher design was matured: to plant permanent Christian colonies; to +establish for the oppressed and the enterprising places of refuge and +abode; to found states in a temperate clime, with all the elements of +independent existence. + +In the imperfect condition of industry, a redundant population had +existed in England even before the peace with Spain, which threw out of +employment the gallant men who had served under Elizabeth by sea and +land, and left them no option but to engage as mercenaries in the +quarrels of strangers, or incur the hazards of "seeking a New World." +The minds of many persons of intelligence and rank were directed to +Virginia. The brave and ingenious Gosnold, who had himself witnessed the +fertility of the western soil, long solicited the concurrence of his +friends for the establishment of a colony, and at last prevailed with +Edward Maria Wingfield, a merchant of the west of England, Robert Hunt, +a clergyman of fortitude and modest worth, and John Smith, an adventurer +of rarest qualities, to risk their lives and hopes of fortune in an +expedition. For more than a year this little company revolved the +project of a plantation. At the same time Sir Ferdinando Gorges was +gathering information of the native Americans, whom he had received from +Waymouth, and whose descriptions of the country, joined to the favorable +views which he had already imbibed, filled him with the strongest desire +of becoming a proprietary of domains beyond the Atlantic. Gorges was a +man of wealth, rank and influence; he readily persuaded Sir John Popham, +Lord Chief Justice of England, to share his intentions. Nor had the +assigns of Raleigh become indifferent to "western planting"; which the +most distinguished of them all, "industrious Hakluyt," the historian of +maritime enterprise, still promoted by his personal exertions, his +weight of character, and his invincible zeal. Possessed of whatever +information could be derived from foreign sources and a correspondence +with eminent navigators of his times, and anxiously watching the +progress of Englishmen in the West, his extensive knowledge made him a +counselor in every colonial enterprise. + +The King of England, too timid to be active, yet too vain to be +indifferent, favored the design of enlarging his dominions. He had +attempted in Scotland the introduction of the arts of life among the +Highlanders and the Western Isles, by the establishment of colonies; and +the Scottish plantations which he founded in the northern counties of +Ireland contributed to the affluence and the security of that island. +When, therefore, a company of men of business and men of rank, formed by +the experience of Gosnold, the enthusiasm of Smith, the perseverance of +Hakluyt, the influence of Popham and Gorges, applied to James I. for +leave "to deduce a colony into Virginia," the monarch, on the tenth of +April, 1606, readily set his seal to an ample patent. + +The first colonial charter, under which the English were planted in +America, deserves careful consideration. + +Appleton and Company, New York. + + +MEN AND GOVERNMENT IN EARLY MASSACHUSETTS + +From 'History of the United States' + +These better auspices, and the invitations of Winthrop, won new +emigrants from Europe. During the long summer voyage of the two hundred +passengers who freighted the Griffin, three sermons a day beguiled their +weariness. Among them was Haynes, a man of very large estate, and larger +affections; of a "heavenly" mind, and a spotless life; of rare sagacity, +and accurate but unassuming judgment; by nature tolerant, ever a friend +to freedom, ever conciliating peace; an able legislator; dear to the +people by his benevolent virtues and his disinterested conduct. Then +also came the most revered spiritual teachers of two commonwealths: the +acute and subtle Cotton, the son of a Puritan lawyer; eminent in +Cambridge as a scholar; quick in the nice perception of distinctions, +and pliant in dialects; in manner persuasive rather than commanding; +skilled in the fathers and the schoolmen, but finding all their wisdom +compactly stored in Calvin; deeply devout by nature as well as habit +from childhood; hating heresy and still precipitately eager to prevent +evil actions by suppressing ill opinions, yet verging toward a progress +in truth and in religious freedom; an avowed enemy to democracy, which +he feared as the blind despotism of animal instincts in the multitude, +yet opposing hereditary power in all its forms; desiring a government of +moral opinion, according to the laws of universal equity, and claiming +"the ultimate resolution for the whole body of the people:" and Hooker, +of vast endowments, a strong will and an energetic mind; ingenuous in +his temper, and open in his professions; trained to benevolence by the +discipline of affliction; versed in tolerance by his refuge in Holland; +choleric, yet gentle in his affections; firm in his faith, yet readily +yielding to the power of reason; the peer of the reformers, without +their harshness; the devoted apostle to the humble and the poor, severe +toward the proud, mild in his soothings of a wounded spirit, glowing +with the raptures of devotion, and kindling with the messages of +redeeming love; his eye, voice, gesture, and whole frame animate with +the living vigor of heart-felt religion; public-spirited and lavishly +charitable; and, "though persecutions and banishments had awaited him as +one wave follows another," ever serenely blessed with "a glorious peace +of soul"; fixed in his trust in Providence, and in his adhesion to that +cause of advancing civilization, which he cherished always, even while +it remained to him a mystery. This was he whom, for his abilities and +services, his contemporaries placed "in the first rank" of men; praising +him as "the one rich pearl, with which Europe more than repaid America +for the treasures from her coast." The people to whom Hooker ministered +had preceded him; as he landed they crowded about him with their +welcome. "Now I live," exclaimed he, as with open arms he embraced them, +"now I live if ye stand fast in the Lord." + +Thus recruited, the little band in Massachusetts grew more jealous of +its liberties. "The prophets in exile see the true forms of the house." +By a common impulse, the freemen of the towns chose deputies to consider +in advance the duties of the general court. The charter plainly gave +legislative power to the whole body of the freemen; if it allowed +representatives, thought Winthrop, it was only by inference; and, as the +whole people could not always assemble, the chief power, it was argued, +lay necessarily with the assistants. + +Far different was the reasoning of the people. To check the democratic +tendency, Cotton, on the election day, preached to the assembled freemen +against rotation in office. The right of an honest magistrate to his +place was like that of a proprietor to his freehold. But the electors, +now between three and four hundred in number, were bent on exercising +"their absolute power," and, reversing the decision of the pulpit, chose +a new governor and deputy. The mode of taking the votes was at the same +time reformed; and, instead of the erection of hands, the ballot-box was +introduced. Thus "the people established a reformation of such things as +they judged to be amiss in the government." + +It was further decreed that the whole body of the freemen should be +convened only for the election of the magistrates: to these, with +deputies to be chosen by the several towns, the powers of legislation +and appointment were henceforward intrusted. The trading corporation was +unconsciously become a representative democracy. + +The law against arbitrary taxation followed. None but the immediate +representatives of the people might dispose of lands or raise money. +Thus early did Massachusetts echo the voice of Virginia, like deep +calling unto deep. The state was filled with the hum of village +politicians; "the freemen of every town in the Bay were busy in +inquiring into their liberties and privileges." With the exception of +the principle of universal suffrage, now so happily established, the +representative democracy was as perfect two centuries ago as it is +to-day. Even the magistrates, who acted as judges, held their office by +the annual popular choice. "Elections cannot be safe there long," said +the lawyer Lechford. The same prediction has been made these two hundred +years. The public mind, ever in perpetual agitation, is still easily +shaken, even by slight and transient impulses; but, after all +vibrations, it follows the laws of the moral world, and safely recovers +its balance. + +Appleton and Company, New York. + + +KING PHILIP'S WAR + +From 'History of the United States' + +Thus was Philip hurried into "his rebellion"; and he is reported to have +wept as he heard that a white man's blood had been shed. He had kept his +men about him in arms, and had welcomed every stranger; and yet, against +his judgment and his will, he was involved in war. For what prospect had +he of success? The English were united; the Indians had no alliance: the +English made a common cause; half the Indians were allies of the +English, or were quiet spectators of the fight: the English had guns +enough; but few of the Indians were well armed, and they could get no +new supplies: the English had towns for their shelter and safe retreat; +the miserable wigwams of the natives were defenseless: the English had +sure supplies of food; the Indians might easily lose their precarious +stores. Frenzy prompted their rising. They rose without hope, and they +fought without mercy. For them as a nation, there was no to-morrow. + +The minds of the English were appalled by the horrors of the impending +conflict, and superstition indulged in its wild inventions. At the time +of the eclipse of the moon, you might have seen the figure of an Indian +scalp imprinted on the centre of its disk. The perfect form of an Indian +bow appeared in the sky. The sighing of the wind was like the whistling +of bullets. Some heard invisible troops of horses gallop through the +air, while others found the prophecy of calamities in the howling of +the wolves. + +At the very beginning of danger the colonists exerted their wonted +energy. Volunteers from Massachusetts joined the troops from Plymouth; +and, within a week from the commencement of hostilities, the insulated +Pokanokets were driven from Mount Hope, and in less than a month Philip +was a fugitive among the Nipmucks, the interior tribes of Massachusetts. +The little army of the colonists then entered the territory of the +Narragansetts, and from the reluctant tribe extorted a treaty of +neutrality, with a promise to deliver up every hostile Indian. Victory +seemed promptly assured. But it was only the commencement of horrors. +Canonchet, the chief sachem of the Narragansetts, was the son of +Miantonomoh; and could he forget his father's wrongs? Desolation +extended along the whole frontier. Banished from his patrimony, where +the pilgrims found a friend, and from his cabin, which had sheltered the +exiles, Philip, with his warriors, spread through the country, awakening +their brethren to a warfare of extermination. + +The war, on the part of the Indians, was one of ambuscades and +surprises. They never once met the English in open field; but always, +even if eightfold in numbers, fled timorously before infantry. They were +secret as beasts of prey, skillful marksmen, and in part provided with +firearms, fleet of foot, conversant with all the paths of the forest, +patient of fatigue, and mad with a passion for rapine, vengeance, and +destruction, retreating into swamps for their fastnesses, or hiding in +the greenwood thickets, where the leaves muffled the eyes of the +pursuer. By the rapidity of their descent, they seemed omnipresent among +the scattered villages, which they ravished like a passing storm; and +for a full year they kept all New England in a state of terror and +excitement. The exploring party was waylaid and cut off, and the mangled +carcasses and disjointed limbs of the dead were hung upon the trees. The +laborer in the field, the reapers as they sallied forth to the harvest, +men as they went to mill, the shepherd's boy among the sheep, were shot +down by skulking foes, whose approach was invisible. Who can tell the +heavy hours of woman? The mother, if left alone in the house, feared the +tomahawk for herself and children; on the sudden attack, the husband +would fly with one child, the wife with another, and, perhaps, one only +escape; the village cavalcade, making its way to meeting on Sunday in +files on horseback, the farmer holding the bridle in one hand and a +child in the other, his wife seated on a pillion behind him, it may be +with a child in her lap, as was the fashion in those days, could not +proceed safely; but, at the moment when least expected, bullets would +whizz among them, sent from an unseen enemy by the wayside. The forest +that protected the ambush of the Indians secured their retreat. + +D. Appleton and Company, New York. + + +THE NEW NETHERLAND + +From 'History of the United States' + +During the absence of Stuyvesant from Manhattan, the warriors of the +neighboring Algonkin tribes, never reposing confidence in the Dutch, +made a desperate assault on the colony. In sixty-four canoes they +appeared before the town, and ravaged the adjacent country. The return +of the expedition restored confidence. The captives were ransomed, and +industry repaired its losses. The Dutch seemed to have firmly +established their power, and promised themselves happier years. New +Netherland consoled them for the loss of Brazil. They exulted in the +possession of an admirable territory, that needed no embankments against +the ocean. They were proud of its vast extent,--from New England to +Maryland, from the sea to the Great River of Canada, and the remote +Northwestern wilderness. They sounded with exultation the channel of the +deep stream, which was no longer shared with the Swedes; they counted +with delight its many lovely runs of water, on which the beavers built +their villages; and the great travelers who had visited every continent, +as they ascended the Delaware, declared it one of the noblest rivers in +the world, with banks more inviting than the lands on the Amazon. + +Meantime, the country near the Hudson gained by increasing emigration. +Manhattan was already the chosen abode of merchants; and the policy of +the government invited them by its good-will. If Stuyvesant sometimes +displayed the rash despotism of a soldier, he was sure to be reproved by +his employers. Did he change the rate of duties arbitrarily, the +directors, sensitive to commercial honor, charged him "to keep every +contract inviolate." Did he tamper with the currency by raising the +nominal value of foreign coin, the measure was rebuked as dishonest. Did +he attempt to fix the price of labor by arbitrary rules, this also was +condemned as unwise and impracticable. Did he interfere with the +merchants by inspecting their accounts, the deed was censured as without +precedent "in Christendom"; and he was ordered to "treat the merchants +with kindness, lest they return, and the country be depopulated." Did +his zeal for Calvinism lead him to persecute Lutherans, he was chid for +his bigotry. Did his hatred of "the abominable sect of Quakers" imprison +and afterward exile the blameless Bowne, "let every peaceful citizen," +wrote the directors, "enjoy freedom of conscience; this maxim has made +our city the asylum for fugitives from every land; tread in its steps, +and you shall be blessed." + +Private worship was therefore allowed to every religion. Opinion, if not +yet enfranchised, was already tolerated. The people of Palestine, from +the destruction of their temple an outcast and a wandering race, were +allured by the traffic and the condition of the New World; and not the +Saxon and Celtic races only, the children of the bondmen that broke from +slavery in Egypt, the posterity of those who had wandered in Arabia, and +worshiped near Calvary, found a home, liberty, and a burial place on the +island of Manhattan. + +The emigrants from Holland were themselves of the most various lineage; +for Holland had long been the gathering-place of the unfortunate. Could +we trace the descent of the emigrants from the Low Countries to New +Netherland, we should be carried not only to the banks of the Rhine and +the borders of the German Sea, but to the Protestants who escaped from +France after the massacre of Bartholomew's Eve, and to those earlier +inquirers who were swayed by the voice of Huss in the heart of Bohemia. +New York was always a city of the world. Its settlers were relics of the +first fruits of the Reformation, chosen from the Belgic provinces and +England, from France and Bohemia, from Germany and Switzerland, from +Piedmont and the Italian Alps. + +The religious sects, which, in the middle ages, had been fostered by the +municipal liberties of the south of France, were the harbingers of +modern freedom, and had therefore been sacrificed to the inexorable +feudalism of the north. After a bloody conflict, the plebeian reformers, +crushed by the merciless leaders of the military aristocracy, escaped to +the highlands that divide France and Italy. Preserving the discipline of +a benevolent, ascetic morality, with the simplicity of a +spiritual worship, + + "When all our fathers worshiped stocks and stones," + +it was found, on the progress of the Reformation, that they had by three +centuries anticipated Luther and Calvin. The hurricane of persecution, +which was to have swept Protestantism from the earth, did not spare +their seclusion; mothers with infants were rolled down the rocks, and +the bones of martyrs scattered on the Alpine mountains. The city of +Amsterdam offered the fugitive Waldenses a free passage to America, and +a welcome was prepared in New Netherland for the few who were willing +to emigrate. + +The persecuted of every creed and every clime were invited to the +colony. When the Protestant churches in Rochelle were razed, the +Calvinists of that city were gladly admitted; and the French Protestants +came in such numbers that the public documents were sometimes issued in +French as well as in Dutch and English. Troops of orphans were shipped +for the milder destinies of the New World; a free passage was offered to +mechanics; for "population was known to be the bulwark of every State." +The government of New Netherland had formed just ideas of the fit +materials for building a commonwealth; they desired "farmers and +laborers, foreigners and exiles, men inured to toil and penury." The +colony increased; children swarmed in every village; the advent of the +year and the month of May were welcomed with noisy frolics; new modes of +activity were devised; lumber was shipped to France; the whale pursued +off the coast; the vine, the mulberry, planted; flocks of sheep as well +as cattle were multiplied; and tile, so long imported from Holland, +began to be manufactured near Fort Orange. New Amsterdam could, in a few +years, boast of stately buildings, and almost vied with Boston. "This +happily situated province," said its inhabitants, "may become the +granary of our fatherland; should our Netherlands be wasted by grievous +wars, it will offer our countrymen a safe retreat; by God's blessing, we +shall in a few years become a mighty people." + +Thus did various nations of the Caucasian race assist in colonizing our +central states. + +D. Appleton and Company, New York. + + +FRANKLIN + +From 'History of the United States' + +Franklin looked quietly and deeply into the secrets of nature. His clear +understanding was never perverted by passion, nor corrupted by the pride +of theory. The son of a rigid Calvinist, the grandson of a tolerant +Quaker, he had from boyhood been familiar not only with theological +subtilities, but with a catholic respect for freedom of mind. Skeptical +of tradition as the basis of faith, he respected reason rather than +authority; and, after a momentary lapse into fatalism, he gained with +increasing years an increasing trust in the overruling providence of +God. Adhering to none of all the religions in the colonies, he yet +devoutly, though without form, adhered to religion. But though famous as +a disputant, and having a natural aptitude for metaphysics, he obeyed +the tendency of his age, and sought by observation to win an insight +into the mysteries of being. The best observers praise his method most. +He so sincerely loved truth, that in his pursuit of her she met him +half-way. Without prejudice and without bias, he discerned intuitively +the identity of the laws of nature with those of which humanity is +conscious; so that his mind was like a mirror, in which the universe, as +it reflected itself, revealed her laws. His morality, repudiating +ascetic severities and the system which enjoins them, was indulgent to +appetites of which he abhorred the sway; but his affections were of a +calm intensity: in all his career, the love of man held the mastery over +personal interest. He had not the imagination which inspires the bard or +kindles the orator; but an exquisite propriety, parsimonious of +ornament, gave ease, correctness, and graceful simplicity even to his +most careless writings. In life, also, his tastes were delicate. +Indifferent to the pleasures of the table, he relished the delights of +music and harmony, of which he enlarged the instruments. His blandness +of temper, his modesty, the benignity of his manners, made him the +favorite of intelligent society; and, with healthy cheerfulness, he +derived pleasure from books, from philosophy, from conversation,--now +administering consolation to the sorrower, now indulging in +light-hearted gayety. In his intercourse, the universality of his +perceptions bore, perhaps, the character of humor; but, while he clearly +discerned the contrast between the grandeur of the universe and the +feebleness of man, a serene benevolence saved him from contempt of his +race or disgust at its toils. To superficial observers, he might have +seemed as an alien from speculative truth, limiting himself to the world +of the senses; and yet, in study, and among men, his mind always sought +to discover and apply the general principles by which nature and affairs +are controlled,--now deducing from the theory of caloric improvements in +fireplaces and lanterns, and now advancing human freedom by firm +inductions from the inalienable rights of man. Never professing +enthusiasm, never making a parade of sentiment, his practical wisdom was +sometimes mistaken for the offspring of selfish prudence; yet his hope +was steadfast, like that hope which rests on the Rock of Ages, and his +conduct was as unerring as though the light that led him was a light +from heaven. He never anticipated action by theories of self-sacrificing +virtue; and yet, in the moments of intense activity, he from the abodes +of ideal truth brought down and applied to the affairs of life the +principles of goodness, as unostentatiously as became the man who with a +kite and hempen string drew lightning from the skies. He separated +himself so little from his age that he has been called the +representative of materialism; and yet, when he thought on religion, his +mind passed beyond reliance on sects to faith in God; when he wrote on +politics, he founded freedom on principles that know no change; when he +turned an observing eye on nature, he passed from the effect to the +cause, from individual appearances to universal laws; when he reflected +on history, his philosophic mind found gladness and repose in the clear +anticipation of the progress of humanity. + + +End of Volume III. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Library Of The World's Best +Literature, Ancient And Modern, Vol 3, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIBRARY OF THE WORLD'S BEST *** + +***** This file should be named 13028.txt or 13028.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/0/2/13028/ + +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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