diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29145-8.txt | 8634 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29145-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 177722 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29145-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 355686 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29145-h/29145-h.htm | 9126 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29145-h/images/image_01.jpg | bin | 0 -> 86530 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29145-h/images/image_02.jpg | bin | 0 -> 60535 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29145-h/images/image_03.jpg | bin | 0 -> 19480 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29145.txt | 8634 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 29145.zip | bin | 0 -> 177624 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
12 files changed, 26410 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29145-8.txt b/29145-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a553386 --- /dev/null +++ b/29145-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8634 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Best of the World's Classics, +Restricted to Prose, Vol. X (of X) - America - II, Index, 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: The Best of the World's Classics, Restricted to Prose, Vol. X (of X) - America - II, Index + +Author: Various + +Editor: Henry Cabot Lodge + Francis W. Halsey + +Release Date: June 17, 2009 [EBook #29145] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST OF THE WORLD'S CLASSICS *** + + + + +Produced by Joseph R. Hauser, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + [Illustration: POE, LOWELL, LONGFELLOW, PARKMAN] + + + + THE BEST + + _of the_ + + WORLD'S CLASSICS + + RESTRICTED TO PROSE + + + + HENRY CABOT LODGE + + _Editor-in-Chief_ + + + FRANCIS W. HALSEY + + _Associate Editor_ + + + + With an Introduction, Biographical and + Explanatory Notes, etc. + + + IN TEN VOLUMES + + + Vol. X + + AMERICA--II + + INDEX + + + + + FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY + + NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY + + FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY + + * * * * * + + + + +The Best of the World's Classics + +VOL. X + +AMERICA--II + +1807-1909 + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +VOL. X--AMERICA--II + + + _Page_ +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW--(Born in 1807, died in 1882.) + Musings in Père Lachaise. + (From "Outre-Mer") 3 + +EDGAR ALLAN POE--(Born in 1809, died in 1849.) + I The Cask of Amontillado. + (Published originally in _Godey's Magazine_ in 1846) 11 + II Of Hawthorne and the Short Story. + (From a review of Hawthorne's "Twice Told Tales" + and "Mosses from an Old Manse" published + in _Godey's Magazine_ in 1846) 19 + III Of Willis, Bryant, Halleck and Macaulay. + (Passages selected from articles printed in + Volume II of the "Works of Poe") 25 + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES--(Born in 1809, died in 1894.) + I Of Doctors, Lawyers and Ministers. + (From Chapter V of "The Poet at the Breakfast Table") 31 + II Of the Genius of Emerson. + (From an address before the Massachusetts Historical + Society in 1882) 36 + III The House in Which the Professor Lived. + (From Part X of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast + Table") 42 + IV Of Women Who Put on Airs. + (From Part XI of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast + Table") 49 + +MARGARET FULLER--(Born in 1810, lost in a shipwreck off + Fire Island in 1850.) + I Her Visit to George Sand. + (From a letter to Elizabeth Hoar) 52 + II Two Glimpses of Carlyle. + (From a letter to Emerson) 54 + +HORACE GREELEY--(Born in 1811, died in 1872.) + The Fatality of Self-Seeking in Editors and Authors. + (Printed with the "Miscellanies" in the "Recollections + of a Busy Life") 58 + +JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY--(Born in 1814, died in 1877.) + I Charles V and Philip II in Brussels. + (From Chapter I of "The Rise of the Dutch Republic") 63 + II The Arrival of the Spanish Armada. + (From Chapter XIX of the "History of the United + Netherlands") 74 + III "The Spanish Fury." + (From Part IV, Chapter V, of + "The Rise of the Dutch Republic") 84 + +RICHARD HENRY DANA, THE YOUNGER--(Born in 1815, died in 1882.) + A Fierce Gale under a Clear Sky. + (From "Two Years Before the Mast") 93 + +HENRY DAVID THOREAU--(Born in 1817, died in 1862.) + I The Building of His House at Walden Pond. + (From Chapter I of "Walden, or, Life in the Woods") 99 + II How to Make Two Small Ends Meet. + (From Chapters I and II of "Walden") 103 + III On Reading the Ancient Classics. + (From Chapter III of "Walden") 115 + IV Of Society and Solitude. + (From Chapter IV of "Walden") 120 + +JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL--(Born in 1819, died in 1891.) + I The Poet as Prophet. + (From an essay contributed to _The Pioneer_ in 1843) 125 + II The First of the Moderns. + (From the first essay in the first series, entitled + "Among My Books") 129 + III Of Faults Found in Shakespeare. + (From the essay entitled "Shakespeare Once More," + printed in the first series entitled "Among My Books") 133 + IV Americans as Successors of the Dutch. + (From the essay entitled "On a Certain Condescension + in Foreigners," printed in "From My Study Window") 138 + +CHARLES A. DANA--(Born in 1819, died in 1897.) + Greeley as a Man of Genius. + (From an article printed in the New York _Sun_, + December 5, 1872) 146 + +JAMES PARTON--(Born in 1822, died in 1891.) + Aaron Burr and Madame Jumel. + (From his "Life of Burr") 150 + +FRANCIS PARKMAN--(Born in 1823, died in 1893.) + I Champlain's Battle with the Iroquois. + (From Chapter X of "The Pioneers of France + in the New World") 157 + II The Death of La Salle. + (From Chapter XXV of "La Salle and the Discovery + of the Great West") 161 + III The Coming of Frontenac to Canada. + (From Chapters I and II of "Count Frontenac and + New France") 167 + IV The Death of Isaac Jogues. + (From Chapters XVI and XX of "The Jesuits in + North America") 171 + V Why New France Failed. + (From the Introduction to "The Pioneers of France + in the New World") 176 + VI The Return of the Coureurs-de-Bois. + (From Chapter XVIII of "The Old Régime in Canada") 179 + +GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS--(Born in 1824, died in 1892.) + Our Cousin the Curate. + (From Chapter VII of "Prue and I") 183 + +ARTEMUS WARD--(Born in 1824, died in 1867.) + Forrest as Othello. + (From "Artemus Ward, His Book") 191 + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH--(Born in 1836, died in 1908.) + I A Sunrise in Stillwater. + (From Chapter I of "The Stillwater Tragedy") 195 + II The Fight at Slatter's Hill. + (From Chapter XIII of "The Story of a Bad Boy") 198 + III On Returning from Europe. + (From Chapter IX of "From Ponkapog to Pesth") 204 + +WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS--(Born in 1837.) + To Albany by the Night Boat. + (From Chapter III of "The Wedding Journey") 207 + +JOHN HAY--(Born in 1838, died in 1905.) + Lincoln's Early Fame. + (From Volume X, Chapter XVIII of "Abraham Lincoln, + A History") 211 + +HENRY ADAMS--(Born in 1838.) + Jefferson's Retirement. + (From the "History of the United States") 219 + +BRET HARTE--(Born in 1839, died in 1902.) + I Peggy Moffat's Inheritance. + (From "The Twins of Table Mountain") 224 + II John Chinaman. + (From "The Luck of Roaring Camp") 236 + III M'liss Goes to School. + (From "M'liss," one of the stories in "The Luck + of Roaring Camp") 240 + +HENRY JAMES--(Born in 1843.) + I Among the Malvern Hills. + (From "A Passionate Pilgrim and Other Tales") 246 + II Turgeneff's World. + (From "French Poets and Novelists") 252 + +INDEX TO THE TEN VOLUMES 255 + + * * * * * + + + + +VOL. X + +AMERICA--II + +1807-1909 + + * * * * * + + + + +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW + + Born in 1807, died in 1882; graduated from Bowdoin in 1825; + traveled in Europe in 1826-29; professor at Bowdoin in + 1829-35; again visited Europe in 1835-86; professor at + Harvard in 1836-54; published "Voices of the Night" in 1839, + "Evangeline" in 1847, "Hiawatha" in 1855, "Miles Standish" + in 1858; "Tales of a Wayside Inn" in 1863, a translation of + Dante in 1867-70, "The Divine Tragedy" in 1871, and many + other volumes of verse; his prose writings include + "Outre-Mer," published in 1835, and two novels, "Hyperion," + published in 1839, and "Kavanagh," in 1849. + + + + +MUSINGS IN PÈRE LACHAISE[1] + + +The cemetery of Père Lachaise is the Westminster Abbey of Paris. Both +are the dwellings of the dead; but in one they repose in green alleys +and beneath the open sky--in the other their resting place is in the +shadowy aisle and beneath the dim arches of an ancient abbey. One is a +temple of nature; the other a temple of art. In one the soft +melancholy of the scene is rendered still more touching by the warble +of birds and the shade of trees, and the grave receives the gentle +visit of the sunshine and the shower: in the other no sound but the +passing footfall breaks the silence of the place; the twilight steals +in through high and dusky windows; and the damps of the gloomy vault +lie heavy on the heart, and leave their stain upon the moldering +tracery of the tomb. + +[Footnote 1: From "Outre-Mer."] + +Père Lachaise stands just beyond the Barrière d'Aulney, on a hillside +looking toward the city. Numerous gravel walks, winding through shady +avenues and between marble monuments, lead up from the principal +entrance to a chapel on the summit. There is hardly a grave that has +not its little enclosure planted with shrubbery, and a thick mass of +foliage half conceals each funeral stone. The sighing of the wind, as +the branches rise and fall upon it--the occasional note of a bird +among the trees, and the shifting of light and shade upon the tombs +beneath have a soothing effect upon the mind; and I doubt whether any +one can enter that enclosure, where repose the dust and ashes of so +many great and good men, without feeling the religion of the place +steal over him, and seeing something of the dark and gloomy expression +pass off from the stern countenance of Death. + +It was near the close of a bright summer afternoon that I visited this +celebrated spot for the first time. The first object that arrested my +attention on entering was a monument in the form of a small Gothic +chapel which stands near the entrance, in the avenue leading to the +right hand. On the marble couch within are stretched two figures, +carved in stone and drest in the antique garb of the Middle Ages. It +is the tomb of Abélard and Héloïse. The history of these two +unfortunate lovers is too well known to need recapitulation; but +perhaps it is not so well known how often their ashes were disturbed +in the slumber of the grave. Abélard died in the monastery of St. +Marcel, and was buried in the vaults of the church. His body was +afterward removed to the convent of the Paraclete, at the request of +Héloïse, and at her death her body was deposited in the same tomb. +Three centuries they reposed together; after which they were separated +to different sides of the church, to calm the delicate scruples of the +lady abbess of the convent. More than a century afterward they were +again united in the same tomb; and when at length the Paraclete was +destroyed, their moldering remains were transported to the church of +Nogent-sur-Seine. They were next deposited in an ancient cloister at +Paris, and now repose near the gateway of the cemetery of Père +Lachaise. What a singular destiny was theirs! that, after a life of +such passionate and disastrous love--such sorrows, and tears, and +penitence--their very dust should not be suffered to rest quietly in +the grave!--that their death should so much resemble their life in its +changes and vicissitudes, its partings and its meetings, its +inquietudes and its persecutions!--that mistaken zeal should follow +them down to the very tomb--as if earthly passion could glimmer, like +a funeral lamp, amid the damps of the charnel house, and "even in +their ashes burn their wonted fires"! + +As I gazed on the sculptured forms before me, and the little chapel +whose Gothic roof seemed to protect their marble sleep, my busy memory +swung back the dark portals of the past, and the picture of their sad +and eventful lives came up before me in the gloomy distance. What a +lesson for those who are endowed with the fatal gift of genius! It +would seem, indeed, that He who "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb" +tempers also His chastisements to the errors and infirmities of a +weak and simple mind--while the transgressions of him upon whose +nature are more strongly marked the intellectual attributes of the +Deity are followed, even upon earth, by severer tokens of the Divine +displeasure. He who sins in the darkness of a benighted intellect sees +not so clearly, through the shadows that surround him, the countenance +of an offended God; but he who sins in the broad noonday of a clear +and radiant mind, when at length the delirium of sensual passion has +subsided and the cloud flits away from before the sun, trembles +beneath the searching eye of that accusing Power which is strong in +the strength of a godlike intellect. Thus the mind and the heart are +closely linked together, and the errors of genius bear with them their +own chastisement, even upon earth. The history of Abélard and Héloïse +is an illustration of this truth. But at length they sleep well. Their +lives are like a tale that is told; their errors are "folded up like a +book"; and what mortal hand shall break the seal that death has set +upon them? + +Leaving this interesting tomb behind me, I took a pathway to the left, +which conducted me up the hillside. I soon found myself in the deep +shade of heavy foliage, where the branches of the yew and willow +mingled, interwoven with the tendrils and blossoms of the honeysuckle. +I now stood in the most populous part of this city of tombs. Every +step awakened a new train of thrilling recollections, for at every +step my eye caught the name of some one whose glory had exalted the +character of his native land and resounded across the waters of the +Atlantic. Philosophers, historians, musicians, warriors, and poets +slept side by side around me; some beneath the gorgeous monument, and +some beneath the simple headstone. But the political intrigue, the +dream of science, the historical research, the ravishing harmony of +sound, the tried courage, the inspiration of the lyre--where are they? +With the living, and not with the dead! The right hand has lost its +cunning in the grave; but the soul, whose high volitions it obeyed, +still lives to reproduce itself in ages yet to come. + +Amid these graves of genius I observed here and there a splendid +monument, which had been raised by the pride of family over the dust +of men who could lay no claim either to the gratitude or remembrance +of posterity. Their presence seemed like an intrusion into the +sanctuary of genius. What had wealth to do there? Why should it crowd +the dust of the great? That was no thoroughfare of business--no mart +of gain! There were no costly banquets there; no silken garments, nor +gaudy liveries, nor obsequious attendants! "What servants," says +Jeremy Taylor, "shall we have to wait upon us in the grave? what +friends to visit us? what officious people to cleanse away the moist +and unwholesome cloud reflected upon our faces from the sides of the +weeping vaults, which are the longest weepers for our funerals?" +Material wealth gives a factitious superiority to the living, but the +treasures of intellect give a real superiority to the dead; and the +rich man, who would not deign to walk the street with the starving and +penniless man of genius, deems it an honor, when death has redeemed +the fame of the neglected, to have his ashes laid beside him, and to +claim with him the silent companionship of the grave. + +I continued my walk through the numerous winding paths, as chance or +curiosity directed me. Now I was lost in a little green hollow +overhung with thick-leaved shrubbery, and then came out upon an +elevation, from which, through an opening in the trees, the eye caught +glimpses of the city, and the little esplanade at the foot of the hill +where the poor lie buried. There poverty hires its grave and takes but +a short lease of the narrow house. At the end of a few months, or at +most of a few years, the tenant is dislodged to give place to another, +and he in turn to a third. "Who," says Sir Thomas Browne, "knows the +fate of his bones, or how often he is to be buried? Who hath the +oracle of his ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?" + +Yet even in that neglected corner the hand of affection had been busy +in decorating the hired house. Most of the graves were surrounded with +a slight wooden paling, to secure them from the passing footstep; +there was hardly one so deserted as not to be marked with its little +wooden cross and decorated with a garland of flowers; and here and +there I could perceive a solitary mourner, clothed in black, stooping +to plant a shrub on the grave, or sitting in motionless sorrow beside +it. + +As I passed on amid the shadowy avenues of the cemetery, I could not +help comparing my own impressions with those which others have felt +when walking alone among the dwellings of the dead. Are, then, the +sculptured urn and storied monument nothing more than symbols of +family pride? Is all I see around me a memorial of the living more +than of the dead, an empty show of sorrow, which thus vaunts itself in +mournful pageant and funeral parade? Is it indeed true, as some have +said, that the simple wild flower which springs spontaneously upon the +grave, and the rose which the hand of affection plants there, are +fitter objects wherewith to adorn the narrow house? No! I feel that it +is not so! Let the good and the great be honored even in the grave. +Let the sculptured marble direct our footsteps to the scene of their +long sleep; let the chiseled epitaph repeat their names, and tell us +where repose the nobly good and wise! It is not true that all are +equal in the grave. There is no equality even there. The mere handful +of dust and ashes, the mere distinction of prince and beggar, of a +rich winding sheet and a shroudless burial, of a solitary grave and a +family vault--were this all, then, indeed it would be true that death +is a common leveler. Such paltry distinctions as those of wealth and +poverty are soon leveled by the spade and mattock; the damp breath of +the grave blots them out forever. But there are other distinctions +which even the mace of death can not level or obliterate. Can it break +down the distinction of virtue and vice? Can it confound the good with +the bad? the noble with the base? all that is truly great, and pure, +and godlike, with all that is scorned, and sinful, and degraded? No! +Then death is not a common leveler!... + +Before I left the graveyard the shades of evening had fallen, and the +objects around me grown dim and indistinct. As I passed the gateway, I +turned to take a parting look. I could distinguish only the chapel on +the summit of the hill, and here and there a lofty obelisk of +snow-white marble, rising from the black and heavy mass of foliage +around, and pointing upward to the gleam of the departed sun, that +still lingered in the sky, and mingled with the soft starlight of a +summer evening. + + + + +EDGAR ALLAN POE + + Born in 1809, died in 1849; his father and mother actors; + adopted by John Allan of Richmond after his mother's death; + educated in Richmond, in England, at the University of + Virginia, and at West Point; published "Tamerlane" in 1827; + settled in Baltimore and devoted himself to literature; + editor of several magazines 1835-44; published "The Raven" + in 1845, "Al Aaraaf" in 1829, "Tales of the Grotesque and + Arabesque" in 1840. + + + + +I + +THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO[2] + + +It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the +carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with +excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. +He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was +surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him +that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand. + +[Footnote 2: Published in _Godey's Magazine_ in 1846.] + +I said to him: "My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkable +well you are looking to-day! But I have received a pipe of what passes +for Amontillado, and I have my doubts." + +"How?" said he. "Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of +the carnival!" + +"I have my doubts," I replied; "and I was silly enough to pay the full +Amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not +to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain." + +"Amontillado!" + +"I have my doubts--" + +"Amontillado!" + +"And I must satisfy them." + +"Amontillado!" + +"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If any one has a +critical turn, it is he. He will tell me--" + +"Luchesi can not tell Amontillado from Sherry." + +"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your +own." + +"Come, let us go." + +"Whither?" + +"To your vaults." + +"My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive +you have an engagement. Luchesi--" + +"I have no engagement; come." + +"My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with +which I perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. +They are encrusted with niter." + +"Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You +have been imposed upon. And as for Luchesi, he can not distinguish +Sherry from Amontillado." + +Thus speaking, Fortunato possest himself of my arm. Putting on a mask +of black silk, and drawing a _roquelaure_ closely about my person, I +suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo. + +There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in +honor of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the +morning, and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the +house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their +immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned. + +I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, +bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into +the vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him +to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the +descent, and stood together on the damp ground of the catacombs of the +Montresors. + +The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled +as he strode. + +"The pipe," said he. + +"It is farther on," said I; "but observe the white web-work which +gleams from these cavern walls." + +He turned toward me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that +distilled the rheum of intoxication. + +"Niter?" he asked, at length. + +"Niter," I replied. "How long have you had that cough?" + +"Ugh! ugh! ugh--ugh! ugh! ugh!--ugh! ugh! ugh!--ugh! ugh! ugh!--ugh! +ugh! ugh!" + +My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes. + +"It is nothing," he said, at last. + +"Come," I said, with decision, "we will go back; your health is +precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, +as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We +will go back; you will be ill, and I can not be responsible. Besides, +there is Luchesi--" + +"Enough," he said; "the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. +I shall not die." + +"True--true," I replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming +you unnecessarily--but you should use all proper caution. A draft of +this Medoc will defend us from the damps." + +Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row +of its fellows that lay upon the mold. + +"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine. + +He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me +familiarly, while his bells jingled. + +"I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us." + +"And I to your long life." + +He again took my arm, and we proceeded. + +"These vaults," he said, "are extensive." + +"The Montresors," I replied, "were a great and numerous family." + +"I forget your arms." + +"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent +rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel." + +"And the motto?" + +_"Nemo me impune lacessit."_ + +"Good!" he said. + +The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew +warm with the Medoc. We had passed through walls of piled bones, with +casks and puncheons intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the +catacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize +Fortunato by an arm above the elbow. + +"The niter!" I said; "see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the +vaults. We are below the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickle +among the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your +cough--" + +"It is nothing," he said; "let us go on. But first, another draft of +the Medoc." + +I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it at a +breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the +bottle upward with a gesticulation I did not understand. + +I looked at him in surprize. He repeated the movement--a grotesque +one. + +"You do not comprehend!" he said. + +"Not I," I replied. + +"Then you are not of the brotherhood." + +"How?" + +"You are not of the masons." + +"Yes, yes," I said, "yes, yes." + +"You? Impossible! A mason?" + +"A mason," I replied. + +"A sign," he said. + +"It is this," I answered, producing a trowel from beneath the folds of +my _roquelaure_. + +"You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. "But let us proceed +to the Amontillado." + +"Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak, and again +offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route +in search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches, +descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, +in which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow +than flame. + +At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less +spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the +vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three +sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. +From the fourth the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously +upon the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the +walls thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a +still interior recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in +height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no special +use within itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the +colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one +of their circumscribing walls of solid granite. + +It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavored to +pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did +not enable us to see. + +"Proceed," I said, "herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchesi--" + +"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stept unsteadily +forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In an instant he +had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress +arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more and I +had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, +distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of +these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the +links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure +it. He was too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stept +back from the recess. + +"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you can not help feeling the +niter. Indeed it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. +No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all +the little attentions in my power." + +"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his +astonishment. + +"True," I replied; "the Amontillado." + +As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which +I have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity +of building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of +my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche. + +I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered +that the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. +The earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the +depth of the recess. It was _not_ the cry of a drunken man. There was +then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the +third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the +chain. The noise lasted for several minutes, during which, that I +might harken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labors and +sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed +the trowel, and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, +and the seventh tier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with my +breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, +threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within. + +A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the +throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a +brief moment I hesitated--I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began +to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant +reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, +and felt satisfied. I reapproached the wall. I replied to the yells of +him who clamored. I reechoed--I aided--I surpassed them in volume and +in strength. I did this, and the clamorer grew still. + +It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had +completed the eighth, the ninth, and the tenth tier. I had finished a +portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single +stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I +placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from +out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was +succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as +that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said: + +"Ha! ha! ha!--he! he!--a very good joke--indeed--an excellent jest. We +will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo--he! he! he!--over +our wine--he! he! he!" + +"The Amontillado!" I said. + +"He! he! he!--he! he! he!--yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting +late? Will they not be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato +and the rest? Let us be gone." + +"Yes," I said, "let us be gone." + +"For the love of God, Montresor!" + +"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" + +But to these words I harkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I +called aloud: "Fortunato!" + +No answer. I called again: "Fortunato!" + +No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and +let it fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of the +bells. My heart grew sick--on account of the dampness of the +catacombs. I hastened to make an end of my labor. I forced the last +stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I +reerected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no +mortal has disturbed them. _In pace requiescat!_ + + + + +II + +OF HAWTHORNE AND THE SHORT STORY[3] + + +The reputation of the author of "Twice-Told Tales" has been confined, +until very lately, to literary society; and I have not been wrong, +perhaps, in citing him as the example, par excellence, in this +country, of the privately admired and publicly-unappreciated man of +genius. Within the last year or two, it is true, an occasional critic +has been urged, by honest indignation, into very warm approval. Mr. +Webber,[4] for instance (than whom no one has a keener relish for that +kind of writing which Mr. Hawthorne has best illustrated), gave us, in +a late number of _The American Review_, a cordial and certainly a full +tribute to his talents; and since the issue of the "Mosses from an Old +Manse" criticisms of similar tone have been by no means infrequent in +our more authoritative journals. I can call to mind few reviews of +Hawthorne published before the "Mosses." One I remember in _Arcturus_ +(edited by Matthews and Duyckinck[5]) for May, 1841; another in the +_American Monthly_ (edited by Hoffman[6] and Herbert) for March, 1838; +a third in the ninety-sixth number of _The North American Review_. +These criticisms, however, seemed to have little effect on the popular +taste--at least, if we are to form any idea of the popular taste by +reference to its expression in the newspapers, or by the sale of the +author's book. It was never the fashion (until lately) to speak of +him in any summary of our best authors.... + +[Footnote 3: From a review of Hawthorne's "Twice Told Tales" and +"Mosses from an Old Manse," published in _Godey's Magazine_ in 1846. +Except for an earlier notice by Longfellow in _The North American +Review_, this was the first notable recognition Hawthorne's stories +received from a contemporary critic.] + +[Footnote 4: Charles Wilkens Webber, magazine writer and author of a +dozen books now forgotten, was a native of Kentucky who settled in New +York. In 1855 he joined William Walker in his filibustering expedition +to Central America, and was killed in the battle of Rivas.] + +[Footnote 5: Evert A. Duyckinck, joint editor with his brother of the +"Cyclopedia of American Literature."] + +[Footnote 6: Charles Fenno Hoffman, poet, novelist, and critic, was +related to Mathilda Hoffman, the sweetheart of Washington Irving.] + +Beyond doubt, this inappreciation of him on the part of the public +arose chiefly from the two causes to which I have referred--from the +facts that he is neither a man of wealth nor a quack; but these are +insufficient to account for the whole effect. No small portion of it +is attributable to the very marked idiosyncrasy of Mr. Hawthorne +himself. In one sense, and in great measure, to be peculiar is to be +original, and than the true originality there is no higher literary +virtue. This true or commendable originality, however, implies not the +uniform, but the continuous peculiarity--a peculiarity springing from +ever-active vigor of fancy--better still if from ever-present force of +imagination, giving its own hue, its own character to everything it +touches, and, especially, self-impelled to touch everything.... + +The pieces in the volumes entitled "Twice-Told Tales" are now in their +third republication, and, of course, are thrice-told. Moreover, they +are by no means all tales, either in the ordinary or in the legitimate +understanding of the term. Many of them are pure essays. Of the Essays +I must be content to speak in brief. They are each and all beautiful, +without being characterized by the polish and adaptation so visible in +the tales proper. A painter would at once note their leading or +predominant feature, and style it repose. There is no attempt at +effect. All is quiet, thoughtful, subdued. Yet this repose may exist +simultaneously with high originality of thought; and Mr. Hawthorne has +demonstrated the fact. At every turn we meet with novel combinations; +yet these combinations never surpass the limits of the quiet. We are +soothed as we read; and withal is a calm astonishment that ideas so +apparently obvious have never occurred or been presented to us before. +Herein our author differs materially from Lamb or Hunt or +Hazlitt--who, with vivid originality of manner and expression, have +less of the true novelty of thought than is generally supposed, and +whose originality, at best, has an uneasy and meretricious quaintness, +replete with startling effects unfounded in nature, and inducing +trains of reflection which lead to no satisfactory result. The essays +of Hawthorne have much of the character of Irving, with more of +originality, and less of finish; while, compared with the _Spectator_, +they have a vast superiority at all points. The Spectator, Mr. Irving +and Hawthorne have in common that tranquil and subdued manner which I +have chosen to denominate repose; but, in the ease of the two former, +this repose is attained rather by the absence of novel combination, or +of originality, than otherwise, and consists chiefly in the calm, +quiet, unostentatious expression of commonplace thoughts, in an +unambitious, unadulterated Saxon. In them, by strong effort, we are +made to conceive the absence of all. In the essays before me the +absence of effort is too obvious to be mistaken, and a strong +undercurrent of suggestion runs continuously beneath the upper stream +of the tranquil thesis. In short, these effusions of Mr. Hawthorne are +the product of a truly imaginative intellect, restrained, and in some +measure represt by fastidiousness of taste, by constitutional +melancholy, and by indolence. + +But it is of his tales that I desire principally to speak. The tale +proper, in my opinion, affords unquestionably the fairest field for +the exercise of the loftiest talent which can be afforded by the wide +domains of mere prose. Were I bidden to say how the highest genius +could be most advantageously employed for the best display of its own +powers, I should answer, without hesitation--in the composition of a +rimed poem, not to exceed in length what might be perused in an hour. +Within this limit alone can the highest order of true poetry exist. I +need only here say, upon this topic, that, in almost all classes of +composition, the unity of effect or impression is a point of the +greatest importance. It is clear, moreover, that this unity can not be +thoroughly preserved in productions whose perusal can not be completed +at one sitting. We may continue the reading of a prose composition, +from the very nature of prose itself, much longer than we can +persevere, to any good purpose, in the perusal of a poem. This latter, +if truly fulfilling the demands of the poetic sentiment, induces an +exaltation of the soul which can not be long sustained. All high +excitements are necessarily transient. Thus a long poem is a paradox. +And, without unity of impression, the deepest effects can not be +brought about. Epics were the offspring of an imperfect sense of art, +and their reign is no more. A poem too brief may produce a vivid, but +never an intense or enduring impression. Without a certain continuity +of effort--without a certain duration or repetition of purpose--the +soul is never deeply moved. There must be the dropping of the water +upon the rock. De Béranger has wrought brilliant things--pungent and +spirit-stirring--but, like all impassive bodies, they lack momentum, +and thus fail to satisfy the poetic sentiment. They sparkle and +excite, but, from want of continuity, fail deeply to impress. Extreme +brevity will degenerate into epigrammatism; but the sin of extreme +length is even more unpardonable. _In medio tutissimus ibis._ Were I +called upon, however, to designate that class of composition which, +next to such a poem as I have suggested, should best fulfil the +demands of high genius--should offer it the most advantageous field of +exertion--I should unhesitatingly speak of the prose tale, as Mr. +Hawthorne has here exemplified it. I allude to the short prose +narrative, requiring from a half-hour to one or two hours in its +perusal. + +Of Mr. Hawthorne's "Tales" we would say, emphatically that they belong +to the highest region of art--an art subservient to genius of a very +lofty order.... We know of few compositions which the critic can more +honestly commend than these "Twice-Told Tales." As Americans, we feel +proud of the book. + +Mr. Hawthorne's distinctive trait is invention, creation, imagination, +originality--a trait which, in the literature of fiction, is +positively worth all the rest. But the nature of the originality, so +far as regards its manifestation in letters, is but imperfectly +understood. The inventive or original mind as frequently displays +itself in novelty of tone as in novelty of matter. Mr. Hawthorne is +original in all points. It would be a matter of some difficulty to +designate the best of these tales; we repeat that, without exception, +they are beautiful. + +He has the purest style, the finest taste, the most available +scholarship, the most delicate humor, the most touching pathos, the +most radiant imagination, the most consummate ingenuity; and with +these varied good qualities he has done well as a mystic. But is there +any one of these qualities which should prevent his doing doubly as +well in a career of honest, upright, sensible, prehensible and +comprehensible things? Let him mend his pen, get a bottle of visible +ink, come out from the "Old Manse," cut Mr. Alcott, hang (if possible) +the editor of The Dial, and throw out of the window to the pigs all +his odd numbers of _The North American Review_. + + + + +III + +OF WILLIS, BRYANT, HALLECK, AND MACAULAY[7] + + +Whatever may be thought of Mr. Willis's talents, there can be no doubt +about the fact that, both as an author and as a man, he has made a +good deal of noise in the world--at least for an American. His +literary life, in especial, has been one continual emeute; but then +his literary character is modified or impelled in a very remarkable +degree by his personal one. His success (for in point of fame, if of +nothing else, he has certainly been successful) is to be attributed +one-third to his mental ability and two-thirds to his physical +temperament--the latter goading him into the accomplishment of what +the former merely gave him the means of accomplishing.... At a very +early age, Mr. Willis seems to have arrived at an understanding that, +in a republic such as ours, the mere man of letters must ever be a +cipher, and endeavored, accordingly, to unite the eclat of the +litterateur with that of the man of fashion or of society. He "pushed +himself," went much into the world, made friends with the gentler sex, +"delivered" poetical addresses, wrote "scriptural" poems, traveled, +sought the intimacy of noted women, and got into quarrels with +notorious men. All these things served his purpose--if, indeed, I am +right in supposing that he had any purpose at all. It is quite +probable that, as before hinted, he acted only in accordance with his +physical temperament; but, be this as it may, his personal greatly +advanced, if it did not altogether establish his literary fame. I have +often carefully considered whether, without the physique of which I +speak, there is that in the absolute morale of Mr. Willis which would +have earned him reputation as a man of letters, and my conclusion is +that he could not have failed to become noted in some degree under +almost any circumstances, but that about two-thirds (as above stated) +of his appreciation by the public should be attributed to those +adventures which grew immediately out of his animal constitution. + +[Footnote 7: Passages selected from articles now printed in Volume II +of the "Works of Poe," as published in New York in 1876.] + +Mr. Bryant's position in the poetical world is, perhaps, better +settled than that of any American. There is less difference of opinion +about his rank; but, as usual, the agreement is more decided in +private literary circles than in what appears to be the public +expression of sentiment as gleaned from the press. I may as well +observe here, too, that this coincidence of opinion in private circles +is in all cases very noticeable when compared with the discrepancy of +the apparent public opinion. In private it is quite a rare thing to +find any strongly-marked disagreement--I mean, of course, about mere +authorial merit.... It will never do to claim for Bryant a genius of +the loftiest order, but there has been latterly, since the days of Mr. +Longfellow and Mr. Lowell, a growing disposition to deny him genius in +any respect. He is now commonly spoken of as "a man of high poetical +talent, very 'correct,' with a warm appreciation of the beauty of +nature and great descriptive powers, but rather too much of the +old-school manner of Cowper, Goldsmith and Young." This is the truth, +but not the whole truth. Mr. Bryant has genius, and that of a marked +character, but it has been overlooked by modern schools, because +deficient in those externals which have become in a measure symbolical +of those schools. + +The name of Halleck is at least as well established in the poetical +world as that of any American. Our principal poets are, perhaps, most +frequently named in this order--Bryant, Halleck, Dana, Sprague,[8] +Longfellow, Willis, and so on--Halleck coming second in the series, +but holding, in fact, a rank in the public opinion quite equal to that +of Bryant. The accuracy of the arrangement as above made may, indeed, +be questioned. For my own part, I should have it thus--Longfellow, +Bryant, Halleck, Willis, Sprague, Dana; and, estimating rather the +poetic capacity than the poems actually accomplished, there are three +or four comparatively unknown writers whom I would place in the series +between Bryant and Halleck, while there are about a dozen whom I +should assign a position between Willis and Sprague. Two dozen at +least might find room between Sprague and Dana--this latter, I fear, +owing a very large portion of his reputation to his quondam editorial +connection with _The North American Review_. One or two poets, now in +my mind's eye, I should have no hesitation in posting above even Mr. +Longfellow--still not intending this as very extravagant praise.... +Mr. Halleck, in the apparent public estimate, maintains a somewhat +better position than that to which, on absolute grounds, he is +entitled. There is something, too, in the bonhomie of certain of his +compositions--something altogether distinct from poetic merit--which +has aided to establish him; and much also must be admitted on the +score of his personal popularity, which is deservedly great. With all +these allowances, however, there will still be found a large amount of +poetical fame to which he is fairly entitled.... Personally he is a +man to be admired, respected, but more especially beloved. His address +has all the captivating bonhomie which is the leading feature of his +poetry, and, indeed, of his whole moral nature. With his friends he +is all ardor, enthusiasm and cordiality, but to the world at large he +is reserved, shunning society, into which he is seduced only with +difficulty, and upon rare occasions. The love of solitude seems to +have become with him a passion. + +[Footnote 8: Charles Sprague, born in Boston in 1791, was known in his +own day as "the American Pope."] + +Macaulay has obtained a reputation which, altho deservedly great, is +yet in a remarkable measure undeserved. The few who regard him merely +as a terse, forcible and logical writer, full of thought, and +abounding in original views, often sagacious and never otherwise than +admirably exprest--appear to us precisely in the right. The many who +look upon him as not only all this, but as a comprehensive and +profound thinker, little prone to error, err essentially themselves. +The source of the general mistake lies in a very singular +consideration--yet in one upon which we do not remember ever to have +heard a word of comment. We allude to a tendency in the public mind +toward logic for logic's sake--a liability to confound the vehicle +with the conveyed--an aptitude to be so dazzled by the luminousness +with which an idea is set forth as to mistake it for the luminousness +of the idea itself. The error is one exactly analogous with that which +leads the immature poet to think himself sublime wherever he is +obscure, because obscurity is a source of the sublime--thus +confounding obscurity of expression with the expression of obscurity. +In the case of Macaulay--and we may say, _en passant_, of our own +Channing--we assent to what he says too often because we so very +clearly understand what it is that he intends to say. Comprehending +vividly the points and the sequence of his argument, we fancy that we +are concurring in the argument itself. It is not every mind which is +at once able to analyze the satisfaction it receives from such essays +as we see here. If it were merely beauty of style for which they were +distinguished--if they were remarkable only for rhetorical +flourishes--we would not be apt to estimate these flourishes at more +than their due value. We would not agree with the doctrines of the +essayist on account of the elegance with which they were urged. On the +contrary, we would be inclined to disbelief. But when all ornament +save that of simplicity is disclaimed--when we are attacked by +precision of language, by perfect accuracy of expression, by +directness and singleness of thought, and above all by a logic the +most rigorously close and consequential--it is hardly a matter for +wonder that nine of us out of ten are content to rest in the +gratification thus received as in the gratification of absolute +truth. + + + + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + + Born in 1809, died in 1894; professor in the Medical School + of Harvard in 1847-82; wrote for the _Atlantic Monthly_ "The + Autocrat of the Breakfast Table" in 1857-58, "The Professor + at the Breakfast Table" in 1859, "The Poet at the Breakfast + Table" in 1872; published "Elsie Venner" in 1861, "The + Guardian Angel" in 1868, "A Mortal Antipathy" in 1885; a + collection of verse entitled "Songs in Many Keys" in 1861, + "Humorous Poems" in 1865, "Songs of Many Seasons," in 1874, + "Before the Curfew" in 1888; also wrote volumes of essays + and memoirs of Emerson and Motley. + + + + +I + +OF DOCTORS, LAWYERS, AND MINISTERS[9] + + +"What is your general estimate of doctors, lawyers, and ministers?" +said I. + +"Wait a minute, till I have got through with your first question," +said the Master. "One thing at a time. You asked me about the young +doctors, and about our young doctors, they come home _très bien +chaussés_, as a Frenchman would say, mighty well shod with +professional knowledge. But when they begin walking round among their +poor patients--they don't commonly start with millionaires--they find +that their new shoes of scientific acquirements have got to be broken +in just like a pair of boots or brogans. I don't know that I have put +it quite strong enough. Let me try again. You've seen those fellows at +the circus that get up on horseback, so big that you wonder how they +could climb into the saddle. But pretty soon they throw off their +outside coat, and the next minute another one, and then the one under +that, and so they keep peeling off one garment after another till +people begin to look queer and think they are going too far for strict +propriety. Well, that is the way a fellow with a real practical turn +serves a good many of his scientific wrappers--flings 'em off for +other people to pick up, and goes right at the work of curing +stomach-aches and all the other little mean unscientific complaints +that make up the larger part of every doctor's business. I think our +Dr. Benjamin is a worthy young man, and if you are in need of a doctor +at any time I hope you will go to him; and if you come off without +harm, I will--recommend some other friend to try him." + +[Footnote 9: From Chapter V of "The Poet at the Breakfast Table." +Copyright, 1872, 1891, by Oliver Wendell Holmes. Published by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +I thought he was going to say he would try him in his own person; but +the Master is not fond of committing himself. + +"Now I will answer your other question," he said. "The lawyers are the +cleverest men, the ministers are the most learned, and the doctors are +the most sensible." + +"The lawyers are a picked lot, 'first scholars,' and the like, but +their business is as unsympathetic as Jack Ketch's. There is nothing +humanizing in their relations with their fellow creatures. They go for +the side that retains them. They defend the man they know to be a +rogue, and not very rarely throw suspicion on the man they know to be +innocent. Mind you, I am not finding fault with them--every side of a +case has a right to the best statement it admits of; but I say it does +not tend to make them sympathetic. Suppose in a case of Fever _vs._ +Patient, the doctor should side with either party according to whether +the old miser or his expectant heir was his employer. Suppose the +minister should side with the Lord or the devil, according to the +salary offered, and other incidental advantages, where the soul of a +sinner was in question. You can see what a piece of work it would make +of their sympathies. But the lawyers are quicker witted than either of +the other professions, and abler men generally. They are good-natured, +or if they quarrel, their quarrels are above-board. I don't think they +are as accomplished as the ministers; but they have a way of cramming +with special knowledge for a case, which leaves a certain shallow +sediment of intelligence in their memories about a good many things. +They are apt to talk law in mixt company; and they have a way of +looking round when they make a point, as if they were addressing a +jury, that is mighty aggravating--as I once had occasion to see when +one of 'em, and a pretty famous one, put me on the witness stand at a +dinner party once. + +"The ministers come next in point of talent. They are far more curious +and widely interested outside of their own calling than either of the +other professions. I like to talk with 'em. They are interesting men: +full of good feelings, hard workers, always foremost in good deeds, +and on the whole the most efficient civilizing class--working downward +from knowledge to ignorance, that is; not so much upward, +perhaps--that we have. The trouble is that so many of 'em work in +harness, and it is pretty sure to chafe somewhere. They feed us on +canned meats mostly. They cripple our instincts and reason, and give +us a crutch of doctrine. I have talked with a great many of 'em, of +all sorts of belief; and I don't think they are quite so easy in their +minds, the greater number of them, nor so clear in their convictions +as one would think to hear 'em lay down the law in the pulpit. They +used to lead the intelligence of their parishes; now they do pretty +well if they keep up with it, and they are very apt to lag behind it. +Then they must have a colleague. The old minister thinks he can hold +to his old course, sailing right into the wind's eye of human nature, +as straight as that famous old skipper John Bunyan; the young minister +falls off three or four points, and catches the breeze that left the +old man's sails all shivering. By-and-by the congregation will get +ahead of him, and then it must have another new skipper. The priest +holds his own pretty well; the minister is coming down every +generation nearer and nearer to the common level of the useful +citizen--no oracle at all, but a man of more than average moral +instincts, who, if he knows anything, knows how little he knows. The +ministers are good talkers, only the struggle between nature and grace +makes some of 'em a little awkward occasionally. The women do their +best to spoil 'em, as they do the poets. You find it pleasant to be +spoiled, no doubt; so do they. Now and then one of 'em goes over the +dam; no wonder--they're always in the rapids." + +By this time our three ladies had their faces all turned toward the +speaker, like the weathercocks in a northeaster, and I thought it best +to switch off the talk on to another rail. + +"How about the doctors?" I said. + +"Theirs is the least learned of the professions, in this country at +least. They have not half the general culture of the lawyers, nor a +quarter of that of the ministers. I rather think, tho, they are more +agreeable to the common run of people than the men with the black +coats or the men with green bags. People can swear before 'em if they +want to, and they can't very well before ministers. I don't care +whether they want to swear or not, they don't want to be on their good +behavior. Besides, the minister has a little smack of the sexton about +him; he comes when people are _in extremis_, but they don't send for +him every time they make a slight moral slip--tell a lie, for +instance, or smuggle a silk dress through the custom-house: but they +call in the doctor when the child is cutting a tooth or gets a +splinter in its finger. So it doesn't mean much to send for him, only +a pleasant chat about the news of the day; for putting the baby to +rights doesn't take long. Besides, everybody doesn't like to talk +about the next world; people are modest in their desires, and find +this world as good as they deserve: but everybody loves to talk +physic. Everybody loves to hear of strange cases; people are eager to +tell the doctor of the wonderful cures they have heard of; they want +to know what is the matter with somebody or other who is said to be +suffering from "a complication of diseases," and above all to get a +hard name, Greek or Latin, for some complaint which sounds altogether +too commonplace in plain English. If you will only call a headache a +_Cephalalgia_, it acquires dignity at once, and a patient becomes +rather proud of it. So I think doctors are generally welcome in most +companies." + + + + +II + +OF THE GENIUS OF EMERSON[10] + + +Emerson's was an Asiatic mind, drawing its sustenance partly from the +hard soil of our New England, partly, too, from the air that has known +Himalaya and the Ganges. So imprest with this character of his mind +was Mr. Burlingame,[11] as I saw him, after his return from his +mission, that he said to me, in a freshet of hyperbole, which was the +overflow of a channel with a thread of truth running in it, "There are +twenty thousand Ralph Waldo Emersons in China." + +[Footnote 10: From an address before the Massachusetts Historical +Society in 1862. Published by Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +[Footnote 11: Anson Burlingame, famous in his time for treaties +negotiated between China and the United States, England, Denmark, +Sweden, Holland, and Prussia. His son, E. I. Burlingame, has long been +the editor of _Scribner's Magazine_.] + +What could we do with this unexpected, unprovided for, unclassified, +half-unwelcome new-comer, who had been for a while potted, as it +were, in our Unitarian cold green-house, but had taken to growing so +fast that he was lifting off its glass roof and letting in the +hailstorms? Here was a protest that outflanked the extreme left of +liberalism, yet so calm and serene that its radicalism had the accents +of the gospel of peace. Here was an iconoclast without a hammer, who +took down our idols from their pedestals so tenderly that it seemed +like an act of worship. + +The scribes and pharisees made light of his oracular sayings. The +lawyers could not find the witnesses to subpoena and the documents +to refer to when his case came before them, and turned him over to +their wives and daughters. The ministers denounced his heresies, and +handled his writings as if they were packages of dynamite, and the +grandmothers were as much afraid of his new teachings as old Mrs. +Piozzi[12] was of geology. We had had revolutionary orators, +reformers, martyrs; it was but a few years since Abner Kneeland had +been sent to jail for expressing an opinion about the great First +Cause; but we had had nothing like this man, with his seraphic voice +and countenance, his choice vocabulary, his refined utterance, his +gentle courage, which, with a different manner, might have been called +audacity, his temperate statement of opinions which threatened to +shake the existing order of thought like an earthquake. + +[Footnote 12: Hester Lynch Salisbury, who married first Henry Thrale, +the English brewer, and second an Italian musician named Piozzi; but +her fame rests on her friendship of twenty years with Doctor Samuel +Johnson, of whom she wrote reminiscences, described by Carlyle as +"Piozzi's ginger beer."] + +His peculiarities of style and of thinking became fertile parents of +mannerisms, which were fair game for ridicule as they appeared in his +imitators. For one who talks like Emerson or like Carlyle soon finds +himself surrounded by a crowd of walking phonographs, who mechanically +reproduce his mental and vocal accents. Emerson was before long +talking in the midst of a babbling Simonetta of echoes, and not +unnaturally was now and then himself a mark for the small-shot of +criticism. He had soon reached that height in the "cold thin +atmosphere" of thought where + + "Vainly the fowler's eye + Might mark his distant flight to do him wrong." + +I shall add a few words, of necessity almost epigrammatic, upon his +work and character. He dealt with life, and life with him was not +merely this particular air-breathing phase of being, but the spiritual +existence which included it like a parenthesis between the two +infinities. He wanted his daily drafts of oxygen like his neighbors, +and was as thoroughly human as the plain people he mentions who had +successively owned or thought they owned the house-lot on which he +planted his hearthstone. But he was at home no less in the +interstellar spaces outside of all the atmospheres. The +semi-materialistic idealism of Milton was a gross and clumsy medium +compared to the imponderable ether of "The Over-soul" and the +unimaginable vacuum of "Brahma." He followed in the shining and daring +track of the _Graius homo_ of Lucretius: + + _"Vivida vis animi pervicit, et extra + Processit longe flammantia moenia mundi."_ + +It always seemed to me as if he looked at this earth very much as a +visitor from another planet would look upon it. He was interested, and +to some extent curious about it, but it was not the first spheroid he +had been acquainted with, by any means. I have amused myself with +comparing his descriptions of natural objects with those of the Angel +Raphael in the seventh book of Paradise Lost. Emerson talks of his +titmouse as Raphael talks of his emmet. Angels and poets never deal +with nature after the manner of those whom we call naturalists. + +To judge of him as a thinker, Emerson should have been heard as a +lecturer, for his manner was an illustration of his way of thinking. +He would lose his place just as his mind would drop its thought and +pick up another, twentieth cousin or no relation at all to it. This +went so far at times that one could hardly tell whether he was putting +together a mosaic of colored fragments, or only turning a kaleidoscope +where the pieces tumbled about as they best might. It was as if he had +been looking in at a cosmic peep-show, and turning from it at brief +intervals to tell us what he saw. But what fragments these colored +sentences were, and what pictures they often placed before us, as if +we too saw them! Never has this city known such audiences as he +gathered; never was such an Olympian entertainment as that which he +gave them. + +It is very hard to speak of Mr. Emerson's poetry; not to do it +injustice, still more to do it justice. It seems to me like the robe +of a monarch patched by a New England housewife. The royal tint and +stuff are unmistakable, but here and there the gray worsted from the +darning-needle crosses and ekes out the Tyrian purple. Few poets who +have written so little in verse have dropped so many of those "jewels +five words long" which fall from their setting only to be more +choicely treasured. _E pluribus unum_ is scarcely more familiar to our +ears than "He builded better than he knew," and Keats's "thing of +beauty" is little better known than Emerson's "beauty is its own +excuse for being." One may not like to read Emerson's poetry because +it is sometimes careless, almost as if carefully so, tho never +undignified even when slipshod; spotted with quaint archaisms and +strange expressions that sound like the affectation of negligence, or +with plain, homely phrases such as the self-made scholar is always +afraid of. But if one likes Emerson's poetry he will be sure to love +it; if he loves it, its phrases will cling to him as hardly any others +do. It may not be for the multitude, but it finds its place like +pollen-dust and penetrates to the consciousness it is to fertilize and +bring to flower and fruit. + +I have known something of Emerson as a talker, not nearly so much as +many others who can speak and write of him. It is unsafe to tell how a +great thinker talks, for perhaps, like a city dealer with a village +customer, he has not shown his best goods to the innocent reporter of +his sayings. However that may be in this case, let me contrast in a +single glance the momentary effect in conversation of the two +neighbors, Hawthorne and Emerson. Speech seemed like a kind of travail +to Hawthorne. One must harpoon him like a cetacean with questions to +make him talk at all. Then the words came from him at last, with +bashful manifestations, like those of a young girl, almost--words that +gasped themselves forth, seeming to leave a great deal more behind +them than they told, and died out discontented with themselves, like +the monologue of thunder in the sky, which always goes off mumbling +and grumbling as if it had not said half it wanted to, and ought to +say.... + +To sum up briefly what would, as it seems to me, be the text to be +unfolded in his biography, he was a man of excellent common sense, +with a genius so uncommon that he seemed like an exotic transplanted +from some angelic nursery. His character was so blameless, so +beautiful, that it was rather a standard to judge others by than to +find a place for on the scale of comparison. Looking at life with the +profoundest sense of its infinite significance, he was yet a cheerful +optimist, almost too hopeful, peeping into every cradle to see if it +did not hold a babe with the halo of a new Messiah about it. He +enriched the treasure-house of literature, but, what was far more, he +enlarged the boundaries of thought for the few that followed him, and +the many who never knew, and do not know to-day, what hand it was +which took down their prison walls. He was a preacher who taught that +the religion of humanity included both those of Palestine, nor those +alone, and taught it with such consecrated lips that the narrowest +bigot was ashamed to pray for him, as from a footstool nearer to the +throne. "Hitch your wagon to a star": this was his version of the +divine lesson taught by that holy George Herbert whose words he +loved. Give him whatever place belongs to him in our literature, in +the literature of our language, of the world, but remember this: the +end and aim of his being was to make truth lovely and manhood +valorous, and to bring our daily life nearer and nearer to the +eternal, immortal, invisible. + + + + +III + +THE HOUSE IN WHICH THE PROFESSOR LIVED[13] + + +"This is the shortest way," she said, as we came to a corner. + +"Then we won't take it," said I. The schoolmistress laughed a little, +and said she was ten minutes early, so she could go around. + +[Footnote 13: From Part X of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." +Published by Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +We walked around Mr. Paddock's row of English elms. The gray squirrels +were out looking for their breakfasts, and one of them came toward us +in light, soft, intermittent leaps, until he was close to the rail of +the burial ground. He was on a grave with a broad blue slate-stone at +its head, and a shrub growing on it. The stone said this was the grave +of a young man who was the son of an honorable gentleman, and who died +a hundred years ago and more. Oh, yes, died--with a small triangular +mark in one breast, and another smaller opposite, in his back, where +another young man's rapier had slid through his body; and so he lay +down out there on the Common, and was found cold the next morning, +with the night dews and the death dews mingled on his forehead. + +"Let us have one look at poor Benjamin's grave," said I. "His bones +lie where his body was laid so long ago, and where the stone says they +lie--which is more than can be said of most of the tenants of this and +several other burial grounds.... + +"Stop before we turn away, and breathe a woman's sigh over poor +Benjamin's dust. Love killed him, I think. Twenty years old, and out +there fighting another young fellow on the common, in the cool of that +old July evening; yes, there must have been love at the bottom of it." + +The schoolmistress dropt a rosebud she had in her hand through the +rails, upon the grave of Benjamin Woolbridge. That was all her comment +upon what I told her. "How women love Love!" said I; but she did not +speak. + +We came opposite the head of a place or court running eastward from +the main street. "Look down there," I said; "my friend, the Professor, +lived in that house, at the left hand, next the further corner, for +years and years. He died out of it, the other day." "Died?" said the +schoolmistress. "Certainly," said I. "We die out of houses, just as we +die out of our bodies. A commercial smash kills a hundred men's homes +for them, as a railroad crash kills their mortal frames and drives out +the immortal tenants. Men sicken of houses until at last they quit +them, as the soul leaves its body when it is tired of its infirmities. +The body has been called 'the house we live in'; the house is quite +as much the body we live in. Shall I tell you some things the +Professor said the other day?" "Do!" said the schoolmistress. + +"'A man's body,' said the Professor, 'is whatever is occupied by his +will and his sensibility. The small room down there, where I wrote +those papers you remember reading, was much more a part of my body +than a paralytic's senseless and motionless arm or leg is of his. + +"'The soul of a man has a series of concentric envelopes around it, +like the core of an onion, or the innermost of a nest of boxes. First, +he has his natural garment of flesh and blood. Then his artificial +integuments, with their true skin of solid stuffs, their cuticle of +lighter tissues, and their variously tinted pigments. Third, his +domicile, be it a single chamber or a stately mansion. And then, the +whole visible world, in which Time buttons him up as in a loose +outside wrapper. + +"'You shall observe,' the Professor said, for like Mr. John Hunter and +other great men, he brings in that 'shall' with great effect +sometimes, 'you shall observe that a man's clothing or series of +envelopes after a certain time mold themselves upon his individual +nature. We know this of our hats, and are always reminded of it when +we happen to put them on wrong side foremost. We soon find that the +beaver is a hollow cast of the skull, with all its irregular bumps and +depressions. Just so all that clothes a man, even to the blue sky +which caps his head--a little loosely--shapes itself to fit each +particular being beneath it. Farmers, sailors, astronomers, poets, +lovers, condemned criminals, all find it different, according to the +eyes with which they severally look. + +"'But our houses shape themselves palpably on our inner and outer +natures. See a householder breaking up and you will be sure of it. +There is a shellfish which builds all manner of smaller shells into +the walls of its own. A house is never a home until we have crusted it +with the spoils of a hundred lives besides those of our own past. See +what these are, and you can tell what the occupant is. + +"'I had no idea,' said the Professor, 'until I pulled up my domestic +establishment the other day, what an enormous quantity of roots I had +been making the years I was planted there. Why, there wasn't a nook or +a corner that some fiber had not worked its way into; and when I gave +the last wrench, each of them seemed to shriek like a mandrake, as it +broke its hold and came away. + +"'There is nothing that happens, you know, which must not inevitably, +and which does not actually, photograph itself in every conceivable +aspect and in all dimensions. The infinite galleries of the Past await +but one brief process, and all their pictures will be called out and +fixt forever. We had a curious illustration of the great fact on a +very humble scale. When a certain bookcase, long standing in one +place, for which it was built, was removed, there was the exact image +on the wall of the whole, and of many of its portions. But in the +midst of this picture was another--the precise outline of a map which +hung on the wall before the bookcase was built. We had all forgotten +everything about the map until we saw its photograph on the wall. +Then we remembered it, as some day or other we may remember a sin +which has been built over and covered up, when this lower universe is +pulled away from the wall of Infinity, where the wrongdoing stands, +self-recorded.' + +"The Professor lived in that house a long time--not twenty years, but +pretty near it. When he entered that door, two shadows glided over the +threshold; five lingered in the doorway when he passed through it for +the last time--and one of the shadows was claimed by its owner to be +longer than his own. What changes he saw in that quiet place! Death +rained through every roof but his; children came into life, grew to +maturity; wedded, faded away, threw themselves away; the whole drama +of life was played in that stock company's theater of a dozen houses, +one of which was his, and no deep sorrow or severe calamity ever +entered his dwelling. 'Peace be to those walls forever,' the Professor +said, for the many pleasant years he has passed within them. + +"The Professor has a friend, now living at a distance, who has been +with him in many of his changes of place, and who follows him in +imagination with tender interest wherever he goes. In that little +court, where he lived in gay loneliness so long--in his autumnal +sojourn by the Connecticut, where it comes loitering down from its +mountain fastnesses like a great lord, swallowing up the small +proprietary rivulets very quietly as it goes, until it gets proud and +swollen and wantons in huge luxurious oxbows about the fair +Northampton meadows, and at last overflows the oldest inhabitant's +memory in profligate freshets at Hartford and all along its lower +shores--up in that caravansary on the banks of the stream where +Ledyard launched his log canoe, and the jovial old Colonel used to +lead the commencement processions--where blue Ascutney looked down +from the far distance, and the hills of Beulah, as the Professor +always called them, rolled up the opposite horizon in soft climbing +masses, so suggestive of the Pilgrim's Heavenward Path that he used to +look through his old 'Dollond' to see if the Shining Ones were not +within range of sight--sweet visions, sweetest in those Sunday walks +that carried them by the peaceful common, through the solemn village +lying in cataleptic stillness under the shadows of the rod of Moses, +to the terminus of their harmless stroll--the 'patulous fage,' in the +Professor's classic dialect--the spreading beech, in more familiar +phrase--[stop and breathe here a moment, for the sentence is not done +yet, and We have another long journey before us.] + +"--and again once more up among those other hills that shut in the +amber-flowing Housatonic--dark stream, but clear, like the lucid orbs +that shine beneath the lids of auburn-haired, sherry-wine-eyed +demiblondes--in the home overlooking the winding stream and the +smooth, flat meadow; looked down upon by wild hills, where the tracks +of bears and catamounts may yet sometimes be seen upon the winter +snow; facing the twin summits which rise in the far North, the highest +waves of the great land storm in this billowy region--suggestive to +mad fancies of the breasts of a half-buried Titaness, stretched out by +a stray thunderbolt, and hastily hidden away beneath the leaves of +the forest--in that home where seven blest summers were passed, which +stand in memory like the seven golden candlesticks in the beatific +vision of the holy dreamer-- + +"--in that modest dwelling we were just looking at, not glorious, yet +not unlovely in the youth of its drab and mahogany--full of great and +little boys' playthings from top to bottom--in all these summer or +winter nests he was always at home and always welcome. + +"This long articulated sigh of reminiscences--this calenture which +shows me the maple-shadowed plains of Berkshire and the +mountain-circled green of Grafton beneath the salt waves that come +feeling their way along the wall at my feet, restless and +soft-touching as blind men's busy fingers--is for that friend of mine +who looks into the waters of the Patapsco and sees beneath them the +same visions that paint themselves for me in the green depths of the +Charles." + +Did I talk all this off to the schoolmistress? Why, no--of course not. +I have been talking with you, the reader, for the last ten minutes. +You don't think I should expect any woman to listen to such a sentence +as that long one, without giving her a chance to put in a word? + +What did I say to the schoolmistress? Permit me one moment. I don't +doubt your delicacy and good-breeding; but in this particular case, as +I was allowed the privilege of walking alone with a very interesting +young woman, you must allow me to remark, in the classic version of a +familiar phrase, used by our Master Benjamin Franklin, it is _nullum +tui negotii_. + +When the schoolmistress and I reached the schoolroom door, the damask +roses I spoke of were so much heightened in color by exercise that I +felt sure it would be useful to her to take a stroll like this every +morning, and made up my mind I would ask her to let me join her again. + + + + +IV + +OF WOMEN WHO PUT ON AIRS[14] + + +I can't say just how many walks she (the schoolmistress) and I had +taken together before this one. I found the effect of going out every +morning was decidedly favorable on her health. Two pleasing dimples, +the places for which were just marked when she came, played, shadowy, +in her freshening cheeks when she smiled and nodded good-morning to me +from the schoolhouse steps. + +[Footnote 14: From Part XI of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." +Published by Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +I am afraid I did the greater part of the talking. At any rate, if I +should try to report all that I said during the first half-dozen walks +we took together, I fear that I might receive a gentle hint from my +friends the publishers that a separate volume, at my own risk and +expense, would be the proper method of bringing them before the +public. + +I would have a woman as true as death. At the first real lie which +works from the heart outward she should be tenderly chloroformed into +a better world, where she can have an angel for a governess, and feed +on strange fruits which will make her all over again, even to her +bones and marrow. Whether gifted with the accident of beauty or not, +she should have been molded in the rose-red clay of love before the +breath of life made a moving mortal of her. Love capacity is a +congenital endowment; and I think, after a while, one gets to know the +warm-hued natures it belongs to from the pretty pipe-clay counterfeits +of it. Proud she may be, in the sense of respecting herself; but +pride, in the sense of contemning others less gifted than herself, +deserves the two lowest circles of a vulgar woman's Inferno, where the +punishments are smallpox and bankruptcy. She who nips off the end of a +brittle courtesy, as one breaks the tip of an icicle, to bestow upon +those whom she ought cordially and kindly to recognize, proclaims the +fact that she comes not merely of low blood, but of bad blood. +Consciousness of unquestioned position makes people gracious in proper +measure to all; but if a woman puts on airs with her real equals, she +has something about herself or her family she is ashamed of, or ought +to be. Middle, and more than middle-aged people, who know family +histories, generally see through it. An official of standing was rude +to me once. "Oh, that is the maternal grandfather," said a wise old +friend to me, "he was a boor." Better too few words, from the woman we +love, than too many: while she is silent, Nature is working for her; +while she talks, she is working for herself. Love is sparingly soluble +in the words of men; therefore they speak much of it; but one +syllable of woman's speech can dissolve more of it than a man's heart +can hold. + +Whether I said any or all of these things to the schoolmistress or +not--whether I stole them put of Lord Bacon--whether I cribbed them +from Balzac--whether I dipt them from the ocean of Tupperian +wisdom--or whether I have just found them in my head (laid there by +that solemn fowl, Experience, who, according to my observation, +cackles oftener than she drops real, live eggs), I can not say. Wise +men have said more foolish things--and foolish men, I don't doubt, +have said as wise things. Anyhow, the schoolmistress and I had +pleasant walks and long talks, all of which I do not feel bound to +report. + +You are a stranger to me, Ma'am.--I don't doubt you would like to know +all I said to the schoolmistress.--I shan't do it; I had rather get +the publishers to return the money you have invested in this. Besides, +I have forgotten a good deal of it. I shall tell only what I like of +what I remember. + + + + +MARGARET FULLER + + Born in Massachusetts in 1810; lost in a shipwreck off Fire + Island in 1850; edited _The Dial_ in 1840-42; literary + critic for the New York _Tribune_ in 1844-46; went to Europe + in 1846; married the Marquis d'Ossoli in 1847; in Rome + during the Revolution of 1848-49; published "A Summer on the + Lakes" in 1843, "Woman in the Nineteenth Century" in 1845, + "Papers on Art and Literature" in 1846. + + + + +I + +HER VISIT TO GEORGE SAND[15] + + +It is the custom to go and call on those to whom you bring letters, +and push yourself upon their notice; thus you must go quite ignorant +whether they are disposed to be cordial. My name is always murdered by +the foreign servants who announce me. I speak very bad French; only +lately have I had sufficient command of it to infuse some of my +natural spirit in my discourse. This has been a great trial to me, who +am eloquent and free in my own tongue, to be forced to feel my +thoughts struggling in vain for utterance. + +[Footnote 15: From a letter to Elizabeth Hoar, written in 1847 and +printed in the "Memoirs."] + +The servant who admitted me was in the picturesque costume of a +peasant, and as Madame Sand afterward told me, her goddaughter, whom +she had brought from her province. She announced me as "Madame +Salère," and returned into the anteroom to tell me, "Madame says she +does not know you." I began to think I was doomed to rebuff among the +crowd who deserve it. However, to make assurance sure, I said, "Ask if +she has received a letter from me." As I spoke Madame Sand opened the +door, and stood looking at me an instant. Our eyes met. + +I never shall forget her look at that moment. The doorway made a frame +for her figure; she is large but well formed. She was drest in a robe +of dark-violet silk, with a black mantle on her shoulders, her +beautiful hair drest with the greatest taste; her whole appearance and +attitude, in its simple and ladylike dignity, presented an almost +ludicrous contrast to the vulgar caricature idea of George Sand. Her +face is a very little like the portraits, but much finer; the upper +part of the forehead and eyes are beautiful, the lower strong and +masculine, expressive of a hardy temperament and strong passions, but +not in the least coarse; the complexion olive, and the air of the +whole head Spanish (as, indeed, she was born at Madrid, and is only on +one side of French blood). + +All these I saw at a glance; but what fixt my attention was the +expression of goodness, nobleness, and power that pervaded the +whole--the truly human heart and nature that shone in the eyes. As our +eyes met, she said, "_C'est vous_," and held out her hand. I took it, +and went into her little study; we sat down a moment; then I said, +"_Il me fait de bien de vous voir_," and I am sure I said it with my +whole heart, for it made me very happy to see such a woman, so large +and so developed in character, and everything that is good in it so +really good. I loved, shall always love her. + +She looked away, and said, _"Ah! vous m'avez écrit une lettre +charmante_." This was all the preliminary of our talk, which then went +on as if we had always known one another.... Her way of talking is +just like her writing--lively, picturesque, with an undertone of deep +feeling, and the same happiness in striking the nail on the head every +now and then with a blow.... I heartily enjoyed the sense of so rich, +so prolific, so ardent a genius. I liked the woman in her, too, very +much; I never liked a woman better.... For the rest, she holds her +place in the literary and social world of France like a man, and seems +full of energy and courage in it. I suppose she has suffered much, but +she has also enjoyed and done much. + + + + +II + +TWO GLIMPSES OF CARLYLE[16] + + +Of the people I saw in London you will wish me to speak first of the +Carlyles. Mr. Carlyle came to see me at once, and appointed an evening +to be passed at their house. That first time I was delighted with him. +He was in a very sweet humor--full of wit and pathos, without being +overbearing or oppressive. I was quite carried away with the rich +flow of his discourse; and the hearty, noble earnestness of his +personal being brought back the charm which once was upon his writing, +before I wearied of it. I admired his Scotch, his way of singing his +great full sentences, so that each one was like the stanza of a +narrative ballad. He let me talk, now and then, enough to free my +lungs and change my position, so that I did not get tired. That +evening he talked of the present state of things in England, giving +light, witty sketches of the men of the day, fanatics and others, and +some sweet, homely stories he told of things he had known of the +Scotch peasantry. Of you he spoke with hearty kindness; and he told +with beautiful feeling a story of some poor farmer or artizan in the +country, who on Sunday lays aside the cark and care of that dirty +English world, and sits reading the "Essays" and looking upon the +sea.... + +[Footnote 16: From a letter to Emerson, written in 1846, and printed +in the "Memoirs."] + +The second time Mr. Carlyle had a dinner party, at which was a witty, +French, flippant sort of a man, named Lewes,[17] author of a "History +of Philosophy," and now writing a life of Goethe, a task for which he +must be as unfit as irreligion and sparkling shallowness can make him. +But he told stories admirably, and was allowed sometimes to interrupt +Carlyle a little--of which one was glad, for that night he was in his +acrid mood; and tho much more brilliant than on the former evening, +grew wearisome to me, who disclaimed and rejected almost everything +he said.... + +[Footnote 17: George Henry Lewes, whose relations to George Eliot +began after Margaret Fuller's visit. Lewes was not a Frenchman, but of +Welsh descent, born in London, and a grandson of Charles Lee Lewes, +the actor.] + +Accustomed to the infinite wit and exuberant richness of his writings, +his talk is still an amazement and a splendor scarcely to be faced +with steady eyes. He does not converse, only harangues. It is the +usual misfortune of such marked men--happily not one invariable or +inevitable--that they can not allow other minds room to breathe, and +show themselves in their atmosphere, and thus miss the refreshment and +instruction which the greatest never cease to need from the experience +of the humblest. Carlyle allows no one a chance, but bears down all +opposition, not only by his wit and onset of words, resistless in +their sharpness as so many bayonets, but by actual physical +superiority--raising his voice and rushing on his opponent with a +torrent of sound. This is not in the least from unwillingness to allow +freedom to others. On the contrary, no man would more enjoy a manly +resistance in his thoughts. But it is the impulse of a mind accustomed +to follow out its own impulse, as the hawk its prey, and which knows +not how to stop in the chase. + +Carlyle indeed is arrogant and overbearing; but in his arrogance there +is no littleness, no self-love. It is the heroic arrogance of some old +Scandinavian conqueror; it is his nature, and the untamable impulse +that has given him power to crush the dragons. He sings rather than +talks. He pours upon you a kind of satirical, heroical, critical poem, +with regular cadences, and generally catching up, near the beginning, +some singular epithet which serves as a refrain when his song is +full, or with which, as with a knitting-needle, he catches up the +stitches, if he has chanced now and then to let fall a row. For the +higher kinds of poetry he has no sense, and his talk on that subject +is delightfully and gorgeously absurd. He sometimes stops a minute to +laugh at it himself, then begins anew with fresh vigor; for all the +spirits he is driving before him as Fata Morgana,[18] ugly masks, in +fact, if he can but make them turn about; but he laughs that they seem +to others such dainty Ariels. His talk, like his books, is full of +pictures; his critical strokes masterly. Allow for his point of view, +and his survey is admirable. He is a large subject. I can not speak +more or wiselier of him now, nor needs it; his works are true, to +blame and praise him--the Siegfried of England, great and powerful, if +not quite invulnerable, and of a might rather to destroy evil than +legislate for good. + +[Footnote 18: Fata (a fairy) Morgana, sister of King Arthur, is a +leading figure in the "Morte d'Arthur" and other romances, including +Italian.] + + + + +HORACE GREELEY + + Born in New Hampshire in 1811, died in 1872; came to New + York in 1831, where he edited the _Log Cabin_ during the + Harrison-Tyler campaign; in 1841 founded _The Tribune;_ + member of Congress in 1848-49; prominent as an anti-slavery + leader and supporter of the Union cause; nominated for + president by the Liberal-Republican and Democratic parties + in 1872, but defeated by Gen. Grant; published + "Recollections of a Busy Life" in 1868, and "The American + Conflict" in 1864-66. + + + + +I + +THE FATALITY OF SELF-SEEKING IN EDITORS AND AUTHORS[19] + + +It only remains to me to speak more especially of my own vocation--the +editor's--which bears much the same relation to the author's that the +bellows-blower's bears to the organist's, the player's to the +dramatist's, Julian or Liszt to Weber or Beethoven. The editor, from +the absolute necessity of the case, can not speak deliberately; he +must write to-day of to-day's incidents and aspects, tho these may be +completely overlaid and transformed by the incidents and aspects of +to-morrow. He must write and strive in the full consciousness that +whatever honor or distinction he may acquire must perish with the +generation that bestowed them--with the thunders of applause that +greeted Kemble or Jenny Lind, with the ruffianism that expelled +Macready, or the cheerful laugh that erewhile rewarded the sallies of +Burton or Placide.[20] + +[Footnote 19: Printed with the "Miscellanies" In the "Recollections of +a Busy Life."] + +[Footnote 20: Henry Placide, an American actor born in Charleston, who +excelled in the parts of Sir Peter Teazle and Sir Anthony Absolute.] + +No other public teacher lives so wholly in the present as the editor; +and the noblest affirmations of unpopular truth--the most +self-sacrificing defiance of a base and selfish public sentiment that +regards only the most sordid ends, and values every utterance solely +as it tends to preserve quiet and contentment, while the dollars fall +jingling into the merchant's drawer, the land-jobber's vault, and the +miser's bag--can but be noted in their day, and with their day +forgotten. It is his cue to utter silken and smooth sayings--to +condemn vice so as not to interfere with the pleasures or alarm the +conscience of the vicious--to praise and champion liberty so as not to +give annoyance or offense to slavery, and to commend and glorify labor +without attempting to expose or repress any of the gainful +contrivances by which labor is plundered and degraded. Thus sidling +dextrously between somewhere and nowhere, the able editor of the +nineteenth century may glide through life respectable and in good +ease, and lie down to his long rest with the non-achievements of his +life emblazoned on the very whitest marble, surmounting and glorifying +his dust. + +There is a different and sterner path--I know not whether there be any +now qualified to tread it--I am not sure that even one has ever +followed it implicitly, in view of the certain meagerness of its +temporal rewards and the haste wherewith any fame acquired in a sphere +so thoroughly ephemeral as the editor's must be shrouded by the dark +waters of oblivion. This path demands an ear ever open to the plaints +of the wronged and the suffering, tho they can never repay advocacy, +and those who mainly support newspapers will be annoyed and often +exposed by it; a heart as sensitive to oppression and degradation in +the next street as if they were practised in Brazil or Japan; a pen as +ready to expose and reprove the crimes whereby wealth is amassed and +luxury enjoyed in our own country at this hour as if they had only +been committed by Turks or pagans in Asia some centuries ago. + +Such an editor, could one be found or trained, need not expect to lead +an easy, indolent, or wholly joyous life--to be blest by archbishops +or followed by the approving shouts of ascendent majorities; but he +might find some recompense for their loss in the calm verdict of an +approving conscience; and the tears of the despised and the +friendless, preserved from utter despair by his efforts and +remonstrances, might freshen for a season the daisies that bloomed +above his grave. + +Literature is a noble calling, but only when the call obeyed by the +aspirant issues from a world to be enlightened and blest, not from a +void stomach clamoring to be gratified and filled. Authorship is a +royal priesthood; but wo to him who rashly lays unhallowed hands on +the ark or the altar, professing a zeal for the welfare of the race +only that he may secure the confidence and sympathies of others, and +use them for his own selfish ends! If a man have no heroism in his +soul--no animating purpose beyond living easily and faring +sumptuously--I can imagine no greater mistake on his part than that of +resorting to authorship as a vocation. That such a one may achieve +what he regards as success I do not deny; but, if so, he does it at +greater risk and by greater exertion than would have been required to +win it in any other pursuit. No; it can not be wise in a selfish, or +sordid, or sensual man to devote himself to literature; the fearful +self-exposure incident to this way of life--the dire necessity which +constrains the author to stamp his own essential portrait on every +volume of his works, no matter how carefully he may fancy he has +erased, or how artfully he may suppose he has concealed it--this +should repel from the vestibule of the temple of fame the foot of +every profane or mocking worshiper. + +But if you are sure that your impulse is not personal nor sinister, +but a desire to serve and ennoble your race, rather than to dazzle and +be served by it; that you are ready joyfully to "scorn delights, and +live laborious days," so that thereby the well-being of mankind may be +promoted--then I pray you not to believe that the world is too wise to +need further enlightenment, nor that it would be impossible for one so +humble as yourself to say aught whereby error may be dispelled or good +be diffused. Sell not your integrity; barter not your independence; +beg of no man the privilege of earning a livelihood by authorship; +since that is to degrade your faculty, and very probably to corrupt +it; but seeing through your own clear eyes, and uttering the impulses +of your own honest heart, speak or write as truth and love shall +dictate, asking no material recompense, but living by the labor of +your hands, until recompense shall be voluntarily tendered to secure +your service, and you may frankly accept it without a compromise of +your integrity or a peril to your freedom. Soldier in the long warfare +for man's rescue from darkness and evil, choose not your place on the +battle-field, but joyfully accept that assigned you; asking not +whether there be higher or lower, but only whether it is here that you +can most surely do your proper work, and meet your full share of the +responsibility and the danger. + +Believe not that the heroic age is no more; since to that age is only +requisite the heroic purpose and the heroic soul. So long as ignorance +and evil shall exist so long there will be work for the devoted, and +so long will there be room in the ranks of those who, defying obloquy, +misapprehension, bigotry, and interested craft, struggle and dare for +the redemption of the world. "Of making many books there is no end," +tho there is happily a speedy end of most books after they are made; +but he who by voice or pen strikes his best blow at the impostures and +vices whereby our race is debased and paralyzed may close his eyes in +death, consoled and cheered by the reflection that he has done what he +could for the emancipation and elevation of his kind. + + + + +JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY + + Born in 1814, died in 1877; graduated from Harvard in 1831; + studied at Göttingen and Berlin; returned to America in 1834 + and admitted to the bar, but soon took up the study of + history; United States minister to Austria in 1861-68, and + to Great Britain in 1869-70; published his "Rise of the + Dutch Republic" in 1856, "History of the United Netherlands" + in 1860-67, and "John of Barneveld" in 1874. + + + + +I + +CHARLES V AND PHILIP II IN BRUSSELS[21] + +(1555) + + +The Emperor, like many potentates before and since, was fond of great +political spectacles. He knew their influence upon the masses of +mankind. Altho plain even to shabbiness in his own costume, and +usually attired in black, no one ever understood better than he how to +arrange such exhibitions in a striking and artistic style. We have +seen the theatrical and imposing manner in which he quelled the +insurrection at Ghent, and nearly crusht the life forever out of that +vigorous and turbulent little commonwealth. The closing scene of his +long and energetic reign he had now arranged with profound study, and +with an accurate knowledge of the manner in which the requisite +effects were to be produced. The termination of his own career, the +opening of his beloved Philip's, were to be dramatized in a manner +worthy the august characters of the actors, and the importance of the +great stage where they played their parts. The eyes of the whole world +were directed upon that day toward Brussels; for an imperial +abdication was an event which had not, in the sixteenth century, been +staled by custom. + +[Footnote 21: From Chapter I of the "The Rise of the Dutch Republic." +Published by Harper & Brothers. After his abdication Charles V retired +to a monastery, where he died three years later.] + +The gay capital of Brabant--of that province which rejoiced in the +liberal constitution known by the cheerful title of the "joyful +entrance"--was worthy to be the scene of the imposing show. Brussels +had been a city for more than five centuries, and at that day numbered +about one hundred thousand inhabitants. Its walls, six miles in +circumference, were already two hundred years old. Unlike most +Netherland cities, lying usually upon extensive plains, it was built +along the sides of an abrupt promontory. A wide expanse of living +verdure--cultivated gardens, shady groves, fertile cornfields--flowed +round it like a sea. The foot of the town was washed by the little +river Senne, while the irregular but picturesque streets rose up the +steep sides of the hill like the semicircles and stairways of an +amphitheater. Nearly in the heart of the place rose the audacious and +exquisitely embroidered tower of the town-house, three hundred and +sixty-six feet in height; a miracle of needlework in stone, rivaling +in its intricate carving the cobweb tracery of that lace which has for +centuries been synonymous with the city, and rearing itself above a +façade of profusely decorated and brocaded architecture. The crest of +the elevation was crowned by the towers of the old ducal palace of +Brabant, with its extensive and thickly wooded park on the left, and +by the stately mansions of Orange, Egmont, Aremberg, Culemburg, and +other Flemish grandees, on the right.... + +The palace where the states-general were upon this occasion convened +had been the residence of the dukes of Brabant since the days of John +the Second, who had built it about the year 1300. It was a spacious +and convenient building, but not distinguished for the beauty of its +architecture. In front was a large open square, enclosed by an iron +railing; in the rear an extensive and beautiful park, filled with +forest trees, and containing gardens and labyrinths, fish-ponds and +game preserves, fountains and promenades, race-courses and archery +grounds. The main entrance to this edifice opened upon a spacious +hall, connected with a beautiful and symmetrical chapel. The hall was +celebrated for its size, harmonious proportions, and the richness of +its decorations. It was the place where the chapters of the famous +order of the Golden Fleece were held. Its walls were hung with a +magnificent tapestry of Arras, representing the life and achievements +of Gideon the Midianite, and giving particular prominence to the +miracle of the "fleece of wool," vouchsafed to that renowned champion, +the great patron of the Knights of the Fleece. + +On the present occasion there were various additional embellishments +of flowers and votive garlands. At the western end a spacious platform +or stage, with six or seven steps, had been constructed, below which +was a range of benches for the deputies of the seventeen provinces. +Upon the stage itself there were rows of seats, covered with tapestry, +upon the right hand and upon the left. These were respectively to +accommodate the knights of the order and the guests of high +distinction. In the rear of these were other benches for the members +of the three great councils. In the center of the stage was a splendid +canopy, decorated with the arms of Burgundy, beneath which were placed +three gilded arm-chairs. All the seats upon the platform were vacant; +but the benches below, assigned to the deputies of the provinces, were +already filled. Numerous representatives from all the States but +two--Gelderland and Overyssel--had already taken their places. Grave +magistrates in chain and gown, and executive officers in the splendid +civic uniforms for which the Netherlands were celebrated, already +filled every seat within the space allotted. The remainder of the hall +was crowded with the more favored portion of the multitude, which had +been fortunate enough to procure admission to the exhibition. The +archers and halbardiers of the body-guard kept watch at all the doors. +The theater was filled, the audience was eager with expectation, the +actors were yet to arrive. + +As the clock struck three, the hero of the scene appeared. Cæsar, as +he was always designated in the classic language of the day, entered, +leaning on the shoulder of William of Orange. They came from the +chapel, and were immediately followed by Philip the Second and Queen +Mary of Hungary. The Archduke Maximilian, the Duke of Savoy, and +other great personages came afterward, accompanied by a glittering +throng of warriors, councilors, governors, and Knights of the Fleece. + +Many individuals of existing or future historic celebrity in the +Netherlands, whose names are so familiar to the student of the epoch, +seemed to have been grouped, as if by premeditated design, upon this +imposing platform, where the curtain was to fall forever upon the +mightiest emperor since Charlemagne, and where the opening scene of +the long and tremendous tragedy of Philip's reign was to be +simultaneously enacted. There was the bishop of Arras, soon to be +known throughout Christendom by the more celebrated title of Cardinal +Granvelle--the serene and smiling priest, whose subtle influence over +the destinies of so many individuals then present, and over the +fortunes of the whole land, was to be so extensive and so deadly. +There was that flower of Flemish chivalry, the lineal descendant of +ancient Frisian kings, already distinguished for his bravery in many +fields, but not having yet won those two remarkable victories which +were soon to make the name of Egmont like the sound of a trumpet +throughout the whole country. Tall, magnificent in costume, with dark +flowing hair, soft brown eye, smooth cheek, a slight mustache, and +features of almost feminine delicacy--such was the gallant and +ill-fated Lamoral Egmont. The Count of Hoorne,[22] too, with bold, +sullen face, and fan-shaped beard--a brave, honest, discontented, +quarrelsome, unpopular man; those other twins in doom, the Marquis +Berghen and the Lord of Montigny; the Baron Berlaymont, brave, +intensely loyal, insatiably greedy for office and wages, but who at +least never served but one party; the Duke of Arschot, who was to +serve all, essay to rule all, and to betray all--a splendid seignior, +magnificent in cramoisy velvet, but a poor creature, who traced his +pedigree from Adam according to the family monumental inscriptions at +Louvain, but who was better known as grandnephew of the Emperor's +famous tutor Chièvres; the bold, debauched Brederode, with handsome, +reckless face and turbulent demeanor; the infamous Noircarmes, whose +name was to be covered with eternal execration for aping toward his +own compatriots and kindred as much of Alva's atrocities and avarice +as he was permitted to exercise; the distinguished soldiers Meghen and +Aremberg--these, with many others whose deeds of arms were to become +celebrated throughout Europe, were all conspicuous in the brilliant +crowd. There, too, was that learned Frisian, President Viglius, +crafty, plausible, adroit, eloquent--a small, brisk man, with long +yellow hair, glittering green eyes, round, tumid, rosy cheeks, and +flowing beard. Foremost among the Spanish grandees, and close to +Philip, stood the famous favorite, Ruy Gomez, or, as he was familiarly +called, "_Re y Gomez_" (King and Gomez)--a man of meridional aspect, +with coal-black hair and beard, gleaming eyes, a face pallid with +intense application, and slender but handsome figure; while in +immediate attendance upon the Emperor was the immortal Prince of +Orange. + +[Footnote 22: See Prescott's account of the execution of Egmont and +Hoorne, in Volume IX of this collection.] + +Such were a few only of the most prominent in that gay throng, whose +fortunes in part it will be our humble duty to narrate; how many of +them passing through all this glitter to a dark and mysterious gloom! +some to perish on public scaffolds, some by midnight assassination; +others, more fortunate, to fall on the battle-field; nearly all, +sooner or later, to be laid in bloody graves! + +All the company present had risen to their feet as the Emperor +entered. By his command, all immediately after resumed their places. +The benches at either end of the platform were accordingly filled with +the royal and princely personages invited--with the Fleece Knights, +wearing the insignia of their order, with the members of the three +great councils, and with the governors. The Emperor, the King, and the +Queen of Hungary were left conspicuous in the center of the scene. As +the whole object of the ceremony was to present an impressive +exhibition, it is worth our while to examine minutely the appearance +of the two principal characters. + +Charles the Fifth was then fifty-five years and eight months old; but +he was already decrepit with premature old age. He was of about the +middle height; and had been athletic and well proportioned. Broad in +the shoulders, deep in the chest, thin in the flank, very muscular in +the arms and legs, he had been able to match himself with all +competitors in the tourney and the ring, and to vanquish the bull with +his own hand in the favorite national amusement of Spain. He had been +able in the field to do the duty of captain and soldier, to endure +fatigue and exposure, and every privation except fasting. These +personal advantages were now departed. Crippled in hands, knees, and +legs, he supported himself with difficulty upon a crutch, with the aid +of an attendant's shoulder. In face he had always been extremely ugly, +and time had certainly not improved his physiognomy. His hair, once of +a light color, was now white with age, close-clipt and bristling; his +beard was gray, coarse, and shaggy. His forehead was spacious and +commanding; the eye was dark-blue, with an expression both majestic +and benignant. His nose was aquiline but crooked. The lower part of +his face was famous for its deformity. The under lip, a Burgundian +inheritance, as faithfully transmitted as the duchy and county, was +heavy and hanging; the lower jaw protruding so far beyond the upper +that it was impossible for him to bring together the few fragments of +teeth which still remained, or to speak a whole sentence in an +intelligible voice. Eating and talking, occupations to which he was +always much addicted, were becoming daily more arduous in consequence +of this original defect; which now seemed hardly human, but rather an +original deformity. + +So much for the father. The son, Philip the Second, was a small, +meager man, much below the middle height, with thin legs, a narrow +chest, and the shrinking, timid air of a habitual invalid. He seemed +so little upon his first visit to his aunts, the Queens Eleanor and +Mary, accustomed to look upon proper men in Flanders and Germany, that +he was fain to win their favor by making certain attempts in the +tournament, in which his success was sufficiently problematical. "His +body," says his profest panegyrist, "was but a human cage, in which, +however brief and narrow, dwelt a soul to whose flight the +immeasurable expanse of heaven was too contracted." The same wholesale +admirer adds that "his aspect was so reverend that rustics who met him +alone in the wood, without knowing him, bowed down with instinctive +veneration." In face he was the living image of his father; having the +same broad forehead and blue eye, with the same aquiline, but better +proportioned, nose. In the lower part of the countenance the +remarkable Burgundian deformity was likewise reproduced: he had the +same heavy, hanging lip, with a vast mouth, and monstrously protruding +lower jaw. His complexion was fair, his hair light and thin, his beard +yellow, short, and pointed. He had the aspect of a Fleming, but the +loftiness of a Spaniard. His demeanor in public was still, silent, +almost sepulchral. He looked habitually on the ground when he +conversed, was chary of speech, embarrassed and even suffering in +manner. This was ascribed partly to a natural haughtiness, which he +had occasionally endeavored to overcome, and partly to habitual pains +in the stomach, occasioned by his inordinate fondness for pastry. + +Such was the personal appearance of the man who was about to receive +into his single hand the destinies of half the world; whose single +will was, for the future, to shape the fortunes of every individual +then present, of many millions more in Europe, America, and at the +ends of the earth, and of countless millions yet unborn.... + +The Emperor then rose to his feet. Leaning on his crutch, he beckoned +from his seat the personage upon whose arm he had leaned as he +entered the hall. A tall, handsome youth of twenty-two came forward: a +man whose name from that time forward, and as long as history shall +endure, has been and will be more familiar than any other in the +mouths of Netherlanders. At that day he had rather a southern than a +German or Flemish appearance. He had a Spanish cast of features, dark, +well chiseled, and symmetrical. His head was small and well placed +upon his shoulders. His hair was dark brown, as were also his mustache +and peaked beard. His forehead was lofty, spacious, and already +prematurely engraved with the anxious lines of thought. His eyes were +full, brown, well opened, and expressive of profound reflection. He +was drest in the magnificent apparel for which the Netherlanders were +celebrated above all other nations, and which the ceremony rendered +necessary. His presence being considered indispensable at this great +ceremony, he had been summoned but recently from the camp on the +frontier, where, notwithstanding his youth, the Emperor had appointed +him to command his army in chief against such antagonists as Admiral +Coligny and the Duc de Nevers. + +Thus supported upon his crutch and upon the shoulder of William of +Orange, the Emperor proceeded to address the States, by the aid of a +closely written brief which he held in his hand. He reviewed rapidly +the progress of events from his seventeenth year up to that day. +Turning to Philip, he observed that for a dying father to bequeath so +magnificent an empire to his son was a deed worthy of gratitude; but +that when the father thus descended to the grave before his time, and +by an anticipated and living burial sought to provide for the welfare +of his realms and the grandeur of his son, the benefit thus conferred +was surely far greater. He added that the debt would be paid to him +and with usury, should Philip conduct himself in his administration of +the province with a wise and affectionate regard to their true +interests.... + +Sobs were heard throughout every portion of the hall, and tears poured +profusely from every eye. The Fleece Knights on the platform and the +burghers in the background were all melted with the same emotion. As +for the Emperor himself, he sank almost fainting upon his chair as he +concluded his address. An ashy paleness overspread his countenance, +and he wept like a child. Even the icy Philip was almost softened, as +he rose to perform his part in the ceremony. Dropping upon his knees +before his father's feet, he reverently kissed his hand. Charles +placed his hands solemnly upon his son's head, made the sign of the +cross, and blest him in the name of the Holy Trinity. Then raising him +in his arms he tenderly embraced him, saying, as he did so, to the +great potentates around him, that he felt a sincere compassion for the +son on whose shoulders so heavy a weight had just devolved, and which +only a lifelong labor would enable him to support.... + +The orations and replies having now been brought to a close, the +ceremony was terminated. The Emperor, leaning on the shoulders of the +Prince of Orange and of the Count de Buren, slowly left the hall, +followed by Philip, the Queen of Hungary, and the whole court; all in +the same order in which they had entered, and by the same passage into +the chapel. + + + + +II + +THE ARRIVAL OF THE SPANISH ARMADA[23] + +(1588) + + +Almost at that very instant intelligence had been brought from the +court to the Lord Admiral at Plymouth that the Armada, dispersed and +shattered by the gales of June, was not likely to make its appearance +that year; and orders had consequently been given to disarm the four +largest ships and send them into dock. Even Walsingham had +participated in this strange delusion. + +[Footnote 23: From Chapter XIX of the "History of the United +Netherlands." Published by Harper & Brothers. See Hume's account of +the arrival of the Armada in Volume IV, page 113, of this collection.] + +Before Howard[24] had time to act upon this ill-timed suggestion--even +had he been disposed to do so--he received authentic intelligence that +the great fleet was off the Lizard. Neither he nor Francis Drake were +the men to lose time in such an emergency; and before that Friday +night was spent, sixty of the best English ships had been warped out +of Plymouth harbor. + +[Footnote 24: Lord Howard of Effingham, commander of the English +fleet.] + +On Saturday, 30th July, the wind was very light at southwest, with a +mist and drizzling rain; but by three in the afternoon the two fleets +could descry and count each other through the haze. + +By nine o'clock, 31st July, about two miles from Looe on the Cornish +coast, the fleets had their first meeting. There were one hundred and +thirty-six sail of the Spaniards, of which ninety were large ships; +and sixty-seven of the English. It was a solemn moment. The +long-expected Armada presented a pompous, almost a theatrical +appearance. The ships seemed arranged for a pageant, in honor of a +victory already won. Disposed in form of a crescent, the horns of +which were seven miles asunder, those gilded, towered, floating +castles, with their gaudy standards and their martial music, moved +slowly along the channel, with an air of indolent pomp. Their +captain-general, the golden duke, stood in his private shot-proof +fortress, on the deck of his great galleon the _St. Martin_, +surrounded by generals of infantry and colonels of cavalry, who knew +as little as he did himself of naval matters. + +The English vessels, on the other hand--with a few exceptions light, +swift, and easily handled--could sail round and round those unwieldy +galleons, hulks, and galleys rowed by fettered slave gangs. The +superior seamanship of free Englishmen commanded by such experienced +captains as Drake, Frobisher,[25] and Hawkins[26]--from infancy at +home on blue water--was manifest in the very first encounter. They +obtained the weather-gage at once, and cannonaded the enemy at +intervals with considerable effect; easily escaping at will out of +range of the sluggish Armada, which was incapable of bearing sail in +pursuit, altho provided with an armament which could sink all its +enemies at close quarters. "We had some small fight with them that +Sunday afternoon," said Hawkins. + +[Footnote 25: Sir Martin Frobisher, who in 1576 commanded an +expedition in search of the Northwest Passage, and discovered the bay +since called after him.] + +[Footnote 26: Sir John Hawkins at this time was a rear-admiral. He was +knighted after the defeat of the Armada.] + +Medina Sidonia[27] hoisted the royal standard at the fore; and the +whole fleet did its utmost, which was little, to offer general battle. +It was in vain. The English, following at the heels of the enemy, +refused all such invitations, and attacked only the rear-guard of the +Armada, where Recalde commanded. That admiral, steadily maintaining +his post, faced his nimble antagonists, who continued to tease, to +maltreat, and to elude him, while the rest of the fleet proceeded +slowly up the Channel closely followed by the enemy. And thus the +running fight continued along the coast, in full view of Plymouth, +whence boats with reenforcements and volunteers were perpetually +arriving to the English ships, until the battle had drifted quite out +of reach of the town. + +[Footnote 27: The Duke of Medina Sidonia, who commanded the Armada.] + +Already in this first "small fight" the Spaniards had learned a +lesson, and might even entertain a doubt of their invincibility. But +before the sun set there were more serious disasters. Much powder and +shot had been expended by the Spaniard to very little purpose, and so +a master-gunner on board Admiral Oquendo's flag-ship was reprimanded +for careless ball-practise. The gunner, who was a Fleming, enraged +with his captain, laid a train to the powder-magazine, fired it, and +threw himself into the sea. Two decks blew up. The great castle at the +stern rose into clouds, carrying with it the paymaster-general of the +fleet, a large portion of treasure, and nearly two hundred men. The +ship was a wreck, but it was possible to save the rest of the crew. So +Medina Sidonia sent light vessels to remove them, and wore with his +flag-ship to defend Oquendo, who had already been fastened upon by his +English pursuers. But the Spaniards, not being so light in hand as +their enemies, involved themselves in much embarrassment by their +maneuver, and there was much falling foul of each other, entanglement +of rigging, and carrying away of yards. Oquendo's men, however, were +ultimately saved and taken to other ships. + +Meantime Don Pedro de Valdez, commander of the Andalusian squadron, +having got his galleon into collision with two or three Spanish ships +successively, had at last carried away his foremast close to the deck, +and the wreck had fallen against his main-mast. He lay crippled and +helpless, the Armada was slowly deserting him, night was coming on, +the sea was running high, and the English, ever hovering near, were +ready to grapple with him. In vain did Don Pedro fire signals of +distress. The captain-general--even as tho the unlucky galleon had not +been connected with the Catholic fleet--calmly fired a gun to collect +his scattered ships, and abandoned Valdez to his fate. "He left me +comfortless in sight of the whole fleet," said poor Pedro; "and +greater inhumanity and unthankfulness I think was never heard of among +men." + +Yet the Spaniard comported himself most gallantly. Frobisher, in the +largest ship of the English fleet, the _Triumph_, of eleven hundred +tons, and Hawkins in the _Victory_, of eight hundred, cannonaded him +at a distance, but night coming on, he was able to resist; and it was +not till the following morning that he surrendered to the _Revenge_. + +Drake then received the gallant prisoner on board his flag-ship--much +to the disgust and indignation of Frobisher and Hawkins, thus +disappointed of their prize and ransom money--treated him with much +courtesy, and gave his word of honor that he and his men should be +treated fairly like good prisoners of war. This pledge was redeemed; +for it was not the English, as it was the Spanish custom, to convert +captives into slaves, but only to hold them for ransom. Valdez +responded to Drake's politeness by kissing his hand, embracing him, +and overpowering him with magnificent compliments. He was then sent on +board the Lord Admiral, who received him with similar urbanity, and +exprest his regret that so distinguished a personage should have been +so coolly deserted by the Duke of Medina. Don Pedro then returned to +the _Revenge_, where, as the guest of Drake, he was a witness to all +subsequent events up to the 10th of August; on which day he was sent +to London with some other officers, Sir Francis claiming his ransom as +his lawful due. + +Here certainly was no very triumphant beginning for the Invincible Armada. +On the very first day of their being in presence of the English fleet--then +but sixty-seven in number, and vastly their inferior in size and weight of +metal--they had lost the flagships of the Guipuzcoan and of the Andalusian +squadrons, with a general-admiral, four hundred and fifty officers and men, +and some one hundred thousand ducats of treasure. They had been +outmaneuvered, outsailed, and thoroughly maltreated by their antagonists, +and they had been unable to inflict a single blow in return. Thus the +"small fight" had been a cheerful one for the opponents of the Inquisition, +and the English were proportionally encouraged.... + +Never, since England was England, had such a sight been seen as now +revealed itself in those narrow straits between Dover and Calais. +Along that long, low, sandy shore, and quite within the range of the +Calais fortifications, one hundred and thirty Spanish ships--the +greater number of them the largest and most heavily armed in the +world--lay face to face, and scarcely out of cannon-shot, with one +hundred and fifty English sloops and frigates, the strongest and +swiftest that the island could furnish, and commanded by men whose +exploits had rung through the world. + +Farther along the coast, invisible, but known to be performing a most +perilous and vital service, was a squadron of Dutch vessels of all +sizes, lining both the inner and outer edges of the sandbanks off the +Flemish coasts, and swarming in all the estuaries and inlets of that +intricate and dangerous cruising-ground between Dunkirk and +Walcheren. Those fleets of Holland and Zeeland, numbering some one +hundred and fifty galleons, sloops, and fly-boats, under Warmond, +Nassau, Van der Does, De Moor, and Rosendael, lay patiently blockading +every possible egress from Newport, or Gravelines, or Sluys, or +Flushing, or Dunkirk; and longing to grapple with the Duke of Parma, +so soon as his fleet of gunboats and hoys, packed with his Spanish and +Italian veterans, should venture to set forth upon the sea for their +long-prepared exploit. + +It was a pompous spectacle that midsummer night upon those narrow +seas. The moon, which was at the full, was rising calmly upon a scene +of anxious expectation. Would she not be looking, by the morrow's +night, upon a subjugated England, a reenslaved Holland--upon the +downfall of civil and religious liberty? Those ships of Spain, which +lay there with their banners waving in the moonlight, discharging +salvos of anticipated triumph and filling the air with strains of +insolent music--would they not, by daybreak, be moving straight to +their purpose, bearing the conquerors of the world to the scene of +their cherished hopes? + +That English fleet, too, which rode there at anchor, so anxiously on +the watch--would that swarm of nimble, lightly handled, but slender +vessels, which had held their own hitherto in hurried and desultory +skirmishes, be able to cope with their great antagonist, now that the +moment had arrived for the death grapple? Would not Howard, Drake, +Frobisher, Seymour, Winter, and Hawkins be swept out of the straits at +last, yielding an open passage to Medina, Oquendo, Recalde, and +Farnese? Would those Hollanders and Zeelanders cruising so vigilantly +among their treacherous shallows dare to maintain their post now that +the terrible "Holoferness," with his invincible legions, was resolved +to come forth? + +And the impatience of the soldiers and sailors on board the fleet was +equal to that of their commanders. There was London almost before +their eyes--a huge mass of treasure, richer and more accessible than +those mines beyond the Atlantic which had so often rewarded Spanish +chivalry with fabulous wealth. And there were men in those galleons +who remembered the sack of Antwerp eleven years before; men who could +tell, from personal experience, how helpless was a great commercial +city when once in the clutch of disciplined brigands; men who in that +dread "fury of Antwerp" had enriched themselves in an hour with the +accumulations of a merchant's lifetime, and who had slain fathers and +mothers, sons and daughters, brides and bridegrooms, before each +other's eyes, until the number of inhabitants butchered in the blazing +streets rose to many thousands, and the plunder from palaces and +warehouses was counted by millions, before the sun had set on the +"great fury." Those Spaniards, and Italians, and Walloons were now +thirsting for more gold, for more blood; and as the capital of England +was even more wealthy and far more defenseless than the commercial +metropolis of the Netherlands had been, so it was resolved that the +London "fury" should be more thorough and more productive than the +"fury of Antwerp," at the memory of which the world still shuddered. +And these professional soldiers had been taught to consider the +English as a pacific, delicate, effeminate race; dependent on good +living, without experience of war, quickly fatigued and discouraged, +and even more easily to be plundered and butchered than were the +excellent burghers of Antwerp. + +And so these southern conquerors looked down from their great galleons +and galeasses upon the English vessels. More than three-quarters of +them were merchantmen. There was no comparison whatever between the +relative strength of the fleets. In number they were about equal, +being each from one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty +strong; but the Spaniards had twice the tonnage of the English, four +times the artillery, and nearly three times the number of men.... + +As the twilight deepened, the moon became totally obscured, dark cloud +masses spread over the heavens, the sea grew black, distant thunder +rolled, and the sob of an approaching tempest became distinctly +audible. Such indications of a westerly gale were not encouraging to +those cumbrous vessels, with the treacherous quicksands of Flanders +under their lee. + +At an hour past midnight it was so dark that it was difficult for the +most practised eye to pierce far into the gloom. But a faint drip of +oars now struck the ears of the Spaniards as they watched from the +decks. A few moments afterward the sea became suddenly luminous; and +six flaming vessels appeared at a slight distance, bearing steadily +down upon them before the wind and tide. + +There were men in the Armada who had been at the siege of Antwerp +only three years before. They remembered with horror the devil-ships +of Gianibelli--those floating volcanoes which had seemed to rend earth +and ocean, whose explosion had laid so many thousands of soldiers dead +at a blow, and which had shattered the bridge and floating forts of +Farnese as tho they had been toys of glass. They knew too that the +famous engineer was at that moment in England. + +In a moment one of those horrible panics which spread with such +contagious rapidity among large bodies of men, seized upon the +Spaniards. There was a yell throughout the fleet--"The fire-ships of +Antwerp! the fire-ships of Antwerp!" and in an instant every cable was +cut, and frantic attempts were made by each galleon and galeasse to +escape what seemed imminent destruction. The confusion was beyond +description. Four or five of the largest ships became entangled with +each other. Two others were set on fire by the flaming vessels and +were consumed. Medina Sidonia, who had been warned, even before his +departure from Spain, that some such artifice would probably be +attempted, and who had even, early that morning, sent out a party of +sailors in a pinnace to search for indications of the scheme, was not +surprized or dismayed. He gave orders--as well as might be--that every +ship, after the danger should be passed, was to return to its post and +await his further orders. But it was useless in that moment of +unreasonable panic to issue commands. The despised Mantuan, who had +met with so many rebuffs at Philip's court, and who--owing to official +incredulity--had been but partially successful in his magnificent +enterprise at Antwerp, had now, by the mere terror of his name, +inflicted more damage on Philip's Armada than had hitherto been +accomplished by Howard and Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher combined. + +So long as night and darkness lasted, the confusion and uproar +continued. When the Monday morning dawned, several of the Spanish +vessels lay disabled, while the rest of the fleet was seen at a +distance of two leagues from Calais, driving toward the Flemish coast. +The threatened gale had not yet begun to blow; but there were fresh +squalls from the W. S. W., which, to such awkward sailors as the +Spanish vessels, were difficult to contend with. On the other hand, +the English fleet were all astir, and ready to pursue the Spaniards, +now rapidly drifting into the North Sea. + + + + +III + +"THE SPANISH FURY"[28] + +(1576) + + +Meantime, while the short November day was fast declining, the combat +still raged in the interior of the city (Antwerp). Various currents of +conflict, forcing their separate way through many streets, had at last +mingled in the Grande Place. Around this irregular, not very spacious +square, stood the gorgeous Hotel de Ville, and the tall, many-storied, +fantastically gabled, richly decorated palaces of the guilds. Here a +long struggle took place. It was terminated for a time by the cavalry +of Vargas, who, arriving through the streets of Saint Joris, +accompanied by the traitor Van Ende, charged decisively into the +mêlée. The masses were broken, but multitudes of armed men found +refuge in the buildings, and every house became a fortress. From every +window and balcony a hot fire was poured into the square, as, pent in +a corner, the burghers stood at last at bay. It was difficult to carry +the houses by storm, but they were soon set on fire. A large number of +sutlers and other varlets had accompanied the Spaniards from the +citadel, bringing torches and kindling materials for the express +purpose of firing the town. With great dexterity, these means were now +applied, and in a brief interval the city hall and other edifices on +the square were in flames. The conflagration spread with rapidity, +house after house, street after street, taking fire. Nearly a thousand +buildings, in the most splendid and wealthy quarter of the city, were +soon in a blaze, and multitudes of human beings were burned with them. +In the city hall many were consumed, while others leapt from the +windows to renew the combat below. The many tortuous streets which led +down a slight descent from the rear of the town-house to the quays +were all one vast conflagration. On the other side, the magnificent +cathedral, separated from the Grande Place by a single row of +buildings, was lighted up, but not attacked by the flames. The tall +spire cast its gigantic shadow across the last desperate conflict. In +the street called the Canal au Sucre, immediately behind the +town-house, there was a fierce struggle, a horrible massacre. A crowd +of burghers, grave magistrates, and such of the German soldiers as +remained alive still confronted the ferocious Spaniards. There, amid +the flaming desolation, Goswyn Verreyck, the heroic margrave of the +city, fought with the energy of hatred and despair. The burgomaster +Van der Meere lay dead at his feet; senators, soldiers, citizens fell +fast around him, and he sank at last upon a heap of slain. With him +effectual resistance ended. The remaining combatants were butchered, +or were slowly forced downward to perish in the Scheld. Women, +children, old men were killed in countless numbers, and still, through +all this havoc, directly over the heads of the struggling throng, +suspended in mid-air above the din and smoke of the conflict, there +sounded, every half-quarter of every hour, as if in gentle mockery, +from the belfry of the cathedral, the tender and melodious chimes. + +[Footnote 28: From Part IV of Chapter V of "The Rise of the Dutch +Republic." Published by Harper & Brothers. The name "Spanish Fury" was +given to the sack of Antwerp by the Spaniards.] + +Never was there a more monstrous massacre, even in the blood-stained +history of the Netherlands. It was estimated that, in the course of +this and the two following days, not less than eight thousand human +beings were murdered. The Spaniards seemed to cast off even the vizard +of humanity. Hell seemed emptied of its fiends. Night fell upon the +scene before the soldiers were masters of the city; but worse horrors +began after the contest was ended. This army of brigands had come +thither with a definite, practical purpose, for it was not +blood-thirst, nor lust, nor revenge, which had impelled them, but it +was avarice, greediness for gold. For gold they had waded through all +this blood and fire. Never had men more simplicity of purpose, more +directness in its execution. They had conquered their India at last; +its golden mines lay all before them, and every sword should open a +shaft. Riot and rape might be deferred; even murder, tho congenial to +their taste, was only subsidiary to their business. They had come to +take possession of the city's wealth, and they set themselves +faithfully to accomplish their task. For gold, infants were dashed out +of existence in their mothers' arms; for gold, parents were tortured +in their children's presence; for gold, brides were scourged to death +before their husbands' eyes. Wherever treasure was suspected, every +expedient which ingenuity, sharpened by greediness, could suggest, was +employed to extort it from its possessors. The fire, spreading more +extensively and more rapidly than had been desired through the +wealthiest quarter of the city, had unfortunately devoured a vast +amount of property. Six millions, at least, had thus been swallowed; a +destruction by which no one had profited. There was, however, much +left. The strong boxes of the merchants, the gold, silver, and +precious jewelry, the velvets, satins, brocades, laces, and similar +well concentrated and portable plunder, were rapidly appropriated. So +far the course was plain and easy, but in private houses it was more +difficult. The cash, plate, and other valuables of individuals were +not so easily discovered. + +Torture was, therefore, at once employed to discover the hidden +treasures. After all had been given, if the sum seemed too little, the +proprietors were brutally punished for their poverty or their supposed +dissimulation. A gentlewoman, named Fabry, with her aged mother and +other females of the family, had taken refuge in the cellar of her +mansion. As the day was drawing to a close, a band of plunderers +entered, who, after ransacking the house, descended to the cellarage. +Finding the door barred, they forced it open with gunpowder. The +mother, who was nearest the entrance, fell dead on the threshold. +Stepping across her mangled body, the brigands sprang upon her +daughter, loudly demanding the property which they believed to be +concealed. They likewise insisted on being informed where the master +of the house had taken refuge. Protestations of ignorance as to hidden +treasure, or the whereabouts of her husband, who, for aught she knew, +was lying dead in the streets, were of no avail. To make her more +communicative, they hanged her on a beam in the cellar, and after a +few moments cut her down before life was extinct. Still receiving no +satisfactory reply, where a satisfactory reply was impossible, they +hanged her again. Again, after another brief interval, they gave her a +second release, and a fresh interrogatory. This barbarity they +repeated several times, till they were satisfied that there was +nothing to be gained by it, while, on the other hand, they were losing +much valuable time. Hoping to be more successful elsewhere, they left +her hanging for the last time, and trooped off to fresher fields. +Strange to relate, the person thus horribly tortured survived. A +servant in her family, married to a Spanish soldier, providentially +entered the house in time to rescue her perishing mistress. She was +restored to existence, but never to reason. Her brain was hopelessly +crazed, and she passed the remainder of her life wandering about her +house, or feebly digging in her garden for the buried treasure which +she had been thus fiercely solicited to reveal. + +A wedding-feast was rudely interrupted. Two young persons, neighbors +of opulent families, had been long betrothed, and the marriage-day had +been fixt for Sunday, the fatal 4th of November. The guests were +assembled, the ceremony concluded, and the nuptial banquet in +progress, when the horrible outcries in the streets proclaimed that +the Spaniards had broken loose. Hour after hour of trembling +expectation succeeded. At last, a thundering at the gate proclaimed +the arrival of a band of brigands. Preceded by their captain, a large +number of soldiers forced their way into the house, ransacking every +chamber, no opposition being offered by the family and friends, too +few and powerless to cope with this band of well-armed ruffians. Plate +chests, wardrobes, desks, caskets of jewelry were freely offered, +eagerly accepted, but not found sufficient, and to make the luckless +wretches furnish more than they possest, the usual brutalities were +employed. The soldiers began by striking the bridegroom dead. The +bride fell shrieking into her mother's arms, whence she was torn by +the murderers, who immediately put the mother to death, and an +indiscriminate massacre then followed the fruitless attempts to +obtain by threats and torture treasure which did not exist. The bride, +who was of remarkable beauty, was carried off to the citadel. Maddened +by this last outrage, the father, who was the only man of the party +left alive, rushed upon the Spaniards. Wresting a sword from one of +the crew, the old man dealt with it so fiercely that he stretched more +than one enemy dead at his feet, but it is needless to add that he was +soon dispatched. + +Meantime, while the party were concluding the plunder of the mansion, +the bride was left in a lonely apartment of the fortress. Without +wasting time in fruitless lamentation, she resolved to quit the life +which a few hours had made so desolate. She had almost succeeded in +hanging herself with a massive gold chain which she wore, when her +captor entered the apartment. Inflamed, not with lust, but with +avarice, excited not by her charms, but by her jewelry, he rescued her +from her perilous position. He then took possession of her chain and +the other trinkets with which her wedding-dress was adorned, and +caused her to be entirely stript of her clothing. She was then +scourged with rods till her beautiful body was bathed in blood, and at +last alone, naked, nearly mad, was sent back into the city. Here the +forlorn creature wandered up and down through the blazing streets, +among the heaps of dead and dying, till she was at last put out of her +misery by a gang of soldiers. + +Such are a few isolated instances, accidentally preserved in their +details, of the general horrors inflicted on this occasion. Others +innumerable have sunk into oblivion. On the morning of the 5th of +November Antwerp presented a ghastly sight. The magnificent marble +town-house, celebrated as a "world's wonder," even in that age and +country, in which so much splendor was lavished on municipal palaces, +stood a blackened ruin--all but the walls destroyed, while its +archives, accounts, and other valuable contents had perished. The more +splendid portion of the city had been consumed, at least five hundred +palaces, mostly of marble or hammered stone, being a smoldering mass +of destruction. The dead bodies of those fallen in the massacre were +on every side, in greatest profusion around the Place de Meer, among +the Gothic pillars of the Exchange, and in the streets near the +town-house. The German soldiers lay in their armor, some with their +heads burned from their bodies, some with legs and arms consumed by +the flames through which they had fought. The Margrave Goswyn +Verreyck, the burgomaster Van der Meere, the magistrates Lancelot Van +Urselen, Nicholas Van Boekholt, and other leading citizens lay among +piles of less distinguished slain. They remained unburied until the +overseers of the poor, on whom the living had then more importunate +claims than the dead, were compelled by Roda to bury them out of the +pauper fund. The murderers were too thrifty to be at funeral charges +for their victims. The ceremony was not hastily performed, for the +number of corpses had not been completed. Two days longer the havoc +lasted in the city. Of all the crimes which men can commit, whether +from deliberate calculation or in the frenzy of passion, hardly one +was omitted, for riot, gaming, rape, which had been postponed to the +more stringent claims of robbery and murder, were now rapidly added to +the sum of atrocities. History has recorded the account indelibly on +her brazen tablets; it can be adjusted only at the judgment-seat +above. + +Of all the deeds of darkness yet compassed in the Netherlands this was +the worst. It was called The Spanish Fury, by which dread name it has +been known for ages. The city, which had been a world of wealth and +splendor, was changed to a charnel-house, and from that hour its +commercial prosperity was blasted. Other causes had silently girdled +the yet green and flourishing tree, but the Spanish Fury was the fire +which consumed it to ashes. Three thousand dead bodies were discovered +in the streets, as many more were estimated to have perished in the +Scheld, and nearly an equal number were burned or destroyed in other +ways. Eight thousand persons undoubtedly were put to death. Six +millions of property were destroyed by the fire, and at least as much +more was obtained by the Spaniards. + + + + +RICHARD HENRY DANA THE YOUNGER + + Born in Cambridge, Mass., in 1815; died in 1882; being in + ill health, shipped before the mast in 1834, making a voyage + to the Pacific, described in his book "Two Years Before the + Mast," published in 1840; one of the founders of the Free + Soil party in 1848; edited Wheaton's "Elements of + International Law," published in 1866. + + + + +A FIERCE GALE UNDER A CLEAR SKY[29] + + +We had been below but a short time before we had the usual +premonitions of a coming gale--seas washing over the whole forward +part of the vessel, and her bows beating against them with a force and +sound like the driving of piles. The watch, too, seemed very busy +trampling about decks and singing out at the ropes. A sailor can tell +by the sound what sail is coming in; and in a short time we heard the +top-gallant-sails come in, one after another, and then the flying jib. +This seemed to ease her a good deal, and we were fast going off to the +land of Nod, when--bang, bang, bang on the scuttle, and "All hands, +reef topsails, ahoy!" started us out of our berths, and it not being +very cold weather, we had nothing extra to put on, and were soon on +deck. + +[Footnote 29: From "Two Years Before the Mast."] + +I shall never forget the fineness of the sight. It was a clear and +rather a chilly night; the stars were twinkling with an intense +brightness, and as far as the eye could reach there was not a cloud +to be seen. The horizon met the sea in a defined line. A painter could +not have painted so clear a sky. There was not a speck upon it. Yet it +was blowing great guns from the northwest. When you can see a cloud to +windward, you feel that there is a place for the wind to come from; +but here it seemed to come from nowhere. No person could have told +from the heavens, by their eyesight alone, that it was not a still +summer's night. One reef after another we took in the topsails, and +before we could get them hoisted up we heard a sound like a short +quick rattling of thunder, and the jib was blown to atoms out of the +bolt-rope. We got the topsails set, and the fragments of the jib +stowed away, and the foretopmast staysail set in its place, when the +great mainsail gaped open, and the sail ripped from head to foot. "Lay +up on that main yard and furl the sail, before it blows to tatters!" +shouted the captain; and in a moment we were up, gathering the remains +of it upon the yard. We got it wrapt round the yard, and passed +gaskets over it as snugly as possible, and were just on deck again, +when with another loud rent, which was heard throughout the ship, the +foretopsail, which had been double-reefed, split in two athwartships, +just below the reef-band, from earing to earing. Here again it +was--down yard, haul out reef-tackles, and lay out upon the yard for +reefing. By hauling the reef-tackles chock-a-block we took the strain +from the other earings, and passing the close-reef earing, and +knotting the points carefully, we succeeded in setting the sail, close +reefed. + +We had but just got the rigging coiled up, and were waiting to hear +"Go below the watch!" when the main royal worked loose from the +gaskets, and blew directly out to leeward, flapping and shaking the +mast like a wand. Here was a job for somebody. The royal must come in +or be cut adrift, or the mast would be snapt short off. All the light +hands in the starboard watch were sent up one after another, but they +could do nothing with it. At length John, the tall Frenchman, the head +of the starboard watch (and a better sailor never stept upon a deck), +sprang aloft, and by the help of his long arms and legs succeeded +after a hard struggle--the sail blowing over the yard-arm to leeward, +and the skysail adrift directly over his head--in smothering it and +frapping it with long pieces of sinnet. He came very near being blown +or shaken from the yard several times, but he was a true sailor, every +finger a fish-hook. Having made the sail snug, he prepared to send the +yard down, which was a long and difficult job; for frequently he was +obliged to stop and hold on with all his might for several minutes, +the ship pitching so as to make it impossible to do anything else at +that height. The yard at length came down safe, and after it the fore +and mizzen royal yards were sent down. All hands were then sent aloft, +and for an hour or two we were hard at work, making the booms well +fast, unreefing the studding sail and royal and skysail gear, getting +rolling-ropes on the yard, setting up the weather breast-backstays, +and making other preparations for a storm. It was a fine night for a +gale, just cool and bracing enough for quick work, without being +cold, and as bright as day. It was sport to have a gale in such +weather as this. Yet it blew like a hurricane. The wind seemed to come +with a spite, an edge to it, which threatened to scrape us off the +yards. The force of the wind was greater than I had ever felt it +before; but darkness, cold, and wet are the worst parts of a storm to +a sailor. + +Having got on deck again, we looked round to see what time of night it +was, and whose watch. In a few minutes the man at the wheel struck +four bells, and we found that the other watch was out and our own half +out. Accordingly, the starboard watch went below, and left the ship to +us for a couple of hours, yet with orders to stand by for a call. + +Hardly had they got below before away went the foretopmast staysail, +blown to ribbons. This was a small sail, which we could manage in the +watch, so that we were not obliged to call up the other watch. We laid +upon the bowsprit, where we were under water half the time, and took +in the fragments of the sail; and as she must have some headsail on +her, prepared to bend another staysail. We got the new one out into +the nettings; seized on the tack, sheets, and halyards, and the hanks; +manned the halyards, cut adrift the frapping-lines, and hoisted away; +but before it was half-way up the stay it was blown all to pieces. +When we belayed the halyards, there was nothing left but the +bolt-rope. Now large eyes began to show themselves in the foresail; +and knowing that it must soon go, the mate ordered us upon the yard to +furl it. Being unwilling to call up the watch, who had been on deck +all night, he roused out the carpenter, sailmaker, cook, and steward, +and with their help we manned the foreyard, and after nearly half an +hour's struggle, mastered the sail and got it well furled round the +yard. + +The force of the wind had never been greater than at this moment. In +going up the rigging it seemed absolutely to pin us down to the +shrouds; and on the yard there was no such thing as turning a face to +windward. Yet there was no driving sleet and darkness and wet and cold +as off Cape Horn; and instead of stiff oilcloth suits, southwester +caps, and thick boots, we had on hats, round jackets, duck trousers, +light shoes, and everything light and easy. These things make a great +difference to a sailor. When we got on deck the man at the wheel +struck eight bells (four o'clock in the morning), and "All +starbowlines, ahoy!" brought the other watch up, but there was no +going below for us. The gale was now at its height, "blowing like +scissors and thumb-screws"; the captain was on deck; the ship, which +was light, rolling and pitching as tho she would shake the long sticks +out of her, and the sails were gaping open and splitting in every +direction. The mizzen-topsail, which was a comparatively new sail and +close reefed, split from head to foot in the bunt; the foretopsail +went in one rent from clew to earing, and was blowing to tatters; one +of the chain bobstays parted; the spritsailyard sprung in the slings, +the martingale had slued away off to leeward; and owing to the long +dry weather the lee rigging hung in large bights at every lurch. One +of the main-topgallant shrouds had parted; and to crown all, the +galley had got adrift and gone over to leeward, and the anchor on the +lee bow had worked loose and was thumping the side. Here was work +enough for all hands for half a day. Our gang laid out on the +mizzen-top-sailyard, and after more than half an hour's hard work +furled the sail, tho it bellied out over our heads, and again, by a +slat of the wind, blew in under the yard with a fearful jerk and +almost threw us off from the foot-ropes.... + +It was now eleven o'clock, and the watch was sent below to get +breakfast, and at eight bells (noon), as everything was snug, altho +the gale had not in the least abated, the watch was set and the other +watch and idlers sent below. For three days and three nights the gale +continued with unabated fury, and with singular regularity. There were +no lulls, and very little variation in its fierceness. Our ship, being +light, rolled so as almost to send the fore yard-arm under water, and +drifted off bodily to leeward. All this time there was not a cloud to +be seen in the sky, day or night; no, not so large as a man's hand. +Every morning the sun rose cloudless from the sea, and set again at +night in the sea in a flood of light. The stars, too, came out of the +blue one after another, night after night, unobscured, and twinkled as +clear as on a still frosty night at home, until the day came upon +them. All this time the sea was rolling in immense surges, white with +foam, as far as the eye could reach, on every side; for we were now +leagues and leagues from shore. + + + + +HENRY DAVID THOREAU + + Born in Concord, Mass., in 1817; died in 1862; graduated + from Harvard in 1837; taught school; practised surveying; + lived alone at Walden Pond in 1845-47; a friend of Emerson + and Alcott; imprisoned for refusal to pay a tax he believed + to be unjust; published "A Week on the Concord and Merrimac + Rivers" in 1849, and "Walden" in 1854; "Excursions" + published after his death, with a memoir, by Emerson, "The + Maine Woods" in 1864, "Cape Cod" in 1865; his "Journals" and + other works also published after his death. + + + + +I + +THE BUILDING OF HIS HOUSE AT WALDEN POND[30] + + +When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived +alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had +built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, +and earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two +years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life +again.... + +[Footnote 30: From Chapter I of "Walden, or Life in the Woods."] + +Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an ax and went down to the +woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house, +and began to cut down some tall arrowy white pines, still in their +youth, for timber. It is difficult to begin without borrowing, but +perhaps it is the most generous course thus to permit your fellow men +to have an interest in your enterprise. The owner of the ax, as he +released his hold on it, said that it was the apple of his eye; but I +returned it sharper than I received it. It was a pleasant hillside +where I worked, covered with pine woods, through which I looked out on +the pond, and a small open field in the woods where pines and +hickories were springing up. The ice in the pond was not yet +dissolved, tho there were some open spaces, and it was all dark +colored and saturated with water. There were some slight flurries of +snow during the days that I worked there; but for the most part when I +came out on to the railroad, on my way home, its yellow sand heap +stretched away gleaming in the hazy atmosphere, and the rails shone in +the spring sun, and I heard the lark and pewee and other birds already +come to commence another year with us.... + +I hewed the main timbers six inches square, most of the studs on two +sides only, and the rafters and floor timbers on one side, leaving the +rest of the bark on, so that they were just as straight and much +stronger than sawed ones. Each stick was carefully mortised or tenoned +by its stump, for I had borrowed other tools by this time. My days in +the woods were not very long ones; yet I usually carried my dinner of +bread and butter, and read the newspaper in which it was wrapt, at +noon, sitting amid the green pine boughs which I had cut off, and to +my bread was imparted some of their fragrance, for my hands were +covered with a thick coat of pitch. Before I had done I was more the +friend than the foe of the pine-tree, tho I had cut down some of them, +having become better acquainted with it. Sometimes a rambler in the +wood was attracted by the sound of my ax, and we chatted pleasantly +over the chips which I had made.... + +I dug my cellar in the side of a hill sloping to the south, where a +woodchuck had formerly dug his burrow, down through sumac and +blackberry roots, and the lowest stain of vegetation, six feet square +by seven deep, to a fine sand where potatoes would not freeze in any +winter. The sides were left shelving, and not stoned; but the sun +having never shone on them, the sand still keeps its place. It was but +two hours' work. I took particular pleasure in this breaking of +ground, for in almost all latitudes men dig into the earth for an +equable temperature. Under the most splendid house in the city is +still to be found the cellar where they store their roots as of old, +and long after the superstructure has disappeared posterity will +remark its dent in the earth. The house is still but a sort of porch +at the entrance of a burrow. + +At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of my +acquaintances, rather to improve so good an occasion for +neighborliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my +house. No man was ever more honored in the character of his raisers +than I. They are destined, I trust, to assist at the raising of +loftier structures one day. I began to occupy my house on the 4th of +July, as soon as it was boarded and roofed, for the boards were +carefully feather-edged and lapped, so that it was perfectly +impervious to rain; but before boarding I laid the foundation of a +chimney at one end, bringing two cartloads of stones up the hill from +the pond in my arms. I built the chimney after my hoeing in the fall, +before a fire became necessary for warmth, doing my cooking in the +meanwhile out-of-doors, on the ground, early in the morning; which +mode I still think is in some respects more convenient and agreeable +than the usual one. When it stormed before my bread was baked, I fixt +a few boards over the fire, and sat under them to watch my loaf, and +passed some pleasant hours in that way. In those days, when my hands +were much employed, I read but little, but the least scraps of paper +which lay on the ground, my holder, or tablecloth, afforded me as much +entertainment, in fact, answered the same purpose as the Iliad. + +Before winter I built a chimney, and shingled the sides of my house, +which were already impervious to rain, with imperfect and sappy +shingles made of the first slice of the log, which edges I was obliged +to straighten with a plane. + +I have thus a tight shingled and plastered house, ten feet wide by +fifteen long, and eight-feet posts, with a garret and a closet, a +large window on each side, two trap doors, one door at the end, and a +brick fireplace opposite. The exact cost of my house, paying the usual +price for such materials as I used, but not counting the work, all of +which was done by myself, was as follows; and I give the details +because very few are able to tell exactly what their houses cost, and +fewer still, if any, the separate cost of the various materials which +compose them: + +Boards $ 8.03-1/2 +Refuse shingles for roof and sides 4.00 +Laths 1.25 +Two second-hand windows with glass 2.43 +One thousand old brick 4.00 +Two casks of lime (That was high) 2.40 +Hair (More than I needed) 0.31 +Mantle-tree iron 0.15 +Nails 3.90 +Hinges and screws 0.14 +Latch 0.10 +Chalk 0.01 +Transportation (I carried a good part +on my back) 1.40 + ---------- +In all $28.12-1/2 + +These are all the materials excepting the timber, stones, and sand, +which I claimed by squatter's right. I have also a small woodshed +adjoining, made chiefly of the stuff which was left after building the +house. + + + + +II + +HOW TO MAKE TWO SMALL ENDS MEET[31] + + +Before I finished my house, wishing to earn ten or twelve dollars by +some honest and agreeable method, in order to meet my unusual +expenses, I planted about two acres and a half of light and sandy soil +near it chiefly with beans, but also a small part with potatoes, +corn, peas, and turnips. The whole lot contains eleven acres, mostly +growing up to pines and hickories, and was sold the preceding season +for eight dollars and eight cents an acre. One farmer said that it was +"good for nothing but to raise cheeping squirrels on." I put no manure +whatever on this land, not being the owner, but merely a squatter, and +not expecting to cultivate so much again, and I did not quite hoe it +all once. I got out several cords of stumps in plowing, which supplied +me with fuel for a long time, and left small circles of virgin mold, +easily distinguishable through the summer by the greater luxuriance of +the beans there. The dead and for the most part unmerchantable wood +behind my house, and the driftwood from the pond, have supplied the +remainder of my fuel. I was obliged to hire a team and a man for the +plowing, tho I held the plow myself. My farm outgoes for the first +season were, for implements, seed, work, etc., $14.72-1/2. The seed +corn was given me. This never costs anything to speak of, unless you +plant more than enough. I got twelve bushels of beans, and eighteen +bushels of potatoes, besides some peas and sweet corn. The yellow corn +and turnips were too late to come to anything. My whole income from +the farm was + + $23.44 +Deducting the outgoes 14.72-1/2 + -------------- +There are left $ 8.71-1/2 + +besides produce consumed and on hand at the time this estimate was +made of the value of $4.50--the amount on hand much more than +balancing a little grass which I did not raise. All things considered, +that is considering the importance of a man's soul and of to-day, +notwithstanding the short time occupied by my experiment, nay, partly +even because of its transient character I believe that that was doing +better than any farmer in Concord did that year. + +[Footnote 31: From Chapters I and II of "Walden."] + +The next year I did better still, for I spaded up all the land which I +required, about a third of an acre, and I learned from the experience +of both years, not being in the least awed by many celebrated works on +husbandry, Arthur Young among the rest, that if one would live simply +and eat only the crop which he raised, and raise no more than he ate, +and not exchange it for an insufficient quantity of more luxurious and +expensive things, he would need to cultivate only a few rods of +ground, and that it would be cheaper to spade up that than to use oxen +to plow it, and to select a fresh spot from time to time than to +manure the old, and he could do all his necessary farm work as it were +with his left hand at odd hours in the summer; and thus he would not +be tied to an ox, or horse, or cow, or pig, as at present. I desire to +speak impartially on this point, and as one not interested in the +success or failure of the present economical and social arrangements. +I was more independent than any farmer in Concord, for I was not +anchored to a house or farm, but could follow the bent of my genius, +which is a very crooked one, every moment. Besides being better off +than they already, if my house had been burned or my crops had failed, +I should have been nearly as well off as before.... + +By surveying, carpentry, and day-labor of various other kinds in the +village in the meanwhile, for I have as many trades as fingers, I had +earned $13.34. The expense of food for eight months, namely, from July +4th to March 1st, the time when these estimates were made, tho I lived +there more than two years--not counting potatoes, a little green corn, +and some peas, which I had raised, nor considering the value of what +was on hand at the last date, was + +Rice $1.73-1/2} +Molasses (Cheapest form } + of the saccharine) 1.73 } +Rye meal 1.04-3/4} +Indian meal (Cheaper } + than rye) 0.99-3/4} +Pork 0.22 } +Flour (Costs more than } All Experiments + Indian meal, both } which had failed + money and trouble) 0.88 } +Sugar 0.80 } +Lard 0.65 } +Apples 0.25 } +Dried apple 0.22 } +Sweet potatoes 0.10 } +One pumpkin 0.06 } +One watermelon 0.02 } +Salt 0.03 } + +Yes, I did eat $8.74, all told; but I should not thus unblushingly +publish my guilt, if I did not know that most of my readers were +equally guilty with myself, and that their deeds would look no better +in print. The next year I sometimes caught a mess of fish for my +dinner, and once I went so far as to slaughter a woodchuck which +ravaged my beanfield--effect his transmigration, as a Tartar would +say--and devour him, partly for experiment's sake; but tho it +afforded me a momentary enjoyment, notwithstanding a musky flavor, I +saw that the longest use would not make that a good practise, however +it might seem to have your woodchucks ready drest by the village +butcher. + +Clothing and some incidental expenses within the same date, tho little +can be inferred from this item, amounted to + + $8.40-3/4 +Oil and some household utensils 2.00 + +So that all the pecuniary outgoes, excepting for washing and mending, +which for the most part were done out of the house, and their bills +have not yet been received--and these are all and more than all the +ways by which money necessarily goes out in this part of the +world--were + +House $28.12-1/2 +Farm, one year 14.72-1/2 +Food, eight months 8.74 +Clothing, etc., eight months 8.40-3/4 +Oil, etc., eight months 2.00 + ------- + In all $61.99-3/4 + +I address myself now to those of my readers who have a living to get. +And to meet this I have for farm produce sold + + $23.44 +Earned by day-labor 13.34 + ------ + In all $36.78 + +which subtracted from the sum of the outgoes leaves a balance of +$25.21-3/4 on the one side, this being very nearly the means with which I +started, and the measure of expenses to be incurred--and on the +other, besides the leisure and independence and health thus secured, a +comfortable house for me as long as I choose to occupy it. + +These statistics, however accidental and therefore uninstructive they +may appear, as they have a certain completeness, have a certain value +also. Nothing was given me of which I have not rendered some account. +It appears from the above estimate that my food alone cost me in money +about twenty-seven cents a week. It was, for nearly two years after +this, rye and Indian meal without yeast, potatoes, rice, a very little +salt pork, molasses, and salt, and my drink water. It was fit that I +should live on rice, mainly, who loved so well the philosophy of +India. To meet the objections of some inveterate cavillers, I may as +well state that if I dined out occasionally, as I always had done, and +I trust shall have opportunities to do again, it was frequently to the +detriment of my domestic arrangements. But the dining out, being, as I +have stated, a constant element, does not in the least affect a +comparative statement like this. + +I learned from my two years' experience that it would cost incredibly +little trouble to obtain one's necessary food, even in this latitude; +that a man may use as simple a diet as the animals, and yet retain +health and strength. I have made a satisfactory dinner, satisfactory +on several accounts, simply off a dish of purslane (_Portulaca +Oleracea_) which I gathered in my cornfield, boiled and salted. I give +the Latin on account of the savoriness of the trivial name. And pray +what more can a reasonable man desire, in peaceful times, in ordinary +noons, than sufficient number of ears of green sweet-corn boiled, +with the addition of salt? Even the little variety which I used was a +yielding to the demands of appetite, and not of health. Yet men have +come to such a pass that they frequently starve, not for want of +necessaries, but for want of luxuries; and I know a good woman who +thinks that her son lost his life because he took to drinking water +only. + +The reader will perceive that I am treating the subject rather from an +economic than a dietetic point of view, and he will not venture to put +my abstemiousness to the test unless he has a well-stocked larder. + +Bread I at first made of pure Indian meal and salt, genuine hoe-cakes, +which I baked before my fire out of doors on a shingle or the end of a +stick of timber sawed off in building my house; but it was wont to get +smoked and to have a piny flavor. I tried flour also; but have at last +found a mixture of rye and Indian meal most convenient and agreeable. +In cold weather it was no little amusement to bake several small +loaves of this in succession, tending and turning them as carefully as +an Egyptian his hatching eggs. They were a real cereal fruit which I +ripened, and they had to my senses a fragrance like that of other +noble fruits, which I kept in as long as possible by wrapping them in +cloths. I made a study of the ancient and indispensable art of +bread-making, consulting such authorities as offered, going back to +the primitive days and first invention of the unleavened kind, when +from the wildness of nuts and meats men first reached the mildness and +refinement of this diet, and traveling gradually down in my studies +through that accidental souring of the dough, which, it is supposed, +taught the leavening process, and through the various fermentations +thereafter, till I came to "good, sweet, wholesome bread," the staff +of life. + +For more than five years I maintained myself thus solely by the labor +of my hands, and I found that by working about six weeks in a year, I +could meet all the expenses of living. The whole of my winters, as +well as most of my summers, I had free and clear for study. I have +thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that my expenses were in +proportion, or rather out of proportion, to my income, for I was +obliged to dress and train, not to say think and believe, accordingly, +and I lost my time into the bargain. As I did not teach for the good +of my fellow men, but simply for a livelihood, this was a failure. I +have tried trade; but I found that it would take ten years to get +under way in that, and that then I should probably be on my way to the +devil. I was actually afraid that I might by that time be doing what +is called a good business. When formerly I was looking about to see +what I could do for a living, some sad experience in conforming to the +wishes of friends being fresh in my mind to tax my ingenuity, I +thought often and seriously of picking huckleberries; that surely I +could do, and its small profits might suffice--for my greatest skill +has been to want but little--so little capital it required, so little +distraction from my wonted moods, I foolishly thought. While my +acquaintances went unhesitatingly into trade or the professions, I +contemplated this occupation as most like theirs; ranging the hills +all summer to pick the berries which came in my way, and thereafter +carelessly dispose of them; so to keep the flocks of Admetus. I also +dreamed that I might gather the wild herbs, or carry evergreens to +such villagers as loved to be reminded of the woods, even to the city, +by hay-cart loads. But I have since learned that trade curses +everything it handles; and tho you trade in messages from heaven, the +whole curse of trade attaches to the business.... + +In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to +maintain one's self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if +we will live simply and wisely; as the pursuits of the simpler nations +are still the sports of the more artificial. It is not necessary that +a man should earn his living by the sweat of his brow, unless he +sweats easier than I do.... + +The only house I had been the owner of before, if I except a boat, was +a tent, which I used occasionally when making excursions in the +summer, and this is still rolled up in my garret; but the boat, after +passing from hand to hand, has gone down the stream of time. With this +more substantial shelter about me, I had made some progress toward +settling in the world. This frame, so slightly clad, was a sort of +crystallization around me, and reacted on the builder. It was +suggestive as a picture in outlines. I did not need to go outdoors to +take the air, for the atmosphere within had lost none of its +freshness. It was not so much within doors as behind a door where I +sat, even in the rainiest weather. The Harivansa says, "An +abode-without birds is like a meat without seasoning." Such was not my +abode, for I found myself suddenly neighbor to the birds; not by +having imprisoned one, but having caged myself near them. I was not +only nearer to some of those which commonly frequent the garden and +the orchard, but to those wilder and more thrilling songsters of the +forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager, the wood-thrush, +the veery, the scarlet tanager, the field-sparrow, the whippoorwill, +and many others. + +I was seated by the shore of a small pond, about a mile and a half +south of the village of Concord, and somewhat higher than it, in the +midst of an extensive wood between that town and Lincoln, and about +two miles south of that our only field known to fame, Concord battle +ground; but I was so low in the woods that the opposite shore, half a +mile off, like the rest covered with wood, was my most distant +horizon. For the first week, whenever I looked out on the pond it +imprest me like a tarn high up on the side of a mountain, its bottom +far above the surface of other lakes, and, as the sun arose, I saw it +throwing off its mighty clothing of mist, and here and there, by +degrees, its soft ripples or its smooth reflecting surface were +revealed, while the mists, like ghosts, were stealthily withdrawing in +every direction into the woods, as at the breaking up of some +nocturnal conventicle. The very dew seemed to hang upon the trees +later into the day than usual, as on the sides of mountains. + +I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front +only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what +it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not +lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; +nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. +I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so +sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to +cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and +reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, then to +get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to +the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be +able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, +it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is +of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is +the chief end of man here to "glorify God and enjoy Him forever." + +Still we live meanly, like ants; tho the fable tells us that we were +long ago changed into men; like pygmies we fight with cranes; it is +error upon error, and clout upon clout, and our best virtue has for +its occasion a superfluous and evitable wretchedness. Our life is +frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more +than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and +lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your +affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead +of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb +nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are +the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand and one items to be +allowed for that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to +the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he +must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. +Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary, eat but one; instead +of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion. + +Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off +the track by every nutshell and mosquito's wing that falls on the +rails. Let us rise early and fast, or break fast, gently and without +perturbation; let company come and let company go, let the bells ring +and the children cry--determined to make a day of it. Why should we +knock under and go with the stream? Let us not be upset and +overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a dinner, +situated in the meridian shallows. Weather this danger and you are +safe, for the rest of the way is down hill. With unrelaxed nerves, +with morning vigor, sail by it, looking another way, tied to the mast +like Ulysses. If the engine whistles, let it whistle till it is hoarse +for its pains. If the bell rings, why should we run? We will consider +what kind of music they are like. + + + + +III + +ON READING THE ANCIENT CLASSICS[32] + + +The student may read Homer or Æschylus in the Greek without danger of +dissipation or luxuriousness, for it implies that he in some measure +emulates their heroes, and consecrates morning hours to their pages. +The heroic books, even if printed in the character of our mother +tongue, will always be in a language dead to degenerate times; and we +must laboriously seek the meaning of each word and line, conjecturing +a larger sense than common use permits out of that wisdom and valor +and generosity we have. The modern cheap and fertile press, with all +its translations, has done little to bring us nearer to the heroic +writers of antiquity. They seem as solitary, and the letter in which +they are printed as rare and curious as ever. It is worth the expense +of youthful days and costly hours, if you learn only some words of an +ancient language, which are raised out of the trivialness of the +street, to be perpetual suggestions and provocation. It is not in vain +that the farmer remembers and repeats the few Latin words which he has +heard. Men sometimes speak as if the study of the classics would at +length make way for more modern and practical studies; but the +adventurous student will always study classics, in whatever language +they may be written and however ancient they may be. For what are the +classics but the noblest recorded thoughts of man? They are the only +oracles which are not decayed, and there are such answers to the most +modern inquiry in them as Delphi and Dodona never gave. We might as +well omit to study Nature because she is old. + +[Footnote 32: From Chapter III of "Walden."] + +To read well, that is, to read true books in a true spirit, is a noble +exercise, and one that will tax the reader more than any exercise +which the customs of the day esteem. It requires a training such as +the athletes underwent, the steady intention almost of the whole life +to this object. Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as +they were written. It is not enough even to be able to speak the +language of that nation by which they are written, for there is a +memorable interval between the spoken and the written language, the +language heard and the language read. The one is commonly transitory, +a sound, a tongue, a dialect merely, almost brutish, and we learn it +unconsciously, like the brutes, of our mothers. The other is the +maturity and experience of that; if that is our mother tongue, this is +our father tongue, a reserved and select expression, too significant +to be heard by the ear, which we must be born again in order to speak. +The crowds of men who merely spoke the Greek and Latin tongues in the +Middle Ages were not entitled by the accident of birth to read the +works of genius written in those languages; for these were not written +in that Greek or Latin which they knew, but in the select language of +literature. They had not learned the nobler dialects of Greece and +Rome, but the very materials on which they were written were waste +paper to them, and they prized instead a cheap contemporary +literature. But when the several nations of Europe had acquired +distinct tho rude written languages of their own, sufficient for the +purposes of their rising literatures, then first learning revived, and +scholars were enabled to discern from that remoteness the treasures of +antiquity. What the Roman and Grecian multitude could not hear, after +the lapse of ages a few scholars read, and a few scholars only are +still reading it. + +However much we may admire the orator's occasional bursts of +eloquence, the noblest written words are commonly as far behind or +above the fleeting spoken language as the firmament with its stars is +behind the clouds. There are the stars, and they who can may read +them. The astronomers forever comment on and observe them. They are +not exhalations like our daily colloquies and vaporous breath. What is +called eloquence in the forum is commonly found to be rhetoric in the +study. The orator yields to the inspiration of a transient occasion, +and speaks to the mob before him, to those who can hear him; but the +writer, whose more equable life is his occasion, and who would be +distracted by the event and the crowd which inspire the orator, speaks +to the intellect and heart of mankind, to all in any age who can +understand him. + +No wonder that Alexander carried the Iliad with him on his expeditions +in a precious casket. A written word is the choicest of relics. It is +something at once more intimate with us and more universal than any +other work of art. It is the work of art nearest to life itself. It +may be translated into every language, and not only be read but +actually breathed from all human lips; not be represented on canvas or +in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself. The +symbol of an ancient man's thought becomes a modern man's speech. Two +thousand summers have imparted to the monuments of Grecian literature, +as to her marbles, only a maturer golden and autumnal tint, for they +have carried their own serene and celestial atmosphere into all lands +to protect them against the corrosion of time. Books are the treasured +wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and +nations. Books, the oldest and the best, stand naturally and +rightfully on the shelves of every cottage. They have no cause of +their own to plead, but while they enlighten and sustain the reader +his common sense will not refuse them. Their authors are a natural and +irresistible aristocracy in every society, and, more than kings or +emperors, exert an influence on mankind. When the illiterate and +perhaps scornful trader has earned by enterprise and industry his +coveted leisure and independence, and is admitted to the circles of +wealth and fashion, he turns inevitably at last to those still higher +but yet inaccessible circles of intellect and genius, and is sensible +only of the imperfection of his culture, and the vanity and +insufficiency of all his riches, and further proves his good sense by +the pains which he takes to secure for his children that intellectual +culture whose want he so keenly feels; and thus it is that he becomes +the founder of a family. + +Those who have not learned to read the ancient classics in the +language in which they were written must have a very imperfect +knowledge of the history of the human race; for it is remarkable that +no transcript of them has ever been made into any modern tongue, +unless our civilization itself may be regarded as such a transcript. +Homer has never yet been printed in English, nor Æschylus, nor Virgil +even--works as refined, as solidly done, and as beautiful almost as +the morning itself; for later writers, say what we will of their +genius, have rarely, if ever, equaled the elaborate beauty and finish +and the lifelong and heroic literary labors of the ancients. They only +talk of forgetting them who never knew them. It will be soon enough to +forget them when we have the learning and the genius which will enable +us to attend to and appreciate them. That age will be rich, indeed, +when those relics which we call classics, and the still older and more +than classic but even less known scriptures of the nations, shall have +still further accumulated, when the Vaticans shall be filled with +Vedas and Zendavestas and Bibles, with Homers and Dantes and +Shakespeares, and all the centuries to come shall have successively +deposited their trophies in the forum of the world. By such a pile we +may hope to scale heaven at last. + + + + +IV + +OF SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE[33] + + +When I return to my house I find that visitors have been there and +left their cards, either a bunch of flowers, or a wreath of evergreen, +or a name in pencil on a yellow walnut leaf or a chip. They who come +rarely to the woods take some little piece of the forest into their +hands to play with by the way, which they leave, either intentionally +or accidentally. One has peeled a willow wand, woven it into a ring, +and dropt it on my table. I could always tell if visitors had called +in my absence, either by the bended twigs or grass, or the print of +their shoes, and generally of what sex or age or quality they were by +some slight trace left, as a flower dropt, or a bunch of grass plucked +and thrown away, even as far off as the railroad, half a mile distant, +or by the lingering odor of a cigar or pipe. Nay, I was frequently +notified of the passage of a traveler along the highway sixty rods off +by the scent of his pipe.... + +[Footnote 33: From Chapter IV of "Walden."] + +I have never felt lonesome, or in the least opprest by a sense of +solitude but once, and that was a few weeks after I came to the woods, +when, for an hour, I doubted if the near neighborhood of man was not +essential to a serene and healthy life. To be alone was something +unpleasant. But I was at the same time conscious of a slight insanity +in my mood, and seemed to foresee my recovery. In the midst of a +gentle rain while these thoughts prevailed, I was suddenly sensible of +such sweet and beneficent society in nature, in the very pattering of +the drops and in every sound and sight around my house, an infinite +and unaccountable friendliness all at once like an atmosphere +sustaining me, as made the fancied advantages of human neighborhood +significant, and I have never thought of them since. Every little pine +needle expanded and swelled with sympathy and befriended me. I was so +distinctly made aware of the presence of something kindred to me, even +in scenes which we are accustomed to call wild and dreary, and also +that the nearest of blood to me and humanest was not a person, nor a +villager, that I thought no place could ever be strange to me +again.... + +I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in +company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love +to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as +solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among +men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is +always alone, let him be where he will. Solitude is not measured by +the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows. The +really diligent student in one of the crowded hives of Cambridge +College is as solitary as a dervish in the desert. The farmer can work +alone in the field all day, hoeing or chopping, and not feel lonesome, +because he is employed; but when he comes home at night he can not sit +down in a room alone, at the mercy of his thoughts, but must be where +he can "see the folks," and recreate, and, as he thinks, remunerate +himself for his day's solitude; and hence he wonders how the student +can sit alone in the house all night and most of the day without ennui +and "the blues"; but he does not realize that the student, tho in the +house, is still at work in his field, and chopping in his woods, as +the farmer in his, and in turn seeks the same recreation and society +that the latter does, tho it may be a more condensed form of it. + +Society is commonly too cheap. We meet at very short intervals, not +having had time to acquire any new value for each other. We meet at +meals three times a day, and give each other a new taste of that old +musty cheese that we are. We have to agree on a certain set of rules, +called etiquette and politeness, to make this frequent meeting +tolerable and that we need not come to open war. We meet at the +post-office, and at the sociable, and about the fireside every night; +we live thick and are in each other's way, and stumble over one +another, and I think that we thus lose some respect for one another. +Certainly less frequency would suffice for all important and hearty +communications. Consider the girls in a factory--never alone, hardly +in their dreams. It would be better if there were but one inhabitant +to a square mile, as where I live. The value of a man is not in his +skin, that we should touch him. + +I have a great deal of company in my house; especially in the morning, +when nobody calls. Let me suggest a few comparisons, that some one may +convey an idea of my situation. I am no more lonely than the loon in +the pond that laughs so loud, or than Walden pond itself. What +company has that lonely lake, I pray? And yet it has not the blue +devils, but the blue angels in it, in the azure tint of its waters. +The sun is alone, except in thick weather, when there sometimes appear +to be two, but one is a mock sun. God is alone--but the devil, he is +far from being alone; he sees a great deal of company; he is legion. I +am no more lonely than a single mullein or dandelion in a pasture, or +a bean leaf, or sorrel, or a horse-fly, or a humble-bee. I am no more +lonely than the Mill brook, or a weathercock, or the north star, or +the south wind, or an April shower, or a January thaw, or the first +spider in a new house. + +I have occasional visits in the long winter evenings, when the snow +falls fast and the wind howls in the wood, from an old settler and +original proprietor, who is reported to have dug Walden pond, and +stoned it, and fringed it with pine woods; who tells me stories of old +time and of new eternity; and between us we manage to pass a cheerful +evening, with social mirth and pleasant views of things, even without +apples or cider; a most wise and humorous friend, whom I love much, +who keeps himself more secret than ever did Goffe or Whalley;[34] and +tho he is thought to be dead, none can show where he is buried. An +elderly dame, too, dwells in my neighborhood, invisible to most +persons, in whose odorous herb garden I love to stroll sometimes, +gathering simples and listening to her fables; for she has a genius of +unequaled fertility, and her memory runs back farther than mythology, +and she can tell me the original of every fable, and on what fact +every one is founded, for the incidents occurred when she was young. A +ruddy and lusty old dame, who delights in all weathers and seasons, +and is likely to outlive all her children yet. + +[Footnote 34: The English regicides who came to America, and after +1660 lived in concealment in New England, a part of the time in a cave +near New Haven. William Goffe died in Hadley, Mass., in 1679. Edward +Whalley, who had been one of Cromwell's major generals, died also in +Hadley a year before Goffe.] + + + + +JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL + + Born in 1819, died in 1891; graduated from Harvard in 1838; + in 1855 became professor at Harvard; editor of _The Atlantic + Monthly_ in 1857-62, _The North American Review_ in 1863-72; + minister to Spain in 1877-80, and Great Britain in 1880-85; + published "A Year's Life" in 1841, "The Vision of Sir + Launfal" in 1845, "A Fable for Critics" in 1848, "The Biglow + Papers" in 1848, and a second series in 1867, "Under the + Willows" in 1868, "The Cathedral" in 1869; among his + best-known prose works, "Conversations on Some of the Old + Poets" published in 1845, "Fireside Travels" in 1864, "Among + My Books" in 1870 and 1876, "My Study Windows" in 1871; his + "Letters" edited by Charles Eliot Norton, published in 1893. + + + + +I + +THE POET AS PROPHET[35] + + +Poets are the forerunners and prophets of changes in the moral world. +Driven by their fine nature to search into and reverently contemplate +the universal laws of the soul, they find some fragment of the broken +tables of God's law, and interpret it, half-conscious of its mighty +import. While philosophers are wrangling, and politicians playing at +snapdragon with, the destinies of millions, the poet, in the silent +deeps of his soul, listens to those mysterious pulses which, from one +central heart, send life and beauty through the finest veins of the +universe, and utters truths to be sneered at, perchance, by +contemporaries, but which become religion to posterity. Not unwisely +ordered is that eternal destiny which renders the seer despised of +men, since thereby he is but the more surely taught to lay his head +meekly upon the mother-breast of Nature, and harken to the musical +soft beating of her bounteous heart. + +[Footnote 35: From an essay contributed to _The Pioneer_ in 1843. +Lowell was the founder and editor of _The Pioneer_, Robert Carter +being his associate. The magazine lived only three months. Charles +Eliot Norton, the editor of Lowell's "Letters," says it "left its +projectors burdened with a considerable debt." "I am deeply in debt," +wrote Lowell afterward, when hesitating to undertake a journey, "and +feel a twinge for every cent I spend."] + +That Poesy, save as she can soar nearer to the blissful throne of the +Supreme Beauty, is of no more use than all other beautiful things are, +we are fain to grant. That she does not add to the outward wealth of +the body, and that she is only so much more excellent than any bodily +gift as spirit is more excellent than matter, we must also yield. But, +inasmuch as all beautiful things are direct messages and revelations +of himself, given us by our Father, and as Poesy is the searcher out +and interpreter of all these, tracing by her inborn sympathy the +invisible nerves which bind them harmoniously together, she is to be +revered and cherished. The poet has a fresher memory of Eden, and of +the path leading back thereto, than other men; so that we might almost +deem him to have been conceived, at least, if not borne and nursed, +beneath the ambrosial shadow of those dimly remembered bowers, and to +have had his infant ears filled with the divine converse of angels, +who then talked face to face with his sires, as with beloved younger +brethren, and of whose golden words only the music remained to him, +vibrating forever in his soul, and making him yearn to have all sounds +of earth harmonize therewith. In the poet's lofty heart Truth hangs +her aerie, and there Love flowers, scattering thence her winged seeds +over all the earth with every wind of heaven. In all ages the poet's +fiery words have goaded men to remember and regain their ancient +freedom, and, when they had regained it, have tempered it with a love +of beauty, so as that it should accord with the freedom of nature, and +be as unmovably eternal as that. The dreams of poets are morning +dreams, coming to them in the early dawn and daybreaking of great +truths, and are surely fulfilled at last. They repeat them, as +children do, and all Christendom, if it be not too busy with +quarreling about the meaning of creeds, which have no meaning at all, +listens with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile of pitying +incredulity; for reformers are always madmen in their own age, and +infallible saints in the next. + +We love to go back to the writings of our old poets, for we find in +them the tender germs of many a thought which now stands like a huge +oak in the inward world, an ornament and a shelter. We can not help +reading with awful interest what has been written or rudely scrawled +upon the walls of this our earthly prison house, by former dwellers +therein. From that which centuries have established, too, we may draw +true principles of judgment for the poetry of our own day. A right +knowledge and apprehension of the past teaches humbleness and +self-sustainment to the present. Showing us what has been, it also +reveals what can be done. Progress is Janus-faced, looking to the +bygone as well as to the coming; and radicalism should not so much +busy itself with lopping off the dead or seeming dead limbs, as with +clearing away that poisonous rottenness around the roots, from which +the tree has drawn the principle of death into its sap. A love of the +beautiful and harmonious, which must be the guide and forerunner to +every onward movement of humanity, is created and cherished more +surely by pointing out what beauty dwells in anything, even the most +deformed (for there is something in that also, else it could not even +be), than by searching out and railing at all the foulnesses in +nature. + +Not till we have patiently studied beauty can we safely venture to +look at defects, for not till then can we do it in that spirit of +earnest love, which gives more than it takes away. Exultingly as we +hail all signs of progress, we venerate the past also. The tendrils of +the heart, like those of ivy, cling but the more closely to what they +have clung to long, and even when that which they entwine crumbles +beneath them, they still run greenly over the ruin, and beautify those +defects which they can not hide. The past as well as the present, +molds the future, and the features of some remote progenitor will +revive again freshly in the latest offspring of the womb of time. Our +earth hangs well-nigh silent now, amid the chorus of her sister orbs, +and not till past and present move harmoniously together will music +once more vibrate on this long silent chord in the symphony of the +universe. + + + + +II + +THE FIRST OF THE MODERNS[36] + + +Dryden has now been in his grave nearly a hundred and seventy years; +in the second class of English poets perhaps no one stands, on the +whole, so high as he; during his lifetime, in spite of jealousy, +detraction, unpopular politics, and a suspicious change of faith, his +preeminence was conceded; he was the earliest complete type of the +purely literary man, in the modern sense; there is a singular +unanimity in allowing him a certain claim to greatness which would be +denied to men as famous and more read--to Pope or Swift, for example; +he is supposed, in some way or other, to have reformed English poetry. +It is now about half a century since the only uniform edition of his +works was edited by Scott. No library is complete without him, no name +is more familiar than his, and yet it may be suspected that few +writers are more thoroughly buried in that great cemetery of the +"British Poets." + +[Footnote 36: From the first essay in the first series entitled "Among +My Books." Copyright, 1870, by James Russell Lowell. Published by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +If contemporary reputation be often deceitful, posthumous fame may be +generally trusted, for it is a verdict made up of the suffrages of the +select men in succeeding generations. This verdict has been as good as +unanimous in favor of Dryden. It is, perhaps, worth while to take a +fresh observation of him, to consider him neither as warning nor +example, but to endeavor to make out what it is that has given so +lofty and firm a position to one of the most unequal, inconsistent, +and faulty writers that ever lived. He is a curious example of what we +often remark of the living, but rarely of the dead--that they get +credit for what they might be quite as much as for what they are--and +posterity has applied to him one of his own rules of criticism, +judging him by the best rather than the average of his achievement, a +thing posterity is seldom wont to do. On the losing side in politics, +it is true of his polemical writings as of Burke's--whom in many +respects he resembles, and especially in that supreme quality of a +reasoner, that his mind gathers not only heat, but clearness and +expansion, by its own motion--that they have won his battle for him in +the judgment of after times. + +To us, looking back at him, he gradually becomes a singularly +interesting and even picturesque figure. He is, in more senses than +one, in language, in turn of thought, in style of mind, in the +direction of his activity, the first of the moderns. He is the first +literary man who was also a man of the world, as we understand the +term. He succeeded Ben Jonson as the acknowledged dictator of wit and +criticism, as Dr. Johnson, after nearly the same interval, succeeded +him. All ages are, in some sense, ages of transition; but there are +times when the transition is more marked, more rapid; and it is, +perhaps, an ill fortune for a man of letters to arrive at maturity +during such a period, still more to represent in himself the change +that is going on, and to be an efficient cause in bringing it about. +Unless, like Goethe, he is of a singularly uncontemporaneous nature, +capable of being _tutta in se romita_, and of running parallel with +his time rather than being sucked into its current, he will be +thwarted in that harmonious development of native force which has so +much to do with its steady and successful application. Dryden +suffered, no doubt, in this way. Tho in creed he seems to have drifted +backward in an eddy of the general current; yet of the intellectual +movement of the time, so far certainly as literature shared in it, he +could say, with Æneas, not only that he saw, but that himself was a +great part of it. + +That movement was, on the whole, a downward one, from faith to scepticism, +from enthusiasm to cynicism, from the imagination to the understanding. It +was in a direction altogether away from those springs of imagination and +faith at which they of the last age had slaked the thirst or renewed the +vigor of their souls. Dryden himself recognized that indefinable and +gregarious influence which we call nowadays the spirit of the age, when he +said that "every age has a kind of universal genius." He had also a just +notion of that in which he lived; for he remarks, incidentally, that "all +knowing ages are naturally sceptic and not at all bigoted, which, if I am +not much deceived, is the proper character of our own." It may be conceived +that he was even painfully half-aware of having fallen upon a time +incapable, not merely of a great poet, but perhaps of any poet at all; for +nothing is so sensitive to the chill of a skeptical atmosphere as that +enthusiasm which, if it be not genius, is at least the beautiful illusion, +that saves it from the baffling quibbles of self-consciousness. Thrice +unhappy he who, born to see things as they might be, is schooled by +circumstances to see them as people say they are--to read God in a prose +translation. Such was Dryden's lot, and such, for a good part of his days, +it was by his own choice. He who was of a stature to snatch the torch of +life that flashes from lifted hand to hand along the generations, over the +heads of inferior men, chose rather to be a link-boy to the stews.... + +But at whatever period of his life we look at Dryden, and whatever, +for the moment, may have been his poetic creed, there was something in +the nature of the man that would not be wholly subdued to what it +worked in. There are continual glimpses of something in him greater +than he, hints of possibilities finer than anything he has done. You +feel that the whole of him was better than any random specimens, tho +of his best, seem to prove. _Incessu patet_, he has by times the large +stride of the elder race, tho it sinks too often into the slouch of a +man who has seen better days. His grand air may, in part, spring from +a habit of easy superiority to his competitors; but must also, in +part, be ascribed to an innate dignity of character. That this +preeminence should have been so generally admitted, during his life, +can only be explained by a bottom of good sense, kindliness, and sound +judgment, whose solid worth could afford that many a flurry of vanity, +petulance, and even error should flit across the surface and be +forgotten. Whatever else Dryden may have been, the last and abiding +impression of him is that he was thoroughly manly; and while it may be +disputed whether he was a great poet, it may be said of him, as +Wordsworth said of Burke, "that he was by far the greatest man of his +age, not only abounding in knowledge himself, but feeding, in various +directions, his most able contemporaries." + + + + +III + +OF FAULTS FOUND IN SHAKESPEARE[37] + + +Mr. Matthew Arnold seems to think that Shakespeare has damaged English +poetry. I wish he had! It is true he lifted Dryden above himself in +"All for Love"; but it was Dryden who said of him, by instinctive +conviction rather than judgment, that within his magic circle none +dared tread but he. Is he to blame for the extravagances of modern +diction, which are but the reaction of the brazen age against the +degeneracy of art into artifice, that has characterized the silver +period in every literature? We see in them only the futile effort of +misguided persons to torture out of language the secret of that +inspiration which should be in themselves. We do not find the +extravagances in Shakespeare himself. We never saw a line in any +modern poet that reminded us of him, and will venture to assert that +it is only poets of the second class that find successful imitators. +And the reason seems to us a very plain one. The genius of the great +poet seeks repose in the expression of itself, and finds it at last in +style, which is the establishment of a perfect mutual understanding +between the worker and his material. The secondary intellect, on the +other hand, seeks for excitement in expression, and stimulates itself +into mannerism, which is the wilful obtrusion of self, as style is its +unconscious abnegation. No poet of the first class has ever left a +school, because his imagination is incommunicable; while, just as +surely as the thermometer tells of the neighborhood of an iceberg, you +may detect the presence of a genius of the second class in any +generation by the influence of his mannerism, for that, being an +artificial thing, is capable of reproduction. Dante, Shakespeare, +Goethe, left no heirs either to the form or mode of their expression; +while Milton, Sterne, and Wordsworth left behind them whole regiments +uniformed with all their external characteristics. + +[Footnote 37: From the essay entitled "Shakespeare Once Again," +printed in the first series entitled "Among My Books." Copyright, +1870, by James Russell Lowell. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company.] + +We do not mean that great poetic geniuses may not have influenced +thought (tho we think it would be difficult to show how Shakespeare +had done so, directly and wilfully), but that they have not infected +contemporaries or followers with mannerism. The quality in him which +makes him at once so thoroughly English and so thoroughly cosmopolitan +is that aeration of the understanding by the imagination which he has +in common with all the greater poets, and which is the privilege of +genius. The modern school, which mistakes violence for intensity, +seems to catch its breath when it finds itself on the verge of natural +expression, and to say to itself, "Good heavens! I had almost +forgotten I was inspired!" But of Shakespeare we do not even suspect +that he ever remembered it. He does not always speak in that intense +way that flames up in Lear and Macbeth through the rifts of a soil +volcanic with passion. He allows us here and there the repose of a +commonplace character, the consoling distraction of a humorous one. He +knows how to be equable and grand without effort, so that we forget +the altitude of thought to which he has led us, because the slowly +receding slope of a mountain stretching downward by ample gradations +gives a less startling impression of height than to look over the edge +of a ravine that makes but a wrinkle in its flank. + +Shakespeare has been sometimes taxed with the barbarism of profuseness +and exaggeration. But this is to measure him by a Sophoclean scale. +The simplicity of the antique tragedy is by no means that of +expression, but is of form merely. In the utterance of great passions +something must be indulged to the extravagance of Nature; the subdued +tones to which pathos and sentiment are limited can not express a +tempest of the soul. The range between the piteous "no more but so," +in which Ophelia compresses the heartbreak whose compression was to +make her mad, and that sublime appeal of Lear to the elements of +nature, only to be matched, if matched at all, in the "Prometheus," is +a wide one, and Shakespeare is as truly simple in the one as in the +other. The simplicity of poetry is not that of prose, nor its +clearness that of ready apprehension merely. To a subtile sense, a +sense heightened by sympathy, those sudden fervors of phrase, gone ere +one can say it lightens, that show us Macbeth groping among the +complexities of thought in his conscience-clouded mind, and reveal the +intricacy rather than enlighten it, while they leave the eye darkened +to the literal meaning of the words, yet make their logical sequence +the grandeur of the conception, and its truth to nature clearer than +sober daylight could. There is an obscurity of mist rising from the +undrained shallows of the mind, and there is the darkness of +thunder-cloud gathering its electric masses with passionate intensity +from the clear element of the imagination, not at random or wilfully, +but by the natural processes of the creative faculty, to brood those +flashes of expression that transcend rhetoric, and are only to be +apprehended by the poetic instinct. + +In that secondary office of imagination, where it serves the artist, +not as the reason that shapes, but as the interpreter of his +conceptions into words, there is a distinction to be noticed between +the higher and lower mode in which it performs its function. It may be +either creative or pictorial, may body forth the thought or merely +image it forth. With Shakespeare, for example, imagination seems +immanent in his very consciousness; with Milton, in his memory. In the +one it sends, as if without knowing it, a fiery life into the verse, + + "Sei die Braut das Wort, + Bräutigam der Geist"; + +in the other it elaborates a certain pomp and elevation. Accordingly, +the bias of the former is toward over-intensity, of the latter toward +over-diffuseness. Shakespeare's temptation is to push a willing +metaphor beyond its strength, to make a passion over-inform its +tenement of words; Milton can not resist running a simile on into a +fugue. + +One always fancies Shakespeare in his best verses, and Milton at the +keyboard of his organ. Shakespeare's language is no longer the mere +vehicle of thought; it has become part of it, its very flesh and +blood. The pleasure it gives us is unmixt, direct, like that from the +smell of a flower or the flavor of a fruit. Milton sets everywhere his +little pitfalls of bookish association for the memory. I know that +Milton's manner is very grand. It is slow, it is stately, moving as in +triumphal procession, with music, with historic banners, with spoils +from every time and every region, and captive epithets, like huge +Sicambrians, thrust their broad shoulders between us and the thought +whose pomp they decorate. But it is manner, nevertheless, as is proved +by the ease with which it is parodied, by the danger it is in of +degenerating into mannerism whenever it forgets itself. Fancy a parody +of Shakespeare--I do not mean of his words, but of his tone, for that +is what distinguishes the master. You might as well try it with the +Venus of Melos. In Shakespeare it is always the higher thing, the +thought, the fancy, that is preeminent; it is Cæsar that draws all +eyes, and not the chariot in which he rides, or the throng which is +but the reverberation of his supremacy. If not, how explain the charm +with which he dominates in all tongues, even under the disenchantment +of translation? Among the most alien races he is as solidly at home as +a mountain seen from different sides by many lands, itself superbly +solitary, yet the companion of all thoughts and domesticated in all +imaginations. + + + + +IV + +AMERICANS AS SUCCESSORS OF THE DUTCH[38] + + +For more than a century the Dutch were the laughing-stock of polite +Europe. They were butter-firkins, swillers of beer and schnapps, and +their _vrouws_ from whom Holbein painted the all but loveliest of +Madonnas, Rembrandt the graceful girl who sits immortal on his knee in +Dresden, and Rubens his abounding goddesses, were the synonyms of +clumsy vulgarity. Even so late as Irving the ships of the greatest +navigators in the world were represented as sailing equally well +stern-foremost. That the aristocratic Venetians should have + + "Riveted with gigantic piles + Thorough the center their new catchèd miles" + +was heroic. But the far more marvelous achievement of the Dutch in +the same kind was ludicrous even to republican Marvell. Meanwhile, +during that very century of scorn, they were the best artists, +sailors, merchants, bankers, printers, scholars, jurisconsults, and +statesmen in Europe, and the genius of Motley has revealed them to us, +earning a right to themselves by the most heroic struggle in human +annals. But, alas! they were not merely simple burghers who had fairly +made themselves High Mightinesses, and could treat on equal terms with +anointed kings, but their commonwealth carried in its bosom the germs +of democracy. They even unmuzzled, at least after dark, that dreadful +mastiff, the Press, whose scent is, or ought to be, so keen for wolves +in sheep's clothing and for certain other animals in lions' skins. +They made fun of sacred majesty, and, what was worse, managed +uncommonly well without it. In an age when periwigs made so large a +part of the natural dignity of man people with such a turn of mind +were dangerous. How could they seem other than vulgar and hateful? + +[Footnote 38: From the essay entitled "On a Certain Condescension in +Foreigners," printed in "From My Study Windows." Copyright, 1870, +1871, 1890, by James Russell Lowell. Published by Houghton, Mifflin +Company.] + +In the natural course of things we succeeded to this unenviable +position of general butt. The Dutch had thriven under it pretty well, +and there was hope that we could at least contrive to worry along. And +we certainly did in a very redoubtable fashion. Perhaps we deserved +some of the sarcasm more than our Dutch predecessors in office. We had +nothing to boast of in arts or letters, and were given to bragging +overmuch of our merely material prosperity, due quite as much to the +virtue of our continent as to our own. There was some truth in +Carlyle's sneer after all. Till we had succeeded in some higher way +than this, we had only the success of physical growth. Our greatness, +like that of enormous Russia, was greatness on the map--barbarian mass +only; but had we gone down, like that other Atlantis, in some vast +cataclysm, we should have covered but a pin's point on the chart of +memory, compared with those ideal spaces occupied by tiny Attica and +cramped England. At the same time, our critics somewhat too easily +forgot that material must make ready the foundation for ideal +triumphs, that the arts have no chance in poor countries. But it must +be allowed that democracy stood for a great deal in our shortcoming. +The _Edinburgh Review_ never would have thought of asking, "Who reads +a Russian book?" and England was satisfied with iron from Sweden +without being impertinently inquisitive after her painters and +statuaries. Was it that they expected too much from the mere miracle +of freedom? Is it not the highest art of a republic to make men of +flesh and blood, and not the marble ideals of such? It may be fairly +doubted whether we have produced this higher type of man yet. Perhaps +it is the collective, not the individual humanity that is to have a +chance of nobler development among us. We shall see. We have a vast +amount of imported ignorance, and, still worse, of native ready-made +knowledge, to digest before even the preliminaries of such a +consummation can be arranged. We have got to learn that statesmanship +is the most complicated of all arts, and to come back to the +apprenticeship system too hastily abandoned.... + +So long as we continue to be the most common-schooled and the least +cultivated people in the world, I suppose we must consent to endure +this condescending manner of foreigners toward us. The more friendly +they mean to be the more ludicrously prominent it becomes. They can +never appreciate the immense amount of silent work that has been done +here, making this continent slowly fit for the abode of man, and which +will demonstrate itself, let us hope, in the character of the people. +Outsiders can only be expected to judge a nation by the amount it has +contributed to the civilization of the world; the amount, that is, +that can be seen and handled. A great place in history can only be +achieved by competitive examinations, nay, by a long course of them. +How much new thought have we contributed to the common stock? Till +that question can be triumphantly answered, or needs no answer, we +must continue to be simply interesting as an experiment, to be studied +as a problem, and not respected as an attained result or an +accomplished solution. Perhaps, as I have hinted, their patronizing +manner toward us is the fair result of their failing to see here +anything more than a poor imitation, a plaster-cast of Europe. + +Are they not partly right? If the tone of the uncultivated American +has too often the arrogance of the barbarian, is not that of the +cultivated as often vulgarly apologetic? In the America they meet with +is there the simplicity, the manliness, the absence of sham, the faith +in human nature, the sensitiveness to duty and implied obligation, +that in any way distinguishes us from what our orators call "the +effete civilization of the Old World"? Is there a politician among us +daring enough (except a Dana[39] here and there) to risk his future on +the chance of our keeping our word with the exactness of superstitious +communities like England? Is it certain that we shall be ashamed of a +bankruptcy of honor, if we can only keep the letter of our bond? I +hope we shall be able to answer all these questions with a frank yes. + +[Footnote 39: The reference is to Richard Henry Dana, author of "Two +Years Before the Mast," who in 1876 was appointed by President Grant +minister to England, but failed of confirmation in the Senate, owing +to political intrigues due to his independence. Lowell appears to have +inserted this reference to Dana in an edition published subsequent to +the first, the date of the first being 1871.] + +At any rate, we would advise our visitors that we are not merely +curious creatures, but belong to the family of man, and that, as +individuals, we are not to be always subjected to the competitive +examination above mentioned, even if we acknowledged their competence +as an examining board. Above all, we beg them to remember that America +is not to us, as to them, a mere object of external interest to be +discust and analyzed, but in us, part of our very marrow. Let them not +suppose that we conceive of ourselves as exiles from the graces and +amenities of an older date than we, tho very much at home in a state +of things not yet all it might be or should be, but which we mean to +make so, and which we find both wholesome and pleasant for men (tho +perhaps not for _dilettanti_) to live in. "The full tide of human +existence"[40] may be felt here as keenly as Johnson felt it at +Charing Cross, and in a larger sense. I know one person who is +singular enough to think Cambridge the very best spot on the habitable +globe. "Doubtless God could have made a better, but doubtless He never +did." + +[Footnote 40: A remark of Dr. Johnson's as reported by Boswell.] + +It will take England a great while to get over her airs of patronage +toward us, or even passably to conceal them. She can not help +confounding the people with the country, and regarding us as lusty +juveniles. She has a conviction that whatever good there is in us is +wholly English, when the truth is that we are worth nothing except so +far as we have disinfected ourselves of Anglicism. She is especially +condescending just now, and lavishes sugar-plums on us as if we had +not outgrown them. I am no believer in sudden conversions, especially +in sudden conversions to a favorable opinion of people who have just +proved you to be mistaken in judgment and therefore unwise in policy. +I never blamed her for not wishing well to democracy--how should +she?--but _Alabamas_ are not wishes. Let her not be too hasty in +believing Mr. Reverdy Johnson's[41] pleasant words. Tho there is no +thoughtful man in America who would not consider a war with England +the greatest of calamities, yet the feeling toward her here is very +far from cordial, whatever our minister may say in the effusion that +comes after ample dining. Mr. Adams,[42] with his famous "My Lord, +this means war," perfectly represented his country. Justly or not, we +have a feeling that we have been wronged, not merely insulted. The +only sure way of bringing about a healthy relation between the two +countries is for Englishmen to clear their minds of the notion that we +are always to be treated as a kind of inferior and deported Englishman +whose nature they perfectly understand, and whose back they +accordingly stroke the wrong way of the fur with amazing perseverance. +Let them learn to treat us naturally on our merits as human beings, as +they would a German or a Frenchman, and not as if we were a kind of +counterfeit Briton whose crime appeared in every shade of difference, +and before long there would come that right feeling which we naturally +call a good understanding. The common blood, and still more the common +language, are fatal instruments of misapprehension. Let them give up +trying to understand us, still more thinking that they do, and acting +in various absurd ways as the necessary consequence, for they will +never arrive at that devoutly-to-be-wished consummation till they +learn to look at us as we are and not as they suppose us to be. Dear +old long-estranged mother-in-law, it is a great many years since we +parted. Since 1660, when you married again, you have been a +step-mother to us. Put on your spectacles, dear madam. Yes, we have +grown, and changed likewise. You would not let us darken your doors, +if you could possibly help it. + +[Footnote 41: Reverdy Johnson of Maryland, Mr. Adams's successor as +minister to England, negotiated a settlement of the _Alabama_ dispute, +which was unfavorably received in this country and finally rejected by +the Senate, which led to his recall in 1869.] + +[Footnote 42: Charles Francis Adams, our minister to England from 1861 +to 1867, made this remark to a British cabinet minister at the time of +the threatened sailing of the Laird rams.] + +We know that perfectly well. But pray, when we look to be treated as +men, don't shake that rattle in our faces, nor talk baby to us any +longer. + + "Do, child, go to it grandam, child; + Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will + Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig!" + + + + +CHARLES A. DANA + + Born in 1819, died in 1897; joined the Brook Farm Community + in 1842; an editor of the New York _Tribune_ in 1847-62; + Assistant Secretary of War in 1863-64; became editor of the + New York _Sun_ in 1868, remaining editor until his death; + published "A Household Book of Poetry" in 1857; joint editor + with George Ripley of the "American Encyclopedia." + + + + +GREELEY AS A MAN OF GENIUS[43] + + +Those who have examined the history of this remarkable man and who +know how to estimate the friendlessness, the disabilities, and the +disadvantages which surrounded his childhood and youth; the scanty +opportunities, or rather the absence of all opportunity, of education; +the destitution and loneliness amid which he struggled for the +possession of knowledge; and the unflinching zeal and pertinacity with +which he provided for himself the materials for intellectual growth, +will heartily echo the popular judgment that he was indeed a man of +genius, marked out from his cradle to inspire, animate, and instruct +others. + +[Footnote 43: From an article printed in the New York _Sun_, December +5, 1872. Greeley had died November 29, of this year.] + +From the first, when a child in his father's log cabin, lying upon the +hearth that he might read by the flickering firelight, his attention +was given almost exclusively to public and political affairs. This +determined his vocation as a journalist; and he seems never to have +felt any attraction toward any other of the intellectual professions. +He never had a thought of being a physician, a clergyman, an engineer, +or a lawyer. Private questions, individual controversies had little +concern for him except as they were connected with public interests. +Politics and newspapers were his delight, and he learned to be a +printer in order that he might become a newspaper maker. And after he +was the editor of a newspaper, what chiefly engaged him was the +discussion of political and social questions. His whole greatness as a +journalist was in this sphere. For the collection and digestion of +news, with the exception of election statistics, he had no great +fondness and no special ability. He valued talent in that department +only because he knew it was essential to the success of the newspaper +he loved. His own thoughts were always elsewhere. + +Accordingly there have been journalists who as such, strictly +speaking, have surpassed him. Minds not devoted to particular +doctrines, not absorbed in the advocacy of cherished ideas--in a word, +minds that believe little and aim only at the passing success of a +day--may easily excel one like him in the preparation of a mere +newspaper. Mr. Greeley was the antipodes of all such persons. He was +always absolutely in earnest. His convictions were intense; he had +that peculiar courage, most precious in a great man, which enables him +to adhere to his own line of action despite the excited appeals of +friends and the menaces of variable public opinion; and his constant +purpose was to assert his principles, to fight for them, and present +them to the public in the way most likely to give them the same hold +upon other minds which they had upon his own. In fact, he was not so +much a journalist, in the proper meaning of that term, as a +pamphleteer or writer of leading articles. + +In this sphere of effort he had scarcely an equal. His command of +language was extraordinary, tho he had little imagination and his +vocabulary was limited; but he possest the faculty of expressing +himself in a racy, virile manner, within the apprehension of every +reader. As he treated every topic in a practical rather than a +philosophical spirit, and with strong feeling rather than infallible +logic, so he never wrote above the heads of the public. What he said +was plain, clear, striking. His illustrations were quaint and homely, +sometimes even vulgar, but they never failed to tell. He was gifted +also with an excellent humor which greatly enlivened his writing. In +retort, especially when provoked, he was dangerous to his antagonist; +and tho his reasoning might be faulty, he would frequently gain his +cause by a flash of wit that took the public, and, as it were, hustled +his adversary out of court. But he was not always a victorious +polemic. His vehemence in controversy was sometimes too precipitate +for his prudence; he would rush into a fight with his armor +unfastened, and with only a part of the necessary weapons; and as the +late Washington Hunt[44] once exprest it, he could be more damaging to +his friends than to his opponents.... + +[Footnote 44: Governor of New York in 1851-53, having been elected by +the Whigs.] + +The occasional uncertainty of his judgment was probably due, in a +measure, to the deficiency of his education. Self-educated men are not +always endowed with the strong logical faculty and sure good sense +which are developed and strengthened by thorough intellectual culture. +Besides, a man of powerful intellect who is not regularly disciplined +is apt to fall into an exaggerated mental self-esteem from which more +accurate training and information would have preserved him. But the +very imperfection of Greeley's early studies had a compensation in the +fact that they left him, in all the tendencies and habits of his mind, +an American. No foreign mixture of thought or tradition went to the +composition of his strong intelligence. Of all the great men who have +become renowned on this side of the Atlantic he was most purely and +entirely the product of the country and its institutions. Accordingly, +a sturdy reliance on his own conclusions and a readiness to defy the +world in their behalf were among his most strongly marked +characteristics. + +But a kind of moral unsteadiness diminished his power. The miseries of +his childhood had left their trace in a querulous, lamentable, +helpless tone of feeling, into which he fell upon any little +misfortune or disappointment; and as he grew older he came to lack +hope. + + + + +JAMES PARTON + + Born in 1822, died in 1891; noted biographer and + miscellaneous writer; published "Life of Horace Greeley" in + 1855, "Aaron Burr" in 1857, "Andrew Jackson" in 1860, + "Benjamin Franklin" in 1864, "Thomas Jefferson" in 1874, + "Voltaire" in 1881; author of several other books. + + + + +AARON BURR AND MADAME JUMEL[45] + + +In the year 1822 M. Jumel lost a considerable part of his fortune, and +madame returned alone to New York, bringing with her a prodigious +quantity of grand furniture and paintings. Retiring to a seat in the +upper part of Manhattan Island, which she possest in her own +right,[46] she began with native energy the task of restoring her +husband's broken fortunes. She cultivated her farm; she looked +vigilantly to the remains of the estate; she economized. In 1828, when +M. Jumel returned to the United States, they were not as rich as in +former days, but their estate was ample for all rational purposes and +enjoyments. In 1832 M. Jumel, a man of magnificent proportions, very +handsome, and perfectly preserved (a great waltzer at seventy), was +thrown from a wagon and fatally injured. He died in a few days. Madame +was then little past her prime. + +[Footnote 45: From the "Life of Burr."] + +[Footnote 46: Still standing on an eminence near High Bridge and +popularly known as the Jumel House, tho it would more properly be +called the Morris House. It was built by Col. Roger Morris of the +British army after the old French war, his wife being Mary Philipse, +of Philipse Manor, a former sweetheart of Washington. During +Washington's sojourn in New York in 1776 it became his headquarters. +It is now owned by New York City and has become a museum of historical +relics.] + +There was talk of cholera in the city. Madame Jumel resolved upon +taking a carriage tour in the country. Before setting out she wished +to take legal advice respecting some real estate, and as Colonel +Burr's reputation in that department was preeminent, to his office in +Reade street she drove. In other days he had known her well, and tho +many an eventful year had passed since he had seen her, he recognized +her at once. He received her in his courtliest manner, complimented +her with admirable tact, listened with soft deference to her +statement. He was the ideal man of business--confidential, +self-possest, polite--giving his client the flattering impression that +the faculties of his whole soul were concentrated upon the affair in +hand. She was charmed, yet feared him. He took the papers, named the +day when his opinion would be ready, and handed her to her carriage +with winning grace. At seventy-eight years of age, he was still +straight, active, agile, fascinating. + +On the appointed day she sent to his office a relative, a student of +law, to receive his opinion. This young gentleman, timid and +inexperienced, had an immense opinion of Burr's talents; had heard all +good and all evil of him; supposed him to be, at least, the acutest of +possible men. He went. Burr behaved to him in a manner so exquisitely +pleasing that, to this hour, he has the liveliest recollection of the +scene. No topic was introduced but such as were familiar and +interesting to young men. His manners were such as this age of slangy +familiarity can not so much as imagine. The young gentleman went home +to Madame Jumel only to extol and glorify him. + +Madame and her party began their journey, revisiting Ballston, +whither, in former times, she had been wont to go in a chariot drawn +by eight horses; visiting Saratoga, then in the beginning of its +celebrity, where, in exactly ten minutes after her arrival, the +decisive lady bought a house and all it contained. Returning to New +York to find that her mansion had been despoiled by robbers in her +absence, she lived for a while in the city. Colonel Burr called upon +the young gentleman who had been madame's messenger, and, after their +acquaintance had ripened, said to him, "Come into my office; I can +teach you more in a year than you can learn in ten in an ordinary +way." The proposition being submitted to Madame Jumel, she, anxious +for the young man's advancement, gladly and gratefully consented. He +entered the office. Burr kept him close at his books. He did teach him +more in a year than he could have learned in ten in an ordinary way. +Burr lived then in Jersey City. His office (23 Nassau street) swarmed +with applicants for aid, and he seemed now to have quite lost the +power of refusing. In no other respects, bodily or mental, did he +exhibit signs of decrepitude. + +Some months passed on without his again meeting Madame Jumel. At the +suggestion of the student, who felt exceedingly grateful to Burr for +the solicitude with which he assisted in his studies, Madame Jumel +invited Colonel Burr to dinner. It was a grand banquet, at which he +displayed all the charms of his manner, and shone to conspicuous +advantage. On handing to dinner the giver of the feast, he said: "I +give you my hand, madame; my heart has long been yours." This was +supposed to be merely a compliment, and was little remarked at the +time. Colonel Burr called upon the lady; called frequently; became +ever warmer in his attentions; proposed, at length, and was refused. +He still plied his suit, however, and obtained at last, not the lady's +consent, but an undecided No. Improving his advantage on the instant, +he said, in a jocular manner, that he should bring out a clergyman to +Fort Washington on a certain day, and there he would once more solicit +her hand. + +He was as good as his word. At the time appointed, he drove out in his +gig to the lady's country residence, accompanied by Dr. Bogart, the +very clergyman who, just fifty years before, had married him to the +mother of his Theodosia. The lady was embarrassed, and still refused. +But then the scandal! And, after all, why not? Her estate needed a +vigilant guardian, and the old house was lonely. After much +hesitation, she at length consented to be drest, and to receive her +visitors. And she was married. The ceremony was witnessed only by the +members of Madame Jumel's family, and by the eight servants of the +household, who peered eagerly in at the doors and windows. The +ceremony over, Mrs. Burr ordered supper. Some bins of M. Jumel's +wine-cellar, that had not been opened for half a century, were laid +under contribution. The little party was a very merry one. The parson, +in particular, it is remembered, was in the highest spirits, +overflowing with humor and anecdote. Except for Colonel Burr's great +age (which was not apparent), the match seemed not an unwise one. The +lurking fear he had had of being a poor and homeless old man was put +to rest. She had a companion who had been ever agreeable, and her +estate a steward than whom no one living was supposed to be more +competent. + +As a remarkable circumstance connected with this marriage, it may be +just mentioned that there was a woman in New York who had aspired to +the hand of Colonel Burr, and who, when she heard of his union with +another, wrung her hands and shed tears! A feeling of that nature can +seldom, since the creation of man, have been excited by the marriage +of a man on the verge of fourscore. + +A few days after the wedding the "happy pair" paid a visit to +Connecticut, of which State a nephew of Colonel Burr was then +governor. They were received with attention. At Hartford Burr advised +his wife to sell out her shares in the bridge over the Connecticut at +that place, and invest the proceeds in real estate. She ordered them +sold. The stock was in demand, and the shares brought several thousand +dollars. The purchasers offered to pay her the money, but she said, +"No; pay it to my husband." To him, accordingly, it was paid, and he +had it sewed up in his pocket, a prodigious bulk, and brought it to +New York, and deposited it in his own bank, to his own credit. + +Texas was then beginning to attract the tide of emigration which, a +few years later, set so strongly thither. Burr had always taken a +great interest in that country. Persons with whom he had been +variously connected in life had a scheme on foot for settling a large +colony of Germans on a tract of land in Texas. A brig had been +chartered, and the project was in a state of forwardness, when the +possession of a sum of money enabled Burr to buy shares in the +enterprise. The greater part of the money which he had brought from +Hartford was invested in this way. It proved a total loss. The time +had not yet come for emigration to Texas. The Germans became +discouraged and separated, and, to complete the failure of the scheme, +the title of the lands in the confusion of the times proved defective. +Meanwhile madame, who was a remarkably thrifty woman, with a talent +for the management of property, wondered that her husband made no +allusion to the subject of the investment; for the Texas speculation +had not been mentioned to her. She caused him to be questioned on the +subject. He begged to intimate to the lady's messenger that it was no +affair of hers, and requested him to remind the lady that she now had +a husband to manage her affairs, and one who would manage them. + +Coolness between the husband and wife was the result of this colloquy. +Then came remonstrances. Then estrangement. Burr got into the habit of +remaining at his office in the city. Then partial reconciliation. Full +of schemes and speculations to the last, without retaining any of his +former ability to operate successfully, he lost more money, and more, +and more. The patience of the lady was exhausted. She filed a +complaint accusing him of infidelity, and praying that he might have +no more control or authority over her affairs. The accusation is now +known to have been groundless; nor, indeed, at the time was it +seriously believed. It was used merely as the most convenient legal +mode of depriving him of control over her property. At first he +answered the complaint vigorously, but afterward he allowed it to go +by default, and proceedings were carried no further. A few short weeks +of happiness, followed by a few months of alternate estrangement and +reconciliation, and this union, that began not inauspiciously, was, in +effect, tho never in law, dissolved. What is strangest of all is that +the lady, tho she never saw her husband during the last two years of +his life, cherished no ill-will toward him, and shed tears at his +death. To this hour Madame Jumel thinks and speaks of him with +kindness, attributing what was wrong or unwise in his conduct to the +infirmities of age. + +Men of seventy-eight have been married before and since. But, +probably, never has there been another instance of a man of that age +winning a lady of fortune and distinction, grieving another by his +marriage, and exciting suspicions of incontinence against himself by +his attentions to a third! + + + + +FRANCIS PARKMAN + + Born in 1823, died in 1893; graduated from Harvard in 1844; + studied law, but abandoned it for literature; his eyesight + so defective he was nearly blind; professor at Harvard in + 1871-72; published his "Conspiracy of Pontiac" in 1851, + "Pioneers of France in the New World" in 1865, "Jesuits in + North America" in 1867, "La Salle and the Discovery of the + Great West" in 1869, "The Old Régime in Canada" in 1874, + "Count Frontenac" in 1877, "Montcalm and Wolfe" in 1884, "A + Half-Century of Conflict" in 1892. + + + + +I + +CHAMPLAIN'S BATTLE WITH THE IROQUOIS[47] + +(1609) + + +It was ten o'clock in the evening when, near a projecting point of +land, which was probably Ticonderoga, they descried dark objects in +motion on the lake before them. These were a flotilla of Iroquois +canoes, heavier and slower than theirs, for they were made of oak +bark. Each party saw the other, and the mingled war-cries pealed over +the darkened water. The Iroquois, who were near the shore, having no +stomach for an aquatic battle, landed, and, making night hideous with +their clamors, began to barricade themselves. Champlain could see them +in the woods, laboring like beavers, hacking down trees with iron axes +taken from the Canadian tribes in war, and with stone hatchets of +their own making. The allies remained on the lake, a bowshot from the +hostile barricade, their canoes made fast together by poles lasht +across. All night they danced with as much vigor as the frailty of +their vessels would permit, their throats making amends for the +enforced restraint of their limbs. It was agreed on both sides that +the fight should be deferred till daybreak; but meanwhile a commerce +of abuse, sarcasm, menace, and boasting gave unceasing exercise to the +lungs and fancy of the combatants--"much," says Champlain, "like the +besiegers and besieged in a beleaguered town." + +[Footnote 47: From Chapter X of "The Pioneers of France in the New +World." Copyright, 1865, by Francis Parkman. Published by Little, +Brown & Co. It may be noted here that one of the most remarkable +coincidences in the history of exploration is the fact that, at the +time of this battle between Champlain and the Iroquois, Henry Hudson +was ascending the river that bears his name. Hudson went as far as the +site of Albany. The two explorers, therefore, at the same time had +reached points distant from each other only about one hundred miles, +and yet each was unaware of the other's presence. Champlain and Hudson +represented the opposing forces in race and system of government +which, from that time until the death of Montcalm at Quebec, were to +contend for mastery of the North American continent.] + +As day approached, he and his two followers put on the light armor of +the time. Champlain wore the doublet and long hose then in vogue. Over +the doublet he buckled on a breastplate, and probably a back-piece, +while his thighs were protected by cuisses of steel, and his head by a +plumed casque. Across his shoulder hung the strap of his bandoleer, or +ammunition-box; at his side was his sword, and in his hand his +arquebus. Such was the equipment of this ancient Indian-fighter, whose +exploits date eleven years before the landing of the Puritans at +Plymouth, and sixty-six years before King Philip's War. + +Each of the three Frenchmen was in a separate canoe, and, as it grew +light, they kept themselves hidden, either by lying at the bottom, or +covering themselves with an Indian robe. The canoes approached the +shore, and all landed without opposition at some distance from the +Iroquois, whom they presently could see filing out of their barricade, +tall, strong men, some two hundred in number, the boldest and fiercest +warriors of North America. They advanced through the forest with a +steadiness which excited the admiration of Champlain. Among them could +be seen three chiefs, made conspicuous by their tall plumes. Some bore +shields of wood and hide, and some were covered with a kind of armor +made of tough twigs interlaced with a vegetable fiber supposed by +Champlain to be cotton. + +The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries for their +champion, and opened their ranks that he might pass to the front. He +did so, and, advancing before his red companions in arms, stood +revealed to the gaze of the Iroquois, who, beholding the warlike +apparition in their path, stared in mute amazement. "I looked at +them," says Champlain, "and they looked at me. When I saw them getting +ready to shoot their arrows at us, I leveled my arquebus, which I had +loaded with four balls, and aimed straight at one of the three chiefs. +The shot brought down two, and wounded another. On this, our Indians +set up such a yelling that one could not have heard a thunder-clap, +and all the while the arrows flew thick on both sides. The Iroquois +were greatly astonished and frightened to see two of their men killed +so quickly, in spite of their arrow-proof armor. As I was reloading, +one of my companions fired a shot from the woods, which so increased +their astonishment that, seeing their chiefs dead, they abandoned the +field and fled into the depth of the forest." The allies dashed after +them. Some of the Iroquois were killed, and more were taken. Camp, +canoes, provisions, all were abandoned, and many weapons flung down in +the panic flight. The victory was complete. + +At night the victors led out one of the prisoners, told him that he +was to die by fire, and ordered him to sing his death-song, if he +dared. Then they began the torture, and presently scalped their victim +alive, when Champlain, sickening at the sight, begged leave to shoot +him. They refused, and he turned away in anger and disgust; on which +they called him back and told him to do as he pleased. He turned again +and a shot from his arquebus put the wretch out of misery. + +The scene filled him with horror; but, a few months later, on the +Place de la Grève at Paris, he might have witnessed tortures equally +revolting and equally vindictive, inflicted on the regicide +Ravaillac[48] by the sentence of grave and learned judges. + +[Footnote 48: Ravaillac, a religious fanatic, was the assassin of +Henry IV of France. After climbing on to the rear of the King's +carriage in one of the streets of Paris, he stabbed the King twice, +the second wound proving fatal. Ravaillac met his death by being torn +asunder by horses.] + + + + +II + +THE DEATH OF LA SALLE[49] + +(1687) + + +Night came; the woods grew dark; the evening meal was finished, and +the evening pipes were smoked. The order of the guard was arranged; +and, doubtless by design, the first hour of the night was assigned to +Moranget, the second to Saget, and the third to Nika. Gun in hand, +each stood watch in turn over the silent but not sleeping forms around +him, till, his time expiring, he called the man who was to relieve +him, wrapt himself in his blanket, and was soon buried in a slumber +that was to be his last. Now the assassins rose. Duhaut and Hiens +stood with their guns cocked, ready to shoot down any one of the +destined victims who should resist or fly. The surgeon, with an ax, +stole toward the three sleepers, and struck a rapid blow at each in +turn. Saget and Nika died with little movement; but Moranget started +spasmodically into a sitting posture, gasping and unable to speak; and +the murderers compelled De Marle, who was not in their plot, to +compromise himself by dispatching him. + +[Footnote 49: From Chapter XXVII of "La Salle and the Discovery of the +Great West." La Salle was assassinated by some of his own men, near a +branch of the Trinity river in Texas. He had sailed from France in +1684 for the purpose of founding a colony at the mouth of the +Mississippi, and had landed at Matagorda Bay, mistaking it for an +outlet of the Mississippi. He was about to sail for Canada in order to +get supplies for his colony, when he met the fate here described. +Copyright, 1860, 1879, 1897, by Francis Parkman, published by Little, +Brown & Company.] + +The floodgates of murder were open, and the torrent must have its way. +Vengeance and safety alike demanded the death of La Salle. Hiens, or +"English Jem," alone seems to have hesitated; for he was one of those +to whom that stern commander had always been partial. Meanwhile, the +intended victim was still at his camp, about six miles distant. It is +easy to picture, with sufficient accuracy, the features of the +scene--the sheds of bark and branches, beneath which, among blankets +and buffalo-robes, camp utensils, pack-saddles, rude harness, guns, +powder-horns, and bullet-pouches, the men lounged away the hour, +sleeping or smoking, or talking among themselves; the blackened +kettles that hung from tripods of poles over the fires; the Indians +strolling about the place or lying, like dogs in the sun, with eyes +half-shut, yet all observant; and, in the neighboring meadow, the +horses grazing under the eye of a watchman. + +It was the eighteenth of March. Moranget and his companions had been +expected to return the night before; but the whole day passed, and +they did not appear. La Salle became very anxious. He resolved to go +and look for them; but, not well knowing the way, he told the Indians +who were about the camp that he would give them a hatchet if they +would guide him. One of them accepted the offer; and La Salle prepared +to set out in the morning, at the same time directing Joutel to be +ready to go with him. Joutel says: "That evening, while we were +talking about what could have happened to the absent men, he seemed +to have a presentiment of what was to take place. He asked me if I had +heard of any machinations against them, or if I had noticed any bad +design on the part of Duhaut and the rest. I answered that I had heard +nothing, except that they sometimes complained of being found fault +with so often; and that this was all I knew, besides which, as they +were persuaded that I was in his interest, they would not have told me +of any bad design they might have. We were very uneasy all the rest of +the evening." + +In the morning La Salle set out with his Indian guide. He had changed +his mind with regard to Joutel, whom he now directed to remain in +charge of the camp and to keep a careful watch. He told the friar +Anastase Douay to come with him instead of Joutel, whose gun, which +was the best in the party, he borrowed for the occasion, as well as +his pistol. The three proceeded on their way--La Salle, the friar, and +the Indian. "All the way," writes the friar, "he spoke to me of +nothing but matters of piety, grace, and predestination; enlarging on +the debt he owed to God, who had saved him from so many perils during +more than twenty years of travel in America. Suddenly, I saw him +overwhelmed with a profound sadness, for which he himself could not +account. He was so much moved that I scarcely knew him." He soon +recovered his usual calmness; and they walked on till they approached +the camp of Duhaut, which was on the farther side of a small river. +Looking about him with the eye of a woodsman, La Salle saw two eagles +circling in the air nearly over him, as if attracted by carcasses of +beasts or men. He fired his gun and his pistol, as a summons to any of +his followers who might be within hearing. The shots reached the ears +of the conspirators. + +Rightly conjecturing by whom they were fired, several of them, led by +Duhaut, crossed the river at a little distance above, where trees or +other intervening objects hid them from sight. Duhaut and the surgeon +crouched like Indians in the long, dry, reed-like grass of the last +summer's growth, while L'Archeveque stood in sight near the bank. La +Salle, continuing to advance, soon saw him, and calling to him, +demanded where was Moranget. The man, without lifting his hat, or any +show of respect, replied in an agitated and broken voice, but with a +tone of studied insolence, that Moranget was strolling about +somewhere. La Salle rebuked and menaced him. He rejoined with +increased insolence, drawing back, as he spoke, toward the ambuscade, +while the incensed commander advanced to chastise him. At that moment, +a shot was fired from the grass, instantly followed by another; and, +pierced through the brain, La Salle dropt dead. + +The friar at his side stood terror-stricken, unable to advance or to +fly; when Duhaut, rising from the ambuscade, called out to him to take +courage, for he had nothing to fear. The murderers now came forward, +and with wild looks gathered about their victim. "There thou liest, +great Bashaw! There thou liest!" exclaimed the surgeon Liotot, in base +exultation over the unconscious corpse. With mockery and insult, they +stript it naked, dragged it into the bushes, and left it there, a prey +to buzzards and wolves. + +Thus, in the vigor of his manhood, at the age of forty-three, died +Robert Cavelier de La Salle, "one of the greatest men," writes Tonty, +"of this age"; without question one of the most remarkable explorers +whose names live in history. His faithful officer Joutel thus sketches +his portrait: "His firmness, his courage, his great knowledge of the +arts and sciences, which made him equal to every undertaking, and his +untiring energy, which enabled him to surmount every obstacle, would +have won at last a glorious success for his grand enterprise, had not +all his fine qualities been counterbalanced by a haughtiness of manner +which often made him unsupportable, and by a harshness toward those +under his command which drew upon him an implacable hatred, and was at +last the cause of his death." + +The enthusiasm of the disinterested and chivalrous Champlain was not +the enthusiasm of La Salle, nor had he any part in the self-devoted +zeal of the early Jesuit explorers. He belonged not to the age of the +knight-errant and the saint, but to the modern world of practical +study and practical action. He was the hero, not of a principle nor of +a faith, but simply of a fixt idea and a determined purpose. As often +happens with concentered and energetic natures, his purpose was to him +a passion and an inspiration; and he clung to it with a certain +fanaticism of devotion. It was the offspring of an ambition vast and +comprehensive, yet acting in the interest both of France and of +civilization. + +Serious in all things, incapable of the lighter pleasures, incapable +of repose, finding no joy but in the pursuit of great designs, too shy +for society and too reserved for popularity, often unsympathetic and +always seeming so, smothering emotions which he could not utter, +schooled to universal distrust, stern to his followers and pitiless to +himself, bearing the brunt of every hardship and every danger, +demanding of others an equal constancy joined to an implicit +deference, heeding no counsel but his own, attempting the impossible +and grasping at what was too vast to hold--he contained in his own +complex and painful nature the chief springs of his triumphs, his +failures, and his death. + +It is easy to reckon up his defects, but it is not easy to hide from +sight the Roman virtues that redeemed them. Beset by a throng of +enemies, he stands, like the King of Israel, head and shoulders above +them all. He was a tower of adamant, against whose impregnable front +hardship and danger, the rage of man and of the elements, the southern +sun, the northern blast, fatigue, famine, and disease, delay, +disappointment, and deferred hope emptied their quivers in vain. That +very pride which, Coriolanus-like, declared itself most sternly in the +thickest press of foes, has in it something to challenge admiration. +Never, under the impenetrable mail of paladin or crusader, beat a +heart of more intrepid mettle than within the stoic panoply that armed +the breast of La Salle. To estimate aright the marvels of his patient +fortitude, one must follow on his track through the vast scene of his +interminable journeyings, those thousands of weary miles of forest, +marsh, and river, where, again and again, in the bitterness of baffled +striving, the untiring pilgrim pushed onward toward the goal which he +was never to attain. America owes him an enduring memory; for, in this +masculine figure, she sees the pioneer who guided her to the +possession of her richest heritage. + + + + +III + +THE COMING OF FRONTENAC TO CANADA[50] + +(1672) + + +Count Frontenac came of an ancient and noble race, said to have been of +Basque origin. His father held a high post in the household of Louis XIII, +who became the child's godfather, and gave him his own name. At the age of +fifteen, the young Louis showed an uncontrollable passion for the life of a +soldier. He was sent to the seat of war in Holland, to serve under the +Prince of Orange. At the age of nineteen, he was a volunteer at the siege +of Hesdin; in the next year he was at Arras, where he distinguished himself +during a sortie of the garrison; in the next, he took part in the siege of +Aire; and, in the next, in those of Callioure and Perpignan. At the age of +twenty-three, he was made colonel of the regiment of Normandy, which he +commanded in repeated battles and sieges of the Italian campaign. He was +several times wounded, and in 1646 he had an arm broken at the siege of +Orbitello. In the same year, when twenty-six years old, he was raised to +the rank of maréchal de camp, equivalent to that of brigadier-general. A +year or two later we find him at Paris, at the house of his father, on the +Quai des Célestins. + +[Footnote 50: From Chapters I and II of "Count Frontenac and New +France Under Louis XIV." Copyright, 1877, by Francis Parkman. +Published by Little, Brown & Company.] + +In the same neighborhood lived La Grange-Trianon, Sieur de Neuville, a +widower of fifty, with one child, a daughter of sixteen, whom he had +placed in the charge of his relative, Madame de Bouthillier. Frontenac +fell in love with her. Madam de Bouthillier opposed the match, and +told La Grange that he might do better for his daughter than marry her +to a man who, say what he might, had but twenty thousand francs a +year. La Grange was weak and vacillating: sometimes he listened to his +prudent kinswoman, and sometimes to the eager suitor; treated him as a +son-in-law, carried love messages from him to his daughter, and ended +by refusing him her hand, and ordering her to renounce him on pain of +being immured in a convent. Neither Frontenac nor his mistress was of +a pliant temper. In the neighborhood was the little church of St. +Pierre aux Boeufs, which had the privilege of uniting couples without +the consent of their parents; and here, on a Wednesday in October, +1648, the lovers were married in presence of a number of Frontenac's +relatives. La Grange was furious at the discovery; but his anger soon +cooled, and complete reconciliation followed. + +The happiness of the newly wedded pair was short. Love soon changed to +aversion, at least on the part of the bride. She was not of a tender +nature; her temper was imperious, and she had a restless craving for +excitement. Frontenac, on his part, was the most wayward and +headstrong of men. She bore him a son; but maternal cares were not to +her liking.... + +At Versailles there is a portrait of a lady, beautiful and young. She +is painted as Minerva, a plumed helmet on her head, and a shield on +her arm. In a corner of the canvas is written Anne de La +Grange-Trianon, Comtesse de Frontenac. This blooming goddess was the +wife of the future governor of Canada. + +Madame de Frontenac, at the age of about twenty, was a favorite +companion of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, the grand-daughter of Henry +IV and a daughter of the weak and dastardly Gaston, Duke of Orleans. +Nothing in French annals has found more readers than the story of the +exploit of this spirited princess at Orleans during the civil war of +the Fronde. Her cousin Condé, chief of the revolt, had found favor in +her eyes; and she had espoused his cause against her cousin, the +King.... + +In 1669, a Venetian embassy came to France to beg for aid against the +Turks, who for more than two years had attacked Candia in overwhelming +force. The ambassadors offered to place their own troops under French +command, and they asked Turenne to name a general officer equal to the +task. Frontenac had the signal honor of being chosen by the first +soldier of Europe for this most arduous and difficult position. He +went accordingly. The result increased his reputation for ability and +courage; but Candia was doomed, and its chief fortress fell into the +hands of the infidels, after a protracted struggle, which is said to +have cost them a hundred and eighty thousand men. + +Three years later Frontenac received the appointment of Governor and +Lieutenant-General for the King in all New France. "He was," says +Saint-Simon, "a man of excellent parts, living much in society, and +completely ruined. He found it hard to bear the imperious temper of +his wife and he was given the government of Canada to deliver him from +her, and afford him some means of living." Certain scandalous songs of +the day assign a different motive for his appointment. Louis XIV was +enamored of Madame de Montespan. She had once smiled upon Frontenac; +and it is said that the jealous King gladly embraced the opportunity +of removing from his presence and from hers a lover who had +forestalled him. + +Frontenac's wife had no thought of following him across the sea, a +more congenial life awaiting her at home.... + +Frontenac was fifty-two years old when he landed at Quebec. If time +had done little to cure his many faults, it had done nothing to weaken +the springs of his unconquerable vitality. In his ripe middle age he +was as keen, fiery, and perversely headstrong as when he quarreled +with Prefontaine in the hall at St. Fargeau. + +Had nature disposed him to melancholy, there was much in his position +to awaken it. A man of courts and camps, born and bred in the focus of +a most gorgeous civilization, he was banished to the ends of the +earth, among savage hordes and half-reclaimed forests, to exchange the +splendors of St. Germain and the dawning glories of Versailles for a +stern gray rock, haunted by somber priests, rugged merchants and +traders, blanketed Indians, and wild bushrangers. But Frontenac was a +man of action. He wasted no time in vain regrets, and set himself to +his work with the elastic vigor of youth. His first impressions had +been very favorable. When, as he sailed up the St. Lawrence, the basin +of Quebec opened before him, his imagination kindled with the grandeur +of the scene. "I never," he wrote, "saw anything more superb than the +position of this town. It could not be better situated as the future +capital of a great empire." + + + + +IV + +THE DEATH OF ISAAC JOGUES[51] + +(1646) + + +Late in the autumn a party of the Indians set forth on their yearly +deer-hunt, and Jogues was ordered to go with them. Shivering and +half-famished, he followed them through the chill November forest, and +shared their wild bivouac in the depths of the wintry desolation. The +game they took was devoted to Areskoui, their god, and eaten in his +honor. Jogues would not taste the meat offered to a demon; and thus he +starved in the midst of plenty. At night, when the kettle was slung, +and the savage crew made merry around their fire, he crouched in a +corner of the hut, gnawed by hunger, and pierced to the bone with +cold. They thought his presence unpropitious to their hunting, and the +women especially hated him. His demeanor at once astonished and +incensed his masters. He brought them fire-wood, like a squaw; he did +their bidding without a murmur, and patiently bore their abuse; but +when they mocked at his God, and laughed at his devotions, their slave +assumed an air and tone of authority, and sternly rebuked them. + +[Footnote 51: From Chapters XVI and XX of "The Jesuits in North +America." Copyright, 1867, 1895, by Francis Parkman. Published by +Little, Brown & Company. The site of Jogues's martyrdom is near +Auriesville in the Mohawk valley, where a memorial chapel in his honor +is now maintained, the Rev. John J. Wynne, S. J., having been active +in securing and maintaining it.] + +He would sometimes escape from "this Babylon," as he calls the hut, +and wander in the forest, telling his beads and repeating passages of +Scripture. In a remote and lonely spot he cut the bark in the form of +the cross from the trunk of a great tree; and here he made his +prayers. This living martyr, half-clad in shaggy furs, kneeling on the +snow among the icicled rocks and beneath the gloomy pines, bowing in +adoration before the emblem of the faith in which was his only +consolation and his only hope, is alike a theme for the pen and a +subject for the pencil.... + +He remained two days, half-stifled, in this foul lurking-place,[52] +while the Indians, furious at his escape, ransacked the settlement in +vain to find him. They came off to the vessel, and so terrified the +officers that Jogues was sent on shore at night, and led to the fort. +Here he was hidden in the garret of a house occupied by a miserly old +man, to whose charge he was consigned. Food was sent to him; but, as +his host appropriated the larger part to himself, Jogues was nearly +starved. There was a compartment of his garret, separated from the +rest by a partition of boards. Here the old Dutchman, who, like many +others of the settlers, carried on a trade with the Mohawks, kept a +quantity of goods for that purpose; and hither he often brought his +customers. The boards of the partition had shrunk, leaving wide +crevices; and Jogues could plainly see the Indians, as they passed +between him and the light. They, on their part, might as easily have +seen him, if he had not, when he heard them entering the house, hidden +himself behind some barrels in the corner, where he would sometimes +remain crouched for hours, in a constrained and painful posture, +half-suffocated with heat, and afraid to move a limb. His wounded leg +began to show dangerous symptoms; but he was relieved by the care of a +Dutch, surgeon of the fort. The minister, Megapolensis, also visited +him, and did all in his power for the comfort of his Catholic brother, +with whom he seems to have been well pleased, and whom he calls "a +very learned scholar." + +[Footnote 52: Near Albany, or Fort Orange, as it was then called.] + +When Jogues had remained for six weeks in this hiding-place, his Dutch +friends succeeded in satisfying his Indian masters by the payment of a +large ransom. A vessel from Manhattan, now New York, soon after brought up +an order from the Director-General, Kieft, that he should be sent to him. +Accordingly, he was placed in a small vessel, which carried him down the +Hudson. The Dutch on board treated him with great kindness; and, to do him +honor, named after him one of the islands in the river. At Manhattan he +found a dilapidated fort, garrisoned by sixty soldiers, and containing a +stone church and the Director-General's house, together with storehouses +and barracks. Near it were ranges of small houses, occupied chiefly by +mechanics and laborers; while the dwellings of the remaining colonists, +numbering in all four or five hundred, were scattered here and there on the +island and the neighboring shores. The settlers were of different sects and +nations, but chiefly Dutch Calvinists. Kieft told his guest that eighteen +different languages were spoken at Manhattan. The colonists were in the +midst of a bloody Indian war, brought on by their own besotted cruelty; and +while Jogues was at the fort, some forty of the Dutchmen were killed on the +neighboring farms, and many barns and houses burned. + +The Director-General, with a humanity that was far from usual with +him, exchanged Jogues's squalid and savage dress for a suit of Dutch +cloth, and gave him passage in a small vessel which was then about to +sail.... + +Jogues became a center of curiosity and reverence. He was summoned to +Paris. The Queen, Anne of Austria, wished to see him; and when the +persecuted slave of the Mohawks was conducted into her presence, she +kissed his mutilated hands, while the ladies of the court thronged +around to do him homage. We are told, and no doubt with truth, that +these honors were unwelcome to the modest and single-hearted +missionary, who thought only of returning to his work of converting +the Indians. A priest with any deformity of body is debarred from +saying mass. The teeth and knives of the Iroquois had inflicted an +injury worse than the tortures imagined, for they had robbed Jogues of +the privilege which was the chief consolation of his life; but the +Pope, by a special dispensation, restored it to him, and with the +opening spring he sailed again for Canada.... + +In the evening--it was the eighteenth of October--Jogues, smarting +with his wounds and bruises, was sitting in one of the lodges, when an +Indian entered, and asked him to a feast. To refuse would have been an +offense. He arose and followed the savage, who led him to the lodge of +the Bear chief. Jogues bent his head to enter, when another Indian, +standing concealed within, at the side of the doorway, struck at him +with a hatchet. An Iroquois, called by the French Le Berger, who seems +to have followed in order to defend him, bravely held out his arm to +ward off the blow; but the hatchet cut through it, and sank into the +missionary's brain. He fell at the feet of his murderer, who at once +finished the work by hacking off his head. Lalande was left in +suspense all night, and in the morning was killed in a similar manner. +The bodies of the two Frenchmen were then thrown into the Mohawk, and +their heads displayed on the points of the palisade which enclosed the +town. + +Thus died Isaac Jogues, one of the purest examples of Roman Catholic +virtue which this western continent has seen. + + + + +V + +WHY NEW FRANCE FAILED[53] + + +New France was all head. Under king, noble, and Jesuit, the lank, lean +body would not thrive. Even commerce wore the sword, decked itself +with badges of nobility, aspired to forest seigniories and hordes of +savage retainers. Along the borders of the sea an adverse power was +strengthening and widening, with slow but stedfast growth, full of +blood and muscle--a body without a head. Each had its strength, each +its weakness, each its own modes of vigorous life: but the one was +fruitful, the other barren; the one instinct with hope, the other +darkening with shadows of despair. + +[Footnote 53: From the introduction to "The Pioneers of France in the +New World." Copyright, 1865, 1885, by Francis Parkman. Published by +Little, Brown & Company.] + +By name, local position, and character one of these communities of +freemen stands forth as the most conspicuous representative of this +antagonism--liberty and absolutism, New England and New France. The +one was the offspring of a triumphant government; the other, of an +opprest and fugitive people: the one, an unflinching champion of the +Roman Catholic reaction; the other, a vanguard of the Reform. Each +followed its natural laws of growth, and each came to its natural +results. Vitalized by the principles of its foundation, the Puritan +commonwealth grew apace. New England was preeminently the land of +material progress. Here the prize was within every man's reach; +patient industry need never doubt its reward; nay, in defiance of the +four gospels, assiduity in pursuit of gain was promoted to the rank of +a duty, and thrift and godliness were linked in equivocal wedlock. +Politically she was free; socially she suffered from that subtile and +searching oppression which the dominant opinion of a free community +may exercise over the members who compose it. As a whole, she grew +upon the gaze of the world, a signal example of expansive energy; but +she has not been fruitful in those salient and striking forms of +character which often give a dramatic life to the annals of nations +far less prosperous. + +We turn to New France, and all is reversed. Here was a bold attempt to +crush under the exactions of a grasping hierarchy, to stifle under the +curbs and trappings of a feudal monarchy a people compassed by +influences of the wildest freedom--whose schools were the forest and +the sea, whose trade was an armed barter with savages, and whose daily +life a lesson of lawless independence. But this fierce spirit had its +vent. The story of New France is from the first a story of war: of +war--for so her founders believed--with the adversary of mankind +himself; war with savage tribes and potent forest commonwealths; war +with the encroaching powers of heresy and of England. Her brave, +unthinking people were stamped with the soldier's virtues and the +soldier's faults; and in their leaders were displayed, on a grand and +novel stage, the energies, aspirations, and passions which belong to +hopes vast and vague, ill-restricted powers, and stations of command. + +The growth of New England was a result of the aggregate efforts of a +busy multitude, each in his narrow circle toiling for himself, to +gather competence or wealth. The expansion of New France was the +achievement of a gigantic ambition striving to grasp a continent. It +was a vain attempt. Long and valiantly her chiefs upheld their cause, +leading to battle a vassal population, warlike as themselves. Borne +down by numbers from without, wasted by corruption from within, New +France fell at last; and out of her fall grew revolutions whose +influence to this hour is felt through every nation of the civilized +world. + +The French dominion is a memory of the past; and when we evoke its +departed shades, they rise upon us from their graves in strange, +romantic guise. Again their ghostly camp-fires seem to burn, and the +fitful light is cast around on lord and vassal and black-robed priest, +mingled with wild forms of savage warriors, knit in close fellowship +on the same stern errand. A boundless vision grows upon us; an untamed +continent; vast wastes of forest verdure; mountains silent in primeval +sleep; river, lake, and glimmering pool; wilderness oceans mingling +with the sky. Such was the domain which France conquered for +civilization. Plumed helmets gleamed in the shade of its forests, +priestly vestments in its dens and fastnesses of ancient barbarism. +Men steeped in antique learning, pale with the close breath of the +cloister, here spent the noon and evening of their lives, ruled savage +hordes with a mild, parental sway, and stood serene before the direst +shapes of death. Men of courtly nurture, heirs to the polish of a +far-reaching ancestry, here, with their dauntless hardihood, put to +shame the boldest sons of toil. + + + + +VI + +THE RETURN OF THE COUREURS-DE-BOIS[54] + + +It was a curious scene when a party of _coureurs de bois_ returned +from their rovings. Montreal was their harboring place, and they +conducted themselves much like the crew of a man-of-war paid off after +a long voyage. As long as their beaver-skins lasted, they set no +bounds to their riot. Every house in the place, we are told, was +turned into a drinking-shop. The newcomers were bedizened with a +strange mixture of French and Indian finery; while some of them, with +instincts more thoroughly savage, stalked about the streets as naked +as a Pottawottamie or a Sioux. The clamor of tongues was prodigious, +and gambling and drinking filled the day and the night. When at last +they were sober again, they sought absolution for their sins; nor +could the priests venture to bear too hard on their unruly penitents, +lest they should break wholly with the church and dispense +thenceforth with her sacraments. + +[Footnote 54: From Chapter XVII of "The Old Régime in Canada." +Copyright, 1874, by Francis Parkman. Published by Little, Brown & Co.] + +Under such leaders as Du Lhut, the _coureurs de bois_ built forts of +palisades at various points throughout the West and Northwest. They +had a post of this sort at Detroit some time before its permanent +settlement, as well as others on Lake Superior and in the valley of +the Mississippi. They occupied them as long as it suited their +purposes, and then abandoned them to the next comer. Michillimackinac +was, however, their chief resort; and thence they would set out, two +or three together, to roam for hundreds of miles through the endless +meshwork of interlocking lakes and rivers which seams the northern +wilderness. + +No wonder that a year or two of bushranging spoiled them for +civilization. Tho not a very valuable member of society, and tho a +thorn in the side of princes and rulers, the _coureur de bois_ had his +uses, at least from an artistic point of view; and his strange figure, +sometimes brutally savage, but oftener marked with the lines of a +daredevil courage, and a reckless, thoughtless gaiety, will always be +joined to the memories of that grand world of woods which the +nineteenth century is fast civilizing out of existence. At least, he +is picturesque, and with his redskin companion serves to animate +forest scenery. Perhaps he could sometimes feel, without knowing that +he felt them, the charms of the savage nature that had adopted him. + +Rude as he was, her voice may not always have been meaningless for one +who knew her haunts so well; deep recesses where, veiled in foliage, +some wild shy rivulet steals with timid music through breathless caves +of verdure; gulfs where feathered crags rise like castle walls, where +the noonday sun pierces with keen rays athwart the torrent, and the +mossed arms of fallen pines cast wavering shadows on the illumined +foam; pools of liquid crystal turned emerald in the reflected green of +impending woods; rocks on whose rugged front the gleam of sunlit +waters dances in quivering light; ancient trees hurled headlong by the +storm to dam the raging stream with their forlorn and savage ruin; or +the stern depths of immemorial forests, dim and silent as a cavern, +columned with innumerable trunks, each like an Atlas upholding its +world of leaves, and sweating perpetual moisture down its dark and +channelled rind; some strong in youth, some grisly with decrepit age, +nightmares of strange distortion, gnarled and knotted with wens and +goitres; roots intertwined beneath like serpents petrified in an agony +of contorted strife; green and glistening mosses carpeting the rough +ground, mantling the rocks, turning pulpy stumps to mounds of verdure, +and swathing fallen trunks as, bent in the impotence of rottenness, +they lie outstretched over knoll and hollow, like moldering reptiles +of the primeval world, while around, and on and through them, springs +the young growth that fattens on their decay--the forest devouring its +own dead. Or, to turn from its funereal shade to the light and life of +the open woodland, the sheen of sparkling lakes, and mountains basking +in the glory of the summer noon, flecked by the shadows of passing +clouds that sail on snowy wings across the azure. + +Yet it would be false coloring to paint the half-savage _coureur de +bois_ as a romantic lover of nature. He liked the woods because they +emancipated him from restraint. He liked the lounging ease of the +camp-fire, and the license of Indian villages. His life has a dark and +ugly side. + + + + +GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS + + Born in 1824, died in 1892; joined the Brook Farm Community; + traveled in Europe in 1846-50; became connected with the New + York _Tribune_ in 1850; editor of _Putnam's Monthly_ in + 1852-57, with _Harper's Magazine_ in 1854, and with + _Harper's Weekly_ in 1863; prominent advocate of civil + service reform, being one of the commissioners appointed by + President Grant in 1871, but resigned on account of + differences with the President; president of the State Civil + Service League in 1880, and of the National Civil Service + Reform League afterward until his death; published "Nile + Notes of a Howadji" in 1851, "Lotus Eating" in 1852, + "Potiphar Papers" in 1853, "Prue and I" in 1856. + + + + +OUR COUSIN THE CURATE[55] + + +Our cousin the curate loved, while he was yet a boy, Flora, of the +sparkling eyes and the ringing voice. His devotion was absolute. Flora +was flattered, because all the girls, as I said, worshiped him; but +she was a gay, glancing girl, who had invaded the student's heart with +her audacious brilliancy, and was half-surprized that she had subdued +it. Our cousin--for I never think of him as my cousin only--wasted +away under the fervor of his passion. His life exhaled an incense +before her. He wrote poems to her, and sang them under her window, in +the summer moonlight. He brought her flowers and precious gifts. When +he had nothing else to give, he gave her his love in a homage so +eloquent and beautiful that the worship was like the worship of the +wise men. The gay Flora was proud and superb. She was a girl, and the +bravest and best boy loved her. She was young, and the wisest and +truest youth loved her. They lived together, we all lived together, in +the happy valley of childhood. We looked forward to manhood as +island-poets look across the sea, believing that the whole world +beyond is a blest Araby of spices. + +[Footnote 55: From Chapter VII of "Prue and I."] + +The months went by, and the young love continued. Our cousin and Flora +were only children still, and there was no engagement. The elders +looked upon the intimacy as natural and mutually beneficial. It would +help soften the boy and strengthen the girl; and they took for granted +that softness and strength were precisely what were wanted. It is a +great pity that men and women forget that they have been children. +Parents are apt to be foreigners to their sons and daughters. Maturity +is the gate of paradise, which shuts behind us; and our memories are +gradually weaned from the glories in which our nativity was cradled. + +The months went by, the children grew older, and they constantly +loved. Now Prue always smiles at one of my theories; she is entirely +skeptical of it; but it is, nevertheless, my opinion that men love +most passionately, and women most permanently. Men love at first and +most warmly; women love last and longest. This is natural enough; for +nature makes women to be won, and men to win. Men are the active, +positive force, and therefore, they are more ardent and +demonstrative.... + +Why our cousin should have loved the gay Flora so ardently was hard to +say; but that he did so, was not difficult to see. He went away to +college. He wrote the most eloquent and passionate letters; and when +he returned in vacations, he had no eyes, ears, nor heart for any +other being. I rarely saw him, for I was living away from our early +home, and was busy in a store--learning to be bookkeeper--but I heard +afterward from himself the whole story. + +One day when he came home for the holidays, he found a young foreigner +with Flora--a handsome youth, brilliant and graceful. I have asked +Prue a thousand times why women adore soldiers and foreigners. She +says it is because they love heroism and are romantic. A soldier is +professionally a hero, says Prue, and a foreigner is associated with +all unknown and beautiful regions. I hope there is no worse reason.... + +Our cousin came home and found Flora and the young foreigner +conversing. The young foreigner had large, soft, black eyes, and the +dusky skin of the tropics. His manner was languid and fascinating, +courteous and reserved. It assumed a natural supremacy, and you felt +as if here were a young prince traveling before he came into +possession of his realm.... + +Our cousin the curate no sooner saw the tropical stranger and marked +his impression upon Flora than he felt the end. As the shaft struck +his heart, his smile was sweeter, and his homage even more poetic and +reverential. I doubt if Flora understood him or herself. She did not +know, what he instinctively perceived, that she loved him less. But +there are no degrees in love; when it is less than absolute and +supreme, it is nothing. Our cousin and Flora were not formally +engaged, but their betrothal was understood by all of us as a thing of +course. He did not allude to the stranger; but as day followed day, he +saw with every nerve all that passed. Gradually--so gradually that she +scarcely noticed it--our cousin left Flora more and more with the +soft-eyed stranger, whom he saw she preferred. His treatment of her +was so full of tact, he still walked and talked with her so familiarly +that she was not troubled by any fear that he saw what she hardly saw +herself. Therefore, she was not obliged to conceal anything from him +or from herself; but all the soft currents of her heart were setting +toward the West Indian. Our cousin's cheek grew paler, and his soul +burned and wasted within him. His whole future--all his dream of +life--had been founded upon his love. It was a stately palace built +upon the sand, and now the sand was sliding away. I have read +somewhere that love will sacrifice everything but itself. But our +cousin sacrificed his love to the happiness of his mistress. He ceased +to treat her as peculiarly his own. He made no claim in word or manner +that everybody might not have made. He did not refrain from seeing +her, or speaking of her as of all his other friends; and, at length, +altho no one could say how or when the change had been made, it was +evident and understood that he was no more her lover, but that both +were the best of friends. + +He still wrote to her occasionally from college, and his letters were +those of a friend, not of a lover. He could not reproach her. I do +not believe any man is secretly surprized that a woman ceases to love +him. Her love is a heavenly favor won by no desert of his. If it +passes, he can no more complain than a flower when the sunshine leaves +it. + +Before our cousin left college Flora was married to the tropical +stranger. It was the brightest of June days, and the summer smiled +upon the bride. There were roses in her hand and orange flowers in her +hair, and the village church bell rang out over the peaceful fields. +The warm sunshine lay upon the landscape like God's blessing, and Prue +and I, not yet married ourselves, stood at an open window in the old +meeting-house, hand in hand, while the young couple spoke their vows. +Prue says that brides are always beautiful, and I, who remember Prue +herself upon her wedding-day--how can I deny it? Truly, the gay Flora +was lovely that summer morning, and the throng was happy in the old +church. But it was very sad to me, altho I only suspected then what +now I know. I shed no tears at my own wedding, but I did at Flora's, +altho I knew she was marrying a soft-eyed youth whom she dearly loved, +and who, I doubt not, dearly loved her. + +Among the group of her nearest friends was our cousin the curate. When +the ceremony was ended, he came to shake her hand with the rest. His +face was calm, and his smile sweet, and his manner unconstrained. +Flora did not blush--why should she?--but shook his hand warmly, and +thanked him for his good wishes. Then they all sauntered down the +aisle together; there were some tears with the smiles among the other +friends; our cousin handed the bride into her carriage, shook hands +with the husband, closed the door, and Flora drove away. + +I have never seen her since; I do not even know if she be living +still. But I shall always remember her as she looked that June +morning, holding roses in her hand, and wreathed with orange flowers. +Dear Flora! it was no fault of hers that she loved one man more than +another: she could not be blamed for not preferring our cousin to the +West Indian: there is no fault in the story, it is only a tragedy. + +Our cousin carried all the collegiate honors--but without exciting +jealousy or envy. He was so really the best, that his companions were +anxious he should have the sign of his superiority. He studied hard, +he thought much, and wrote well. There was no evidence of any blight +upon his ambition or career, but after living quietly in the country +for some time, he went to Europe and traveled. When he returned, he +resolved to study law, but presently relinquished it. Then he +collected materials for a history, but suffered them to lie unused. +Somehow the mainspring was gone. He used to come and pass weeks with +Prue and me. His coming made the children happy, for he sat with them, +and talked and played with them all day long, as one of themselves.... + +At length our cousin went abroad again to Europe. It was many years +ago that we watched him sail away, and when Titbottom, and Prue, and I +went home to dinner, the grace that was said that day was a fervent +prayer for our cousin the curate. Many an evening afterward, the +children wanted him, and cried themselves to sleep calling upon his +name. Many an evening still our talk flags into silence as we sit +before the fire, and Prue puts down her knitting and takes my hand, as +if she knew my thoughts, altho we do not name his name. + +He wrote us letters as he wandered about the world. They were +affectionate letters, full of observation, and thought, and +description. He lingered longest in Italy, but he said his conscience +accused him of yielding to the sirens; and he declared that his life +was running uselessly away. At last he came to England. He was charmed +with everything, and the climate was even kinder to him than that of +Italy. He went to all the famous places, and saw many of the famous +Englishmen, and wrote that he felt England to be his home. Burying +himself in the ancient gloom of a university town, altho past the +prime of life, he studied like an ambitious boy. He said again that +his life had been wine poured upon the ground, and he felt guilty. And +so our cousin became a curate.... + +Our children have forgotten their old playmate; but I am sure if there +be any children in his parish, over the sea, they love our cousin the +curate, and watch eagerly for his coming. Does his step falter now, I +wonder; is that long fair hair gray; is that laugh as musical in those +distant homes as it used to be in our nursery; has England among all +her great and good men any man so noble as our cousin the curate? + +The great book is unwritten; the great deeds are undone; in no +biographical dictionary will you find the name of our cousin the +curate. Is his life therefore lost? Have his powers been wasted? + +I do not dare to say it, for I see Bourne on the pinnacle of +prosperity, but still looking sadly for his castles in Spain; I see +Titbottom, an old deputy bookkeeper, whom nobody knows, but with his +chivalric heart loyal to children, his generous and humane spirit, +full of sweet hope and faith and devotion; I see the superb Auriel, so +lovely that the Indians would call her a smile of the Great Spirit, +and as beneficent as a saint of the calendar--how shall I say what is +lost and what is won. I know that in every way and by all His +preachers God is served and His purposes accomplished. How shall I +explain or understand? I, who am only an old bookkeeper in an old +cravat. + + + + +ARTEMUS WARD + + Born in 1834, died in England in 1867; his real name Charles + Farrar Browne; noted as a humorous lecturer here and in + England; published "Artemus Ward: His Book" in 1862; + "Artemus Ward: His Travels" in 1865; "Artemus Ward in + London" in 1867. + + + + +FORREST AS OTHELLO[56] + + +Durin a recent visit to New York the undersined went to see Edwin +Forrest. As I am into the moral show biziness myself I ginrally go to +Barnum's moral museum, where only moral peeple air admitted, partickly +on Wednesday arternoons. But this time I thot I'd go and see Ed. Ed +has bin actin out on the stage for many years. There is varis 'pinions +about his actin, Englishmen ginrally bleevin that he's far superior to +Mister Macready; but on one pint all agree, & that is that Ed draws +like a six-ox team. Ed was actin at Niblo's Garding, which looks +considerable more like a parster than a garding, but let that pars. I +sot down in the pit, took out my spectacles and commenced peroosin the +evenin's bill. The awjince was all-fired large & the boxes was full of +the elitty of New York. Several opery glasses was leveled at me by +Gotham's fairest darters, but I didn't let on as tho I noticed it, tho +mebby I did take out my sixteen-dollar silver watch & brandish it +round more than was necessary. But the best of us has our weaknesses & +if a man has gewelry let him show it. As I was peroosin the bill a +grave young man who sot near me axed me if I'd ever seen Forrest +dance the Essence of Old Virginny, "He's immense in that," sed the +young man. "He also does a fair champion jig," the young man +continnered, "but his Big Thing is the Essence of Old Virginny." Sez +I, "Fair youth, do you know what I'd do with you if you was my sun?" + +[Footnote 56: From "Artemus Ward: His Book."] + +"No," sez he. + +"Wall," sez I, "I'd appint your funeral to-morrow arternoon, & the +_korps should be ready_. You're too smart to live on this yerth." + +He didn't try any more of his capers on me. But another pussylanermuss +individooul in a red vest and patent leather boots told me his name +was Bill Astor & axed me to lend him 50 cents till early in the +mornin. I told him I'd probly send it round to him before he retired +to his virtoous couch, but if I didn't he might look for it next fall +as soon as I'd cut my corn. + +The orchestry was now fiddling with all their might & as the peeple +didn't understan anything about it they applaudid versifrusly. +Presently old Ed cum out. The play was Otheller or More of Veniss. +Otheller was writ by Wm. Shakspeer. The seene is laid in Veniss. +Otheller was a likely man & was a ginral in the Veniss army. He eloped +with Desdemony, a darter of the Hon. Mr. Brabantio who represented one +of the back districks in the Veneshun legislater. Old Brabantio was as +mad as thunder at this & tore round considerable, but finally cooled +down, telling Otheller, howsoever, that Desdemony had come it over her +par, & that he had better look out or she'd come it over him +likewise. + +Mr. and Mrs. Otheller git along very comfortable-like for a spell. She +is sweet-tempered and lovin--a nice, sensible female, never goin in +for he-female conventions, green cotton umbrellers, and pickled beats. +Otheller is a good provider and thinks all the world of his wife. She +has a lazy time of it, the hird girl doin all the cookin and washin. +Desdemony in fact don't have to git the water to wash her own hands +with. But a low cuss named Iago, who I bleeve wants to git Otheller +out of his snug government birth, now goes to work & upsets the +Otheller family in most outrajus stile. Iago falls in with a brainless +youth named Roderigo & wins all his money at poker. (Iago allers +played foul.) He thus got money enuff to carry out his onprincipled +skeem. Mike Cassio, a Irishman, is selected as a tool by Iago. Mike +was a clever feller & a orficer in Otheller's army. He liked his tods +too well, howsoever, & they floored him as they have many other +promisin young men. Iago injuces Mike to drink with him, Iago slily +throwin his whiskey over his shoulder. Mike gits as drunk as a biled +owl & allows that he can lick a yard full of the Veneshun fancy before +breakfast, without sweating a hair. He meets Roderigo & proceeds for +to smash him. A feller named Mentano undertakes to slap Cassio, when +that infatooated person runs his sword into him. + +That miserble man, Iago, pretends to be very sorry to see Mike conduck +hisself in this way & undertakes to smooth the thing over to Otheller, +who rushes in with a drawn sword & wants to know what's up. Iago +cunningly tells his story & Otheller tells Mike that he thinks a good +deal of him but that he cant train no more in his regiment. Desdemony +sympathizes with poor Mike & interceds for him with Otheller. Iago +makes him bleeve she does this because she thinks more of Mike than +she does of hisself. Otheller swallers Iagos lying tail & goes to +makin a noosence of hisself ginrally. He worries poor Desdemony +terrible by his vile insinuations & finally smothers her to death with +a piller. Mrs. Iago comes in just as Otheller has finished the fowl +deed & givs him fits right & left, showin him that he has been orfully +gulled by her miserble cuss of a husband. Iago cums in & his wife +commences rakin him down also, when he stabs her. Otheller jaws him a +spell & then cuts a small hole in his stummick with his sword. Iago +pints to Desdemony's deth bed & goes orf with a sardonic smile onto +his countenance. Otheller tells the peeple that he has dun the state +some service & they know it; axes them to do as fair a thing as they +can for him under the circumstances, & kills hisself with a +fish-knife, which is the most sensible thing he can do. This is a +breef skedule of the synopsis of the play. + +Edwin Forrest is a grate acter. I thot I saw Otheller before me all +the time he was actin &, when the curtin fell, I found my spectacles +was still mistened with salt-water, which had run from my eyes while +poor Desdemony was dyin. Betsy Jane--Betsy Jane! let us pray that our +domestic bliss may never be busted up by a Iago! + +Edwin Forrest makes money acting out on the stage. He gits five +hundred dollars a nite & his board & washin. I wish I had such a +Forrest in my Garding! + + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH + + Born in 1836; died in 1908; a literary man in New York in + early life; removing to Boston, became editor of _Every + Saturday_ in 1870-74; editor of the _Atlantic Monthly_ in + 1881-1890; among his works "The Ballad of Babie Bell" + published in 1856, "Cloth of Gold" in 1874, "Flower and + Thorn" in 1876, "Story of a Bad Boy" in 1870, "Marjorie Daw" + in 1873, "Prudence Palfrey" in 1874, "The Queen of Sheba" in + 1877, "The Stillwater Tragedy" in 1880, "From Ponkapog to + Pesth" in 1883, "The Sister's Tragedy" in 1891. + + + + +I + +A SUNRISE IN STILLWATER[57] + + +It is close upon daybreak. The great wall of pines and hemlocks that +keep off the east wind from Stillwater stretches black and +indeterminate against the sky. At intervals a dull, metallic sound, +like the guttural twang of a violin string, rises from the +frog-invested swamp skirting the highway. Suddenly the birds stir in +their nests over there in the woodland, and break into that wild +jargoning chorus with which they herald the advent of a new day. In +the apple orchards and among the plum-trees of the few gardens in +Stillwater the wrens and the robins and the blue-jays catch up the +crystal crescendo, and what a melodious racket they make of it with +their fifes and flutes and flageolets! + +[Footnote 57: From Chapter I of "The Stillwater Tragedy." Copyright, +1880, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Published by Houghton, Mifflin +Company.] + +The village lies in a trance like death. Possibly not a soul hears +this music, unless it is the watchers at the bedside of Mr. Leonard +Tappleton, the richest man in town, who has lain dying these three +days, and can not last till sunrise. Or perhaps some mother, drowsily +hushing her wakeful baby, pauses a moment and listens vacantly to the +birds singing. But who else? + +The hubbub suddenly ceases--ceases as suddenly as it began--and all is +still again in the woodland. But it is not so dark as before. A faint +glow of white light is discernible behind the ragged line of the tree +tops. The deluge of darkness is receding from the face of the earth, +as the mighty waters receded of old. + +The roofs and tall factory chimneys of Stillwater are slowly taking +shape in the gloom. Is that a cemetery coming into view yonder, with +its ghostly architecture of obelisks and broken columns and huddled +headstones? No, that is only Slocum's marble yard, with the finished +and unfinished work heaped up like snowdrifts--a cemetery in embryo. +Here and there in an outlying farm a lantern glimmers in the +barn-yard: the cattle are having their fodder betimes. Scarlet-capped +chanticleer gets himself on the nearest rail fence and lifts up his +rancorous voice like some irate old cardinal launching the curse of +Rome. Something crawls swiftly along the gray of the serpentine +turnpike--a cart, with the driver lashing a jaded horse. A quick wind +goes shivering by, and is lost in the forest. + +Now a narrow strip of two-colored gold stretches along the horizon. + +Stillwater is gradually coming to its senses. The sun has begun to +twinkle on the gilt cross of the Catholic chapel and make itself known +to the doves in the stone belfry on the South Church. The patches of +cobweb that here and there cling tremulously to the coarse grass of +the inundated meadows have turned into silver nets, and the +mill-pond--it will be steel-blue later--is as smooth and white as if +it had been paved with one vast unbroken slab out of Slocum's marble +yard. Through a row of buttonwoods on the northern skirt of the +village is seen a square, lap-streaked building, painted a +disagreeable brown, and surrounded on three sides by a platform--one +of seven or eight similar stations strung like Indian beads on a +branch thread of the Great Sagamore Railway. + +Listen! That is the jingle of the bells on the baker's cart as it +begins its rounds. From innumerable chimneys the curled smoke gives +evidence that the thrifty housewife--or, what is rarer in Stillwater, +the hired girl--has lighted the kitchen fire. + +The chimney-stack of one house at the end of a small court--the last +house on the easterly edge of the village, and standing quite +alone--sends up no smoke. Yet the carefully trained ivy over the +porch, and the lemon verbena in a tub at the foot of the steps, +intimate that the place is not unoccupied. Moreover, the little +schooner which acts as weathercock on one of the gables, and is now +heading due west, has a new topsail. It is a story-and-a-half cottage, +with a large expanse of roof, which, covered with porous, unpainted +shingles, seems to repel the sunshine that now strikes full upon it. +The upper and lower blinds on the main building, as well as those on +the extensions, are tightly closed. The sun appears to beat in vain at +the casements of this silent house, which has a curiously sullen and +defiant air, as if it had desperately and successfully barricaded +itself against the approach of morning; yet if one were standing in +the room that leads from the bedchamber on the ground floor--the room +with the latticed window--one would see a ray of light thrust through +a chink of the shutters, and pointing like a human finger at an object +which lies by the hearth. + +This finger, gleaming, motionless, and awful in its precision, points +to the body of old Mr. Lemuel Shackford, who lies there dead in his +night-dress, with a gash across his forehead. + +In the darkness of that summer night a deed darker than the night +itself had been done in Stillwater. + + + + +II + +THE FIGHT AT SLATTER'S HILL[58] + + +The memory of man, even that of the oldest inhabitant runneth not back +to the time when there did not exist a feud between the North End and +the South End boys of Rivermouth. + +[Footnote 58: From Chapter XIII of "The Story of a Bad Boy." +Copyright, 1869, 1877, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Published by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +The origin of the feud is involved in mystery; it is impossible to say +which party was the first aggressor in the far-off anterevolutionary ages; +but the fact remains that the youngsters of those antipodal sections +entertained a mortal hatred for each other, and that this hatred had been +handed down from generation to generation, like Miles Standish's +punch-bowl. + +I know not what laws, natural or unnatural, regulated the warmth of +the quarrel; but at some seasons it raged more violently than at +others. This winter both parties were unusually lively and +antagonistic. Great was the wrath of the South-Enders when they +discovered that the North-Enders had thrown up a fort on the crown of +Slatter's Hill. + +Slatter's Hill, or No-man's-land, as it was generally called, was a +rise of ground covering, perhaps, an acre and a quarter, situated on +an imaginary line marking the boundary between the two districts. An +immense stratum of granite, which here and there thrust out a wrinkled +boulder, prevented the site from being used for building purposes. The +street ran on either side of the hill, from one part of which a +quantity of rock had been removed to form the underpinning of the new +jail. This excavation made the approach from that point all but +impossible, especially when the ragged ledges were a-glitter with ice. +You see what a spot it was for a snow-fort. + +One evening twenty or thirty of the North-Enders quietly took +possession of Slatter's Hill, and threw up a strong line of +breastworks. The rear of the entrenchment, being protected by the +quarry, was left open. The walls were four feet high, and twenty-two +inches thick, strengthened at the angles by stakes driven firmly into +the ground. + +Fancy the rage of the South-Enders the next day, when they spied our +snowy citadel, with Jack Harris's red silk pocket-handkerchief +floating defiantly from the flagstaff. + +In less than an hour it was known all over town, in military circles +at least, that the "puddle-dockers" and the "river-rats" (these were +the derisive sub-titles bestowed on our South End foes) intended to +attack the fort that Saturday afternoon. + +At two o'clock all the fighting boys of the Temple Grammar School, and +as many recruits as we could muster, lay behind the walls of Fort +Slatter, with three hundred compact snowballs piled up in pyramids, +awaiting the approach of the enemy. The enemy was not slow in making +his approach--fifty strong, headed by one Mat Ames. Our forces were +under the command of General J. Harris. + +Before the action commenced a meeting was arranged between the rival +commanders, who drew up and signed certain rules and regulations +respecting the conduct of the battle. As it was impossible for the +North-Enders to occupy the fort permanently, it was stipulated that +the South-Enders should assault it only on Wednesday and Saturday +afternoons between the hours of two and six. For them to take +possession of the place at any other time was not to constitute a +capture, but, on the contrary, was to be considered a dishonorable and +cowardly act. + +The North-Enders, on the other hand, agreed to give up the fort +whenever ten of the storming party succeeded in obtaining at one time +a footing on the parapet, and were able to hold the same for the space +of two minutes. Both sides were to abstain from putting pebbles into +their snowballs, nor was it permissible to use frozen ammunition. A +snowball soaked in water and left out to cool was a projectile which +in previous years had been resorted to with disastrous results. + +These preliminaries settled, the commanders retired to their +respective corps. The interview had taken place on the hillside +between the opposing lines. + +General Harris divided his men into two bodies; the first comprized +the most skilful marksmen, or gunners; the second, the reserve force, +was composed of the strongest boys, whose duty it was to repel the +scaling parties, and to make occasional sallies for the purpose of +capturing prisoners, who were bound by the articles of treaty to +faithfully serve under our flag until they were exchanged at the close +of the day. + +The repellers were called light infantry; but when they carried on the +operations beyond the fort they became cavalry. It was also their +duty, when not otherwise engaged, to manufacture snowballs. The +General's staff consisted of five Templars (I among the number, with +the rank of major), who carried the General's orders and looked after +the wounded. + +General Mat Ames, a veteran commander, was no less wide-awake in the +disposition of his army. Five companies, each numbering but six men, +in order not to present too big a target to our sharpshooters, were +to charge the fort from different points, their advance being covered +by a heavy fire from the gunners posted in the rear. Each scaler was +provided with only two rounds of ammunition, which were not to be used +until he had mounted the breastwork and could deliver his shots on our +heads. + +The thrilling moment had now arrived. If I had been going into a real +engagement I could not have been more deeply imprest by the importance +of the occasion. + +The fort opened fire first--a single ball from the dextrous hand of +General Harris taking General Ames in the very pit of his stomach. A +cheer went up from Fort Slatter. In an instant the air was thick with +flying missiles, in the midst of which we dimly descried the storming +parties sweeping up the hill, shoulder to shoulder. The shouts of the +leaders, and the snowballs bursting like shells about our ears made it +very lively. + +Not more than a dozen of the enemy succeeded in reaching the crest of +the hill; five of these clambered upon the icy walls, where they were +instantly grabbed by the legs and jerked into the fort. The rest +retired confused and blinded by our well-directed fire. + +When General Harris (with his right eye bunged up) said, "Soldiers, I +am proud of you!" my heart swelled in my bosom. + +The victory, however, had not been without its price. Six +North-Enders, having rushed out to harass the discomfited enemy, were +gallantly cut off by General Ames and captured. Among these were +Lieutenant P. Whitcomb (who had no business to join in the charge, +being weak in the knees) and Captain Fred Langdon, of General Harris's +staff. Whitcomb was one of the most notable shots on our side, tho he +was not much to boast of in a rough-and-tumble fight, owing to the +weakness before mentioned. General Ames put him among the gunners, and +we were quickly made aware of the loss we had sustained by receiving a +frequent artful ball which seemed to light with unerring instinct on +any nose that was the least bit exposed. I have known one of Pepper's +snowballs, fired point-blank, to turn a corner and hit a boy who +considered himself absolutely safe. + +But we had no time for vain regrets. The battle raged. Already there +were two bad cases of black eye, and one of nose-bleed, in the +hospital. + +It was glorious excitement, those pell-mell onslaughts and +hand-to-hand struggles. Twice we were within an ace of being driven +from our stronghold, when General Harris and his staff leapt +recklessly upon the ramparts and hurled the besiegers heels over head +down hill. + +At sunset the garrison of Fort Slatter was still unconquered, and the +South-Enders, in a solid phalanx, marched off whistling "Yankee +Doodle," while we cheered and jeered them until they were out of +hearing. + + + + +III + +ON RETURNING FROM EUROPE[59] + + +This page will be wafted possibly through a snow-storm to the reader's +hand; but it is written while a few red leaves are still clinging to +the maple bough, and the last steamer of the year from across the +ocean has not yet discharged on our shores the final cargo of +returning summer tourists. How glad they will be, like those who came +over in previous ships, to sight that fantomish, white strip of Yankee +land called Sandy Hook! It is thinking of them that I write. + +[Footnote 59: From Chapter IX of "From Ponkapog to Pesth." Copyright, +1883, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Published by Houghton, Mifflin +Company.] + +Some one--that anonymous person who is always saying the wisest and +most delightful things just as you are on the point of saying them +yourself--has remarked that one of the greatest pleasures of foreign +travel is to get home again. But no one--that irresponsible person +forever to blame in railway accidents, but whom, on the whole, I +vastly prefer to his garrulous relative quoted above--no one, I +repeat, has pointed out the composite nature of this pleasure, or +named the ingredient in it which gives the chief charm to this getting +back. It is pleasant to feel the pressure of friendly hands once more; +it is pleasant to pick up the threads of occupation which you dropt +abruptly, or perhaps neatly knotted together and carefully laid away, +just before you stept on board the steamer; it is very pleasant, when +the summer experience has been softened and sublimated by time, to sit +of a winter night by the cheery wood fire, or even at the register, +since one must make one's self comfortable in so humiliating a +fashion, and let your fancy wander back in the old footprints; to form +your thoughts into happy summer pilgrims, and dispatch them to Arles +or Nuremberg, or up the vine-clad heights of Monte Cassino, or embark +them at Vienna for a cruise down the swift Danube to Budapest. But in +none of these things lies the subtle charm I wish to indicate. It lies +in the refreshing, short-lived pleasure of being able to look at your +own land with the eyes of an alien; to see novelty blossoming on the +most commonplace and familiar stems; to have the old manner and the +threadbare old custom to present themselves to you as absolutely +new--or if not new, at least strange. + +After you have escaped from the claws of the custom-house +officers--who are not nearly as affable birds as you once thought +them--and are rattling in an oddly familiar hack through well-known +but half-unrecognizable streets, you are struck by something comical +in the names on the shop signs--are American names comical, as +Englishmen seem to think?--by the strange fashion of the iron +lamp-post at the corner, by peculiarities in the architecture, which +you ought to have noticed, but never did notice until now. The candid +incivility of the coachman, who does not touch his hat to you, but +swears at you, has the vague charm of reminiscence. You regard him as +the guests regarded the poor relation at table in Lamb's essay; you +have an impression that you have seen him somewhere before. The truth +is, for the first time in your existence, you have a full, +unprejudiced look at the shell of the civilization from which you +emerged when you went abroad. Is it a pretty shell? Is it a +satisfactory shell? Not entirely. It has strange excrescences and +blotches on it. But it is a shell worth examining; it is the best you +can ever have; and it is expedient to study it very carefully the two +or three weeks immediately following your return to it, for your +privilege of doing so is of the briefest tenure. Some precious things +you do not lose, but your newly acquired vision fails you shortly. +Suddenly, while you are comparing, valuing, and criticizing, the old +scales fall over your eyes, you insensibly slip back into the +well-worn grooves, and behold all outward and most inward things in +nearly the same light as your untraveled neighbor, who has never known + + "The glory that was Greece + And the grandeur that was Rome." + +You will have to go abroad again to renew those magical spectacles +which enabled you for a few weeks to see your native land. + + + + +WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + + Born in Ohio in 1837; consul to Venice in 1861-65; editor of + _The Atlantic Monthly_ in 1871-81; associate editor of + _Harper's Magazine_ since 1886; among his many works, + "Venetian Life" published in 1866, "Italian Journeys" in + 1869, "Poems" in 1867, "Their Wedding Journey" in 1872, "A + Chance Acquaintance" in 1873, "The Lady of the Aroostook" in + 1875, "The Undiscovered Country" in 1880, "A Modern + Instance" in 1882, "Silas Lapham" in 1885, "Annie Kilburn" + in 1888. + + + + +TO ALBANY BY THE NIGHT BOAT[60] + + +There is little proportion about either pain or pleasure: a headache +darkens the universe while it lasts, a cup of tea really lightens the +spirit bereft of all reasonable consolation. Therefore I do not think +it trivial or untrue to say that there is for the moment nothing more +satisfactory in life than to have bought your ticket on the night boat +up the Hudson and secured your stateroom key an hour or two before +departure, and some time even before the pressure at the clerk's +office has begun. In the transaction with this castellated baron, you +have, of course, been treated with haughtiness, but not with ferocity, +and your self-respect swells with a sense of having escaped positive +insult; your key clicks cheerfully in your pocket against its +gutta-percha number, and you walk up and down the gorgeously +carpeted, single-columned, two-story cabin, amid a multitude of plush +sofas and chairs, a glitter of glass, and a tinkle of prismatic +chandeliers overhead, unawed even by the aristocratic gloom of the +yellow waiters. Your own stateroom, as you enter it from time to time, +is an ever new surprize of splendors, a magnificent effect of +amplitude, of mahogany bedstead, of lace curtains, and of marble topt +washstand. In the mere wantonness of an unalloyed prosperity you say +to the saffron nobleman nearest your door, "Bring me a pitcher of +ice-water, quick, please!" and you do not find the half-hour that he +is gone very long. + +[Footnote 60: From Chapter III of "Their Wedding Journey." Copyright, +1871, 1888, Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +If the ordinary wayfarer experiences so much pleasure from these +things, then imagine the infinite comfort of our wedding journeyers, +transported from Broadway on that pitiless afternoon to the shelter +and the quiet of that absurdly palatial steamboat. It was not yet +crowded, and by the river-side there was almost a freshness in the +air. They disposed of their troubling bags and packages; they +complimented the ridiculous princeliness of their stateroom, and then +they betook themselves to the sheltered space aft of the saloon, where +they sat down for the tranquiller observance of the wharf and whatever +should come to be seen by them. Like all people who have just escaped +with their lives from some menacing calamity, they were very +philosophical in spirit; and having got aboard of their own motion, +and being neither of them apparently the worse for the ordeal they had +passed through, were of a light, conversational temper. + +"What an amusingly superb affair!" Basil cried as they glanced through +an open window down the long vista of the saloon. "Good heavens! +Isabel, does it take all this to get us plain republicans to Albany in +comfort and safety, or are we really a nation of princes in disguise? +Well, I shall never be satisfied with less hereafter," he added. "I am +spoiled for ordinary paint and upholstery from this hour; I am a +ruinous spendthrift, and a humble three-story swell-front up at the +South End is no longer the place for me. Dearest, + + 'Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,' + +never to leave this Aladdin's-palace-like steamboat, but spend our +lives in perpetual trips up and down the Hudson." + +To which not very costly banter Isabel responded in kind, and rapidly +sketched the life they could lead aboard. Since they could not help +it, they mocked the public provision which, leaving no interval +between disgraceful squalor and ludicrous splendor, accommodates our +democratic menage to the taste of the richest and most extravagant +plebeian amongst us. He, unhappily, minds danger and oppression as +little as he minds money, so long as he has a spectacle and a +sensation, and it is this ruthless imbecile who will have lace +curtains to the steamboat berth into which he gets with his pantaloons +on, and out of which he may be blown by an exploding boiler at any +moment; it is he who will have for supper that overgrown and shapeless +dinner in the lower saloon, and will not let any one else buy tea or +toast for a less sum than he pays for his surfeit; it is he who +perpetuates the insolence of the clerk and the reluctance of the +waiters; it is he, in fact, who now comes out of the saloon, with his +womenkind, and takes chairs under the awning where Basil and Isabel +sit. Personally, he is not so bad; he is good-looking, like all of us; +he is better drest than most of us; he behaves himself quietly, if not +easily; and no lord so loathes a scene. Next year he is going to +Europe, where he will not show to so much advantage as here; but for +the present it would be hard to say in what way he is vulgar, and +perhaps vulgarity is not so common a thing after all. + + + + +JOHN HAY + + Born in Indiana in 1838, died in 1905; graduated from Brown + University in 1858; admitted to the bar in Illinois; one of + the private secretaries of President Lincoln; secretary of + Legation in Paris, Madrid and Vienna; Assistant Secretary of + State in 1879-81; president of the International Sanitary + Commission in 1891; ambassador to England in 1897-98; + Secretary of State in 1898; author of "Castilian Days," + published in 1871, "Pike County Ballads" in 1871, "Abraham + Lincoln: a History," in collaboration with John G. Nicolay + in 1890. + + + + +LINCOLN'S EARLY FAME[61] + + +His death seemed to have marked a step in the education of the people +everywhere. It requires years, perhaps centuries, to build the +structure of a reputation which rests upon the opinion of those +distinguished for learning or intelligence; the progress of opinion +from the few to the many is slow and painful. But in the case of +Lincoln the many imposed their opinion all at once; he was canonized, +as he lay on his bier, by the irresistible decree of countless +millions. The greater part of the aristocracy of England thought +little of him; but the burst of grief from the English people silenced +in an instant every discordant voice. It would have been as imprudent +to speak slightingly of him in London as it was in New York. +Especially among the Dissenters was honor and reverence shown to his +name. The humbler people instinctively felt that their order had lost +its wisest champion. + +[Footnote 61: From Volume X, Chapter XVIII, of "Abraham Lincoln: a +History." Copyright, 1886, 1890, by John G. Nicolay and John Hay. +Published by the Century Co.] + +Not only among those of Saxon blood was this outburst of emotion seen. +In France a national manifestation took place, which the government +disliked but did not think it wise to suppress. The students of Paris +marched in a body to the American Legation to express their sympathy. +A two-cent subscription was started to strike a massive gold medal; +the money was soon raised, but the committee was forced to have the +work done in Switzerland. A committee of French liberals brought the +medal to the American minister, to be sent to Mrs. Lincoln. "Tell +her," said Eugène Pelletan, "the heart of France is in that little +box." The inscription had a double sense; while honoring the dead +republican, it struck at the Empire: "Lincoln--the Honest Man; +abolished Slavery, reestablished the Union; Saved the Republic, +without veiling the Statue of Liberty." + +Everywhere on the Continent the same swift apotheosis of the people's +hero was seen. An Austrian deputy said to the writer, "Among my people +his memory has already assumed superhuman proportions; he has become a +myth, a type of ideal democracy." Almost before the earth closed over +him he began to be the subject of fable. The Freemasons of Europe +generally regard him as one of them--his portrait in masonic garb is +often displayed; yet he was not one of that brotherhood. The +spiritualists claim him as their most illustrious adept, but he was +not a spiritualist; and there is hardly a sect in the Western world, +from the Calvinist to the atheist, but affects to believe he was of +their opinion. + +A collection of the expressions of sympathy and condolence which came +to Washington from foreign governments, associations, and public +bodies of all sorts, was made by the State Department, and afterward +published by order of Congress. It forms a large quarto of a thousand +pages, and embraces the utterances of grief and regret from every +country under the sun, in almost every language spoken by man. + +But admired and venerated as he was in Europe, he was best understood +and appreciated at home. It is not to be denied that in his case, as +in that of all heroic personages who occupy a great place in history, +a certain element of legend mingles with his righteous fame. He was a +man, in fact, especially liable to legend.... + +Because Lincoln kept himself in such constant sympathy with the common +people, whom he respected too highly to flatter or mislead, he was +rewarded by a reverence and a love hardly ever given to a human being. +Among the humble working people of the South whom he had made free +this veneration and affection easily passed into the supernatural. At +a religious meeting among the negroes of the Sea Islands a young man +exprest the wish that he might see Lincoln. A gray-headed negro +rebuked the rash aspiration: "No man see Linkum. Linkum walk as Jesus +walk; no man see Linkum."... + +The quick instinct by which the world recognized him even at the +moment of his death as one of its greatest men, was not deceived. It +has been confirmed by the sober thought of a quarter of a century. +The writers of each nation compare him with their first popular hero. +The French find points of resemblance in him to Henry IV; the Dutch +liken him to William of Orange: the cruel stroke of murder and treason +by which all three perished in the height of their power naturally +suggests the comparison, which is strangely justified in both cases, +tho the two princes were so widely different in character. Lincoln had +the wit, the bonhomie, the keen practical insight into affairs, of the +Béarnais; and the tyrannous moral sense, the wide comprehension, the +heroic patience of the Dutch patriot, whose motto might have served +equally well for the American President--_"Sævis tranquillus in +undis."_ European historians speak of him in words reserved for the +most illustrious names. + +In this country, where millions still live who were his +contemporaries, and thousands who knew him personally; where the +envies and jealousies which dog the footsteps of success still linger +in the hearts of a few; where journals still exist that loaded his +name for four years with daily calumny, and writers of memoirs vainly +try to make themselves important by belittling him--his fame has +become as universal as the air, as deeply rooted as the hills. The +faint discords are not heard in the wide chorus that hails him second +to none and equaled by Washington alone. The eulogies of him form a +special literature. Preachers, poets, soldiers, and statesmen employ +the same phrases of unconditional love and reverence. Men speaking +with the authority of fame use unqualified superlatives.... + +It is not difficult to perceive the basis of this sudden and +world-wide fame, nor rash to predict its indefinite duration. There +are two classes of men whose names are more enduring than any +monument: the great writers, and the men of great achievement--the +founders of states, the conquerors. Lincoln has the singular fortune +to belong to both these categories; upon these broad and stable +foundations his renown is securely built. Nothing would have more +amazed him while he lived than to hear himself called a man of +letters; but this age has produced few greater writers. We are only +recording here the judgment of his peers. Emerson ranks him with Æsop +and Pilpay, in his lighter moods.... + +The more his writings are studied in connection with the important +transactions of his age, the higher will his reputation stand in the +opinion of the lettered class. But the men of study and research are +never numerous; and it is principally as a man of action that the +world at large will regard him. It is the story of his objective life +that will forever touch and hold the heart of mankind. His birthright +was privation and ignorance--not peculiar to his family, but the +universal environment of his place and time; he burst through those +enchaining conditions by the force of native genius and will: vice had +no temptation for him; his course was as naturally upward as the +skylark's; he won, against all conceivable obstacles, a high place in +an exacting profession and an honorable position in public and private +life; he became the foremost representative of a party founded on an +uprising of the national conscience against a secular wrong, and thus +came to the awful responsibilities of power in a time of terror and +gloom. He met them with incomparable strength and virtue. Caring for +nothing but the public good, free from envy or jealous fears, he +surrounded himself with the leading men of his party, his most +formidable rivals in public esteem, and through four years of +stupendous difficulties he was head and shoulders above them all in +the vital qualities of wisdom, foresight, knowledge of men, and +thorough comprehension of measures. Personally opposed, as the +radicals claim, by more than half of his own party in Congress, and +bitterly denounced and maligned by his open adversaries, he yet bore +himself with such extraordinary discretion and skill that he obtained +for the government all the legislation it required, and so imprest +himself upon the national mind that without personal effort or +solicitation he became the only possible candidate of his party for +reelection, and was chosen by an almost unanimous vote of the +electoral colleges.... + +To these qualifications of high literary excellence, and easy +practical mastery of affairs of transcendent importance we must add, +as an explanation of his immediate and world-wide fame, his possession +of certain moral qualities rarely combined in such high degree in one +individual. His heart was so tender that he would dismount from his +horse in a forest to replace in their nest young birds which had +fallen by the roadside; he could not sleep at night if he knew that a +soldier-boy was under sentence of death; he could not, even at the +bidding of duty or policy, refuse the prayer of age or helplessness in +distress. Children instinctively loved him; they never found his +rugged features ugly; his sympathies were quick and seemingly +unlimited. He was absolutely without prejudice of class or condition. +Frederick Douglass says he was the only man of distinction he ever met +who never reminded him, by word or manner, of his color; he was as +just and generous to the rich and well-born as to the poor and +humble--a thing rare among politicians. He was tolerant even of evil: +tho no man can ever have lived with a loftier scorn of meanness and +selfishness, he yet recognized their existence and counted with them. +He said one day, with a flash of cynical wisdom worthy of a La +Rochefoucauld, that honest statesmanship was the employment of +individual meanness for the public good. He never asked perfection of +any one; he did not even insist, for others, upon the high standards +he set up for himself. At a time before the word was invented he was +the first of opportunists. With the fire of a reformer and a martyr in +his heart, he yet proceeded by the ways of cautious and practical +statecraft. He always worked with things as they were, while never +relinquishing the desire and effort to make them better. To a hope +which saw the delectable mountains of absolute justice and peace in +the future, to a faith that God in his own time would give to all men +the things convenient to them, he added a charity which embraced in +its deep bosom all the good and the bad, all the virtues and the +infirmities of men, and a patience like that of nature, which in its +vast and fruitful activity knows neither haste nor rest. + +A character like this is among the precious heirlooms of the +republic; and by a special good fortune every part of the country has +an equal claim and pride in it. Lincoln's blood came from the veins of +New England emigrants, of Middle State Quakers, of Virginia planters, +of Kentucky pioneers; he himself was one of the men who grew up with +the earliest growth of the great West. Every jewel of his mind or his +conduct sheds radiance on each portion of the nation. The marvelous +symmetry and balance of his intellect and character may have owed +something to this varied environment of his race, and they may fitly +typify the variety and solidity of the republic. It may not be +unreasonable to hope that his name and his renown may be forever a +bond of union to the country which he loved with an affection so +impartial, and served, in life and in death, with such entire +devotion. + + + + +HENRY ADAMS + + Born in Boston in 1838; graduated from Harvard in 1858, + private secretary to his father, Charles Francis Adams, + American Minister to England in 1861-68; a professor at + Harvard in 1870-77; editor of the _North American Review_ in + 1870-76; author of "Essays in Anglo-Saxon Law," "Life of + Albert Gallatin," and a "History of the United States" in + nine volumes. + + + + +JEFFERSON'S RETIREMENT[62] + + +The repeal of the embargo, which received the President's signature +March 1, closed the long reign of President Jefferson; and with but +one exception the remark of John Randolph was destined to remain true, +that "never has there been any administration which went out of office +and left the nation in a state so deplorable and calamitous." That the +blame for this failure rested wholly upon Jefferson might be doubted; +but no one felt more keenly than he the disappointment under which his +old hopes and ambitions were crusht. + +[Footnote 62: From the final chapter of the "History of the United +States in the Administration of Thomas Jefferson." Copyright, 1889, by +Charles Scribners' Sons.] + +Loss of popularity was his bitterest trial. He who longed like a +sensitive child for sympathy and love left office as strongly and +almost as generally disliked as the least popular president who +preceded or followed him. He had undertaken to create a government +which should interfere in no way with private action, and he had +created one which interfered directly in the concerns of every private +citizen in the land. He had come into power as the champion of state +rights, and had driven states to the verge of armed resistance. He had +begun by claiming credit for stern economy, and ended by exceeding the +expenditure of his predecessors. He had invented a policy of peace, +and his invention resulted in the necessity of fighting at once the +two greatest powers in the world.... + +In truth, the disaster was appalling; and Jefferson described it in +moderate terms by admitting that the policy of peaceable coercion +brought upon him mortification such as no other president ever +suffered. So complete was his overthrow that his popular influence +declined even in the South. Twenty years elapsed before his political +authority recovered power over the Northern people; for not until the +embargo and its memories faded from men's minds did the mighty shadow +of Jefferson's Revolutionary name efface the ruin of his presidency. +Yet he clung with more and more tenacity to the faith that his theory +of peaceable coercion was sound; and when within a few months of his +death he alluded for the last time to the embargo, he spoke of it as +"a measure which, persevered in a little longer, we had subsequent and +satisfactory assurance would have effected its object completely." + +A discomfiture so conspicuous could not fail to bring in its train a +swarm of petty humiliations which for the moment were more painful +than the great misfortune. Jefferson had hoped to make his country +forever pure and free; to abolish war with its train of debt, +extravagance, corruption and tyranny; to build up a government devoted +only to useful and moral objects; to bring upon earth a new era of +peace and good-will among men. Throughout the twistings and windings +of his course as president he clung to this main idea; or if he seemed +for a moment to forget it, he never failed to return and to persist +with almost heroic obstinacy in enforcing its lessons. By repealing +the embargo, Congress avowedly and even maliciously rejected and +trampled upon the only part of Jefferson's statesmanship which claimed +originality, or which in his own opinion entitled him to rank as +philosophic legislator. The mortification he felt was natural and +extreme, but such as every great statesman might expect, and such as +most of them experienced. The supreme bitterness of the moment lay +rather in the sudden loss of respect and consideration which at all +times marked the decline of power, but became most painful when the +surrender of office followed a political defeat at the hands of +supposed friends.... + +In his style of life as President, Jefferson had indulged in such easy +and liberal expenses as suited the place he held. Far from showing +extravagance, the White House and its surroundings had in his time the +outward look of a Virginia plantation. The President was required to +pay the expenses of the house and grounds. In consequence, the grounds +were uncared for, the palings broken or wanting, the paths undefined, +and the place a waste, running imperceptibly into the barren fields +about it. Within, the house was as simple as without, after the usual +style of Virginia houses, where the scale was often extravagant but +the details plain. Only in his table did Jefferson spend an unusual +amount of money with excellent results for his political influence, +for no president ever understood better than Jefferson the art of +entertaining; yet his table cost him no excessive sums. For the best +champagne he paid less than a dollar a bottle; for the best Bordeaux +he paid a dollar; and the Madeira which was drunk in pipes at the +White House cost between fifty and sixty cents a bottle. His French +cook and cook's assistant were paid about four hundred dollars a year. +On such a scale his salary of twenty-five thousand dollars was +equivalent to fully sixty thousand dollars of modern money; and his +accounts showed that for the first and probably the most expensive +year of his presidency he spent only $16,800 which could properly be +charged to his public and official character. A mode of life so simple +and so easily controlled should in a village like Washington have left +no opening for arrears of debt; but when Jefferson, about to quit the +White House forever, attempted to settle his accounts, he discovered +that he had exceeded his income. Not his expenses as President, but +his expenses as planter dragged him down. At first he thought that his +debts would reach seven or eight thousand dollars, which must be +discharged from a private estate hardly exceeding two hundred thousand +dollars in value at the best of times, and rendered almost worthless +by neglect and by the embargo. The sudden demand for this sum of +money, coming at the moment of his political mortifications, wrung +from him cries of genuine distress such as no public disaster had +called out.... + +On horseback, over roads impassable to wheels, through snow and storm, +he hurried back to Monticello to recover in the quiet of home the +peace of mind he had lost in the disappointments of his statesmanship. +He arrived at Monticello March 15, and never again passed beyond the +bounds of a few adjacent counties. + + + + +BRET HARTE + + Born in 1839, died in 1902; removed to California in 1854, + where in 1868 he founded _The Overland Monthly_; professor + in the University of California in 1870; removed to New York + in 1871; consul at Crefeld, Germany, in 1878-80, and at + Glasgow in 1880-85; published "The Luck of Roaring Camp" in + 1868, "The Outcasts of Poker Flat" in 1869, "Poems" in 1871, + "Stories of the Sierras" in 1872, "Tales of the Argonauts" + in 1875, "Gabriel Conroy" in 1876, "Two Men of Sandy Bar" (a + play) in 1877, "A Phyllis of the Sierras" in 1888. + + + + +I + +PEGGY MOFFAT'S INHERITANCE[63] + + +The first intimation given of the eccentricity of the testator was, I +think, in the spring of 1854. He was at that time in possession of a +considerable property, heavily mortgaged to one friend, and a wife of +some attraction, on whose affections another friend held an +encumbering lien. One day it was found that he had secretly dug, or +caused to be dug, a deep trap before the front door of his dwelling, +into which a few friends in the course of the evening casually and +familiarly dropt. This circumstance, slight in itself, seemed to point +to the existence of a certain humor in the man, which might eventually +get into literature; altho his wife's lover--a man of quick +discernment, whose leg was broken by the fall--took other views. It +was some weeks later that while dining with certain other friends of +his wife, he excused himself from the table, to quietly reappear at +the front window with a three-quarter-inch hydraulic pipe, and a +stream of water projected at the assembled company. An attempt was +made to take public cognizance of this; but a majority of the citizens +of Red Dog who were not at dinner decided that a man had a right to +choose his own methods of diverting his company. Nevertheless, there +were some hints of his insanity: his wife recalled other acts clearly +attributable to dementia; the crippled lover argued from his own +experience that the integrity of her limbs could only be secured by +leaving her husband's house; and the mortgagee, fearing a further +damage to his property, foreclosed. But here the cause of all this +anxiety took matters into his own hands and disappeared. + +[Footnote 63: From "The Twins of Table Mountain." Copyright, 1879, by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +When we next heard from him, he had in some mysterious way been +relieved alike of his wife and property and was living alone at +Rockville, fifty miles away, and editing a newspaper. But that +originality he had displayed when dealing with the problems of his own +private life, when applied to politics in the columns of _The +Rockville Vanguard_ was singularly unsuccessful. An amusing +exaggeration, purporting to be an exact account of the manner in which +the opposing candidate had murdered his Chinese laundryman, was, I +regret to say, answered only by assault and battery. A gratuitous and +purely imaginative description of a great religious revival in +Calaveras, in which the sheriff of the county--a notoriously profane +skeptic--was alleged to have been the chief exhorter, resulted only +in the withdrawal of the county advertising from the paper. + +In the midst of this practical confusion he suddenly died. It was then +discovered, as a crowning proof of his absurdity, that he had left a +will, bequeathing his entire effects to a freckle-faced maid-servant +at the Rockville Hotel. But that absurdity became serious when it was +also discovered that among these effects were a thousand shares in the +Rising Sun Mining Company, which a day or two after his demise, and +while people were still laughing at his grotesque benefaction, +suddenly sprang into opulence and celebrity. Three millions of dollars +was roughly estimated as the value of the estate thus wantonly +sacrificed. For it is only fair to state, as a just tribute to the +enterprise and energy of that young and thriving settlement, that +there was not probably a single citizen who did not feel himself +better able to control the deceased humorist's property. Some had +exprest a doubt of their ability to support a family; others had felt +perhaps too keenly the deep responsibility resting upon them when +chosen from the panel as jurors, and had evaded their public duties; a +few had declined office and a low salary; but no one shrank from the +possibility of having been called upon to assume the functions of +Peggy Moffat the heiress. + +The will was contested--first by the widow, who it now appeared had +never been legally divorced from the deceased; next by four of his +cousins, who awoke, only too late, to a consciousness of his moral and +pecuniary worth. But the humble legatee--a singularly plain, +unpretending, uneducated Western girl--exhibited a dogged pertinacity +in claiming her rights. She rejected all compromises. A rough sense of +justice in the community, while doubting her ability to take care of +the whole fortune, suggested that she ought to be content with three +hundred thousand dollars. "She's bound to throw even that away on some +derned skunk of a man, natoorally; but three millions is too much to +give a chap for makin' her onhappy. It's offerin' a temptation to +cussedness." + +The only opposing voice to this counsel came from the sardonic lips of +Mr. Jack Hamlin. "Suppose," suggested that gentleman, turning abruptly +on the speaker, "suppose, when you won twenty thousand dollars of me +last Friday night--suppose that instead of handing you over the money +as I did--suppose I'd got up on my hind legs and said, 'Look yer, Bill +Wethersbee, you're a d----d fool. If I give ye that twenty thousand +you'll throw it away in the first skin game in 'Frisco, and hand it +over to the first short card-sharp you'll meet. There's a +thousand--enough for you to fling away--take it and get!' Suppose what +I'd said to you was the frozen truth, and you knowed it, would that +have been the square thing to play on you?" + +But here Wethersbee quickly pointed out the inefficiency of the +comparison by stating that he had won the money fairly with a stake. + +"And how do you know," demanded Hamlin savagely, bending his black +eyes on the astonished casuist, "how do you know that the gal hezn't +put down a stake?" + +The man stammered an unintelligible reply. + +The gambler laid his white hand on Wethersbee's shoulder. + +"Look yer, old man," he said, "every gal stakes her whole pile--you +can bet your life on that--whatever's her little game. If she took to +keerds instead of her feelings, if she'd put up chips instead o' body +and soul, she'd burst every bank 'twixt this and 'Frisco! You hear +me?" + +Somewhat of this idea was conveyed, I fear not quite as sentimentally, +to Peggy Moffat herself. The best legal wisdom of San Francisco, +retained by the widow and relatives, took occasion, in a private +interview with Peggy, to point out that she stood in the +quasi-criminal attitude of having unlawfully practised upon the +affections of an insane elderly gentleman, with a view of getting +possession of his property; and suggested to her that no vestige of +her moral character would remain after the trial, if she persisted in +forcing her claims to that issue. It is said that Peggy, on hearing +this, stopt washing the plate she had in her hands, and twisting the +towel around her fingers, fixt her small pale blue eyes on the lawyer. + +"And ez that the kind o' chirpin' these critters keep up?" + +"I regret to say, my dear young lady," responded the lawyer, "that the +world is censorious. I must add," he continued, with engaging +frankness, "that we professional lawyers are apt to study the opinion +of the world, and that such will be the theory of--our side." + +"Then," said Peggy stoutly, "ez I allow I've got to go into court to +defend my character, I might as well pack in them three millions +too." + +There is hearsay evidence that Peg added to this speech a wish and +desire to "bust the crust" of her traducers, and remarking that "that +was the kind of hair-pin" she was, closed the conversation with an +unfortunate accident to the plate, that left a severe contusion on the +legal brow of her companion. But this story, popular in the bar-rooms +and gulches, lacked confirmation in higher circles.... + +The case came to trial. Everybody remembers it--how for six weeks it +was the daily food of Calaveras County; how for six weeks the +intellectual and moral and spiritual competency of Mr. James Byways to +dispose of his property was discust with learned and formal obscurity +in the court, and with unlettered and independent prejudice by +camp-fires and in bar-rooms. At the end of that time, when it was +logically established that at least nine-tenths of the population of +Calaveras were harmless lunatics, and everybody else's reason seemed +to totter on its throne, an exhausted jury succumbed one day to the +presence of Peg in the courtroom. It was not a prepossessing presence +at any time; but the excitement, and an injudicious attempt to +ornament herself, brought her defects into a glaring relief that was +almost unreal. Every freckle on her face stood out and asserted itself +singly; her pale blue eyes, that gave no indication of her force of +character, were weak and wandering, or stared blankly at the judge; +her over-sized head, broad at the base, terminating in the scantiest +possible light colored braid in the middle of her narrow shoulders, +was as hard and uninteresting as the wooden spheres that topt the +railing against which she sat. The jury, who for six weeks had had +her described to them by the plaintiffs as an arch, wily enchantress, +who had sapped the failing reason of Jim Byways, revolted to a man. +There was something so appallingly gratuitous in her plainness that it +was felt that three millions was scarcely a compensation for it. "Ef +that money was give to her, she earned it sure, boys; it wasn't no +softness of the old man," said the foreman. When the jury retired, it +was felt that she had cleared her character; when they reentered the +room with their verdict, it was known that she had been awarded three +millions damages for its defamation. + +She got the money. But those who had confidently expected to see her +squander it were disappointed: on the contrary, it was presently +whispered that she was exceeding penurious. That admirable woman Mrs. +Stiver of Red Dog, who accompanied her to San Francisco to assist her +in making purchases, was loud in her indignation. "She cares more for +two bits than I do for five dollars. She wouldn't buy anything at the +'City of Paris' because it was 'too expensive,' and at last rigged +herself out a perfect guy at some cheap slop-shops in Market Street. +And after all the care Jane and me took of her, giving up our time and +experience to her, she never so much as made Jane a single present." +Popular opinion, which regarded Mrs. Stiver's attention as purely +speculative, was not shocked at this unprofitable denouement; but when +Peg refused to give anything to clear the mortgage off the new +Presbyterian church, and even declined to take shares in the Union +Ditch, considered by many as an equally sacred and safe investment, +she began to lose favor. Nevertheless, she seemed to be as regardless +of public opinion as she had been before the trial; took a small +house, in which she lived with an old woman who had once been a fellow +servant, on apparently terms of perfect equality, and looked after her +money. + +I wish I could say that she did this discreetly; but the fact is, she +blundered. The same dogged persistency she had displayed in claiming +her rights was visible in her unsuccessful ventures. She sunk two +hundred thousand dollars in a worn-out shaft originally projected by +the deceased testator; she prolonged the miserable existence of _The +Rockville Vanguard_ long after it had ceased to interest even its +enemies; she kept the doors of the Rockville Hotel open when its +custom had departed; she lost the cooperation and favor of a fellow +capitalist through a trifling misunderstanding in which she was +derelict and impenitent; she had three lawsuits on her hands that +could have been settled for a trifle. I note these defects to show +that she was by no means a heroine. I quote her affair with Jack +Folinsbee to show she was scarcely the average woman.... + +Nothing was known definitely until Jack a month later turned up in +Sacramento, with a billiard cue in his hand, and a heart overcharged +with indignant emotion. + +"I don't mind saying to you gentlemen in confidence," said Jack to a +circle of sympathizing players, "I don't mind telling you regarding +this thing, that I was as soft on that freckle-faced, red-eyed, +tallow-haired gal as if she'd been--a--a--an actress. And I don't mind +saying, gentlemen, that as far as I understand women, she was just as +soft on me. You kin laugh; but it's so. One day I took her out +buggy-riding--in style too--and out on the road I offered to do the +square thing, just as if she'd been a lady--offered to marry her then +and there. And what did she do?" said Jack with a hysterical laugh. +"Why, blank it all! offered me twenty-five dollars a week +allowance--pay to be stopt when I wasn't at home!" The roar of +laughter that greeted this frank confession was broken by a quiet +voice asking, "And what did you say?" "Say?" screamed Jack, "I just +told her to go to ---- with her money."... + +During the following year she made several more foolish ventures and +lost heavily. In fact, a feverish desire to increase her store at +almost any risk seemed to possess her. At last it was announced that +she intended to reopen the infelix Rockville Hotel, and keep it +herself. Wild as this scheme appeared in theory, when put into +practical operation there seemed to be some chance of success. Much +doubtless was owing to her practical knowledge of hotel-keeping, but +more to her rigid economy and untiring industry. The mistress of +millions, she cooked, washed, waited on table, made the beds, and +labored like a common menial. Visitors were attracted by this novel +spectacle. The income of the house increased as their respect for the +hostess lessened. No anecdote of her avarice was too extravagant for +current belief. It was even alleged that she had been known to carry +the luggage of guests to their rooms, that she might anticipate the +usual porter's gratuity. She denied herself the ordinary necessaries +of life. She was poorly clad, she was ill-fed--but the hotel was +making money. + +It was the particular fortune of Mr. Jack Hamlin to be able to set the +world right on this and other questions regarding her. + +A stormy December evening had set in when he chanced to be a guest of +the Rockville Hotel.... At midnight, when he was about to retire, he +was a little surprized however by a tap on his door, followed by the +presence of Mistress Peg Moffat, heiress, and landlady of Rockville +Hotel. + +Mr. Hamlin, despite his previous defense of Peg, had no liking for +her. His fastidious taste rejected her uncomeliness; his habits of +thought and life were all antagonistic to what he had heard of her +niggardliness and greed. As she stood there in a dirty calico wrapper, +still redolent with the day's _cuisine_, crimson with embarrassment +and the recent heat of the kitchen range, she certainly was not an +alluring apparition. Happily for the lateness of the hour, her +loneliness, and the infelix reputation of the man before her, she was +at least a safe one. And I fear the very consciousness of this +scarcely relieved her embarrassment.... + +"I wanted to ask ye a favor about Mr.--about--Jack Folinsbee," began +Peg hurriedly. "He's ailin' agin, and is mighty low. And he's losin' a +heap o' money here and thar, and mostly to you. You cleaned him out of +two thousand dollars last night--all he had." + +"Well?" said the gambler coldly. + +"Well, I thought as you woz a friend o' mine, I'd ask ye to let up a +little on him," said Peg with an affected laugh. "You kin do it. +Don't let him play with ye." + +"Mistress Margaret Moffat," said Jack with lazy deliberation, taking off +his watch and beginning to wind it up, "ef you're that much stuck after +Jack Folinsbee, you kin keep him off of me much easier than I kin. You're a +rich woman. Give him enough money to break my bank, or break himself for +good and all; but don't keep him foolin' round me in hopes to make a raise. +It don't pay, Mistress Moffat--it don't pay!"... + +"When Jim Byways left me this yer property," she began, looking +cautiously around, "he left it to me on conditions; not conditions ez +waz in his written will, but conditions ez waz spoken. A promise I +made him in this very room, Mr. Hamlin--this very room, and on that +very bed you're sittin' on, in which he died." + +Like most gamblers, Mr. Hamlin was superstitious. He rose hastily from +the bed, and took a chair beside the window. The wind shook it as if +the discontented spirit of Mr. Byways were without, reenforcing his +last injunction. + +"I don't know if you remember him," said Peg feverishly. "He was a man +ez hed suffered. All that he loved--wife, fammerly, friends--had gone +back on him. He tried to make light of it afore folks; but with me, +being a poor gal, he let himself out. I never told anybody this. I +don't know why he told me; I don't know," continued Peggy with a +sniffle, "why he wanted to make me unhappy too. But he made me promise +that if he left me his fortune, I'd never, never--so help me +God!--never share it with any man or woman that I loved. I didn't +think it would be hard to keep that promise then, Mr. Hamlin, for I +was very poor, and hedn't a friend nor a living bein' that was kind to +me but him." + +"But you've as good as broken your promise already," said Hamlin. +"You've given Jack money, as I know." + +"Only what I made myself. Listen to me, Mr. Hamlin. When Jack proposed +to me, I offered him about what I kalkilated I could earn myself. When +he went away, and was sick and in trouble, I came here and took this +hotel. I knew that by hard work I could make it pay. Don't laugh at +me, please. I did work hard, and did make it pay--without takin' one +cent of the fortin'. And all I made, workin' by night and day, I gave +to him; I did, Mr. Hamlin. I ain't so hard to him as you think, tho I +might be kinder, I know." + +Mr. Hamlin rose, deliberately resumed his coat, watch, hat, and +overcoat. When he was completely drest again, he turned to Peg. + +"Do you mean to say that you've been givin' all the money you made +here to this A1 first-class cherubim?" + +"Yes; but he didn't know where I got it. O Mr. Hamlin! he didn't know +that." + +"Do I understand you that he's been bucking agin faro with the money +that you raised on hash? and you makin' the hash?" + +"But he didn't know that. He wouldn't hev took it if I'd told him." + +"No, he'd hev died fust!" said Mr. Hamlin gravely. "Why, he's that +sensitive that it nearly kills him to take money even of me." + + + + +II + +JOHN CHINAMAN[64] + + +The expression of the Chinese face in the aggregate is neither +cheerful nor happy. In an acquaintance of half a dozen years, I can +only recall one or two exceptions to this rule. There is an abiding +consciousness of degradation--a secret pain or self-humiliation +visible in the lines of the mouth and eye. Whether it is only a +modification of Turkish gravity, or whether it is the dread Valley of +the Shadow of the Drug through which they are continually straying, I +can not say. They seldom smile, and their laughter is of such an +extraordinary and sardonic nature--so purely a mechanical spasm, quite +independent of any mirthful attribute--that to this day I am doubtful +whether I ever saw a Chinaman laugh. A theatrical representation by +natives, one might think, would have set my mind at ease on this +point; but it did not. Indeed, a new difficulty presented itself--the +impossibility of determining whether the performance was a tragedy or +farce. I thought I detected the low comedian in an active youth who +turned two somersaults, and knocked everybody down on entering the +stage. But, unfortunately, even this classic resemblance to the +legitimate farce of our civilization was deceptive. Another brocaded +actor, who represented the hero of the play, turned three +somersaults, and not only upset my theory and his fellow actors at the +same time, but apparently ran amuck behind the scenes for some time +afterward. I looked around at the glinting white teeth to observe the +effect of these two palpable hits. They were received with equal +acclamation, and apparently equal facial spasms. One or two beheadings +which enlivened the play produced the same sardonic effect, and left +upon my mind a painful anxiety to know what was the serious business +of life in China. It was noticeable, however, that my unrestrained +laughter had a discordant effect, and that triangular eyes sometimes +turned ominously toward the "Fanqui devil"; but as I retired +discreetly before the play was finished, there were no serious +results. I have only given the above as an instance of the +impossibility of deciding upon the outward and superficial expression +of Chinese mirth. Of its inner and deeper existence I have some +private doubts. An audience that will view with a serious aspect the +hero, after a frightful and agonizing death, get up and quietly walk +off the stage, can not be said to have remarkable perceptions of the +ludicrous. + +[Footnote 64: From "The Luck of Roaring Camp." Copyright, 1871, 1899, +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +I have often been struck with the delicate pliability of the Chinese +expression and taste that might suggest a broader and deeper criticism +than is becoming these pages. A Chinaman will adopt the American +costume, and wear it with a taste of color and detail that will +surpass those "native, and to the manner born." To look at a Chinese +slipper, one might imagine it impossible to shape the original foot to +anything less cumbrous and roomy, yet a neater-fitting boot than that +belonging to the Americanized Chinaman is rarely seen on this side of +the continent. When the loose sack or paletot takes the place of his +brocade blouse, it is worn with a refinement and grace that might +bring a jealous pang to the exquisite of our more refined +civilization. Pantaloons fall easily and naturally over legs that have +known unlimited freedom and bagginess, and even garrote collars meet +correctly around sun-tanned throats. The new expression seldom +overflows in gaudy cravats. I will back my Americanized Chinaman +against any neophyte of European birth in the choice of that article. +While in our own State, the greaser resists one by one the garments of +the Northern invader, and even wears the livery of his conqueror with +a wild and buttonless freedom, the Chinaman, abused and degraded as he +is, changes by correctly graded transition to the garments of +Christian civilization. There is but one article of European wear that +he avoids. These Bohemian eyes have never yet been pained by the +spectacle of a tall hat on the head of an intelligent Chinaman. + +My acquaintance with John has been made up of weekly interviews, +involving the adjustment of the washing accounts, so that I have not +been able to study his character from a social viewpoint or observe +him in the privacy of the domestic circle. I have gathered enough to +justify me in believing him to be generally honest, faithful, simple, +and painstaking. Of his simplicity let me record an instance where a +sad and civil young Chinaman brought me certain shirts with most of +the buttons missing and others hanging on delusively by a single +thread. In a moment of unguarded irony I informed him that unity would +at least have been preserved if the buttons were removed altogether. +He smiled sadly and went away. I thought I had hurt his feelings, +until the next week, when he brought me my shirts with a look of +intelligence, and the buttons carefully and totally erased. At another +time, to guard against his general disposition to carry off anything +as soiled clothes that he thought could hold water, I requested him to +always wait until he saw me. Coming home late one evening, I found the +household in great consternation over an immovable Celestial who had +remained seated on the front door-step during the day, sad and +submissive, firm but also patient, and only betraying any animation or +token of his mission when he saw me coming. This same Chinaman evinced +some evidences of regard for a little girl in the family, who in her +turn reposed such faith in his intellectual qualities as to present +him with a preternaturally uninteresting Sunday-school book, her own +property. This book John made a point of carrying ostentatiously with +him in his weekly visits. It appeared usually on the top of the clean +clothes, and was sometimes painfully clasped outside of the big bundle +of soiled linen. Whether John believed he unconsciously imbibed some +spiritual life through its pasteboard cover, as the Prince in the +"Arabian Nights" imbibed the medicine through the handle of the +mallet, or whether he wished to exhibit a due sense of gratitude, or +whether he hadn't any pockets, I have never been able to ascertain. In +his turn he would sometimes cut marvelous imitation roses from +carrots for his little friend. I am inclined to think that the few +roses strewn in John's path were such scentless imitations. The thorns +only were real. From the persecutions of the young and old of a +certain class his life was a torment. I don't know what was the exact +philosophy that Confucius taught, but it is to be hoped that poor John +in his persecution is still able to detect the conscious hate and fear +with which inferiority always regards the possibility of even-handed +justice, and which is the keynote to the vulgar clamor about servile +and degraded races. + + + + +III + +M'LISS GOES TO SCHOOL[65] + + +Just where the Sierra Nevada begins to subside in gentler undulations, +and the rivers grow less rapid and yellow, on the side of a great red +mountain, stands "Smith's Pocket." Seen from the red road at sunset, +in the red light and the red dust, its white houses look like the +outcroppings of quartz on the mountain-side. The red stage topped with +red-shirted passengers is lost to view half a dozen times in the +tortuous descent, turning up unexpectedly in out-of-the-way places, +and vanishing altogether within a hundred yards of the town. It is +probably owing to this sudden twist in the road that the advent of a +stranger at Smith's Pocket is usually attended with a peculiar +circumstance. Dismounting from the vehicle at the stage office, the +too confident traveler is apt to walk straight out of town under the +impression that it lies in quite another direction. It is related that +one of the tunnelmen, two miles from town, met one of these +self-reliant passengers with a carpet-bag, umbrella, _Harper's +Magazine_, and other evidences of "civilization and refinement," +plodding along over the road he had just ridden, vainly endeavoring to +find the settlement of Smith's Pocket. + +[Footnote 65: From M'Liss, one of the stories in "The Luck of Roaring +Camp" volume. Copyright, 1871, 1899. Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +An observant traveler might have found some compensation for his +disappointment in the weird aspect of that vicinity. There were huge +fissures on the hillside, and displacements of the red soil, +resembling more the chaos of some primary elemental upheaval than the +work of man; while, half-way down, a long flume straddled its narrow +body and disproportionate legs over the chasm, like an enormous fossil +of some forgotten antediluvian. At every step smaller ditches crossed +the road, hiding in their sallow depths unlovely streams that crept +away to a clandestine union with the great yellow torrent below, and +here and there were the ruins of some cabin with the chimney alone +left intact and the hearthstone open to the skies. + +The settlement of Smith's Pocket owed its origin to the finding of a +"pocket" on its site by a veritable Smith. Five thousand dollars were +taken out of it in one half-hour by Smith. Three thousand dollars were +expended by Smith and others in erecting a flume and in tunnelling. +And then Smith's Pocket was found to be only a pocket, and subject, +like other pockets, to depletion. Altho Smith pierced the bowels of +the great red mountain, that five thousand dollars was the first and +last return of his labor. The mountain grew reticent of its golden +secrets, and the flume steadily ebbed away the remainder of Smith's +fortune. Then Smith went into quartz-mining; then into quartz-milling; +then into hydraulics and ditching, and then by easy degrees into +saloon-keeping. Presently it was whispered that Smith was drinking a +great deal; then it was known that Smith was a habitual drunkard, and +then people began to think, as they are apt to, that he had never been +anything else. But the settlement of Smith's Pocket, like that of most +discoveries, was happily not dependent on the fortune of its pioneer, +and other parties projected tunnels and found pockets. So Smith's +pocket became a settlement with its two fancy stores, its two hotels, +its one express office, and its two first families. Occasionally its +one long straggling street was overawed by the assumption of the +latest San Francisco fashions, imported per express, exclusively to +the first families; making outraged Nature, in the ragged outline of +her furrowed surface, look still more homely, and putting personal +insult on that greater portion of the population to whom the Sabbath, +with a change of linen, brought merely the necessity of cleanliness, +without the luxury of adornment. Then there was a Methodist church, +and hard by a Monte bank, and a little beyond, on the mountain-side, a +graveyard; and then a little schoolhouse. + +"The Master," as he was known to his little flock, sat alone one night +in the schoolhouse, with some open copy-books before him, carefully +making those bold and full characters which are supposed to combine +the extremes of chirographical and moral excellence, and had got as +far as "Riches are deceitful," and was elaborating the noun with an +insincerity of flourish that was quite in the spirit of his text, when +he heard a gentle tapping. The woodpeckers had been busy about the +roof during the day, and the noise did not disturb his work. But the +opening of the door, and the tapping continuing from the inside, +caused him to look up. He was slightly startled by the figure of a +young girl, dirty and shabbily clad. Still her great black eyes, her +coarse, uncombed, lusterless black hair falling over her sun-burned +face, her red arms and feet streaked with the red soil, were all +familiar to him. It was Melissa Smith--Smith's motherless child. + +"What can she want here?" thought the master. Everybody knew "M'liss," +as she was called, throughout the length and height of Red Mountain. +Everybody knew her as an incorrigible girl. Her fierce, ungovernable +disposition, her mad freaks and lawless character were in their way as +proverbial as the story of her father's weaknesses, and as +philosophically accepted by the townsfolk. She wrangled with and +fought the schoolboys with keener invective and quite as powerful arm. +She followed the trails with a woodman's craft, and the master had met +her before, miles away, shoeless, stockingless, and bareheaded, on the +mountain road. The miners' camps along the stream supplied her with +subsistence during these voluntary pilgrimages, in freely offered +alms. Not but that a larger protection had been previously extended to +M'liss. The Rev. Joshua McSnagley, "stated" preacher, had placed her +in the hotel as servant, by way of preliminary refinement, and had +introduced her to his scholars at Sunday school. But she threw plates +occasionally at the landlord, and quickly retorted to the cheap +witticisms of the guests, and created in the Sabbath school a +sensation that was so inimical to the orthodox dulness and placidity +of that institution, that, with a decent regard for the starched +frocks and unblemished morals of the two pink-and-white-faced children +of the first families, the reverend gentleman had her ignominiously +expelled. Such were the antecedents, and such the character of M'liss, +as she stood before the master. It was shown in the ragged dress, the +unkempt hair, and bleeding feet, and asked his pity. It flashed from +her black, fearless eyes, and commanded his respect. + +"I come here to-night," she said rapidly and boldly, keeping her hard +glance on his, "because I knew you was alone. I wouldn't come here +when them gals was here. I hate 'em and they hates me. That's why. You +keep school, don't you? I want to be teached!" + +If to the shabbiness of her apparel and uncomeliness of her tangled +hair and dirty face she had added the humility of tears, the master +would have extended to her the usual moiety of pity, and nothing more. +But with the natural, tho illogical instincts of his species, her +boldness awakened in him something of that respect which all original +natures pay unconsciously to one another in any grade. And he gazed at +her the more fixedly as she went on still rapidly, her hand on that +door-latch and her eyes on his: + +"My name's M'liss--M'liss Smith! You can bet your life on that. My +father's Old Smith--Old Bummer Smith--that's what's the matter with +him. M'liss Smith--and I'm coming to school!" + +"Well?" said the master. + +Accustomed to be thwarted and opposed, often wantonly and cruelly, for +no other purpose than to excite the violent impulses of her nature, +the master's phlegm evidently took her by surprize. She stopt; she +began to twist a lock of her hair between her fingers; and the rigid +line of upper lip, drawn over the wicked little teeth, relaxed and +quivered slightly. Then her eyes dropt, and something like a blush +struggled up to her cheek, and tried to assert itself through the +splashes of redder soil, and the sunburn of years. Suddenly she threw +herself forward, calling on God to strike her dead, and fell quite +weak and helpless, with her face on the master's desk, crying and +sobbing as if her heart would break. + + + + +HENRY JAMES + + Born in 1843; son of the elder Henry James; educated in + Europe; studied law at Harvard; began to write for + periodicals in 1866; has lived mostly in England since 1869; + "A Passionate Pilgrim" published in 1875, "The American" in + 1877, "French Poets and Novelists" in 1878, "Daisy Miller" + in 1878, "Life of Hawthorne" in 1879, "Portrait of a Lady" + in 1881, "A Little Tour in France" in 1884, "The Bostonians" + in 1886, "What Maisie Knew" in 1897, "The Awkward Age" in + 1899, "The Sacred Fount" in 1901. + + + + +I + +AMONG THE MALVERN HILLS[66] + + +Between the fair boundaries of the counties of Hereford and Worcester +rise in a long undulation the sloping pastures of the Malvern Hills. +Consulting a big red book on the castles and manors of England, we +found Lockley Park to be seated near the base of this grassy range, +tho in which county I forget. In the pages of this genial volume +Lockley Park and its appurtenances made a very handsome figure. We +took up our abode at a certain little wayside inn, at which in the +days of leisure the coach must have stopt for lunch, and burnished +pewters of rustic ale been tenderly exalted to "outsides" athirst with +breezy progression. Here we stopt, for sheer admiration of its steep +thatched roof, its latticed windows, and its homely porch. We allowed +a couple of days to elapse in vague undirected strolls and sweet +sentimental observance of the land, before we prepared to execute the +especial purpose of our journey. This admirable region is a compendium +of the general physiognomy of England. The noble friendliness of the +scenery, its subtle old friendliness, the magical familiarity of +multitudinous details, appealed to us at every step and at every +glance. Deep in our souls a natural affection answered. The whole +land, in the full, warm rains of the last of April, had burst into +sudden perfect spring. The dark walls of the hedge-rows had turned +into blooming screens; the sodden verdure of lawn and meadow was +streaked with a ranker freshness. We went forth without loss of time +for a long walk on the hills. Reaching their summits, you find half +England unrolled at your feet. A dozen broad counties, within the vast +range of your vision, commingle their green exhalations. Closely +beneath us lay the dark, rich flats of hedgy Worcestershire and the +copse-checkered slopes of rolling Hereford, white with the blossom of +apples. At widely opposite points of the large expanse two great +cathedral towers rise sharply, taking the light, from the settled +shadow of the circling towns--the light, the ineffable English light! +"Out of England," cried Searle, "it's but a garish world!" + +[Footnote 66: From "A Passionate Pilgrim and Other Tales." Copyright, +1875. Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +The whole vast sweep of our surrounding prospect lay answering in a +myriad fleeting shades the cloudy process of the tremendous sky. The +English heaven is a fit antithesis to the complex English earth. We +possess in America the infinite beauty of the blue; England possesses +the splendor of combined and animated clouds. Over against us, from +our station on the hills, we saw them piled and dissolved, compacted +and shifted, blotting the azure with sullen rain-spots, stretching, +breeze-fretted, into dappled fields of gray, bursting into a storm of +light or melting into a drizzle of silver. We made our way along the +rounded summits of these well-grazed heights--mild, breezy inland +downs--and descended through long-drawn slopes of fields, green to +cottage doors, to where a rural village beckoned us from its seat +among the meadows. Close beside it, I admit, the railway shoots +fiercely from its tunnel in the hills; and yet there broods upon this +charming hamlet an old-time quietude and privacy, which seems to make +it a violation of confidence to tell its name so far away. We struck +through a narrow lane, a green lane, dim with its height of hedges; it +led us to a superb old farm-house, now jostled by the multiplied lanes +and roads which have curtailed its ancient appanage. It stands in +stubborn picturesqueness, at the receipt of sad-eyed contemplation and +the sufferance of "sketches." I doubt whether out of Nuremberg--or +Pompeii!--you may find so forcible an image of the domiciliary genius +of the past. It is cruelly complete; its bended beams and joists, +beneath the burden of its gables, seem to ache and groan with memories +and regrets. The short, low windows, where lead and glass combine in +equal proportions to hint to the wondering stranger of the medieval +gloom within, still prefer their darksome office to the grace of +modern day. + +Such an old house fills an American with an indefinable feeling of +respect. So propt and patched and tinkered with clumsy tenderness, +clustered so richly about its central English sturdiness, its oaken +vertebrations, so humanized with ages of use and touches of beneficent +affection, it seemed to offer to our grateful eyes a small, rude +synthesis of the great English social order. Passing out upon the +highroad, we came to the common browsing-patch, the "village green" of +the tales of our youth. Nothing was wanting; the shaggy, mouse-colored +donkey, nosing the turf with his mild and huge proboscis, the geese, +the old woman--the old woman, in person, with her red cloak and black +bonnet, frilled about the face and double-frilled beside her decent, +placid cheeks--the towering plowman with his white smock-frock, +puckered on chest and back, his short corduroys, his mighty calves, +his big, red, rural face. We greeted these things as children greet +the loved pictures in a story book, lost and mourned and found again. +It was marvelous how well we knew them. Beside the road we saw a +plow-boy straddle, whistling on a stile. Gainsborough might have +painted him. Beyond the stile, across the level velvet of a meadow, a +footpath lay, like a thread of darker woof. We followed it from field +to field and from stile to stile. It was the way to church. At the +church we finally arrived, lost in its rook-haunted churchyard, hidden +from the work-day world by the broad stillness of pastures--a gray, +gray tower, a huge black yew, a cluster of village graves, with +crooked headstones, in grassy, low relief. The whole scene was deeply +ecclesiastical. My companion was overcome. + +"You must bury me here," he cried. "It's the first church I have seen +in my life. How it makes a Sunday where it stands!" + +The next day we saw a church of statelier proportions. We walked over +to Worcester, through such a mist of local color that I felt like one +of Smollett's pedestrian heroes, faring tavern-ward for a night of +adventures. As we neared the provincial city we saw the steepled mass +of the cathedral, long and high, rise far into the cloud-freckled +blue. And as we came nearer still, we stopt on the bridge and viewed +the solid minster reflected in the yellow Severn. And going farther +yet we entered the town--where surely Miss Austen's heroines, in +chariots and curricles, must often have come a-shopping for +swan's-down boas and high lace mittens; we lounged about the gentle +close and gazed insatiably at that most soul-soothing sight, the +waning, wasting afternoon light, the visible ether which feels the +voices of the chimes, far aloft on the broad perpendicular field of +the cathedral tower; saw it linger and nestle and abide, as it loves +to do on all bold architectural spaces, converting them graciously +into registers and witnesses of nature; tasted, too, as deeply of the +peculiar stillness of this clerical precinct; saw a rosy English lad +come forth and lock the door of the old foundation school, which +marries its hoary basement to the soaring Gothic of the church, and +carry his big responsible key into one of the quiet canonical houses; +and then stood musing together on the effect on one's mind of having +in one's boyhood haunted such cathedral shades as a King's scholar, +and yet kept ruddy with much cricket in misty meadows by the Severn. +On the third morning we betook ourselves to Lockley Park, having +learned that the greater part of it was open to visitors, and that, +indeed, on application, the house was occasionally shown. + +Within its broad enclosure many a declining spur of the great hills +melted into parklike slopes and dells. A long avenue wound and circled +from the outermost gate through an untrimmed woodland, whence you +glanced at further slopes and glades and copses and bosky recesses--at +everything except the limits of the place. It was as free and wild and +untended as the villa of an Italian prince; and I have never seen the +stern English fact of property put on such an air of innocence. The +weather had just become perfect; it was one of the dozen exquisite +days of the English year--days stamped with a refinement of purity +unknown in more liberal climes. It was as if the mellow brightness, as +tender as that of the primroses which starred the dark waysides like +petals wind-scattered over beds of moss, had been meted out to us by +the cubic foot--tempered, refined, recorded! + + + + +II + +TURGENEFF'S WORLD[67] + + +We hold to the good old belief that the presumption, in life, is in +favor of the brighter side, and we deem it, in art, an indispensable +condition of our interest in a deprest observer that he should have at +least tried his best to be cheerful. The truth, we take it, lies for +the pathetic in poetry and romance very much where it lies for the +"immoral." Morbid pathos is reflective pathos; ingenious pathos, +pathos not freshly born of the occasion; noxious immorality is +superficial immorality, immorality without natural roots in the +subject. We value most the "realists" who have an ideal of delicacy +and the elegiasts who have an ideal of joy. + +[Footnote 67: From "French Poets and Novelists," published by +Macmillan & Company, of London.] + +"Picturesque gloom, possibly," a thick and thin admirer of M. +Turgeneff's may say to us, "at least you will admit that it is +picturesque." This we heartily concede, and, recalled to a sense of +our author's brilliant diversity and ingenuity, we bring our +restrictions to a close. To the broadly generous side of his +imagination it is impossible to pay exaggerated homage, or, indeed, +for that matter, to its simple intensity and fecundity. No romancer +has created a greater number of the figures that breathe and move and +speak, in their habits as they might have lived; none, on the whole, +seems to us to have had such a masterly touch in portraiture, none +has mingled so much ideal beauty with so much unsparing reality. His +sadness has its element of error, but it has also its larger element +of wisdom. Life is, in fact, a battle. On this point optimists and +pessimists agree. Evil is insolent and strong; beauty enchanting but +rare; goodness very apt to be weak; folly very apt to be defiant; +wickedness to carry the day; imbeciles to be in great places, people +of sense in small, and mankind generally, unhappy. But the world as it +stands is no illusion, no fantasm, no evil dream of a night; we wake +up to it again for ever and ever; we can neither forget it nor deny it +nor dispense with it. We can welcome experience as it comes, and give +it what it demands, in exchange for something which it is idle to +pause to call much or little so long as it contributes to swell the +volume of consciousness. In this there is mingled pain and delight, +but over the mysterious mixture there hovers a visible rule, that bids +us learn to will and seek to understand. + +So much as this we seem to decipher between the lines of M. +Turgeneff's minutely written chronicle. He himself has sought to +understand as zealously as his most eminent competitors. He gives, at +least, no meager account of life, and he has done liberal justice to +its infinite variety. This is his great merit; his great defect, +roughly stated, is a tendency to the abuse of irony. He remains, +nevertheless, to our sense, a very welcome mediator between the world +and our curiosity. If we had space, we should like to set forth that +he is by no means our ideal story-teller--this honorable genius +possessing, attributively, a rarer skill than the finest required for +producing an artful _réchauffé_ of the actual. But even for better +romancers we must wait for a better world. Whether the world in its +higher state of perfection will occasionally offer color to scandal, +we hesitate to pronounce; but we are prone to conceive of the ultimate +novelist as a personage altogether purged of sarcasm. The imaginative +force now expended in this direction he will devote to describing +cities of gold and heavens of sapphire. But, for the present, we +gratefully accept M. Turgeneff, and reflect that his manner suits the +most frequent mood of the greater number of readers. If he were a +dogmatic optimist we suspect that, as things go, we should long ago +have ceased to miss him from our library. The personal optimism of +most of us no romancer can confirm or dissipate, and our personal +troubles, generally, place fictions of all kinds in an impertinent +light. To our usual working mood the world is apt to seem M. +Turgeneff's hard world, and when, at moments, the strain and the +pressure deepen, the ironical element figures not a little in our form +of address to those short-sighted friends who have whispered that it +is an easy one. + + +END OF VOL. X + + + + +INDEX TO THE TEN VOLUMES + +[Roman numerals indicate volumes, Arabic numerals indicate pages] + + +Adams, Henry; + biographical note on, X, 219; + Jefferson's retirement, 219. + +Adams, John; + biographical note on, IX, 87; + articles by--on his nomination of Washington to be + commander-in-chief, 87; + an estimate of Franklin, 90. + +Adams, John Quincy; + biographical note on, IX, 133; + articles by--of his mother, 133; + the moral taint inherent in slavery, 135. + +Addison, Joseph; + biographical note on, III, 236; + articles by--in Westminster Abbey, 236; + Will Honeycomb and his marriage, 240; + on pride of birth, 246; + Sir Roger and his home, 251. + +Aldrich, Thomas Bailey; + biographical note on, X, 195; + articles by--a sunrise in Stillwater, 195; + the fight at Slatter's Hill, 198; + on returning from Europe, 204. + +Andersen, Hans Christian; + biographical note on, VIII, 231; + the Emperor's new clothes, 231. + +Aquinas, St. Thomas; + biographical note on, VII, 12; + a definition of happiness, 12. + +Aristotle; + biographical note on, I, 149; + articles by--what things are pleasant, 149; + the lite most desirable, 155; + ideal husbands and wives, 158; + happiness as an end of human action, 165. + +Arnold, Matthew; + biographical note on, VI, 208; + on the motive for culture, 208. + +Ascham, Roger; + biographical note on, III, 40; + article by--on gentle methods in teaching, 40. + +Aucassin and Nicolette; + note on the authorship of the work bearing that name, VII, 30; + a passage from the book, 30. + +Audubon, John James; + biographical note on, IX, 144; + where the mocking-bird dwells, 144. + +Augustine, Aurelius St.; + biographical note on, VII, 3; + on imperial power for good and bad men 3. + + +Bacon, Francis; + biographical note on, III, 53; + essays by--of travel, 53; + of riches, 56; + of youth and age, 60; + of revenge, 63; + of marriage and single life, 65; + of envy, 67; + of goodness and goodness of nature, 74; + of studies, 77; + of regiment of health, 79. + +Balzac, Honoré de; + biographical note on, VII, 210; + articles by--the death of Père Goriot, 210; + Birotteau's early married life, 215. + +Bancroft, George; + biographical note on, IX, 217; + the fate of Evangeline's countrymen, 217. + +Beaconsfield, Lord; + biographical note on, VI, 31; + on Jerusalem by moonlight, 31. + +Bellay, Joachim du; + biographical note on, VII, 87; + why old French was not as rich as Greek and Latin, 87. + +Blackstone, Sir William; + biographical note on, IV, 169; + on professional soldiers in free countries, 169. + +Boccaccio, Giovanni; + biographical note on, VIII, 167; + the patient Griselda, 167. + +Boethius, Anicius; + biographical note on, VII, 6; + on the highest happiness, 6. + +Bolingbroke, Lord; + biographical note on, IV, 32; + articles by--of the shortness of human life, 32; + rules for the study of history, 36. + +Boswell, James; + biographical note on V, 3; + articles by--Boswell's introduction to Dr. Johnson, 3; + Johnson's audience with George III, 8; + the meeting of Johnson and John Wilkes, 15; + Johnson's wedding-day, 21. + +Bradford, William; + biographical note on, IX, 11; + his account of the landing of the Pilgrims, 11. + +Bronté, Charlotte; + biographical note on, VI, 119; + of the author of "Vanity Fair," 119. + +Brown, John; + biographical note on, VI, 56; + of Rab and the game chicken, 56. + +Browne, Sir Thomas; + biographical note on, III, 114; + articles by--of charity in judgments, 114; + nothing strictly immortal, 116. + +Bryant, William Cullen; + biographical note on, IX, 194; + an October day in Florence, 194. + +Buckle, Henry Thomas; + biographical note on, VI, 198; + articles by--the isolation of Spain, 198; + George III and the elder Pitt, 204. + +Bunyan, John; + biographical note on, III, 165; + articles by--a dream of the Celestial City, 165; + the death of Valiant-for-truth and of Stand-fast, 169; + ancient Vanity Fair, 172. + +Burke, Edmund; + biographical note on, IV, 194; + articles by--the principles of good taste, 194; + a letter to a noble lord, 207; + on the death of his son, 212; + Marie Antoinette, 214. + +Burnet, Gilbert; + biographical note on, III, 195; + on Charles II, 195. + +Bury, Richard de; + biographical note on, III, 3; + in praise of books, 3. + +Byrd, William; + biographical note on, IX, 38; + at the home of Colonel Spotswood, 38. + +Byron, Lord; + biographical note on, V, 134; + articles by--his mother's treatment of him, 134; + to his wife after the separation, 138; + to Sir Walter Scott, 140; + of art and nature as poetical subjects, 143. + + +Cæsar, Julius; + biographical note on, II, 61; + articles by--the building of the bridge across the Rhine, 61; + the invasion of Britain, 64; + overcoming the Nervii, 71; + the Battle of Pharsalia and the death of Pompey, 78. + +Calvin, John; + biographical note on, VII, 84; + of freedom for the will, 84. + +Carlyle, Thomas; + biographical note on, V, 179; + articles by--Charlotte Corday, 179; + the blessedness of work, 187; + Cromwell, 190; + in praise of those who toil, 201; + the certainty of justice, 202; + the greatness of Scott, 206; + Boswell and his book, 214; + might Burns have been saved, 223. + +Casanova, Jacques (Chevalier de Seingalt); + biographical note on, VIII, 200; + an interview with Frederick the Great, 200. + +Cato, the Censor; + biographical note on, II, 3; + on work on a Roman Farm, 3. + +Caxton, William; + biographical note on, III, 22; + on true nobility and chivalry, 22. + +Cellini, Benvenuto; + biographical note on, VIII, 182; + the casting of his Perseus and Medusa, 182. + +Cervantes, Miguel de; + biographical note on, VIII, 218; + articles by--the beginnings of Don Quixote's Career, 218; + how Don Quixote died, 224. + +Channing, William E.; + biographical note on, IX, 139; + of greatness in Napoleon, 139. + +Chateaubriand, Viscomte de; + biographical note on, VII, 182; + in an American forest, 182. + +Chaucer, Geoffrey; + biographical note on, III, 17; + on acquiring and using riches, 17. + +Chesterfield, Lord; + biographical note on, IV, 66; + articles by--on good manners, dress and the world, 66; + of attentions to ladies, 71. + +Cicero; + biographical note on, II, 8; + articles by--the blessings of old age, 8; + on the death of his daughter Tullia, 34; + of brave and elevated spirits, 37; + of Scipio's death and of friendship, 43. + +Clarendon, Lord; + biographical note on, III, 144; + on Charles I, 144. + +Coleridge, Samuel Taylor; + biographical note on, V, 70; + articles by--does fortune favor fools? 70; + the destiny of the United States, 76. + +Comines, Philipe de; + biographical note on, VII, 46; + the character of Louis XI, 46. + +Cooper, James Fenimore; + biographical note on, IX, 170; + articles by--his father's arrival at Otsego Lake, 170; + running the gantlet, 178; + Leather-stocking's farewell, 185. + +Cowley, Abraham; + biographical note on, III, 156; + articles by--of obscurity, 156; + of procrastination, 159. + +Cowper, William; + biographical note on, IV, 217; + articles by--on keeping one's self employed, 217; + Johnson's treatment of Milton, 219; + the publication of his books, 221. + +Curtis, George William; + biographical note on, X, 183; + our cousin the curate, 183. + + +Dana, Charles A.; + biographical note on, X, 146; + Greeley as a man of genius, 146. + +Dana, Richard Henry (the younger); + biographical note on, X, 93; + a fierce gale under a clear sky, 93. + +D'Angoulême, Marguerite; + biographical note on, VII, 53; + of husbands who are unfaithful, 53. + +Dante Alighieri; + biographical note on, VIII, 152; + articles by--that long descent makes no man noble, 152; + of Beatrice and her death, 157. + +Darwin, Charles; + biographical note on, VI, 47; + articles by--on variations in mammals, birds and fishes, 47; + on the genesis of his great book, 51. + +Daudet, Alphonse; + biographical note on, VIII, 55; + articles by--a great man's widow, 55; + his first dress coat, 61. + +Defoe, Daniel; + biographical note on, III, 201; + the shipwreck of Crusoe, 201; + the rescue of Man Friday, 204; + the time of the great plague, 211. + +De Quincey, Thomas; + biographical note on, V, 115; + articles by--dreams of an opium eater, 115; + Joan of Arc, 123; + Charles Lamb, 128. + +Descartes, René; + biographical note on, VII, 107; + of material things and of the existence of God, 107. + +Dickens, Charles; + biographical note on, VI, 86; + articles by--Sydney Carton's death, 86; + Bob Sawyer's party, 88; + Dick Swiveler and the Marchioness, 97; + a happy return of the day, 105. + +Dryden, John; + biographical note on, III, 181; + of Elizabethan dramatists, 181. + +Dumas, Alexander; + biographical note on, VII, 241; + the shoulder, the belt and the handkerchief, 241. + + +Edwards, Jonathan; + biographical note on, IX, 44; + on liberty and moral agencies, 44. + +Eliot, George; + biographical note on, VI, 167; + the Hall Farm, 167. + +Emerson, Ralph Waldo; + biographical note on, IX, 223; + articles by--Thoreau's broken task, 223; + the intellectual honesty of Montaigne, 229; + his visit to Carlyle at Craigenputtock, 231. + +Epictetus; + biographical note on, I, 223; + articles by--on freedom, 223; + on friendship, 229; + the philosopher and the crowd, 235. + +Erasmus, Desiderius; + biographical note on, VIII, 209; + specimens of his wit and wisdom, 209. + + +Fielding, Henry; + biographical note on, IV, 75; + articles by--Tom the hero enters the stage, 75; + Partridge sees Garrick at the play, 83; + Mr. Adams in a political light, 89. + +Flaubert, Gustave; + biographical note on, VIII, 22; + Yonville and its people, 22. + +Fox, George; + biographical note on, III, 161; + an interview with Oliver Cromwell, 161. + +Foxe, John; + biographical note on, III, 45; + on the death of Anne Boleyn, 45. + +Franklin, Benjamin; + biographical note on, IX, 51; + articles by--his first entry into Philadelphia, 51; + warnings Braddock did not heed, 55; + how to draw lightning from the clouds, 59; + the way to wealth, 61; + a dialog with the gout, 68; + a proposal to Madame Helvetius, 76. + +Freeman, Edward A.; + biographical note on, VI, 214; + the death of William the Conqueror, 214. + +Froissart, Jean; + biographical note on, VII, 39; + the battle of Crécy, 39. + +Froude, James Anthony; + biographical note on, VI, 122; + articles by--of history as a science, 122; + the character of Henry VIII, 132; + Cæsar's mission, 136. + +Fuller, Margaret; + biographical note on, X, 52; + articles by--her visit to George Sand, 52; + two glimpses of Carlyle, 54. + +Fuller, Thomas; + biographical note on, III, 149; + on the qualities of the good school-master, 149. + + +Gautier, Theophile; + biographical note on, VIII, 14; + Pharaoh's entry into Thebes, 14. + +Gibbon, Edward; + biographical note on, IV, 226; + articles by--the romance of his youth, 226; + the inception and completion of his "Decline and Fall," 229; + the fall of Zenobia, 230; + Alaric's entry into Rome, 237; + the death of Hosein, 242; + the causes of the destruction of the city of Rome, 246. + +Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von; + biographical note on, VIII, 95; + articles by--on first reading Shakespeare, 95; + the coronation of Joseph II, 99. + +Goldsmith, Oliver; + biographical note on, IV, 177; + articles by--the ambitions of the vicar's family, 177; + sagacity in insects, 182; + a Chinaman's view of London, 188. + +Gray, Thomas; + biographical note on, IV, 141; + articles by--Warwick Castle, 141; + to his friend Mason on the death of Mason's mother, 143; + on his own writings, 144; + his friendship for Bonstetten, 146. + +Greeley, Horace; + biographical note on, X, 58; + the fatality of self-seeking in editors and authors, 58. + +Green, John Richard; + biographical note on, VI, 242; + on George Washington, 242. + +Grote, George; + biographical note on, V, 165; + articles by--the mutilation of the Hermæ, 165; + if Alexander had lived, 172. + +Guizot, François; + biographical note on, VII, 189; + Shakespeare as an example of civilization, 189. + + +Hamilton, Alexander; + biographical note on, IX, 123; + articles by--of the failure of the Confederation, 123; + his reasons for not declining Burr's challenge, 129. + +Harrison, Frederick; + biographical note on, VI, 230; + the great books of the world, 230. + +Harte, Bret; + biographical note on, X, 224; + articles by--Peggy Moffat's inheritance, 224; + John Chinaman, 236; + M'liss goes to school, 240. + +Hawthorne, Nathaniel; + biographical note on, IX, 235; + articles by--occupants of an old manse, 235; + Arthur Dimmesdale on the scaffold, 242; + of life at Brook Farm, 248; + the death of Judge Pyncheon, 252. + +Hay, John; + biographical note on, X, 211; + Lincoln's early fame, 211. + +Hazlitt, William; + biographical note on, V, 111; + on Hamlet, 111. + +Heine, Heinrich; + biographical note on, VIII, 139; + reminiscences of Napoleon, 139. + +Herodotus; + biographical note on, I, 3; + articles by--Solon's words of wisdom to Croesus, 3; + Babylon and its capture by Cyrus, 9; + the pyramid of Cheops, 18; + the story of Periander's son, 20. + +Holmes, Oliver Wendell; + biographical note on, X, 31; + articles by--of doctors, lawyers and ministers, 31; + of the genius of Emerson, 36; + the house in which the professor lived, 42; + of women who put on airs, 49. + +Howell, James; + biographical note on, III, 106; + articles by--the Bucentaur in Venice, 106; + the city of Rome in 1621, 109. + +Howells, William Dean; + biographical note on, X, 207; + to Albany by the night boat, 207. + +Hugo, Victor; + biographical note on, VII, 228; + articles by--the Battle of Waterloo, 228; + the beginnings and expansions of Paris, 235. + +Humboldt, Alexander von; + biographical note on, VIII, 130; + an essay on man, 130. + +Hume, David; + biographical note on, IV, 110; + articles by--on the character of Queen Elizabeth, 110; + the defeat of the Armada, 113; + the first principles of government, 118. + +Huxley, Thomas Henry; + biographical note on, VI, 219; + a piece of chalk, 219. + + +Ibsen, Henrik; + biographical note on, VIII, 245; + the thought child, 245. + +Irving, Washington; + biographical note on, IX, 147; + articles by--the last of the Dutch governors of New York, 147; + the awakening of Rip Van Winkle, 151; + at Abbotsford with Scott, 161. + + +James, Henry; + biographical note on, X, 246; + articles by--among the Malvern Hills, 246; + Turgeneff's world, 252. + +Jefferson, Thomas; + biographical note on, IX, 98; + articles by--when the Bastile fell, 98; + the futility of disputes, 106; + of blacks and whites in the South, 108; + his account of Logan's famous speech, 114. + +Johnson, Samuel; + biographical note on, IV, 94; + articles by--on publishing his "Dictionary," 94; + Pope and Dryden compared, 97; + his letter to Chesterfield on the completion of his "Dictionary," 101; + on the advantage of living in a garret, 104. + +Joinville, Jean de; + biographical note on, VII, 27; + Greek fire in battle described, 27. + +Jonson, Ben; + biographical note on, III, 87; + of Shakespeare and other wits, 87. + + +Kempis, Thomas à; + biographical note on VII, 16; + of eternal life and of striving for it, 16. + +Kinglake, Alexander W.; + biographical note on, VI, 42; + articles by--on mocking at the Sphinx, 42; + on the beginnings of the Crimean war 44. + +Knox, John; + biographical note on, III, 36; + his account of his interview with Mary Queen of Scots, 36. + + +Lamartine, Alphonse de; + biographical note on, VII, 195; + of Mirabeau's origin and place in history, 195. + +Lamb, Charles; + biographical note on, V, 93; + articles by--dream children, 93; + poor relations, 99; + the origin of roast pig, 102; + that we should rise with the lark, 107. + +Landor, Walter Savage; + biographical note on, V, 87; + articles by--the death of Hofer, 87; + Napoleon and Pericles, 91. + +La Rochefoucauld, Duc de; + biographical note on, VII, 112; + selections from the "Maxims," 112. + +Le Sage, Alain René; + biographical note on, VII, 129; + articles by--in the service of Dr. Sangrado, 129; + as an archbishop's favorite, 135. + +Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim; + biographical note on, VIII, 86; + articles by--poetry and painting compared, 86; + of suffering in restraint, 89. + +Livy; + biographical note on, II, 105; + articles by--Horatius Cocles at the bridge, 105; + Hannibal's crossing of the Alps, 108; + Hannibal and Scipio at Zama, 117. + +Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth; + biographical note on, X, 3; + musings in Père Lachaise, 3. + +Lowell, James Russell; + biographical note on, X, 125; + articles by--the poet as prophet, 125; + the first of the moderns, 129; + of faults found in Shakespeare, 133; + Americans as successors of the Dutch, 138. + +Lucian; + biographical note on, I, 237; + articles by--a descent to the unknown, 237; + among the philosophers, 243; + of liars and lying, 253. + +Luther, Martin; + biographical note on, VIII, 79; + some of his table talk and sayings, 79. + +Lytton, Edward Bulwer; + biographical note on, VI, 21; + his description of the descent of Vesuvius on Pompeii, 21. + + +Macaulay, Lord; + biographical note on, V, 233; + articles by--Puritan and Royalist, 233; + Cromwell's army, 238; + the opening of the trial of Warren Hastings, 242; + the gift of Athens to man, 248; + the pathos of Byron's life, 251. + +Machiavelli, Niccolo; + biographical note on, VIII, 178; + ought princes to keep their promises, 178. + +Malory, Sir Thomas; + biographical note on, III, 26; + article by--on the finding of a sword for Arthur, 26. + +Mandeville, Sir John; + biographical note on, III, 8; + articles by--the route from England to Constantinople, 8; + at the court of the great Chan, 11. + +Marcus Aurelius; + biographical note on, II, 248; + his debt to others, 248. + +Mather, Cotton; + biographical note on, IX, 33; + in praise of John Eliot, 33. + +Maupassant, Guy de; + biographical note on, VIII, 69; + Madame Jeanne's last days, 69. + +Merivale, Charles; + biographical note on, VI, 37; + on the personality of Augustus, 37. + +Milton, John; + biographical note on, III, 121; + articles by--on his own literary ambitions, 121; + a complete education defined, 126; + on reading in his youth, 129; + in defense of books, 131; + a noble and puissant nation, 135; + of fugitive and cloistered virtue, 141. + +Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley; + biographical note on, IV, 58; + articles by--on happiness in the matrimonial state, 58; + inoculation for the smallpox, 63. + +Montaigne, Michel de; + biographical note on, VII, 90; + articles by--a word to his readers, 90; + of society and solitude, 92; + of his own library, 94; + that the soul discharges her passions among false objects where + true ones are wanting, 99; + that men are not to judge of our happiness until after death, 102. + +Montesquieu, Baron de; + biographical note on, VII, 150; + articles by--of the causes which destroyed Rome, 150; + of the relation of laws to different human beings, 156. + +More, Sir Thomas; + biographical note on, III, 29; + on life in Utopia, 29. + +Morley, John; + biographical note on, VI, 244; + on Voltaire as an author and man of action, 244. + +Morris, Gouverneur; + biographical note on, IX, 117; + articles by--the opening of the French States-General, 117; + the execution of Louis XVI, 120. + +Motley, John Lothrop; + biographical note on, X, 68; + articles by--Charles V and Phillip II in Brussels, 63; + the arrival of the Spanish Armada, 74; + "The Spanish Fury," 84. + +Musset, Alfred de; + biographical note on, VIII, 8; + Titian's son after a night at play, 8. + + +Newman, John Henry; + biographical note on, VI, 3; + articles by--on the beginnings of tractarianism, 3; + on his submission to the Catholic Church, 7; + of Athens as a true university, 13. + + +Paine, Thomas; + biographical note on, IX, 94; + in favor of the separation of the colonies from Great Britain, 94. + +Parkman, Francis; + biographical note on, X, 157; + articles by--Champlain's battle with the Iroquois, 157; + the death of LaSalle, 161; + the coming of Frontenae to Canada, 167; + the death of Isaac Jogues, 171; + why New France failed, 176; + the return of the Coureurs-de-Bois, 179. + +Parton, James; + biographical note on, X, 150; + Aaron Burr and Madame Jumel, 150. + +Pascal, Blaise; + biographical note on, VII, 118; + of the prevalence of self-love, 118. + +Pepys, Samuel; + biographical note on, III, 185; + on various doings of Mr. and Mrs. Pepys, 185; + of England without Cromwell, 191. + +Petrarch, Francis; + biographical note on, VIII, 162; + of good and evil fortune, 162. + +Plato; + biographical note on, I, 95; + articles by--the image of the cave, 95; + of good and evil, 103; + Socrates in praise of love, 108; + the praise of Socrates by Alcibiades, 121; + the refusal of Socrates to escape from prison, 133; + the death of Socrates, 143. + +Pliny, the Elder; + biographical note on, II, 162; + articles by--the qualities of the dog, 162; + three great artists of Greece, 165. + +Pliny, the younger; + biographical note on, II, 218; + articles by--the Christians in his province, 218; + to Tacitus on the eruption of Vesuvius, 222. + +Plutarch; + biographical note on, I, 190; + articles by--Demosthenes and Cicero compared, 190; + the assassination of Cæsar, 197; + Cleopatra's barge, 207; + the death of Antony and Cleopatra, 211. + +Poe, Edgar Allan; + biographical note on, X, 11; + articles by--the cask of Amontillado, 11; + of Hawthorne and the short story, 19; + of Willis, Bryant, Halleck and Macaulay, 25. + +Polo, Marco; + biographical note on, VIII, 147; + a description of Japan, 147. + +Polybius; + biographical note on, I, 171; + articles by--the battle of Cannæ, 171; + Hannibal's advance on Rome, 178; + the defense of Syracuse by Archimedes, 183. + +Pope, Alexander; + biographical note on, IV, 41; + articles by--an ancient English country seat, 41; + his compliments to Lady Mary, 47; + how to make an epic poem, 52. + +Prescott, William H.; + biographical note on, IX, 198; + articles by--the fate of Egmont and Hoorne, 198; + the genesis of "Don Quixote," 209. + + +Quintillian; + biographical note on, II, 171; + articles by--on the orator as a good man, 171. + + +Rabelais, François; + biographical note on, VII, 58; + articles by--Gargantua and his childhood, 58; + Gargantua's education, 64; + of the founding of an ideal abbey, 74. + +Raleigh, Sir Walter; + biographical note on, III, 49; + on the mutability of human affairs, 49. + +Renan, Joseph Ernest; + biographical note on, VIII, 30; + the Roman empire in robust youth, 30. + +Rousseau, Jean Jacques; + biographical note on, VII, 170; + articles by--of Christ and Socrates, 170; + of the management of children, 173. + +Ruskin, John; + biographical note on, VI, 140; + articles by--of the history and sovereignty of Venice, 140; + St. Marks at Venice, 151; + of water, 159. + + +Saint-Simon, Duc de; + biographical note on, VII, 141; + articles by--the death of the Dauphin, 141; + the public watching the king and madame, 145. + +Sallust; + biographical note on, II, 91; + articles by--the genesis of Catiline, 91; + the fate of the conspirators, 98. + +Sand, George; + biographical note on, VII, 250; + Leila and the poet, 250. + +Schiller, Friedrich von; + biographical note on, VIII, 107; + articles by--the battle of Lutzen, 107; + Philip II and the Netherlands, 117. + +Schlegel, August Wilhelm von; + biographical note on, VIII, 124; + on Shakespeare's "Macbeth," 124. + +Scott, Sir Walter; + biographical note on, V, 31; + articles by--the arrival of the master of Ravenswood, 31; + the death of Meg Merriles, 35; + a vision of Rob Roy, 40; + Queen Elizabeth and Amy Robsart at Kenilworth, 48; + the illness and death of Lady Scott, 62. + +Seneca; + biographical note on, II, 128; + articles by--the wise man, 128; + consolation for the loss of friends, 134; + to Nero on clemency, 141; + the pilot, 149; + a happy life, 153. + +Sévigné, Madame de; + biographical note on, VII, 123; + articles by--great news from Paris, 123; + an imposing funeral described, 125. + +Sewall, Samuel; + biographical note on, IX, 19; + his account of how he courted Madame Winthrop, 19. + +Shakespeare, William; + biographical note on, III, 82; + the speech of Brutus to his countrymen, 82; + Shylock in defense of his race, 83; + Hamlet to the players, 85. + +Shelley, Percy Bysshe; + biographical note on, V, 151; + articles by--in defense of poetry, 151; + the baths of Caracalla, 155; + the ruins of Pompeii, 158. + +Smith, Adam; + biographical note on, IV, 163; + articles by--of ambition misdirected, 163; + the advantages of a division of labor, 166. + +Smith, John; + biographical note on, IX, 3; + his story of Pocahontas, 3. + +Southey, Robert; + biographical note on, V, 80; + Nelson's death at Trafalgar, 80. + +Spencer, Herbert; + biographical note on, VI, 173; + articles by--the origin of professional occupations, 173; + self-dependence and paternalism, 181; + the ornamental and the useful in education, 186; + reminiscences of his boyhood, 191; + a tribute to E. L. Youmans, 195; + why he never married, 197. + +Staël, Madame de; + biographical note on, VII, 178; + of Napoleon Bonaparte, 178. + +Steele, Sir Richard; + biographical note on, IV, 3; + articles by--of companions and flatterers, 3; + the story-teller and his art, 7; + Sir Roger and the widow, 10; + the Coverley family portraits, 16; + on certain symptoms of greatness, 21; + how to be happy tho married, 26. + +Sterne, Laurence; + biographical note on, IV, 123; + articles by--the starling in captivity, 123; + to Moulines with Maria, 127; + the death of LeFevre, 129; + passages from the romance of my Uncle Toby and the widow, 131. + +Stevenson, Robert Louis; + biographical note on, VI, 247; + articles by--Francis Villon's terrors, 247; + the lantern bearers, 251. + +Suetonius; + biographical note on, II, 231; + articles by--the last days of Augustus, 231; + the good deeds of Nero, 236; + the death of Nero, 241. + +Swift, Jonathan; + biographical note on, III, 216; + on pretense in philosophers, 216; + on the hospitality of the vulgar, 221; + the art of lying in politics, 224; + a meditation upon a broomstick, 228; + Gulliver among the giants, 230. + + +Tacitus; + biographical note on, II, 177; + articles by--from Republican to Imperial Rome, 177; + the funeral of Germanicus, 183; + the death of Seneca, 189; + the burning of Rome by order of Nero, 193; + the burning of the capitol at Rome, 202; + the siege of Cremona, 205; + Agricola, 212. + +Taine, Hippolite Adolphe; + biographical note on, VIII, 38; + articles by--on Thackeray as a satirist, 38; + on the king's getting up for the day, 43. + +Taylor, Jeremy; + biographical note on, III, 153; + on the benefits of adversity, 153. + +Thackeray, William M.; + biographical note on, VI, 62; + articles by--the imperturbable Marlborough, 62; + the ball before the battle of Waterloo, 65; + the death of Colonel Newcome, 75; + London in the time of the first George, 80. + +Thiers, Louis Adolph; + biographical note on, VII, 201; + the burning of Moscow, 201. + +Thoreau, Henry David; + biographical note on, X, 99; + articles by--the building of his house at Walden Pond, 99; + how to make two small ends meet, 103; + on reading the ancient classics, 115; + of society and solitude, 120. + +Thucydides; + biographical note on, I, 25; + articles by--the Athenians and Spartans contrasted, 25; + the plague at Athens, 38; + the sailing of the Athenian fleet for Sicily, 45; + the completion of the Athenian defeat at Syracuse, 52. + +Tocqueville, Alexis de; + biographical note on, VIII, 3; + on the tyranny of the American majority, 3. + +Tolstoy, Count Leo; + biographical note on, VIII, 252; + Shakespeare not a great genius, 252. + +Turgeneff, Ivan; + biographical note on, VIII, 239; + Bazarov's death, 239. + + +Vasari, Giorgio; + biographical note on, VIII, 192; + of Raphael and his early death, 192. + +Vigny, Alfred de; + biographical note on, VII, 222; + Richelieu's way with his master, 222. + +Ville-Hardouin, Geoffrey de; + biographical note on, VII, 23; + the sack of Constantinople, 23. + +Voltaire, François Arouet; + biographical note on, VII, 160; + articles by--of Bacon's greatness, 160; + England's regard for men of letters, 164. + + +Walpole, Horace; + biographical note on, IV, 149; + articles by--on Hogarth, 149; + the war in America, 154; + the death of George II, 155. + +Walton, Izaak; + biographical note on, III, 92; + articles by--the antiquity of angling, 92; + of the trout, 96; + the death of George Herbert, 101. + +Ward, Artemus; + biographical note on, X, 191; + Forrest as Othello, 191. + +Washington, George; + biographical note on, IX, 79; + articles by--to his wife on taking command of the army, 79; + of his army in Cambridge, 81; + to the Marquis de Chastellux on his marriage, 84. + +White, Gilbert; + biographical note on, IV, 158; + on the chimney swallow, 158. + +Wordsworth, William; + biographical note on, V, 23; + a poet defined, 23. + +Wyclif, John; + biographical note on, III, 4; + a passage from his translation of the Bible, 14. + + +Xenophon; + biographical note on, I, 68; + articles by--the character of Cyrus the younger, 68; + the Greek army in the snows of Armenia, 75; + the battle of Leuctra, 81; + the army of the Spartans, 84; + how to choose and manage saddle horses, 87. + + +Zola, Emile; + biographical note on, VIII, 48; + Napoleon III in time of war, 48. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Best of the World's Classics, +Restricted to Prose, Vol. X (of X) - America - II, Index, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST OF THE WORLD'S CLASSICS *** + +***** This file should be named 29145-8.txt or 29145-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/1/4/29145/ + +Produced by Joseph R. Hauser, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/29145-8.zip b/29145-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3890fb --- /dev/null +++ b/29145-8.zip diff --git a/29145-h.zip b/29145-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..68f99c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/29145-h.zip diff --git a/29145-h/29145-h.htm b/29145-h/29145-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d34b1a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/29145-h/29145-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9126 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Best of the World's Classics - Volume X of 10 - America—II, Index + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { width: 80%; padding: 1em; text-align: left; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} +table.tb1 { width: 60%; } +table.tb2 { width: 40%; } +div.index { /* styles that apply to all text in an index */ + font-size: 90%; /*small type for compactness */ + } + ul.IX { + list-style-type: none; + font-size:inherit; + } + .IX li { /* list items in an index: compressed verticallly */ + margin-top: 0; + } + +.tocpg {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + +.img1 {border:solid 1px; } + +.f1 { font-size:smaller; } + +.td1 {text-align:right; } + + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +a[name] { position: static; } + a:link { border:none; color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none; } + a:visited {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none; } + a:hover { color:#ff0000; } + +.blockquote { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: solid 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: 0.8em; + text-decoration: + none; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Best of the World's Classics, +Restricted to Prose, Vol. X (of X) - America - II, Index, 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: The Best of the World's Classics, Restricted to Prose, Vol. X (of X) - America - II, Index + +Author: Various + +Editor: Henry Cabot Lodge + Francis W. Halsey + +Release Date: June 17, 2009 [EBook #29145] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST OF THE WORLD'S CLASSICS *** + + + + +Produced by Joseph R. Hauser, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img class="img1" src="images/image_01.jpg" width="500" height="780" alt="POE, LOWELL, LONGFELLOW, PARKMAN" /> +<span class="caption">POE, LOWELL, LONGFELLOW, PARKMAN</span> +</div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_02.jpg" width="500" height="792" alt="Title Page" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h1>THE BEST</h1> +<h3><i>of the</i></h3> +<h1><span class="smcap">World's Classics</span></h1> + +<h4>RESTRICTED TO PROSE</h4> +<div class="center"><img src="images/image_03.jpg" alt="Decorative Image" width="400" height="102" /></div> + + +<p> </p> +<h2>HENRY CABOT LODGE</h2> +<h4><i>Editor-in-Chief</i></h4> + +<h2>FRANCIS W. HALSEY</h2> +<h4><i>Associate Editor</i></h4> +<p> </p> +<h3>With an Introduction, Biographical and<br /> +Explanatory Notes, etc.</h3> + +<h3>IN TEN VOLUMES</h3> +<p> </p> +<h3>Vol. X</h3> +<h1>AMERICA—II</h1> +<h1>INDEX</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY</h3> +<h4>NEW YORK AND LONDON</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h5><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1909, <span class="smcap">by</span></h5> +<h4>FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY</h4> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>The Best of the World's Classics</h2> + +<h2>VOL. X</h2> +<h2>AMERICA—II</h2> +<h3>1807-1909</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Vol. X—America—II</span></h3> +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td> </td><td colspan="2"> </td> +<td> </td><td class="tocpg"><i>Page</i></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOW">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</a></span>—(Born in 1807, died in 1882.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td> +<td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#MUSINGS_IN_PERE_LACHAISE">Musings in Père Lachaise.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td> +<td> </td><td colspan="2">(From "Outre-Mer")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#EDGAR_ALLAN_POE">Edgar Allan Poe</a></span>—(Born in 1809, died in 1849.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_CASK_OF_AMONTILLADO">The Cask of Amontillado.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(Published originally in <i>Godey's Magazine</i> in 1846)</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#OF_HAWTHORNE_AND_THE_SHORT_STORY">Of Hawthorne and the Short Story.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From a review of Hawthorne's "Twice Told Tales" and "Mosses from an Old Manse" published in <i>Godey's Magazine</i> in 1846)</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>III</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#OF_WILLIS_BRYANT_HALLECK_AND_MACAULAY">Of Willis, Bryant, Halleck and Macaulay.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(Passages selected from articles printed in Volume II of the "Works of Poe")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#OLIVER_WENDELL_HOLMES">Oliver Wendell Holmes</a></span>—(Born in 1809, died in 1894.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#OF_DOCTORS_LAWYERS_AND_MINISTERS">Of Doctors, Lawyers and Ministers.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter V of "The Poet at the Breakfast Table")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#OF_THE_GENIUS_OF_EMERSON">Of the Genius of Emerson.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From an address before the Massachusetts Historical Society in 1882)</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>III</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_HOUSE_IN_WHICH_THE_PROFESSOR_LIVED">The House in Which the Professor Lived.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Part X of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>IV</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#OF_WOMEN_WHO_PUT_ON_AIRS">Of Women Who Put on Airs.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Part XI of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#MARGARET_FULLER">Margaret Fuller</a></span>—(Born in 1810, lost in a shipwreck off Fire Island in 1850.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#HER_VISIT_TO_GEORGE_SAND">Her Visit to George Sand.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From a letter to Elizabeth Hoar)</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#TWO_GLIMPSES_OF_CARLYLE">Two Glimpses of Carlyle.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From a letter to Emerson)</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#HORACE_GREELEY">Horace Greeley</a></span>—(Born in 1811, died in 1872.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_FATALITY_OF_SELF-SEEKING_IN_EDITORS_AND_AUTHORS">The Fatality of Self-Seeking in Editors and Authors.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(Printed with the "Miscellanies" in the "Recollections of a Busy Life")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#JOHN_LOTHROP_MOTLEY">John Lothrop Motley</a></span>—(Born in 1814, died in 1877.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#CHARLES_V_AND_PHILIP_II_IN_BRUSSELS">Charles V and Philip II in Brussels.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter I of "The Rise of the Dutch Republic")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_ARRIVAL_OF_THE_SPANISH_ARMADA">The Arrival of the Spanish Armada.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter XIX of the "History of the United Netherlands")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>III</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_SPANISH_FURY">"The Spanish Fury."</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Part IV, Chapter V, of "The Rise of the Dutch Republic")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#RICHARD_HENRY_DANA_THE_YOUNGER">Richard Henry Dana, the Younger</a></span>—(Born in 1815, died in 1882.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#A_FIERCE_GALE_UNDER_A_CLEAR_SKY">A Fierce Gale under a Clear Sky.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From "Two Years Before the Mast")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#HENRY_DAVID_THOREAU">Henry David Thoreau</a></span>—(Born in 1817, died in 1862.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_BUILDING_OF_HIS_HOUSE_AT_WALDEN_POND">The Building of His House at Walden Pond.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter I of "Walden, or, Life in the Woods")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#HOW_TO_MAKE_TWO_SMALL_ENDS_MEET">How to Make Two Small Ends Meet.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapters I and II of "Walden")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>III</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#ON_READING_THE_ANCIENT_CLASSICS">On Reading the Ancient Classics.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter III of "Walden")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>IV</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#OF_SOCIETY_AND_SOLITUDE">Of Society and Solitude.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter IV of "Walden")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#JAMES_RUSSELL_LOWELL">James Russell Lowell</a></span>—(Born in 1819, died in 1891.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#JAMES_RUSSELL_LOWELL">The Poet as Prophet.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From an essay contributed to <i>The Pioneer</i> in 1843)</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_FIRST_OF_THE_MODERNS">The First of the Moderns.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From the first essay in the first series, entitled +"Among My Books")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>III</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#OF_FAULTS_FOUND_IN_SHAKESPEARE">Of Faults Found in Shakespeare.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From the essay entitled "Shakespeare Once More," +printed in the first series entitled "Among My Books")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>IV</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#AMERICANS_AS_SUCCESSORS_OF_THE_DUTCH">Americans as Successors of the Dutch.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From the essay entitled "On a Certain +Condescension in Foreigners," printed in "From My Study Window")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#CHARLES_A_DANA">Charles A. Dana</a></span>—(Born in 1819, died in 1897.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#GREELEY_AS_A_MAN_OF_GENIUS">Greeley as a Man of Genius.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From an article printed in the New York <i>Sun</i>, December 5, 1872)</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#JAMES_PARTON">James Parton</a></span>—(Born in 1822, died in 1891.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#AARON_BURR_AND_MADAME_JUMEL">Aaron Burr and Madame Jumel.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From his "Life of Burr")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#FRANCIS_PARKMAN">Francis Parkman</a></span>—(Born in 1823, died in 1893.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#CHAMPLAINS_BATTLE_WITH_THE_IROQUOIS">Champlain's Battle with the Iroquois.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter X of "The Pioneers of France +in the New World")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_DEATH_OF_LA_SALLE">The Death of La Salle.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter XXV of "La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>III</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_COMING_OF_FRONTENAC_TO_CANADA">The Coming of Frontenac to Canada.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapters I and II of "Count Frontenac and New France")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>IV</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_DEATH_OF_ISAAC_JOGUES">The Death of Isaac Jogues.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapters XVI and XX of "The Jesuits in North America")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>V</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#WHY_NEW_FRANCE_FAILED">Why New France Failed.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From the Introduction to "The Pioneers of France in the New World")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>VI</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_RETURN_OF_THE_COUREURS-DE-BOIS">The Return of the Coureurs-de-Bois.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter XVIII of "The Old Régime in Canada")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#GEORGE_WILLIAM_CURTIS">George William Curtis</a></span>—(Born in 1824, died in 1892.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#OUR_COUSIN_THE_CURATE">Our Cousin the Curate.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter VII of "Prue and I")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#ARTEMUS_WARD">Artemus Ward</a></span>—(Born in 1824, died in 1867.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#FORREST_AS_OTHELLO">Forrest as Othello.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From "Artemus Ward, His Book")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#THOMAS_BAILEY_ALDRICH">Thomas Bailey Aldrich</a></span>—(Born in 1836, died in 1908.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#A_SUNRISE_IN_STILLWATER">A Sunrise in Stillwater.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter I of "The Stillwater Tragedy")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#THE_FIGHT_AT_SLATTERS_HILL">The Fight at Slatter's Hill.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter XIII of "The Story of a Bad Boy")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>III</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#ON_RETURNING_FROM_EUROPE">On Returning from Europe.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter IX of "From Ponkapog to Pesth")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#WILLIAM_DEAN_HOWELLS">William Dean Howells</a></span>—(Born in 1837.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#TO_ALBANY_BY_THE_NIGHT_BOAT">To Albany by the Night Boat.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Chapter III of "The Wedding Journey")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#JOHN_HAY">John Hay</a></span>—(Born in 1838, died in 1905.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#LINCOLNS_EARLY_FAME">Lincoln's Early Fame.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From Volume X, Chapter XVIII of "Abraham Lincoln, A History")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#HENRY_ADAMS">Henry Adams</a></span>—(Born in 1838.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="3"><a href="#JEFFERSONS_RETIREMENT">Jefferson's Retirement.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From the "History of the United States")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#BRET_HARTE">Bret Harte</a></span>—(Born in 1839, died in 1902.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#PEGGY_MOFFATS_INHERITANCE">Peggy Moffat's Inheritance.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From "The Twins of Table Mountain")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#JOHN_CHINAMAN">John Chinaman.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From "The Luck of Roaring Camp")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>III</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#MLISS_GOES_TO_SCHOOL">M'liss Goes to School.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From "M'liss," one of the stories in "The Luck of Roaring Camp")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="5"><span class="smcap"><a href="#HENRY_JAMES">Henry James</a></span>—(Born in 1843.)</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>I</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#AMONG_THE_MALVERN_HILLS">Among the Malvern Hills.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From "A Passionate Pilgrim and Other Tales")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td>II</td><td colspan="3"><a href="#TURGENEFFS_WORLD">Turgeneff's World.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td><td colspan="2">(From "French Poets and Novelists")</td><td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td colspan="4"><span class="smcap"><a href="#INDEX_TO_THE_TEN_VOLUMES">Index To the Ten Volumes</a></span></td> +<td class="tocpg"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VOL. X</h2> + +<h2>AMERICA—II</h2> +<h3>1807-1909</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOW" id="HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOW"></a>HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1807, died in 1882; graduated from Bowdoin in 1825; +traveled in Europe in 1826-29; professor at Bowdoin in +1829-35; again visited Europe in 1835-86; professor at +Harvard in 1836-54; published "Voices of the Night" in 1839, +"Evangeline" in 1847, "Hiawatha" in 1855, "Miles Standish" +in 1858; "Tales of a Wayside Inn" in 1863, a translation of +Dante in 1867-70, "The Divine Tragedy" in 1871, and many +other volumes of verse; his prose writings include +"Outre-Mer," published in 1835, and two novels, "Hyperion," +published in 1839, and "Kavanagh," in 1849.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MUSINGS_IN_PERE_LACHAISE" id="MUSINGS_IN_PERE_LACHAISE"></a>MUSINGS IN PÈRE LACHAISE<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + + +<p>The cemetery of Père Lachaise is the Westminster Abbey of Paris. Both +are the dwellings of the dead; but in one they repose in green alleys +and beneath the open sky—in the other their resting place is in the +shadowy aisle and beneath the dim arches of an ancient abbey. One is a +temple of nature; the other a temple of art. In one the soft +melancholy of the scene is rendered still more touching by the warble +of birds and the shade of trees, and the grave receives the gentle +visit of the sunshine and the shower: in the other no sound but the +passing footfall breaks the silence of the place; the twilight steals +in through high and dusky windows; and the damps of the gloomy vault +lie heavy on the heart, and leave their stain upon the moldering +tracery of the tomb.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> +<p>Père Lachaise stands just beyond the Barrière d'Aulney, on a hillside +looking toward the city. Numerous gravel walks, winding through shady +avenues and between marble monuments, lead up from the principal +entrance to a chapel on the summit. There is hardly a grave that has +not its little enclosure planted with shrubbery, and a thick mass of +foliage half conceals each funeral stone. The sighing of the wind, as +the branches rise and fall upon it—the occasional note of a bird +among the trees, and the shifting of light and shade upon the tombs +beneath have a soothing effect upon the mind; and I doubt whether any +one can enter that enclosure, where repose the dust and ashes of so +many great and good men, without feeling the religion of the place +steal over him, and seeing something of the dark and gloomy expression +pass off from the stern countenance of Death.</p> + +<p>It was near the close of a bright summer afternoon that I visited this +celebrated spot for the first time. The first object that arrested my +attention on entering was a monument in the form of a small Gothic +chapel which stands near the entrance, in the avenue leading to the +right hand. On the marble couch within are stretched two figures, +carved in stone and drest in the antique garb of the Middle Ages. It +is the tomb of Abélard and Héloïse. The history of these two +unfortunate lovers is too well known to need recapitulation; but +perhaps it is not so well known how often their ashes were disturbed +in the slumber of the grave. Abélard died in the monastery of St. +Marcel, and was buried in the vaults of the church. His body was +afterward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> removed to the convent of the Paraclete, at the request of +Héloïse, and at her death her body was deposited in the same tomb. +Three centuries they reposed together; after which they were separated +to different sides of the church, to calm the delicate scruples of the +lady abbess of the convent. More than a century afterward they were +again united in the same tomb; and when at length the Paraclete was +destroyed, their moldering remains were transported to the church of +Nogent-sur-Seine. They were next deposited in an ancient cloister at +Paris, and now repose near the gateway of the cemetery of Père +Lachaise. What a singular destiny was theirs! that, after a life of +such passionate and disastrous love—such sorrows, and tears, and +penitence—their very dust should not be suffered to rest quietly in +the grave!—that their death should so much resemble their life in its +changes and vicissitudes, its partings and its meetings, its +inquietudes and its persecutions!—that mistaken zeal should follow +them down to the very tomb—as if earthly passion could glimmer, like +a funeral lamp, amid the damps of the charnel house, and "even in +their ashes burn their wonted fires"!</p> + +<p>As I gazed on the sculptured forms before me, and the little chapel +whose Gothic roof seemed to protect their marble sleep, my busy memory +swung back the dark portals of the past, and the picture of their sad +and eventful lives came up before me in the gloomy distance. What a +lesson for those who are endowed with the fatal gift of genius! It +would seem, indeed, that He who "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb" +tempers also His chastisements to the errors and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> infirmities of a +weak and simple mind—while the transgressions of him upon whose +nature are more strongly marked the intellectual attributes of the +Deity are followed, even upon earth, by severer tokens of the Divine +displeasure. He who sins in the darkness of a benighted intellect sees +not so clearly, through the shadows that surround him, the countenance +of an offended God; but he who sins in the broad noonday of a clear +and radiant mind, when at length the delirium of sensual passion has +subsided and the cloud flits away from before the sun, trembles +beneath the searching eye of that accusing Power which is strong in +the strength of a godlike intellect. Thus the mind and the heart are +closely linked together, and the errors of genius bear with them their +own chastisement, even upon earth. The history of Abélard and Héloïse +is an illustration of this truth. But at length they sleep well. Their +lives are like a tale that is told; their errors are "folded up like a +book"; and what mortal hand shall break the seal that death has set +upon them?</p> + +<p>Leaving this interesting tomb behind me, I took a pathway to the left, +which conducted me up the hillside. I soon found myself in the deep +shade of heavy foliage, where the branches of the yew and willow +mingled, interwoven with the tendrils and blossoms of the honeysuckle. +I now stood in the most populous part of this city of tombs. Every +step awakened a new train of thrilling recollections, for at every +step my eye caught the name of some one whose glory had exalted the +character of his native land and resounded across the waters of the +Atlantic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> Philosophers, historians, musicians, warriors, and poets +slept side by side around me; some beneath the gorgeous monument, and +some beneath the simple headstone. But the political intrigue, the +dream of science, the historical research, the ravishing harmony of +sound, the tried courage, the inspiration of the lyre—where are they? +With the living, and not with the dead! The right hand has lost its +cunning in the grave; but the soul, whose high volitions it obeyed, +still lives to reproduce itself in ages yet to come.</p> + +<p>Amid these graves of genius I observed here and there a splendid +monument, which had been raised by the pride of family over the dust +of men who could lay no claim either to the gratitude or remembrance +of posterity. Their presence seemed like an intrusion into the +sanctuary of genius. What had wealth to do there? Why should it crowd +the dust of the great? That was no thoroughfare of business—no mart +of gain! There were no costly banquets there; no silken garments, nor +gaudy liveries, nor obsequious attendants! "What servants," says +Jeremy Taylor, "shall we have to wait upon us in the grave? what +friends to visit us? what officious people to cleanse away the moist +and unwholesome cloud reflected upon our faces from the sides of the +weeping vaults, which are the longest weepers for our funerals?" +Material wealth gives a factitious superiority to the living, but the +treasures of intellect give a real superiority to the dead; and the +rich man, who would not deign to walk the street with the starving and +penniless man of genius, deems it an honor, when death has redeemed +the fame of the neg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>lected, to have his ashes laid beside him, and to +claim with him the silent companionship of the grave.</p> + +<p>I continued my walk through the numerous winding paths, as chance or +curiosity directed me. Now I was lost in a little green hollow +overhung with thick-leaved shrubbery, and then came out upon an +elevation, from which, through an opening in the trees, the eye caught +glimpses of the city, and the little esplanade at the foot of the hill +where the poor lie buried. There poverty hires its grave and takes but +a short lease of the narrow house. At the end of a few months, or at +most of a few years, the tenant is dislodged to give place to another, +and he in turn to a third. "Who," says Sir Thomas Browne, "knows the +fate of his bones, or how often he is to be buried? Who hath the +oracle of his ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?"</p> + +<p>Yet even in that neglected corner the hand of affection had been busy +in decorating the hired house. Most of the graves were surrounded with +a slight wooden paling, to secure them from the passing footstep; +there was hardly one so deserted as not to be marked with its little +wooden cross and decorated with a garland of flowers; and here and +there I could perceive a solitary mourner, clothed in black, stooping +to plant a shrub on the grave, or sitting in motionless sorrow beside +it.</p> + +<p>As I passed on amid the shadowy avenues of the cemetery, I could not +help comparing my own impressions with those which others have felt +when walking alone among the dwellings of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> dead. Are, then, the +sculptured urn and storied monument nothing more than symbols of +family pride? Is all I see around me a memorial of the living more +than of the dead, an empty show of sorrow, which thus vaunts itself in +mournful pageant and funeral parade? Is it indeed true, as some have +said, that the simple wild flower which springs spontaneously upon the +grave, and the rose which the hand of affection plants there, are +fitter objects wherewith to adorn the narrow house? No! I feel that it +is not so! Let the good and the great be honored even in the grave. +Let the sculptured marble direct our footsteps to the scene of their +long sleep; let the chiseled epitaph repeat their names, and tell us +where repose the nobly good and wise! It is not true that all are +equal in the grave. There is no equality even there. The mere handful +of dust and ashes, the mere distinction of prince and beggar, of a +rich winding sheet and a shroudless burial, of a solitary grave and a +family vault—were this all, then, indeed it would be true that death +is a common leveler. Such paltry distinctions as those of wealth and +poverty are soon leveled by the spade and mattock; the damp breath of +the grave blots them out forever. But there are other distinctions +which even the mace of death can not level or obliterate. Can it break +down the distinction of virtue and vice? Can it confound the good with +the bad? the noble with the base? all that is truly great, and pure, +and godlike, with all that is scorned, and sinful, and degraded? No! +Then death is not a common leveler!...</p> + +<p>Before I left the graveyard the shades of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> evening had fallen, and the +objects around me grown dim and indistinct. As I passed the gateway, I +turned to take a parting look. I could distinguish only the chapel on +the summit of the hill, and here and there a lofty obelisk of +snow-white marble, rising from the black and heavy mass of foliage +around, and pointing upward to the gleam of the departed sun, that +still lingered in the sky, and mingled with the soft starlight of a +summer evening.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> From "Outre-Mer."</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="EDGAR_ALLAN_POE" id="EDGAR_ALLAN_POE"></a>EDGAR ALLAN POE</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1809, died in 1849; his father and mother actors; +adopted by John Allan of Richmond after his mother's death; +educated in Richmond, in England, at the University of +Virginia, and at West Point; published "Tamerlane" in 1827; +settled in Baltimore and devoted himself to literature; +editor of several magazines 1835-44; published "The Raven" +in 1845, "Al Aaraaf" in 1829, "Tales of the Grotesque and +Arabesque" in 1840.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_CASK_OF_AMONTILLADO" id="THE_CASK_OF_AMONTILLADO"></a>THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2> + +<p>It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the +carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with +excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. +He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was +surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him +that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand.</p> + +<p>I said to him: "My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkable +well you are looking to-day! But I have received a pipe of what passes +for Amontillado, and I have my doubts."</p> + +<p>"How?" said he. "Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of +the carnival!"</p> + +<p>"I have my doubts," I replied; "and I was silly enough to pay the full +Amontillado price <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>without consulting you in the matter. You were not +to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain."</p> + +<p>"Amontillado!"</p> + +<p>"I have my doubts—"</p> + +<p>"Amontillado!"</p> + +<p>"And I must satisfy them."</p> + +<p>"Amontillado!"</p> + +<p>"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If any one has a +critical turn, it is he. He will tell me—"</p> + +<p>"Luchesi can not tell Amontillado from Sherry."</p> + +<p>"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your +own."</p> + +<p>"Come, let us go."</p> + +<p>"Whither?"</p> + +<p>"To your vaults."</p> + +<p>"My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive +you have an engagement. Luchesi—"</p> + +<p>"I have no engagement; come."</p> + +<p>"My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with +which I perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. +They are encrusted with niter."</p> + +<p>"Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You +have been imposed upon. And as for Luchesi, he can not distinguish +Sherry from Amontillado."</p> + +<p>Thus speaking, Fortunato possest himself of my arm. Putting on a mask +of black silk, and drawing a <i>roquelaure</i> closely about my person, I +suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.</p> + +<p>There were no attendants at home; they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> absconded to make merry in +honor of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the +morning, and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the +house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their +immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned.</p> + +<p>I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, +bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into +the vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him +to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the +descent, and stood together on the damp ground of the catacombs of the +Montresors.</p> + +<p>The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled +as he strode.</p> + +<p>"The pipe," said he.</p> + +<p>"It is farther on," said I; "but observe the white web-work which +gleams from these cavern walls."</p> + +<p>He turned toward me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that +distilled the rheum of intoxication.</p> + +<p>"Niter?" he asked, at length.</p> + +<p>"Niter," I replied. "How long have you had that cough?"</p> + +<p>"Ugh! ugh! ugh—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! +ugh! ugh!"</p> + +<p>My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," he said, at last.</p> + +<p>"Come," I said, with decision, "we will go back; your health is +precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, +as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We +will go back; you will be ill, and I can not be responsible. Besides, +there is Luchesi—"</p> + +<p>"Enough," he said; "the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. +I shall not die."</p> + +<p>"True—true," I replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming +you unnecessarily—but you should use all proper caution. A draft of +this Medoc will defend us from the damps."</p> + +<p>Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row +of its fellows that lay upon the mold.</p> + +<p>"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine.</p> + +<p>He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me +familiarly, while his bells jingled.</p> + +<p>"I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us."</p> + +<p>"And I to your long life."</p> + +<p>He again took my arm, and we proceeded.</p> + +<p>"These vaults," he said, "are extensive."</p> + +<p>"The Montresors," I replied, "were a great and numerous family."</p> + +<p>"I forget your arms."</p> + +<p>"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent +rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel."</p> + +<p>"And the motto?"</p> + +<p><i>"Nemo me impune lacessit."</i></p> + +<p>"Good!" he said.</p> + +<p>The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew +warm with the Medoc. We had passed through walls of piled bones, with +casks and puncheons intermingling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> into the inmost recesses of the +catacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize +Fortunato by an arm above the elbow.</p> + +<p>"The niter!" I said; "see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the +vaults. We are below the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickle +among the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your +cough—"</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," he said; "let us go on. But first, another draft of +the Medoc."</p> + +<p>I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it at a +breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the +bottle upward with a gesticulation I did not understand.</p> + +<p>I looked at him in surprize. He repeated the movement—a grotesque +one.</p> + +<p>"You do not comprehend!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Not I," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Then you are not of the brotherhood."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"You are not of the masons."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," I said, "yes, yes."</p> + +<p>"You? Impossible! A mason?"</p> + +<p>"A mason," I replied.</p> + +<p>"A sign," he said.</p> + +<p>"It is this," I answered, producing a trowel from beneath the folds of +my <i>roquelaure</i>.</p> + +<p>"You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. "But let us proceed +to the Amontillado."</p> + +<p>"Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak, and again +offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route +in search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches, +descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, +in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow +than flame.</p> + +<p>At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less +spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the +vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three +sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. +From the fourth the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously +upon the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the +walls thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a +still interior recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in +height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no special +use within itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the +colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one +of their circumscribing walls of solid granite.</p> + +<p>It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavored to +pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did +not enable us to see.</p> + +<p>"Proceed," I said, "herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchesi—"</p> + +<p>"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stept unsteadily +forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In an instant he +had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress +arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more and I +had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, +distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of +these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>ing the +links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure +it. He was too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stept +back from the recess.</p> + +<p>"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you can not help feeling the +niter. Indeed it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. +No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all +the little attentions in my power."</p> + +<p>"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"True," I replied; "the Amontillado."</p> + +<p>As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which +I have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity +of building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of +my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche.</p> + +<p>I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered +that the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. +The earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the +depth of the recess. It was <i>not</i> the cry of a drunken man. There was +then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the +third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the +chain. The noise lasted for several minutes, during which, that I +might harken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labors and +sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed +the trowel, and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, +and the seventh tier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, +threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within.</p> + +<p>A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the +throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a +brief moment I hesitated—I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began +to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant +reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, +and felt satisfied. I reapproached the wall. I replied to the yells of +him who clamored. I reechoed—I aided—I surpassed them in volume and +in strength. I did this, and the clamorer grew still.</p> + +<p>It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had +completed the eighth, the ninth, and the tenth tier. I had finished a +portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single +stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I +placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from +out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was +succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as +that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said:</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha!—he! he!—a very good joke—indeed—an excellent jest. We +will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo—he! he! he!—over +our wine—he! he! he!"</p> + +<p>"The Amontillado!" I said.</p> + +<p>"He! he! he!—he! he! he!—yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting +late? Will they not be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato +and the rest? Let us be gone."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "let us be gone."</p> + +<p>"For the love of God, Montresor!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!"</p> + +<p>But to these words I harkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I +called aloud: "Fortunato!"</p> + +<p>No answer. I called again: "Fortunato!"</p> + +<p>No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and +let it fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of the +bells. My heart grew sick—on account of the dampness of the +catacombs. I hastened to make an end of my labor. I forced the last +stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I +reerected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no +mortal has disturbed them. <i>In pace requiescat!</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="OF_HAWTHORNE_AND_THE_SHORT_STORY" id="OF_HAWTHORNE_AND_THE_SHORT_STORY"></a>OF HAWTHORNE AND THE SHORT STORY<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h2> + + +<p>The reputation of the author of "Twice-Told Tales" has been confined, +until very lately, to literary society; and I have not been wrong, +perhaps, in citing him as the example, par excellence, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>in this +country, of the privately admired and publicly-unappreciated man of +genius. Within the last year or two, it is true, an occasional critic +has been urged, by honest indignation, into very warm approval. Mr. +Webber,<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> for instance (than whom no one has a keener relish for that +kind of writing which Mr. Hawthorne has best illustrated), gave us, in +a late number of <i>The American Review</i>, a cordial and certainly a full +tribute to his talents; and since the issue of the "Mosses from an Old +Manse" criticisms of similar tone have been by no means infrequent in +our more authoritative journals. I can call to mind few reviews of +Hawthorne published before the "Mosses." One I remember in <i>Arcturus</i> +(edited by Matthews and Duyckinck<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>) for May, 1841; another in the +<i>American Monthly</i> (edited by Hoffman<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> and Herbert) for March, 1838; +a third in the ninety-sixth number of <i>The North American Review</i>. +These criticisms, however, seemed to have little effect on the popular +taste—at least, if we are to form any idea of the popular taste by +reference to its expression in the newspapers, or by the sale of the +author's book. It was never the fashion (until lately) <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>to speak of +him in any summary of our best authors....</p> + +<p>Beyond doubt, this inappreciation of him on the part of the public +arose chiefly from the two causes to which I have referred—from the +facts that he is neither a man of wealth nor a quack; but these are +insufficient to account for the whole effect. No small portion of it +is attributable to the very marked idiosyncrasy of Mr. Hawthorne +himself. In one sense, and in great measure, to be peculiar is to be +original, and than the true originality there is no higher literary +virtue. This true or commendable originality, however, implies not the +uniform, but the continuous peculiarity—a peculiarity springing from +ever-active vigor of fancy—better still if from ever-present force of +imagination, giving its own hue, its own character to everything it +touches, and, especially, self-impelled to touch everything....</p> + +<p>The pieces in the volumes entitled "Twice-Told Tales" are now in their +third republication, and, of course, are thrice-told. Moreover, they +are by no means all tales, either in the ordinary or in the legitimate +understanding of the term. Many of them are pure essays. Of the Essays +I must be content to speak in brief. They are each and all beautiful, +without being characterized by the polish and adaptation so visible in +the tales proper. A painter would at once note their leading or +predominant feature, and style it repose. There is no attempt at +effect. All is quiet, thoughtful, subdued. Yet this repose may exist +simultaneously with high originality of thought; and Mr. Hawthorne has +demonstrated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> the fact. At every turn we meet with novel combinations; +yet these combinations never surpass the limits of the quiet. We are +soothed as we read; and withal is a calm astonishment that ideas so +apparently obvious have never occurred or been presented to us before. +Herein our author differs materially from Lamb or Hunt or +Hazlitt—who, with vivid originality of manner and expression, have +less of the true novelty of thought than is generally supposed, and +whose originality, at best, has an uneasy and meretricious quaintness, +replete with startling effects unfounded in nature, and inducing +trains of reflection which lead to no satisfactory result. The essays +of Hawthorne have much of the character of Irving, with more of +originality, and less of finish; while, compared with the <i>Spectator</i>, +they have a vast superiority at all points. The Spectator, Mr. Irving +and Hawthorne have in common that tranquil and subdued manner which I +have chosen to denominate repose; but, in the ease of the two former, +this repose is attained rather by the absence of novel combination, or +of originality, than otherwise, and consists chiefly in the calm, +quiet, unostentatious expression of commonplace thoughts, in an +unambitious, unadulterated Saxon. In them, by strong effort, we are +made to conceive the absence of all. In the essays before me the +absence of effort is too obvious to be mistaken, and a strong +undercurrent of suggestion runs continuously beneath the upper stream +of the tranquil thesis. In short, these effusions of Mr. Hawthorne are +the product of a truly imaginative intellect, restrained, and in some +measure represt by fastidiousness of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> taste, by constitutional +melancholy, and by indolence.</p> + +<p>But it is of his tales that I desire principally to speak. The tale +proper, in my opinion, affords unquestionably the fairest field for +the exercise of the loftiest talent which can be afforded by the wide +domains of mere prose. Were I bidden to say how the highest genius +could be most advantageously employed for the best display of its own +powers, I should answer, without hesitation—in the composition of a +rimed poem, not to exceed in length what might be perused in an hour. +Within this limit alone can the highest order of true poetry exist. I +need only here say, upon this topic, that, in almost all classes of +composition, the unity of effect or impression is a point of the +greatest importance. It is clear, moreover, that this unity can not be +thoroughly preserved in productions whose perusal can not be completed +at one sitting. We may continue the reading of a prose composition, +from the very nature of prose itself, much longer than we can +persevere, to any good purpose, in the perusal of a poem. This latter, +if truly fulfilling the demands of the poetic sentiment, induces an +exaltation of the soul which can not be long sustained. All high +excitements are necessarily transient. Thus a long poem is a paradox. +And, without unity of impression, the deepest effects can not be +brought about. Epics were the offspring of an imperfect sense of art, +and their reign is no more. A poem too brief may produce a vivid, but +never an intense or enduring impression. Without a certain continuity +of effort—without a certain duration or repetition of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> purpose—the +soul is never deeply moved. There must be the dropping of the water +upon the rock. De Béranger has wrought brilliant things—pungent and +spirit-stirring—but, like all impassive bodies, they lack momentum, +and thus fail to satisfy the poetic sentiment. They sparkle and +excite, but, from want of continuity, fail deeply to impress. Extreme +brevity will degenerate into epigrammatism; but the sin of extreme +length is even more unpardonable. <i>In medio tutissimus ibis.</i> Were I +called upon, however, to designate that class of composition which, +next to such a poem as I have suggested, should best fulfil the +demands of high genius—should offer it the most advantageous field of +exertion—I should unhesitatingly speak of the prose tale, as Mr. +Hawthorne has here exemplified it. I allude to the short prose +narrative, requiring from a half-hour to one or two hours in its +perusal.</p> + +<p>Of Mr. Hawthorne's "Tales" we would say, emphatically that they belong +to the highest region of art—an art subservient to genius of a very +lofty order.... We know of few compositions which the critic can more +honestly commend than these "Twice-Told Tales." As Americans, we feel +proud of the book.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hawthorne's distinctive trait is invention, creation, imagination, +originality—a trait which, in the literature of fiction, is +positively worth all the rest. But the nature of the originality, so +far as regards its manifestation in letters, is but imperfectly +understood. The inventive or original mind as frequently displays +itself in novelty of tone as in novelty of matter. Mr. Hawthorne is +original in all points. It would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> be a matter of some difficulty to +designate the best of these tales; we repeat that, without exception, +they are beautiful.</p> + +<p>He has the purest style, the finest taste, the most available +scholarship, the most delicate humor, the most touching pathos, the +most radiant imagination, the most consummate ingenuity; and with +these varied good qualities he has done well as a mystic. But is there +any one of these qualities which should prevent his doing doubly as +well in a career of honest, upright, sensible, prehensible and +comprehensible things? Let him mend his pen, get a bottle of visible +ink, come out from the "Old Manse," cut Mr. Alcott, hang (if possible) +the editor of The Dial, and throw out of the window to the pigs all +his odd numbers of <i>The North American Review</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> +<h2><a name="OF_WILLIS_BRYANT_HALLECK_AND_MACAULAY" id="OF_WILLIS_BRYANT_HALLECK_AND_MACAULAY"></a>OF WILLIS, BRYANT, HALLECK, AND MACAULAY<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h2> + +<p>Whatever may be thought of Mr. Willis's talents, there can be no doubt +about the fact that, both as an author and as a man, he has made a +good deal of noise in the world—at least for an American. His +literary life, in especial, has been one continual emeute; but then +his literary character is modified or impelled in a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>very remarkable +degree by his personal one. His success (for in point of fame, if of +nothing else, he has certainly been successful) is to be attributed +one-third to his mental ability and two-thirds to his physical +temperament—the latter goading him into the accomplishment of what +the former merely gave him the means of accomplishing.... At a very +early age, Mr. Willis seems to have arrived at an understanding that, +in a republic such as ours, the mere man of letters must ever be a +cipher, and endeavored, accordingly, to unite the eclat of the +litterateur with that of the man of fashion or of society. He "pushed +himself," went much into the world, made friends with the gentler sex, +"delivered" poetical addresses, wrote "scriptural" poems, traveled, +sought the intimacy of noted women, and got into quarrels with +notorious men. All these things served his purpose—if, indeed, I am +right in supposing that he had any purpose at all. It is quite +probable that, as before hinted, he acted only in accordance with his +physical temperament; but, be this as it may, his personal greatly +advanced, if it did not altogether establish his literary fame. I have +often carefully considered whether, without the physique of which I +speak, there is that in the absolute morale of Mr. Willis which would +have earned him reputation as a man of letters, and my conclusion is +that he could not have failed to become noted in some degree under +almost any circumstances, but that about two-thirds (as above stated) +of his appreciation by the public should be attributed to those +adventures which grew immediately out of his animal constitution.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Bryant's position in the poetical world is, perhaps, better +settled than that of any American. There is less difference of opinion +about his rank; but, as usual, the agreement is more decided in +private literary circles than in what appears to be the public +expression of sentiment as gleaned from the press. I may as well +observe here, too, that this coincidence of opinion in private circles +is in all cases very noticeable when compared with the discrepancy of +the apparent public opinion. In private it is quite a rare thing to +find any strongly-marked disagreement—I mean, of course, about mere +authorial merit.... It will never do to claim for Bryant a genius of +the loftiest order, but there has been latterly, since the days of Mr. +Longfellow and Mr. Lowell, a growing disposition to deny him genius in +any respect. He is now commonly spoken of as "a man of high poetical +talent, very 'correct,' with a warm appreciation of the beauty of +nature and great descriptive powers, but rather too much of the +old-school manner of Cowper, Goldsmith and Young." This is the truth, +but not the whole truth. Mr. Bryant has genius, and that of a marked +character, but it has been overlooked by modern schools, because +deficient in those externals which have become in a measure symbolical +of those schools.</p> + +<p>The name of Halleck is at least as well established in the poetical +world as that of any American. Our principal poets are, perhaps, most +frequently named in this order—Bryant, Halleck, Dana, Sprague,<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> +Longfellow, Willis, and so on—Halleck <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>coming second in the series, +but holding, in fact, a rank in the public opinion quite equal to that +of Bryant. The accuracy of the arrangement as above made may, indeed, +be questioned. For my own part, I should have it thus—Longfellow, +Bryant, Halleck, Willis, Sprague, Dana; and, estimating rather the +poetic capacity than the poems actually accomplished, there are three +or four comparatively unknown writers whom I would place in the series +between Bryant and Halleck, while there are about a dozen whom I +should assign a position between Willis and Sprague. Two dozen at +least might find room between Sprague and Dana—this latter, I fear, +owing a very large portion of his reputation to his quondam editorial +connection with <i>The North American Review</i>. One or two poets, now in +my mind's eye, I should have no hesitation in posting above even Mr. +Longfellow—still not intending this as very extravagant praise.... +Mr. Halleck, in the apparent public estimate, maintains a somewhat +better position than that to which, on absolute grounds, he is +entitled. There is something, too, in the bonhomie of certain of his +compositions—something altogether distinct from poetic merit—which +has aided to establish him; and much also must be admitted on the +score of his personal popularity, which is deservedly great. With all +these allowances, however, there will still be found a large amount of +poetical fame to which he is fairly entitled.... Personally he is a +man to be admired, respected, but more especially beloved. His address +has all the captivating bonhomie which is the leading feature of his +poetry, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> indeed, of his whole moral nature. With his friends he +is all ardor, enthusiasm and cordiality, but to the world at large he +is reserved, shunning society, into which he is seduced only with +difficulty, and upon rare occasions. The love of solitude seems to +have become with him a passion.</p> + +<p>Macaulay has obtained a reputation which, altho deservedly great, is +yet in a remarkable measure undeserved. The few who regard him merely +as a terse, forcible and logical writer, full of thought, and +abounding in original views, often sagacious and never otherwise than +admirably exprest—appear to us precisely in the right. The many who +look upon him as not only all this, but as a comprehensive and +profound thinker, little prone to error, err essentially themselves. +The source of the general mistake lies in a very singular +consideration—yet in one upon which we do not remember ever to have +heard a word of comment. We allude to a tendency in the public mind +toward logic for logic's sake—a liability to confound the vehicle +with the conveyed—an aptitude to be so dazzled by the luminousness +with which an idea is set forth as to mistake it for the luminousness +of the idea itself. The error is one exactly analogous with that which +leads the immature poet to think himself sublime wherever he is +obscure, because obscurity is a source of the sublime—thus +confounding obscurity of expression with the expression of obscurity. +In the case of Macaulay—and we may say, <i>en passant</i>, of our own +Channing—we assent to what he says too often because we so very +clearly understand what it is that he intends to say. Comprehending +vividly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> the points and the sequence of his argument, we fancy that we +are concurring in the argument itself. It is not every mind which is +at once able to analyze the satisfaction it receives from such essays +as we see here. If it were merely beauty of style for which they were +distinguished—if they were remarkable only for rhetorical +flourishes—we would not be apt to estimate these flourishes at more +than their due value. We would not agree with the doctrines of the +essayist on account of the elegance with which they were urged. On the +contrary, we would be inclined to disbelief. But when all ornament +save that of simplicity is disclaimed—when we are attacked by +precision of language, by perfect accuracy of expression, by +directness and singleness of thought, and above all by a logic the +most rigorously close and consequential—it is hardly a matter for +wonder that nine of us out of ten are content to rest in the +gratification thus received as in the gratification of absolute +truth.</p> +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Published in <i>Godey's Magazine</i> in 1846.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> From a review of Hawthorne's "Twice Told Tales" and +"Mosses from an Old Manse," published in <i>Godey's Magazine</i> in 1846. +Except for an earlier notice by Longfellow in <i>The North American +Review</i>, this was the first notable recognition Hawthorne's stories +received from a contemporary critic.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Charles Wilkens Webber, magazine writer and author of a +dozen books now forgotten, was a native of Kentucky who settled in New +York. In 1855 he joined William Walker in his filibustering expedition +to Central America, and was killed in the battle of Rivas.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Evert A. Duyckinck, joint editor with his brother of the +"Cyclopedia of American Literature."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Charles Fenno Hoffman, poet, novelist, and critic, was +related to Mathilda Hoffman, the sweetheart of Washington Irving.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Passages selected from articles now printed in Volume II +of the "Works of Poe," as published in New York in 1876.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Charles Sprague, born in Boston in 1791, was known in his +own day as "the American Pope."</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="OLIVER_WENDELL_HOLMES" id="OLIVER_WENDELL_HOLMES"></a>OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1809, died in 1894; professor in the Medical School +of Harvard in 1847-82; wrote for the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i> "The +Autocrat of the Breakfast Table" in 1857-58, "The Professor +at the Breakfast Table" in 1859, "The Poet at the Breakfast +Table" in 1872; published "Elsie Venner" in 1861, "The +Guardian Angel" in 1868, "A Mortal Antipathy" in 1885; a +collection of verse entitled "Songs in Many Keys" in 1861, +"Humorous Poems" in 1865, "Songs of Many Seasons," in 1874, +"Before the Curfew" in 1888; also wrote volumes of essays +and memoirs of Emerson and Motley.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="OF_DOCTORS_LAWYERS_AND_MINISTERS" id="OF_DOCTORS_LAWYERS_AND_MINISTERS"></a>OF DOCTORS, LAWYERS, AND MINISTERS<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h2> + +<p>"What is your general estimate of doctors, lawyers, and ministers?" +said I.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, till I have got through with your first question," +said the Master. "One thing at a time. You asked me about the young +doctors, and about our young doctors, they come home <i>très bien +chaussés</i>, as a Frenchman would say, mighty well shod with +professional knowledge. But when they begin walking round among their +poor patients—they don't commonly start with millionaires—they find +that their new shoes <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>of scientific acquirements have got to be broken +in just like a pair of boots or brogans. I don't know that I have put +it quite strong enough. Let me try again. You've seen those fellows at +the circus that get up on horseback, so big that you wonder how they +could climb into the saddle. But pretty soon they throw off their +outside coat, and the next minute another one, and then the one under +that, and so they keep peeling off one garment after another till +people begin to look queer and think they are going too far for strict +propriety. Well, that is the way a fellow with a real practical turn +serves a good many of his scientific wrappers—flings 'em off for +other people to pick up, and goes right at the work of curing +stomach-aches and all the other little mean unscientific complaints +that make up the larger part of every doctor's business. I think our +Dr. Benjamin is a worthy young man, and if you are in need of a doctor +at any time I hope you will go to him; and if you come off without +harm, I will—recommend some other friend to try him."</p> + +<p>I thought he was going to say he would try him in his own person; but +the Master is not fond of committing himself.</p> + +<p>"Now I will answer your other question," he said. "The lawyers are the +cleverest men, the ministers are the most learned, and the doctors are +the most sensible."</p> + +<p>"The lawyers are a picked lot, 'first scholars,' and the like, but +their business is as unsympathetic as Jack Ketch's. There is nothing +humanizing in their relations with their fellow creatures. They go for +the side that retains<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> them. They defend the man they know to be a +rogue, and not very rarely throw suspicion on the man they know to be +innocent. Mind you, I am not finding fault with them—every side of a +case has a right to the best statement it admits of; but I say it does +not tend to make them sympathetic. Suppose in a case of Fever <i>vs.</i> +Patient, the doctor should side with either party according to whether +the old miser or his expectant heir was his employer. Suppose the +minister should side with the Lord or the devil, according to the +salary offered, and other incidental advantages, where the soul of a +sinner was in question. You can see what a piece of work it would make +of their sympathies. But the lawyers are quicker witted than either of +the other professions, and abler men generally. They are good-natured, +or if they quarrel, their quarrels are above-board. I don't think they +are as accomplished as the ministers; but they have a way of cramming +with special knowledge for a case, which leaves a certain shallow +sediment of intelligence in their memories about a good many things. +They are apt to talk law in mixt company; and they have a way of +looking round when they make a point, as if they were addressing a +jury, that is mighty aggravating—as I once had occasion to see when +one of 'em, and a pretty famous one, put me on the witness stand at a +dinner party once.</p> + +<p>"The ministers come next in point of talent. They are far more curious +and widely interested outside of their own calling than either of the +other professions. I like to talk with 'em. They are interesting men: +full of good feelings, hard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> workers, always foremost in good deeds, +and on the whole the most efficient civilizing class—working downward +from knowledge to ignorance, that is; not so much upward, +perhaps—that we have. The trouble is that so many of 'em work in +harness, and it is pretty sure to chafe somewhere. They feed us on +canned meats mostly. They cripple our instincts and reason, and give +us a crutch of doctrine. I have talked with a great many of 'em, of +all sorts of belief; and I don't think they are quite so easy in their +minds, the greater number of them, nor so clear in their convictions +as one would think to hear 'em lay down the law in the pulpit. They +used to lead the intelligence of their parishes; now they do pretty +well if they keep up with it, and they are very apt to lag behind it. +Then they must have a colleague. The old minister thinks he can hold +to his old course, sailing right into the wind's eye of human nature, +as straight as that famous old skipper John Bunyan; the young minister +falls off three or four points, and catches the breeze that left the +old man's sails all shivering. By-and-by the congregation will get +ahead of him, and then it must have another new skipper. The priest +holds his own pretty well; the minister is coming down every +generation nearer and nearer to the common level of the useful +citizen—no oracle at all, but a man of more than average moral +instincts, who, if he knows anything, knows how little he knows. The +ministers are good talkers, only the struggle between nature and grace +makes some of 'em a little awkward occasionally. The women do their +best to spoil 'em, as they do the poets. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> find it pleasant to be +spoiled, no doubt; so do they. Now and then one of 'em goes over the +dam; no wonder—they're always in the rapids."</p> + +<p>By this time our three ladies had their faces all turned toward the +speaker, like the weathercocks in a northeaster, and I thought it best +to switch off the talk on to another rail.</p> + +<p>"How about the doctors?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Theirs is the least learned of the professions, in this country at +least. They have not half the general culture of the lawyers, nor a +quarter of that of the ministers. I rather think, tho, they are more +agreeable to the common run of people than the men with the black +coats or the men with green bags. People can swear before 'em if they +want to, and they can't very well before ministers. I don't care +whether they want to swear or not, they don't want to be on their good +behavior. Besides, the minister has a little smack of the sexton about +him; he comes when people are <i>in extremis</i>, but they don't send for +him every time they make a slight moral slip—tell a lie, for +instance, or smuggle a silk dress through the custom-house: but they +call in the doctor when the child is cutting a tooth or gets a +splinter in its finger. So it doesn't mean much to send for him, only +a pleasant chat about the news of the day; for putting the baby to +rights doesn't take long. Besides, everybody doesn't like to talk +about the next world; people are modest in their desires, and find +this world as good as they deserve: but everybody loves to talk +physic. Everybody loves to hear of strange cases; people are eager to +tell the doctor of the wonderful cures they have heard of; they want<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +to know what is the matter with somebody or other who is said to be +suffering from "a complication of diseases," and above all to get a +hard name, Greek or Latin, for some complaint which sounds altogether +too commonplace in plain English. If you will only call a headache a +<i>Cephalalgia</i>, it acquires dignity at once, and a patient becomes +rather proud of it. So I think doctors are generally welcome in most +companies."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="OF_THE_GENIUS_OF_EMERSON" id="OF_THE_GENIUS_OF_EMERSON"></a>OF THE GENIUS OF EMERSON<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h2> + +<p>Emerson's was an Asiatic mind, drawing its sustenance partly from the +hard soil of our New England, partly, too, from the air that has known +Himalaya and the Ganges. So imprest with this character of his mind +was Mr. Burlingame,<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> as I saw him, after his return from his +mission, that he said to me, in a freshet of hyperbole, which was the +overflow of a channel with a thread of truth running in it, "There are +twenty thousand Ralph Waldo Emersons in China."</p> + +<p>What could we do with this unexpected, unprovided for, unclassified, +half-unwelcome new-comer, who had been for a while potted, as it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>were, in our Unitarian cold green-house, but had taken to growing so +fast that he was lifting off its glass roof and letting in the +hailstorms? Here was a protest that outflanked the extreme left of +liberalism, yet so calm and serene that its radicalism had the accents +of the gospel of peace. Here was an iconoclast without a hammer, who +took down our idols from their pedestals so tenderly that it seemed +like an act of worship.</p> + +<p>The scribes and pharisees made light of his oracular sayings. The +lawyers could not find the witnesses to subpœna and the documents +to refer to when his case came before them, and turned him over to +their wives and daughters. The ministers denounced his heresies, and +handled his writings as if they were packages of dynamite, and the +grandmothers were as much afraid of his new teachings as old Mrs. +Piozzi<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> was of geology. We had had revolutionary orators, +reformers, martyrs; it was but a few years since Abner Kneeland had +been sent to jail for expressing an opinion about the great First +Cause; but we had had nothing like this man, with his seraphic voice +and countenance, his choice vocabulary, his refined utterance, his +gentle courage, which, with a different manner, might have been called +audacity, his temperate statement of opinions which threatened to +shake the existing order of thought like an earthquake.</p> + +<p>His peculiarities of style and of thinking became <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>fertile parents of +mannerisms, which were fair game for ridicule as they appeared in his +imitators. For one who talks like Emerson or like Carlyle soon finds +himself surrounded by a crowd of walking phonographs, who mechanically +reproduce his mental and vocal accents. Emerson was before long +talking in the midst of a babbling Simonetta of echoes, and not +unnaturally was now and then himself a mark for the small-shot of +criticism. He had soon reached that height in the "cold thin +atmosphere" of thought where</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Vainly the fowler's eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might mark his distant flight to do him wrong."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I shall add a few words, of necessity almost epigrammatic, upon his +work and character. He dealt with life, and life with him was not +merely this particular air-breathing phase of being, but the spiritual +existence which included it like a parenthesis between the two +infinities. He wanted his daily drafts of oxygen like his neighbors, +and was as thoroughly human as the plain people he mentions who had +successively owned or thought they owned the house-lot on which he +planted his hearthstone. But he was at home no less in the +interstellar spaces outside of all the atmospheres. The +semi-materialistic idealism of Milton was a gross and clumsy medium +compared to the imponderable ether of "The Over-soul" and the +unimaginable vacuum of "Brahma." He followed in the shining and daring +track of the <i>Graius homo</i> of Lucretius:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>"Vivida vis animi pervicit, et extra</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Processit longe flammantia mœnia mundi."</i><br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>It always seemed to me as if he looked at this earth very much as a +visitor from another planet would look upon it. He was interested, and +to some extent curious about it, but it was not the first spheroid he +had been acquainted with, by any means. I have amused myself with +comparing his descriptions of natural objects with those of the Angel +Raphael in the seventh book of Paradise Lost. Emerson talks of his +titmouse as Raphael talks of his emmet. Angels and poets never deal +with nature after the manner of those whom we call naturalists.</p> + +<p>To judge of him as a thinker, Emerson should have been heard as a +lecturer, for his manner was an illustration of his way of thinking. +He would lose his place just as his mind would drop its thought and +pick up another, twentieth cousin or no relation at all to it. This +went so far at times that one could hardly tell whether he was putting +together a mosaic of colored fragments, or only turning a kaleidoscope +where the pieces tumbled about as they best might. It was as if he had +been looking in at a cosmic peep-show, and turning from it at brief +intervals to tell us what he saw. But what fragments these colored +sentences were, and what pictures they often placed before us, as if +we too saw them! Never has this city known such audiences as he +gathered; never was such an Olympian entertainment as that which he +gave them.</p> + +<p>It is very hard to speak of Mr. Emerson's poetry; not to do it +injustice, still more to do it justice. It seems to me like the robe +of a monarch patched by a New England housewife. The royal tint and +stuff are unmistakable, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> here and there the gray worsted from the +darning-needle crosses and ekes out the Tyrian purple. Few poets who +have written so little in verse have dropped so many of those "jewels +five words long" which fall from their setting only to be more +choicely treasured. <i>E pluribus unum</i> is scarcely more familiar to our +ears than "He builded better than he knew," and Keats's "thing of +beauty" is little better known than Emerson's "beauty is its own +excuse for being." One may not like to read Emerson's poetry because +it is sometimes careless, almost as if carefully so, tho never +undignified even when slipshod; spotted with quaint archaisms and +strange expressions that sound like the affectation of negligence, or +with plain, homely phrases such as the self-made scholar is always +afraid of. But if one likes Emerson's poetry he will be sure to love +it; if he loves it, its phrases will cling to him as hardly any others +do. It may not be for the multitude, but it finds its place like +pollen-dust and penetrates to the consciousness it is to fertilize and +bring to flower and fruit.</p> + +<p>I have known something of Emerson as a talker, not nearly so much as +many others who can speak and write of him. It is unsafe to tell how a +great thinker talks, for perhaps, like a city dealer with a village +customer, he has not shown his best goods to the innocent reporter of +his sayings. However that may be in this case, let me contrast in a +single glance the momentary effect in conversation of the two +neighbors, Hawthorne and Emerson. Speech seemed like a kind of travail +to Hawthorne. One must harpoon him like a cetacean with questions to +make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> him talk at all. Then the words came from him at last, with +bashful manifestations, like those of a young girl, almost—words that +gasped themselves forth, seeming to leave a great deal more behind +them than they told, and died out discontented with themselves, like +the monologue of thunder in the sky, which always goes off mumbling +and grumbling as if it had not said half it wanted to, and ought to +say....</p> + +<p>To sum up briefly what would, as it seems to me, be the text to be +unfolded in his biography, he was a man of excellent common sense, +with a genius so uncommon that he seemed like an exotic transplanted +from some angelic nursery. His character was so blameless, so +beautiful, that it was rather a standard to judge others by than to +find a place for on the scale of comparison. Looking at life with the +profoundest sense of its infinite significance, he was yet a cheerful +optimist, almost too hopeful, peeping into every cradle to see if it +did not hold a babe with the halo of a new Messiah about it. He +enriched the treasure-house of literature, but, what was far more, he +enlarged the boundaries of thought for the few that followed him, and +the many who never knew, and do not know to-day, what hand it was +which took down their prison walls. He was a preacher who taught that +the religion of humanity included both those of Palestine, nor those +alone, and taught it with such consecrated lips that the narrowest +bigot was ashamed to pray for him, as from a footstool nearer to the +throne. "Hitch your wagon to a star": this was his version of the +divine lesson taught by that holy George Herbert whose words he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +loved. Give him whatever place belongs to him in our literature, in +the literature of our language, of the world, but remember this: the +end and aim of his being was to make truth lovely and manhood +valorous, and to bring our daily life nearer and nearer to the +eternal, immortal, invisible.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_HOUSE_IN_WHICH_THE_PROFESSOR_LIVED" id="THE_HOUSE_IN_WHICH_THE_PROFESSOR_LIVED"></a>THE HOUSE IN WHICH THE PROFESSOR LIVED<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></h2> + +<p>"This is the shortest way," she said, as we came to a corner.</p> + +<p>"Then we won't take it," said I. The schoolmistress laughed a little, +and said she was ten minutes early, so she could go around.</p> + +<p>We walked around Mr. Paddock's row of English elms. The gray squirrels +were out looking for their breakfasts, and one of them came toward us +in light, soft, intermittent leaps, until he was close to the rail of +the burial ground. He was on a grave with a broad blue slate-stone at +its head, and a shrub growing on it. The stone said this was the grave +of a young man who was the son of an honorable gentleman, and who died +a hundred years ago and more. Oh, yes, died—with a small triangular +mark in one breast, and another smaller opposite, in his back, where +another young man's rapier had slid through <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>his body; and so he lay +down out there on the Common, and was found cold the next morning, +with the night dews and the death dews mingled on his forehead.</p> + +<p>"Let us have one look at poor Benjamin's grave," said I. "His bones +lie where his body was laid so long ago, and where the stone says they +lie—which is more than can be said of most of the tenants of this and +several other burial grounds....</p> + +<p>"Stop before we turn away, and breathe a woman's sigh over poor +Benjamin's dust. Love killed him, I think. Twenty years old, and out +there fighting another young fellow on the common, in the cool of that +old July evening; yes, there must have been love at the bottom of it."</p> + +<p>The schoolmistress dropt a rosebud she had in her hand through the +rails, upon the grave of Benjamin Woolbridge. That was all her comment +upon what I told her. "How women love Love!" said I; but she did not +speak.</p> + +<p>We came opposite the head of a place or court running eastward from +the main street. "Look down there," I said; "my friend, the Professor, +lived in that house, at the left hand, next the further corner, for +years and years. He died out of it, the other day." "Died?" said the +schoolmistress. "Certainly," said I. "We die out of houses, just as we +die out of our bodies. A commercial smash kills a hundred men's homes +for them, as a railroad crash kills their mortal frames and drives out +the immortal tenants. Men sicken of houses until at last they quit +them, as the soul leaves its body when it is tired of its infirmities. +The body has been called 'the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> house we live in'; the house is quite +as much the body we live in. Shall I tell you some things the +Professor said the other day?" "Do!" said the schoolmistress.</p> + +<p>"'A man's body,' said the Professor, 'is whatever is occupied by his +will and his sensibility. The small room down there, where I wrote +those papers you remember reading, was much more a part of my body +than a paralytic's senseless and motionless arm or leg is of his.</p> + +<p>"'The soul of a man has a series of concentric envelopes around it, +like the core of an onion, or the innermost of a nest of boxes. First, +he has his natural garment of flesh and blood. Then his artificial +integuments, with their true skin of solid stuffs, their cuticle of +lighter tissues, and their variously tinted pigments. Third, his +domicile, be it a single chamber or a stately mansion. And then, the +whole visible world, in which Time buttons him up as in a loose +outside wrapper.</p> + +<p>"'You shall observe,' the Professor said, for like Mr. John Hunter and +other great men, he brings in that 'shall' with great effect +sometimes, 'you shall observe that a man's clothing or series of +envelopes after a certain time mold themselves upon his individual +nature. We know this of our hats, and are always reminded of it when +we happen to put them on wrong side foremost. We soon find that the +beaver is a hollow cast of the skull, with all its irregular bumps and +depressions. Just so all that clothes a man, even to the blue sky +which caps his head—a little loosely—shapes itself to fit each +particular being beneath it. Farmers, sailors, astronomers, poets, +lovers, condemned criminals, all find it different,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> according to the +eyes with which they severally look.</p> + +<p>"'But our houses shape themselves palpably on our inner and outer +natures. See a householder breaking up and you will be sure of it. +There is a shellfish which builds all manner of smaller shells into +the walls of its own. A house is never a home until we have crusted it +with the spoils of a hundred lives besides those of our own past. See +what these are, and you can tell what the occupant is.</p> + +<p>"'I had no idea,' said the Professor, 'until I pulled up my domestic +establishment the other day, what an enormous quantity of roots I had +been making the years I was planted there. Why, there wasn't a nook or +a corner that some fiber had not worked its way into; and when I gave +the last wrench, each of them seemed to shriek like a mandrake, as it +broke its hold and came away.</p> + +<p>"'There is nothing that happens, you know, which must not inevitably, +and which does not actually, photograph itself in every conceivable +aspect and in all dimensions. The infinite galleries of the Past await +but one brief process, and all their pictures will be called out and +fixt forever. We had a curious illustration of the great fact on a +very humble scale. When a certain bookcase, long standing in one +place, for which it was built, was removed, there was the exact image +on the wall of the whole, and of many of its portions. But in the +midst of this picture was another—the precise outline of a map which +hung on the wall before the bookcase was built. We had all forgotten +everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> about the map until we saw its photograph on the wall. +Then we remembered it, as some day or other we may remember a sin +which has been built over and covered up, when this lower universe is +pulled away from the wall of Infinity, where the wrongdoing stands, +self-recorded.'</p> + +<p>"The Professor lived in that house a long time—not twenty years, but +pretty near it. When he entered that door, two shadows glided over the +threshold; five lingered in the doorway when he passed through it for +the last time—and one of the shadows was claimed by its owner to be +longer than his own. What changes he saw in that quiet place! Death +rained through every roof but his; children came into life, grew to +maturity; wedded, faded away, threw themselves away; the whole drama +of life was played in that stock company's theater of a dozen houses, +one of which was his, and no deep sorrow or severe calamity ever +entered his dwelling. 'Peace be to those walls forever,' the Professor +said, for the many pleasant years he has passed within them.</p> + +<p>"The Professor has a friend, now living at a distance, who has been +with him in many of his changes of place, and who follows him in +imagination with tender interest wherever he goes. In that little +court, where he lived in gay loneliness so long—in his autumnal +sojourn by the Connecticut, where it comes loitering down from its +mountain fastnesses like a great lord, swallowing up the small +proprietary rivulets very quietly as it goes, until it gets proud and +swollen and wantons in huge luxurious oxbows about the fair +Northampton meadows, and at last overflows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> the oldest inhabitant's +memory in profligate freshets at Hartford and all along its lower +shores—up in that caravansary on the banks of the stream where +Ledyard launched his log canoe, and the jovial old Colonel used to +lead the commencement processions—where blue Ascutney looked down +from the far distance, and the hills of Beulah, as the Professor +always called them, rolled up the opposite horizon in soft climbing +masses, so suggestive of the Pilgrim's Heavenward Path that he used to +look through his old 'Dollond' to see if the Shining Ones were not +within range of sight—sweet visions, sweetest in those Sunday walks +that carried them by the peaceful common, through the solemn village +lying in cataleptic stillness under the shadows of the rod of Moses, +to the terminus of their harmless stroll—the 'patulous fage,' in the +Professor's classic dialect—the spreading beech, in more familiar +phrase—[stop and breathe here a moment, for the sentence is not done +yet, and We have another long journey before us.]</p> + +<p>"—and again once more up among those other hills that shut in the +amber-flowing Housatonic—dark stream, but clear, like the lucid orbs +that shine beneath the lids of auburn-haired, sherry-wine-eyed +demiblondes—in the home overlooking the winding stream and the +smooth, flat meadow; looked down upon by wild hills, where the tracks +of bears and catamounts may yet sometimes be seen upon the winter +snow; facing the twin summits which rise in the far North, the highest +waves of the great land storm in this billowy region—suggestive to +mad fancies of the breasts of a half-buried Titaness, stretched out by +a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> stray thunderbolt, and hastily hidden away beneath the leaves of +the forest—in that home where seven blest summers were passed, which +stand in memory like the seven golden candlesticks in the beatific +vision of the holy dreamer—</p> + +<p>"—in that modest dwelling we were just looking at, not glorious, yet +not unlovely in the youth of its drab and mahogany—full of great and +little boys' playthings from top to bottom—in all these summer or +winter nests he was always at home and always welcome.</p> + +<p>"This long articulated sigh of reminiscences—this calenture which +shows me the maple-shadowed plains of Berkshire and the +mountain-circled green of Grafton beneath the salt waves that come +feeling their way along the wall at my feet, restless and +soft-touching as blind men's busy fingers—is for that friend of mine +who looks into the waters of the Patapsco and sees beneath them the +same visions that paint themselves for me in the green depths of the +Charles."</p> + +<p>Did I talk all this off to the schoolmistress? Why, no—of course not. +I have been talking with you, the reader, for the last ten minutes. +You don't think I should expect any woman to listen to such a sentence +as that long one, without giving her a chance to put in a word?</p> + +<p>What did I say to the schoolmistress? Permit me one moment. I don't +doubt your delicacy and good-breeding; but in this particular case, as +I was allowed the privilege of walking alone with a very interesting +young woman, you must allow me to remark, in the classic version of a +familiar phrase, used by our Master Benjamin Franklin, it is <i>nullum +tui negotii</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the schoolmistress and I reached the schoolroom door, the damask +roses I spoke of were so much heightened in color by exercise that I +felt sure it would be useful to her to take a stroll like this every +morning, and made up my mind I would ask her to let me join her again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IV</h2> +<h2><a name="OF_WOMEN_WHO_PUT_ON_AIRS" id="OF_WOMEN_WHO_PUT_ON_AIRS"></a>OF WOMEN WHO PUT ON AIRS<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></h2> + + +<p>I can't say just how many walks she (the schoolmistress) and I had +taken together before this one. I found the effect of going out every +morning was decidedly favorable on her health. Two pleasing dimples, +the places for which were just marked when she came, played, shadowy, +in her freshening cheeks when she smiled and nodded good-morning to me +from the schoolhouse steps.</p> + +<p>I am afraid I did the greater part of the talking. At any rate, if I +should try to report all that I said during the first half-dozen walks +we took together, I fear that I might receive a gentle hint from my +friends the publishers that a separate volume, at my own risk and +expense, would be the proper method of bringing them before the +public.</p> + +<p>I would have a woman as true as death. At the first real lie which +works from the heart <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>outward she should be tenderly chloroformed into +a better world, where she can have an angel for a governess, and feed +on strange fruits which will make her all over again, even to her +bones and marrow. Whether gifted with the accident of beauty or not, +she should have been molded in the rose-red clay of love before the +breath of life made a moving mortal of her. Love capacity is a +congenital endowment; and I think, after a while, one gets to know the +warm-hued natures it belongs to from the pretty pipe-clay counterfeits +of it. Proud she may be, in the sense of respecting herself; but +pride, in the sense of contemning others less gifted than herself, +deserves the two lowest circles of a vulgar woman's Inferno, where the +punishments are smallpox and bankruptcy. She who nips off the end of a +brittle courtesy, as one breaks the tip of an icicle, to bestow upon +those whom she ought cordially and kindly to recognize, proclaims the +fact that she comes not merely of low blood, but of bad blood. +Consciousness of unquestioned position makes people gracious in proper +measure to all; but if a woman puts on airs with her real equals, she +has something about herself or her family she is ashamed of, or ought +to be. Middle, and more than middle-aged people, who know family +histories, generally see through it. An official of standing was rude +to me once. "Oh, that is the maternal grandfather," said a wise old +friend to me, "he was a boor." Better too few words, from the woman we +love, than too many: while she is silent, Nature is working for her; +while she talks, she is working for herself. Love is sparingly soluble +in the words of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> men; therefore they speak much of it; but one +syllable of woman's speech can dissolve more of it than a man's heart +can hold.</p> + +<p>Whether I said any or all of these things to the schoolmistress or +not—whether I stole them put of Lord Bacon—whether I cribbed them +from Balzac—whether I dipt them from the ocean of Tupperian +wisdom—or whether I have just found them in my head (laid there by +that solemn fowl, Experience, who, according to my observation, +cackles oftener than she drops real, live eggs), I can not say. Wise +men have said more foolish things—and foolish men, I don't doubt, +have said as wise things. Anyhow, the schoolmistress and I had +pleasant walks and long talks, all of which I do not feel bound to +report.</p> + +<p>You are a stranger to me, Ma'am.—I don't doubt you would like to know +all I said to the schoolmistress.—I shan't do it; I had rather get +the publishers to return the money you have invested in this. Besides, +I have forgotten a good deal of it. I shall tell only what I like of +what I remember.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> From Chapter V of "The Poet at the Breakfast Table." +Copyright, 1872, 1891, by Oliver Wendell Holmes. Published by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> From an address before the Massachusetts Historical +Society in 1862. Published by Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Anson Burlingame, famous in his time for treaties +negotiated between China and the United States, England, Denmark, +Sweden, Holland, and Prussia. His son, E. I. Burlingame, has long been +the editor of <i>Scribner's Magazine</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Hester Lynch Salisbury, who married first Henry Thrale, +the English brewer, and second an Italian musician named Piozzi; but +her fame rests on her friendship of twenty years with Doctor Samuel +Johnson, of whom she wrote reminiscences, described by Carlyle as +"Piozzi's ginger beer."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> From Part X of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." +Published by Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> From Part XI of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." +Published by Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MARGARET_FULLER" id="MARGARET_FULLER"></a>MARGARET FULLER</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in Massachusetts in 1810; lost in a shipwreck off Fire +Island in 1850; edited <i>The Dial</i> in 1840-42; literary +critic for the New York <i>Tribune</i> in 1844-46; went to Europe +in 1846; married the Marquis d'Ossoli in 1847; in Rome +during the Revolution of 1848-49; published "A Summer on the +Lakes" in 1843, "Woman in the Nineteenth Century" in 1845, +"Papers on Art and Literature" in 1846.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="HER_VISIT_TO_GEORGE_SAND" id="HER_VISIT_TO_GEORGE_SAND"></a>HER VISIT TO GEORGE SAND<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></h2> + +<p>It is the custom to go and call on those to whom you bring letters, +and push yourself upon their notice; thus you must go quite ignorant +whether they are disposed to be cordial. My name is always murdered by +the foreign servants who announce me. I speak very bad French; only +lately have I had sufficient command of it to infuse some of my +natural spirit in my discourse. This has been a great trial to me, who +am eloquent and free in my own tongue, to be forced to feel my +thoughts struggling in vain for utterance.</p> + +<p>The servant who admitted me was in the picturesque costume of a +peasant, and as Madame Sand afterward told me, her goddaughter, whom +she had brought from her province. She announced me as "Madame +Salère," and returned <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>into the anteroom to tell me, "Madame says she +does not know you." I began to think I was doomed to rebuff among the +crowd who deserve it. However, to make assurance sure, I said, "Ask if +she has received a letter from me." As I spoke Madame Sand opened the +door, and stood looking at me an instant. Our eyes met.</p> + +<p>I never shall forget her look at that moment. The doorway made a frame +for her figure; she is large but well formed. She was drest in a robe +of dark-violet silk, with a black mantle on her shoulders, her +beautiful hair drest with the greatest taste; her whole appearance and +attitude, in its simple and ladylike dignity, presented an almost +ludicrous contrast to the vulgar caricature idea of George Sand. Her +face is a very little like the portraits, but much finer; the upper +part of the forehead and eyes are beautiful, the lower strong and +masculine, expressive of a hardy temperament and strong passions, but +not in the least coarse; the complexion olive, and the air of the +whole head Spanish (as, indeed, she was born at Madrid, and is only on +one side of French blood).</p> + +<p>All these I saw at a glance; but what fixt my attention was the +expression of goodness, nobleness, and power that pervaded the +whole—the truly human heart and nature that shone in the eyes. As our +eyes met, she said, "<i>C'est vous</i>," and held out her hand. I took it, +and went into her little study; we sat down a moment; then I said, +"<i>Il me fait de bien de vous voir</i>," and I am sure I said it with my +whole heart, for it made me very happy to see such a woman, so large +and so developed in character, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> everything that is good in it so +really good. I loved, shall always love her.</p> + +<p>She looked away, and said, <i>"Ah! vous m'avez écrit une lettre +charmante</i>." This was all the preliminary of our talk, which then went +on as if we had always known one another.... Her way of talking is +just like her writing—lively, picturesque, with an undertone of deep +feeling, and the same happiness in striking the nail on the head every +now and then with a blow.... I heartily enjoyed the sense of so rich, +so prolific, so ardent a genius. I liked the woman in her, too, very +much; I never liked a woman better.... For the rest, she holds her +place in the literary and social world of France like a man, and seems +full of energy and courage in it. I suppose she has suffered much, but +she has also enjoyed and done much.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="TWO_GLIMPSES_OF_CARLYLE" id="TWO_GLIMPSES_OF_CARLYLE"></a>TWO GLIMPSES OF CARLYLE<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></h2> + +<p>Of the people I saw in London you will wish me to speak first of the +Carlyles. Mr. Carlyle came to see me at once, and appointed an evening +to be passed at their house. That first time I was delighted with him. +He was in a very sweet humor—full of wit and pathos, without being +overbearing or oppressive. I was quite <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>carried away with the rich +flow of his discourse; and the hearty, noble earnestness of his +personal being brought back the charm which once was upon his writing, +before I wearied of it. I admired his Scotch, his way of singing his +great full sentences, so that each one was like the stanza of a +narrative ballad. He let me talk, now and then, enough to free my +lungs and change my position, so that I did not get tired. That +evening he talked of the present state of things in England, giving +light, witty sketches of the men of the day, fanatics and others, and +some sweet, homely stories he told of things he had known of the +Scotch peasantry. Of you he spoke with hearty kindness; and he told +with beautiful feeling a story of some poor farmer or artizan in the +country, who on Sunday lays aside the cark and care of that dirty +English world, and sits reading the "Essays" and looking upon the +sea....</p> + +<p>The second time Mr. Carlyle had a dinner party, at which was a witty, +French, flippant sort of a man, named Lewes,<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> author of a "History +of Philosophy," and now writing a life of Goethe, a task for which he +must be as unfit as irreligion and sparkling shallowness can make him. +But he told stories admirably, and was allowed sometimes to interrupt +Carlyle a little—of which one was glad, for that night he was in his +acrid mood; and tho much more brilliant than on the former evening, +grew wearisome to me, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>who disclaimed and rejected almost everything +he said....</p> + +<p>Accustomed to the infinite wit and exuberant richness of his writings, +his talk is still an amazement and a splendor scarcely to be faced +with steady eyes. He does not converse, only harangues. It is the +usual misfortune of such marked men—happily not one invariable or +inevitable—that they can not allow other minds room to breathe, and +show themselves in their atmosphere, and thus miss the refreshment and +instruction which the greatest never cease to need from the experience +of the humblest. Carlyle allows no one a chance, but bears down all +opposition, not only by his wit and onset of words, resistless in +their sharpness as so many bayonets, but by actual physical +superiority—raising his voice and rushing on his opponent with a +torrent of sound. This is not in the least from unwillingness to allow +freedom to others. On the contrary, no man would more enjoy a manly +resistance in his thoughts. But it is the impulse of a mind accustomed +to follow out its own impulse, as the hawk its prey, and which knows +not how to stop in the chase.</p> + +<p>Carlyle indeed is arrogant and overbearing; but in his arrogance there +is no littleness, no self-love. It is the heroic arrogance of some old +Scandinavian conqueror; it is his nature, and the untamable impulse +that has given him power to crush the dragons. He sings rather than +talks. He pours upon you a kind of satirical, heroical, critical poem, +with regular cadences, and generally catching up, near the beginning, +some singular epithet which serves as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> a refrain when his song is +full, or with which, as with a knitting-needle, he catches up the +stitches, if he has chanced now and then to let fall a row. For the +higher kinds of poetry he has no sense, and his talk on that subject +is delightfully and gorgeously absurd. He sometimes stops a minute to +laugh at it himself, then begins anew with fresh vigor; for all the +spirits he is driving before him as Fata Morgana,<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> ugly masks, in +fact, if he can but make them turn about; but he laughs that they seem +to others such dainty Ariels. His talk, like his books, is full of +pictures; his critical strokes masterly. Allow for his point of view, +and his survey is admirable. He is a large subject. I can not speak +more or wiselier of him now, nor needs it; his works are true, to +blame and praise him—the Siegfried of England, great and powerful, if +not quite invulnerable, and of a might rather to destroy evil than +legislate for good.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> From a letter to Elizabeth Hoar, written in 1847 and +printed in the "Memoirs."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> From a letter to Emerson, written in 1846, and printed +in the "Memoirs."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> George Henry Lewes, whose relations to George Eliot +began after Margaret Fuller's visit. Lewes was not a Frenchman, but of +Welsh descent, born in London, and a grandson of Charles Lee Lewes, +the actor.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Fata (a fairy) Morgana, sister of King Arthur, is a +leading figure in the "Morte d'Arthur" and other romances, including +Italian.</p></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HORACE_GREELEY" id="HORACE_GREELEY"></a>HORACE GREELEY</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in New Hampshire in 1811, died in 1872; came to New +York in 1831, where he edited the <i>Log Cabin</i> during the +Harrison-Tyler campaign; in 1841 founded <i>The Tribune;</i> +member of Congress in 1848-49; prominent as an anti-slavery +leader and supporter of the Union cause; nominated for +president by the Liberal-Republican and Democratic parties +in 1872, but defeated by Gen. Grant; published +"Recollections of a Busy Life" in 1868, and "The American +Conflict" in 1864-66.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_FATALITY_OF_SELF-SEEKING_IN_EDITORS_AND_AUTHORS" id="THE_FATALITY_OF_SELF-SEEKING_IN_EDITORS_AND_AUTHORS"></a>THE FATALITY OF SELF-SEEKING IN EDITORS AND AUTHORS<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></h2> + +<p>It only remains to me to speak more especially of my own vocation—the +editor's—which bears much the same relation to the author's that the +bellows-blower's bears to the organist's, the player's to the +dramatist's, Julian or Liszt to Weber or Beethoven. The editor, from +the absolute necessity of the case, can not speak deliberately; he +must write to-day of to-day's incidents and aspects, tho these may be +completely overlaid and transformed by the incidents and aspects of +to-morrow. He must write and strive in the full consciousness that +whatever honor or distinction he may acquire must perish with the +generation that bestowed them—with the thunders of applause that +greeted Kemble or Jenny <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>Lind, with the ruffianism that expelled +Macready, or the cheerful laugh that erewhile rewarded the sallies of +Burton or Placide.<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></p> + +<p>No other public teacher lives so wholly in the present as the editor; +and the noblest affirmations of unpopular truth—the most +self-sacrificing defiance of a base and selfish public sentiment that +regards only the most sordid ends, and values every utterance solely +as it tends to preserve quiet and contentment, while the dollars fall +jingling into the merchant's drawer, the land-jobber's vault, and the +miser's bag—can but be noted in their day, and with their day +forgotten. It is his cue to utter silken and smooth sayings—to +condemn vice so as not to interfere with the pleasures or alarm the +conscience of the vicious—to praise and champion liberty so as not to +give annoyance or offense to slavery, and to commend and glorify labor +without attempting to expose or repress any of the gainful +contrivances by which labor is plundered and degraded. Thus sidling +dextrously between somewhere and nowhere, the able editor of the +nineteenth century may glide through life respectable and in good +ease, and lie down to his long rest with the non-achievements of his +life emblazoned on the very whitest marble, surmounting and glorifying +his dust.</p> + +<p>There is a different and sterner path—I know not whether there be any +now qualified to tread it—I am not sure that even one has ever +followed it implicitly, in view of the certain meagerness <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>of its +temporal rewards and the haste wherewith any fame acquired in a sphere +so thoroughly ephemeral as the editor's must be shrouded by the dark +waters of oblivion. This path demands an ear ever open to the plaints +of the wronged and the suffering, tho they can never repay advocacy, +and those who mainly support newspapers will be annoyed and often +exposed by it; a heart as sensitive to oppression and degradation in +the next street as if they were practised in Brazil or Japan; a pen as +ready to expose and reprove the crimes whereby wealth is amassed and +luxury enjoyed in our own country at this hour as if they had only +been committed by Turks or pagans in Asia some centuries ago.</p> + +<p>Such an editor, could one be found or trained, need not expect to lead +an easy, indolent, or wholly joyous life—to be blest by archbishops +or followed by the approving shouts of ascendent majorities; but he +might find some recompense for their loss in the calm verdict of an +approving conscience; and the tears of the despised and the +friendless, preserved from utter despair by his efforts and +remonstrances, might freshen for a season the daisies that bloomed +above his grave.</p> + +<p>Literature is a noble calling, but only when the call obeyed by the +aspirant issues from a world to be enlightened and blest, not from a +void stomach clamoring to be gratified and filled. Authorship is a +royal priesthood; but wo to him who rashly lays unhallowed hands on +the ark or the altar, professing a zeal for the welfare of the race +only that he may secure the confidence and sympathies of others, and +use them for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> own selfish ends! If a man have no heroism in his +soul—no animating purpose beyond living easily and faring +sumptuously—I can imagine no greater mistake on his part than that of +resorting to authorship as a vocation. That such a one may achieve +what he regards as success I do not deny; but, if so, he does it at +greater risk and by greater exertion than would have been required to +win it in any other pursuit. No; it can not be wise in a selfish, or +sordid, or sensual man to devote himself to literature; the fearful +self-exposure incident to this way of life—the dire necessity which +constrains the author to stamp his own essential portrait on every +volume of his works, no matter how carefully he may fancy he has +erased, or how artfully he may suppose he has concealed it—this +should repel from the vestibule of the temple of fame the foot of +every profane or mocking worshiper.</p> + +<p>But if you are sure that your impulse is not personal nor sinister, +but a desire to serve and ennoble your race, rather than to dazzle and +be served by it; that you are ready joyfully to "scorn delights, and +live laborious days," so that thereby the well-being of mankind may be +promoted—then I pray you not to believe that the world is too wise to +need further enlightenment, nor that it would be impossible for one so +humble as yourself to say aught whereby error may be dispelled or good +be diffused. Sell not your integrity; barter not your independence; +beg of no man the privilege of earning a livelihood by authorship; +since that is to degrade your faculty, and very probably to corrupt +it; but seeing through your own clear eyes, and ut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>tering the impulses +of your own honest heart, speak or write as truth and love shall +dictate, asking no material recompense, but living by the labor of +your hands, until recompense shall be voluntarily tendered to secure +your service, and you may frankly accept it without a compromise of +your integrity or a peril to your freedom. Soldier in the long warfare +for man's rescue from darkness and evil, choose not your place on the +battle-field, but joyfully accept that assigned you; asking not +whether there be higher or lower, but only whether it is here that you +can most surely do your proper work, and meet your full share of the +responsibility and the danger.</p> + +<p>Believe not that the heroic age is no more; since to that age is only +requisite the heroic purpose and the heroic soul. So long as ignorance +and evil shall exist so long there will be work for the devoted, and +so long will there be room in the ranks of those who, defying obloquy, +misapprehension, bigotry, and interested craft, struggle and dare for +the redemption of the world. "Of making many books there is no end," +tho there is happily a speedy end of most books after they are made; +but he who by voice or pen strikes his best blow at the impostures and +vices whereby our race is debased and paralyzed may close his eyes in +death, consoled and cheered by the reflection that he has done what he +could for the emancipation and elevation of his kind.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Printed with the "Miscellanies" In the "Recollections of +a Busy Life."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Henry Placide, an American actor born in Charleston, who +excelled in the parts of Sir Peter Teazle and Sir Anthony Absolute.</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JOHN_LOTHROP_MOTLEY" id="JOHN_LOTHROP_MOTLEY"></a>JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1814, died in 1877; graduated from Harvard in 1831; +studied at Göttingen and Berlin; returned to America in 1834 +and admitted to the bar, but soon took up the study of +history; United States minister to Austria in 1861-68, and +to Great Britain in 1869-70; published his "Rise of the +Dutch Republic" in 1856, "History of the United Netherlands" +in 1860-67, and "John of Barneveld" in 1874.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="CHARLES_V_AND_PHILIP_II_IN_BRUSSELS" id="CHARLES_V_AND_PHILIP_II_IN_BRUSSELS"></a>CHARLES V AND PHILIP II IN BRUSSELS<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></h2> + +<h3>(1555)</h3> +<p>The Emperor, like many potentates before and since, was fond of great +political spectacles. He knew their influence upon the masses of +mankind. Altho plain even to shabbiness in his own costume, and +usually attired in black, no one ever understood better than he how to +arrange such exhibitions in a striking and artistic style. We have +seen the theatrical and imposing manner in which he quelled the +insurrection at Ghent, and nearly crusht the life forever out of that +vigorous and turbulent little commonwealth. The closing scene of his +long and energetic reign he had now arranged with profound study, and +with an accurate knowledge of the manner in which the requisite +effects were to be produced. The <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>termination of his own career, the +opening of his beloved Philip's, were to be dramatized in a manner +worthy the august characters of the actors, and the importance of the +great stage where they played their parts. The eyes of the whole world +were directed upon that day toward Brussels; for an imperial +abdication was an event which had not, in the sixteenth century, been +staled by custom.</p> + +<p>The gay capital of Brabant—of that province which rejoiced in the +liberal constitution known by the cheerful title of the "joyful +entrance"—was worthy to be the scene of the imposing show. Brussels +had been a city for more than five centuries, and at that day numbered +about one hundred thousand inhabitants. Its walls, six miles in +circumference, were already two hundred years old. Unlike most +Netherland cities, lying usually upon extensive plains, it was built +along the sides of an abrupt promontory. A wide expanse of living +verdure—cultivated gardens, shady groves, fertile cornfields—flowed +round it like a sea. The foot of the town was washed by the little +river Senne, while the irregular but picturesque streets rose up the +steep sides of the hill like the semicircles and stairways of an +amphitheater. Nearly in the heart of the place rose the audacious and +exquisitely embroidered tower of the town-house, three hundred and +sixty-six feet in height; a miracle of needlework in stone, rivaling +in its intricate carving the cobweb tracery of that lace which has for +centuries been synonymous with the city, and rearing itself above a +façade of profusely decorated and brocaded architecture. The crest of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +the elevation was crowned by the towers of the old ducal palace of +Brabant, with its extensive and thickly wooded park on the left, and +by the stately mansions of Orange, Egmont, Aremberg, Culemburg, and +other Flemish grandees, on the right....</p> + +<p>The palace where the states-general were upon this occasion convened +had been the residence of the dukes of Brabant since the days of John +the Second, who had built it about the year 1300. It was a spacious +and convenient building, but not distinguished for the beauty of its +architecture. In front was a large open square, enclosed by an iron +railing; in the rear an extensive and beautiful park, filled with +forest trees, and containing gardens and labyrinths, fish-ponds and +game preserves, fountains and promenades, race-courses and archery +grounds. The main entrance to this edifice opened upon a spacious +hall, connected with a beautiful and symmetrical chapel. The hall was +celebrated for its size, harmonious proportions, and the richness of +its decorations. It was the place where the chapters of the famous +order of the Golden Fleece were held. Its walls were hung with a +magnificent tapestry of Arras, representing the life and achievements +of Gideon the Midianite, and giving particular prominence to the +miracle of the "fleece of wool," vouchsafed to that renowned champion, +the great patron of the Knights of the Fleece.</p> + +<p>On the present occasion there were various additional embellishments +of flowers and votive garlands. At the western end a spacious platform +or stage, with six or seven steps, had been con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>structed, below which +was a range of benches for the deputies of the seventeen provinces. +Upon the stage itself there were rows of seats, covered with tapestry, +upon the right hand and upon the left. These were respectively to +accommodate the knights of the order and the guests of high +distinction. In the rear of these were other benches for the members +of the three great councils. In the center of the stage was a splendid +canopy, decorated with the arms of Burgundy, beneath which were placed +three gilded arm-chairs. All the seats upon the platform were vacant; +but the benches below, assigned to the deputies of the provinces, were +already filled. Numerous representatives from all the States but +two—Gelderland and Overyssel—had already taken their places. Grave +magistrates in chain and gown, and executive officers in the splendid +civic uniforms for which the Netherlands were celebrated, already +filled every seat within the space allotted. The remainder of the hall +was crowded with the more favored portion of the multitude, which had +been fortunate enough to procure admission to the exhibition. The +archers and halbardiers of the body-guard kept watch at all the doors. +The theater was filled, the audience was eager with expectation, the +actors were yet to arrive.</p> + +<p>As the clock struck three, the hero of the scene appeared. Cæsar, as +he was always designated in the classic language of the day, entered, +leaning on the shoulder of William of Orange. They came from the +chapel, and were immediately followed by Philip the Second and Queen +Mary of Hungary. The Archduke Maximilian, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> Duke of Savoy, and +other great personages came afterward, accompanied by a glittering +throng of warriors, councilors, governors, and Knights of the Fleece.</p> + +<p>Many individuals of existing or future historic celebrity in the +Netherlands, whose names are so familiar to the student of the epoch, +seemed to have been grouped, as if by premeditated design, upon this +imposing platform, where the curtain was to fall forever upon the +mightiest emperor since Charlemagne, and where the opening scene of +the long and tremendous tragedy of Philip's reign was to be +simultaneously enacted. There was the bishop of Arras, soon to be +known throughout Christendom by the more celebrated title of Cardinal +Granvelle—the serene and smiling priest, whose subtle influence over +the destinies of so many individuals then present, and over the +fortunes of the whole land, was to be so extensive and so deadly. +There was that flower of Flemish chivalry, the lineal descendant of +ancient Frisian kings, already distinguished for his bravery in many +fields, but not having yet won those two remarkable victories which +were soon to make the name of Egmont like the sound of a trumpet +throughout the whole country. Tall, magnificent in costume, with dark +flowing hair, soft brown eye, smooth cheek, a slight mustache, and +features of almost feminine delicacy—such was the gallant and +ill-fated Lamoral Egmont. The Count of Hoorne,<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> too, with bold, +sullen face, and fan-shaped beard—a brave, honest, discontented, +quarrelsome, unpopular <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>man; those other twins in doom, the Marquis +Berghen and the Lord of Montigny; the Baron Berlaymont, brave, +intensely loyal, insatiably greedy for office and wages, but who at +least never served but one party; the Duke of Arschot, who was to +serve all, essay to rule all, and to betray all—a splendid seignior, +magnificent in cramoisy velvet, but a poor creature, who traced his +pedigree from Adam according to the family monumental inscriptions at +Louvain, but who was better known as grandnephew of the Emperor's +famous tutor Chièvres; the bold, debauched Brederode, with handsome, +reckless face and turbulent demeanor; the infamous Noircarmes, whose +name was to be covered with eternal execration for aping toward his +own compatriots and kindred as much of Alva's atrocities and avarice +as he was permitted to exercise; the distinguished soldiers Meghen and +Aremberg—these, with many others whose deeds of arms were to become +celebrated throughout Europe, were all conspicuous in the brilliant +crowd. There, too, was that learned Frisian, President Viglius, +crafty, plausible, adroit, eloquent—a small, brisk man, with long +yellow hair, glittering green eyes, round, tumid, rosy cheeks, and +flowing beard. Foremost among the Spanish grandees, and close to +Philip, stood the famous favorite, Ruy Gomez, or, as he was familiarly +called, "<i>Re y Gomez</i>" (King and Gomez)—a man of meridional aspect, +with coal-black hair and beard, gleaming eyes, a face pallid with +intense application, and slender but handsome figure; while in +immediate attendance upon the Emperor was the immortal Prince of +Orange.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>Such were a few only of the most prominent in that gay throng, whose +fortunes in part it will be our humble duty to narrate; how many of +them passing through all this glitter to a dark and mysterious gloom! +some to perish on public scaffolds, some by midnight assassination; +others, more fortunate, to fall on the battle-field; nearly all, +sooner or later, to be laid in bloody graves!</p> + +<p>All the company present had risen to their feet as the Emperor +entered. By his command, all immediately after resumed their places. +The benches at either end of the platform were accordingly filled with +the royal and princely personages invited—with the Fleece Knights, +wearing the insignia of their order, with the members of the three +great councils, and with the governors. The Emperor, the King, and the +Queen of Hungary were left conspicuous in the center of the scene. As +the whole object of the ceremony was to present an impressive +exhibition, it is worth our while to examine minutely the appearance +of the two principal characters.</p> + +<p>Charles the Fifth was then fifty-five years and eight months old; but +he was already decrepit with premature old age. He was of about the +middle height; and had been athletic and well proportioned. Broad in +the shoulders, deep in the chest, thin in the flank, very muscular in +the arms and legs, he had been able to match himself with all +competitors in the tourney and the ring, and to vanquish the bull with +his own hand in the favorite national amusement of Spain. He had been +able in the field to do the duty of captain and soldier, to endure +fatigue and exposure, and every privation except fasting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> These +personal advantages were now departed. Crippled in hands, knees, and +legs, he supported himself with difficulty upon a crutch, with the aid +of an attendant's shoulder. In face he had always been extremely ugly, +and time had certainly not improved his physiognomy. His hair, once of +a light color, was now white with age, close-clipt and bristling; his +beard was gray, coarse, and shaggy. His forehead was spacious and +commanding; the eye was dark-blue, with an expression both majestic +and benignant. His nose was aquiline but crooked. The lower part of +his face was famous for its deformity. The under lip, a Burgundian +inheritance, as faithfully transmitted as the duchy and county, was +heavy and hanging; the lower jaw protruding so far beyond the upper +that it was impossible for him to bring together the few fragments of +teeth which still remained, or to speak a whole sentence in an +intelligible voice. Eating and talking, occupations to which he was +always much addicted, were becoming daily more arduous in consequence +of this original defect; which now seemed hardly human, but rather an +original deformity.</p> + +<p>So much for the father. The son, Philip the Second, was a small, +meager man, much below the middle height, with thin legs, a narrow +chest, and the shrinking, timid air of a habitual invalid. He seemed +so little upon his first visit to his aunts, the Queens Eleanor and +Mary, accustomed to look upon proper men in Flanders and Germany, that +he was fain to win their favor by making certain attempts in the +tournament, in which his success was sufficiently problematical.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> "His +body," says his profest panegyrist, "was but a human cage, in which, +however brief and narrow, dwelt a soul to whose flight the +immeasurable expanse of heaven was too contracted." The same wholesale +admirer adds that "his aspect was so reverend that rustics who met him +alone in the wood, without knowing him, bowed down with instinctive +veneration." In face he was the living image of his father; having the +same broad forehead and blue eye, with the same aquiline, but better +proportioned, nose. In the lower part of the countenance the +remarkable Burgundian deformity was likewise reproduced: he had the +same heavy, hanging lip, with a vast mouth, and monstrously protruding +lower jaw. His complexion was fair, his hair light and thin, his beard +yellow, short, and pointed. He had the aspect of a Fleming, but the +loftiness of a Spaniard. His demeanor in public was still, silent, +almost sepulchral. He looked habitually on the ground when he +conversed, was chary of speech, embarrassed and even suffering in +manner. This was ascribed partly to a natural haughtiness, which he +had occasionally endeavored to overcome, and partly to habitual pains +in the stomach, occasioned by his inordinate fondness for pastry.</p> + +<p>Such was the personal appearance of the man who was about to receive +into his single hand the destinies of half the world; whose single +will was, for the future, to shape the fortunes of every individual +then present, of many millions more in Europe, America, and at the +ends of the earth, and of countless millions yet unborn....</p> + +<p>The Emperor then rose to his feet. Leaning on his crutch, he beckoned +from his seat the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> personage upon whose arm he had leaned as he +entered the hall. A tall, handsome youth of twenty-two came forward: a +man whose name from that time forward, and as long as history shall +endure, has been and will be more familiar than any other in the +mouths of Netherlanders. At that day he had rather a southern than a +German or Flemish appearance. He had a Spanish cast of features, dark, +well chiseled, and symmetrical. His head was small and well placed +upon his shoulders. His hair was dark brown, as were also his mustache +and peaked beard. His forehead was lofty, spacious, and already +prematurely engraved with the anxious lines of thought. His eyes were +full, brown, well opened, and expressive of profound reflection. He +was drest in the magnificent apparel for which the Netherlanders were +celebrated above all other nations, and which the ceremony rendered +necessary. His presence being considered indispensable at this great +ceremony, he had been summoned but recently from the camp on the +frontier, where, notwithstanding his youth, the Emperor had appointed +him to command his army in chief against such antagonists as Admiral +Coligny and the Duc de Nevers.</p> + +<p>Thus supported upon his crutch and upon the shoulder of William of +Orange, the Emperor proceeded to address the States, by the aid of a +closely written brief which he held in his hand. He reviewed rapidly +the progress of events from his seventeenth year up to that day. +Turning to Philip, he observed that for a dying father to bequeath so +magnificent an empire to his son was a deed worthy of gratitude; but +that when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> the father thus descended to the grave before his time, and +by an anticipated and living burial sought to provide for the welfare +of his realms and the grandeur of his son, the benefit thus conferred +was surely far greater. He added that the debt would be paid to him +and with usury, should Philip conduct himself in his administration of +the province with a wise and affectionate regard to their true +interests....</p> + +<p>Sobs were heard throughout every portion of the hall, and tears poured +profusely from every eye. The Fleece Knights on the platform and the +burghers in the background were all melted with the same emotion. As +for the Emperor himself, he sank almost fainting upon his chair as he +concluded his address. An ashy paleness overspread his countenance, +and he wept like a child. Even the icy Philip was almost softened, as +he rose to perform his part in the ceremony. Dropping upon his knees +before his father's feet, he reverently kissed his hand. Charles +placed his hands solemnly upon his son's head, made the sign of the +cross, and blest him in the name of the Holy Trinity. Then raising him +in his arms he tenderly embraced him, saying, as he did so, to the +great potentates around him, that he felt a sincere compassion for the +son on whose shoulders so heavy a weight had just devolved, and which +only a lifelong labor would enable him to support....</p> + +<p>The orations and replies having now been brought to a close, the +ceremony was terminated. The Emperor, leaning on the shoulders of the +Prince of Orange and of the Count de Buren, slowly left the hall, +followed by Philip, the Queen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> of Hungary, and the whole court; all in +the same order in which they had entered, and by the same passage into +the chapel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_ARRIVAL_OF_THE_SPANISH_ARMADA" id="THE_ARRIVAL_OF_THE_SPANISH_ARMADA"></a>THE ARRIVAL OF THE SPANISH ARMADA<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></h2> + +<h3>(1588)</h3> +<p>Almost at that very instant intelligence had been brought from the +court to the Lord Admiral at Plymouth that the Armada, dispersed and +shattered by the gales of June, was not likely to make its appearance +that year; and orders had consequently been given to disarm the four +largest ships and send them into dock. Even Walsingham had +participated in this strange delusion.</p> + +<p>Before Howard<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> had time to act upon this ill-timed suggestion—even +had he been disposed to do so—he received authentic intelligence that +the great fleet was off the Lizard. Neither he nor Francis Drake were +the men to lose time in such an emergency; and before that Friday +night was spent, sixty of the best English ships had been warped out +of Plymouth harbor.</p> + +<p>On Saturday, 30th July, the wind was very <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>light at southwest, with a +mist and drizzling rain; but by three in the afternoon the two fleets +could descry and count each other through the haze.</p> + +<p>By nine o'clock, 31st July, about two miles from Looe on the Cornish +coast, the fleets had their first meeting. There were one hundred and +thirty-six sail of the Spaniards, of which ninety were large ships; +and sixty-seven of the English. It was a solemn moment. The +long-expected Armada presented a pompous, almost a theatrical +appearance. The ships seemed arranged for a pageant, in honor of a +victory already won. Disposed in form of a crescent, the horns of +which were seven miles asunder, those gilded, towered, floating +castles, with their gaudy standards and their martial music, moved +slowly along the channel, with an air of indolent pomp. Their +captain-general, the golden duke, stood in his private shot-proof +fortress, on the deck of his great galleon the <i>St. Martin</i>, +surrounded by generals of infantry and colonels of cavalry, who knew +as little as he did himself of naval matters.</p> + +<p>The English vessels, on the other hand—with a few exceptions light, +swift, and easily handled—could sail round and round those unwieldy +galleons, hulks, and galleys rowed by fettered slave gangs. The +superior seamanship of free Englishmen commanded by such experienced +captains as Drake, Frobisher,<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> and Hawkins<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a>—from infancy <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>at +home on blue water—was manifest in the very first encounter. They +obtained the weather-gage at once, and cannonaded the enemy at +intervals with considerable effect; easily escaping at will out of +range of the sluggish Armada, which was incapable of bearing sail in +pursuit, altho provided with an armament which could sink all its +enemies at close quarters. "We had some small fight with them that +Sunday afternoon," said Hawkins.</p> + +<p>Medina Sidonia<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> hoisted the royal standard at the fore; and the +whole fleet did its utmost, which was little, to offer general battle. +It was in vain. The English, following at the heels of the enemy, +refused all such invitations, and attacked only the rear-guard of the +Armada, where Recalde commanded. That admiral, steadily maintaining +his post, faced his nimble antagonists, who continued to tease, to +maltreat, and to elude him, while the rest of the fleet proceeded +slowly up the Channel closely followed by the enemy. And thus the +running fight continued along the coast, in full view of Plymouth, +whence boats with reenforcements and volunteers were perpetually +arriving to the English ships, until the battle had drifted quite out +of reach of the town.</p> + +<p>Already in this first "small fight" the Spaniards had learned a +lesson, and might even entertain a doubt of their invincibility. But +before the sun set there were more serious disasters. Much powder and +shot had been expended by the Spaniard to very little purpose, and so +a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>master-gunner on board Admiral Oquendo's flag-ship was reprimanded +for careless ball-practise. The gunner, who was a Fleming, enraged +with his captain, laid a train to the powder-magazine, fired it, and +threw himself into the sea. Two decks blew up. The great castle at the +stern rose into clouds, carrying with it the paymaster-general of the +fleet, a large portion of treasure, and nearly two hundred men. The +ship was a wreck, but it was possible to save the rest of the crew. So +Medina Sidonia sent light vessels to remove them, and wore with his +flag-ship to defend Oquendo, who had already been fastened upon by his +English pursuers. But the Spaniards, not being so light in hand as +their enemies, involved themselves in much embarrassment by their +maneuver, and there was much falling foul of each other, entanglement +of rigging, and carrying away of yards. Oquendo's men, however, were +ultimately saved and taken to other ships.</p> + +<p>Meantime Don Pedro de Valdez, commander of the Andalusian squadron, +having got his galleon into collision with two or three Spanish ships +successively, had at last carried away his foremast close to the deck, +and the wreck had fallen against his main-mast. He lay crippled and +helpless, the Armada was slowly deserting him, night was coming on, +the sea was running high, and the English, ever hovering near, were +ready to grapple with him. In vain did Don Pedro fire signals of +distress. The captain-general—even as tho the unlucky galleon had not +been connected with the Catholic fleet—calmly fired a gun to collect +his scattered ships, and abandoned Valdez to his fate. "He left me +comfortless in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> sight of the whole fleet," said poor Pedro; "and +greater inhumanity and unthankfulness I think was never heard of among +men."</p> + +<p>Yet the Spaniard comported himself most gallantly. Frobisher, in the +largest ship of the English fleet, the <i>Triumph</i>, of eleven hundred +tons, and Hawkins in the <i>Victory</i>, of eight hundred, cannonaded him +at a distance, but night coming on, he was able to resist; and it was +not till the following morning that he surrendered to the <i>Revenge</i>.</p> + +<p>Drake then received the gallant prisoner on board his flag-ship—much +to the disgust and indignation of Frobisher and Hawkins, thus +disappointed of their prize and ransom money—treated him with much +courtesy, and gave his word of honor that he and his men should be +treated fairly like good prisoners of war. This pledge was redeemed; +for it was not the English, as it was the Spanish custom, to convert +captives into slaves, but only to hold them for ransom. Valdez +responded to Drake's politeness by kissing his hand, embracing him, +and overpowering him with magnificent compliments. He was then sent on +board the Lord Admiral, who received him with similar urbanity, and +exprest his regret that so distinguished a personage should have been +so coolly deserted by the Duke of Medina. Don Pedro then returned to +the <i>Revenge</i>, where, as the guest of Drake, he was a witness to all +subsequent events up to the 10th of August; on which day he was sent +to London with some other officers, Sir Francis claiming his ransom as +his lawful due.</p> + +<p>Here certainly was no very triumphant beginning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> for the Invincible Armada. +On the very first day of their being in presence of the English fleet—then +but sixty-seven in number, and vastly their inferior in size and weight of +metal—they had lost the flagships of the Guipuzcoan and of the Andalusian +squadrons, with a general-admiral, four hundred and fifty officers and men, +and some one hundred thousand ducats of treasure. They had been +outmaneuvered, outsailed, and thoroughly maltreated by their antagonists, +and they had been unable to inflict a single blow in return. Thus the +"small fight" had been a cheerful one for the opponents of the Inquisition, +and the English were proportionally encouraged....</p> + +<p>Never, since England was England, had such a sight been seen as now +revealed itself in those narrow straits between Dover and Calais. +Along that long, low, sandy shore, and quite within the range of the +Calais fortifications, one hundred and thirty Spanish ships—the +greater number of them the largest and most heavily armed in the +world—lay face to face, and scarcely out of cannon-shot, with one +hundred and fifty English sloops and frigates, the strongest and +swiftest that the island could furnish, and commanded by men whose +exploits had rung through the world.</p> + +<p>Farther along the coast, invisible, but known to be performing a most +perilous and vital service, was a squadron of Dutch vessels of all +sizes, lining both the inner and outer edges of the sandbanks off the +Flemish coasts, and swarming in all the estuaries and inlets of that +intricate and dangerous cruising-ground between Dunkirk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> and +Walcheren. Those fleets of Holland and Zeeland, numbering some one +hundred and fifty galleons, sloops, and fly-boats, under Warmond, +Nassau, Van der Does, De Moor, and Rosendael, lay patiently blockading +every possible egress from Newport, or Gravelines, or Sluys, or +Flushing, or Dunkirk; and longing to grapple with the Duke of Parma, +so soon as his fleet of gunboats and hoys, packed with his Spanish and +Italian veterans, should venture to set forth upon the sea for their +long-prepared exploit.</p> + +<p>It was a pompous spectacle that midsummer night upon those narrow +seas. The moon, which was at the full, was rising calmly upon a scene +of anxious expectation. Would she not be looking, by the morrow's +night, upon a subjugated England, a reenslaved Holland—upon the +downfall of civil and religious liberty? Those ships of Spain, which +lay there with their banners waving in the moonlight, discharging +salvos of anticipated triumph and filling the air with strains of +insolent music—would they not, by daybreak, be moving straight to +their purpose, bearing the conquerors of the world to the scene of +their cherished hopes?</p> + +<p>That English fleet, too, which rode there at anchor, so anxiously on +the watch—would that swarm of nimble, lightly handled, but slender +vessels, which had held their own hitherto in hurried and desultory +skirmishes, be able to cope with their great antagonist, now that the +moment had arrived for the death grapple? Would not Howard, Drake, +Frobisher, Seymour, Winter, and Hawkins be swept out of the straits at +last, yielding an open passage to Medina, Oquendo,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> Recalde, and +Farnese? Would those Hollanders and Zeelanders cruising so vigilantly +among their treacherous shallows dare to maintain their post now that +the terrible "Holoferness," with his invincible legions, was resolved +to come forth?</p> + +<p>And the impatience of the soldiers and sailors on board the fleet was +equal to that of their commanders. There was London almost before +their eyes—a huge mass of treasure, richer and more accessible than +those mines beyond the Atlantic which had so often rewarded Spanish +chivalry with fabulous wealth. And there were men in those galleons +who remembered the sack of Antwerp eleven years before; men who could +tell, from personal experience, how helpless was a great commercial +city when once in the clutch of disciplined brigands; men who in that +dread "fury of Antwerp" had enriched themselves in an hour with the +accumulations of a merchant's lifetime, and who had slain fathers and +mothers, sons and daughters, brides and bridegrooms, before each +other's eyes, until the number of inhabitants butchered in the blazing +streets rose to many thousands, and the plunder from palaces and +warehouses was counted by millions, before the sun had set on the +"great fury." Those Spaniards, and Italians, and Walloons were now +thirsting for more gold, for more blood; and as the capital of England +was even more wealthy and far more defenseless than the commercial +metropolis of the Netherlands had been, so it was resolved that the +London "fury" should be more thorough and more productive than the +"fury of Antwerp," at the memory of which the world still shuddered. +And these professional soldiers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> had been taught to consider the +English as a pacific, delicate, effeminate race; dependent on good +living, without experience of war, quickly fatigued and discouraged, +and even more easily to be plundered and butchered than were the +excellent burghers of Antwerp.</p> + +<p>And so these southern conquerors looked down from their great galleons +and galeasses upon the English vessels. More than three-quarters of +them were merchantmen. There was no comparison whatever between the +relative strength of the fleets. In number they were about equal, +being each from one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty +strong; but the Spaniards had twice the tonnage of the English, four +times the artillery, and nearly three times the number of men....</p> + +<p>As the twilight deepened, the moon became totally obscured, dark cloud +masses spread over the heavens, the sea grew black, distant thunder +rolled, and the sob of an approaching tempest became distinctly +audible. Such indications of a westerly gale were not encouraging to +those cumbrous vessels, with the treacherous quicksands of Flanders +under their lee.</p> + +<p>At an hour past midnight it was so dark that it was difficult for the +most practised eye to pierce far into the gloom. But a faint drip of +oars now struck the ears of the Spaniards as they watched from the +decks. A few moments afterward the sea became suddenly luminous; and +six flaming vessels appeared at a slight distance, bearing steadily +down upon them before the wind and tide.</p> + +<p>There were men in the Armada who had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> at the siege of Antwerp +only three years before. They remembered with horror the devil-ships +of Gianibelli—those floating volcanoes which had seemed to rend earth +and ocean, whose explosion had laid so many thousands of soldiers dead +at a blow, and which had shattered the bridge and floating forts of +Farnese as tho they had been toys of glass. They knew too that the +famous engineer was at that moment in England.</p> + +<p>In a moment one of those horrible panics which spread with such +contagious rapidity among large bodies of men, seized upon the +Spaniards. There was a yell throughout the fleet—"The fire-ships of +Antwerp! the fire-ships of Antwerp!" and in an instant every cable was +cut, and frantic attempts were made by each galleon and galeasse to +escape what seemed imminent destruction. The confusion was beyond +description. Four or five of the largest ships became entangled with +each other. Two others were set on fire by the flaming vessels and +were consumed. Medina Sidonia, who had been warned, even before his +departure from Spain, that some such artifice would probably be +attempted, and who had even, early that morning, sent out a party of +sailors in a pinnace to search for indications of the scheme, was not +surprized or dismayed. He gave orders—as well as might be—that every +ship, after the danger should be passed, was to return to its post and +await his further orders. But it was useless in that moment of +unreasonable panic to issue commands. The despised Mantuan, who had +met with so many rebuffs at Philip's court, and who—owing to official +incredulity—had been but partially successful in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> his magnificent +enterprise at Antwerp, had now, by the mere terror of his name, +inflicted more damage on Philip's Armada than had hitherto been +accomplished by Howard and Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher combined.</p> + +<p>So long as night and darkness lasted, the confusion and uproar +continued. When the Monday morning dawned, several of the Spanish +vessels lay disabled, while the rest of the fleet was seen at a +distance of two leagues from Calais, driving toward the Flemish coast. +The threatened gale had not yet begun to blow; but there were fresh +squalls from the W. S. W., which, to such awkward sailors as the +Spanish vessels, were difficult to contend with. On the other hand, +the English fleet were all astir, and ready to pursue the Spaniards, +now rapidly drifting into the North Sea.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_SPANISH_FURY" id="THE_SPANISH_FURY"></a>"THE SPANISH FURY"<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></h2> + +<h3>(1576)</h3> +<p>Meantime, while the short November day was fast declining, the combat +still raged in the interior of the city (Antwerp). Various currents of +conflict, forcing their separate way through many streets, had at last +mingled in the Grande Place. Around this irregular, not very <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>spacious +square, stood the gorgeous Hotel de Ville, and the tall, many-storied, +fantastically gabled, richly decorated palaces of the guilds. Here a +long struggle took place. It was terminated for a time by the cavalry +of Vargas, who, arriving through the streets of Saint Joris, +accompanied by the traitor Van Ende, charged decisively into the +mêlée. The masses were broken, but multitudes of armed men found +refuge in the buildings, and every house became a fortress. From every +window and balcony a hot fire was poured into the square, as, pent in +a corner, the burghers stood at last at bay. It was difficult to carry +the houses by storm, but they were soon set on fire. A large number of +sutlers and other varlets had accompanied the Spaniards from the +citadel, bringing torches and kindling materials for the express +purpose of firing the town. With great dexterity, these means were now +applied, and in a brief interval the city hall and other edifices on +the square were in flames. The conflagration spread with rapidity, +house after house, street after street, taking fire. Nearly a thousand +buildings, in the most splendid and wealthy quarter of the city, were +soon in a blaze, and multitudes of human beings were burned with them. +In the city hall many were consumed, while others leapt from the +windows to renew the combat below. The many tortuous streets which led +down a slight descent from the rear of the town-house to the quays +were all one vast conflagration. On the other side, the magnificent +cathedral, separated from the Grande Place by a single row of +buildings, was lighted up, but not attacked by the flames.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> The tall +spire cast its gigantic shadow across the last desperate conflict. In +the street called the Canal au Sucre, immediately behind the +town-house, there was a fierce struggle, a horrible massacre. A crowd +of burghers, grave magistrates, and such of the German soldiers as +remained alive still confronted the ferocious Spaniards. There, amid +the flaming desolation, Goswyn Verreyck, the heroic margrave of the +city, fought with the energy of hatred and despair. The burgomaster +Van der Meere lay dead at his feet; senators, soldiers, citizens fell +fast around him, and he sank at last upon a heap of slain. With him +effectual resistance ended. The remaining combatants were butchered, +or were slowly forced downward to perish in the Scheld. Women, +children, old men were killed in countless numbers, and still, through +all this havoc, directly over the heads of the struggling throng, +suspended in mid-air above the din and smoke of the conflict, there +sounded, every half-quarter of every hour, as if in gentle mockery, +from the belfry of the cathedral, the tender and melodious chimes.</p> + +<p>Never was there a more monstrous massacre, even in the blood-stained +history of the Netherlands. It was estimated that, in the course of +this and the two following days, not less than eight thousand human +beings were murdered. The Spaniards seemed to cast off even the vizard +of humanity. Hell seemed emptied of its fiends. Night fell upon the +scene before the soldiers were masters of the city; but worse horrors +began after the contest was ended. This army of brigands had come +thither with a definite,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> practical purpose, for it was not +blood-thirst, nor lust, nor revenge, which had impelled them, but it +was avarice, greediness for gold. For gold they had waded through all +this blood and fire. Never had men more simplicity of purpose, more +directness in its execution. They had conquered their India at last; +its golden mines lay all before them, and every sword should open a +shaft. Riot and rape might be deferred; even murder, tho congenial to +their taste, was only subsidiary to their business. They had come to +take possession of the city's wealth, and they set themselves +faithfully to accomplish their task. For gold, infants were dashed out +of existence in their mothers' arms; for gold, parents were tortured +in their children's presence; for gold, brides were scourged to death +before their husbands' eyes. Wherever treasure was suspected, every +expedient which ingenuity, sharpened by greediness, could suggest, was +employed to extort it from its possessors. The fire, spreading more +extensively and more rapidly than had been desired through the +wealthiest quarter of the city, had unfortunately devoured a vast +amount of property. Six millions, at least, had thus been swallowed; a +destruction by which no one had profited. There was, however, much +left. The strong boxes of the merchants, the gold, silver, and +precious jewelry, the velvets, satins, brocades, laces, and similar +well concentrated and portable plunder, were rapidly appropriated. So +far the course was plain and easy, but in private houses it was more +difficult. The cash, plate, and other valuables of individuals were +not so easily discovered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>Torture was, therefore, at once employed to discover the hidden +treasures. After all had been given, if the sum seemed too little, the +proprietors were brutally punished for their poverty or their supposed +dissimulation. A gentlewoman, named Fabry, with her aged mother and +other females of the family, had taken refuge in the cellar of her +mansion. As the day was drawing to a close, a band of plunderers +entered, who, after ransacking the house, descended to the cellarage. +Finding the door barred, they forced it open with gunpowder. The +mother, who was nearest the entrance, fell dead on the threshold. +Stepping across her mangled body, the brigands sprang upon her +daughter, loudly demanding the property which they believed to be +concealed. They likewise insisted on being informed where the master +of the house had taken refuge. Protestations of ignorance as to hidden +treasure, or the whereabouts of her husband, who, for aught she knew, +was lying dead in the streets, were of no avail. To make her more +communicative, they hanged her on a beam in the cellar, and after a +few moments cut her down before life was extinct. Still receiving no +satisfactory reply, where a satisfactory reply was impossible, they +hanged her again. Again, after another brief interval, they gave her a +second release, and a fresh interrogatory. This barbarity they +repeated several times, till they were satisfied that there was +nothing to be gained by it, while, on the other hand, they were losing +much valuable time. Hoping to be more successful elsewhere, they left +her hanging for the last time, and trooped off to fresher fields. +Strange to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> relate, the person thus horribly tortured survived. A +servant in her family, married to a Spanish soldier, providentially +entered the house in time to rescue her perishing mistress. She was +restored to existence, but never to reason. Her brain was hopelessly +crazed, and she passed the remainder of her life wandering about her +house, or feebly digging in her garden for the buried treasure which +she had been thus fiercely solicited to reveal.</p> + +<p>A wedding-feast was rudely interrupted. Two young persons, neighbors +of opulent families, had been long betrothed, and the marriage-day had +been fixt for Sunday, the fatal 4th of November. The guests were +assembled, the ceremony concluded, and the nuptial banquet in +progress, when the horrible outcries in the streets proclaimed that +the Spaniards had broken loose. Hour after hour of trembling +expectation succeeded. At last, a thundering at the gate proclaimed +the arrival of a band of brigands. Preceded by their captain, a large +number of soldiers forced their way into the house, ransacking every +chamber, no opposition being offered by the family and friends, too +few and powerless to cope with this band of well-armed ruffians. Plate +chests, wardrobes, desks, caskets of jewelry were freely offered, +eagerly accepted, but not found sufficient, and to make the luckless +wretches furnish more than they possest, the usual brutalities were +employed. The soldiers began by striking the bridegroom dead. The +bride fell shrieking into her mother's arms, whence she was torn by +the murderers, who immediately put the mother to death, and an +indiscriminate massacre then followed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> the fruitless attempts to +obtain by threats and torture treasure which did not exist. The bride, +who was of remarkable beauty, was carried off to the citadel. Maddened +by this last outrage, the father, who was the only man of the party +left alive, rushed upon the Spaniards. Wresting a sword from one of +the crew, the old man dealt with it so fiercely that he stretched more +than one enemy dead at his feet, but it is needless to add that he was +soon dispatched.</p> + +<p>Meantime, while the party were concluding the plunder of the mansion, +the bride was left in a lonely apartment of the fortress. Without +wasting time in fruitless lamentation, she resolved to quit the life +which a few hours had made so desolate. She had almost succeeded in +hanging herself with a massive gold chain which she wore, when her +captor entered the apartment. Inflamed, not with lust, but with +avarice, excited not by her charms, but by her jewelry, he rescued her +from her perilous position. He then took possession of her chain and +the other trinkets with which her wedding-dress was adorned, and +caused her to be entirely stript of her clothing. She was then +scourged with rods till her beautiful body was bathed in blood, and at +last alone, naked, nearly mad, was sent back into the city. Here the +forlorn creature wandered up and down through the blazing streets, +among the heaps of dead and dying, till she was at last put out of her +misery by a gang of soldiers.</p> + +<p>Such are a few isolated instances, accidentally preserved in their +details, of the general horrors inflicted on this occasion. Others +innumerable have sunk into oblivion. On the morning of the 5th of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +November Antwerp presented a ghastly sight. The magnificent marble +town-house, celebrated as a "world's wonder," even in that age and +country, in which so much splendor was lavished on municipal palaces, +stood a blackened ruin—all but the walls destroyed, while its +archives, accounts, and other valuable contents had perished. The more +splendid portion of the city had been consumed, at least five hundred +palaces, mostly of marble or hammered stone, being a smoldering mass +of destruction. The dead bodies of those fallen in the massacre were +on every side, in greatest profusion around the Place de Meer, among +the Gothic pillars of the Exchange, and in the streets near the +town-house. The German soldiers lay in their armor, some with their +heads burned from their bodies, some with legs and arms consumed by +the flames through which they had fought. The Margrave Goswyn +Verreyck, the burgomaster Van der Meere, the magistrates Lancelot Van +Urselen, Nicholas Van Boekholt, and other leading citizens lay among +piles of less distinguished slain. They remained unburied until the +overseers of the poor, on whom the living had then more importunate +claims than the dead, were compelled by Roda to bury them out of the +pauper fund. The murderers were too thrifty to be at funeral charges +for their victims. The ceremony was not hastily performed, for the +number of corpses had not been completed. Two days longer the havoc +lasted in the city. Of all the crimes which men can commit, whether +from deliberate calculation or in the frenzy of passion, hardly one +was omitted, for riot, gaming, rape, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> had been postponed to the +more stringent claims of robbery and murder, were now rapidly added to +the sum of atrocities. History has recorded the account indelibly on +her brazen tablets; it can be adjusted only at the judgment-seat +above.</p> + +<p>Of all the deeds of darkness yet compassed in the Netherlands this was +the worst. It was called The Spanish Fury, by which dread name it has +been known for ages. The city, which had been a world of wealth and +splendor, was changed to a charnel-house, and from that hour its +commercial prosperity was blasted. Other causes had silently girdled +the yet green and flourishing tree, but the Spanish Fury was the fire +which consumed it to ashes. Three thousand dead bodies were discovered +in the streets, as many more were estimated to have perished in the +Scheld, and nearly an equal number were burned or destroyed in other +ways. Eight thousand persons undoubtedly were put to death. Six +millions of property were destroyed by the fire, and at least as much +more was obtained by the Spaniards.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> From Chapter I of the "The Rise of the Dutch Republic." +Published by Harper & Brothers. After his abdication Charles V retired +to a monastery, where he died three years later.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> See Prescott's account of the execution of Egmont and +Hoorne, in Volume IX of this collection.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> From Chapter XIX of the "History of the United +Netherlands." Published by Harper & Brothers. See Hume's account of +the arrival of the Armada in Volume IV, page 113, of this collection.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> Lord Howard of Effingham, commander of the English +fleet.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Sir Martin Frobisher, who in 1576 commanded an +expedition in search of the Northwest Passage, and discovered the bay +since called after him.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Sir John Hawkins at this time was a rear-admiral. He was +knighted after the defeat of the Armada.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> The Duke of Medina Sidonia, who commanded the Armada.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> From Part IV of Chapter V of "The Rise of the Dutch +Republic." Published by Harper & Brothers. The name "Spanish Fury" was given to the sack of Antwerp by the Spaniards.</p></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="RICHARD_HENRY_DANA_THE_YOUNGER" id="RICHARD_HENRY_DANA_THE_YOUNGER"></a>RICHARD HENRY DANA THE YOUNGER</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in Cambridge, Mass., in 1815; died in 1882; being in +ill health, shipped before the mast in 1834, making a voyage +to the Pacific, described in his book "Two Years Before the +Mast," published in 1840; one of the founders of the Free +Soil party in 1848; edited Wheaton's "Elements of +International Law," published in 1866.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_FIERCE_GALE_UNDER_A_CLEAR_SKY" id="A_FIERCE_GALE_UNDER_A_CLEAR_SKY"></a>A FIERCE GALE UNDER A CLEAR SKY<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></h2> + + +<p>We had been below but a short time before we had the usual +premonitions of a coming gale—seas washing over the whole forward +part of the vessel, and her bows beating against them with a force and +sound like the driving of piles. The watch, too, seemed very busy +trampling about decks and singing out at the ropes. A sailor can tell +by the sound what sail is coming in; and in a short time we heard the +top-gallant-sails come in, one after another, and then the flying jib. +This seemed to ease her a good deal, and we were fast going off to the +land of Nod, when—bang, bang, bang on the scuttle, and "All hands, +reef topsails, ahoy!" started us out of our berths, and it not being +very cold weather, we had nothing extra to put on, and were soon on +deck.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget the fineness of the sight. It was a clear and +rather a chilly night; the stars were twinkling with an intense +brightness, and as far as the eye could reach there was not <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>a cloud +to be seen. The horizon met the sea in a defined line. A painter could +not have painted so clear a sky. There was not a speck upon it. Yet it +was blowing great guns from the northwest. When you can see a cloud to +windward, you feel that there is a place for the wind to come from; +but here it seemed to come from nowhere. No person could have told +from the heavens, by their eyesight alone, that it was not a still +summer's night. One reef after another we took in the topsails, and +before we could get them hoisted up we heard a sound like a short +quick rattling of thunder, and the jib was blown to atoms out of the +bolt-rope. We got the topsails set, and the fragments of the jib +stowed away, and the foretopmast staysail set in its place, when the +great mainsail gaped open, and the sail ripped from head to foot. "Lay +up on that main yard and furl the sail, before it blows to tatters!" +shouted the captain; and in a moment we were up, gathering the remains +of it upon the yard. We got it wrapt round the yard, and passed +gaskets over it as snugly as possible, and were just on deck again, +when with another loud rent, which was heard throughout the ship, the +foretopsail, which had been double-reefed, split in two athwartships, +just below the reef-band, from earing to earing. Here again it +was—down yard, haul out reef-tackles, and lay out upon the yard for +reefing. By hauling the reef-tackles chock-a-block we took the strain +from the other earings, and passing the close-reef earing, and +knotting the points carefully, we succeeded in setting the sail, close +reefed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>We had but just got the rigging coiled up, and were waiting to hear +"Go below the watch!" when the main royal worked loose from the +gaskets, and blew directly out to leeward, flapping and shaking the +mast like a wand. Here was a job for somebody. The royal must come in +or be cut adrift, or the mast would be snapt short off. All the light +hands in the starboard watch were sent up one after another, but they +could do nothing with it. At length John, the tall Frenchman, the head +of the starboard watch (and a better sailor never stept upon a deck), +sprang aloft, and by the help of his long arms and legs succeeded +after a hard struggle—the sail blowing over the yard-arm to leeward, +and the skysail adrift directly over his head—in smothering it and +frapping it with long pieces of sinnet. He came very near being blown +or shaken from the yard several times, but he was a true sailor, every +finger a fish-hook. Having made the sail snug, he prepared to send the +yard down, which was a long and difficult job; for frequently he was +obliged to stop and hold on with all his might for several minutes, +the ship pitching so as to make it impossible to do anything else at +that height. The yard at length came down safe, and after it the fore +and mizzen royal yards were sent down. All hands were then sent aloft, +and for an hour or two we were hard at work, making the booms well +fast, unreefing the studding sail and royal and skysail gear, getting +rolling-ropes on the yard, setting up the weather breast-backstays, +and making other preparations for a storm. It was a fine night for a +gale, just cool and bracing enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> for quick work, without being +cold, and as bright as day. It was sport to have a gale in such +weather as this. Yet it blew like a hurricane. The wind seemed to come +with a spite, an edge to it, which threatened to scrape us off the +yards. The force of the wind was greater than I had ever felt it +before; but darkness, cold, and wet are the worst parts of a storm to +a sailor.</p> + +<p>Having got on deck again, we looked round to see what time of night it +was, and whose watch. In a few minutes the man at the wheel struck +four bells, and we found that the other watch was out and our own half +out. Accordingly, the starboard watch went below, and left the ship to +us for a couple of hours, yet with orders to stand by for a call.</p> + +<p>Hardly had they got below before away went the foretopmast staysail, +blown to ribbons. This was a small sail, which we could manage in the +watch, so that we were not obliged to call up the other watch. We laid +upon the bowsprit, where we were under water half the time, and took +in the fragments of the sail; and as she must have some headsail on +her, prepared to bend another staysail. We got the new one out into +the nettings; seized on the tack, sheets, and halyards, and the hanks; +manned the halyards, cut adrift the frapping-lines, and hoisted away; +but before it was half-way up the stay it was blown all to pieces. +When we belayed the halyards, there was nothing left but the +bolt-rope. Now large eyes began to show themselves in the foresail; +and knowing that it must soon go, the mate ordered us upon the yard to +furl it. Being unwilling to call up the watch, who had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> on deck +all night, he roused out the carpenter, sailmaker, cook, and steward, +and with their help we manned the foreyard, and after nearly half an +hour's struggle, mastered the sail and got it well furled round the +yard.</p> + +<p>The force of the wind had never been greater than at this moment. In +going up the rigging it seemed absolutely to pin us down to the +shrouds; and on the yard there was no such thing as turning a face to +windward. Yet there was no driving sleet and darkness and wet and cold +as off Cape Horn; and instead of stiff oilcloth suits, southwester +caps, and thick boots, we had on hats, round jackets, duck trousers, +light shoes, and everything light and easy. These things make a great +difference to a sailor. When we got on deck the man at the wheel +struck eight bells (four o'clock in the morning), and "All +starbowlines, ahoy!" brought the other watch up, but there was no +going below for us. The gale was now at its height, "blowing like +scissors and thumb-screws"; the captain was on deck; the ship, which +was light, rolling and pitching as tho she would shake the long sticks +out of her, and the sails were gaping open and splitting in every +direction. The mizzen-topsail, which was a comparatively new sail and +close reefed, split from head to foot in the bunt; the foretopsail +went in one rent from clew to earing, and was blowing to tatters; one +of the chain bobstays parted; the spritsailyard sprung in the slings, +the martingale had slued away off to leeward; and owing to the long +dry weather the lee rigging hung in large bights at every lurch. One +of the main-topgallant shrouds had parted; and to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> crown all, the +galley had got adrift and gone over to leeward, and the anchor on the +lee bow had worked loose and was thumping the side. Here was work +enough for all hands for half a day. Our gang laid out on the +mizzen-top-sailyard, and after more than half an hour's hard work +furled the sail, tho it bellied out over our heads, and again, by a +slat of the wind, blew in under the yard with a fearful jerk and +almost threw us off from the foot-ropes....</p> + +<p>It was now eleven o'clock, and the watch was sent below to get +breakfast, and at eight bells (noon), as everything was snug, altho +the gale had not in the least abated, the watch was set and the other +watch and idlers sent below. For three days and three nights the gale +continued with unabated fury, and with singular regularity. There were +no lulls, and very little variation in its fierceness. Our ship, being +light, rolled so as almost to send the fore yard-arm under water, and +drifted off bodily to leeward. All this time there was not a cloud to +be seen in the sky, day or night; no, not so large as a man's hand. +Every morning the sun rose cloudless from the sea, and set again at +night in the sea in a flood of light. The stars, too, came out of the +blue one after another, night after night, unobscured, and twinkled as +clear as on a still frosty night at home, until the day came upon +them. All this time the sea was rolling in immense surges, white with +foam, as far as the eye could reach, on every side; for we were now +leagues and leagues from shore.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> From "Two Years Before the Mast."</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HENRY_DAVID_THOREAU" id="HENRY_DAVID_THOREAU"></a>HENRY DAVID THOREAU</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in Concord, Mass., in 1817; died in 1862; graduated +from Harvard in 1837; taught school; practised surveying; +lived alone at Walden Pond in 1845-47; a friend of Emerson +and Alcott; imprisoned for refusal to pay a tax he believed +to be unjust; published "A Week on the Concord and Merrimac +Rivers" in 1849, and "Walden" in 1854; "Excursions" +published after his death, with a memoir, by Emerson, "The +Maine Woods" in 1864, "Cape Cod" in 1865; his "Journals" and +other works also published after his death.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_BUILDING_OF_HIS_HOUSE_AT_WALDEN_POND" id="THE_BUILDING_OF_HIS_HOUSE_AT_WALDEN_POND"></a>THE BUILDING OF HIS HOUSE AT WALDEN POND<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></h2> + +<p>When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived +alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had +built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, +and earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two +years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life +again....</p> + +<p>Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an ax and went down to the +woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house, +and began to cut down some tall arrowy white <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>pines, still in their +youth, for timber. It is difficult to begin without borrowing, but +perhaps it is the most generous course thus to permit your fellow men +to have an interest in your enterprise. The owner of the ax, as he +released his hold on it, said that it was the apple of his eye; but I +returned it sharper than I received it. It was a pleasant hillside +where I worked, covered with pine woods, through which I looked out on +the pond, and a small open field in the woods where pines and +hickories were springing up. The ice in the pond was not yet +dissolved, tho there were some open spaces, and it was all dark +colored and saturated with water. There were some slight flurries of +snow during the days that I worked there; but for the most part when I +came out on to the railroad, on my way home, its yellow sand heap +stretched away gleaming in the hazy atmosphere, and the rails shone in +the spring sun, and I heard the lark and pewee and other birds already +come to commence another year with us....</p> + +<p>I hewed the main timbers six inches square, most of the studs on two +sides only, and the rafters and floor timbers on one side, leaving the +rest of the bark on, so that they were just as straight and much +stronger than sawed ones. Each stick was carefully mortised or tenoned +by its stump, for I had borrowed other tools by this time. My days in +the woods were not very long ones; yet I usually carried my dinner of +bread and butter, and read the newspaper in which it was wrapt, at +noon, sitting amid the green pine boughs which I had cut off, and to +my bread was imparted some of their fragrance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> for my hands were +covered with a thick coat of pitch. Before I had done I was more the +friend than the foe of the pine-tree, tho I had cut down some of them, +having become better acquainted with it. Sometimes a rambler in the +wood was attracted by the sound of my ax, and we chatted pleasantly +over the chips which I had made....</p> + +<p>I dug my cellar in the side of a hill sloping to the south, where a +woodchuck had formerly dug his burrow, down through sumac and +blackberry roots, and the lowest stain of vegetation, six feet square +by seven deep, to a fine sand where potatoes would not freeze in any +winter. The sides were left shelving, and not stoned; but the sun +having never shone on them, the sand still keeps its place. It was but +two hours' work. I took particular pleasure in this breaking of +ground, for in almost all latitudes men dig into the earth for an +equable temperature. Under the most splendid house in the city is +still to be found the cellar where they store their roots as of old, +and long after the superstructure has disappeared posterity will +remark its dent in the earth. The house is still but a sort of porch +at the entrance of a burrow.</p> + +<p>At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of my +acquaintances, rather to improve so good an occasion for +neighborliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my +house. No man was ever more honored in the character of his raisers +than I. They are destined, I trust, to assist at the raising of +loftier structures one day. I began to occupy my house on the 4th of +July, as soon as it was boarded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> and roofed, for the boards were +carefully feather-edged and lapped, so that it was perfectly +impervious to rain; but before boarding I laid the foundation of a +chimney at one end, bringing two cartloads of stones up the hill from +the pond in my arms. I built the chimney after my hoeing in the fall, +before a fire became necessary for warmth, doing my cooking in the +meanwhile out-of-doors, on the ground, early in the morning; which +mode I still think is in some respects more convenient and agreeable +than the usual one. When it stormed before my bread was baked, I fixt +a few boards over the fire, and sat under them to watch my loaf, and +passed some pleasant hours in that way. In those days, when my hands +were much employed, I read but little, but the least scraps of paper +which lay on the ground, my holder, or tablecloth, afforded me as much +entertainment, in fact, answered the same purpose as the Iliad.</p> + +<p>Before winter I built a chimney, and shingled the sides of my house, +which were already impervious to rain, with imperfect and sappy +shingles made of the first slice of the log, which edges I was obliged +to straighten with a plane.</p> + +<p>I have thus a tight shingled and plastered house, ten feet wide by +fifteen long, and eight-feet posts, with a garret and a closet, a +large window on each side, two trap doors, one door at the end, and a +brick fireplace opposite. The exact cost of my house, paying the usual +price for such materials as I used, but not counting the work, all of +which was done by myself, was as follows; and I give the details +because very few are able to tell exactly what their houses cost, and +fewer still, if any, the separate cost of the various materials which +compose them:</p> + +<table class="tb1" summary=""> +<tr><td>Boards</td><td class="td1">$8.03-1/2</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Refuse shingles for roof and sides</td><td class="td1">4.00 </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Laths</td><td class="td1">1.25 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Two second-hand windows with glass</td><td class="td1">2.43 </td></tr> +<tr><td>One thousand old brick</td><td class="td1">4.00 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Two casks of lime (That was high)</td><td class="td1">2.40 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Hair (More than I needed)</td><td class="td1">0.31 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Mantle-tree iron</td><td class="td1">0.15 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Nails</td><td class="td1">3.90 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Hinges and screws</td><td class="td1">0.14 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Latch</td><td class="td1">0.10 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Chalk</td><td class="td1">0.01 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Transportation (I carried a good part on my +back)</td><td class="td1">1.40 </td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td >—————</td></tr> +<tr><td>In all</td><td class="td1">$28.12-1/2</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>These are all the materials excepting the timber, stones, and sand, +which I claimed by squatter's right. I have also a small woodshed +adjoining, made chiefly of the stuff which was left after building the +house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="HOW_TO_MAKE_TWO_SMALL_ENDS_MEET" id="HOW_TO_MAKE_TWO_SMALL_ENDS_MEET"></a>HOW TO MAKE TWO SMALL ENDS MEET<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></h2> + +<p>Before I finished my house, wishing to earn ten or twelve dollars by +some honest and agreeable method, in order to meet my unusual +expenses, I planted about two acres and a half of light and sandy soil +near it chiefly with beans, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>but also a small part with potatoes, +corn, peas, and turnips. The whole lot contains eleven acres, mostly +growing up to pines and hickories, and was sold the preceding season +for eight dollars and eight cents an acre. One farmer said that it was +"good for nothing but to raise cheeping squirrels on." I put no manure +whatever on this land, not being the owner, but merely a squatter, and +not expecting to cultivate so much again, and I did not quite hoe it +all once. I got out several cords of stumps in plowing, which supplied +me with fuel for a long time, and left small circles of virgin mold, +easily distinguishable through the summer by the greater luxuriance of +the beans there. The dead and for the most part unmerchantable wood +behind my house, and the driftwood from the pond, have supplied the +remainder of my fuel. I was obliged to hire a team and a man for the +plowing, tho I held the plow myself. My farm outgoes for the first +season were, for implements, seed, work, etc., $14.72-1/2. The seed +corn was given me. This never costs anything to speak of, unless you +plant more than enough. I got twelve bushels of beans, and eighteen +bushels of potatoes, besides some peas and sweet corn. The yellow corn +and turnips were too late to come to anything. My whole income from +the farm was</p> + + +<table class="tb2" summary=""> +<tr><td></td><td class="td1">$23.44 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Deducting the outgoes</td><td class="td1">14.72-1/2</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td class="td1">—————</td></tr> +<tr><td>There are left</td><td class="td1">$ 8.71-1/2</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p>besides produce consumed and on hand at the time this estimate was +made of the value of $4.50—the amount on hand much more than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +balancing a little grass which I did not raise. All things considered, +that is considering the importance of a man's soul and of to-day, +notwithstanding the short time occupied by my experiment, nay, partly +even because of its transient character I believe that that was doing +better than any farmer in Concord did that year.</p> + +<p>The next year I did better still, for I spaded up all the land which I +required, about a third of an acre, and I learned from the experience +of both years, not being in the least awed by many celebrated works on +husbandry, Arthur Young among the rest, that if one would live simply +and eat only the crop which he raised, and raise no more than he ate, +and not exchange it for an insufficient quantity of more luxurious and +expensive things, he would need to cultivate only a few rods of +ground, and that it would be cheaper to spade up that than to use oxen +to plow it, and to select a fresh spot from time to time than to +manure the old, and he could do all his necessary farm work as it were +with his left hand at odd hours in the summer; and thus he would not +be tied to an ox, or horse, or cow, or pig, as at present. I desire to +speak impartially on this point, and as one not interested in the +success or failure of the present economical and social arrangements. +I was more independent than any farmer in Concord, for I was not +anchored to a house or farm, but could follow the bent of my genius, +which is a very crooked one, every moment. Besides being better off +than they already, if my house had been burned or my crops had failed, +I should have been nearly as well off as before....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>By surveying, carpentry, and day-labor of various other kinds in the +village in the meanwhile, for I have as many trades as fingers, I had +earned $13.34. The expense of food for eight months, namely, from July +4th to March 1st, the time when these estimates were made, tho I lived +there more than two years—not counting potatoes, a little green corn, +and some peas, which I had raised, nor considering the value of what +was on hand at the last date, was</p> + + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td>Rice</td><td class="td1">$1.73-1/2</td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Molasses (Cheapest form +of the saccharine)</td><td class="td1">1.73 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Rye meal</td><td class="td1">1.04-3/4</td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Indian meal(Cheaper +than rye)</td> +<td class="td1">0.99-3/4</td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Pork</td><td class="td1">0.22 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Flour (Costs more than Indian meal, both money and trouble)</td><td class="td1">0.88 </td> +<td>}</td><td>All Experiments</td></tr> +<tr><td></td><td> </td> +<td>}</td><td>which had failed</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Sugar</td><td class="td1">0.80 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Lard</td><td class="td1">0.65 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Apples</td><td class="td1">0.25 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Dried apple</td><td class="td1">0.22 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Sweet potatoes</td><td class="td1">0.10 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>One pumpkin</td><td class="td1">0.06 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>One watermelon</td><td class="td1">0.02 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +<tr><td>Salt</td><td class="td1">0.03 </td> +<td>}</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Yes, I did eat $8.74, all told; but I should not thus unblushingly +publish my guilt, if I did not know that most of my readers were +equally guilty with myself, and that their deeds would look no better +in print. The next year I sometimes caught a mess of fish for my +dinner, and once I went so far as to slaughter a woodchuck which +ravaged my beanfield—effect his transmigration, as a Tartar would +say—and devour him, partly for experiment's sake; but tho it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +afforded me a momentary enjoyment, notwithstanding a musky flavor, I +saw that the longest use would not make that a good practise, however +it might seem to have your woodchucks ready drest by the village +butcher.</p> + +<p>Clothing and some incidental expenses within the same date, tho little +can be inferred from this item, amounted to</p> + +<table class="tb2" summary=""> +<tr><td></td><td class="td1">$8.40-3/4</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Oil and some household utensils</td><td class="td1">2.00 </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>So that all the pecuniary outgoes, excepting for washing and mending, +which for the most part were done out of the house, and their bills +have not yet been received—and these are all and more than all the +ways by which money necessarily goes out in this part of the +world—were</p> + +<table class="tb2" summary=""> +<tr><td>House</td><td class="td1">$28.12-1/2</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Farm, one year</td><td class="td1">14.72-1/2</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Food, eight months</td><td class="td1">8.74 </td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Clothing, etc., eight months</td><td class="td1">8.40-3/4</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Oil, etc., eight months</td><td class="td1">2.00 </td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td class="td1">————</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>In all</td><td class="td1">$61.99-3/4</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<p>I address myself now to those of my readers who have a living to get. +And to meet this I have for farm produce sold</p> + + +<table class="tb2" summary=""> +<tr><td></td><td class="td1">$23.44</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>Earned by day-labor</td><td class="td1">13.34</td> +</tr> +<tr><td></td><td class="td1">———</td> +</tr> +<tr><td>In all</td><td class="td1">$36.78</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<p>which subtracted from the sum of the outgoes leaves a balance of +$25.21-3/4 on the one side, this being very nearly the means with which I +started, and the measure of expenses to be incurred—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> on the +other, besides the leisure and independence and health thus secured, a +comfortable house for me as long as I choose to occupy it.</p> + +<p>These statistics, however accidental and therefore uninstructive they +may appear, as they have a certain completeness, have a certain value +also. Nothing was given me of which I have not rendered some account. +It appears from the above estimate that my food alone cost me in money +about twenty-seven cents a week. It was, for nearly two years after +this, rye and Indian meal without yeast, potatoes, rice, a very little +salt pork, molasses, and salt, and my drink water. It was fit that I +should live on rice, mainly, who loved so well the philosophy of +India. To meet the objections of some inveterate cavillers, I may as +well state that if I dined out occasionally, as I always had done, and +I trust shall have opportunities to do again, it was frequently to the +detriment of my domestic arrangements. But the dining out, being, as I +have stated, a constant element, does not in the least affect a +comparative statement like this.</p> + +<p>I learned from my two years' experience that it would cost incredibly +little trouble to obtain one's necessary food, even in this latitude; +that a man may use as simple a diet as the animals, and yet retain +health and strength. I have made a satisfactory dinner, satisfactory +on several accounts, simply off a dish of purslane (<i>Portulaca +Oleracea</i>) which I gathered in my cornfield, boiled and salted. I give +the Latin on account of the savoriness of the trivial name. And pray +what more can a reasonable man desire, in peaceful times, in ordinary +noons, than sufficient number<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> of ears of green sweet-corn boiled, +with the addition of salt? Even the little variety which I used was a +yielding to the demands of appetite, and not of health. Yet men have +come to such a pass that they frequently starve, not for want of +necessaries, but for want of luxuries; and I know a good woman who +thinks that her son lost his life because he took to drinking water +only.</p> + +<p>The reader will perceive that I am treating the subject rather from an +economic than a dietetic point of view, and he will not venture to put +my abstemiousness to the test unless he has a well-stocked larder.</p> + +<p>Bread I at first made of pure Indian meal and salt, genuine hoe-cakes, +which I baked before my fire out of doors on a shingle or the end of a +stick of timber sawed off in building my house; but it was wont to get +smoked and to have a piny flavor. I tried flour also; but have at last +found a mixture of rye and Indian meal most convenient and agreeable. +In cold weather it was no little amusement to bake several small +loaves of this in succession, tending and turning them as carefully as +an Egyptian his hatching eggs. They were a real cereal fruit which I +ripened, and they had to my senses a fragrance like that of other +noble fruits, which I kept in as long as possible by wrapping them in +cloths. I made a study of the ancient and indispensable art of +bread-making, consulting such authorities as offered, going back to +the primitive days and first invention of the unleavened kind, when +from the wildness of nuts and meats men first reached the mildness and +refinement of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> diet, and traveling gradually down in my studies +through that accidental souring of the dough, which, it is supposed, +taught the leavening process, and through the various fermentations +thereafter, till I came to "good, sweet, wholesome bread," the staff +of life.</p> + +<p>For more than five years I maintained myself thus solely by the labor +of my hands, and I found that by working about six weeks in a year, I +could meet all the expenses of living. The whole of my winters, as +well as most of my summers, I had free and clear for study. I have +thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that my expenses were in +proportion, or rather out of proportion, to my income, for I was +obliged to dress and train, not to say think and believe, accordingly, +and I lost my time into the bargain. As I did not teach for the good +of my fellow men, but simply for a livelihood, this was a failure. I +have tried trade; but I found that it would take ten years to get +under way in that, and that then I should probably be on my way to the +devil. I was actually afraid that I might by that time be doing what +is called a good business. When formerly I was looking about to see +what I could do for a living, some sad experience in conforming to the +wishes of friends being fresh in my mind to tax my ingenuity, I +thought often and seriously of picking huckleberries; that surely I +could do, and its small profits might suffice—for my greatest skill +has been to want but little—so little capital it required, so little +distraction from my wonted moods, I foolishly thought. While my +acquaintances went unhesitatingly into trade or the pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>fessions, I +contemplated this occupation as most like theirs; ranging the hills +all summer to pick the berries which came in my way, and thereafter +carelessly dispose of them; so to keep the flocks of Admetus. I also +dreamed that I might gather the wild herbs, or carry evergreens to +such villagers as loved to be reminded of the woods, even to the city, +by hay-cart loads. But I have since learned that trade curses +everything it handles; and tho you trade in messages from heaven, the +whole curse of trade attaches to the business....</p> + +<p>In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to +maintain one's self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if +we will live simply and wisely; as the pursuits of the simpler nations +are still the sports of the more artificial. It is not necessary that +a man should earn his living by the sweat of his brow, unless he +sweats easier than I do....</p> + +<p>The only house I had been the owner of before, if I except a boat, was +a tent, which I used occasionally when making excursions in the +summer, and this is still rolled up in my garret; but the boat, after +passing from hand to hand, has gone down the stream of time. With this +more substantial shelter about me, I had made some progress toward +settling in the world. This frame, so slightly clad, was a sort of +crystallization around me, and reacted on the builder. It was +suggestive as a picture in outlines. I did not need to go outdoors to +take the air, for the atmosphere within had lost none of its +freshness. It was not so much within doors as behind a door where I +sat, even in the rainiest weather.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> The Harivansa says, "An +abode-without birds is like a meat without seasoning." Such was not my +abode, for I found myself suddenly neighbor to the birds; not by +having imprisoned one, but having caged myself near them. I was not +only nearer to some of those which commonly frequent the garden and +the orchard, but to those wilder and more thrilling songsters of the +forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager, the wood-thrush, +the veery, the scarlet tanager, the field-sparrow, the whippoorwill, +and many others.</p> + +<p>I was seated by the shore of a small pond, about a mile and a half +south of the village of Concord, and somewhat higher than it, in the +midst of an extensive wood between that town and Lincoln, and about +two miles south of that our only field known to fame, Concord battle +ground; but I was so low in the woods that the opposite shore, half a +mile off, like the rest covered with wood, was my most distant +horizon. For the first week, whenever I looked out on the pond it +imprest me like a tarn high up on the side of a mountain, its bottom +far above the surface of other lakes, and, as the sun arose, I saw it +throwing off its mighty clothing of mist, and here and there, by +degrees, its soft ripples or its smooth reflecting surface were +revealed, while the mists, like ghosts, were stealthily withdrawing in +every direction into the woods, as at the breaking up of some +nocturnal conventicle. The very dew seemed to hang upon the trees +later into the day than usual, as on the sides of mountains.</p> + +<p>I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front +only the essential facts of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> life, and see if I could not learn what +it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not +lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; +nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. +I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so +sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to +cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and +reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, then to +get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to +the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be +able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, +it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is +of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is +the chief end of man here to "glorify God and enjoy Him forever."</p> + +<p>Still we live meanly, like ants; tho the fable tells us that we were +long ago changed into men; like pygmies we fight with cranes; it is +error upon error, and clout upon clout, and our best virtue has for +its occasion a superfluous and evitable wretchedness. Our life is +frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more +than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and +lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your +affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead +of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb +nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are +the clouds and storms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> and quicksands and thousand and one items to be +allowed for that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to +the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he +must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. +Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary, eat but one; instead +of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion.</p> + +<p>Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off +the track by every nutshell and mosquito's wing that falls on the +rails. Let us rise early and fast, or break fast, gently and without +perturbation; let company come and let company go, let the bells ring +and the children cry—determined to make a day of it. Why should we +knock under and go with the stream? Let us not be upset and +overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a dinner, +situated in the meridian shallows. Weather this danger and you are +safe, for the rest of the way is down hill. With unrelaxed nerves, +with morning vigor, sail by it, looking another way, tied to the mast +like Ulysses. If the engine whistles, let it whistle till it is hoarse +for its pains. If the bell rings, why should we run? We will consider +what kind of music they are like.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> +<h2>III</h2> +<h2><a name="ON_READING_THE_ANCIENT_CLASSICS" id="ON_READING_THE_ANCIENT_CLASSICS"></a>ON READING THE ANCIENT CLASSICS<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></h2> + +<p>The student may read Homer or Æschylus in the Greek without danger of +dissipation or luxuriousness, for it implies that he in some measure +emulates their heroes, and consecrates morning hours to their pages. +The heroic books, even if printed in the character of our mother +tongue, will always be in a language dead to degenerate times; and we +must laboriously seek the meaning of each word and line, conjecturing +a larger sense than common use permits out of that wisdom and valor +and generosity we have. The modern cheap and fertile press, with all +its translations, has done little to bring us nearer to the heroic +writers of antiquity. They seem as solitary, and the letter in which +they are printed as rare and curious as ever. It is worth the expense +of youthful days and costly hours, if you learn only some words of an +ancient language, which are raised out of the trivialness of the +street, to be perpetual suggestions and provocation. It is not in vain +that the farmer remembers and repeats the few Latin words which he has +heard. Men sometimes speak as if the study of the classics would at +length make way for more modern and practical studies; but the +adventurous student will always study classics, in whatever language +they may be written and however ancient they may be. For what are <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>the +classics but the noblest recorded thoughts of man? They are the only +oracles which are not decayed, and there are such answers to the most +modern inquiry in them as Delphi and Dodona never gave. We might as +well omit to study Nature because she is old.</p> + +<p>To read well, that is, to read true books in a true spirit, is a noble +exercise, and one that will tax the reader more than any exercise +which the customs of the day esteem. It requires a training such as +the athletes underwent, the steady intention almost of the whole life +to this object. Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as +they were written. It is not enough even to be able to speak the +language of that nation by which they are written, for there is a +memorable interval between the spoken and the written language, the +language heard and the language read. The one is commonly transitory, +a sound, a tongue, a dialect merely, almost brutish, and we learn it +unconsciously, like the brutes, of our mothers. The other is the +maturity and experience of that; if that is our mother tongue, this is +our father tongue, a reserved and select expression, too significant +to be heard by the ear, which we must be born again in order to speak. +The crowds of men who merely spoke the Greek and Latin tongues in the +Middle Ages were not entitled by the accident of birth to read the +works of genius written in those languages; for these were not written +in that Greek or Latin which they knew, but in the select language of +literature. They had not learned the nobler dialects of Greece and +Rome, but the very materials on which they were written were waste<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +paper to them, and they prized instead a cheap contemporary +literature. But when the several nations of Europe had acquired +distinct tho rude written languages of their own, sufficient for the +purposes of their rising literatures, then first learning revived, and +scholars were enabled to discern from that remoteness the treasures of +antiquity. What the Roman and Grecian multitude could not hear, after +the lapse of ages a few scholars read, and a few scholars only are +still reading it.</p> + +<p>However much we may admire the orator's occasional bursts of +eloquence, the noblest written words are commonly as far behind or +above the fleeting spoken language as the firmament with its stars is +behind the clouds. There are the stars, and they who can may read +them. The astronomers forever comment on and observe them. They are +not exhalations like our daily colloquies and vaporous breath. What is +called eloquence in the forum is commonly found to be rhetoric in the +study. The orator yields to the inspiration of a transient occasion, +and speaks to the mob before him, to those who can hear him; but the +writer, whose more equable life is his occasion, and who would be +distracted by the event and the crowd which inspire the orator, speaks +to the intellect and heart of mankind, to all in any age who can +understand him.</p> + +<p>No wonder that Alexander carried the Iliad with him on his expeditions +in a precious casket. A written word is the choicest of relics. It is +something at once more intimate with us and more universal than any +other work of art. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> is the work of art nearest to life itself. It +may be translated into every language, and not only be read but +actually breathed from all human lips; not be represented on canvas or +in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself. The +symbol of an ancient man's thought becomes a modern man's speech. Two +thousand summers have imparted to the monuments of Grecian literature, +as to her marbles, only a maturer golden and autumnal tint, for they +have carried their own serene and celestial atmosphere into all lands +to protect them against the corrosion of time. Books are the treasured +wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and +nations. Books, the oldest and the best, stand naturally and +rightfully on the shelves of every cottage. They have no cause of +their own to plead, but while they enlighten and sustain the reader +his common sense will not refuse them. Their authors are a natural and +irresistible aristocracy in every society, and, more than kings or +emperors, exert an influence on mankind. When the illiterate and +perhaps scornful trader has earned by enterprise and industry his +coveted leisure and independence, and is admitted to the circles of +wealth and fashion, he turns inevitably at last to those still higher +but yet inaccessible circles of intellect and genius, and is sensible +only of the imperfection of his culture, and the vanity and +insufficiency of all his riches, and further proves his good sense by +the pains which he takes to secure for his children that intellectual +culture whose want he so keenly feels; and thus it is that he becomes +the founder of a family.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>Those who have not learned to read the ancient classics in the +language in which they were written must have a very imperfect +knowledge of the history of the human race; for it is remarkable that +no transcript of them has ever been made into any modern tongue, +unless our civilization itself may be regarded as such a transcript. +Homer has never yet been printed in English, nor Æschylus, nor Virgil +even—works as refined, as solidly done, and as beautiful almost as +the morning itself; for later writers, say what we will of their +genius, have rarely, if ever, equaled the elaborate beauty and finish +and the lifelong and heroic literary labors of the ancients. They only +talk of forgetting them who never knew them. It will be soon enough to +forget them when we have the learning and the genius which will enable +us to attend to and appreciate them. That age will be rich, indeed, +when those relics which we call classics, and the still older and more +than classic but even less known scriptures of the nations, shall have +still further accumulated, when the Vaticans shall be filled with +Vedas and Zendavestas and Bibles, with Homers and Dantes and +Shakespeares, and all the centuries to come shall have successively +deposited their trophies in the forum of the world. By such a pile we +may hope to scale heaven at last.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> +<h2>IV</h2> +<h2><a name="OF_SOCIETY_AND_SOLITUDE" id="OF_SOCIETY_AND_SOLITUDE"></a>OF SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></h2> + +<p>When I return to my house I find that visitors have been there and +left their cards, either a bunch of flowers, or a wreath of evergreen, +or a name in pencil on a yellow walnut leaf or a chip. They who come +rarely to the woods take some little piece of the forest into their +hands to play with by the way, which they leave, either intentionally +or accidentally. One has peeled a willow wand, woven it into a ring, +and dropt it on my table. I could always tell if visitors had called +in my absence, either by the bended twigs or grass, or the print of +their shoes, and generally of what sex or age or quality they were by +some slight trace left, as a flower dropt, or a bunch of grass plucked +and thrown away, even as far off as the railroad, half a mile distant, +or by the lingering odor of a cigar or pipe. Nay, I was frequently +notified of the passage of a traveler along the highway sixty rods off +by the scent of his pipe....</p> + +<p>I have never felt lonesome, or in the least opprest by a sense of +solitude but once, and that was a few weeks after I came to the woods, +when, for an hour, I doubted if the near neighborhood of man was not +essential to a serene and healthy life. To be alone was something +unpleasant. But I was at the same time conscious of a slight insanity +in my mood, and seemed to foresee my <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>recovery. In the midst of a +gentle rain while these thoughts prevailed, I was suddenly sensible of +such sweet and beneficent society in nature, in the very pattering of +the drops and in every sound and sight around my house, an infinite +and unaccountable friendliness all at once like an atmosphere +sustaining me, as made the fancied advantages of human neighborhood +significant, and I have never thought of them since. Every little pine +needle expanded and swelled with sympathy and befriended me. I was so +distinctly made aware of the presence of something kindred to me, even +in scenes which we are accustomed to call wild and dreary, and also +that the nearest of blood to me and humanest was not a person, nor a +villager, that I thought no place could ever be strange to me +again....</p> + +<p>I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in +company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love +to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as +solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among +men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is +always alone, let him be where he will. Solitude is not measured by +the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows. The +really diligent student in one of the crowded hives of Cambridge +College is as solitary as a dervish in the desert. The farmer can work +alone in the field all day, hoeing or chopping, and not feel lonesome, +because he is employed; but when he comes home at night he can not sit +down in a room alone, at the mercy of his thoughts, but must be where +he can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> "see the folks," and recreate, and, as he thinks, remunerate +himself for his day's solitude; and hence he wonders how the student +can sit alone in the house all night and most of the day without ennui +and "the blues"; but he does not realize that the student, tho in the +house, is still at work in his field, and chopping in his woods, as +the farmer in his, and in turn seeks the same recreation and society +that the latter does, tho it may be a more condensed form of it.</p> + +<p>Society is commonly too cheap. We meet at very short intervals, not +having had time to acquire any new value for each other. We meet at +meals three times a day, and give each other a new taste of that old +musty cheese that we are. We have to agree on a certain set of rules, +called etiquette and politeness, to make this frequent meeting +tolerable and that we need not come to open war. We meet at the +post-office, and at the sociable, and about the fireside every night; +we live thick and are in each other's way, and stumble over one +another, and I think that we thus lose some respect for one another. +Certainly less frequency would suffice for all important and hearty +communications. Consider the girls in a factory—never alone, hardly +in their dreams. It would be better if there were but one inhabitant +to a square mile, as where I live. The value of a man is not in his +skin, that we should touch him.</p> + +<p>I have a great deal of company in my house; especially in the morning, +when nobody calls. Let me suggest a few comparisons, that some one may +convey an idea of my situation. I am no more lonely than the loon in +the pond that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> laughs so loud, or than Walden pond itself. What +company has that lonely lake, I pray? And yet it has not the blue +devils, but the blue angels in it, in the azure tint of its waters. +The sun is alone, except in thick weather, when there sometimes appear +to be two, but one is a mock sun. God is alone—but the devil, he is +far from being alone; he sees a great deal of company; he is legion. I +am no more lonely than a single mullein or dandelion in a pasture, or +a bean leaf, or sorrel, or a horse-fly, or a humble-bee. I am no more +lonely than the Mill brook, or a weathercock, or the north star, or +the south wind, or an April shower, or a January thaw, or the first +spider in a new house.</p> + +<p>I have occasional visits in the long winter evenings, when the snow +falls fast and the wind howls in the wood, from an old settler and +original proprietor, who is reported to have dug Walden pond, and +stoned it, and fringed it with pine woods; who tells me stories of old +time and of new eternity; and between us we manage to pass a cheerful +evening, with social mirth and pleasant views of things, even without +apples or cider; a most wise and humorous friend, whom I love much, +who keeps himself more secret than ever did Goffe or Whalley;<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> and +tho he is thought to be dead, none can show where he is buried. An +elderly dame, too, dwells in my neighborhood, invisible to most +persons, in whose odorous herb <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>garden I love to stroll sometimes, +gathering simples and listening to her fables; for she has a genius of +unequaled fertility, and her memory runs back farther than mythology, +and she can tell me the original of every fable, and on what fact +every one is founded, for the incidents occurred when she was young. A +ruddy and lusty old dame, who delights in all weathers and seasons, +and is likely to outlive all her children yet.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> From Chapter I of "Walden, or Life in the Woods."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> From Chapters I and II of "Walden."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> From Chapter III of "Walden."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> From Chapter IV of "Walden."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> The English regicides who came to America, and after +1660 lived in concealment in New England, a part of the time in a cave +near New Haven. William Goffe died in Hadley, Mass., in 1679. Edward +Whalley, who had been one of Cromwell's major generals, died also in +Hadley a year before Goffe.</p></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JAMES_RUSSELL_LOWELL" id="JAMES_RUSSELL_LOWELL"></a>JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1819, died in 1891; graduated from Harvard in 1838; +in 1855 became professor at Harvard; editor of <i>The Atlantic +Monthly</i> in 1857-62, <i>The North American Review</i> in 1863-72; +minister to Spain in 1877-80, and Great Britain in 1880-85; +published "A Year's Life" in 1841, "The Vision of Sir +Launfal" in 1845, "A Fable for Critics" in 1848, "The Biglow +Papers" in 1848, and a second series in 1867, "Under the +Willows" in 1868, "The Cathedral" in 1869; among his +best-known prose works, "Conversations on Some of the Old +Poets" published in 1845, "Fireside Travels" in 1864, "Among +My Books" in 1870 and 1876, "My Study Windows" in 1871; his +"Letters" edited by Charles Eliot Norton, published in 1893.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_POET_AS_PROPHET" id="THE_POET_AS_PROPHET"></a>THE POET AS PROPHET<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></h2> + +<p>Poets are the forerunners and prophets of changes in the moral world. +Driven by their fine nature to search into and reverently contemplate +the universal laws of the soul, they find some fragment of the broken +tables of God's law, and interpret it, half-conscious of its mighty +import. While philosophers are wrangling, and politicians playing at +snapdragon with, the destinies <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>of millions, the poet, in the silent +deeps of his soul, listens to those mysterious pulses which, from one +central heart, send life and beauty through the finest veins of the +universe, and utters truths to be sneered at, perchance, by +contemporaries, but which become religion to posterity. Not unwisely +ordered is that eternal destiny which renders the seer despised of +men, since thereby he is but the more surely taught to lay his head +meekly upon the mother-breast of Nature, and harken to the musical +soft beating of her bounteous heart.</p> + +<p>That Poesy, save as she can soar nearer to the blissful throne of the +Supreme Beauty, is of no more use than all other beautiful things are, +we are fain to grant. That she does not add to the outward wealth of +the body, and that she is only so much more excellent than any bodily +gift as spirit is more excellent than matter, we must also yield. But, +inasmuch as all beautiful things are direct messages and revelations +of himself, given us by our Father, and as Poesy is the searcher out +and interpreter of all these, tracing by her inborn sympathy the +invisible nerves which bind them harmoniously together, she is to be +revered and cherished. The poet has a fresher memory of Eden, and of +the path leading back thereto, than other men; so that we might almost +deem him to have been conceived, at least, if not borne and nursed, +beneath the ambrosial shadow of those dimly remembered bowers, and to +have had his infant ears filled with the divine converse of angels, +who then talked face to face with his sires, as with beloved younger +brethren, and of whose golden words<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> only the music remained to him, +vibrating forever in his soul, and making him yearn to have all sounds +of earth harmonize therewith. In the poet's lofty heart Truth hangs +her aerie, and there Love flowers, scattering thence her winged seeds +over all the earth with every wind of heaven. In all ages the poet's +fiery words have goaded men to remember and regain their ancient +freedom, and, when they had regained it, have tempered it with a love +of beauty, so as that it should accord with the freedom of nature, and +be as unmovably eternal as that. The dreams of poets are morning +dreams, coming to them in the early dawn and daybreaking of great +truths, and are surely fulfilled at last. They repeat them, as +children do, and all Christendom, if it be not too busy with +quarreling about the meaning of creeds, which have no meaning at all, +listens with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile of pitying +incredulity; for reformers are always madmen in their own age, and +infallible saints in the next.</p> + +<p>We love to go back to the writings of our old poets, for we find in +them the tender germs of many a thought which now stands like a huge +oak in the inward world, an ornament and a shelter. We can not help +reading with awful interest what has been written or rudely scrawled +upon the walls of this our earthly prison house, by former dwellers +therein. From that which centuries have established, too, we may draw +true principles of judgment for the poetry of our own day. A right +knowledge and apprehension of the past teaches humbleness and +self-sustainment to the present. Showing us what has been,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> it also +reveals what can be done. Progress is Janus-faced, looking to the +bygone as well as to the coming; and radicalism should not so much +busy itself with lopping off the dead or seeming dead limbs, as with +clearing away that poisonous rottenness around the roots, from which +the tree has drawn the principle of death into its sap. A love of the +beautiful and harmonious, which must be the guide and forerunner to +every onward movement of humanity, is created and cherished more +surely by pointing out what beauty dwells in anything, even the most +deformed (for there is something in that also, else it could not even +be), than by searching out and railing at all the foulnesses in +nature.</p> + +<p>Not till we have patiently studied beauty can we safely venture to +look at defects, for not till then can we do it in that spirit of +earnest love, which gives more than it takes away. Exultingly as we +hail all signs of progress, we venerate the past also. The tendrils of +the heart, like those of ivy, cling but the more closely to what they +have clung to long, and even when that which they entwine crumbles +beneath them, they still run greenly over the ruin, and beautify those +defects which they can not hide. The past as well as the present, +molds the future, and the features of some remote progenitor will +revive again freshly in the latest offspring of the womb of time. Our +earth hangs well-nigh silent now, amid the chorus of her sister orbs, +and not till past and present move harmoniously together will music +once more vibrate on this long silent chord in the symphony of the +universe.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_FIRST_OF_THE_MODERNS" id="THE_FIRST_OF_THE_MODERNS"></a>THE FIRST OF THE MODERNS<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></h2> + +<p>Dryden has now been in his grave nearly a hundred and seventy years; +in the second class of English poets perhaps no one stands, on the +whole, so high as he; during his lifetime, in spite of jealousy, +detraction, unpopular politics, and a suspicious change of faith, his +preeminence was conceded; he was the earliest complete type of the +purely literary man, in the modern sense; there is a singular +unanimity in allowing him a certain claim to greatness which would be +denied to men as famous and more read—to Pope or Swift, for example; +he is supposed, in some way or other, to have reformed English poetry. +It is now about half a century since the only uniform edition of his +works was edited by Scott. No library is complete without him, no name +is more familiar than his, and yet it may be suspected that few +writers are more thoroughly buried in that great cemetery of the +"British Poets."</p> + +<p>If contemporary reputation be often deceitful, posthumous fame may be +generally trusted, for it is a verdict made up of the suffrages of the +select men in succeeding generations. This verdict has been as good as +unanimous in favor of Dryden. It is, perhaps, worth while to take a +fresh observation of him, to consider him neither <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>as warning nor +example, but to endeavor to make out what it is that has given so +lofty and firm a position to one of the most unequal, inconsistent, +and faulty writers that ever lived. He is a curious example of what we +often remark of the living, but rarely of the dead—that they get +credit for what they might be quite as much as for what they are—and +posterity has applied to him one of his own rules of criticism, +judging him by the best rather than the average of his achievement, a +thing posterity is seldom wont to do. On the losing side in politics, +it is true of his polemical writings as of Burke's—whom in many +respects he resembles, and especially in that supreme quality of a +reasoner, that his mind gathers not only heat, but clearness and +expansion, by its own motion—that they have won his battle for him in +the judgment of after times.</p> + +<p>To us, looking back at him, he gradually becomes a singularly +interesting and even picturesque figure. He is, in more senses than +one, in language, in turn of thought, in style of mind, in the +direction of his activity, the first of the moderns. He is the first +literary man who was also a man of the world, as we understand the +term. He succeeded Ben Jonson as the acknowledged dictator of wit and +criticism, as Dr. Johnson, after nearly the same interval, succeeded +him. All ages are, in some sense, ages of transition; but there are +times when the transition is more marked, more rapid; and it is, +perhaps, an ill fortune for a man of letters to arrive at maturity +during such a period, still more to represent in himself the change +that is going on,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> and to be an efficient cause in bringing it about. +Unless, like Goethe, he is of a singularly uncontemporaneous nature, +capable of being <i>tutta in se romita</i>, and of running parallel with +his time rather than being sucked into its current, he will be +thwarted in that harmonious development of native force which has so +much to do with its steady and successful application. Dryden +suffered, no doubt, in this way. Tho in creed he seems to have drifted +backward in an eddy of the general current; yet of the intellectual +movement of the time, so far certainly as literature shared in it, he +could say, with Æneas, not only that he saw, but that himself was a +great part of it.</p> + +<p>That movement was, on the whole, a downward one, from faith to scepticism, +from enthusiasm to cynicism, from the imagination to the understanding. It +was in a direction altogether away from those springs of imagination and +faith at which they of the last age had slaked the thirst or renewed the +vigor of their souls. Dryden himself recognized that indefinable and +gregarious influence which we call nowadays the spirit of the age, when he +said that "every age has a kind of universal genius." He had also a just +notion of that in which he lived; for he remarks, incidentally, that "all +knowing ages are naturally sceptic and not at all bigoted, which, if I am +not much deceived, is the proper character of our own." It may be conceived +that he was even painfully half-aware of having fallen upon a time +incapable, not merely of a great poet, but perhaps of any poet at all; for +nothing is so sensitive to the chill of a skeptical atmosphere as that +enthusiasm which, if it be not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> genius, is at least the beautiful illusion, +that saves it from the baffling quibbles of self-consciousness. Thrice +unhappy he who, born to see things as they might be, is schooled by +circumstances to see them as people say they are—to read God in a prose +translation. Such was Dryden's lot, and such, for a good part of his days, +it was by his own choice. He who was of a stature to snatch the torch of +life that flashes from lifted hand to hand along the generations, over the +heads of inferior men, chose rather to be a link-boy to the stews....</p> + +<p>But at whatever period of his life we look at Dryden, and whatever, +for the moment, may have been his poetic creed, there was something in +the nature of the man that would not be wholly subdued to what it +worked in. There are continual glimpses of something in him greater +than he, hints of possibilities finer than anything he has done. You +feel that the whole of him was better than any random specimens, tho +of his best, seem to prove. <i>Incessu patet</i>, he has by times the large +stride of the elder race, tho it sinks too often into the slouch of a +man who has seen better days. His grand air may, in part, spring from +a habit of easy superiority to his competitors; but must also, in +part, be ascribed to an innate dignity of character. That this +preeminence should have been so generally admitted, during his life, +can only be explained by a bottom of good sense, kindliness, and sound +judgment, whose solid worth could afford that many a flurry of vanity, +petulance, and even error should flit across the surface and be +forgotten. Whatever else Dryden may have been,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> the last and abiding +impression of him is that he was thoroughly manly; and while it may be +disputed whether he was a great poet, it may be said of him, as +Wordsworth said of Burke, "that he was by far the greatest man of his +age, not only abounding in knowledge himself, but feeding, in various +directions, his most able contemporaries."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> +<h2><a name="OF_FAULTS_FOUND_IN_SHAKESPEARE" id="OF_FAULTS_FOUND_IN_SHAKESPEARE"></a>OF FAULTS FOUND IN SHAKESPEARE<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></h2> + +<p>Mr. Matthew Arnold seems to think that Shakespeare has damaged English +poetry. I wish he had! It is true he lifted Dryden above himself in +"All for Love"; but it was Dryden who said of him, by instinctive +conviction rather than judgment, that within his magic circle none +dared tread but he. Is he to blame for the extravagances of modern +diction, which are but the reaction of the brazen age against the +degeneracy of art into artifice, that has characterized the silver +period in every literature? We see in them only the futile effort of +misguided persons to torture out of language the secret of that +inspiration which should be in themselves. We do not find the +extravagances in Shakespeare himself. We never saw a line in any +modern <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>poet that reminded us of him, and will venture to assert that +it is only poets of the second class that find successful imitators. +And the reason seems to us a very plain one. The genius of the great +poet seeks repose in the expression of itself, and finds it at last in +style, which is the establishment of a perfect mutual understanding +between the worker and his material. The secondary intellect, on the +other hand, seeks for excitement in expression, and stimulates itself +into mannerism, which is the wilful obtrusion of self, as style is its +unconscious abnegation. No poet of the first class has ever left a +school, because his imagination is incommunicable; while, just as +surely as the thermometer tells of the neighborhood of an iceberg, you +may detect the presence of a genius of the second class in any +generation by the influence of his mannerism, for that, being an +artificial thing, is capable of reproduction. Dante, Shakespeare, +Goethe, left no heirs either to the form or mode of their expression; +while Milton, Sterne, and Wordsworth left behind them whole regiments +uniformed with all their external characteristics.</p> + +<p>We do not mean that great poetic geniuses may not have influenced +thought (tho we think it would be difficult to show how Shakespeare +had done so, directly and wilfully), but that they have not infected +contemporaries or followers with mannerism. The quality in him which +makes him at once so thoroughly English and so thoroughly cosmopolitan +is that aeration of the understanding by the imagination which he has +in common with all the greater poets, and which is the privilege of +genius. The modern school,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> which mistakes violence for intensity, +seems to catch its breath when it finds itself on the verge of natural +expression, and to say to itself, "Good heavens! I had almost +forgotten I was inspired!" But of Shakespeare we do not even suspect +that he ever remembered it. He does not always speak in that intense +way that flames up in Lear and Macbeth through the rifts of a soil +volcanic with passion. He allows us here and there the repose of a +commonplace character, the consoling distraction of a humorous one. He +knows how to be equable and grand without effort, so that we forget +the altitude of thought to which he has led us, because the slowly +receding slope of a mountain stretching downward by ample gradations +gives a less startling impression of height than to look over the edge +of a ravine that makes but a wrinkle in its flank.</p> + +<p>Shakespeare has been sometimes taxed with the barbarism of profuseness +and exaggeration. But this is to measure him by a Sophoclean scale. +The simplicity of the antique tragedy is by no means that of +expression, but is of form merely. In the utterance of great passions +something must be indulged to the extravagance of Nature; the subdued +tones to which pathos and sentiment are limited can not express a +tempest of the soul. The range between the piteous "no more but so," +in which Ophelia compresses the heartbreak whose compression was to +make her mad, and that sublime appeal of Lear to the elements of +nature, only to be matched, if matched at all, in the "Prometheus," is +a wide one, and Shakespeare is as truly simple in the one as in the +other. The simplicity of poetry is not that of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> prose, nor its +clearness that of ready apprehension merely. To a subtile sense, a +sense heightened by sympathy, those sudden fervors of phrase, gone ere +one can say it lightens, that show us Macbeth groping among the +complexities of thought in his conscience-clouded mind, and reveal the +intricacy rather than enlighten it, while they leave the eye darkened +to the literal meaning of the words, yet make their logical sequence +the grandeur of the conception, and its truth to nature clearer than +sober daylight could. There is an obscurity of mist rising from the +undrained shallows of the mind, and there is the darkness of +thunder-cloud gathering its electric masses with passionate intensity +from the clear element of the imagination, not at random or wilfully, +but by the natural processes of the creative faculty, to brood those +flashes of expression that transcend rhetoric, and are only to be +apprehended by the poetic instinct.</p> + +<p>In that secondary office of imagination, where it serves the artist, +not as the reason that shapes, but as the interpreter of his +conceptions into words, there is a distinction to be noticed between +the higher and lower mode in which it performs its function. It may be +either creative or pictorial, may body forth the thought or merely +image it forth. With Shakespeare, for example, imagination seems +immanent in his very consciousness; with Milton, in his memory. In the +one it sends, as if without knowing it, a fiery life into the verse,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sei die Braut das Wort,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bräutigam der Geist";<br /></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>in the other it elaborates a certain pomp and elevation. Accordingly, +the bias of the former is toward over-intensity, of the latter toward +over-diffuseness. Shakespeare's temptation is to push a willing +metaphor beyond its strength, to make a passion over-inform its +tenement of words; Milton can not resist running a simile on into a +fugue.</p> + +<p>One always fancies Shakespeare in his best verses, and Milton at the +keyboard of his organ. Shakespeare's language is no longer the mere +vehicle of thought; it has become part of it, its very flesh and +blood. The pleasure it gives us is unmixt, direct, like that from the +smell of a flower or the flavor of a fruit. Milton sets everywhere his +little pitfalls of bookish association for the memory. I know that +Milton's manner is very grand. It is slow, it is stately, moving as in +triumphal procession, with music, with historic banners, with spoils +from every time and every region, and captive epithets, like huge +Sicambrians, thrust their broad shoulders between us and the thought +whose pomp they decorate. But it is manner, nevertheless, as is proved +by the ease with which it is parodied, by the danger it is in of +degenerating into mannerism whenever it forgets itself. Fancy a parody +of Shakespeare—I do not mean of his words, but of his tone, for that +is what distinguishes the master. You might as well try it with the +Venus of Melos. In Shakespeare it is always the higher thing, the +thought, the fancy, that is preeminent; it is Cæsar that draws all +eyes, and not the chariot in which he rides, or the throng which is +but the reverberation of his supremacy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> If not, how explain the charm +with which he dominates in all tongues, even under the disenchantment +of translation? Among the most alien races he is as solidly at home as +a mountain seen from different sides by many lands, itself superbly +solitary, yet the companion of all thoughts and domesticated in all +imaginations.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IV</h2> +<h2><a name="AMERICANS_AS_SUCCESSORS_OF_THE_DUTCH" id="AMERICANS_AS_SUCCESSORS_OF_THE_DUTCH"></a>AMERICANS AS SUCCESSORS OF THE DUTCH<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></h2> + +<p>For more than a century the Dutch were the laughing-stock of polite +Europe. They were butter-firkins, swillers of beer and schnapps, and +their <i>vrouws</i> from whom Holbein painted the all but loveliest of +Madonnas, Rembrandt the graceful girl who sits immortal on his knee in +Dresden, and Rubens his abounding goddesses, were the synonyms of +clumsy vulgarity. Even so late as Irving the ships of the greatest +navigators in the world were represented as sailing equally well +stern-foremost. That the aristocratic Venetians should have</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Riveted with gigantic piles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thorough the center their new catchèd miles"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>was heroic. But the far more marvelous achievement <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>of the Dutch in +the same kind was ludicrous even to republican Marvell. Meanwhile, +during that very century of scorn, they were the best artists, +sailors, merchants, bankers, printers, scholars, jurisconsults, and +statesmen in Europe, and the genius of Motley has revealed them to us, +earning a right to themselves by the most heroic struggle in human +annals. But, alas! they were not merely simple burghers who had fairly +made themselves High Mightinesses, and could treat on equal terms with +anointed kings, but their commonwealth carried in its bosom the germs +of democracy. They even unmuzzled, at least after dark, that dreadful +mastiff, the Press, whose scent is, or ought to be, so keen for wolves +in sheep's clothing and for certain other animals in lions' skins. +They made fun of sacred majesty, and, what was worse, managed +uncommonly well without it. In an age when periwigs made so large a +part of the natural dignity of man people with such a turn of mind +were dangerous. How could they seem other than vulgar and hateful?</p> + +<p>In the natural course of things we succeeded to this unenviable +position of general butt. The Dutch had thriven under it pretty well, +and there was hope that we could at least contrive to worry along. And +we certainly did in a very redoubtable fashion. Perhaps we deserved +some of the sarcasm more than our Dutch predecessors in office. We had +nothing to boast of in arts or letters, and were given to bragging +overmuch of our merely material prosperity, due quite as much to the +virtue of our continent as to our own. There was some truth in +Carlyle's sneer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> after all. Till we had succeeded in some higher way +than this, we had only the success of physical growth. Our greatness, +like that of enormous Russia, was greatness on the map—barbarian mass +only; but had we gone down, like that other Atlantis, in some vast +cataclysm, we should have covered but a pin's point on the chart of +memory, compared with those ideal spaces occupied by tiny Attica and +cramped England. At the same time, our critics somewhat too easily +forgot that material must make ready the foundation for ideal +triumphs, that the arts have no chance in poor countries. But it must +be allowed that democracy stood for a great deal in our shortcoming. +The <i>Edinburgh Review</i> never would have thought of asking, "Who reads +a Russian book?" and England was satisfied with iron from Sweden +without being impertinently inquisitive after her painters and +statuaries. Was it that they expected too much from the mere miracle +of freedom? Is it not the highest art of a republic to make men of +flesh and blood, and not the marble ideals of such? It may be fairly +doubted whether we have produced this higher type of man yet. Perhaps +it is the collective, not the individual humanity that is to have a +chance of nobler development among us. We shall see. We have a vast +amount of imported ignorance, and, still worse, of native ready-made +knowledge, to digest before even the preliminaries of such a +consummation can be arranged. We have got to learn that statesmanship +is the most complicated of all arts, and to come back to the +apprenticeship system too hastily abandoned....</p> + +<p>So long as we continue to be the most common-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>schooled and the least +cultivated people in the world, I suppose we must consent to endure +this condescending manner of foreigners toward us. The more friendly +they mean to be the more ludicrously prominent it becomes. They can +never appreciate the immense amount of silent work that has been done +here, making this continent slowly fit for the abode of man, and which +will demonstrate itself, let us hope, in the character of the people. +Outsiders can only be expected to judge a nation by the amount it has +contributed to the civilization of the world; the amount, that is, +that can be seen and handled. A great place in history can only be +achieved by competitive examinations, nay, by a long course of them. +How much new thought have we contributed to the common stock? Till +that question can be triumphantly answered, or needs no answer, we +must continue to be simply interesting as an experiment, to be studied +as a problem, and not respected as an attained result or an +accomplished solution. Perhaps, as I have hinted, their patronizing +manner toward us is the fair result of their failing to see here +anything more than a poor imitation, a plaster-cast of Europe.</p> + +<p>Are they not partly right? If the tone of the uncultivated American +has too often the arrogance of the barbarian, is not that of the +cultivated as often vulgarly apologetic? In the America they meet with +is there the simplicity, the manliness, the absence of sham, the faith +in human nature, the sensitiveness to duty and implied obligation, +that in any way distinguishes us from what our orators call "the +effete civilization of the Old World"? Is there a politician<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> among us +daring enough (except a Dana<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> here and there) to risk his future on +the chance of our keeping our word with the exactness of superstitious +communities like England? Is it certain that we shall be ashamed of a +bankruptcy of honor, if we can only keep the letter of our bond? I +hope we shall be able to answer all these questions with a frank yes.</p> + +<p>At any rate, we would advise our visitors that we are not merely +curious creatures, but belong to the family of man, and that, as +individuals, we are not to be always subjected to the competitive +examination above mentioned, even if we acknowledged their competence +as an examining board. Above all, we beg them to remember that America +is not to us, as to them, a mere object of external interest to be +discust and analyzed, but in us, part of our very marrow. Let them not +suppose that we conceive of ourselves as exiles from the graces and +amenities of an older date than we, tho very much at home in a state +of things not yet all it might be or should be, but which we mean to +make so, and which we find both wholesome and pleasant for men (tho +perhaps not for <i>dilettanti</i>) to live in. "The full tide of human +existence"<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> may be felt here as keenly as Johnson felt it at +Charing Cross, and in a larger sense. I know one person who <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>is +singular enough to think Cambridge the very best spot on the habitable +globe. "Doubtless God could have made a better, but doubtless He never +did."</p> + +<p>It will take England a great while to get over her airs of patronage +toward us, or even passably to conceal them. She can not help +confounding the people with the country, and regarding us as lusty +juveniles. She has a conviction that whatever good there is in us is +wholly English, when the truth is that we are worth nothing except so +far as we have disinfected ourselves of Anglicism. She is especially +condescending just now, and lavishes sugar-plums on us as if we had +not outgrown them. I am no believer in sudden conversions, especially +in sudden conversions to a favorable opinion of people who have just +proved you to be mistaken in judgment and therefore unwise in policy. +I never blamed her for not wishing well to democracy—how should +she?—but <i>Alabamas</i> are not wishes. Let her not be too hasty in +believing Mr. Reverdy Johnson's<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> pleasant words. Tho there is no +thoughtful man in America who would not consider a war with England +the greatest of calamities, yet the feeling toward her here is very +far from cordial, whatever our minister may say in the effusion that +comes after ample dining. Mr. Adams,<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>with his famous "My Lord, +this means war," perfectly represented his country. Justly or not, we +have a feeling that we have been wronged, not merely insulted. The +only sure way of bringing about a healthy relation between the two +countries is for Englishmen to clear their minds of the notion that we +are always to be treated as a kind of inferior and deported Englishman +whose nature they perfectly understand, and whose back they +accordingly stroke the wrong way of the fur with amazing perseverance. +Let them learn to treat us naturally on our merits as human beings, as +they would a German or a Frenchman, and not as if we were a kind of +counterfeit Briton whose crime appeared in every shade of difference, +and before long there would come that right feeling which we naturally +call a good understanding. The common blood, and still more the common +language, are fatal instruments of misapprehension. Let them give up +trying to understand us, still more thinking that they do, and acting +in various absurd ways as the necessary consequence, for they will +never arrive at that devoutly-to-be-wished consummation till they +learn to look at us as we are and not as they suppose us to be. Dear +old long-estranged mother-in-law, it is a great many years since we +parted. Since 1660, when you married again, you have been a +step-mother to us. Put on your spectacles, dear madam. Yes, we have +grown, and changed likewise. You would not let us darken your doors, +if you could possibly help it.</p> + +<p>We know that perfectly well. But pray, when we look to be treated as +men, don't shake that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> rattle in our faces, nor talk baby to us any +longer.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Do, child, go to it grandam, child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> From an essay contributed to <i>The Pioneer</i> in 1843. +Lowell was the founder and editor of <i>The Pioneer</i>, Robert Carter +being his associate. The magazine lived only three months. Charles +Eliot Norton, the editor of Lowell's "Letters," says it "left its +projectors burdened with a considerable debt." "I am deeply in debt," +wrote Lowell afterward, when hesitating to undertake a journey, "and +feel a twinge for every cent I spend."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> From the first essay in the first series entitled "Among +My Books." Copyright, 1870, by James Russell Lowell. Published by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> From the essay entitled "Shakespeare Once Again," +printed in the first series entitled "Among My Books." Copyright, +1870, by James Russell Lowell. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> From the essay entitled "On a Certain Condescension in +Foreigners," printed in "From My Study Windows." Copyright, 1870, +1871, 1890, by James Russell Lowell. Published by Houghton, Mifflin +Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> The reference is to Richard Henry Dana, author of "Two +Years Before the Mast," who in 1876 was appointed by President Grant +minister to England, but failed of confirmation in the Senate, owing +to political intrigues due to his independence. Lowell appears to have +inserted this reference to Dana in an edition published subsequent to +the first, the date of the first being 1871.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> A remark of Dr. Johnson's as reported by Boswell.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> Reverdy Johnson of Maryland, Mr. Adams's successor as +minister to England, negotiated a settlement of the <i>Alabama</i> dispute, +which was unfavorably received in this country and finally rejected by +the Senate, which led to his recall in 1869.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> Charles Francis Adams, our minister to England from 1861 +to 1867, made this remark to a British cabinet minister at the time of +the threatened sailing of the Laird rams.</p></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHARLES_A_DANA" id="CHARLES_A_DANA"></a>CHARLES A. DANA</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1819, died in 1897; joined the Brook Farm Community +in 1842; an editor of the New York <i>Tribune</i> in 1847-62; +Assistant Secretary of War in 1863-64; became editor of the +New York <i>Sun</i> in 1868, remaining editor until his death; +published "A Household Book of Poetry" in 1857; joint editor +with George Ripley of the "American Encyclopedia."</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GREELEY_AS_A_MAN_OF_GENIUS" id="GREELEY_AS_A_MAN_OF_GENIUS"></a>GREELEY AS A MAN OF GENIUS<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></h2> + + +<p>Those who have examined the history of this remarkable man and who +know how to estimate the friendlessness, the disabilities, and the +disadvantages which surrounded his childhood and youth; the scanty +opportunities, or rather the absence of all opportunity, of education; +the destitution and loneliness amid which he struggled for the +possession of knowledge; and the unflinching zeal and pertinacity with +which he provided for himself the materials for intellectual growth, +will heartily echo the popular judgment that he was indeed a man of +genius, marked out from his cradle to inspire, animate, and instruct +others.</p> + +<p>From the first, when a child in his father's log cabin, lying upon the +hearth that he might read by the flickering firelight, his attention +was given almost exclusively to public and political affairs. This +determined his vocation as a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>journalist; and he seems never to have +felt any attraction toward any other of the intellectual professions. +He never had a thought of being a physician, a clergyman, an engineer, +or a lawyer. Private questions, individual controversies had little +concern for him except as they were connected with public interests. +Politics and newspapers were his delight, and he learned to be a +printer in order that he might become a newspaper maker. And after he +was the editor of a newspaper, what chiefly engaged him was the +discussion of political and social questions. His whole greatness as a +journalist was in this sphere. For the collection and digestion of +news, with the exception of election statistics, he had no great +fondness and no special ability. He valued talent in that department +only because he knew it was essential to the success of the newspaper +he loved. His own thoughts were always elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Accordingly there have been journalists who as such, strictly +speaking, have surpassed him. Minds not devoted to particular +doctrines, not absorbed in the advocacy of cherished ideas—in a word, +minds that believe little and aim only at the passing success of a +day—may easily excel one like him in the preparation of a mere +newspaper. Mr. Greeley was the antipodes of all such persons. He was +always absolutely in earnest. His convictions were intense; he had +that peculiar courage, most precious in a great man, which enables him +to adhere to his own line of action despite the excited appeals of +friends and the menaces of variable public opinion; and his constant +purpose was to assert his principles,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> to fight for them, and present +them to the public in the way most likely to give them the same hold +upon other minds which they had upon his own. In fact, he was not so +much a journalist, in the proper meaning of that term, as a +pamphleteer or writer of leading articles.</p> + +<p>In this sphere of effort he had scarcely an equal. His command of +language was extraordinary, tho he had little imagination and his +vocabulary was limited; but he possest the faculty of expressing +himself in a racy, virile manner, within the apprehension of every +reader. As he treated every topic in a practical rather than a +philosophical spirit, and with strong feeling rather than infallible +logic, so he never wrote above the heads of the public. What he said +was plain, clear, striking. His illustrations were quaint and homely, +sometimes even vulgar, but they never failed to tell. He was gifted +also with an excellent humor which greatly enlivened his writing. In +retort, especially when provoked, he was dangerous to his antagonist; +and tho his reasoning might be faulty, he would frequently gain his +cause by a flash of wit that took the public, and, as it were, hustled +his adversary out of court. But he was not always a victorious +polemic. His vehemence in controversy was sometimes too precipitate +for his prudence; he would rush into a fight with his armor +unfastened, and with only a part of the necessary weapons; and as the +late Washington Hunt<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> once exprest it, he could be more damaging to +his friends than to his opponents....</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>The occasional uncertainty of his judgment was probably due, in a +measure, to the deficiency of his education. Self-educated men are not +always endowed with the strong logical faculty and sure good sense +which are developed and strengthened by thorough intellectual culture. +Besides, a man of powerful intellect who is not regularly disciplined +is apt to fall into an exaggerated mental self-esteem from which more +accurate training and information would have preserved him. But the +very imperfection of Greeley's early studies had a compensation in the +fact that they left him, in all the tendencies and habits of his mind, +an American. No foreign mixture of thought or tradition went to the +composition of his strong intelligence. Of all the great men who have +become renowned on this side of the Atlantic he was most purely and +entirely the product of the country and its institutions. Accordingly, +a sturdy reliance on his own conclusions and a readiness to defy the +world in their behalf were among his most strongly marked +characteristics.</p> + +<p>But a kind of moral unsteadiness diminished his power. The miseries of +his childhood had left their trace in a querulous, lamentable, +helpless tone of feeling, into which he fell upon any little +misfortune or disappointment; and as he grew older he came to lack +hope.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> From an article printed in the New York <i>Sun</i>, December +5, 1872. Greeley had died November 29, of this year.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> Governor of New York in 1851-53, having been elected by +the Whigs.</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JAMES_PARTON" id="JAMES_PARTON"></a>JAMES PARTON</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1822, died in 1891; noted biographer and +miscellaneous writer; published "Life of Horace Greeley" in +1855, "Aaron Burr" in 1857, "Andrew Jackson" in 1860, +"Benjamin Franklin" in 1864, "Thomas Jefferson" in 1874, +"Voltaire" in 1881; author of several other books.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="AARON_BURR_AND_MADAME_JUMEL" id="AARON_BURR_AND_MADAME_JUMEL"></a>AARON BURR AND MADAME JUMEL<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></h2> + + +<p>In the year 1822 M. Jumel lost a considerable part of his fortune, and +madame returned alone to New York, bringing with her a prodigious +quantity of grand furniture and paintings. Retiring to a seat in the +upper part of Manhattan Island, which she possest in her own +right,<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> she began with native energy the task of restoring her +husband's broken fortunes. She cultivated her farm; she looked +vigilantly to the remains of the estate; she economized. In 1828, when +M. Jumel returned to the United States, they were not as rich as in +former days, but their estate was ample for all rational purposes and +enjoyments. In 1832 M. Jumel, a man of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>magnificent proportions, very +handsome, and perfectly preserved (a great waltzer at seventy), was +thrown from a wagon and fatally injured. He died in a few days. Madame +was then little past her prime.</p> + +<p>There was talk of cholera in the city. Madame Jumel resolved upon +taking a carriage tour in the country. Before setting out she wished +to take legal advice respecting some real estate, and as Colonel +Burr's reputation in that department was preeminent, to his office in +Reade street she drove. In other days he had known her well, and tho +many an eventful year had passed since he had seen her, he recognized +her at once. He received her in his courtliest manner, complimented +her with admirable tact, listened with soft deference to her +statement. He was the ideal man of business—confidential, +self-possest, polite—giving his client the flattering impression that +the faculties of his whole soul were concentrated upon the affair in +hand. She was charmed, yet feared him. He took the papers, named the +day when his opinion would be ready, and handed her to her carriage +with winning grace. At seventy-eight years of age, he was still +straight, active, agile, fascinating.</p> + +<p>On the appointed day she sent to his office a relative, a student of +law, to receive his opinion. This young gentleman, timid and +inexperienced, had an immense opinion of Burr's talents; had heard all +good and all evil of him; supposed him to be, at least, the acutest of +possible men. He went. Burr behaved to him in a manner so exquisitely +pleasing that, to this hour, he has the liveliest recollection of the +scene. No topic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> was introduced but such as were familiar and +interesting to young men. His manners were such as this age of slangy +familiarity can not so much as imagine. The young gentleman went home +to Madame Jumel only to extol and glorify him.</p> + +<p>Madame and her party began their journey, revisiting Ballston, +whither, in former times, she had been wont to go in a chariot drawn +by eight horses; visiting Saratoga, then in the beginning of its +celebrity, where, in exactly ten minutes after her arrival, the +decisive lady bought a house and all it contained. Returning to New +York to find that her mansion had been despoiled by robbers in her +absence, she lived for a while in the city. Colonel Burr called upon +the young gentleman who had been madame's messenger, and, after their +acquaintance had ripened, said to him, "Come into my office; I can +teach you more in a year than you can learn in ten in an ordinary +way." The proposition being submitted to Madame Jumel, she, anxious +for the young man's advancement, gladly and gratefully consented. He +entered the office. Burr kept him close at his books. He did teach him +more in a year than he could have learned in ten in an ordinary way. +Burr lived then in Jersey City. His office (23 Nassau street) swarmed +with applicants for aid, and he seemed now to have quite lost the +power of refusing. In no other respects, bodily or mental, did he +exhibit signs of decrepitude.</p> + +<p>Some months passed on without his again meeting Madame Jumel. At the +suggestion of the student, who felt exceedingly grateful to Burr<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> for +the solicitude with which he assisted in his studies, Madame Jumel +invited Colonel Burr to dinner. It was a grand banquet, at which he +displayed all the charms of his manner, and shone to conspicuous +advantage. On handing to dinner the giver of the feast, he said: "I +give you my hand, madame; my heart has long been yours." This was +supposed to be merely a compliment, and was little remarked at the +time. Colonel Burr called upon the lady; called frequently; became +ever warmer in his attentions; proposed, at length, and was refused. +He still plied his suit, however, and obtained at last, not the lady's +consent, but an undecided No. Improving his advantage on the instant, +he said, in a jocular manner, that he should bring out a clergyman to +Fort Washington on a certain day, and there he would once more solicit +her hand.</p> + +<p>He was as good as his word. At the time appointed, he drove out in his +gig to the lady's country residence, accompanied by Dr. Bogart, the +very clergyman who, just fifty years before, had married him to the +mother of his Theodosia. The lady was embarrassed, and still refused. +But then the scandal! And, after all, why not? Her estate needed a +vigilant guardian, and the old house was lonely. After much +hesitation, she at length consented to be drest, and to receive her +visitors. And she was married. The ceremony was witnessed only by the +members of Madame Jumel's family, and by the eight servants of the +household, who peered eagerly in at the doors and windows. The +ceremony over, Mrs. Burr ordered supper. Some bins of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> M. Jumel's +wine-cellar, that had not been opened for half a century, were laid +under contribution. The little party was a very merry one. The parson, +in particular, it is remembered, was in the highest spirits, +overflowing with humor and anecdote. Except for Colonel Burr's great +age (which was not apparent), the match seemed not an unwise one. The +lurking fear he had had of being a poor and homeless old man was put +to rest. She had a companion who had been ever agreeable, and her +estate a steward than whom no one living was supposed to be more +competent.</p> + +<p>As a remarkable circumstance connected with this marriage, it may be +just mentioned that there was a woman in New York who had aspired to +the hand of Colonel Burr, and who, when she heard of his union with +another, wrung her hands and shed tears! A feeling of that nature can +seldom, since the creation of man, have been excited by the marriage +of a man on the verge of fourscore.</p> + +<p>A few days after the wedding the "happy pair" paid a visit to +Connecticut, of which State a nephew of Colonel Burr was then +governor. They were received with attention. At Hartford Burr advised +his wife to sell out her shares in the bridge over the Connecticut at +that place, and invest the proceeds in real estate. She ordered them +sold. The stock was in demand, and the shares brought several thousand +dollars. The purchasers offered to pay her the money, but she said, +"No; pay it to my husband." To him, accordingly, it was paid, and he +had it sewed up in his pocket, a prodigious bulk, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> brought it to +New York, and deposited it in his own bank, to his own credit.</p> + +<p>Texas was then beginning to attract the tide of emigration which, a +few years later, set so strongly thither. Burr had always taken a +great interest in that country. Persons with whom he had been +variously connected in life had a scheme on foot for settling a large +colony of Germans on a tract of land in Texas. A brig had been +chartered, and the project was in a state of forwardness, when the +possession of a sum of money enabled Burr to buy shares in the +enterprise. The greater part of the money which he had brought from +Hartford was invested in this way. It proved a total loss. The time +had not yet come for emigration to Texas. The Germans became +discouraged and separated, and, to complete the failure of the scheme, +the title of the lands in the confusion of the times proved defective. +Meanwhile madame, who was a remarkably thrifty woman, with a talent +for the management of property, wondered that her husband made no +allusion to the subject of the investment; for the Texas speculation +had not been mentioned to her. She caused him to be questioned on the +subject. He begged to intimate to the lady's messenger that it was no +affair of hers, and requested him to remind the lady that she now had +a husband to manage her affairs, and one who would manage them.</p> + +<p>Coolness between the husband and wife was the result of this colloquy. +Then came remonstrances. Then estrangement. Burr got into the habit of +remaining at his office in the city. Then partial reconciliation. Full +of schemes and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> speculations to the last, without retaining any of his +former ability to operate successfully, he lost more money, and more, +and more. The patience of the lady was exhausted. She filed a +complaint accusing him of infidelity, and praying that he might have +no more control or authority over her affairs. The accusation is now +known to have been groundless; nor, indeed, at the time was it +seriously believed. It was used merely as the most convenient legal +mode of depriving him of control over her property. At first he +answered the complaint vigorously, but afterward he allowed it to go +by default, and proceedings were carried no further. A few short weeks +of happiness, followed by a few months of alternate estrangement and +reconciliation, and this union, that began not inauspiciously, was, in +effect, tho never in law, dissolved. What is strangest of all is that +the lady, tho she never saw her husband during the last two years of +his life, cherished no ill-will toward him, and shed tears at his +death. To this hour Madame Jumel thinks and speaks of him with +kindness, attributing what was wrong or unwise in his conduct to the +infirmities of age.</p> + +<p>Men of seventy-eight have been married before and since. But, +probably, never has there been another instance of a man of that age +winning a lady of fortune and distinction, grieving another by his +marriage, and exciting suspicions of incontinence against himself by +his attentions to a third!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> From the "Life of Burr."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> Still standing on an eminence near High Bridge and +popularly known as the Jumel House, tho it would more properly be +called the Morris House. It was built by Col. Roger Morris of the +British army after the old French war, his wife being Mary Philipse, +of Philipse Manor, a former sweetheart of Washington. During +Washington's sojourn in New York in 1776 it became his headquarters. +It is now owned by New York City and has become a museum of historical +relics.</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="FRANCIS_PARKMAN" id="FRANCIS_PARKMAN"></a>FRANCIS PARKMAN</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1823, died in 1893; graduated from Harvard in 1844; +studied law, but abandoned it for literature; his eyesight +so defective he was nearly blind; professor at Harvard in +1871-72; published his "Conspiracy of Pontiac" in 1851, +"Pioneers of France in the New World" in 1865, "Jesuits in +North America" in 1867, "La Salle and the Discovery of the +Great West" in 1869, "The Old Régime in Canada" in 1874, +"Count Frontenac" in 1877, "Montcalm and Wolfe" in 1884, "A +Half-Century of Conflict" in 1892.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="CHAMPLAINS_BATTLE_WITH_THE_IROQUOIS" id="CHAMPLAINS_BATTLE_WITH_THE_IROQUOIS"></a>CHAMPLAIN'S BATTLE WITH THE IROQUOIS<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></h2> + +<h3>(1609)</h3> +<p>It was ten o'clock in the evening when, near a projecting point of +land, which was probably Ticonderoga, they descried dark objects in +motion on the lake before them. These were a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>flotilla of Iroquois +canoes, heavier and slower than theirs, for they were made of oak +bark. Each party saw the other, and the mingled war-cries pealed over +the darkened water. The Iroquois, who were near the shore, having no +stomach for an aquatic battle, landed, and, making night hideous with +their clamors, began to barricade themselves. Champlain could see them +in the woods, laboring like beavers, hacking down trees with iron axes +taken from the Canadian tribes in war, and with stone hatchets of +their own making. The allies remained on the lake, a bowshot from the +hostile barricade, their canoes made fast together by poles lasht +across. All night they danced with as much vigor as the frailty of +their vessels would permit, their throats making amends for the +enforced restraint of their limbs. It was agreed on both sides that +the fight should be deferred till daybreak; but meanwhile a commerce +of abuse, sarcasm, menace, and boasting gave unceasing exercise to the +lungs and fancy of the combatants—"much," says Champlain, "like the +besiegers and besieged in a beleaguered town."</p> + +<p>As day approached, he and his two followers put on the light armor of +the time. Champlain wore the doublet and long hose then in vogue. Over +the doublet he buckled on a breastplate, and probably a back-piece, +while his thighs were protected by cuisses of steel, and his head by a +plumed casque. Across his shoulder hung the strap of his bandoleer, or +ammunition-box; at his side was his sword, and in his hand his +arquebus. Such was the equipment of this ancient Indian-fighter, whose +exploits date eleven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> years before the landing of the Puritans at +Plymouth, and sixty-six years before King Philip's War.</p> + +<p>Each of the three Frenchmen was in a separate canoe, and, as it grew +light, they kept themselves hidden, either by lying at the bottom, or +covering themselves with an Indian robe. The canoes approached the +shore, and all landed without opposition at some distance from the +Iroquois, whom they presently could see filing out of their barricade, +tall, strong men, some two hundred in number, the boldest and fiercest +warriors of North America. They advanced through the forest with a +steadiness which excited the admiration of Champlain. Among them could +be seen three chiefs, made conspicuous by their tall plumes. Some bore +shields of wood and hide, and some were covered with a kind of armor +made of tough twigs interlaced with a vegetable fiber supposed by +Champlain to be cotton.</p> + +<p>The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries for their +champion, and opened their ranks that he might pass to the front. He +did so, and, advancing before his red companions in arms, stood +revealed to the gaze of the Iroquois, who, beholding the warlike +apparition in their path, stared in mute amazement. "I looked at +them," says Champlain, "and they looked at me. When I saw them getting +ready to shoot their arrows at us, I leveled my arquebus, which I had +loaded with four balls, and aimed straight at one of the three chiefs. +The shot brought down two, and wounded another. On this, our Indians +set up such a yelling that one could not have heard a thunder-clap, +and all the while the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> arrows flew thick on both sides. The Iroquois +were greatly astonished and frightened to see two of their men killed +so quickly, in spite of their arrow-proof armor. As I was reloading, +one of my companions fired a shot from the woods, which so increased +their astonishment that, seeing their chiefs dead, they abandoned the +field and fled into the depth of the forest." The allies dashed after +them. Some of the Iroquois were killed, and more were taken. Camp, +canoes, provisions, all were abandoned, and many weapons flung down in +the panic flight. The victory was complete.</p> + +<p>At night the victors led out one of the prisoners, told him that he +was to die by fire, and ordered him to sing his death-song, if he +dared. Then they began the torture, and presently scalped their victim +alive, when Champlain, sickening at the sight, begged leave to shoot +him. They refused, and he turned away in anger and disgust; on which +they called him back and told him to do as he pleased. He turned again +and a shot from his arquebus put the wretch out of misery.</p> + +<p>The scene filled him with horror; but, a few months later, on the +Place de la Grève at Paris, he might have witnessed tortures equally +revolting and equally vindictive, inflicted on the regicide +Ravaillac<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> by the sentence of grave and learned judges.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_DEATH_OF_LA_SALLE" id="THE_DEATH_OF_LA_SALLE"></a>THE DEATH OF LA SALLE<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></h2> + +<h3>(1687)</h3> +<p>Night came; the woods grew dark; the evening meal was finished, and +the evening pipes were smoked. The order of the guard was arranged; +and, doubtless by design, the first hour of the night was assigned to +Moranget, the second to Saget, and the third to Nika. Gun in hand, +each stood watch in turn over the silent but not sleeping forms around +him, till, his time expiring, he called the man who was to relieve +him, wrapt himself in his blanket, and was soon buried in a slumber +that was to be his last. Now the assassins rose. Duhaut and Hiens +stood with their guns cocked, ready to shoot down any one of the +destined victims who should resist or fly. The surgeon, with an ax, +stole toward the three sleepers, and struck a rapid blow at each in +turn. Saget and Nika died with little movement; but Moranget started +spasmodically into a sitting posture, gasping and unable to speak; and +the murderers compelled De Marle, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>who was not in their plot, to +compromise himself by dispatching him.</p> + +<p>The floodgates of murder were open, and the torrent must have its way. +Vengeance and safety alike demanded the death of La Salle. Hiens, or +"English Jem," alone seems to have hesitated; for he was one of those +to whom that stern commander had always been partial. Meanwhile, the +intended victim was still at his camp, about six miles distant. It is +easy to picture, with sufficient accuracy, the features of the +scene—the sheds of bark and branches, beneath which, among blankets +and buffalo-robes, camp utensils, pack-saddles, rude harness, guns, +powder-horns, and bullet-pouches, the men lounged away the hour, +sleeping or smoking, or talking among themselves; the blackened +kettles that hung from tripods of poles over the fires; the Indians +strolling about the place or lying, like dogs in the sun, with eyes +half-shut, yet all observant; and, in the neighboring meadow, the +horses grazing under the eye of a watchman.</p> + +<p>It was the eighteenth of March. Moranget and his companions had been +expected to return the night before; but the whole day passed, and +they did not appear. La Salle became very anxious. He resolved to go +and look for them; but, not well knowing the way, he told the Indians +who were about the camp that he would give them a hatchet if they +would guide him. One of them accepted the offer; and La Salle prepared +to set out in the morning, at the same time directing Joutel to be +ready to go with him. Joutel says: "That evening, while we were +talking about what could have happened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> to the absent men, he seemed +to have a presentiment of what was to take place. He asked me if I had +heard of any machinations against them, or if I had noticed any bad +design on the part of Duhaut and the rest. I answered that I had heard +nothing, except that they sometimes complained of being found fault +with so often; and that this was all I knew, besides which, as they +were persuaded that I was in his interest, they would not have told me +of any bad design they might have. We were very uneasy all the rest of +the evening."</p> + +<p>In the morning La Salle set out with his Indian guide. He had changed +his mind with regard to Joutel, whom he now directed to remain in +charge of the camp and to keep a careful watch. He told the friar +Anastase Douay to come with him instead of Joutel, whose gun, which +was the best in the party, he borrowed for the occasion, as well as +his pistol. The three proceeded on their way—La Salle, the friar, and +the Indian. "All the way," writes the friar, "he spoke to me of +nothing but matters of piety, grace, and predestination; enlarging on +the debt he owed to God, who had saved him from so many perils during +more than twenty years of travel in America. Suddenly, I saw him +overwhelmed with a profound sadness, for which he himself could not +account. He was so much moved that I scarcely knew him." He soon +recovered his usual calmness; and they walked on till they approached +the camp of Duhaut, which was on the farther side of a small river. +Looking about him with the eye of a woodsman, La Salle saw two eagles +circling in the air nearly over him, as if attracted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> by carcasses of +beasts or men. He fired his gun and his pistol, as a summons to any of +his followers who might be within hearing. The shots reached the ears +of the conspirators.</p> + +<p>Rightly conjecturing by whom they were fired, several of them, led by +Duhaut, crossed the river at a little distance above, where trees or +other intervening objects hid them from sight. Duhaut and the surgeon +crouched like Indians in the long, dry, reed-like grass of the last +summer's growth, while L'Archeveque stood in sight near the bank. La +Salle, continuing to advance, soon saw him, and calling to him, +demanded where was Moranget. The man, without lifting his hat, or any +show of respect, replied in an agitated and broken voice, but with a +tone of studied insolence, that Moranget was strolling about +somewhere. La Salle rebuked and menaced him. He rejoined with +increased insolence, drawing back, as he spoke, toward the ambuscade, +while the incensed commander advanced to chastise him. At that moment, +a shot was fired from the grass, instantly followed by another; and, +pierced through the brain, La Salle dropt dead.</p> + +<p>The friar at his side stood terror-stricken, unable to advance or to +fly; when Duhaut, rising from the ambuscade, called out to him to take +courage, for he had nothing to fear. The murderers now came forward, +and with wild looks gathered about their victim. "There thou liest, +great Bashaw! There thou liest!" exclaimed the surgeon Liotot, in base +exultation over the unconscious corpse. With mockery and insult, they +stript it naked, dragged it into the bushes, and left it there, a prey +to buzzards and wolves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thus, in the vigor of his manhood, at the age of forty-three, died +Robert Cavelier de La Salle, "one of the greatest men," writes Tonty, +"of this age"; without question one of the most remarkable explorers +whose names live in history. His faithful officer Joutel thus sketches +his portrait: "His firmness, his courage, his great knowledge of the +arts and sciences, which made him equal to every undertaking, and his +untiring energy, which enabled him to surmount every obstacle, would +have won at last a glorious success for his grand enterprise, had not +all his fine qualities been counterbalanced by a haughtiness of manner +which often made him unsupportable, and by a harshness toward those +under his command which drew upon him an implacable hatred, and was at +last the cause of his death."</p> + +<p>The enthusiasm of the disinterested and chivalrous Champlain was not +the enthusiasm of La Salle, nor had he any part in the self-devoted +zeal of the early Jesuit explorers. He belonged not to the age of the +knight-errant and the saint, but to the modern world of practical +study and practical action. He was the hero, not of a principle nor of +a faith, but simply of a fixt idea and a determined purpose. As often +happens with concentered and energetic natures, his purpose was to him +a passion and an inspiration; and he clung to it with a certain +fanaticism of devotion. It was the offspring of an ambition vast and +comprehensive, yet acting in the interest both of France and of +civilization.</p> + +<p>Serious in all things, incapable of the lighter pleasures, incapable +of repose, finding no joy but in the pursuit of great designs, too shy +for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> society and too reserved for popularity, often unsympathetic and +always seeming so, smothering emotions which he could not utter, +schooled to universal distrust, stern to his followers and pitiless to +himself, bearing the brunt of every hardship and every danger, +demanding of others an equal constancy joined to an implicit +deference, heeding no counsel but his own, attempting the impossible +and grasping at what was too vast to hold—he contained in his own +complex and painful nature the chief springs of his triumphs, his +failures, and his death.</p> + +<p>It is easy to reckon up his defects, but it is not easy to hide from +sight the Roman virtues that redeemed them. Beset by a throng of +enemies, he stands, like the King of Israel, head and shoulders above +them all. He was a tower of adamant, against whose impregnable front +hardship and danger, the rage of man and of the elements, the southern +sun, the northern blast, fatigue, famine, and disease, delay, +disappointment, and deferred hope emptied their quivers in vain. That +very pride which, Coriolanus-like, declared itself most sternly in the +thickest press of foes, has in it something to challenge admiration. +Never, under the impenetrable mail of paladin or crusader, beat a +heart of more intrepid mettle than within the stoic panoply that armed +the breast of La Salle. To estimate aright the marvels of his patient +fortitude, one must follow on his track through the vast scene of his +interminable journeyings, those thousands of weary miles of forest, +marsh, and river, where, again and again, in the bitterness of baffled +striving, the untiring pilgrim pushed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> onward toward the goal which he +was never to attain. America owes him an enduring memory; for, in this +masculine figure, she sees the pioneer who guided her to the +possession of her richest heritage.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_COMING_OF_FRONTENAC_TO_CANADA" id="THE_COMING_OF_FRONTENAC_TO_CANADA"></a>THE COMING OF FRONTENAC TO CANADA<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a></h2> + +<h3>(1672)</h3> +<p>Count Frontenac came of an ancient and noble race, said to have been of +Basque origin. His father held a high post in the household of Louis XIII, +who became the child's godfather, and gave him his own name. At the age of +fifteen, the young Louis showed an uncontrollable passion for the life of a +soldier. He was sent to the seat of war in Holland, to serve under the +Prince of Orange. At the age of nineteen, he was a volunteer at the siege +of Hesdin; in the next year he was at Arras, where he distinguished himself +during a sortie of the garrison; in the next, he took part in the siege of +Aire; and, in the next, in those of Callioure and Perpignan. At the age of +twenty-three, he was made colonel of the regiment of Normandy, which he +commanded in repeated battles and sieges of the Italian campaign. He was +several times <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>wounded, and in 1646 he had an arm broken at the siege of +Orbitello. In the same year, when twenty-six years old, he was raised to +the rank of maréchal de camp, equivalent to that of brigadier-general. A +year or two later we find him at Paris, at the house of his father, on the +Quai des Célestins.</p> + +<p>In the same neighborhood lived La Grange-Trianon, Sieur de Neuville, a +widower of fifty, with one child, a daughter of sixteen, whom he had +placed in the charge of his relative, Madame de Bouthillier. Frontenac +fell in love with her. Madam de Bouthillier opposed the match, and +told La Grange that he might do better for his daughter than marry her +to a man who, say what he might, had but twenty thousand francs a +year. La Grange was weak and vacillating: sometimes he listened to his +prudent kinswoman, and sometimes to the eager suitor; treated him as a +son-in-law, carried love messages from him to his daughter, and ended +by refusing him her hand, and ordering her to renounce him on pain of +being immured in a convent. Neither Frontenac nor his mistress was of +a pliant temper. In the neighborhood was the little church of St. +Pierre aux Boeufs, which had the privilege of uniting couples without +the consent of their parents; and here, on a Wednesday in October, +1648, the lovers were married in presence of a number of Frontenac's +relatives. La Grange was furious at the discovery; but his anger soon +cooled, and complete reconciliation followed.</p> + +<p>The happiness of the newly wedded pair was short. Love soon changed to +aversion, at least on the part of the bride. She was not of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> tender +nature; her temper was imperious, and she had a restless craving for +excitement. Frontenac, on his part, was the most wayward and +headstrong of men. She bore him a son; but maternal cares were not to +her liking....</p> + +<p>At Versailles there is a portrait of a lady, beautiful and young. She +is painted as Minerva, a plumed helmet on her head, and a shield on +her arm. In a corner of the canvas is written Anne de La +Grange-Trianon, Comtesse de Frontenac. This blooming goddess was the +wife of the future governor of Canada.</p> + +<p>Madame de Frontenac, at the age of about twenty, was a favorite +companion of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, the grand-daughter of Henry +IV and a daughter of the weak and dastardly Gaston, Duke of Orleans. +Nothing in French annals has found more readers than the story of the +exploit of this spirited princess at Orleans during the civil war of +the Fronde. Her cousin Condé, chief of the revolt, had found favor in +her eyes; and she had espoused his cause against her cousin, the +King....</p> + +<p>In 1669, a Venetian embassy came to France to beg for aid against the +Turks, who for more than two years had attacked Candia in overwhelming +force. The ambassadors offered to place their own troops under French +command, and they asked Turenne to name a general officer equal to the +task. Frontenac had the signal honor of being chosen by the first +soldier of Europe for this most arduous and difficult position. He +went accordingly. The result increased his reputation for ability and +courage; but Candia was doomed, and its chief fortress fell into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> the +hands of the infidels, after a protracted struggle, which is said to +have cost them a hundred and eighty thousand men.</p> + +<p>Three years later Frontenac received the appointment of Governor and +Lieutenant-General for the King in all New France. "He was," says +Saint-Simon, "a man of excellent parts, living much in society, and +completely ruined. He found it hard to bear the imperious temper of +his wife and he was given the government of Canada to deliver him from +her, and afford him some means of living." Certain scandalous songs of +the day assign a different motive for his appointment. Louis XIV was +enamored of Madame de Montespan. She had once smiled upon Frontenac; +and it is said that the jealous King gladly embraced the opportunity +of removing from his presence and from hers a lover who had +forestalled him.</p> + +<p>Frontenac's wife had no thought of following him across the sea, a +more congenial life awaiting her at home....</p> + +<p>Frontenac was fifty-two years old when he landed at Quebec. If time +had done little to cure his many faults, it had done nothing to weaken +the springs of his unconquerable vitality. In his ripe middle age he +was as keen, fiery, and perversely headstrong as when he quarreled +with Prefontaine in the hall at St. Fargeau.</p> + +<p>Had nature disposed him to melancholy, there was much in his position +to awaken it. A man of courts and camps, born and bred in the focus of +a most gorgeous civilization, he was banished to the ends of the +earth, among savage hordes and half-reclaimed forests, to exchange the +splen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>dors of St. Germain and the dawning glories of Versailles for a +stern gray rock, haunted by somber priests, rugged merchants and +traders, blanketed Indians, and wild bushrangers. But Frontenac was a +man of action. He wasted no time in vain regrets, and set himself to +his work with the elastic vigor of youth. His first impressions had +been very favorable. When, as he sailed up the St. Lawrence, the basin +of Quebec opened before him, his imagination kindled with the grandeur +of the scene. "I never," he wrote, "saw anything more superb than the +position of this town. It could not be better situated as the future +capital of a great empire."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IV</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_DEATH_OF_ISAAC_JOGUES" id="THE_DEATH_OF_ISAAC_JOGUES"></a>THE DEATH OF ISAAC JOGUES<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></h2> + +<h3>(1646)</h3> +<p>Late in the autumn a party of the Indians set forth on their yearly +deer-hunt, and Jogues was ordered to go with them. Shivering and +half-famished, he followed them through the chill November forest, and +shared their wild bivouac in the depths of the wintry desolation. The +game <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>they took was devoted to Areskoui, their god, and eaten in his +honor. Jogues would not taste the meat offered to a demon; and thus he +starved in the midst of plenty. At night, when the kettle was slung, +and the savage crew made merry around their fire, he crouched in a +corner of the hut, gnawed by hunger, and pierced to the bone with +cold. They thought his presence unpropitious to their hunting, and the +women especially hated him. His demeanor at once astonished and +incensed his masters. He brought them fire-wood, like a squaw; he did +their bidding without a murmur, and patiently bore their abuse; but +when they mocked at his God, and laughed at his devotions, their slave +assumed an air and tone of authority, and sternly rebuked them.</p> + +<p>He would sometimes escape from "this Babylon," as he calls the hut, +and wander in the forest, telling his beads and repeating passages of +Scripture. In a remote and lonely spot he cut the bark in the form of +the cross from the trunk of a great tree; and here he made his +prayers. This living martyr, half-clad in shaggy furs, kneeling on the +snow among the icicled rocks and beneath the gloomy pines, bowing in +adoration before the emblem of the faith in which was his only +consolation and his only hope, is alike a theme for the pen and a +subject for the pencil....</p> + +<p>He remained two days, half-stifled, in this foul lurking-place,<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> +while the Indians, furious at his escape, ransacked the settlement in +vain to find him. They came off to the vessel, and so terrified the +officers that Jogues was sent on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>shore at night, and led to the fort. +Here he was hidden in the garret of a house occupied by a miserly old +man, to whose charge he was consigned. Food was sent to him; but, as +his host appropriated the larger part to himself, Jogues was nearly +starved. There was a compartment of his garret, separated from the +rest by a partition of boards. Here the old Dutchman, who, like many +others of the settlers, carried on a trade with the Mohawks, kept a +quantity of goods for that purpose; and hither he often brought his +customers. The boards of the partition had shrunk, leaving wide +crevices; and Jogues could plainly see the Indians, as they passed +between him and the light. They, on their part, might as easily have +seen him, if he had not, when he heard them entering the house, hidden +himself behind some barrels in the corner, where he would sometimes +remain crouched for hours, in a constrained and painful posture, +half-suffocated with heat, and afraid to move a limb. His wounded leg +began to show dangerous symptoms; but he was relieved by the care of a +Dutch, surgeon of the fort. The minister, Megapolensis, also visited +him, and did all in his power for the comfort of his Catholic brother, +with whom he seems to have been well pleased, and whom he calls "a +very learned scholar."</p> + +<p>When Jogues had remained for six weeks in this hiding-place, his Dutch +friends succeeded in satisfying his Indian masters by the payment of a +large ransom. A vessel from Manhattan, now New York, soon after brought up +an order from the Director-General, Kieft, that he should be sent to him. +Accordingly, he was placed in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> small vessel, which carried him down the +Hudson. The Dutch on board treated him with great kindness; and, to do him +honor, named after him one of the islands in the river. At Manhattan he +found a dilapidated fort, garrisoned by sixty soldiers, and containing a +stone church and the Director-General's house, together with storehouses +and barracks. Near it were ranges of small houses, occupied chiefly by +mechanics and laborers; while the dwellings of the remaining colonists, +numbering in all four or five hundred, were scattered here and there on the +island and the neighboring shores. The settlers were of different sects and +nations, but chiefly Dutch Calvinists. Kieft told his guest that eighteen +different languages were spoken at Manhattan. The colonists were in the +midst of a bloody Indian war, brought on by their own besotted cruelty; and +while Jogues was at the fort, some forty of the Dutchmen were killed on the +neighboring farms, and many barns and houses burned.</p> + +<p>The Director-General, with a humanity that was far from usual with +him, exchanged Jogues's squalid and savage dress for a suit of Dutch +cloth, and gave him passage in a small vessel which was then about to +sail....</p> + +<p>Jogues became a center of curiosity and reverence. He was summoned to +Paris. The Queen, Anne of Austria, wished to see him; and when the +persecuted slave of the Mohawks was conducted into her presence, she +kissed his mutilated hands, while the ladies of the court thronged +around to do him homage. We are told, and no doubt with truth, that +these honors were unwelcome to the modest and single-hearted +mis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>sionary, who thought only of returning to his work of converting +the Indians. A priest with any deformity of body is debarred from +saying mass. The teeth and knives of the Iroquois had inflicted an +injury worse than the tortures imagined, for they had robbed Jogues of +the privilege which was the chief consolation of his life; but the +Pope, by a special dispensation, restored it to him, and with the +opening spring he sailed again for Canada....</p> + +<p>In the evening—it was the eighteenth of October—Jogues, smarting +with his wounds and bruises, was sitting in one of the lodges, when an +Indian entered, and asked him to a feast. To refuse would have been an +offense. He arose and followed the savage, who led him to the lodge of +the Bear chief. Jogues bent his head to enter, when another Indian, +standing concealed within, at the side of the doorway, struck at him +with a hatchet. An Iroquois, called by the French Le Berger, who seems +to have followed in order to defend him, bravely held out his arm to +ward off the blow; but the hatchet cut through it, and sank into the +missionary's brain. He fell at the feet of his murderer, who at once +finished the work by hacking off his head. Lalande was left in +suspense all night, and in the morning was killed in a similar manner. +The bodies of the two Frenchmen were then thrown into the Mohawk, and +their heads displayed on the points of the palisade which enclosed the +town.</p> + +<p>Thus died Isaac Jogues, one of the purest examples of Roman Catholic +virtue which this western continent has seen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> +<h2>V</h2> +<h2><a name="WHY_NEW_FRANCE_FAILED" id="WHY_NEW_FRANCE_FAILED"></a>WHY NEW FRANCE FAILED<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></h2> + +<p>New France was all head. Under king, noble, and Jesuit, the lank, lean +body would not thrive. Even commerce wore the sword, decked itself +with badges of nobility, aspired to forest seigniories and hordes of +savage retainers. Along the borders of the sea an adverse power was +strengthening and widening, with slow but stedfast growth, full of +blood and muscle—a body without a head. Each had its strength, each +its weakness, each its own modes of vigorous life: but the one was +fruitful, the other barren; the one instinct with hope, the other +darkening with shadows of despair.</p> + +<p>By name, local position, and character one of these communities of +freemen stands forth as the most conspicuous representative of this +antagonism—liberty and absolutism, New England and New France. The +one was the offspring of a triumphant government; the other, of an +opprest and fugitive people: the one, an unflinching champion of the +Roman Catholic reaction; the other, a vanguard of the Reform. Each +followed its natural laws of growth, and each came to its natural +results. Vitalized by the principles of its foundation, the Puritan +commonwealth <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>grew apace. New England was preeminently the land of +material progress. Here the prize was within every man's reach; +patient industry need never doubt its reward; nay, in defiance of the +four gospels, assiduity in pursuit of gain was promoted to the rank of +a duty, and thrift and godliness were linked in equivocal wedlock. +Politically she was free; socially she suffered from that subtile and +searching oppression which the dominant opinion of a free community +may exercise over the members who compose it. As a whole, she grew +upon the gaze of the world, a signal example of expansive energy; but +she has not been fruitful in those salient and striking forms of +character which often give a dramatic life to the annals of nations +far less prosperous.</p> + +<p>We turn to New France, and all is reversed. Here was a bold attempt to +crush under the exactions of a grasping hierarchy, to stifle under the +curbs and trappings of a feudal monarchy a people compassed by +influences of the wildest freedom—whose schools were the forest and +the sea, whose trade was an armed barter with savages, and whose daily +life a lesson of lawless independence. But this fierce spirit had its +vent. The story of New France is from the first a story of war: of +war—for so her founders believed—with the adversary of mankind +himself; war with savage tribes and potent forest commonwealths; war +with the encroaching powers of heresy and of England. Her brave, +unthinking people were stamped with the soldier's virtues and the +soldier's faults; and in their leaders were displayed, on a grand and +novel stage, the energies, aspirations, and passions which belong to +hopes vast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> and vague, ill-restricted powers, and stations of command.</p> + +<p>The growth of New England was a result of the aggregate efforts of a +busy multitude, each in his narrow circle toiling for himself, to +gather competence or wealth. The expansion of New France was the +achievement of a gigantic ambition striving to grasp a continent. It +was a vain attempt. Long and valiantly her chiefs upheld their cause, +leading to battle a vassal population, warlike as themselves. Borne +down by numbers from without, wasted by corruption from within, New +France fell at last; and out of her fall grew revolutions whose +influence to this hour is felt through every nation of the civilized +world.</p> + +<p>The French dominion is a memory of the past; and when we evoke its +departed shades, they rise upon us from their graves in strange, +romantic guise. Again their ghostly camp-fires seem to burn, and the +fitful light is cast around on lord and vassal and black-robed priest, +mingled with wild forms of savage warriors, knit in close fellowship +on the same stern errand. A boundless vision grows upon us; an untamed +continent; vast wastes of forest verdure; mountains silent in primeval +sleep; river, lake, and glimmering pool; wilderness oceans mingling +with the sky. Such was the domain which France conquered for +civilization. Plumed helmets gleamed in the shade of its forests, +priestly vestments in its dens and fastnesses of ancient barbarism. +Men steeped in antique learning, pale with the close breath of the +cloister, here spent the noon and evening of their lives, ruled savage +hordes with a mild, parental sway, and stood serene before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> the direst +shapes of death. Men of courtly nurture, heirs to the polish of a +far-reaching ancestry, here, with their dauntless hardihood, put to +shame the boldest sons of toil.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VI</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_RETURN_OF_THE_COUREURS-DE-BOIS" id="THE_RETURN_OF_THE_COUREURS-DE-BOIS"></a>THE RETURN OF THE COUREURS-DE-BOIS<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></h2> + +<p>It was a curious scene when a party of <i>coureurs de bois</i> returned +from their rovings. Montreal was their harboring place, and they +conducted themselves much like the crew of a man-of-war paid off after +a long voyage. As long as their beaver-skins lasted, they set no +bounds to their riot. Every house in the place, we are told, was +turned into a drinking-shop. The newcomers were bedizened with a +strange mixture of French and Indian finery; while some of them, with +instincts more thoroughly savage, stalked about the streets as naked +as a Pottawottamie or a Sioux. The clamor of tongues was prodigious, +and gambling and drinking filled the day and the night. When at last +they were sober again, they sought absolution for their sins; nor +could the priests venture to bear too hard on their unruly penitents, +lest they should break wholly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>with the church and dispense +thenceforth with her sacraments.</p> + +<p>Under such leaders as Du Lhut, the <i>coureurs de bois</i> built forts of +palisades at various points throughout the West and Northwest. They +had a post of this sort at Detroit some time before its permanent +settlement, as well as others on Lake Superior and in the valley of +the Mississippi. They occupied them as long as it suited their +purposes, and then abandoned them to the next comer. Michillimackinac +was, however, their chief resort; and thence they would set out, two +or three together, to roam for hundreds of miles through the endless +meshwork of interlocking lakes and rivers which seams the northern +wilderness.</p> + +<p>No wonder that a year or two of bushranging spoiled them for +civilization. Tho not a very valuable member of society, and tho a +thorn in the side of princes and rulers, the <i>coureur de bois</i> had his +uses, at least from an artistic point of view; and his strange figure, +sometimes brutally savage, but oftener marked with the lines of a +daredevil courage, and a reckless, thoughtless gaiety, will always be +joined to the memories of that grand world of woods which the +nineteenth century is fast civilizing out of existence. At least, he +is picturesque, and with his redskin companion serves to animate +forest scenery. Perhaps he could sometimes feel, without knowing that +he felt them, the charms of the savage nature that had adopted him.</p> + +<p>Rude as he was, her voice may not always have been meaningless for one +who knew her haunts so well; deep recesses where, veiled in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> foliage, +some wild shy rivulet steals with timid music through breathless caves +of verdure; gulfs where feathered crags rise like castle walls, where +the noonday sun pierces with keen rays athwart the torrent, and the +mossed arms of fallen pines cast wavering shadows on the illumined +foam; pools of liquid crystal turned emerald in the reflected green of +impending woods; rocks on whose rugged front the gleam of sunlit +waters dances in quivering light; ancient trees hurled headlong by the +storm to dam the raging stream with their forlorn and savage ruin; or +the stern depths of immemorial forests, dim and silent as a cavern, +columned with innumerable trunks, each like an Atlas upholding its +world of leaves, and sweating perpetual moisture down its dark and +channelled rind; some strong in youth, some grisly with decrepit age, +nightmares of strange distortion, gnarled and knotted with wens and +goitres; roots intertwined beneath like serpents petrified in an agony +of contorted strife; green and glistening mosses carpeting the rough +ground, mantling the rocks, turning pulpy stumps to mounds of verdure, +and swathing fallen trunks as, bent in the impotence of rottenness, +they lie outstretched over knoll and hollow, like moldering reptiles +of the primeval world, while around, and on and through them, springs +the young growth that fattens on their decay—the forest devouring its +own dead. Or, to turn from its funereal shade to the light and life of +the open woodland, the sheen of sparkling lakes, and mountains basking +in the glory of the summer noon, flecked by the shadows of passing +clouds that sail on snowy wings across the azure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>Yet it would be false coloring to paint the half-savage <i>coureur de +bois</i> as a romantic lover of nature. He liked the woods because they +emancipated him from restraint. He liked the lounging ease of the +camp-fire, and the license of Indian villages. His life has a dark and +ugly side.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> From Chapter X of "The Pioneers of France in the New +World." Copyright, 1865, by Francis Parkman. Published by Little, +Brown & Co. It may be noted here that one of the most remarkable +coincidences in the history of exploration is the fact that, at the +time of this battle between Champlain and the Iroquois, Henry Hudson +was ascending the river that bears his name. Hudson went as far as the +site of Albany. The two explorers, therefore, at the same time had +reached points distant from each other only about one hundred miles, +and yet each was unaware of the other's presence. Champlain and Hudson +represented the opposing forces in race and system of government +which, from that time until the death of Montcalm at Quebec, were to +contend for mastery of the North American continent.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> Ravaillac, a religious fanatic, was the assassin of +Henry IV of France. After climbing on to the rear of the King's +carriage in one of the streets of Paris, he stabbed the King twice, +the second wound proving fatal. Ravaillac met his death by being torn +asunder by horses.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> From Chapter XXVII of "La Salle and the Discovery of the +Great West." La Salle was assassinated by some of his own men, near a +branch of the Trinity river in Texas. He had sailed from France in +1684 for the purpose of founding a colony at the mouth of the +Mississippi, and had landed at Matagorda Bay, mistaking it for an +outlet of the Mississippi. He was about to sail for Canada in order to +get supplies for his colony, when he met the fate here described. +Copyright, 1860, 1879, 1897, by Francis Parkman, published by Little, +Brown & Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> From Chapters I and II of "Count Frontenac and New +France Under Louis XIV." Copyright, 1877, by Francis Parkman. +Published by Little, Brown & Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> From Chapters XVI and XX of "The Jesuits in North +America." Copyright, 1867, 1895, by Francis Parkman. Published by +Little, Brown & Company. The site of Jogues's martyrdom is near +Auriesville in the Mohawk valley, where a memorial chapel in his honor +is now maintained, the Rev. John J. Wynne, S. J., having been active +in securing and maintaining it.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> Near Albany, or Fort Orange, as it was then called.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> From the introduction to "The Pioneers of France in the +New World." Copyright, 1865, 1885, by Francis Parkman. Published by +Little, Brown & Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> From Chapter XVII of "The Old Régime in Canada." +Copyright, 1874, by Francis Parkman. Published by Little, Brown & Co.</p></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GEORGE_WILLIAM_CURTIS" id="GEORGE_WILLIAM_CURTIS"></a>GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1824, died in 1892; joined the Brook Farm Community; +traveled in Europe in 1846-50; became connected with the New +York <i>Tribune</i> in 1850; editor of <i>Putnam's Monthly</i> in +1852-57, with <i>Harper's Magazine</i> in 1854, and with +<i>Harper's Weekly</i> in 1863; prominent advocate of civil +service reform, being one of the commissioners appointed by +President Grant in 1871, but resigned on account of +differences with the President; president of the State Civil +Service League in 1880, and of the National Civil Service +Reform League afterward until his death; published "Nile +Notes of a Howadji" in 1851, "Lotus Eating" in 1852, +"Potiphar Papers" in 1853, "Prue and I" in 1856.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="OUR_COUSIN_THE_CURATE" id="OUR_COUSIN_THE_CURATE"></a>OUR COUSIN THE CURATE<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></h2> + + +<p>Our cousin the curate loved, while he was yet a boy, Flora, of the +sparkling eyes and the ringing voice. His devotion was absolute. Flora +was flattered, because all the girls, as I said, worshiped him; but +she was a gay, glancing girl, who had invaded the student's heart with +her audacious brilliancy, and was half-surprized that she had subdued +it. Our cousin—for I never think of him as my cousin only—wasted +away under the fervor of his passion. His life exhaled an incense +before her. He wrote poems to her, and sang them under her window, in +the summer moonlight. He brought her flowers and precious gifts. When +he had nothing else to give, he gave her his love in a homage so +eloquent and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>beautiful that the worship was like the worship of the +wise men. The gay Flora was proud and superb. She was a girl, and the +bravest and best boy loved her. She was young, and the wisest and +truest youth loved her. They lived together, we all lived together, in +the happy valley of childhood. We looked forward to manhood as +island-poets look across the sea, believing that the whole world +beyond is a blest Araby of spices.</p> + +<p>The months went by, and the young love continued. Our cousin and Flora +were only children still, and there was no engagement. The elders +looked upon the intimacy as natural and mutually beneficial. It would +help soften the boy and strengthen the girl; and they took for granted +that softness and strength were precisely what were wanted. It is a +great pity that men and women forget that they have been children. +Parents are apt to be foreigners to their sons and daughters. Maturity +is the gate of paradise, which shuts behind us; and our memories are +gradually weaned from the glories in which our nativity was cradled.</p> + +<p>The months went by, the children grew older, and they constantly +loved. Now Prue always smiles at one of my theories; she is entirely +skeptical of it; but it is, nevertheless, my opinion that men love +most passionately, and women most permanently. Men love at first and +most warmly; women love last and longest. This is natural enough; for +nature makes women to be won, and men to win. Men are the active, +positive force, and therefore, they are more ardent and +demonstrative....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>Why our cousin should have loved the gay Flora so ardently was hard to +say; but that he did so, was not difficult to see. He went away to +college. He wrote the most eloquent and passionate letters; and when +he returned in vacations, he had no eyes, ears, nor heart for any +other being. I rarely saw him, for I was living away from our early +home, and was busy in a store—learning to be bookkeeper—but I heard +afterward from himself the whole story.</p> + +<p>One day when he came home for the holidays, he found a young foreigner +with Flora—a handsome youth, brilliant and graceful. I have asked +Prue a thousand times why women adore soldiers and foreigners. She +says it is because they love heroism and are romantic. A soldier is +professionally a hero, says Prue, and a foreigner is associated with +all unknown and beautiful regions. I hope there is no worse reason....</p> + +<p>Our cousin came home and found Flora and the young foreigner +conversing. The young foreigner had large, soft, black eyes, and the +dusky skin of the tropics. His manner was languid and fascinating, +courteous and reserved. It assumed a natural supremacy, and you felt +as if here were a young prince traveling before he came into +possession of his realm....</p> + +<p>Our cousin the curate no sooner saw the tropical stranger and marked +his impression upon Flora than he felt the end. As the shaft struck +his heart, his smile was sweeter, and his homage even more poetic and +reverential. I doubt if Flora understood him or herself. She did not +know, what he instinctively perceived, that she loved him less. But +there are no degrees in love;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> when it is less than absolute and +supreme, it is nothing. Our cousin and Flora were not formally +engaged, but their betrothal was understood by all of us as a thing of +course. He did not allude to the stranger; but as day followed day, he +saw with every nerve all that passed. Gradually—so gradually that she +scarcely noticed it—our cousin left Flora more and more with the +soft-eyed stranger, whom he saw she preferred. His treatment of her +was so full of tact, he still walked and talked with her so familiarly +that she was not troubled by any fear that he saw what she hardly saw +herself. Therefore, she was not obliged to conceal anything from him +or from herself; but all the soft currents of her heart were setting +toward the West Indian. Our cousin's cheek grew paler, and his soul +burned and wasted within him. His whole future—all his dream of +life—had been founded upon his love. It was a stately palace built +upon the sand, and now the sand was sliding away. I have read +somewhere that love will sacrifice everything but itself. But our +cousin sacrificed his love to the happiness of his mistress. He ceased +to treat her as peculiarly his own. He made no claim in word or manner +that everybody might not have made. He did not refrain from seeing +her, or speaking of her as of all his other friends; and, at length, +altho no one could say how or when the change had been made, it was +evident and understood that he was no more her lover, but that both +were the best of friends.</p> + +<p>He still wrote to her occasionally from college, and his letters were +those of a friend, not of a lover. He could not reproach her. I do +not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> believe any man is secretly surprized that a woman ceases to love +him. Her love is a heavenly favor won by no desert of his. If it +passes, he can no more complain than a flower when the sunshine leaves +it.</p> + +<p>Before our cousin left college Flora was married to the tropical +stranger. It was the brightest of June days, and the summer smiled +upon the bride. There were roses in her hand and orange flowers in her +hair, and the village church bell rang out over the peaceful fields. +The warm sunshine lay upon the landscape like God's blessing, and Prue +and I, not yet married ourselves, stood at an open window in the old +meeting-house, hand in hand, while the young couple spoke their vows. +Prue says that brides are always beautiful, and I, who remember Prue +herself upon her wedding-day—how can I deny it? Truly, the gay Flora +was lovely that summer morning, and the throng was happy in the old +church. But it was very sad to me, altho I only suspected then what +now I know. I shed no tears at my own wedding, but I did at Flora's, +altho I knew she was marrying a soft-eyed youth whom she dearly loved, +and who, I doubt not, dearly loved her.</p> + +<p>Among the group of her nearest friends was our cousin the curate. When +the ceremony was ended, he came to shake her hand with the rest. His +face was calm, and his smile sweet, and his manner unconstrained. +Flora did not blush—why should she?—but shook his hand warmly, and +thanked him for his good wishes. Then they all sauntered down the +aisle together; there were some tears with the smiles among the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +friends; our cousin handed the bride into her carriage, shook hands +with the husband, closed the door, and Flora drove away.</p> + +<p>I have never seen her since; I do not even know if she be living +still. But I shall always remember her as she looked that June +morning, holding roses in her hand, and wreathed with orange flowers. +Dear Flora! it was no fault of hers that she loved one man more than +another: she could not be blamed for not preferring our cousin to the +West Indian: there is no fault in the story, it is only a tragedy.</p> + +<p>Our cousin carried all the collegiate honors—but without exciting +jealousy or envy. He was so really the best, that his companions were +anxious he should have the sign of his superiority. He studied hard, +he thought much, and wrote well. There was no evidence of any blight +upon his ambition or career, but after living quietly in the country +for some time, he went to Europe and traveled. When he returned, he +resolved to study law, but presently relinquished it. Then he +collected materials for a history, but suffered them to lie unused. +Somehow the mainspring was gone. He used to come and pass weeks with +Prue and me. His coming made the children happy, for he sat with them, +and talked and played with them all day long, as one of themselves....</p> + +<p>At length our cousin went abroad again to Europe. It was many years +ago that we watched him sail away, and when Titbottom, and Prue, and I +went home to dinner, the grace that was said that day was a fervent +prayer for our cousin the curate. Many an evening afterward,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> the +children wanted him, and cried themselves to sleep calling upon his +name. Many an evening still our talk flags into silence as we sit +before the fire, and Prue puts down her knitting and takes my hand, as +if she knew my thoughts, altho we do not name his name.</p> + +<p>He wrote us letters as he wandered about the world. They were +affectionate letters, full of observation, and thought, and +description. He lingered longest in Italy, but he said his conscience +accused him of yielding to the sirens; and he declared that his life +was running uselessly away. At last he came to England. He was charmed +with everything, and the climate was even kinder to him than that of +Italy. He went to all the famous places, and saw many of the famous +Englishmen, and wrote that he felt England to be his home. Burying +himself in the ancient gloom of a university town, altho past the +prime of life, he studied like an ambitious boy. He said again that +his life had been wine poured upon the ground, and he felt guilty. And +so our cousin became a curate....</p> + +<p>Our children have forgotten their old playmate; but I am sure if there +be any children in his parish, over the sea, they love our cousin the +curate, and watch eagerly for his coming. Does his step falter now, I +wonder; is that long fair hair gray; is that laugh as musical in those +distant homes as it used to be in our nursery; has England among all +her great and good men any man so noble as our cousin the curate?</p> + +<p>The great book is unwritten; the great deeds are undone; in no +biographical dictionary will you find the name of our cousin the +curate. Is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> his life therefore lost? Have his powers been wasted?</p> + +<p>I do not dare to say it, for I see Bourne on the pinnacle of +prosperity, but still looking sadly for his castles in Spain; I see +Titbottom, an old deputy bookkeeper, whom nobody knows, but with his +chivalric heart loyal to children, his generous and humane spirit, +full of sweet hope and faith and devotion; I see the superb Auriel, so +lovely that the Indians would call her a smile of the Great Spirit, +and as beneficent as a saint of the calendar—how shall I say what is +lost and what is won. I know that in every way and by all His +preachers God is served and His purposes accomplished. How shall I +explain or understand? I, who am only an old bookkeeper in an old +cravat.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> From Chapter VII of "Prue and I."</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ARTEMUS_WARD" id="ARTEMUS_WARD"></a>ARTEMUS WARD</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1834, died in England in 1867; his real name Charles +Farrar Browne; noted as a humorous lecturer here and in +England; published "Artemus Ward: His Book" in 1862; +"Artemus Ward: His Travels" in 1865; "Artemus Ward in +London" in 1867.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FORREST_AS_OTHELLO" id="FORREST_AS_OTHELLO"></a>FORREST AS OTHELLO<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></h2> + + +<p>Durin a recent visit to New York the undersined went to see Edwin +Forrest. As I am into the moral show biziness myself I ginrally go to +Barnum's moral museum, where only moral peeple air admitted, partickly +on Wednesday arternoons. But this time I thot I'd go and see Ed. Ed +has bin actin out on the stage for many years. There is varis 'pinions +about his actin, Englishmen ginrally bleevin that he's far superior to +Mister Macready; but on one pint all agree, & that is that Ed draws +like a six-ox team. Ed was actin at Niblo's Garding, which looks +considerable more like a parster than a garding, but let that pars. I +sot down in the pit, took out my spectacles and commenced peroosin the +evenin's bill. The awjince was all-fired large & the boxes was full of +the elitty of New York. Several opery glasses was leveled at me by +Gotham's fairest darters, but I didn't let on as tho I noticed it, tho +mebby I did take out my sixteen-dollar silver watch & brandish it +round more than was necessary. But the best of us has our weaknesses & +if a man has gewelry let him show it. As I was peroosin the bill a +grave young <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>man who sot near me axed me if I'd ever seen Forrest +dance the Essence of Old Virginny, "He's immense in that," sed the +young man. "He also does a fair champion jig," the young man +continnered, "but his Big Thing is the Essence of Old Virginny." Sez +I, "Fair youth, do you know what I'd do with you if you was my sun?"</p> + +<p>"No," sez he.</p> + +<p>"Wall," sez I, "I'd appint your funeral to-morrow arternoon, & the +<i>korps should be ready</i>. You're too smart to live on this yerth."</p> + +<p>He didn't try any more of his capers on me. But another pussylanermuss +individooul in a red vest and patent leather boots told me his name +was Bill Astor & axed me to lend him 50 cents till early in the +mornin. I told him I'd probly send it round to him before he retired +to his virtoous couch, but if I didn't he might look for it next fall +as soon as I'd cut my corn.</p> + +<p>The orchestry was now fiddling with all their might & as the peeple +didn't understan anything about it they applaudid versifrusly. +Presently old Ed cum out. The play was Otheller or More of Veniss. +Otheller was writ by Wm. Shakspeer. The seene is laid in Veniss. +Otheller was a likely man & was a ginral in the Veniss army. He eloped +with Desdemony, a darter of the Hon. Mr. Brabantio who represented one +of the back districks in the Veneshun legislater. Old Brabantio was as +mad as thunder at this & tore round considerable, but finally cooled +down, telling Otheller, howsoever, that Desdemony had come it over her +par, & that he had better look out or she'd come it over him +likewise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Otheller git along very comfortable-like for a spell. She +is sweet-tempered and lovin—a nice, sensible female, never goin in +for he-female conventions, green cotton umbrellers, and pickled beats. +Otheller is a good provider and thinks all the world of his wife. She +has a lazy time of it, the hird girl doin all the cookin and washin. +Desdemony in fact don't have to git the water to wash her own hands +with. But a low cuss named Iago, who I bleeve wants to git Otheller +out of his snug government birth, now goes to work & upsets the +Otheller family in most outrajus stile. Iago falls in with a brainless +youth named Roderigo & wins all his money at poker. (Iago allers +played foul.) He thus got money enuff to carry out his onprincipled +skeem. Mike Cassio, a Irishman, is selected as a tool by Iago. Mike +was a clever feller & a orficer in Otheller's army. He liked his tods +too well, howsoever, & they floored him as they have many other +promisin young men. Iago injuces Mike to drink with him, Iago slily +throwin his whiskey over his shoulder. Mike gits as drunk as a biled +owl & allows that he can lick a yard full of the Veneshun fancy before +breakfast, without sweating a hair. He meets Roderigo & proceeds for +to smash him. A feller named Mentano undertakes to slap Cassio, when +that infatooated person runs his sword into him.</p> + +<p>That miserble man, Iago, pretends to be very sorry to see Mike conduck +hisself in this way & undertakes to smooth the thing over to Otheller, +who rushes in with a drawn sword & wants to know what's up. Iago +cunningly tells his story & Otheller tells Mike that he thinks a good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +deal of him but that he cant train no more in his regiment. Desdemony +sympathizes with poor Mike & interceds for him with Otheller. Iago +makes him bleeve she does this because she thinks more of Mike than +she does of hisself. Otheller swallers Iagos lying tail & goes to +makin a noosence of hisself ginrally. He worries poor Desdemony +terrible by his vile insinuations & finally smothers her to death with +a piller. Mrs. Iago comes in just as Otheller has finished the fowl +deed & givs him fits right & left, showin him that he has been orfully +gulled by her miserble cuss of a husband. Iago cums in & his wife +commences rakin him down also, when he stabs her. Otheller jaws him a +spell & then cuts a small hole in his stummick with his sword. Iago +pints to Desdemony's deth bed & goes orf with a sardonic smile onto +his countenance. Otheller tells the peeple that he has dun the state +some service & they know it; axes them to do as fair a thing as they +can for him under the circumstances, & kills hisself with a +fish-knife, which is the most sensible thing he can do. This is a +breef skedule of the synopsis of the play.</p> + +<p>Edwin Forrest is a grate acter. I thot I saw Otheller before me all +the time he was actin &, when the curtin fell, I found my spectacles +was still mistened with salt-water, which had run from my eyes while +poor Desdemony was dyin. Betsy Jane—Betsy Jane! let us pray that our +domestic bliss may never be busted up by a Iago!</p> + +<p>Edwin Forrest makes money acting out on the stage. He gits five +hundred dollars a nite & his board & washin. I wish I had such a +Forrest in my Garding!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> From "Artemus Ward: His Book."</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THOMAS_BAILEY_ALDRICH" id="THOMAS_BAILEY_ALDRICH"></a>THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1836; died in 1908; a literary man in New York in +early life; removing to Boston, became editor of <i>Every +Saturday</i> in 1870-74; editor of the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i> in +1881-1890; among his works "The Ballad of Babie Bell" +published in 1856, "Cloth of Gold" in 1874, "Flower and +Thorn" in 1876, "Story of a Bad Boy" in 1870, "Marjorie Daw" +in 1873, "Prudence Palfrey" in 1874, "The Queen of Sheba" in +1877, "The Stillwater Tragedy" in 1880, "From Ponkapog to +Pesth" in 1883, "The Sister's Tragedy" in 1891.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="A_SUNRISE_IN_STILLWATER" id="A_SUNRISE_IN_STILLWATER"></a>A SUNRISE IN STILLWATER<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></h2> + +<p>It is close upon daybreak. The great wall of pines and hemlocks that +keep off the east wind from Stillwater stretches black and +indeterminate against the sky. At intervals a dull, metallic sound, +like the guttural twang of a violin string, rises from the +frog-invested swamp skirting the highway. Suddenly the birds stir in +their nests over there in the woodland, and break into that wild +jargoning chorus with which they herald the advent of a new day. In +the apple orchards and among the plum-trees of the few gardens in +Stillwater the wrens and the robins and the blue-jays catch up the +crystal crescendo, and what a melodious racket they make of it with +their fifes and flutes and flageolets!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>The village lies in a trance like death. Possibly not a soul hears +this music, unless it is the watchers at the bedside of Mr. Leonard +Tappleton, the richest man in town, who has lain dying these three +days, and can not last till sunrise. Or perhaps some mother, drowsily +hushing her wakeful baby, pauses a moment and listens vacantly to the +birds singing. But who else?</p> + +<p>The hubbub suddenly ceases—ceases as suddenly as it began—and all is +still again in the woodland. But it is not so dark as before. A faint +glow of white light is discernible behind the ragged line of the tree +tops. The deluge of darkness is receding from the face of the earth, +as the mighty waters receded of old.</p> + +<p>The roofs and tall factory chimneys of Stillwater are slowly taking +shape in the gloom. Is that a cemetery coming into view yonder, with +its ghostly architecture of obelisks and broken columns and huddled +headstones? No, that is only Slocum's marble yard, with the finished +and unfinished work heaped up like snowdrifts—a cemetery in embryo. +Here and there in an outlying farm a lantern glimmers in the +barn-yard: the cattle are having their fodder betimes. Scarlet-capped +chanticleer gets himself on the nearest rail fence and lifts up his +rancorous voice like some irate old cardinal launching the curse of +Rome. Something crawls swiftly along the gray of the serpentine +turnpike—a cart, with the driver lashing a jaded horse. A quick wind +goes shivering by, and is lost in the forest.</p> + +<p>Now a narrow strip of two-colored gold stretches along the horizon.</p> + +<p>Stillwater is gradually coming to its senses.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> The sun has begun to +twinkle on the gilt cross of the Catholic chapel and make itself known +to the doves in the stone belfry on the South Church. The patches of +cobweb that here and there cling tremulously to the coarse grass of +the inundated meadows have turned into silver nets, and the +mill-pond—it will be steel-blue later—is as smooth and white as if +it had been paved with one vast unbroken slab out of Slocum's marble +yard. Through a row of buttonwoods on the northern skirt of the +village is seen a square, lap-streaked building, painted a +disagreeable brown, and surrounded on three sides by a platform—one +of seven or eight similar stations strung like Indian beads on a +branch thread of the Great Sagamore Railway.</p> + +<p>Listen! That is the jingle of the bells on the baker's cart as it +begins its rounds. From innumerable chimneys the curled smoke gives +evidence that the thrifty housewife—or, what is rarer in Stillwater, +the hired girl—has lighted the kitchen fire.</p> + +<p>The chimney-stack of one house at the end of a small court—the last +house on the easterly edge of the village, and standing quite +alone—sends up no smoke. Yet the carefully trained ivy over the +porch, and the lemon verbena in a tub at the foot of the steps, +intimate that the place is not unoccupied. Moreover, the little +schooner which acts as weathercock on one of the gables, and is now +heading due west, has a new topsail. It is a story-and-a-half cottage, +with a large expanse of roof, which, covered with porous, unpainted +shingles, seems to repel the sunshine that now strikes full upon it. +The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> upper and lower blinds on the main building, as well as those on +the extensions, are tightly closed. The sun appears to beat in vain at +the casements of this silent house, which has a curiously sullen and +defiant air, as if it had desperately and successfully barricaded +itself against the approach of morning; yet if one were standing in +the room that leads from the bedchamber on the ground floor—the room +with the latticed window—one would see a ray of light thrust through +a chink of the shutters, and pointing like a human finger at an object +which lies by the hearth.</p> + +<p>This finger, gleaming, motionless, and awful in its precision, points +to the body of old Mr. Lemuel Shackford, who lies there dead in his +night-dress, with a gash across his forehead.</p> + +<p>In the darkness of that summer night a deed darker than the night +itself had been done in Stillwater.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="THE_FIGHT_AT_SLATTERS_HILL" id="THE_FIGHT_AT_SLATTERS_HILL"></a>THE FIGHT AT SLATTER'S HILL<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></h2> + +<p>The memory of man, even that of the oldest inhabitant runneth not back +to the time when there did not exist a feud between the North End and +the South End boys of Rivermouth.</p> + +<p>The origin of the feud is involved in mystery; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>it is impossible to say +which party was the first aggressor in the far-off anterevolutionary ages; +but the fact remains that the youngsters of those antipodal sections +entertained a mortal hatred for each other, and that this hatred had been +handed down from generation to generation, like Miles Standish's +punch-bowl.</p> + +<p>I know not what laws, natural or unnatural, regulated the warmth of +the quarrel; but at some seasons it raged more violently than at +others. This winter both parties were unusually lively and +antagonistic. Great was the wrath of the South-Enders when they +discovered that the North-Enders had thrown up a fort on the crown of +Slatter's Hill.</p> + +<p>Slatter's Hill, or No-man's-land, as it was generally called, was a +rise of ground covering, perhaps, an acre and a quarter, situated on +an imaginary line marking the boundary between the two districts. An +immense stratum of granite, which here and there thrust out a wrinkled +boulder, prevented the site from being used for building purposes. The +street ran on either side of the hill, from one part of which a +quantity of rock had been removed to form the underpinning of the new +jail. This excavation made the approach from that point all but +impossible, especially when the ragged ledges were a-glitter with ice. +You see what a spot it was for a snow-fort.</p> + +<p>One evening twenty or thirty of the North-Enders quietly took +possession of Slatter's Hill, and threw up a strong line of +breastworks. The rear of the entrenchment, being protected by the +quarry, was left open. The walls were four feet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> high, and twenty-two +inches thick, strengthened at the angles by stakes driven firmly into +the ground.</p> + +<p>Fancy the rage of the South-Enders the next day, when they spied our +snowy citadel, with Jack Harris's red silk pocket-handkerchief +floating defiantly from the flagstaff.</p> + +<p>In less than an hour it was known all over town, in military circles +at least, that the "puddle-dockers" and the "river-rats" (these were +the derisive sub-titles bestowed on our South End foes) intended to +attack the fort that Saturday afternoon.</p> + +<p>At two o'clock all the fighting boys of the Temple Grammar School, and +as many recruits as we could muster, lay behind the walls of Fort +Slatter, with three hundred compact snowballs piled up in pyramids, +awaiting the approach of the enemy. The enemy was not slow in making +his approach—fifty strong, headed by one Mat Ames. Our forces were +under the command of General J. Harris.</p> + +<p>Before the action commenced a meeting was arranged between the rival +commanders, who drew up and signed certain rules and regulations +respecting the conduct of the battle. As it was impossible for the +North-Enders to occupy the fort permanently, it was stipulated that +the South-Enders should assault it only on Wednesday and Saturday +afternoons between the hours of two and six. For them to take +possession of the place at any other time was not to constitute a +capture, but, on the contrary, was to be considered a dishonorable and +cowardly act.</p> + +<p>The North-Enders, on the other hand, agreed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> to give up the fort +whenever ten of the storming party succeeded in obtaining at one time +a footing on the parapet, and were able to hold the same for the space +of two minutes. Both sides were to abstain from putting pebbles into +their snowballs, nor was it permissible to use frozen ammunition. A +snowball soaked in water and left out to cool was a projectile which +in previous years had been resorted to with disastrous results.</p> + +<p>These preliminaries settled, the commanders retired to their +respective corps. The interview had taken place on the hillside +between the opposing lines.</p> + +<p>General Harris divided his men into two bodies; the first comprized +the most skilful marksmen, or gunners; the second, the reserve force, +was composed of the strongest boys, whose duty it was to repel the +scaling parties, and to make occasional sallies for the purpose of +capturing prisoners, who were bound by the articles of treaty to +faithfully serve under our flag until they were exchanged at the close +of the day.</p> + +<p>The repellers were called light infantry; but when they carried on the +operations beyond the fort they became cavalry. It was also their +duty, when not otherwise engaged, to manufacture snowballs. The +General's staff consisted of five Templars (I among the number, with +the rank of major), who carried the General's orders and looked after +the wounded.</p> + +<p>General Mat Ames, a veteran commander, was no less wide-awake in the +disposition of his army. Five companies, each numbering but six men, +in order not to present too big a target to our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> sharpshooters, were +to charge the fort from different points, their advance being covered +by a heavy fire from the gunners posted in the rear. Each scaler was +provided with only two rounds of ammunition, which were not to be used +until he had mounted the breastwork and could deliver his shots on our +heads.</p> + +<p>The thrilling moment had now arrived. If I had been going into a real +engagement I could not have been more deeply imprest by the importance +of the occasion.</p> + +<p>The fort opened fire first—a single ball from the dextrous hand of +General Harris taking General Ames in the very pit of his stomach. A +cheer went up from Fort Slatter. In an instant the air was thick with +flying missiles, in the midst of which we dimly descried the storming +parties sweeping up the hill, shoulder to shoulder. The shouts of the +leaders, and the snowballs bursting like shells about our ears made it +very lively.</p> + +<p>Not more than a dozen of the enemy succeeded in reaching the crest of +the hill; five of these clambered upon the icy walls, where they were +instantly grabbed by the legs and jerked into the fort. The rest +retired confused and blinded by our well-directed fire.</p> + +<p>When General Harris (with his right eye bunged up) said, "Soldiers, I +am proud of you!" my heart swelled in my bosom.</p> + +<p>The victory, however, had not been without its price. Six +North-Enders, having rushed out to harass the discomfited enemy, were +gallantly cut off by General Ames and captured. Among these were +Lieutenant P. Whitcomb (who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> no business to join in the charge, +being weak in the knees) and Captain Fred Langdon, of General Harris's +staff. Whitcomb was one of the most notable shots on our side, tho he +was not much to boast of in a rough-and-tumble fight, owing to the +weakness before mentioned. General Ames put him among the gunners, and +we were quickly made aware of the loss we had sustained by receiving a +frequent artful ball which seemed to light with unerring instinct on +any nose that was the least bit exposed. I have known one of Pepper's +snowballs, fired point-blank, to turn a corner and hit a boy who +considered himself absolutely safe.</p> + +<p>But we had no time for vain regrets. The battle raged. Already there +were two bad cases of black eye, and one of nose-bleed, in the +hospital.</p> + +<p>It was glorious excitement, those pell-mell onslaughts and +hand-to-hand struggles. Twice we were within an ace of being driven +from our stronghold, when General Harris and his staff leapt +recklessly upon the ramparts and hurled the besiegers heels over head +down hill.</p> + +<p>At sunset the garrison of Fort Slatter was still unconquered, and the +South-Enders, in a solid phalanx, marched off whistling "Yankee +Doodle," while we cheered and jeered them until they were out of +hearing.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> +<h2>III</h2> +<h2><a name="ON_RETURNING_FROM_EUROPE" id="ON_RETURNING_FROM_EUROPE"></a>ON RETURNING FROM EUROPE<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></h2> + +<p>This page will be wafted possibly through a snow-storm to the reader's +hand; but it is written while a few red leaves are still clinging to +the maple bough, and the last steamer of the year from across the +ocean has not yet discharged on our shores the final cargo of +returning summer tourists. How glad they will be, like those who came +over in previous ships, to sight that fantomish, white strip of Yankee +land called Sandy Hook! It is thinking of them that I write.</p> + +<p>Some one—that anonymous person who is always saying the wisest and +most delightful things just as you are on the point of saying them +yourself—has remarked that one of the greatest pleasures of foreign +travel is to get home again. But no one—that irresponsible person +forever to blame in railway accidents, but whom, on the whole, I +vastly prefer to his garrulous relative quoted above—no one, I +repeat, has pointed out the composite nature of this pleasure, or +named the ingredient in it which gives the chief charm to this getting +back. It is pleasant to feel the pressure of friendly hands once more; +it is pleasant to pick up the threads of occupation which you dropt +abruptly, or perhaps neatly knotted <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>together and carefully laid away, +just before you stept on board the steamer; it is very pleasant, when +the summer experience has been softened and sublimated by time, to sit +of a winter night by the cheery wood fire, or even at the register, +since one must make one's self comfortable in so humiliating a +fashion, and let your fancy wander back in the old footprints; to form +your thoughts into happy summer pilgrims, and dispatch them to Arles +or Nuremberg, or up the vine-clad heights of Monte Cassino, or embark +them at Vienna for a cruise down the swift Danube to Budapest. But in +none of these things lies the subtle charm I wish to indicate. It lies +in the refreshing, short-lived pleasure of being able to look at your +own land with the eyes of an alien; to see novelty blossoming on the +most commonplace and familiar stems; to have the old manner and the +threadbare old custom to present themselves to you as absolutely +new—or if not new, at least strange.</p> + +<p>After you have escaped from the claws of the custom-house +officers—who are not nearly as affable birds as you once thought +them—and are rattling in an oddly familiar hack through well-known +but half-unrecognizable streets, you are struck by something comical +in the names on the shop signs—are American names comical, as +Englishmen seem to think?—by the strange fashion of the iron +lamp-post at the corner, by peculiarities in the architecture, which +you ought to have noticed, but never did notice until now. The candid +incivility of the coachman, who does not touch his hat to you, but +swears at you, has the vague charm of reminiscence. You regard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> him as +the guests regarded the poor relation at table in Lamb's essay; you +have an impression that you have seen him somewhere before. The truth +is, for the first time in your existence, you have a full, +unprejudiced look at the shell of the civilization from which you +emerged when you went abroad. Is it a pretty shell? Is it a +satisfactory shell? Not entirely. It has strange excrescences and +blotches on it. But it is a shell worth examining; it is the best you +can ever have; and it is expedient to study it very carefully the two +or three weeks immediately following your return to it, for your +privilege of doing so is of the briefest tenure. Some precious things +you do not lose, but your newly acquired vision fails you shortly. +Suddenly, while you are comparing, valuing, and criticizing, the old +scales fall over your eyes, you insensibly slip back into the +well-worn grooves, and behold all outward and most inward things in +nearly the same light as your untraveled neighbor, who has never known</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The glory that was Greece<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the grandeur that was Rome."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>You will have to go abroad again to renew those magical spectacles +which enabled you for a few weeks to see your native land.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> From Chapter I of "The Stillwater Tragedy." Copyright, +1880, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Published by Houghton, Mifflin +Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> From Chapter XIII of "The Story of a Bad Boy." +Copyright, 1869, 1877, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Published by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> From Chapter IX of "From Ponkapog to Pesth." Copyright, +1883, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Published by Houghton, Mifflin +Company.</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WILLIAM_DEAN_HOWELLS" id="WILLIAM_DEAN_HOWELLS"></a>WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in Ohio in 1837; consul to Venice in 1861-65; editor of +<i>The Atlantic Monthly</i> in 1871-81; associate editor of +<i>Harper's Magazine</i> since 1886; among his many works, +"Venetian Life" published in 1866, "Italian Journeys" in +1869, "Poems" in 1867, "Their Wedding Journey" in 1872, "A +Chance Acquaintance" in 1873, "The Lady of the Aroostook" in +1875, "The Undiscovered Country" in 1880, "A Modern +Instance" in 1882, "Silas Lapham" in 1885, "Annie Kilburn" +in 1888.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_ALBANY_BY_THE_NIGHT_BOAT" id="TO_ALBANY_BY_THE_NIGHT_BOAT"></a>TO ALBANY BY THE NIGHT BOAT<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></h2> + + +<p>There is little proportion about either pain or pleasure: a headache +darkens the universe while it lasts, a cup of tea really lightens the +spirit bereft of all reasonable consolation. Therefore I do not think +it trivial or untrue to say that there is for the moment nothing more +satisfactory in life than to have bought your ticket on the night boat +up the Hudson and secured your stateroom key an hour or two before +departure, and some time even before the pressure at the clerk's +office has begun. In the transaction with this castellated baron, you +have, of course, been treated with haughtiness, but not with ferocity, +and your self-respect swells with a sense of having escaped positive +insult; your key clicks cheerfully in your pocket against its +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>gutta-percha number, and you walk up and down the gorgeously +carpeted, single-columned, two-story cabin, amid a multitude of plush +sofas and chairs, a glitter of glass, and a tinkle of prismatic +chandeliers overhead, unawed even by the aristocratic gloom of the +yellow waiters. Your own stateroom, as you enter it from time to time, +is an ever new surprize of splendors, a magnificent effect of +amplitude, of mahogany bedstead, of lace curtains, and of marble topt +washstand. In the mere wantonness of an unalloyed prosperity you say +to the saffron nobleman nearest your door, "Bring me a pitcher of +ice-water, quick, please!" and you do not find the half-hour that he +is gone very long.</p> + +<p>If the ordinary wayfarer experiences so much pleasure from these +things, then imagine the infinite comfort of our wedding journeyers, +transported from Broadway on that pitiless afternoon to the shelter +and the quiet of that absurdly palatial steamboat. It was not yet +crowded, and by the river-side there was almost a freshness in the +air. They disposed of their troubling bags and packages; they +complimented the ridiculous princeliness of their stateroom, and then +they betook themselves to the sheltered space aft of the saloon, where +they sat down for the tranquiller observance of the wharf and whatever +should come to be seen by them. Like all people who have just escaped +with their lives from some menacing calamity, they were very +philosophical in spirit; and having got aboard of their own motion, +and being neither of them apparently the worse for the ordeal they had +passed through, were of a light, conversational temper.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What an amusingly superb affair!" Basil cried as they glanced through +an open window down the long vista of the saloon. "Good heavens! +Isabel, does it take all this to get us plain republicans to Albany in +comfort and safety, or are we really a nation of princes in disguise? +Well, I shall never be satisfied with less hereafter," he added. "I am +spoiled for ordinary paint and upholstery from this hour; I am a +ruinous spendthrift, and a humble three-story swell-front up at the +South End is no longer the place for me. Dearest,</p> + +<blockquote><p>'Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,'</p></blockquote> + +<p>never to leave this Aladdin's-palace-like steamboat, but spend our +lives in perpetual trips up and down the Hudson."</p> + +<p>To which not very costly banter Isabel responded in kind, and rapidly +sketched the life they could lead aboard. Since they could not help +it, they mocked the public provision which, leaving no interval +between disgraceful squalor and ludicrous splendor, accommodates our +democratic menage to the taste of the richest and most extravagant +plebeian amongst us. He, unhappily, minds danger and oppression as +little as he minds money, so long as he has a spectacle and a +sensation, and it is this ruthless imbecile who will have lace +curtains to the steamboat berth into which he gets with his pantaloons +on, and out of which he may be blown by an exploding boiler at any +moment; it is he who will have for supper that overgrown and shapeless +dinner in the lower saloon, and will not let any one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> else buy tea or +toast for a less sum than he pays for his surfeit; it is he who +perpetuates the insolence of the clerk and the reluctance of the +waiters; it is he, in fact, who now comes out of the saloon, with his +womenkind, and takes chairs under the awning where Basil and Isabel +sit. Personally, he is not so bad; he is good-looking, like all of us; +he is better drest than most of us; he behaves himself quietly, if not +easily; and no lord so loathes a scene. Next year he is going to +Europe, where he will not show to so much advantage as here; but for +the present it would be hard to say in what way he is vulgar, and +perhaps vulgarity is not so common a thing after all.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> From Chapter III of "Their Wedding Journey." Copyright, +1871, 1888, Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JOHN_HAY" id="JOHN_HAY"></a>JOHN HAY</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in Indiana in 1838, died in 1905; graduated from Brown +University in 1858; admitted to the bar in Illinois; one of +the private secretaries of President Lincoln; secretary of +Legation in Paris, Madrid and Vienna; Assistant Secretary of +State in 1879-81; president of the International Sanitary +Commission in 1891; ambassador to England in 1897-98; +Secretary of State in 1898; author of "Castilian Days," +published in 1871, "Pike County Ballads" in 1871, "Abraham +Lincoln: a History," in collaboration with John G. Nicolay +in 1890.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LINCOLNS_EARLY_FAME" id="LINCOLNS_EARLY_FAME"></a>LINCOLN'S EARLY FAME<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></h2> + + +<p>His death seemed to have marked a step in the education of the people +everywhere. It requires years, perhaps centuries, to build the +structure of a reputation which rests upon the opinion of those +distinguished for learning or intelligence; the progress of opinion +from the few to the many is slow and painful. But in the case of +Lincoln the many imposed their opinion all at once; he was canonized, +as he lay on his bier, by the irresistible decree of countless +millions. The greater part of the aristocracy of England thought +little of him; but the burst of grief from the English people silenced +in an instant every discordant voice. It would have been as imprudent +to speak slightingly of him in London as it was in New York. +Especially among <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>the Dissenters was honor and reverence shown to his +name. The humbler people instinctively felt that their order had lost +its wisest champion.</p> + +<p>Not only among those of Saxon blood was this outburst of emotion seen. +In France a national manifestation took place, which the government +disliked but did not think it wise to suppress. The students of Paris +marched in a body to the American Legation to express their sympathy. +A two-cent subscription was started to strike a massive gold medal; +the money was soon raised, but the committee was forced to have the +work done in Switzerland. A committee of French liberals brought the +medal to the American minister, to be sent to Mrs. Lincoln. "Tell +her," said Eugène Pelletan, "the heart of France is in that little +box." The inscription had a double sense; while honoring the dead +republican, it struck at the Empire: "Lincoln—the Honest Man; +abolished Slavery, reestablished the Union; Saved the Republic, +without veiling the Statue of Liberty."</p> + +<p>Everywhere on the Continent the same swift apotheosis of the people's +hero was seen. An Austrian deputy said to the writer, "Among my people +his memory has already assumed superhuman proportions; he has become a +myth, a type of ideal democracy." Almost before the earth closed over +him he began to be the subject of fable. The Freemasons of Europe +generally regard him as one of them—his portrait in masonic garb is +often displayed; yet he was not one of that brotherhood. The +spiritualists claim him as their most illustrious adept, but he was +not a spiritualist; and there is hardly a sect in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> Western world, +from the Calvinist to the atheist, but affects to believe he was of +their opinion.</p> + +<p>A collection of the expressions of sympathy and condolence which came +to Washington from foreign governments, associations, and public +bodies of all sorts, was made by the State Department, and afterward +published by order of Congress. It forms a large quarto of a thousand +pages, and embraces the utterances of grief and regret from every +country under the sun, in almost every language spoken by man.</p> + +<p>But admired and venerated as he was in Europe, he was best understood +and appreciated at home. It is not to be denied that in his case, as +in that of all heroic personages who occupy a great place in history, +a certain element of legend mingles with his righteous fame. He was a +man, in fact, especially liable to legend....</p> + +<p>Because Lincoln kept himself in such constant sympathy with the common +people, whom he respected too highly to flatter or mislead, he was +rewarded by a reverence and a love hardly ever given to a human being. +Among the humble working people of the South whom he had made free +this veneration and affection easily passed into the supernatural. At +a religious meeting among the negroes of the Sea Islands a young man +exprest the wish that he might see Lincoln. A gray-headed negro +rebuked the rash aspiration: "No man see Linkum. Linkum walk as Jesus +walk; no man see Linkum."...</p> + +<p>The quick instinct by which the world recognized him even at the +moment of his death as one of its greatest men, was not deceived. It +has been confirmed by the sober thought of a quarter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> of a century. +The writers of each nation compare him with their first popular hero. +The French find points of resemblance in him to Henry IV; the Dutch +liken him to William of Orange: the cruel stroke of murder and treason +by which all three perished in the height of their power naturally +suggests the comparison, which is strangely justified in both cases, +tho the two princes were so widely different in character. Lincoln had +the wit, the bonhomie, the keen practical insight into affairs, of the +Béarnais; and the tyrannous moral sense, the wide comprehension, the +heroic patience of the Dutch patriot, whose motto might have served +equally well for the American President—<i>"Sævis tranquillus in +undis."</i> European historians speak of him in words reserved for the +most illustrious names.</p> + +<p>In this country, where millions still live who were his +contemporaries, and thousands who knew him personally; where the +envies and jealousies which dog the footsteps of success still linger +in the hearts of a few; where journals still exist that loaded his +name for four years with daily calumny, and writers of memoirs vainly +try to make themselves important by belittling him—his fame has +become as universal as the air, as deeply rooted as the hills. The +faint discords are not heard in the wide chorus that hails him second +to none and equaled by Washington alone. The eulogies of him form a +special literature. Preachers, poets, soldiers, and statesmen employ +the same phrases of unconditional love and reverence. Men speaking +with the authority of fame use unqualified superlatives....</p> + +<p>It is not difficult to perceive the basis of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> sudden and +world-wide fame, nor rash to predict its indefinite duration. There +are two classes of men whose names are more enduring than any +monument: the great writers, and the men of great achievement—the +founders of states, the conquerors. Lincoln has the singular fortune +to belong to both these categories; upon these broad and stable +foundations his renown is securely built. Nothing would have more +amazed him while he lived than to hear himself called a man of +letters; but this age has produced few greater writers. We are only +recording here the judgment of his peers. Emerson ranks him with Æsop +and Pilpay, in his lighter moods....</p> + +<p>The more his writings are studied in connection with the important +transactions of his age, the higher will his reputation stand in the +opinion of the lettered class. But the men of study and research are +never numerous; and it is principally as a man of action that the +world at large will regard him. It is the story of his objective life +that will forever touch and hold the heart of mankind. His birthright +was privation and ignorance—not peculiar to his family, but the +universal environment of his place and time; he burst through those +enchaining conditions by the force of native genius and will: vice had +no temptation for him; his course was as naturally upward as the +skylark's; he won, against all conceivable obstacles, a high place in +an exacting profession and an honorable position in public and private +life; he became the foremost representative of a party founded on an +uprising of the national conscience against a secular wrong, and thus +came to the awful responsibilities of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> power in a time of terror and +gloom. He met them with incomparable strength and virtue. Caring for +nothing but the public good, free from envy or jealous fears, he +surrounded himself with the leading men of his party, his most +formidable rivals in public esteem, and through four years of +stupendous difficulties he was head and shoulders above them all in +the vital qualities of wisdom, foresight, knowledge of men, and +thorough comprehension of measures. Personally opposed, as the +radicals claim, by more than half of his own party in Congress, and +bitterly denounced and maligned by his open adversaries, he yet bore +himself with such extraordinary discretion and skill that he obtained +for the government all the legislation it required, and so imprest +himself upon the national mind that without personal effort or +solicitation he became the only possible candidate of his party for +reelection, and was chosen by an almost unanimous vote of the +electoral colleges....</p> + +<p>To these qualifications of high literary excellence, and easy +practical mastery of affairs of transcendent importance we must add, +as an explanation of his immediate and world-wide fame, his possession +of certain moral qualities rarely combined in such high degree in one +individual. His heart was so tender that he would dismount from his +horse in a forest to replace in their nest young birds which had +fallen by the roadside; he could not sleep at night if he knew that a +soldier-boy was under sentence of death; he could not, even at the +bidding of duty or policy, refuse the prayer of age or helplessness in +distress. Children instinctively loved him;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> they never found his +rugged features ugly; his sympathies were quick and seemingly +unlimited. He was absolutely without prejudice of class or condition. +Frederick Douglass says he was the only man of distinction he ever met +who never reminded him, by word or manner, of his color; he was as +just and generous to the rich and well-born as to the poor and +humble—a thing rare among politicians. He was tolerant even of evil: +tho no man can ever have lived with a loftier scorn of meanness and +selfishness, he yet recognized their existence and counted with them. +He said one day, with a flash of cynical wisdom worthy of a La +Rochefoucauld, that honest statesmanship was the employment of +individual meanness for the public good. He never asked perfection of +any one; he did not even insist, for others, upon the high standards +he set up for himself. At a time before the word was invented he was +the first of opportunists. With the fire of a reformer and a martyr in +his heart, he yet proceeded by the ways of cautious and practical +statecraft. He always worked with things as they were, while never +relinquishing the desire and effort to make them better. To a hope +which saw the delectable mountains of absolute justice and peace in +the future, to a faith that God in his own time would give to all men +the things convenient to them, he added a charity which embraced in +its deep bosom all the good and the bad, all the virtues and the +infirmities of men, and a patience like that of nature, which in its +vast and fruitful activity knows neither haste nor rest.</p> + +<p>A character like this is among the precious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> heirlooms of the +republic; and by a special good fortune every part of the country has +an equal claim and pride in it. Lincoln's blood came from the veins of +New England emigrants, of Middle State Quakers, of Virginia planters, +of Kentucky pioneers; he himself was one of the men who grew up with +the earliest growth of the great West. Every jewel of his mind or his +conduct sheds radiance on each portion of the nation. The marvelous +symmetry and balance of his intellect and character may have owed +something to this varied environment of his race, and they may fitly +typify the variety and solidity of the republic. It may not be +unreasonable to hope that his name and his renown may be forever a +bond of union to the country which he loved with an affection so +impartial, and served, in life and in death, with such entire +devotion.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> From Volume X, Chapter XVIII, of "Abraham Lincoln: a +History." Copyright, 1886, 1890, by John G. Nicolay and John Hay. +Published by the Century Co.</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HENRY_ADAMS" id="HENRY_ADAMS"></a>HENRY ADAMS</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in Boston in 1838; graduated from Harvard in 1858, +private secretary to his father, Charles Francis Adams, +American Minister to England in 1861-68; a professor at +Harvard in 1870-77; editor of the <i>North American Review</i> in +1870-76; author of "Essays in Anglo-Saxon Law," "Life of +Albert Gallatin," and a "History of the United States" in +nine volumes.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JEFFERSONS_RETIREMENT" id="JEFFERSONS_RETIREMENT"></a>JEFFERSON'S RETIREMENT<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a></h2> + + +<p>The repeal of the embargo, which received the President's signature +March 1, closed the long reign of President Jefferson; and with but +one exception the remark of John Randolph was destined to remain true, +that "never has there been any administration which went out of office +and left the nation in a state so deplorable and calamitous." That the +blame for this failure rested wholly upon Jefferson might be doubted; +but no one felt more keenly than he the disappointment under which his +old hopes and ambitions were crusht.</p> + +<p>Loss of popularity was his bitterest trial. He who longed like a +sensitive child for sympathy and love left office as strongly and +almost as generally disliked as the least popular president who +preceded or followed him. He had undertaken to create a government +which should interfere <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>in no way with private action, and he had +created one which interfered directly in the concerns of every private +citizen in the land. He had come into power as the champion of state +rights, and had driven states to the verge of armed resistance. He had +begun by claiming credit for stern economy, and ended by exceeding the +expenditure of his predecessors. He had invented a policy of peace, +and his invention resulted in the necessity of fighting at once the +two greatest powers in the world....</p> + +<p>In truth, the disaster was appalling; and Jefferson described it in +moderate terms by admitting that the policy of peaceable coercion +brought upon him mortification such as no other president ever +suffered. So complete was his overthrow that his popular influence +declined even in the South. Twenty years elapsed before his political +authority recovered power over the Northern people; for not until the +embargo and its memories faded from men's minds did the mighty shadow +of Jefferson's Revolutionary name efface the ruin of his presidency. +Yet he clung with more and more tenacity to the faith that his theory +of peaceable coercion was sound; and when within a few months of his +death he alluded for the last time to the embargo, he spoke of it as +"a measure which, persevered in a little longer, we had subsequent and +satisfactory assurance would have effected its object completely."</p> + +<p>A discomfiture so conspicuous could not fail to bring in its train a +swarm of petty humiliations which for the moment were more painful +than the great misfortune. Jefferson had hoped to make his country +forever pure and free; to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> abolish war with its train of debt, +extravagance, corruption and tyranny; to build up a government devoted +only to useful and moral objects; to bring upon earth a new era of +peace and good-will among men. Throughout the twistings and windings +of his course as president he clung to this main idea; or if he seemed +for a moment to forget it, he never failed to return and to persist +with almost heroic obstinacy in enforcing its lessons. By repealing +the embargo, Congress avowedly and even maliciously rejected and +trampled upon the only part of Jefferson's statesmanship which claimed +originality, or which in his own opinion entitled him to rank as +philosophic legislator. The mortification he felt was natural and +extreme, but such as every great statesman might expect, and such as +most of them experienced. The supreme bitterness of the moment lay +rather in the sudden loss of respect and consideration which at all +times marked the decline of power, but became most painful when the +surrender of office followed a political defeat at the hands of +supposed friends....</p> + +<p>In his style of life as President, Jefferson had indulged in such easy +and liberal expenses as suited the place he held. Far from showing +extravagance, the White House and its surroundings had in his time the +outward look of a Virginia plantation. The President was required to +pay the expenses of the house and grounds. In consequence, the grounds +were uncared for, the palings broken or wanting, the paths undefined, +and the place a waste, running imperceptibly into the barren fields +about it. Within, the house was as simple as without, after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> usual +style of Virginia houses, where the scale was often extravagant but +the details plain. Only in his table did Jefferson spend an unusual +amount of money with excellent results for his political influence, +for no president ever understood better than Jefferson the art of +entertaining; yet his table cost him no excessive sums. For the best +champagne he paid less than a dollar a bottle; for the best Bordeaux +he paid a dollar; and the Madeira which was drunk in pipes at the +White House cost between fifty and sixty cents a bottle. His French +cook and cook's assistant were paid about four hundred dollars a year. +On such a scale his salary of twenty-five thousand dollars was +equivalent to fully sixty thousand dollars of modern money; and his +accounts showed that for the first and probably the most expensive +year of his presidency he spent only $16,800 which could properly be +charged to his public and official character. A mode of life so simple +and so easily controlled should in a village like Washington have left +no opening for arrears of debt; but when Jefferson, about to quit the +White House forever, attempted to settle his accounts, he discovered +that he had exceeded his income. Not his expenses as President, but +his expenses as planter dragged him down. At first he thought that his +debts would reach seven or eight thousand dollars, which must be +discharged from a private estate hardly exceeding two hundred thousand +dollars in value at the best of times, and rendered almost worthless +by neglect and by the embargo. The sudden demand for this sum of +money, coming at the moment of his political mortifications, wrung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +from him cries of genuine distress such as no public disaster had +called out....</p> + +<p>On horseback, over roads impassable to wheels, through snow and storm, +he hurried back to Monticello to recover in the quiet of home the +peace of mind he had lost in the disappointments of his statesmanship. +He arrived at Monticello March 15, and never again passed beyond the +bounds of a few adjacent counties.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> From the final chapter of the "History of the United +States in the Administration of Thomas Jefferson." Copyright, 1889, by +Charles Scribners' Sons.</p></div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BRET_HARTE" id="BRET_HARTE"></a>BRET HARTE</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1839, died in 1902; removed to California in 1854, +where in 1868 he founded <i>The Overland Monthly</i>; professor +in the University of California in 1870; removed to New York +in 1871; consul at Crefeld, Germany, in 1878-80, and at +Glasgow in 1880-85; published "The Luck of Roaring Camp" in +1868, "The Outcasts of Poker Flat" in 1869, "Poems" in 1871, +"Stories of the Sierras" in 1872, "Tales of the Argonauts" +in 1875, "Gabriel Conroy" in 1876, "Two Men of Sandy Bar" (a +play) in 1877, "A Phyllis of the Sierras" in 1888.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="PEGGY_MOFFATS_INHERITANCE" id="PEGGY_MOFFATS_INHERITANCE"></a>PEGGY MOFFAT'S INHERITANCE<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a></h2> + +<p>The first intimation given of the eccentricity of the testator was, I +think, in the spring of 1854. He was at that time in possession of a +considerable property, heavily mortgaged to one friend, and a wife of +some attraction, on whose affections another friend held an +encumbering lien. One day it was found that he had secretly dug, or +caused to be dug, a deep trap before the front door of his dwelling, +into which a few friends in the course of the evening casually and +familiarly dropt. This circumstance, slight in itself, seemed to point +to the existence of a certain humor in the man, which might eventually +get into literature; altho his wife's lover—a man of quick +discernment, whose leg was broken by the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>fall—took other views. It +was some weeks later that while dining with certain other friends of +his wife, he excused himself from the table, to quietly reappear at +the front window with a three-quarter-inch hydraulic pipe, and a +stream of water projected at the assembled company. An attempt was +made to take public cognizance of this; but a majority of the citizens +of Red Dog who were not at dinner decided that a man had a right to +choose his own methods of diverting his company. Nevertheless, there +were some hints of his insanity: his wife recalled other acts clearly +attributable to dementia; the crippled lover argued from his own +experience that the integrity of her limbs could only be secured by +leaving her husband's house; and the mortgagee, fearing a further +damage to his property, foreclosed. But here the cause of all this +anxiety took matters into his own hands and disappeared.</p> + +<p>When we next heard from him, he had in some mysterious way been +relieved alike of his wife and property and was living alone at +Rockville, fifty miles away, and editing a newspaper. But that +originality he had displayed when dealing with the problems of his own +private life, when applied to politics in the columns of <i>The +Rockville Vanguard</i> was singularly unsuccessful. An amusing +exaggeration, purporting to be an exact account of the manner in which +the opposing candidate had murdered his Chinese laundryman, was, I +regret to say, answered only by assault and battery. A gratuitous and +purely imaginative description of a great religious revival in +Calaveras, in which the sheriff of the county—a notoriously profane +skeptic—was alleged to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> been the chief exhorter, resulted only +in the withdrawal of the county advertising from the paper.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this practical confusion he suddenly died. It was then +discovered, as a crowning proof of his absurdity, that he had left a +will, bequeathing his entire effects to a freckle-faced maid-servant +at the Rockville Hotel. But that absurdity became serious when it was +also discovered that among these effects were a thousand shares in the +Rising Sun Mining Company, which a day or two after his demise, and +while people were still laughing at his grotesque benefaction, +suddenly sprang into opulence and celebrity. Three millions of dollars +was roughly estimated as the value of the estate thus wantonly +sacrificed. For it is only fair to state, as a just tribute to the +enterprise and energy of that young and thriving settlement, that +there was not probably a single citizen who did not feel himself +better able to control the deceased humorist's property. Some had +exprest a doubt of their ability to support a family; others had felt +perhaps too keenly the deep responsibility resting upon them when +chosen from the panel as jurors, and had evaded their public duties; a +few had declined office and a low salary; but no one shrank from the +possibility of having been called upon to assume the functions of +Peggy Moffat the heiress.</p> + +<p>The will was contested—first by the widow, who it now appeared had +never been legally divorced from the deceased; next by four of his +cousins, who awoke, only too late, to a consciousness of his moral and +pecuniary worth. But the humble legatee—a singularly plain, +unpretending,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> uneducated Western girl—exhibited a dogged pertinacity +in claiming her rights. She rejected all compromises. A rough sense of +justice in the community, while doubting her ability to take care of +the whole fortune, suggested that she ought to be content with three +hundred thousand dollars. "She's bound to throw even that away on some +derned skunk of a man, natoorally; but three millions is too much to +give a chap for makin' her onhappy. It's offerin' a temptation to +cussedness."</p> + +<p>The only opposing voice to this counsel came from the sardonic lips of +Mr. Jack Hamlin. "Suppose," suggested that gentleman, turning abruptly +on the speaker, "suppose, when you won twenty thousand dollars of me +last Friday night—suppose that instead of handing you over the money +as I did—suppose I'd got up on my hind legs and said, 'Look yer, Bill +Wethersbee, you're a d——d fool. If I give ye that twenty thousand +you'll throw it away in the first skin game in 'Frisco, and hand it +over to the first short card-sharp you'll meet. There's a +thousand—enough for you to fling away—take it and get!' Suppose what +I'd said to you was the frozen truth, and you knowed it, would that +have been the square thing to play on you?"</p> + +<p>But here Wethersbee quickly pointed out the inefficiency of the +comparison by stating that he had won the money fairly with a stake.</p> + +<p>"And how do you know," demanded Hamlin savagely, bending his black +eyes on the astonished casuist, "how do you know that the gal hezn't +put down a stake?"</p> + +<p>The man stammered an unintelligible reply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<p>The gambler laid his white hand on Wethersbee's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Look yer, old man," he said, "every gal stakes her whole pile—you +can bet your life on that—whatever's her little game. If she took to +keerds instead of her feelings, if she'd put up chips instead o' body +and soul, she'd burst every bank 'twixt this and 'Frisco! You hear +me?"</p> + +<p>Somewhat of this idea was conveyed, I fear not quite as sentimentally, +to Peggy Moffat herself. The best legal wisdom of San Francisco, +retained by the widow and relatives, took occasion, in a private +interview with Peggy, to point out that she stood in the +quasi-criminal attitude of having unlawfully practised upon the +affections of an insane elderly gentleman, with a view of getting +possession of his property; and suggested to her that no vestige of +her moral character would remain after the trial, if she persisted in +forcing her claims to that issue. It is said that Peggy, on hearing +this, stopt washing the plate she had in her hands, and twisting the +towel around her fingers, fixt her small pale blue eyes on the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"And ez that the kind o' chirpin' these critters keep up?"</p> + +<p>"I regret to say, my dear young lady," responded the lawyer, "that the +world is censorious. I must add," he continued, with engaging +frankness, "that we professional lawyers are apt to study the opinion +of the world, and that such will be the theory of—our side."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Peggy stoutly, "ez I allow I've got to go into court to +defend my character, I might as well pack in them three millions +too."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>There is hearsay evidence that Peg added to this speech a wish and +desire to "bust the crust" of her traducers, and remarking that "that +was the kind of hair-pin" she was, closed the conversation with an +unfortunate accident to the plate, that left a severe contusion on the +legal brow of her companion. But this story, popular in the bar-rooms +and gulches, lacked confirmation in higher circles....</p> + +<p>The case came to trial. Everybody remembers it—how for six weeks it +was the daily food of Calaveras County; how for six weeks the +intellectual and moral and spiritual competency of Mr. James Byways to +dispose of his property was discust with learned and formal obscurity +in the court, and with unlettered and independent prejudice by +camp-fires and in bar-rooms. At the end of that time, when it was +logically established that at least nine-tenths of the population of +Calaveras were harmless lunatics, and everybody else's reason seemed +to totter on its throne, an exhausted jury succumbed one day to the +presence of Peg in the courtroom. It was not a prepossessing presence +at any time; but the excitement, and an injudicious attempt to +ornament herself, brought her defects into a glaring relief that was +almost unreal. Every freckle on her face stood out and asserted itself +singly; her pale blue eyes, that gave no indication of her force of +character, were weak and wandering, or stared blankly at the judge; +her over-sized head, broad at the base, terminating in the scantiest +possible light colored braid in the middle of her narrow shoulders, +was as hard and uninteresting as the wooden spheres that topt the +railing against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> which she sat. The jury, who for six weeks had had +her described to them by the plaintiffs as an arch, wily enchantress, +who had sapped the failing reason of Jim Byways, revolted to a man. +There was something so appallingly gratuitous in her plainness that it +was felt that three millions was scarcely a compensation for it. "Ef +that money was give to her, she earned it sure, boys; it wasn't no +softness of the old man," said the foreman. When the jury retired, it +was felt that she had cleared her character; when they reentered the +room with their verdict, it was known that she had been awarded three +millions damages for its defamation.</p> + +<p>She got the money. But those who had confidently expected to see her +squander it were disappointed: on the contrary, it was presently +whispered that she was exceeding penurious. That admirable woman Mrs. +Stiver of Red Dog, who accompanied her to San Francisco to assist her +in making purchases, was loud in her indignation. "She cares more for +two bits than I do for five dollars. She wouldn't buy anything at the +'City of Paris' because it was 'too expensive,' and at last rigged +herself out a perfect guy at some cheap slop-shops in Market Street. +And after all the care Jane and me took of her, giving up our time and +experience to her, she never so much as made Jane a single present." +Popular opinion, which regarded Mrs. Stiver's attention as purely +speculative, was not shocked at this unprofitable denouement; but when +Peg refused to give anything to clear the mortgage off the new +Presbyterian church, and even declined to take shares in the Union +Ditch, considered by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> many as an equally sacred and safe investment, +she began to lose favor. Nevertheless, she seemed to be as regardless +of public opinion as she had been before the trial; took a small +house, in which she lived with an old woman who had once been a fellow +servant, on apparently terms of perfect equality, and looked after her +money.</p> + +<p>I wish I could say that she did this discreetly; but the fact is, she +blundered. The same dogged persistency she had displayed in claiming +her rights was visible in her unsuccessful ventures. She sunk two +hundred thousand dollars in a worn-out shaft originally projected by +the deceased testator; she prolonged the miserable existence of <i>The +Rockville Vanguard</i> long after it had ceased to interest even its +enemies; she kept the doors of the Rockville Hotel open when its +custom had departed; she lost the cooperation and favor of a fellow +capitalist through a trifling misunderstanding in which she was +derelict and impenitent; she had three lawsuits on her hands that +could have been settled for a trifle. I note these defects to show +that she was by no means a heroine. I quote her affair with Jack +Folinsbee to show she was scarcely the average woman....</p> + +<p>Nothing was known definitely until Jack a month later turned up in +Sacramento, with a billiard cue in his hand, and a heart overcharged +with indignant emotion.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind saying to you gentlemen in confidence," said Jack to a +circle of sympathizing players, "I don't mind telling you regarding +this thing, that I was as soft on that freckle-faced, red-eyed, +tallow-haired gal as if she'd been—a—a—an actress. And I don't mind +saying, gentlemen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> that as far as I understand women, she was just as +soft on me. You kin laugh; but it's so. One day I took her out +buggy-riding—in style too—and out on the road I offered to do the +square thing, just as if she'd been a lady—offered to marry her then +and there. And what did she do?" said Jack with a hysterical laugh. +"Why, blank it all! offered me twenty-five dollars a week +allowance—pay to be stopt when I wasn't at home!" The roar of +laughter that greeted this frank confession was broken by a quiet +voice asking, "And what did you say?" "Say?" screamed Jack, "I just +told her to go to —— with her money."...</p> + +<p>During the following year she made several more foolish ventures and +lost heavily. In fact, a feverish desire to increase her store at +almost any risk seemed to possess her. At last it was announced that +she intended to reopen the infelix Rockville Hotel, and keep it +herself. Wild as this scheme appeared in theory, when put into +practical operation there seemed to be some chance of success. Much +doubtless was owing to her practical knowledge of hotel-keeping, but +more to her rigid economy and untiring industry. The mistress of +millions, she cooked, washed, waited on table, made the beds, and +labored like a common menial. Visitors were attracted by this novel +spectacle. The income of the house increased as their respect for the +hostess lessened. No anecdote of her avarice was too extravagant for +current belief. It was even alleged that she had been known to carry +the luggage of guests to their rooms, that she might anticipate the +usual porter's gratuity. She denied herself the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> ordinary necessaries +of life. She was poorly clad, she was ill-fed—but the hotel was +making money.</p> + +<p>It was the particular fortune of Mr. Jack Hamlin to be able to set the +world right on this and other questions regarding her.</p> + +<p>A stormy December evening had set in when he chanced to be a guest of +the Rockville Hotel.... At midnight, when he was about to retire, he +was a little surprized however by a tap on his door, followed by the +presence of Mistress Peg Moffat, heiress, and landlady of Rockville +Hotel.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlin, despite his previous defense of Peg, had no liking for +her. His fastidious taste rejected her uncomeliness; his habits of +thought and life were all antagonistic to what he had heard of her +niggardliness and greed. As she stood there in a dirty calico wrapper, +still redolent with the day's <i>cuisine</i>, crimson with embarrassment +and the recent heat of the kitchen range, she certainly was not an +alluring apparition. Happily for the lateness of the hour, her +loneliness, and the infelix reputation of the man before her, she was +at least a safe one. And I fear the very consciousness of this +scarcely relieved her embarrassment....</p> + +<p>"I wanted to ask ye a favor about Mr.—about—Jack Folinsbee," began +Peg hurriedly. "He's ailin' agin, and is mighty low. And he's losin' a +heap o' money here and thar, and mostly to you. You cleaned him out of +two thousand dollars last night—all he had."</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the gambler coldly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought as you woz a friend o' mine, I'd ask ye to let up a +little on him," said Peg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> with an affected laugh. "You kin do it. +Don't let him play with ye."</p> + +<p>"Mistress Margaret Moffat," said Jack with lazy deliberation, taking off +his watch and beginning to wind it up, "ef you're that much stuck after +Jack Folinsbee, you kin keep him off of me much easier than I kin. You're a +rich woman. Give him enough money to break my bank, or break himself for +good and all; but don't keep him foolin' round me in hopes to make a raise. +It don't pay, Mistress Moffat—it don't pay!"...</p> + +<p>"When Jim Byways left me this yer property," she began, looking +cautiously around, "he left it to me on conditions; not conditions ez +waz in his written will, but conditions ez waz spoken. A promise I +made him in this very room, Mr. Hamlin—this very room, and on that +very bed you're sittin' on, in which he died."</p> + +<p>Like most gamblers, Mr. Hamlin was superstitious. He rose hastily from +the bed, and took a chair beside the window. The wind shook it as if +the discontented spirit of Mr. Byways were without, reenforcing his +last injunction.</p> + +<p>"I don't know if you remember him," said Peg feverishly. "He was a man +ez hed suffered. All that he loved—wife, fammerly, friends—had gone +back on him. He tried to make light of it afore folks; but with me, +being a poor gal, he let himself out. I never told anybody this. I +don't know why he told me; I don't know," continued Peggy with a +sniffle, "why he wanted to make me unhappy too. But he made me promise +that if he left me his fortune, I'd never, never—so help me +God!—never share it with any man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> or woman that I loved. I didn't +think it would be hard to keep that promise then, Mr. Hamlin, for I +was very poor, and hedn't a friend nor a living bein' that was kind to +me but him."</p> + +<p>"But you've as good as broken your promise already," said Hamlin. +"You've given Jack money, as I know."</p> + +<p>"Only what I made myself. Listen to me, Mr. Hamlin. When Jack proposed +to me, I offered him about what I kalkilated I could earn myself. When +he went away, and was sick and in trouble, I came here and took this +hotel. I knew that by hard work I could make it pay. Don't laugh at +me, please. I did work hard, and did make it pay—without takin' one +cent of the fortin'. And all I made, workin' by night and day, I gave +to him; I did, Mr. Hamlin. I ain't so hard to him as you think, tho I +might be kinder, I know."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlin rose, deliberately resumed his coat, watch, hat, and +overcoat. When he was completely drest again, he turned to Peg.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you've been givin' all the money you made +here to this A1 first-class cherubim?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but he didn't know where I got it. O Mr. Hamlin! he didn't know +that."</p> + +<p>"Do I understand you that he's been bucking agin faro with the money +that you raised on hash? and you makin' the hash?"</p> + +<p>"But he didn't know that. He wouldn't hev took it if I'd told him."</p> + +<p>"No, he'd hev died fust!" said Mr. Hamlin gravely. "Why, he's that +sensitive that it nearly kills him to take money even of me."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="JOHN_CHINAMAN" id="JOHN_CHINAMAN"></a>JOHN CHINAMAN<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a></h2> + +<p>The expression of the Chinese face in the aggregate is neither +cheerful nor happy. In an acquaintance of half a dozen years, I can +only recall one or two exceptions to this rule. There is an abiding +consciousness of degradation—a secret pain or self-humiliation +visible in the lines of the mouth and eye. Whether it is only a +modification of Turkish gravity, or whether it is the dread Valley of +the Shadow of the Drug through which they are continually straying, I +can not say. They seldom smile, and their laughter is of such an +extraordinary and sardonic nature—so purely a mechanical spasm, quite +independent of any mirthful attribute—that to this day I am doubtful +whether I ever saw a Chinaman laugh. A theatrical representation by +natives, one might think, would have set my mind at ease on this +point; but it did not. Indeed, a new difficulty presented itself—the +impossibility of determining whether the performance was a tragedy or +farce. I thought I detected the low comedian in an active youth who +turned two somersaults, and knocked everybody down on entering the +stage. But, unfortunately, even this classic resemblance to the +legitimate farce of our civilization was deceptive. Another brocaded +actor, who represented the hero of the play, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>turned three +somersaults, and not only upset my theory and his fellow actors at the +same time, but apparently ran amuck behind the scenes for some time +afterward. I looked around at the glinting white teeth to observe the +effect of these two palpable hits. They were received with equal +acclamation, and apparently equal facial spasms. One or two beheadings +which enlivened the play produced the same sardonic effect, and left +upon my mind a painful anxiety to know what was the serious business +of life in China. It was noticeable, however, that my unrestrained +laughter had a discordant effect, and that triangular eyes sometimes +turned ominously toward the "Fanqui devil"; but as I retired +discreetly before the play was finished, there were no serious +results. I have only given the above as an instance of the +impossibility of deciding upon the outward and superficial expression +of Chinese mirth. Of its inner and deeper existence I have some +private doubts. An audience that will view with a serious aspect the +hero, after a frightful and agonizing death, get up and quietly walk +off the stage, can not be said to have remarkable perceptions of the +ludicrous.</p> + +<p>I have often been struck with the delicate pliability of the Chinese +expression and taste that might suggest a broader and deeper criticism +than is becoming these pages. A Chinaman will adopt the American +costume, and wear it with a taste of color and detail that will +surpass those "native, and to the manner born." To look at a Chinese +slipper, one might imagine it impossible to shape the original foot to +anything less cumbrous and roomy, yet a neater-fitting boot than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> that +belonging to the Americanized Chinaman is rarely seen on this side of +the continent. When the loose sack or paletot takes the place of his +brocade blouse, it is worn with a refinement and grace that might +bring a jealous pang to the exquisite of our more refined +civilization. Pantaloons fall easily and naturally over legs that have +known unlimited freedom and bagginess, and even garrote collars meet +correctly around sun-tanned throats. The new expression seldom +overflows in gaudy cravats. I will back my Americanized Chinaman +against any neophyte of European birth in the choice of that article. +While in our own State, the greaser resists one by one the garments of +the Northern invader, and even wears the livery of his conqueror with +a wild and buttonless freedom, the Chinaman, abused and degraded as he +is, changes by correctly graded transition to the garments of +Christian civilization. There is but one article of European wear that +he avoids. These Bohemian eyes have never yet been pained by the +spectacle of a tall hat on the head of an intelligent Chinaman.</p> + +<p>My acquaintance with John has been made up of weekly interviews, +involving the adjustment of the washing accounts, so that I have not +been able to study his character from a social viewpoint or observe +him in the privacy of the domestic circle. I have gathered enough to +justify me in believing him to be generally honest, faithful, simple, +and painstaking. Of his simplicity let me record an instance where a +sad and civil young Chinaman brought me certain shirts with most of +the buttons missing and others hanging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> on delusively by a single +thread. In a moment of unguarded irony I informed him that unity would +at least have been preserved if the buttons were removed altogether. +He smiled sadly and went away. I thought I had hurt his feelings, +until the next week, when he brought me my shirts with a look of +intelligence, and the buttons carefully and totally erased. At another +time, to guard against his general disposition to carry off anything +as soiled clothes that he thought could hold water, I requested him to +always wait until he saw me. Coming home late one evening, I found the +household in great consternation over an immovable Celestial who had +remained seated on the front door-step during the day, sad and +submissive, firm but also patient, and only betraying any animation or +token of his mission when he saw me coming. This same Chinaman evinced +some evidences of regard for a little girl in the family, who in her +turn reposed such faith in his intellectual qualities as to present +him with a preternaturally uninteresting Sunday-school book, her own +property. This book John made a point of carrying ostentatiously with +him in his weekly visits. It appeared usually on the top of the clean +clothes, and was sometimes painfully clasped outside of the big bundle +of soiled linen. Whether John believed he unconsciously imbibed some +spiritual life through its pasteboard cover, as the Prince in the +"Arabian Nights" imbibed the medicine through the handle of the +mallet, or whether he wished to exhibit a due sense of gratitude, or +whether he hadn't any pockets, I have never been able to ascertain. In +his turn he would sometimes cut marvelous imitation roses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> from +carrots for his little friend. I am inclined to think that the few +roses strewn in John's path were such scentless imitations. The thorns +only were real. From the persecutions of the young and old of a +certain class his life was a torment. I don't know what was the exact +philosophy that Confucius taught, but it is to be hoped that poor John +in his persecution is still able to detect the conscious hate and fear +with which inferiority always regards the possibility of even-handed +justice, and which is the keynote to the vulgar clamor about servile +and degraded races.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> +<h2><a name="MLISS_GOES_TO_SCHOOL" id="MLISS_GOES_TO_SCHOOL"></a>M'LISS GOES TO SCHOOL<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></h2> + +<p>Just where the Sierra Nevada begins to subside in gentler undulations, +and the rivers grow less rapid and yellow, on the side of a great red +mountain, stands "Smith's Pocket." Seen from the red road at sunset, +in the red light and the red dust, its white houses look like the +outcroppings of quartz on the mountain-side. The red stage topped with +red-shirted passengers is lost to view half a dozen times in the +tortuous descent, turning up unexpectedly in out-of-the-way places, +and vanishing altogether within a hundred yards of the town. It is +probably owing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>to this sudden twist in the road that the advent of a +stranger at Smith's Pocket is usually attended with a peculiar +circumstance. Dismounting from the vehicle at the stage office, the +too confident traveler is apt to walk straight out of town under the +impression that it lies in quite another direction. It is related that +one of the tunnelmen, two miles from town, met one of these +self-reliant passengers with a carpet-bag, umbrella, <i>Harper's +Magazine</i>, and other evidences of "civilization and refinement," +plodding along over the road he had just ridden, vainly endeavoring to +find the settlement of Smith's Pocket.</p> + +<p>An observant traveler might have found some compensation for his +disappointment in the weird aspect of that vicinity. There were huge +fissures on the hillside, and displacements of the red soil, +resembling more the chaos of some primary elemental upheaval than the +work of man; while, half-way down, a long flume straddled its narrow +body and disproportionate legs over the chasm, like an enormous fossil +of some forgotten antediluvian. At every step smaller ditches crossed +the road, hiding in their sallow depths unlovely streams that crept +away to a clandestine union with the great yellow torrent below, and +here and there were the ruins of some cabin with the chimney alone +left intact and the hearthstone open to the skies.</p> + +<p>The settlement of Smith's Pocket owed its origin to the finding of a +"pocket" on its site by a veritable Smith. Five thousand dollars were +taken out of it in one half-hour by Smith. Three thousand dollars were +expended by Smith and others in erecting a flume and in tunnelling. +And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> then Smith's Pocket was found to be only a pocket, and subject, +like other pockets, to depletion. Altho Smith pierced the bowels of +the great red mountain, that five thousand dollars was the first and +last return of his labor. The mountain grew reticent of its golden +secrets, and the flume steadily ebbed away the remainder of Smith's +fortune. Then Smith went into quartz-mining; then into quartz-milling; +then into hydraulics and ditching, and then by easy degrees into +saloon-keeping. Presently it was whispered that Smith was drinking a +great deal; then it was known that Smith was a habitual drunkard, and +then people began to think, as they are apt to, that he had never been +anything else. But the settlement of Smith's Pocket, like that of most +discoveries, was happily not dependent on the fortune of its pioneer, +and other parties projected tunnels and found pockets. So Smith's +pocket became a settlement with its two fancy stores, its two hotels, +its one express office, and its two first families. Occasionally its +one long straggling street was overawed by the assumption of the +latest San Francisco fashions, imported per express, exclusively to +the first families; making outraged Nature, in the ragged outline of +her furrowed surface, look still more homely, and putting personal +insult on that greater portion of the population to whom the Sabbath, +with a change of linen, brought merely the necessity of cleanliness, +without the luxury of adornment. Then there was a Methodist church, +and hard by a Monte bank, and a little beyond, on the mountain-side, a +graveyard; and then a little schoolhouse.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The Master," as he was known to his little flock, sat alone one night +in the schoolhouse, with some open copy-books before him, carefully +making those bold and full characters which are supposed to combine +the extremes of chirographical and moral excellence, and had got as +far as "Riches are deceitful," and was elaborating the noun with an +insincerity of flourish that was quite in the spirit of his text, when +he heard a gentle tapping. The woodpeckers had been busy about the +roof during the day, and the noise did not disturb his work. But the +opening of the door, and the tapping continuing from the inside, +caused him to look up. He was slightly startled by the figure of a +young girl, dirty and shabbily clad. Still her great black eyes, her +coarse, uncombed, lusterless black hair falling over her sun-burned +face, her red arms and feet streaked with the red soil, were all +familiar to him. It was Melissa Smith—Smith's motherless child.</p> + +<p>"What can she want here?" thought the master. Everybody knew "M'liss," +as she was called, throughout the length and height of Red Mountain. +Everybody knew her as an incorrigible girl. Her fierce, ungovernable +disposition, her mad freaks and lawless character were in their way as +proverbial as the story of her father's weaknesses, and as +philosophically accepted by the townsfolk. She wrangled with and +fought the schoolboys with keener invective and quite as powerful arm. +She followed the trails with a woodman's craft, and the master had met +her before, miles away, shoeless, stockingless, and bareheaded, on the +mountain road. The miners'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> camps along the stream supplied her with +subsistence during these voluntary pilgrimages, in freely offered +alms. Not but that a larger protection had been previously extended to +M'liss. The Rev. Joshua McSnagley, "stated" preacher, had placed her +in the hotel as servant, by way of preliminary refinement, and had +introduced her to his scholars at Sunday school. But she threw plates +occasionally at the landlord, and quickly retorted to the cheap +witticisms of the guests, and created in the Sabbath school a +sensation that was so inimical to the orthodox dulness and placidity +of that institution, that, with a decent regard for the starched +frocks and unblemished morals of the two pink-and-white-faced children +of the first families, the reverend gentleman had her ignominiously +expelled. Such were the antecedents, and such the character of M'liss, +as she stood before the master. It was shown in the ragged dress, the +unkempt hair, and bleeding feet, and asked his pity. It flashed from +her black, fearless eyes, and commanded his respect.</p> + +<p>"I come here to-night," she said rapidly and boldly, keeping her hard +glance on his, "because I knew you was alone. I wouldn't come here +when them gals was here. I hate 'em and they hates me. That's why. You +keep school, don't you? I want to be teached!"</p> + +<p>If to the shabbiness of her apparel and uncomeliness of her tangled +hair and dirty face she had added the humility of tears, the master +would have extended to her the usual moiety of pity, and nothing more. +But with the natural, tho illogical instincts of his species, her +boldness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> awakened in him something of that respect which all original +natures pay unconsciously to one another in any grade. And he gazed at +her the more fixedly as she went on still rapidly, her hand on that +door-latch and her eyes on his:</p> + +<p>"My name's M'liss—M'liss Smith! You can bet your life on that. My +father's Old Smith—Old Bummer Smith—that's what's the matter with +him. M'liss Smith—and I'm coming to school!"</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the master.</p> + +<p>Accustomed to be thwarted and opposed, often wantonly and cruelly, for +no other purpose than to excite the violent impulses of her nature, +the master's phlegm evidently took her by surprize. She stopt; she +began to twist a lock of her hair between her fingers; and the rigid +line of upper lip, drawn over the wicked little teeth, relaxed and +quivered slightly. Then her eyes dropt, and something like a blush +struggled up to her cheek, and tried to assert itself through the +splashes of redder soil, and the sunburn of years. Suddenly she threw +herself forward, calling on God to strike her dead, and fell quite +weak and helpless, with her face on the master's desk, crying and +sobbing as if her heart would break.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> From "The Twins of Table Mountain." Copyright, 1879, by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> From "The Luck of Roaring Camp." Copyright, 1871, 1899, +Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> From M'Liss, one of the stories in "The Luck of Roaring +Camp" volume. Copyright, 1871, 1899. Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HENRY_JAMES" id="HENRY_JAMES"></a>HENRY JAMES</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Born in 1843; son of the elder Henry James; educated in +Europe; studied law at Harvard; began to write for +periodicals in 1866; has lived mostly in England since 1869; +"A Passionate Pilgrim" published in 1875, "The American" in +1877, "French Poets and Novelists" in 1878, "Daisy Miller" +in 1878, "Life of Hawthorne" in 1879, "Portrait of a Lady" +in 1881, "A Little Tour in France" in 1884, "The Bostonians" +in 1886, "What Maisie Knew" in 1897, "The Awkward Age" in +1899, "The Sacred Fount" in 1901.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> +<h2><a name="AMONG_THE_MALVERN_HILLS" id="AMONG_THE_MALVERN_HILLS"></a>AMONG THE MALVERN HILLS<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a></h2> + +<p>Between the fair boundaries of the counties of Hereford and Worcester +rise in a long undulation the sloping pastures of the Malvern Hills. +Consulting a big red book on the castles and manors of England, we +found Lockley Park to be seated near the base of this grassy range, +tho in which county I forget. In the pages of this genial volume +Lockley Park and its appurtenances made a very handsome figure. We +took up our abode at a certain little wayside inn, at which in the +days of leisure the coach must have stopt for lunch, and burnished +pewters of rustic ale been tenderly exalted to "outsides" athirst with +breezy progression. Here we stopt, for sheer admiration of its steep +thatched roof, its latticed windows, and its homely porch. We <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>allowed +a couple of days to elapse in vague undirected strolls and sweet +sentimental observance of the land, before we prepared to execute the +especial purpose of our journey. This admirable region is a compendium +of the general physiognomy of England. The noble friendliness of the +scenery, its subtle old friendliness, the magical familiarity of +multitudinous details, appealed to us at every step and at every +glance. Deep in our souls a natural affection answered. The whole +land, in the full, warm rains of the last of April, had burst into +sudden perfect spring. The dark walls of the hedge-rows had turned +into blooming screens; the sodden verdure of lawn and meadow was +streaked with a ranker freshness. We went forth without loss of time +for a long walk on the hills. Reaching their summits, you find half +England unrolled at your feet. A dozen broad counties, within the vast +range of your vision, commingle their green exhalations. Closely +beneath us lay the dark, rich flats of hedgy Worcestershire and the +copse-checkered slopes of rolling Hereford, white with the blossom of +apples. At widely opposite points of the large expanse two great +cathedral towers rise sharply, taking the light, from the settled +shadow of the circling towns—the light, the ineffable English light! +"Out of England," cried Searle, "it's but a garish world!"</p> + +<p>The whole vast sweep of our surrounding prospect lay answering in a +myriad fleeting shades the cloudy process of the tremendous sky. The +English heaven is a fit antithesis to the complex English earth. We +possess in America the infinite beauty of the blue; England possesses +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> splendor of combined and animated clouds. Over against us, from +our station on the hills, we saw them piled and dissolved, compacted +and shifted, blotting the azure with sullen rain-spots, stretching, +breeze-fretted, into dappled fields of gray, bursting into a storm of +light or melting into a drizzle of silver. We made our way along the +rounded summits of these well-grazed heights—mild, breezy inland +downs—and descended through long-drawn slopes of fields, green to +cottage doors, to where a rural village beckoned us from its seat +among the meadows. Close beside it, I admit, the railway shoots +fiercely from its tunnel in the hills; and yet there broods upon this +charming hamlet an old-time quietude and privacy, which seems to make +it a violation of confidence to tell its name so far away. We struck +through a narrow lane, a green lane, dim with its height of hedges; it +led us to a superb old farm-house, now jostled by the multiplied lanes +and roads which have curtailed its ancient appanage. It stands in +stubborn picturesqueness, at the receipt of sad-eyed contemplation and +the sufferance of "sketches." I doubt whether out of Nuremberg—or +Pompeii!—you may find so forcible an image of the domiciliary genius +of the past. It is cruelly complete; its bended beams and joists, +beneath the burden of its gables, seem to ache and groan with memories +and regrets. The short, low windows, where lead and glass combine in +equal proportions to hint to the wondering stranger of the medieval +gloom within, still prefer their darksome office to the grace of +modern day.</p> + +<p>Such an old house fills an American with an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> indefinable feeling of +respect. So propt and patched and tinkered with clumsy tenderness, +clustered so richly about its central English sturdiness, its oaken +vertebrations, so humanized with ages of use and touches of beneficent +affection, it seemed to offer to our grateful eyes a small, rude +synthesis of the great English social order. Passing out upon the +highroad, we came to the common browsing-patch, the "village green" of +the tales of our youth. Nothing was wanting; the shaggy, mouse-colored +donkey, nosing the turf with his mild and huge proboscis, the geese, +the old woman—the old woman, in person, with her red cloak and black +bonnet, frilled about the face and double-frilled beside her decent, +placid cheeks—the towering plowman with his white smock-frock, +puckered on chest and back, his short corduroys, his mighty calves, +his big, red, rural face. We greeted these things as children greet +the loved pictures in a story book, lost and mourned and found again. +It was marvelous how well we knew them. Beside the road we saw a +plow-boy straddle, whistling on a stile. Gainsborough might have +painted him. Beyond the stile, across the level velvet of a meadow, a +footpath lay, like a thread of darker woof. We followed it from field +to field and from stile to stile. It was the way to church. At the +church we finally arrived, lost in its rook-haunted churchyard, hidden +from the work-day world by the broad stillness of pastures—a gray, +gray tower, a huge black yew, a cluster of village graves, with +crooked headstones, in grassy, low relief. The whole scene was deeply +ecclesiastical. My companion was overcome.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You must bury me here," he cried. "It's the first church I have seen +in my life. How it makes a Sunday where it stands!"</p> + +<p>The next day we saw a church of statelier proportions. We walked over +to Worcester, through such a mist of local color that I felt like one +of Smollett's pedestrian heroes, faring tavern-ward for a night of +adventures. As we neared the provincial city we saw the steepled mass +of the cathedral, long and high, rise far into the cloud-freckled +blue. And as we came nearer still, we stopt on the bridge and viewed +the solid minster reflected in the yellow Severn. And going farther +yet we entered the town—where surely Miss Austen's heroines, in +chariots and curricles, must often have come a-shopping for +swan's-down boas and high lace mittens; we lounged about the gentle +close and gazed insatiably at that most soul-soothing sight, the +waning, wasting afternoon light, the visible ether which feels the +voices of the chimes, far aloft on the broad perpendicular field of +the cathedral tower; saw it linger and nestle and abide, as it loves +to do on all bold architectural spaces, converting them graciously +into registers and witnesses of nature; tasted, too, as deeply of the +peculiar stillness of this clerical precinct; saw a rosy English lad +come forth and lock the door of the old foundation school, which +marries its hoary basement to the soaring Gothic of the church, and +carry his big responsible key into one of the quiet canonical houses; +and then stood musing together on the effect on one's mind of having +in one's boyhood haunted such cathedral shades as a King's scholar, +and yet kept ruddy with much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> cricket in misty meadows by the Severn. +On the third morning we betook ourselves to Lockley Park, having +learned that the greater part of it was open to visitors, and that, +indeed, on application, the house was occasionally shown.</p> + +<p>Within its broad enclosure many a declining spur of the great hills +melted into parklike slopes and dells. A long avenue wound and circled +from the outermost gate through an untrimmed woodland, whence you +glanced at further slopes and glades and copses and bosky recesses—at +everything except the limits of the place. It was as free and wild and +untended as the villa of an Italian prince; and I have never seen the +stern English fact of property put on such an air of innocence. The +weather had just become perfect; it was one of the dozen exquisite +days of the English year—days stamped with a refinement of purity +unknown in more liberal climes. It was as if the mellow brightness, as +tender as that of the primroses which starred the dark waysides like +petals wind-scattered over beds of moss, had been meted out to us by +the cubic foot—tempered, refined, recorded!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> +<h2>II</h2> +<h2><a name="TURGENEFFS_WORLD" id="TURGENEFFS_WORLD"></a>TURGENEFF'S WORLD<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a></h2> + +<p>We hold to the good old belief that the presumption, in life, is in +favor of the brighter side, and we deem it, in art, an indispensable +condition of our interest in a deprest observer that he should have at +least tried his best to be cheerful. The truth, we take it, lies for +the pathetic in poetry and romance very much where it lies for the +"immoral." Morbid pathos is reflective pathos; ingenious pathos, +pathos not freshly born of the occasion; noxious immorality is +superficial immorality, immorality without natural roots in the +subject. We value most the "realists" who have an ideal of delicacy +and the elegiasts who have an ideal of joy.</p> + +<p>"Picturesque gloom, possibly," a thick and thin admirer of M. +Turgeneff's may say to us, "at least you will admit that it is +picturesque." This we heartily concede, and, recalled to a sense of +our author's brilliant diversity and ingenuity, we bring our +restrictions to a close. To the broadly generous side of his +imagination it is impossible to pay exaggerated homage, or, indeed, +for that matter, to its simple intensity and fecundity. No romancer +has created a greater number of the figures that breathe and move and +speak, in their habits as they might have lived; none, on the whole, +seems to us to have had such a masterly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>touch in portraiture, none +has mingled so much ideal beauty with so much unsparing reality. His +sadness has its element of error, but it has also its larger element +of wisdom. Life is, in fact, a battle. On this point optimists and +pessimists agree. Evil is insolent and strong; beauty enchanting but +rare; goodness very apt to be weak; folly very apt to be defiant; +wickedness to carry the day; imbeciles to be in great places, people +of sense in small, and mankind generally, unhappy. But the world as it +stands is no illusion, no fantasm, no evil dream of a night; we wake +up to it again for ever and ever; we can neither forget it nor deny it +nor dispense with it. We can welcome experience as it comes, and give +it what it demands, in exchange for something which it is idle to +pause to call much or little so long as it contributes to swell the +volume of consciousness. In this there is mingled pain and delight, +but over the mysterious mixture there hovers a visible rule, that bids +us learn to will and seek to understand.</p> + +<p>So much as this we seem to decipher between the lines of M. +Turgeneff's minutely written chronicle. He himself has sought to +understand as zealously as his most eminent competitors. He gives, at +least, no meager account of life, and he has done liberal justice to +its infinite variety. This is his great merit; his great defect, +roughly stated, is a tendency to the abuse of irony. He remains, +nevertheless, to our sense, a very welcome mediator between the world +and our curiosity. If we had space, we should like to set forth that +he is by no means our ideal story-teller—this honorable genius +possessing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> attributively, a rarer skill than the finest required for +producing an artful <i>réchauffé</i> of the actual. But even for better +romancers we must wait for a better world. Whether the world in its +higher state of perfection will occasionally offer color to scandal, +we hesitate to pronounce; but we are prone to conceive of the ultimate +novelist as a personage altogether purged of sarcasm. The imaginative +force now expended in this direction he will devote to describing +cities of gold and heavens of sapphire. But, for the present, we +gratefully accept M. Turgeneff, and reflect that his manner suits the +most frequent mood of the greater number of readers. If he were a +dogmatic optimist we suspect that, as things go, we should long ago +have ceased to miss him from our library. The personal optimism of +most of us no romancer can confirm or dissipate, and our personal +troubles, generally, place fictions of all kinds in an impertinent +light. To our usual working mood the world is apt to seem M. +Turgeneff's hard world, and when, at moments, the strain and the +pressure deepen, the ironical element figures not a little in our form +of address to those short-sighted friends who have whispered that it +is an easy one.</p> +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> From "A Passionate Pilgrim and Other Tales." Copyright, +1875. Houghton, Mifflin Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> From "French Poets and Novelists," published by +Macmillan & Company, of London.</p></div></div> + +<h3>END OF VOL. X</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="INDEX_TO_THE_TEN_VOLUMES" id="INDEX_TO_THE_TEN_VOLUMES"></a>INDEX TO THE TEN VOLUMES</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> +<p class="center">[Roman numerals indicate volumes, Arabic numerals indicate pages]</p> + +<div class="index"> +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Adams, Henry;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>;</li> +<li> Jefferson's retirement, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Adams, John;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 87;</li> +<li> articles by—on his nomination of Washington to be commander-in-chief, 87;</li> +<li> an estimate of Franklin, 90.</li></ul></li> +<li><b>Adams, John Quincy;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 133;</li> +<li> articles by—of his mother, 133;</li> +<li> the moral taint inherent in slavery, 135.</li></ul></li> +<li><b>Addison, Joseph;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 236;</li> +<li> articles by—in Westminster Abbey, 236;</li> +<li> Will Honeycomb and his marriage, 240;</li> +<li> on pride of birth, 246;</li> +<li> Sir Roger and his home, 251.</li></ul></li> +<li><b>Aldrich, Thomas Bailey;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—a sunrise in Stillwater, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>;</li> +<li> the fight at Slatter's Hill, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> +<li> on returning from Europe, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Andersen, Hans Christian;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 231;</li> +<li> the Emperor's new clothes, 231.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Aquinas, St. Thomas;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 12;</li> +<li> a definition of happiness, 12.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Aristotle;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, I, 149;</li> +<li> articles by—what things are pleasant, 149;</li> +<li> the lite most desirable, 155;</li> +<li> ideal husbands and wives, 158;</li> +<li> happiness as an end of human action, 165.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Arnold, Matthew;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 208;</li> +<li> on the motive for culture, 208.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Ascham, Roger;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 40;</li> +<li> article by—on gentle methods in teaching, 40.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Aucassin and Nicolette;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> note on the authorship of the work bearing that name, VII, 30;</li> +<li> a passage from the book, 30.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Audubon, John James;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 144;</li> +<li> where the mocking-bird dwells, 144.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Augustine, Aurelius St.;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 3;</li> +<li> on imperial power for good and bad men 3.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Bacon, Francis;</b> +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 53;</li> +<li> essays by—of travel, 53;</li> +<li> of riches, 56;</li> +<li> of youth and age, 60;</li> +<li> of revenge, 63;</li> +<li> of marriage and single life, 65;</li> +<li> of envy, 67;</li> +<li> of goodness and goodness of nature, 74;</li> +<li> of studies, 77;</li> +<li> of regiment of health, 79. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Balzac, Honoré de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 210;</li> +<li> articles by—the death of Père Goriot, 210;</li> +<li> Birotteau's early married life, 215.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Bancroft, George</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 217;</li> +<li> the fate of Evangeline's countrymen, 217.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Beaconsfield, Lord</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 31;</li> +<li> on Jerusalem by moonlight, 31.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Bellay, Joachim du</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 87;</li> +<li> why old French was not as rich as Greek and Latin, 87.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Blackstone, Sir William</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 169;</li> +<li> on professional soldiers in free countries, 169.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Boccaccio, Giovanni</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 167;</li> +<li> the patient Griselda, 167.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Boethius, Anicius</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 6;</li> +<li> on the highest happiness, 6.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Bolingbroke, Lord</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 32;</li> +<li> articles by—of the shortness of human life, 32;</li> +<li> rules for the study of history, 36.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Boswell, James</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on V, 3;</li> +<li> articles by—Boswell's introduction to Dr. Johnson, 3;</li> +<li> Johnson's audience with George III, 8;</li> +<li> the meeting of Johnson and John Wilkes, 15;</li> +<li> Johnson's wedding-day, 21.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Bradford, William</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 11;</li> +<li> his account of the landing of the Pilgrims, 11.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Bronté, Charlotte</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 119;</li> +<li> of the author of "Vanity Fair," 119.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Brown, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 56;</li> +<li> of Rab and the game chicken, 56.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Browne, Sir Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 114;</li> +<li> articles by—of charity in judgments, 114;</li> +<li> nothing strictly immortal, 116.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Bryant, William Cullen</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 194;</li> +<li> an October day in Florence, 194.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Buckle, Henry Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 198;</li> +<li> articles by—the isolation of Spain, 198;</li> +<li> George III and the elder Pitt, 204.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Bunyan, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 165;</li> +<li> articles by—a dream of the Celestial City, 165;</li> +<li> the death of Valiant-for-truth and of Stand-fast, 169;</li> +<li> ancient Vanity Fair, 172.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Burke, Edmund</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 194;</li> +<li> articles by—the principles of good taste, 194;</li> +<li> a letter to a noble lord, 207;</li> +<li> on the death of his son, 212;</li> +<li> Marie Antoinette, 214.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Burnet, Gilbert</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 195;</li> +<li> on Charles II, 195.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Bury, Richard de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 3;</li> +<li> in praise of books, 3.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Byrd, William</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 38;</li> +<li> at the home of Colonel Spotswood, 38. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Byron, Lord</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 134;</li> +<li> articles by—his mother's treatment of him, 134;</li> +<li> to his wife after the separation, 138;</li> +<li> to Sir Walter Scott, 140;</li> +<li> of art and nature as poetical subjects, 143.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Cæsar, Julius</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 61;</li> +<li> articles by—the building of the bridge across the Rhine, 61;</li> +<li> the invasion of Britain, 64;</li> +<li> overcoming the Nervii, 71;</li> +<li> the Battle of Pharsalia and the death of Pompey, 78.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Calvin, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 84;</li> +<li> of freedom for the will, 84.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Carlyle, Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 179;</li> +<li> articles by—Charlotte Corday, 179;</li> +<li> the blessedness of work, 187;</li> +<li> Cromwell, 190;</li> +<li> in praise of those who toil, 201;</li> +<li> the certainty of justice, 202;</li> +<li> the greatness of Scott, 206;</li> +<li> Boswell and his book, 214;</li> +<li> might Burns have been saved, 223.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Casanova, Jacques (Chevalier de Seingalt)</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 200;</li> +<li> an interview with Frederick the Great, 200.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Cato, the Censor</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 3;</li> +<li> on work on a Roman Farm, 3.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Caxton, William</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 22;</li> +<li> on true nobility and chivalry, 22.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Cellini, Benvenuto</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 182;</li> +<li> the casting of his Perseus and Medusa, 182.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Cervantes, Miguel de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 218;</li> +<li> articles by—the beginnings of Don Quixote's Career, 218;</li> +<li> how Don Quixote died, 224.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Channing, William E.</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 139;</li> +<li> of greatness in Napoleon, 139.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Chateaubriand, Viscomte de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 182;</li> +<li> in an American forest, 182.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Chaucer, Geoffrey</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 17;</li> +<li> on acquiring and using riches, 17.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Chesterfield, Lord</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 66;</li> +<li> articles by—on good manners, dress and the world, 66;</li> +<li> of attentions to ladies, 71.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Cicero</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 8;</li> +<li> articles by—the blessings of old age, 8;</li> +<li> on the death of his daughter Tullia, 34;</li> +<li> of brave and elevated spirits, 37;</li> +<li> of Scipio's death and of friendship, 43.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Clarendon, Lord</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 144;</li> +<li> on Charles I, 144.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Coleridge, Samuel Taylor</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 70;</li> +<li> articles by—does fortune favor fools? 70;</li> +<li> the destiny of the United States, 76.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Comines, Philipe de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 46;</li> +<li> the character of Louis XI, 46. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Cooper, James Fenimore</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 170;</li> +<li> articles by—his father's arrival at Otsego Lake, 170;</li> +<li> running the gantlet, 178;</li> +<li> Leather-stocking's farewell, 185.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Cowley, Abraham</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 156;</li> +<li> articles by—of obscurity, 156;</li> +<li> of procrastination, 159.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Cowper, William</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 217;</li> +<li> articles by—on keeping one's self employed, 217;</li> +<li> Johnson's treatment of Milton, 219;</li> +<li> the publication of his books, 221.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Curtis, George William</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>;</li> +<li> our cousin the curate, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Dana, Charles A.</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>;</li> +<li> Greeley as a man of genius, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Dana, Richard Henry (the younger)</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>;</li> +<li> a fierce gale under a clear sky, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>D'Angoulême, Marguerite</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 53;</li> +<li> of husbands who are unfaithful, 53.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Dante Alighieri</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 152;</li> +<li> articles by—that long descent makes no man noble, 152;</li> +<li> of Beatrice and her death, 157.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Darwin, Charles</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 47;</li> +<li> articles by—on variations in mammals, birds and fishes, 47;</li> +<li> on the genesis of his great book, 51.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Daudet, Alphonse</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 55;</li> +<li> articles by—a great man's widow, 55;</li> +<li> his first dress coat, 61.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Defoe, Daniel</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 201;</li> +<li> the shipwreck of Crusoe, 201;</li> +<li> the rescue of Man Friday, 204;</li> +<li> the time of the great plague, 211.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>De Quincey, Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 115;</li> +<li> articles by—dreams of an opium eater, 115;</li> +<li> Joan of Arc, 123;</li> +<li> Charles Lamb, 128.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Descartes, René</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 107;</li> +<li> of material things and of the existence of God, 107.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Dickens, Charles</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 86;</li> +<li> articles by—Sydney Carton's death, 86;</li> +<li> Bob Sawyer's party, 88;</li> +<li> Dick Swiveler and the Marchioness, 97;</li> +<li> a happy return of the day, 105.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Dryden, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 181;</li> +<li> of Elizabethan dramatists, 181.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Dumas, Alexander</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 241;</li> +<li> the shoulder, the belt and the handkerchief, 241.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Edwards, Jonathan</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 44;</li> +<li> on liberty and moral agencies, 44.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Eliot, George</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 167;</li> +<li> the Hall Farm, 167. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></li></ul></li> +<li><b>Emerson, Ralph Waldo</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 223;</li> +<li> articles by—Thoreau's broken task, 223;</li> +<li> the intellectual honesty of Montaigne, 229;</li> +<li> his visit to Carlyle at Craigenputtock, 231.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Epictetus</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, I, 223;</li> +<li> articles by—on freedom, 223;</li> +<li> on friendship, 229;</li> +<li> the philosopher and the crowd, 235.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Erasmus, Desiderius</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 209;</li> +<li> specimens of his wit and wisdom, 209.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Fielding, Henry</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 75;</li> +<li> articles by—Tom the hero enters the stage, 75;</li> +<li> Partridge sees Garrick at the play, 83;</li> +<li> Mr. Adams in a political light, 89.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Flaubert, Gustave</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 22;</li> +<li> Yonville and its people, 22.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Fox, George</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 161;</li> +<li> an interview with Oliver Cromwell, 161.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Foxe, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 45;</li> +<li> on the death of Anne Boleyn, 45.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Franklin, Benjamin</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 51;</li> +<li> articles by—his first entry into Philadelphia, 51;</li> +<li> warnings Braddock did not heed, 55;</li> +<li> how to draw lightning from the clouds, 59;</li> +<li> the way to wealth, 61;</li> +<li> a dialog with the gout, 68;</li> +<li> a proposal to Madame Helvetius, 76.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Freeman, Edward A.</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 214;</li> +<li> the death of William the Conqueror, 214.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Froissart, Jean</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 39;</li> +<li> the battle of Crécy, 39.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Froude, James Anthony</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 122;</li> +<li> articles by—of history as a science, 122;</li> +<li> the character of Henry VIII, 132;</li> +<li> Cæsar's mission, 136.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Fuller, Margaret</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—her visit to George Sand, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>;</li> +<li> two glimpses of Carlyle, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Fuller, Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 149;</li> +<li> on the qualities of the good school-master, 149.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Gautier, Theophile</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 14;</li> +<li> Pharaoh's entry into Thebes, 14.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Gibbon, Edward</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 226;</li> +<li> articles by—the romance of his youth, 226;</li> +<li> the inception and completion of his "Decline and Fall," 229;</li> +<li> the fall of Zenobia, 230;</li> +<li> Alaric's entry into Rome, 237;</li> +<li> the death of Hosein, 242;</li> +<li> the causes of the destruction of the city of Rome, 246.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 95;</li> +<li> articles by—on first reading Shakespeare, 95;</li> +<li> the coronation of Joseph II, 99. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Goldsmith, Oliver</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 177;</li> +<li> articles by—the ambitions of the vicar's family, 177;</li> +<li> sagacity in insects, 182;</li> +<li> a Chinaman's view of London, 188.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Gray, Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 141;</li> +<li> articles by—Warwick Castle, 141;</li> +<li> to his friend Mason on the death of Mason's mother, 143;</li> +<li> on his own writings, 144;</li> +<li> his friendship for Bonstetten, 146.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Greeley, Horace</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> +<li> the fatality of self-seeking in editors and authors, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Green, John Richard</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 242;</li> +<li> on George Washington, 242.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Grote, George</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 165;</li> +<li> articles by—the mutilation of the Hermæ, 165;</li> +<li> if Alexander had lived, 172.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Guizot, François</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 189;</li> +<li> Shakespeare as an example of civilization, 189.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Hamilton, Alexander</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 123;</li> +<li> articles by—of the failure of the Confederation, 123;</li> +<li> his reasons for not declining Burr's challenge, 129.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Harrison, Frederick</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 230;</li> +<li> the great books of the world, 230.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Harte, Bret</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—Peggy Moffat's inheritance, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>;</li> +<li> John Chinaman, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>;</li> +<li> M'liss goes to school, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Hawthorne, Nathaniel</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 235;</li> +<li> articles by—occupants of an old manse, 235;</li> +<li> Arthur Dimmesdale on the scaffold, 242;</li> +<li> of life at Brook Farm, 248;</li> +<li> the death of Judge Pyncheon, 252.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Hay, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;</li> +<li> Lincoln's early fame, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Hazlitt, William</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 111;</li> +<li> on Hamlet, 111.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Heine, Heinrich</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 139;</li> +<li> reminiscences of Napoleon, 139.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Herodotus</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, I, 3;</li> +<li> articles by—Solon's words of wisdom to Crœsus, 3;</li> +<li> Babylon and its capture by Cyrus, 9;</li> +<li> the pyramid of Cheops, 18;</li> +<li> the story of Periander's son, 20.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Holmes, Oliver Wendell</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—of doctors, lawyers and ministers, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>;</li> +<li> of the genius of Emerson, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>;</li> +<li> the house in which the professor lived, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>;</li> +<li> of women who put on airs, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Howell, James</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 106;</li> +<li> articles by—the Bucentaur in Venice, 106;</li> +<li> the city of Rome in 1621, 109.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Howells, William Dean</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</li> +<li> to Albany by the night boat, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Hugo, Victor</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 228;</li> +<li> articles by—the Battle of Waterloo, 228;</li> +<li> the beginnings and expansions of Paris, 235.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Humboldt, Alexander von</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 130;</li> +<li> an essay on man, 130.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Hume, David</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 110;</li> +<li> articles by—on the character of Queen Elizabeth, 110;</li> +<li> the defeat of the Armada, 113;</li> +<li> the first principles of government, 118.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Huxley, Thomas Henry</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 219;</li> +<li> a piece of chalk, 219.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Ibsen, Henrik</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 245;</li> +<li> the thought child, 245.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Irving, Washington</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 147;</li> +<li> articles by—the last of the Dutch governors of New York, 147;</li> +<li> the awakening of Rip Van Winkle, 151;</li> +<li> at Abbotsford with Scott, 161.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>James, Henry</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—among the Malvern Hills, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>;</li> +<li> Turgeneff's world, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Jefferson, Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 98;</li> +<li> articles by—when the Bastile fell, 98;</li> +<li> the futility of disputes, 106;</li> +<li> of blacks and whites in the South, 108;</li> +<li> his account of Logan's famous speech, 114.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Johnson, Samuel</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 94;</li> +<li> articles by—on publishing his "Dictionary," 94;</li> +<li> Pope and Dryden compared, 97;</li> +<li> his letter to Chesterfield on the completion of his "Dictionary," 101;</li> +<li> on the advantage of living in a garret, 104.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Joinville, Jean de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 27;</li> +<li> Greek fire in battle described, 27.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Jonson, Ben</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 87;</li> +<li> of Shakespeare and other wits, 87.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Kempis, Thomas à</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on VII, 16;</li> +<li> of eternal life and of striving for it, 16.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Kinglake, Alexander W.</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 42;</li> +<li> articles by—on mocking at the Sphinx, 42;</li> +<li> on the beginnings of the Crimean war 44.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Knox, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 36;</li> +<li> his account of his interview with Mary Queen of Scots, 36.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Lamartine, Alphonse de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 195;</li> +<li> of Mirabeau's origin and place in history, 195.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Lamb, Charles</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 93;</li> +<li> articles by—dream children, 93;</li> +<li> poor relations, 99;</li> +<li> the origin of roast pig, 102;</li> +<li> that we should rise with the lark, 107.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Landor, Walter Savage</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 87;</li> +<li> articles by—the death of Hofer, 87;</li> +<li> Napoleon and Pericles, 91. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><b>La Rochefoucauld, Duc de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 112;</li> +<li> selections from the "Maxims," 112.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Le Sage, Alain René</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 129;</li> +<li> articles by—in the service of Dr. Sangrado, 129;</li> +<li> as an archbishop's favorite, 135.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 86;</li> +<li> articles by—poetry and painting compared, 86;</li> +<li> of suffering in restraint, 89.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Livy</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 105;</li> +<li> articles by—Horatius Cocles at the bridge, 105;</li> +<li> Hannibal's crossing of the Alps, 108;</li> +<li> Hannibal and Scipio at Zama, 117.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> +<li> musings in Père Lachaise, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Lowell, James Russell</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—the poet as prophet, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</li> +<li> the first of the moderns, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> +<li> of faults found in Shakespeare, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>;</li> +<li> Americans as successors of the Dutch, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Lucian</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, I, 237;</li> +<li> articles by—a descent to the unknown, 237;</li> +<li> among the philosophers, 243;</li> +<li> of liars and lying, 253.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Luther, Martin</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 79;</li> +<li> some of his table talk and sayings, 79.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Lytton, Edward Bulwer</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 21;</li> +<li> his description of the descent of Vesuvius on Pompeii, 21.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Macaulay, Lord</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 233;</li> +<li> articles by—Puritan and Royalist, 233;</li> +<li> Cromwell's army, 238;</li> +<li> the opening of the trial of Warren Hastings, 242;</li> +<li> the gift of Athens to man, 248;</li> +<li> the pathos of Byron's life, 251.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Machiavelli, Niccolo</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 178;</li> +<li> ought princes to keep their promises, 178.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Malory, Sir Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 26;</li> +<li> article by—on the finding of a sword for Arthur, 26.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Mandeville, Sir John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 8;</li> +<li> articles by—the route from England to Constantinople, 8;</li> +<li> at the court of the great Chan, 11.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Marcus Aurelius</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 248;</li> +<li> his debt to others, 248.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Mather, Cotton</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 33;</li> +<li> in praise of John Eliot, 33.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Maupassant, Guy de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 69;</li> +<li> Madame Jeanne's last days, 69.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Merivale, Charles</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 37;</li> +<li> on the personality of Augustus, 37.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Milton, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 121;</li> +<li> articles by—on his own literary ambitions, 121;</li> +<li> a complete education defined, 126;</li> +<li> on reading in his youth, 129; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></li> +<li> in defense of books, 131;</li> +<li> a noble and puissant nation, 135;</li> +<li> of fugitive and cloistered virtue, 141.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 58;</li> +<li> articles by—on happiness in the matrimonial state, 58;</li> +<li> inoculation for the smallpox, 63.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Montaigne, Michel de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 90;</li> +<li> articles by—a word to his readers, 90;</li> +<li> of society and solitude, 92;</li> +<li> of his own library, 94;</li> +<li> that the soul discharges her passions among false objects where true ones are wanting, 99;</li> +<li> that men are not to judge of our happiness until after death, 102.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Montesquieu, Baron de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 150;</li> +<li> articles by—of the causes which destroyed Rome, 150;</li> +<li> of the relation of laws to different human beings, 156.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>More, Sir Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 29;</li> +<li> on life in Utopia, 29.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Morley, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 244;</li> +<li> on Voltaire as an author and man of action, 244.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Morris, Gouverneur</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 117;</li> +<li> articles by—the opening of the French States-General, 117;</li> +<li> the execution of Louis XVI, 120.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Motley, John Lothrop</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—Charles V and Phillip II in Brussels, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> +<li> the arrival of the Spanish Armada, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</li> +<li> "The Spanish Fury," <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Musset, Alfred de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 8;</li> +<li> Titian's son after a night at play, 8.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Newman, John Henry</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 3;</li> +<li> articles by—on the beginnings of tractarianism, 3;</li> +<li> on his submission to the Catholic Church, 7;</li> +<li> of Athens as a true university, 13.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Paine, Thomas</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 94;</li> +<li> in favor of the separation of the colonies from Great Britain, 94.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Parkman, Francis</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—Champlain's battle with the Iroquois, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>;</li> +<li> the death of LaSalle, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>;</li> +<li> the coming of Frontenae to Canada, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>;</li> +<li> the death of Isaac Jogues, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>;</li> +<li> why New France failed, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>;</li> +<li> the return of the Coureurs-de-Bois, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Parton, James</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> +<li> Aaron Burr and Madame Jumel, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Pascal, Blaise</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 118;</li> +<li> of the prevalence of self-love, 118.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Pepys, Samuel</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 185;</li> +<li> on various doings of Mr. and Mrs. Pepys, 185;</li> +<li> of England without Cromwell, 191. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Petrarch, Francis</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 162;</li> +<li> of good and evil fortune, 162.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Plato</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, I, 95;</li> +<li> articles by—the image of the cave, 95;</li> +<li> of good and evil, 103;</li> +<li> Socrates in praise of love, 108;</li> +<li> the praise of Socrates by Alcibiades, 121;</li> +<li> the refusal of Socrates to escape from prison, 133;</li> +<li> the death of Socrates, 143.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Pliny, the Elder</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 162;</li> +<li> articles by—the qualities of the dog, 162;</li> +<li> three great artists of Greece, 165.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Pliny, the younger</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 218;</li> +<li> articles by—the Christians in his province, 218;</li> +<li> to Tacitus on the eruption of Vesuvius, 222.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Plutarch</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, I, 190;</li> +<li> articles by—Demosthenes and Cicero compared, 190;</li> +<li> the assassination of Cæsar, 197;</li> +<li> Cleopatra's barge, 207;</li> +<li> the death of Antony and Cleopatra, 211.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Poe, Edgar Allan</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—the cask of Amontillado, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> +<li> of Hawthorne and the short story, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>;</li> +<li> of Willis, Bryant, Halleck and Macaulay, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Polo, Marco</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 147;</li> +<li> a description of Japan, 147.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Polybius</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, I, 171;</li> +<li> articles by—the battle of Cannæ, 171;</li> +<li> Hannibal's advance on Rome, 178;</li> +<li> the defense of Syracuse by Archimedes, 183.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Pope, Alexander</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 41;</li> +<li> articles by—an ancient English country seat, 41;</li> +<li> his compliments to Lady Mary, 47;</li> +<li> how to make an epic poem, 52.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Prescott, William H.</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 198;</li> +<li> articles by—the fate of Egmont and Hoorne, 198;</li> +<li> the genesis of "Don Quixote," 209.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Quintillian</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 171;</li> +<li> articles by—on the orator as a good man, 171.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Rabelais, François</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 58;</li> +<li> articles by—Gargantua and his childhood, 58;</li> +<li> Gargantua's education, 64;</li> +<li> of the founding of an ideal abbey, 74.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Raleigh, Sir Walter</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 49;</li> +<li> on the mutability of human affairs, 49.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Renan, Joseph Ernest</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 30;</li> +<li> the Roman empire in robust youth, 30.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Rousseau, Jean Jacques</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 170;</li> +<li> articles by—of Christ and Socrates, 170;</li> +<li> of the management of children, 173. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Ruskin, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 140;</li> +<li> articles by—of the history and sovereignty of Venice, 140;</li> +<li> St. Marks at Venice, 151;</li> +<li> of water, 159.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Saint-Simon, Duc de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 141;</li> +<li> articles by—the death of the Dauphin, 141;</li> +<li> the public watching the king and madame, 145.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Sallust</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 91;</li> +<li> articles by—the genesis of Catiline, 91;</li> +<li> the fate of the conspirators, 98.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Sand, George</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 250;</li> +<li> Leila and the poet, 250.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Schiller, Friedrich von</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 107;</li> +<li> articles by—the battle of Lutzen, 107;</li> +<li> Philip II and the Netherlands, 117.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Schlegel, August Wilhelm von</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 124;</li> +<li> on Shakespeare's "Macbeth," 124.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Scott, Sir Walter</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 31;</li> +<li> articles by—the arrival of the master of Ravenswood, 31;</li> +<li> the death of Meg Merriles, 35;</li> +<li> a vision of Rob Roy, 40;</li> +<li> Queen Elizabeth and Amy Robsart at Kenilworth, 48;</li> +<li> the illness and death of Lady Scott, 62.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Seneca</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 128;</li> +<li> articles by—the wise man, 128;</li> +<li> consolation for the loss of friends, 134;</li> +<li> to Nero on clemency, 141;</li> +<li> the pilot, 149;</li> +<li> a happy life, 153.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Sévigné, Madame de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 123;</li> +<li> articles by—great news from Paris, 123;</li> +<li> an imposing funeral described, 125.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Sewall, Samuel</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 19;</li> +<li> his account of how he courted Madame Winthrop, 19.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Shakespeare, William</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 82;</li> +<li> the speech of Brutus to his countrymen, 82;</li> +<li> Shylock in defense of his race, 83;</li> +<li> Hamlet to the players, 85.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Shelley, Percy Bysshe</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 151;</li> +<li> articles by—in defense of poetry, 151;</li> +<li> the baths of Caracalla, 155;</li> +<li> the ruins of Pompeii, 158.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Smith, Adam</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 163;</li> +<li> articles by—of ambition misdirected, 163;</li> +<li> the advantages of a division of labor, 166.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Smith, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 3;</li> +<li> his story of Pocahontas, 3.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Southey, Robert</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 80;</li> +<li> Nelson's death at Trafalgar, 80.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Spencer, Herbert</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 173;</li> +<li> articles by—the origin of professional occupations, 173;</li> +<li> self-dependence and paternalism, 181;</li> +<li> the ornamental and the useful in education, 186;</li> +<li> reminiscences of his boyhood, 191;</li> +<li> a tribute to E. L. Youmans, 195;</li> +<li> why he never married, 197. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Staël, Madame de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 178;</li> +<li> of Napoleon Bonaparte, 178.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Steele, Sir Richard</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 3;</li> +<li> articles by—of companions and flatterers, 3;</li> +<li> the story-teller and his art, 7;</li> +<li> Sir Roger and the widow, 10;</li> +<li> the Coverley family portraits, 16;</li> +<li> on certain symptoms of greatness, 21;</li> +<li> how to be happy tho married, 26.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Sterne, Laurence</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 123;</li> +<li> articles by—the starling in captivity, 123;</li> +<li> to Moulines with Maria, 127;</li> +<li> the death of LeFevre, 129;</li> +<li> passages from the romance of my Uncle Toby and the widow, 131.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Stevenson, Robert Louis</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 247;</li> +<li> articles by—Francis Villon's terrors, 247;</li> +<li> the lantern bearers, 251.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Suetonius</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 231;</li> +<li> articles by—the last days of Augustus, 231;</li> +<li> the good deeds of Nero, 236;</li> +<li> the death of Nero, 241.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Swift, Jonathan</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 216;</li> +<li> on pretense in philosophers, 216;</li> +<li> on the hospitality of the vulgar, 221;</li> +<li> the art of lying in politics, 224;</li> +<li> a meditation upon a broomstick, 228;</li> +<li> Gulliver among the giants, 230.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Tacitus</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, II, 177;</li> +<li> articles by—from Republican to Imperial Rome, 177;</li> +<li> the funeral of Germanicus, 183;</li> +<li> the death of Seneca, 189;</li> +<li> the burning of Rome by order of Nero, 193;</li> +<li> the burning of the capitol at Rome, 202;</li> +<li> the siege of Cremona, 205;</li> +<li> Agricola, 212.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Taine, Hippolite Adolphe</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 38;</li> +<li> articles by—on Thackeray as a satirist, 38;</li> +<li> on the king's getting up for the day, 43.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Taylor, Jeremy</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 153;</li> +<li> on the benefits of adversity, 153.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Thackeray, William M.</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VI, 62;</li> +<li> articles by—the imperturbable Marlborough, 62;</li> +<li> the ball before the battle of Waterloo, 65;</li> +<li> the death of Colonel Newcome, 75;</li> +<li> London in the time of the first George, 80.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Thiers, Louis Adolph</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 201;</li> +<li> the burning of Moscow, 201.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Thoreau, Henry David</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</li> +<li> articles by—the building of his house at Walden Pond, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</li> +<li> how to make two small ends meet, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>;</li> +<li> on reading the ancient classics, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</li> +<li> of society and solitude, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Thucydides</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, I, 25;</li> +<li> articles by—the Athenians and Spartans contrasted, 25;</li> +<li> the plague at Athens, 38; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></li> +<li> the sailing of the Athenian fleet for Sicily, 45;</li> +<li> the completion of the Athenian defeat at Syracuse, 52.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Tocqueville, Alexis de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 3;</li> +<li> on the tyranny of the American majority, 3.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Tolstoy, Count Leo</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 252;</li> +<li> Shakespeare not a great genius, 252.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Turgeneff, Ivan</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 239;</li> +<li> Bazarov's death, 239.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Vasari, Giorgio</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 192;</li> +<li> of Raphael and his early death, 192.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Vigny, Alfred de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 222;</li> +<li> Richelieu's way with his master, 222.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Ville-Hardouin, Geoffrey de</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 23;</li> +<li> the sack of Constantinople, 23.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Voltaire, François Arouet</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VII, 160;</li> +<li> articles by—of Bacon's greatness, 160;</li> +<li> England's regard for men of letters, 164.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Walpole, Horace</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 149;</li> +<li> articles by—on Hogarth, 149;</li> +<li> the war in America, 154;</li> +<li> the death of George II, 155.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Walton, Izaak</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 92;</li> +<li> articles by—the antiquity of angling, 92;</li> +<li> of the trout, 96;</li> +<li> the death of George Herbert, 101.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Ward, Artemus</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, X, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>;</li> +<li> Forrest as Othello, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Washington, George</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IX, 79;</li> +<li> articles by—to his wife on taking command of the army, 79;</li> +<li> of his army in Cambridge, 81;</li> +<li> to the Marquis de Chastellux on his marriage, 84.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>White, Gilbert</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, IV, 158;</li> +<li> on the chimney swallow, 158.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Wordsworth, William</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, V, 23;</li> +<li> a poet defined, 23.</li></ul></li> + +<li><b>Wyclif, John</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, III, 4;</li> +<li> a passage from his translation of the Bible, 14.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Xenophon</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, I, 68;</li> +<li> articles by—the character of Cyrus the younger, 68;</li> +<li> the Greek army in the snows of Armenia, 75;</li> +<li> the battle of Leuctra, 81;</li> +<li> the army of the Spartans, 84;</li> +<li> how to choose and manage saddle horses, 87.</li></ul></li> +</ul> + + +<ul class="IX"> +<li><b>Zola, Emile</b>; +<ul class="IX"> +<li> biographical note on, VIII, 48;</li> +<li> Napoleon III in time of war, 48.</li></ul></li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Best of the World's Classics, +Restricted to Prose, Vol. X (of X) - America - II, Index, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST OF THE WORLD'S CLASSICS *** + +***** This file should be named 29145-h.htm or 29145-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/1/4/29145/ + +Produced by Joseph R. Hauser, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/29145-h/images/image_01.jpg b/29145-h/images/image_01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9eb88ed --- /dev/null +++ b/29145-h/images/image_01.jpg diff --git a/29145-h/images/image_02.jpg b/29145-h/images/image_02.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e87a3a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/29145-h/images/image_02.jpg diff --git a/29145-h/images/image_03.jpg b/29145-h/images/image_03.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..296f614 --- /dev/null +++ b/29145-h/images/image_03.jpg diff --git a/29145.txt b/29145.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..21b6703 --- /dev/null +++ b/29145.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8634 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Best of the World's Classics, +Restricted to Prose, Vol. X (of X) - America - II, Index, 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: The Best of the World's Classics, Restricted to Prose, Vol. X (of X) - America - II, Index + +Author: Various + +Editor: Henry Cabot Lodge + Francis W. Halsey + +Release Date: June 17, 2009 [EBook #29145] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST OF THE WORLD'S CLASSICS *** + + + + +Produced by Joseph R. Hauser, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + [Illustration: POE, LOWELL, LONGFELLOW, PARKMAN] + + + + THE BEST + + _of the_ + + WORLD'S CLASSICS + + RESTRICTED TO PROSE + + + + HENRY CABOT LODGE + + _Editor-in-Chief_ + + + FRANCIS W. HALSEY + + _Associate Editor_ + + + + With an Introduction, Biographical and + Explanatory Notes, etc. + + + IN TEN VOLUMES + + + Vol. X + + AMERICA--II + + INDEX + + + + + FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY + + NEW YORK AND LONDON + + + COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY + + FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY + + * * * * * + + + + +The Best of the World's Classics + +VOL. X + +AMERICA--II + +1807-1909 + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + +VOL. X--AMERICA--II + + + _Page_ +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW--(Born in 1807, died in 1882.) + Musings in Pere Lachaise. + (From "Outre-Mer") 3 + +EDGAR ALLAN POE--(Born in 1809, died in 1849.) + I The Cask of Amontillado. + (Published originally in _Godey's Magazine_ in 1846) 11 + II Of Hawthorne and the Short Story. + (From a review of Hawthorne's "Twice Told Tales" + and "Mosses from an Old Manse" published + in _Godey's Magazine_ in 1846) 19 + III Of Willis, Bryant, Halleck and Macaulay. + (Passages selected from articles printed in + Volume II of the "Works of Poe") 25 + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES--(Born in 1809, died in 1894.) + I Of Doctors, Lawyers and Ministers. + (From Chapter V of "The Poet at the Breakfast Table") 31 + II Of the Genius of Emerson. + (From an address before the Massachusetts Historical + Society in 1882) 36 + III The House in Which the Professor Lived. + (From Part X of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast + Table") 42 + IV Of Women Who Put on Airs. + (From Part XI of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast + Table") 49 + +MARGARET FULLER--(Born in 1810, lost in a shipwreck off + Fire Island in 1850.) + I Her Visit to George Sand. + (From a letter to Elizabeth Hoar) 52 + II Two Glimpses of Carlyle. + (From a letter to Emerson) 54 + +HORACE GREELEY--(Born in 1811, died in 1872.) + The Fatality of Self-Seeking in Editors and Authors. + (Printed with the "Miscellanies" in the "Recollections + of a Busy Life") 58 + +JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY--(Born in 1814, died in 1877.) + I Charles V and Philip II in Brussels. + (From Chapter I of "The Rise of the Dutch Republic") 63 + II The Arrival of the Spanish Armada. + (From Chapter XIX of the "History of the United + Netherlands") 74 + III "The Spanish Fury." + (From Part IV, Chapter V, of + "The Rise of the Dutch Republic") 84 + +RICHARD HENRY DANA, THE YOUNGER--(Born in 1815, died in 1882.) + A Fierce Gale under a Clear Sky. + (From "Two Years Before the Mast") 93 + +HENRY DAVID THOREAU--(Born in 1817, died in 1862.) + I The Building of His House at Walden Pond. + (From Chapter I of "Walden, or, Life in the Woods") 99 + II How to Make Two Small Ends Meet. + (From Chapters I and II of "Walden") 103 + III On Reading the Ancient Classics. + (From Chapter III of "Walden") 115 + IV Of Society and Solitude. + (From Chapter IV of "Walden") 120 + +JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL--(Born in 1819, died in 1891.) + I The Poet as Prophet. + (From an essay contributed to _The Pioneer_ in 1843) 125 + II The First of the Moderns. + (From the first essay in the first series, entitled + "Among My Books") 129 + III Of Faults Found in Shakespeare. + (From the essay entitled "Shakespeare Once More," + printed in the first series entitled "Among My Books") 133 + IV Americans as Successors of the Dutch. + (From the essay entitled "On a Certain Condescension + in Foreigners," printed in "From My Study Window") 138 + +CHARLES A. DANA--(Born in 1819, died in 1897.) + Greeley as a Man of Genius. + (From an article printed in the New York _Sun_, + December 5, 1872) 146 + +JAMES PARTON--(Born in 1822, died in 1891.) + Aaron Burr and Madame Jumel. + (From his "Life of Burr") 150 + +FRANCIS PARKMAN--(Born in 1823, died in 1893.) + I Champlain's Battle with the Iroquois. + (From Chapter X of "The Pioneers of France + in the New World") 157 + II The Death of La Salle. + (From Chapter XXV of "La Salle and the Discovery + of the Great West") 161 + III The Coming of Frontenac to Canada. + (From Chapters I and II of "Count Frontenac and + New France") 167 + IV The Death of Isaac Jogues. + (From Chapters XVI and XX of "The Jesuits in + North America") 171 + V Why New France Failed. + (From the Introduction to "The Pioneers of France + in the New World") 176 + VI The Return of the Coureurs-de-Bois. + (From Chapter XVIII of "The Old Regime in Canada") 179 + +GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS--(Born in 1824, died in 1892.) + Our Cousin the Curate. + (From Chapter VII of "Prue and I") 183 + +ARTEMUS WARD--(Born in 1824, died in 1867.) + Forrest as Othello. + (From "Artemus Ward, His Book") 191 + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH--(Born in 1836, died in 1908.) + I A Sunrise in Stillwater. + (From Chapter I of "The Stillwater Tragedy") 195 + II The Fight at Slatter's Hill. + (From Chapter XIII of "The Story of a Bad Boy") 198 + III On Returning from Europe. + (From Chapter IX of "From Ponkapog to Pesth") 204 + +WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS--(Born in 1837.) + To Albany by the Night Boat. + (From Chapter III of "The Wedding Journey") 207 + +JOHN HAY--(Born in 1838, died in 1905.) + Lincoln's Early Fame. + (From Volume X, Chapter XVIII of "Abraham Lincoln, + A History") 211 + +HENRY ADAMS--(Born in 1838.) + Jefferson's Retirement. + (From the "History of the United States") 219 + +BRET HARTE--(Born in 1839, died in 1902.) + I Peggy Moffat's Inheritance. + (From "The Twins of Table Mountain") 224 + II John Chinaman. + (From "The Luck of Roaring Camp") 236 + III M'liss Goes to School. + (From "M'liss," one of the stories in "The Luck + of Roaring Camp") 240 + +HENRY JAMES--(Born in 1843.) + I Among the Malvern Hills. + (From "A Passionate Pilgrim and Other Tales") 246 + II Turgeneff's World. + (From "French Poets and Novelists") 252 + +INDEX TO THE TEN VOLUMES 255 + + * * * * * + + + + +VOL. X + +AMERICA--II + +1807-1909 + + * * * * * + + + + +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW + + Born in 1807, died in 1882; graduated from Bowdoin in 1825; + traveled in Europe in 1826-29; professor at Bowdoin in + 1829-35; again visited Europe in 1835-86; professor at + Harvard in 1836-54; published "Voices of the Night" in 1839, + "Evangeline" in 1847, "Hiawatha" in 1855, "Miles Standish" + in 1858; "Tales of a Wayside Inn" in 1863, a translation of + Dante in 1867-70, "The Divine Tragedy" in 1871, and many + other volumes of verse; his prose writings include + "Outre-Mer," published in 1835, and two novels, "Hyperion," + published in 1839, and "Kavanagh," in 1849. + + + + +MUSINGS IN PERE LACHAISE[1] + + +The cemetery of Pere Lachaise is the Westminster Abbey of Paris. Both +are the dwellings of the dead; but in one they repose in green alleys +and beneath the open sky--in the other their resting place is in the +shadowy aisle and beneath the dim arches of an ancient abbey. One is a +temple of nature; the other a temple of art. In one the soft +melancholy of the scene is rendered still more touching by the warble +of birds and the shade of trees, and the grave receives the gentle +visit of the sunshine and the shower: in the other no sound but the +passing footfall breaks the silence of the place; the twilight steals +in through high and dusky windows; and the damps of the gloomy vault +lie heavy on the heart, and leave their stain upon the moldering +tracery of the tomb. + +[Footnote 1: From "Outre-Mer."] + +Pere Lachaise stands just beyond the Barriere d'Aulney, on a hillside +looking toward the city. Numerous gravel walks, winding through shady +avenues and between marble monuments, lead up from the principal +entrance to a chapel on the summit. There is hardly a grave that has +not its little enclosure planted with shrubbery, and a thick mass of +foliage half conceals each funeral stone. The sighing of the wind, as +the branches rise and fall upon it--the occasional note of a bird +among the trees, and the shifting of light and shade upon the tombs +beneath have a soothing effect upon the mind; and I doubt whether any +one can enter that enclosure, where repose the dust and ashes of so +many great and good men, without feeling the religion of the place +steal over him, and seeing something of the dark and gloomy expression +pass off from the stern countenance of Death. + +It was near the close of a bright summer afternoon that I visited this +celebrated spot for the first time. The first object that arrested my +attention on entering was a monument in the form of a small Gothic +chapel which stands near the entrance, in the avenue leading to the +right hand. On the marble couch within are stretched two figures, +carved in stone and drest in the antique garb of the Middle Ages. It +is the tomb of Abelard and Heloise. The history of these two +unfortunate lovers is too well known to need recapitulation; but +perhaps it is not so well known how often their ashes were disturbed +in the slumber of the grave. Abelard died in the monastery of St. +Marcel, and was buried in the vaults of the church. His body was +afterward removed to the convent of the Paraclete, at the request of +Heloise, and at her death her body was deposited in the same tomb. +Three centuries they reposed together; after which they were separated +to different sides of the church, to calm the delicate scruples of the +lady abbess of the convent. More than a century afterward they were +again united in the same tomb; and when at length the Paraclete was +destroyed, their moldering remains were transported to the church of +Nogent-sur-Seine. They were next deposited in an ancient cloister at +Paris, and now repose near the gateway of the cemetery of Pere +Lachaise. What a singular destiny was theirs! that, after a life of +such passionate and disastrous love--such sorrows, and tears, and +penitence--their very dust should not be suffered to rest quietly in +the grave!--that their death should so much resemble their life in its +changes and vicissitudes, its partings and its meetings, its +inquietudes and its persecutions!--that mistaken zeal should follow +them down to the very tomb--as if earthly passion could glimmer, like +a funeral lamp, amid the damps of the charnel house, and "even in +their ashes burn their wonted fires"! + +As I gazed on the sculptured forms before me, and the little chapel +whose Gothic roof seemed to protect their marble sleep, my busy memory +swung back the dark portals of the past, and the picture of their sad +and eventful lives came up before me in the gloomy distance. What a +lesson for those who are endowed with the fatal gift of genius! It +would seem, indeed, that He who "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb" +tempers also His chastisements to the errors and infirmities of a +weak and simple mind--while the transgressions of him upon whose +nature are more strongly marked the intellectual attributes of the +Deity are followed, even upon earth, by severer tokens of the Divine +displeasure. He who sins in the darkness of a benighted intellect sees +not so clearly, through the shadows that surround him, the countenance +of an offended God; but he who sins in the broad noonday of a clear +and radiant mind, when at length the delirium of sensual passion has +subsided and the cloud flits away from before the sun, trembles +beneath the searching eye of that accusing Power which is strong in +the strength of a godlike intellect. Thus the mind and the heart are +closely linked together, and the errors of genius bear with them their +own chastisement, even upon earth. The history of Abelard and Heloise +is an illustration of this truth. But at length they sleep well. Their +lives are like a tale that is told; their errors are "folded up like a +book"; and what mortal hand shall break the seal that death has set +upon them? + +Leaving this interesting tomb behind me, I took a pathway to the left, +which conducted me up the hillside. I soon found myself in the deep +shade of heavy foliage, where the branches of the yew and willow +mingled, interwoven with the tendrils and blossoms of the honeysuckle. +I now stood in the most populous part of this city of tombs. Every +step awakened a new train of thrilling recollections, for at every +step my eye caught the name of some one whose glory had exalted the +character of his native land and resounded across the waters of the +Atlantic. Philosophers, historians, musicians, warriors, and poets +slept side by side around me; some beneath the gorgeous monument, and +some beneath the simple headstone. But the political intrigue, the +dream of science, the historical research, the ravishing harmony of +sound, the tried courage, the inspiration of the lyre--where are they? +With the living, and not with the dead! The right hand has lost its +cunning in the grave; but the soul, whose high volitions it obeyed, +still lives to reproduce itself in ages yet to come. + +Amid these graves of genius I observed here and there a splendid +monument, which had been raised by the pride of family over the dust +of men who could lay no claim either to the gratitude or remembrance +of posterity. Their presence seemed like an intrusion into the +sanctuary of genius. What had wealth to do there? Why should it crowd +the dust of the great? That was no thoroughfare of business--no mart +of gain! There were no costly banquets there; no silken garments, nor +gaudy liveries, nor obsequious attendants! "What servants," says +Jeremy Taylor, "shall we have to wait upon us in the grave? what +friends to visit us? what officious people to cleanse away the moist +and unwholesome cloud reflected upon our faces from the sides of the +weeping vaults, which are the longest weepers for our funerals?" +Material wealth gives a factitious superiority to the living, but the +treasures of intellect give a real superiority to the dead; and the +rich man, who would not deign to walk the street with the starving and +penniless man of genius, deems it an honor, when death has redeemed +the fame of the neglected, to have his ashes laid beside him, and to +claim with him the silent companionship of the grave. + +I continued my walk through the numerous winding paths, as chance or +curiosity directed me. Now I was lost in a little green hollow +overhung with thick-leaved shrubbery, and then came out upon an +elevation, from which, through an opening in the trees, the eye caught +glimpses of the city, and the little esplanade at the foot of the hill +where the poor lie buried. There poverty hires its grave and takes but +a short lease of the narrow house. At the end of a few months, or at +most of a few years, the tenant is dislodged to give place to another, +and he in turn to a third. "Who," says Sir Thomas Browne, "knows the +fate of his bones, or how often he is to be buried? Who hath the +oracle of his ashes, or whither they are to be scattered?" + +Yet even in that neglected corner the hand of affection had been busy +in decorating the hired house. Most of the graves were surrounded with +a slight wooden paling, to secure them from the passing footstep; +there was hardly one so deserted as not to be marked with its little +wooden cross and decorated with a garland of flowers; and here and +there I could perceive a solitary mourner, clothed in black, stooping +to plant a shrub on the grave, or sitting in motionless sorrow beside +it. + +As I passed on amid the shadowy avenues of the cemetery, I could not +help comparing my own impressions with those which others have felt +when walking alone among the dwellings of the dead. Are, then, the +sculptured urn and storied monument nothing more than symbols of +family pride? Is all I see around me a memorial of the living more +than of the dead, an empty show of sorrow, which thus vaunts itself in +mournful pageant and funeral parade? Is it indeed true, as some have +said, that the simple wild flower which springs spontaneously upon the +grave, and the rose which the hand of affection plants there, are +fitter objects wherewith to adorn the narrow house? No! I feel that it +is not so! Let the good and the great be honored even in the grave. +Let the sculptured marble direct our footsteps to the scene of their +long sleep; let the chiseled epitaph repeat their names, and tell us +where repose the nobly good and wise! It is not true that all are +equal in the grave. There is no equality even there. The mere handful +of dust and ashes, the mere distinction of prince and beggar, of a +rich winding sheet and a shroudless burial, of a solitary grave and a +family vault--were this all, then, indeed it would be true that death +is a common leveler. Such paltry distinctions as those of wealth and +poverty are soon leveled by the spade and mattock; the damp breath of +the grave blots them out forever. But there are other distinctions +which even the mace of death can not level or obliterate. Can it break +down the distinction of virtue and vice? Can it confound the good with +the bad? the noble with the base? all that is truly great, and pure, +and godlike, with all that is scorned, and sinful, and degraded? No! +Then death is not a common leveler!... + +Before I left the graveyard the shades of evening had fallen, and the +objects around me grown dim and indistinct. As I passed the gateway, I +turned to take a parting look. I could distinguish only the chapel on +the summit of the hill, and here and there a lofty obelisk of +snow-white marble, rising from the black and heavy mass of foliage +around, and pointing upward to the gleam of the departed sun, that +still lingered in the sky, and mingled with the soft starlight of a +summer evening. + + + + +EDGAR ALLAN POE + + Born in 1809, died in 1849; his father and mother actors; + adopted by John Allan of Richmond after his mother's death; + educated in Richmond, in England, at the University of + Virginia, and at West Point; published "Tamerlane" in 1827; + settled in Baltimore and devoted himself to literature; + editor of several magazines 1835-44; published "The Raven" + in 1845, "Al Aaraaf" in 1829, "Tales of the Grotesque and + Arabesque" in 1840. + + + + +I + +THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO[2] + + +It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the +carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with +excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. +He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was +surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him +that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand. + +[Footnote 2: Published in _Godey's Magazine_ in 1846.] + +I said to him: "My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkable +well you are looking to-day! But I have received a pipe of what passes +for Amontillado, and I have my doubts." + +"How?" said he. "Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of +the carnival!" + +"I have my doubts," I replied; "and I was silly enough to pay the full +Amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not +to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain." + +"Amontillado!" + +"I have my doubts--" + +"Amontillado!" + +"And I must satisfy them." + +"Amontillado!" + +"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If any one has a +critical turn, it is he. He will tell me--" + +"Luchesi can not tell Amontillado from Sherry." + +"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your +own." + +"Come, let us go." + +"Whither?" + +"To your vaults." + +"My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive +you have an engagement. Luchesi--" + +"I have no engagement; come." + +"My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with +which I perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. +They are encrusted with niter." + +"Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You +have been imposed upon. And as for Luchesi, he can not distinguish +Sherry from Amontillado." + +Thus speaking, Fortunato possest himself of my arm. Putting on a mask +of black silk, and drawing a _roquelaure_ closely about my person, I +suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo. + +There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in +honor of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the +morning, and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the +house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their +immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned. + +I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, +bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into +the vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him +to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the +descent, and stood together on the damp ground of the catacombs of the +Montresors. + +The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled +as he strode. + +"The pipe," said he. + +"It is farther on," said I; "but observe the white web-work which +gleams from these cavern walls." + +He turned toward me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that +distilled the rheum of intoxication. + +"Niter?" he asked, at length. + +"Niter," I replied. "How long have you had that cough?" + +"Ugh! ugh! ugh--ugh! ugh! ugh!--ugh! ugh! ugh!--ugh! ugh! ugh!--ugh! +ugh! ugh!" + +My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes. + +"It is nothing," he said, at last. + +"Come," I said, with decision, "we will go back; your health is +precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, +as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We +will go back; you will be ill, and I can not be responsible. Besides, +there is Luchesi--" + +"Enough," he said; "the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. +I shall not die." + +"True--true," I replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming +you unnecessarily--but you should use all proper caution. A draft of +this Medoc will defend us from the damps." + +Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row +of its fellows that lay upon the mold. + +"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine. + +He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me +familiarly, while his bells jingled. + +"I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us." + +"And I to your long life." + +He again took my arm, and we proceeded. + +"These vaults," he said, "are extensive." + +"The Montresors," I replied, "were a great and numerous family." + +"I forget your arms." + +"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent +rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel." + +"And the motto?" + +_"Nemo me impune lacessit."_ + +"Good!" he said. + +The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew +warm with the Medoc. We had passed through walls of piled bones, with +casks and puncheons intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the +catacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize +Fortunato by an arm above the elbow. + +"The niter!" I said; "see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the +vaults. We are below the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickle +among the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your +cough--" + +"It is nothing," he said; "let us go on. But first, another draft of +the Medoc." + +I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it at a +breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the +bottle upward with a gesticulation I did not understand. + +I looked at him in surprize. He repeated the movement--a grotesque +one. + +"You do not comprehend!" he said. + +"Not I," I replied. + +"Then you are not of the brotherhood." + +"How?" + +"You are not of the masons." + +"Yes, yes," I said, "yes, yes." + +"You? Impossible! A mason?" + +"A mason," I replied. + +"A sign," he said. + +"It is this," I answered, producing a trowel from beneath the folds of +my _roquelaure_. + +"You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. "But let us proceed +to the Amontillado." + +"Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak, and again +offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route +in search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches, +descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, +in which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow +than flame. + +At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less +spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the +vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three +sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. +From the fourth the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously +upon the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the +walls thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a +still interior recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in +height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no special +use within itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the +colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one +of their circumscribing walls of solid granite. + +It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavored to +pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did +not enable us to see. + +"Proceed," I said, "herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchesi--" + +"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stept unsteadily +forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In an instant he +had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress +arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more and I +had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, +distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of +these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the +links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure +it. He was too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stept +back from the recess. + +"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you can not help feeling the +niter. Indeed it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. +No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all +the little attentions in my power." + +"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his +astonishment. + +"True," I replied; "the Amontillado." + +As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which +I have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity +of building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of +my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche. + +I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered +that the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. +The earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the +depth of the recess. It was _not_ the cry of a drunken man. There was +then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the +third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the +chain. The noise lasted for several minutes, during which, that I +might harken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labors and +sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed +the trowel, and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, +and the seventh tier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with my +breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, +threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within. + +A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the +throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a +brief moment I hesitated--I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began +to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant +reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, +and felt satisfied. I reapproached the wall. I replied to the yells of +him who clamored. I reechoed--I aided--I surpassed them in volume and +in strength. I did this, and the clamorer grew still. + +It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had +completed the eighth, the ninth, and the tenth tier. I had finished a +portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single +stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I +placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from +out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was +succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as +that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said: + +"Ha! ha! ha!--he! he!--a very good joke--indeed--an excellent jest. We +will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo--he! he! he!--over +our wine--he! he! he!" + +"The Amontillado!" I said. + +"He! he! he!--he! he! he!--yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting +late? Will they not be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato +and the rest? Let us be gone." + +"Yes," I said, "let us be gone." + +"For the love of God, Montresor!" + +"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" + +But to these words I harkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I +called aloud: "Fortunato!" + +No answer. I called again: "Fortunato!" + +No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and +let it fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of the +bells. My heart grew sick--on account of the dampness of the +catacombs. I hastened to make an end of my labor. I forced the last +stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I +reerected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no +mortal has disturbed them. _In pace requiescat!_ + + + + +II + +OF HAWTHORNE AND THE SHORT STORY[3] + + +The reputation of the author of "Twice-Told Tales" has been confined, +until very lately, to literary society; and I have not been wrong, +perhaps, in citing him as the example, par excellence, in this +country, of the privately admired and publicly-unappreciated man of +genius. Within the last year or two, it is true, an occasional critic +has been urged, by honest indignation, into very warm approval. Mr. +Webber,[4] for instance (than whom no one has a keener relish for that +kind of writing which Mr. Hawthorne has best illustrated), gave us, in +a late number of _The American Review_, a cordial and certainly a full +tribute to his talents; and since the issue of the "Mosses from an Old +Manse" criticisms of similar tone have been by no means infrequent in +our more authoritative journals. I can call to mind few reviews of +Hawthorne published before the "Mosses." One I remember in _Arcturus_ +(edited by Matthews and Duyckinck[5]) for May, 1841; another in the +_American Monthly_ (edited by Hoffman[6] and Herbert) for March, 1838; +a third in the ninety-sixth number of _The North American Review_. +These criticisms, however, seemed to have little effect on the popular +taste--at least, if we are to form any idea of the popular taste by +reference to its expression in the newspapers, or by the sale of the +author's book. It was never the fashion (until lately) to speak of +him in any summary of our best authors.... + +[Footnote 3: From a review of Hawthorne's "Twice Told Tales" and +"Mosses from an Old Manse," published in _Godey's Magazine_ in 1846. +Except for an earlier notice by Longfellow in _The North American +Review_, this was the first notable recognition Hawthorne's stories +received from a contemporary critic.] + +[Footnote 4: Charles Wilkens Webber, magazine writer and author of a +dozen books now forgotten, was a native of Kentucky who settled in New +York. In 1855 he joined William Walker in his filibustering expedition +to Central America, and was killed in the battle of Rivas.] + +[Footnote 5: Evert A. Duyckinck, joint editor with his brother of the +"Cyclopedia of American Literature."] + +[Footnote 6: Charles Fenno Hoffman, poet, novelist, and critic, was +related to Mathilda Hoffman, the sweetheart of Washington Irving.] + +Beyond doubt, this inappreciation of him on the part of the public +arose chiefly from the two causes to which I have referred--from the +facts that he is neither a man of wealth nor a quack; but these are +insufficient to account for the whole effect. No small portion of it +is attributable to the very marked idiosyncrasy of Mr. Hawthorne +himself. In one sense, and in great measure, to be peculiar is to be +original, and than the true originality there is no higher literary +virtue. This true or commendable originality, however, implies not the +uniform, but the continuous peculiarity--a peculiarity springing from +ever-active vigor of fancy--better still if from ever-present force of +imagination, giving its own hue, its own character to everything it +touches, and, especially, self-impelled to touch everything.... + +The pieces in the volumes entitled "Twice-Told Tales" are now in their +third republication, and, of course, are thrice-told. Moreover, they +are by no means all tales, either in the ordinary or in the legitimate +understanding of the term. Many of them are pure essays. Of the Essays +I must be content to speak in brief. They are each and all beautiful, +without being characterized by the polish and adaptation so visible in +the tales proper. A painter would at once note their leading or +predominant feature, and style it repose. There is no attempt at +effect. All is quiet, thoughtful, subdued. Yet this repose may exist +simultaneously with high originality of thought; and Mr. Hawthorne has +demonstrated the fact. At every turn we meet with novel combinations; +yet these combinations never surpass the limits of the quiet. We are +soothed as we read; and withal is a calm astonishment that ideas so +apparently obvious have never occurred or been presented to us before. +Herein our author differs materially from Lamb or Hunt or +Hazlitt--who, with vivid originality of manner and expression, have +less of the true novelty of thought than is generally supposed, and +whose originality, at best, has an uneasy and meretricious quaintness, +replete with startling effects unfounded in nature, and inducing +trains of reflection which lead to no satisfactory result. The essays +of Hawthorne have much of the character of Irving, with more of +originality, and less of finish; while, compared with the _Spectator_, +they have a vast superiority at all points. The Spectator, Mr. Irving +and Hawthorne have in common that tranquil and subdued manner which I +have chosen to denominate repose; but, in the ease of the two former, +this repose is attained rather by the absence of novel combination, or +of originality, than otherwise, and consists chiefly in the calm, +quiet, unostentatious expression of commonplace thoughts, in an +unambitious, unadulterated Saxon. In them, by strong effort, we are +made to conceive the absence of all. In the essays before me the +absence of effort is too obvious to be mistaken, and a strong +undercurrent of suggestion runs continuously beneath the upper stream +of the tranquil thesis. In short, these effusions of Mr. Hawthorne are +the product of a truly imaginative intellect, restrained, and in some +measure represt by fastidiousness of taste, by constitutional +melancholy, and by indolence. + +But it is of his tales that I desire principally to speak. The tale +proper, in my opinion, affords unquestionably the fairest field for +the exercise of the loftiest talent which can be afforded by the wide +domains of mere prose. Were I bidden to say how the highest genius +could be most advantageously employed for the best display of its own +powers, I should answer, without hesitation--in the composition of a +rimed poem, not to exceed in length what might be perused in an hour. +Within this limit alone can the highest order of true poetry exist. I +need only here say, upon this topic, that, in almost all classes of +composition, the unity of effect or impression is a point of the +greatest importance. It is clear, moreover, that this unity can not be +thoroughly preserved in productions whose perusal can not be completed +at one sitting. We may continue the reading of a prose composition, +from the very nature of prose itself, much longer than we can +persevere, to any good purpose, in the perusal of a poem. This latter, +if truly fulfilling the demands of the poetic sentiment, induces an +exaltation of the soul which can not be long sustained. All high +excitements are necessarily transient. Thus a long poem is a paradox. +And, without unity of impression, the deepest effects can not be +brought about. Epics were the offspring of an imperfect sense of art, +and their reign is no more. A poem too brief may produce a vivid, but +never an intense or enduring impression. Without a certain continuity +of effort--without a certain duration or repetition of purpose--the +soul is never deeply moved. There must be the dropping of the water +upon the rock. De Beranger has wrought brilliant things--pungent and +spirit-stirring--but, like all impassive bodies, they lack momentum, +and thus fail to satisfy the poetic sentiment. They sparkle and +excite, but, from want of continuity, fail deeply to impress. Extreme +brevity will degenerate into epigrammatism; but the sin of extreme +length is even more unpardonable. _In medio tutissimus ibis._ Were I +called upon, however, to designate that class of composition which, +next to such a poem as I have suggested, should best fulfil the +demands of high genius--should offer it the most advantageous field of +exertion--I should unhesitatingly speak of the prose tale, as Mr. +Hawthorne has here exemplified it. I allude to the short prose +narrative, requiring from a half-hour to one or two hours in its +perusal. + +Of Mr. Hawthorne's "Tales" we would say, emphatically that they belong +to the highest region of art--an art subservient to genius of a very +lofty order.... We know of few compositions which the critic can more +honestly commend than these "Twice-Told Tales." As Americans, we feel +proud of the book. + +Mr. Hawthorne's distinctive trait is invention, creation, imagination, +originality--a trait which, in the literature of fiction, is +positively worth all the rest. But the nature of the originality, so +far as regards its manifestation in letters, is but imperfectly +understood. The inventive or original mind as frequently displays +itself in novelty of tone as in novelty of matter. Mr. Hawthorne is +original in all points. It would be a matter of some difficulty to +designate the best of these tales; we repeat that, without exception, +they are beautiful. + +He has the purest style, the finest taste, the most available +scholarship, the most delicate humor, the most touching pathos, the +most radiant imagination, the most consummate ingenuity; and with +these varied good qualities he has done well as a mystic. But is there +any one of these qualities which should prevent his doing doubly as +well in a career of honest, upright, sensible, prehensible and +comprehensible things? Let him mend his pen, get a bottle of visible +ink, come out from the "Old Manse," cut Mr. Alcott, hang (if possible) +the editor of The Dial, and throw out of the window to the pigs all +his odd numbers of _The North American Review_. + + + + +III + +OF WILLIS, BRYANT, HALLECK, AND MACAULAY[7] + + +Whatever may be thought of Mr. Willis's talents, there can be no doubt +about the fact that, both as an author and as a man, he has made a +good deal of noise in the world--at least for an American. His +literary life, in especial, has been one continual emeute; but then +his literary character is modified or impelled in a very remarkable +degree by his personal one. His success (for in point of fame, if of +nothing else, he has certainly been successful) is to be attributed +one-third to his mental ability and two-thirds to his physical +temperament--the latter goading him into the accomplishment of what +the former merely gave him the means of accomplishing.... At a very +early age, Mr. Willis seems to have arrived at an understanding that, +in a republic such as ours, the mere man of letters must ever be a +cipher, and endeavored, accordingly, to unite the eclat of the +litterateur with that of the man of fashion or of society. He "pushed +himself," went much into the world, made friends with the gentler sex, +"delivered" poetical addresses, wrote "scriptural" poems, traveled, +sought the intimacy of noted women, and got into quarrels with +notorious men. All these things served his purpose--if, indeed, I am +right in supposing that he had any purpose at all. It is quite +probable that, as before hinted, he acted only in accordance with his +physical temperament; but, be this as it may, his personal greatly +advanced, if it did not altogether establish his literary fame. I have +often carefully considered whether, without the physique of which I +speak, there is that in the absolute morale of Mr. Willis which would +have earned him reputation as a man of letters, and my conclusion is +that he could not have failed to become noted in some degree under +almost any circumstances, but that about two-thirds (as above stated) +of his appreciation by the public should be attributed to those +adventures which grew immediately out of his animal constitution. + +[Footnote 7: Passages selected from articles now printed in Volume II +of the "Works of Poe," as published in New York in 1876.] + +Mr. Bryant's position in the poetical world is, perhaps, better +settled than that of any American. There is less difference of opinion +about his rank; but, as usual, the agreement is more decided in +private literary circles than in what appears to be the public +expression of sentiment as gleaned from the press. I may as well +observe here, too, that this coincidence of opinion in private circles +is in all cases very noticeable when compared with the discrepancy of +the apparent public opinion. In private it is quite a rare thing to +find any strongly-marked disagreement--I mean, of course, about mere +authorial merit.... It will never do to claim for Bryant a genius of +the loftiest order, but there has been latterly, since the days of Mr. +Longfellow and Mr. Lowell, a growing disposition to deny him genius in +any respect. He is now commonly spoken of as "a man of high poetical +talent, very 'correct,' with a warm appreciation of the beauty of +nature and great descriptive powers, but rather too much of the +old-school manner of Cowper, Goldsmith and Young." This is the truth, +but not the whole truth. Mr. Bryant has genius, and that of a marked +character, but it has been overlooked by modern schools, because +deficient in those externals which have become in a measure symbolical +of those schools. + +The name of Halleck is at least as well established in the poetical +world as that of any American. Our principal poets are, perhaps, most +frequently named in this order--Bryant, Halleck, Dana, Sprague,[8] +Longfellow, Willis, and so on--Halleck coming second in the series, +but holding, in fact, a rank in the public opinion quite equal to that +of Bryant. The accuracy of the arrangement as above made may, indeed, +be questioned. For my own part, I should have it thus--Longfellow, +Bryant, Halleck, Willis, Sprague, Dana; and, estimating rather the +poetic capacity than the poems actually accomplished, there are three +or four comparatively unknown writers whom I would place in the series +between Bryant and Halleck, while there are about a dozen whom I +should assign a position between Willis and Sprague. Two dozen at +least might find room between Sprague and Dana--this latter, I fear, +owing a very large portion of his reputation to his quondam editorial +connection with _The North American Review_. One or two poets, now in +my mind's eye, I should have no hesitation in posting above even Mr. +Longfellow--still not intending this as very extravagant praise.... +Mr. Halleck, in the apparent public estimate, maintains a somewhat +better position than that to which, on absolute grounds, he is +entitled. There is something, too, in the bonhomie of certain of his +compositions--something altogether distinct from poetic merit--which +has aided to establish him; and much also must be admitted on the +score of his personal popularity, which is deservedly great. With all +these allowances, however, there will still be found a large amount of +poetical fame to which he is fairly entitled.... Personally he is a +man to be admired, respected, but more especially beloved. His address +has all the captivating bonhomie which is the leading feature of his +poetry, and, indeed, of his whole moral nature. With his friends he +is all ardor, enthusiasm and cordiality, but to the world at large he +is reserved, shunning society, into which he is seduced only with +difficulty, and upon rare occasions. The love of solitude seems to +have become with him a passion. + +[Footnote 8: Charles Sprague, born in Boston in 1791, was known in his +own day as "the American Pope."] + +Macaulay has obtained a reputation which, altho deservedly great, is +yet in a remarkable measure undeserved. The few who regard him merely +as a terse, forcible and logical writer, full of thought, and +abounding in original views, often sagacious and never otherwise than +admirably exprest--appear to us precisely in the right. The many who +look upon him as not only all this, but as a comprehensive and +profound thinker, little prone to error, err essentially themselves. +The source of the general mistake lies in a very singular +consideration--yet in one upon which we do not remember ever to have +heard a word of comment. We allude to a tendency in the public mind +toward logic for logic's sake--a liability to confound the vehicle +with the conveyed--an aptitude to be so dazzled by the luminousness +with which an idea is set forth as to mistake it for the luminousness +of the idea itself. The error is one exactly analogous with that which +leads the immature poet to think himself sublime wherever he is +obscure, because obscurity is a source of the sublime--thus +confounding obscurity of expression with the expression of obscurity. +In the case of Macaulay--and we may say, _en passant_, of our own +Channing--we assent to what he says too often because we so very +clearly understand what it is that he intends to say. Comprehending +vividly the points and the sequence of his argument, we fancy that we +are concurring in the argument itself. It is not every mind which is +at once able to analyze the satisfaction it receives from such essays +as we see here. If it were merely beauty of style for which they were +distinguished--if they were remarkable only for rhetorical +flourishes--we would not be apt to estimate these flourishes at more +than their due value. We would not agree with the doctrines of the +essayist on account of the elegance with which they were urged. On the +contrary, we would be inclined to disbelief. But when all ornament +save that of simplicity is disclaimed--when we are attacked by +precision of language, by perfect accuracy of expression, by +directness and singleness of thought, and above all by a logic the +most rigorously close and consequential--it is hardly a matter for +wonder that nine of us out of ten are content to rest in the +gratification thus received as in the gratification of absolute +truth. + + + + +OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES + + Born in 1809, died in 1894; professor in the Medical School + of Harvard in 1847-82; wrote for the _Atlantic Monthly_ "The + Autocrat of the Breakfast Table" in 1857-58, "The Professor + at the Breakfast Table" in 1859, "The Poet at the Breakfast + Table" in 1872; published "Elsie Venner" in 1861, "The + Guardian Angel" in 1868, "A Mortal Antipathy" in 1885; a + collection of verse entitled "Songs in Many Keys" in 1861, + "Humorous Poems" in 1865, "Songs of Many Seasons," in 1874, + "Before the Curfew" in 1888; also wrote volumes of essays + and memoirs of Emerson and Motley. + + + + +I + +OF DOCTORS, LAWYERS, AND MINISTERS[9] + + +"What is your general estimate of doctors, lawyers, and ministers?" +said I. + +"Wait a minute, till I have got through with your first question," +said the Master. "One thing at a time. You asked me about the young +doctors, and about our young doctors, they come home _tres bien +chausses_, as a Frenchman would say, mighty well shod with +professional knowledge. But when they begin walking round among their +poor patients--they don't commonly start with millionaires--they find +that their new shoes of scientific acquirements have got to be broken +in just like a pair of boots or brogans. I don't know that I have put +it quite strong enough. Let me try again. You've seen those fellows at +the circus that get up on horseback, so big that you wonder how they +could climb into the saddle. But pretty soon they throw off their +outside coat, and the next minute another one, and then the one under +that, and so they keep peeling off one garment after another till +people begin to look queer and think they are going too far for strict +propriety. Well, that is the way a fellow with a real practical turn +serves a good many of his scientific wrappers--flings 'em off for +other people to pick up, and goes right at the work of curing +stomach-aches and all the other little mean unscientific complaints +that make up the larger part of every doctor's business. I think our +Dr. Benjamin is a worthy young man, and if you are in need of a doctor +at any time I hope you will go to him; and if you come off without +harm, I will--recommend some other friend to try him." + +[Footnote 9: From Chapter V of "The Poet at the Breakfast Table." +Copyright, 1872, 1891, by Oliver Wendell Holmes. Published by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +I thought he was going to say he would try him in his own person; but +the Master is not fond of committing himself. + +"Now I will answer your other question," he said. "The lawyers are the +cleverest men, the ministers are the most learned, and the doctors are +the most sensible." + +"The lawyers are a picked lot, 'first scholars,' and the like, but +their business is as unsympathetic as Jack Ketch's. There is nothing +humanizing in their relations with their fellow creatures. They go for +the side that retains them. They defend the man they know to be a +rogue, and not very rarely throw suspicion on the man they know to be +innocent. Mind you, I am not finding fault with them--every side of a +case has a right to the best statement it admits of; but I say it does +not tend to make them sympathetic. Suppose in a case of Fever _vs._ +Patient, the doctor should side with either party according to whether +the old miser or his expectant heir was his employer. Suppose the +minister should side with the Lord or the devil, according to the +salary offered, and other incidental advantages, where the soul of a +sinner was in question. You can see what a piece of work it would make +of their sympathies. But the lawyers are quicker witted than either of +the other professions, and abler men generally. They are good-natured, +or if they quarrel, their quarrels are above-board. I don't think they +are as accomplished as the ministers; but they have a way of cramming +with special knowledge for a case, which leaves a certain shallow +sediment of intelligence in their memories about a good many things. +They are apt to talk law in mixt company; and they have a way of +looking round when they make a point, as if they were addressing a +jury, that is mighty aggravating--as I once had occasion to see when +one of 'em, and a pretty famous one, put me on the witness stand at a +dinner party once. + +"The ministers come next in point of talent. They are far more curious +and widely interested outside of their own calling than either of the +other professions. I like to talk with 'em. They are interesting men: +full of good feelings, hard workers, always foremost in good deeds, +and on the whole the most efficient civilizing class--working downward +from knowledge to ignorance, that is; not so much upward, +perhaps--that we have. The trouble is that so many of 'em work in +harness, and it is pretty sure to chafe somewhere. They feed us on +canned meats mostly. They cripple our instincts and reason, and give +us a crutch of doctrine. I have talked with a great many of 'em, of +all sorts of belief; and I don't think they are quite so easy in their +minds, the greater number of them, nor so clear in their convictions +as one would think to hear 'em lay down the law in the pulpit. They +used to lead the intelligence of their parishes; now they do pretty +well if they keep up with it, and they are very apt to lag behind it. +Then they must have a colleague. The old minister thinks he can hold +to his old course, sailing right into the wind's eye of human nature, +as straight as that famous old skipper John Bunyan; the young minister +falls off three or four points, and catches the breeze that left the +old man's sails all shivering. By-and-by the congregation will get +ahead of him, and then it must have another new skipper. The priest +holds his own pretty well; the minister is coming down every +generation nearer and nearer to the common level of the useful +citizen--no oracle at all, but a man of more than average moral +instincts, who, if he knows anything, knows how little he knows. The +ministers are good talkers, only the struggle between nature and grace +makes some of 'em a little awkward occasionally. The women do their +best to spoil 'em, as they do the poets. You find it pleasant to be +spoiled, no doubt; so do they. Now and then one of 'em goes over the +dam; no wonder--they're always in the rapids." + +By this time our three ladies had their faces all turned toward the +speaker, like the weathercocks in a northeaster, and I thought it best +to switch off the talk on to another rail. + +"How about the doctors?" I said. + +"Theirs is the least learned of the professions, in this country at +least. They have not half the general culture of the lawyers, nor a +quarter of that of the ministers. I rather think, tho, they are more +agreeable to the common run of people than the men with the black +coats or the men with green bags. People can swear before 'em if they +want to, and they can't very well before ministers. I don't care +whether they want to swear or not, they don't want to be on their good +behavior. Besides, the minister has a little smack of the sexton about +him; he comes when people are _in extremis_, but they don't send for +him every time they make a slight moral slip--tell a lie, for +instance, or smuggle a silk dress through the custom-house: but they +call in the doctor when the child is cutting a tooth or gets a +splinter in its finger. So it doesn't mean much to send for him, only +a pleasant chat about the news of the day; for putting the baby to +rights doesn't take long. Besides, everybody doesn't like to talk +about the next world; people are modest in their desires, and find +this world as good as they deserve: but everybody loves to talk +physic. Everybody loves to hear of strange cases; people are eager to +tell the doctor of the wonderful cures they have heard of; they want +to know what is the matter with somebody or other who is said to be +suffering from "a complication of diseases," and above all to get a +hard name, Greek or Latin, for some complaint which sounds altogether +too commonplace in plain English. If you will only call a headache a +_Cephalalgia_, it acquires dignity at once, and a patient becomes +rather proud of it. So I think doctors are generally welcome in most +companies." + + + + +II + +OF THE GENIUS OF EMERSON[10] + + +Emerson's was an Asiatic mind, drawing its sustenance partly from the +hard soil of our New England, partly, too, from the air that has known +Himalaya and the Ganges. So imprest with this character of his mind +was Mr. Burlingame,[11] as I saw him, after his return from his +mission, that he said to me, in a freshet of hyperbole, which was the +overflow of a channel with a thread of truth running in it, "There are +twenty thousand Ralph Waldo Emersons in China." + +[Footnote 10: From an address before the Massachusetts Historical +Society in 1862. Published by Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +[Footnote 11: Anson Burlingame, famous in his time for treaties +negotiated between China and the United States, England, Denmark, +Sweden, Holland, and Prussia. His son, E. I. Burlingame, has long been +the editor of _Scribner's Magazine_.] + +What could we do with this unexpected, unprovided for, unclassified, +half-unwelcome new-comer, who had been for a while potted, as it +were, in our Unitarian cold green-house, but had taken to growing so +fast that he was lifting off its glass roof and letting in the +hailstorms? Here was a protest that outflanked the extreme left of +liberalism, yet so calm and serene that its radicalism had the accents +of the gospel of peace. Here was an iconoclast without a hammer, who +took down our idols from their pedestals so tenderly that it seemed +like an act of worship. + +The scribes and pharisees made light of his oracular sayings. The +lawyers could not find the witnesses to subpoena and the documents +to refer to when his case came before them, and turned him over to +their wives and daughters. The ministers denounced his heresies, and +handled his writings as if they were packages of dynamite, and the +grandmothers were as much afraid of his new teachings as old Mrs. +Piozzi[12] was of geology. We had had revolutionary orators, +reformers, martyrs; it was but a few years since Abner Kneeland had +been sent to jail for expressing an opinion about the great First +Cause; but we had had nothing like this man, with his seraphic voice +and countenance, his choice vocabulary, his refined utterance, his +gentle courage, which, with a different manner, might have been called +audacity, his temperate statement of opinions which threatened to +shake the existing order of thought like an earthquake. + +[Footnote 12: Hester Lynch Salisbury, who married first Henry Thrale, +the English brewer, and second an Italian musician named Piozzi; but +her fame rests on her friendship of twenty years with Doctor Samuel +Johnson, of whom she wrote reminiscences, described by Carlyle as +"Piozzi's ginger beer."] + +His peculiarities of style and of thinking became fertile parents of +mannerisms, which were fair game for ridicule as they appeared in his +imitators. For one who talks like Emerson or like Carlyle soon finds +himself surrounded by a crowd of walking phonographs, who mechanically +reproduce his mental and vocal accents. Emerson was before long +talking in the midst of a babbling Simonetta of echoes, and not +unnaturally was now and then himself a mark for the small-shot of +criticism. He had soon reached that height in the "cold thin +atmosphere" of thought where + + "Vainly the fowler's eye + Might mark his distant flight to do him wrong." + +I shall add a few words, of necessity almost epigrammatic, upon his +work and character. He dealt with life, and life with him was not +merely this particular air-breathing phase of being, but the spiritual +existence which included it like a parenthesis between the two +infinities. He wanted his daily drafts of oxygen like his neighbors, +and was as thoroughly human as the plain people he mentions who had +successively owned or thought they owned the house-lot on which he +planted his hearthstone. But he was at home no less in the +interstellar spaces outside of all the atmospheres. The +semi-materialistic idealism of Milton was a gross and clumsy medium +compared to the imponderable ether of "The Over-soul" and the +unimaginable vacuum of "Brahma." He followed in the shining and daring +track of the _Graius homo_ of Lucretius: + + _"Vivida vis animi pervicit, et extra + Processit longe flammantia moenia mundi."_ + +It always seemed to me as if he looked at this earth very much as a +visitor from another planet would look upon it. He was interested, and +to some extent curious about it, but it was not the first spheroid he +had been acquainted with, by any means. I have amused myself with +comparing his descriptions of natural objects with those of the Angel +Raphael in the seventh book of Paradise Lost. Emerson talks of his +titmouse as Raphael talks of his emmet. Angels and poets never deal +with nature after the manner of those whom we call naturalists. + +To judge of him as a thinker, Emerson should have been heard as a +lecturer, for his manner was an illustration of his way of thinking. +He would lose his place just as his mind would drop its thought and +pick up another, twentieth cousin or no relation at all to it. This +went so far at times that one could hardly tell whether he was putting +together a mosaic of colored fragments, or only turning a kaleidoscope +where the pieces tumbled about as they best might. It was as if he had +been looking in at a cosmic peep-show, and turning from it at brief +intervals to tell us what he saw. But what fragments these colored +sentences were, and what pictures they often placed before us, as if +we too saw them! Never has this city known such audiences as he +gathered; never was such an Olympian entertainment as that which he +gave them. + +It is very hard to speak of Mr. Emerson's poetry; not to do it +injustice, still more to do it justice. It seems to me like the robe +of a monarch patched by a New England housewife. The royal tint and +stuff are unmistakable, but here and there the gray worsted from the +darning-needle crosses and ekes out the Tyrian purple. Few poets who +have written so little in verse have dropped so many of those "jewels +five words long" which fall from their setting only to be more +choicely treasured. _E pluribus unum_ is scarcely more familiar to our +ears than "He builded better than he knew," and Keats's "thing of +beauty" is little better known than Emerson's "beauty is its own +excuse for being." One may not like to read Emerson's poetry because +it is sometimes careless, almost as if carefully so, tho never +undignified even when slipshod; spotted with quaint archaisms and +strange expressions that sound like the affectation of negligence, or +with plain, homely phrases such as the self-made scholar is always +afraid of. But if one likes Emerson's poetry he will be sure to love +it; if he loves it, its phrases will cling to him as hardly any others +do. It may not be for the multitude, but it finds its place like +pollen-dust and penetrates to the consciousness it is to fertilize and +bring to flower and fruit. + +I have known something of Emerson as a talker, not nearly so much as +many others who can speak and write of him. It is unsafe to tell how a +great thinker talks, for perhaps, like a city dealer with a village +customer, he has not shown his best goods to the innocent reporter of +his sayings. However that may be in this case, let me contrast in a +single glance the momentary effect in conversation of the two +neighbors, Hawthorne and Emerson. Speech seemed like a kind of travail +to Hawthorne. One must harpoon him like a cetacean with questions to +make him talk at all. Then the words came from him at last, with +bashful manifestations, like those of a young girl, almost--words that +gasped themselves forth, seeming to leave a great deal more behind +them than they told, and died out discontented with themselves, like +the monologue of thunder in the sky, which always goes off mumbling +and grumbling as if it had not said half it wanted to, and ought to +say.... + +To sum up briefly what would, as it seems to me, be the text to be +unfolded in his biography, he was a man of excellent common sense, +with a genius so uncommon that he seemed like an exotic transplanted +from some angelic nursery. His character was so blameless, so +beautiful, that it was rather a standard to judge others by than to +find a place for on the scale of comparison. Looking at life with the +profoundest sense of its infinite significance, he was yet a cheerful +optimist, almost too hopeful, peeping into every cradle to see if it +did not hold a babe with the halo of a new Messiah about it. He +enriched the treasure-house of literature, but, what was far more, he +enlarged the boundaries of thought for the few that followed him, and +the many who never knew, and do not know to-day, what hand it was +which took down their prison walls. He was a preacher who taught that +the religion of humanity included both those of Palestine, nor those +alone, and taught it with such consecrated lips that the narrowest +bigot was ashamed to pray for him, as from a footstool nearer to the +throne. "Hitch your wagon to a star": this was his version of the +divine lesson taught by that holy George Herbert whose words he +loved. Give him whatever place belongs to him in our literature, in +the literature of our language, of the world, but remember this: the +end and aim of his being was to make truth lovely and manhood +valorous, and to bring our daily life nearer and nearer to the +eternal, immortal, invisible. + + + + +III + +THE HOUSE IN WHICH THE PROFESSOR LIVED[13] + + +"This is the shortest way," she said, as we came to a corner. + +"Then we won't take it," said I. The schoolmistress laughed a little, +and said she was ten minutes early, so she could go around. + +[Footnote 13: From Part X of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." +Published by Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +We walked around Mr. Paddock's row of English elms. The gray squirrels +were out looking for their breakfasts, and one of them came toward us +in light, soft, intermittent leaps, until he was close to the rail of +the burial ground. He was on a grave with a broad blue slate-stone at +its head, and a shrub growing on it. The stone said this was the grave +of a young man who was the son of an honorable gentleman, and who died +a hundred years ago and more. Oh, yes, died--with a small triangular +mark in one breast, and another smaller opposite, in his back, where +another young man's rapier had slid through his body; and so he lay +down out there on the Common, and was found cold the next morning, +with the night dews and the death dews mingled on his forehead. + +"Let us have one look at poor Benjamin's grave," said I. "His bones +lie where his body was laid so long ago, and where the stone says they +lie--which is more than can be said of most of the tenants of this and +several other burial grounds.... + +"Stop before we turn away, and breathe a woman's sigh over poor +Benjamin's dust. Love killed him, I think. Twenty years old, and out +there fighting another young fellow on the common, in the cool of that +old July evening; yes, there must have been love at the bottom of it." + +The schoolmistress dropt a rosebud she had in her hand through the +rails, upon the grave of Benjamin Woolbridge. That was all her comment +upon what I told her. "How women love Love!" said I; but she did not +speak. + +We came opposite the head of a place or court running eastward from +the main street. "Look down there," I said; "my friend, the Professor, +lived in that house, at the left hand, next the further corner, for +years and years. He died out of it, the other day." "Died?" said the +schoolmistress. "Certainly," said I. "We die out of houses, just as we +die out of our bodies. A commercial smash kills a hundred men's homes +for them, as a railroad crash kills their mortal frames and drives out +the immortal tenants. Men sicken of houses until at last they quit +them, as the soul leaves its body when it is tired of its infirmities. +The body has been called 'the house we live in'; the house is quite +as much the body we live in. Shall I tell you some things the +Professor said the other day?" "Do!" said the schoolmistress. + +"'A man's body,' said the Professor, 'is whatever is occupied by his +will and his sensibility. The small room down there, where I wrote +those papers you remember reading, was much more a part of my body +than a paralytic's senseless and motionless arm or leg is of his. + +"'The soul of a man has a series of concentric envelopes around it, +like the core of an onion, or the innermost of a nest of boxes. First, +he has his natural garment of flesh and blood. Then his artificial +integuments, with their true skin of solid stuffs, their cuticle of +lighter tissues, and their variously tinted pigments. Third, his +domicile, be it a single chamber or a stately mansion. And then, the +whole visible world, in which Time buttons him up as in a loose +outside wrapper. + +"'You shall observe,' the Professor said, for like Mr. John Hunter and +other great men, he brings in that 'shall' with great effect +sometimes, 'you shall observe that a man's clothing or series of +envelopes after a certain time mold themselves upon his individual +nature. We know this of our hats, and are always reminded of it when +we happen to put them on wrong side foremost. We soon find that the +beaver is a hollow cast of the skull, with all its irregular bumps and +depressions. Just so all that clothes a man, even to the blue sky +which caps his head--a little loosely--shapes itself to fit each +particular being beneath it. Farmers, sailors, astronomers, poets, +lovers, condemned criminals, all find it different, according to the +eyes with which they severally look. + +"'But our houses shape themselves palpably on our inner and outer +natures. See a householder breaking up and you will be sure of it. +There is a shellfish which builds all manner of smaller shells into +the walls of its own. A house is never a home until we have crusted it +with the spoils of a hundred lives besides those of our own past. See +what these are, and you can tell what the occupant is. + +"'I had no idea,' said the Professor, 'until I pulled up my domestic +establishment the other day, what an enormous quantity of roots I had +been making the years I was planted there. Why, there wasn't a nook or +a corner that some fiber had not worked its way into; and when I gave +the last wrench, each of them seemed to shriek like a mandrake, as it +broke its hold and came away. + +"'There is nothing that happens, you know, which must not inevitably, +and which does not actually, photograph itself in every conceivable +aspect and in all dimensions. The infinite galleries of the Past await +but one brief process, and all their pictures will be called out and +fixt forever. We had a curious illustration of the great fact on a +very humble scale. When a certain bookcase, long standing in one +place, for which it was built, was removed, there was the exact image +on the wall of the whole, and of many of its portions. But in the +midst of this picture was another--the precise outline of a map which +hung on the wall before the bookcase was built. We had all forgotten +everything about the map until we saw its photograph on the wall. +Then we remembered it, as some day or other we may remember a sin +which has been built over and covered up, when this lower universe is +pulled away from the wall of Infinity, where the wrongdoing stands, +self-recorded.' + +"The Professor lived in that house a long time--not twenty years, but +pretty near it. When he entered that door, two shadows glided over the +threshold; five lingered in the doorway when he passed through it for +the last time--and one of the shadows was claimed by its owner to be +longer than his own. What changes he saw in that quiet place! Death +rained through every roof but his; children came into life, grew to +maturity; wedded, faded away, threw themselves away; the whole drama +of life was played in that stock company's theater of a dozen houses, +one of which was his, and no deep sorrow or severe calamity ever +entered his dwelling. 'Peace be to those walls forever,' the Professor +said, for the many pleasant years he has passed within them. + +"The Professor has a friend, now living at a distance, who has been +with him in many of his changes of place, and who follows him in +imagination with tender interest wherever he goes. In that little +court, where he lived in gay loneliness so long--in his autumnal +sojourn by the Connecticut, where it comes loitering down from its +mountain fastnesses like a great lord, swallowing up the small +proprietary rivulets very quietly as it goes, until it gets proud and +swollen and wantons in huge luxurious oxbows about the fair +Northampton meadows, and at last overflows the oldest inhabitant's +memory in profligate freshets at Hartford and all along its lower +shores--up in that caravansary on the banks of the stream where +Ledyard launched his log canoe, and the jovial old Colonel used to +lead the commencement processions--where blue Ascutney looked down +from the far distance, and the hills of Beulah, as the Professor +always called them, rolled up the opposite horizon in soft climbing +masses, so suggestive of the Pilgrim's Heavenward Path that he used to +look through his old 'Dollond' to see if the Shining Ones were not +within range of sight--sweet visions, sweetest in those Sunday walks +that carried them by the peaceful common, through the solemn village +lying in cataleptic stillness under the shadows of the rod of Moses, +to the terminus of their harmless stroll--the 'patulous fage,' in the +Professor's classic dialect--the spreading beech, in more familiar +phrase--[stop and breathe here a moment, for the sentence is not done +yet, and We have another long journey before us.] + +"--and again once more up among those other hills that shut in the +amber-flowing Housatonic--dark stream, but clear, like the lucid orbs +that shine beneath the lids of auburn-haired, sherry-wine-eyed +demiblondes--in the home overlooking the winding stream and the +smooth, flat meadow; looked down upon by wild hills, where the tracks +of bears and catamounts may yet sometimes be seen upon the winter +snow; facing the twin summits which rise in the far North, the highest +waves of the great land storm in this billowy region--suggestive to +mad fancies of the breasts of a half-buried Titaness, stretched out by +a stray thunderbolt, and hastily hidden away beneath the leaves of +the forest--in that home where seven blest summers were passed, which +stand in memory like the seven golden candlesticks in the beatific +vision of the holy dreamer-- + +"--in that modest dwelling we were just looking at, not glorious, yet +not unlovely in the youth of its drab and mahogany--full of great and +little boys' playthings from top to bottom--in all these summer or +winter nests he was always at home and always welcome. + +"This long articulated sigh of reminiscences--this calenture which +shows me the maple-shadowed plains of Berkshire and the +mountain-circled green of Grafton beneath the salt waves that come +feeling their way along the wall at my feet, restless and +soft-touching as blind men's busy fingers--is for that friend of mine +who looks into the waters of the Patapsco and sees beneath them the +same visions that paint themselves for me in the green depths of the +Charles." + +Did I talk all this off to the schoolmistress? Why, no--of course not. +I have been talking with you, the reader, for the last ten minutes. +You don't think I should expect any woman to listen to such a sentence +as that long one, without giving her a chance to put in a word? + +What did I say to the schoolmistress? Permit me one moment. I don't +doubt your delicacy and good-breeding; but in this particular case, as +I was allowed the privilege of walking alone with a very interesting +young woman, you must allow me to remark, in the classic version of a +familiar phrase, used by our Master Benjamin Franklin, it is _nullum +tui negotii_. + +When the schoolmistress and I reached the schoolroom door, the damask +roses I spoke of were so much heightened in color by exercise that I +felt sure it would be useful to her to take a stroll like this every +morning, and made up my mind I would ask her to let me join her again. + + + + +IV + +OF WOMEN WHO PUT ON AIRS[14] + + +I can't say just how many walks she (the schoolmistress) and I had +taken together before this one. I found the effect of going out every +morning was decidedly favorable on her health. Two pleasing dimples, +the places for which were just marked when she came, played, shadowy, +in her freshening cheeks when she smiled and nodded good-morning to me +from the schoolhouse steps. + +[Footnote 14: From Part XI of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." +Published by Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +I am afraid I did the greater part of the talking. At any rate, if I +should try to report all that I said during the first half-dozen walks +we took together, I fear that I might receive a gentle hint from my +friends the publishers that a separate volume, at my own risk and +expense, would be the proper method of bringing them before the +public. + +I would have a woman as true as death. At the first real lie which +works from the heart outward she should be tenderly chloroformed into +a better world, where she can have an angel for a governess, and feed +on strange fruits which will make her all over again, even to her +bones and marrow. Whether gifted with the accident of beauty or not, +she should have been molded in the rose-red clay of love before the +breath of life made a moving mortal of her. Love capacity is a +congenital endowment; and I think, after a while, one gets to know the +warm-hued natures it belongs to from the pretty pipe-clay counterfeits +of it. Proud she may be, in the sense of respecting herself; but +pride, in the sense of contemning others less gifted than herself, +deserves the two lowest circles of a vulgar woman's Inferno, where the +punishments are smallpox and bankruptcy. She who nips off the end of a +brittle courtesy, as one breaks the tip of an icicle, to bestow upon +those whom she ought cordially and kindly to recognize, proclaims the +fact that she comes not merely of low blood, but of bad blood. +Consciousness of unquestioned position makes people gracious in proper +measure to all; but if a woman puts on airs with her real equals, she +has something about herself or her family she is ashamed of, or ought +to be. Middle, and more than middle-aged people, who know family +histories, generally see through it. An official of standing was rude +to me once. "Oh, that is the maternal grandfather," said a wise old +friend to me, "he was a boor." Better too few words, from the woman we +love, than too many: while she is silent, Nature is working for her; +while she talks, she is working for herself. Love is sparingly soluble +in the words of men; therefore they speak much of it; but one +syllable of woman's speech can dissolve more of it than a man's heart +can hold. + +Whether I said any or all of these things to the schoolmistress or +not--whether I stole them put of Lord Bacon--whether I cribbed them +from Balzac--whether I dipt them from the ocean of Tupperian +wisdom--or whether I have just found them in my head (laid there by +that solemn fowl, Experience, who, according to my observation, +cackles oftener than she drops real, live eggs), I can not say. Wise +men have said more foolish things--and foolish men, I don't doubt, +have said as wise things. Anyhow, the schoolmistress and I had +pleasant walks and long talks, all of which I do not feel bound to +report. + +You are a stranger to me, Ma'am.--I don't doubt you would like to know +all I said to the schoolmistress.--I shan't do it; I had rather get +the publishers to return the money you have invested in this. Besides, +I have forgotten a good deal of it. I shall tell only what I like of +what I remember. + + + + +MARGARET FULLER + + Born in Massachusetts in 1810; lost in a shipwreck off Fire + Island in 1850; edited _The Dial_ in 1840-42; literary + critic for the New York _Tribune_ in 1844-46; went to Europe + in 1846; married the Marquis d'Ossoli in 1847; in Rome + during the Revolution of 1848-49; published "A Summer on the + Lakes" in 1843, "Woman in the Nineteenth Century" in 1845, + "Papers on Art and Literature" in 1846. + + + + +I + +HER VISIT TO GEORGE SAND[15] + + +It is the custom to go and call on those to whom you bring letters, +and push yourself upon their notice; thus you must go quite ignorant +whether they are disposed to be cordial. My name is always murdered by +the foreign servants who announce me. I speak very bad French; only +lately have I had sufficient command of it to infuse some of my +natural spirit in my discourse. This has been a great trial to me, who +am eloquent and free in my own tongue, to be forced to feel my +thoughts struggling in vain for utterance. + +[Footnote 15: From a letter to Elizabeth Hoar, written in 1847 and +printed in the "Memoirs."] + +The servant who admitted me was in the picturesque costume of a +peasant, and as Madame Sand afterward told me, her goddaughter, whom +she had brought from her province. She announced me as "Madame +Salere," and returned into the anteroom to tell me, "Madame says she +does not know you." I began to think I was doomed to rebuff among the +crowd who deserve it. However, to make assurance sure, I said, "Ask if +she has received a letter from me." As I spoke Madame Sand opened the +door, and stood looking at me an instant. Our eyes met. + +I never shall forget her look at that moment. The doorway made a frame +for her figure; she is large but well formed. She was drest in a robe +of dark-violet silk, with a black mantle on her shoulders, her +beautiful hair drest with the greatest taste; her whole appearance and +attitude, in its simple and ladylike dignity, presented an almost +ludicrous contrast to the vulgar caricature idea of George Sand. Her +face is a very little like the portraits, but much finer; the upper +part of the forehead and eyes are beautiful, the lower strong and +masculine, expressive of a hardy temperament and strong passions, but +not in the least coarse; the complexion olive, and the air of the +whole head Spanish (as, indeed, she was born at Madrid, and is only on +one side of French blood). + +All these I saw at a glance; but what fixt my attention was the +expression of goodness, nobleness, and power that pervaded the +whole--the truly human heart and nature that shone in the eyes. As our +eyes met, she said, "_C'est vous_," and held out her hand. I took it, +and went into her little study; we sat down a moment; then I said, +"_Il me fait de bien de vous voir_," and I am sure I said it with my +whole heart, for it made me very happy to see such a woman, so large +and so developed in character, and everything that is good in it so +really good. I loved, shall always love her. + +She looked away, and said, _"Ah! vous m'avez ecrit une lettre +charmante_." This was all the preliminary of our talk, which then went +on as if we had always known one another.... Her way of talking is +just like her writing--lively, picturesque, with an undertone of deep +feeling, and the same happiness in striking the nail on the head every +now and then with a blow.... I heartily enjoyed the sense of so rich, +so prolific, so ardent a genius. I liked the woman in her, too, very +much; I never liked a woman better.... For the rest, she holds her +place in the literary and social world of France like a man, and seems +full of energy and courage in it. I suppose she has suffered much, but +she has also enjoyed and done much. + + + + +II + +TWO GLIMPSES OF CARLYLE[16] + + +Of the people I saw in London you will wish me to speak first of the +Carlyles. Mr. Carlyle came to see me at once, and appointed an evening +to be passed at their house. That first time I was delighted with him. +He was in a very sweet humor--full of wit and pathos, without being +overbearing or oppressive. I was quite carried away with the rich +flow of his discourse; and the hearty, noble earnestness of his +personal being brought back the charm which once was upon his writing, +before I wearied of it. I admired his Scotch, his way of singing his +great full sentences, so that each one was like the stanza of a +narrative ballad. He let me talk, now and then, enough to free my +lungs and change my position, so that I did not get tired. That +evening he talked of the present state of things in England, giving +light, witty sketches of the men of the day, fanatics and others, and +some sweet, homely stories he told of things he had known of the +Scotch peasantry. Of you he spoke with hearty kindness; and he told +with beautiful feeling a story of some poor farmer or artizan in the +country, who on Sunday lays aside the cark and care of that dirty +English world, and sits reading the "Essays" and looking upon the +sea.... + +[Footnote 16: From a letter to Emerson, written in 1846, and printed +in the "Memoirs."] + +The second time Mr. Carlyle had a dinner party, at which was a witty, +French, flippant sort of a man, named Lewes,[17] author of a "History +of Philosophy," and now writing a life of Goethe, a task for which he +must be as unfit as irreligion and sparkling shallowness can make him. +But he told stories admirably, and was allowed sometimes to interrupt +Carlyle a little--of which one was glad, for that night he was in his +acrid mood; and tho much more brilliant than on the former evening, +grew wearisome to me, who disclaimed and rejected almost everything +he said.... + +[Footnote 17: George Henry Lewes, whose relations to George Eliot +began after Margaret Fuller's visit. Lewes was not a Frenchman, but of +Welsh descent, born in London, and a grandson of Charles Lee Lewes, +the actor.] + +Accustomed to the infinite wit and exuberant richness of his writings, +his talk is still an amazement and a splendor scarcely to be faced +with steady eyes. He does not converse, only harangues. It is the +usual misfortune of such marked men--happily not one invariable or +inevitable--that they can not allow other minds room to breathe, and +show themselves in their atmosphere, and thus miss the refreshment and +instruction which the greatest never cease to need from the experience +of the humblest. Carlyle allows no one a chance, but bears down all +opposition, not only by his wit and onset of words, resistless in +their sharpness as so many bayonets, but by actual physical +superiority--raising his voice and rushing on his opponent with a +torrent of sound. This is not in the least from unwillingness to allow +freedom to others. On the contrary, no man would more enjoy a manly +resistance in his thoughts. But it is the impulse of a mind accustomed +to follow out its own impulse, as the hawk its prey, and which knows +not how to stop in the chase. + +Carlyle indeed is arrogant and overbearing; but in his arrogance there +is no littleness, no self-love. It is the heroic arrogance of some old +Scandinavian conqueror; it is his nature, and the untamable impulse +that has given him power to crush the dragons. He sings rather than +talks. He pours upon you a kind of satirical, heroical, critical poem, +with regular cadences, and generally catching up, near the beginning, +some singular epithet which serves as a refrain when his song is +full, or with which, as with a knitting-needle, he catches up the +stitches, if he has chanced now and then to let fall a row. For the +higher kinds of poetry he has no sense, and his talk on that subject +is delightfully and gorgeously absurd. He sometimes stops a minute to +laugh at it himself, then begins anew with fresh vigor; for all the +spirits he is driving before him as Fata Morgana,[18] ugly masks, in +fact, if he can but make them turn about; but he laughs that they seem +to others such dainty Ariels. His talk, like his books, is full of +pictures; his critical strokes masterly. Allow for his point of view, +and his survey is admirable. He is a large subject. I can not speak +more or wiselier of him now, nor needs it; his works are true, to +blame and praise him--the Siegfried of England, great and powerful, if +not quite invulnerable, and of a might rather to destroy evil than +legislate for good. + +[Footnote 18: Fata (a fairy) Morgana, sister of King Arthur, is a +leading figure in the "Morte d'Arthur" and other romances, including +Italian.] + + + + +HORACE GREELEY + + Born in New Hampshire in 1811, died in 1872; came to New + York in 1831, where he edited the _Log Cabin_ during the + Harrison-Tyler campaign; in 1841 founded _The Tribune;_ + member of Congress in 1848-49; prominent as an anti-slavery + leader and supporter of the Union cause; nominated for + president by the Liberal-Republican and Democratic parties + in 1872, but defeated by Gen. Grant; published + "Recollections of a Busy Life" in 1868, and "The American + Conflict" in 1864-66. + + + + +I + +THE FATALITY OF SELF-SEEKING IN EDITORS AND AUTHORS[19] + + +It only remains to me to speak more especially of my own vocation--the +editor's--which bears much the same relation to the author's that the +bellows-blower's bears to the organist's, the player's to the +dramatist's, Julian or Liszt to Weber or Beethoven. The editor, from +the absolute necessity of the case, can not speak deliberately; he +must write to-day of to-day's incidents and aspects, tho these may be +completely overlaid and transformed by the incidents and aspects of +to-morrow. He must write and strive in the full consciousness that +whatever honor or distinction he may acquire must perish with the +generation that bestowed them--with the thunders of applause that +greeted Kemble or Jenny Lind, with the ruffianism that expelled +Macready, or the cheerful laugh that erewhile rewarded the sallies of +Burton or Placide.[20] + +[Footnote 19: Printed with the "Miscellanies" In the "Recollections of +a Busy Life."] + +[Footnote 20: Henry Placide, an American actor born in Charleston, who +excelled in the parts of Sir Peter Teazle and Sir Anthony Absolute.] + +No other public teacher lives so wholly in the present as the editor; +and the noblest affirmations of unpopular truth--the most +self-sacrificing defiance of a base and selfish public sentiment that +regards only the most sordid ends, and values every utterance solely +as it tends to preserve quiet and contentment, while the dollars fall +jingling into the merchant's drawer, the land-jobber's vault, and the +miser's bag--can but be noted in their day, and with their day +forgotten. It is his cue to utter silken and smooth sayings--to +condemn vice so as not to interfere with the pleasures or alarm the +conscience of the vicious--to praise and champion liberty so as not to +give annoyance or offense to slavery, and to commend and glorify labor +without attempting to expose or repress any of the gainful +contrivances by which labor is plundered and degraded. Thus sidling +dextrously between somewhere and nowhere, the able editor of the +nineteenth century may glide through life respectable and in good +ease, and lie down to his long rest with the non-achievements of his +life emblazoned on the very whitest marble, surmounting and glorifying +his dust. + +There is a different and sterner path--I know not whether there be any +now qualified to tread it--I am not sure that even one has ever +followed it implicitly, in view of the certain meagerness of its +temporal rewards and the haste wherewith any fame acquired in a sphere +so thoroughly ephemeral as the editor's must be shrouded by the dark +waters of oblivion. This path demands an ear ever open to the plaints +of the wronged and the suffering, tho they can never repay advocacy, +and those who mainly support newspapers will be annoyed and often +exposed by it; a heart as sensitive to oppression and degradation in +the next street as if they were practised in Brazil or Japan; a pen as +ready to expose and reprove the crimes whereby wealth is amassed and +luxury enjoyed in our own country at this hour as if they had only +been committed by Turks or pagans in Asia some centuries ago. + +Such an editor, could one be found or trained, need not expect to lead +an easy, indolent, or wholly joyous life--to be blest by archbishops +or followed by the approving shouts of ascendent majorities; but he +might find some recompense for their loss in the calm verdict of an +approving conscience; and the tears of the despised and the +friendless, preserved from utter despair by his efforts and +remonstrances, might freshen for a season the daisies that bloomed +above his grave. + +Literature is a noble calling, but only when the call obeyed by the +aspirant issues from a world to be enlightened and blest, not from a +void stomach clamoring to be gratified and filled. Authorship is a +royal priesthood; but wo to him who rashly lays unhallowed hands on +the ark or the altar, professing a zeal for the welfare of the race +only that he may secure the confidence and sympathies of others, and +use them for his own selfish ends! If a man have no heroism in his +soul--no animating purpose beyond living easily and faring +sumptuously--I can imagine no greater mistake on his part than that of +resorting to authorship as a vocation. That such a one may achieve +what he regards as success I do not deny; but, if so, he does it at +greater risk and by greater exertion than would have been required to +win it in any other pursuit. No; it can not be wise in a selfish, or +sordid, or sensual man to devote himself to literature; the fearful +self-exposure incident to this way of life--the dire necessity which +constrains the author to stamp his own essential portrait on every +volume of his works, no matter how carefully he may fancy he has +erased, or how artfully he may suppose he has concealed it--this +should repel from the vestibule of the temple of fame the foot of +every profane or mocking worshiper. + +But if you are sure that your impulse is not personal nor sinister, +but a desire to serve and ennoble your race, rather than to dazzle and +be served by it; that you are ready joyfully to "scorn delights, and +live laborious days," so that thereby the well-being of mankind may be +promoted--then I pray you not to believe that the world is too wise to +need further enlightenment, nor that it would be impossible for one so +humble as yourself to say aught whereby error may be dispelled or good +be diffused. Sell not your integrity; barter not your independence; +beg of no man the privilege of earning a livelihood by authorship; +since that is to degrade your faculty, and very probably to corrupt +it; but seeing through your own clear eyes, and uttering the impulses +of your own honest heart, speak or write as truth and love shall +dictate, asking no material recompense, but living by the labor of +your hands, until recompense shall be voluntarily tendered to secure +your service, and you may frankly accept it without a compromise of +your integrity or a peril to your freedom. Soldier in the long warfare +for man's rescue from darkness and evil, choose not your place on the +battle-field, but joyfully accept that assigned you; asking not +whether there be higher or lower, but only whether it is here that you +can most surely do your proper work, and meet your full share of the +responsibility and the danger. + +Believe not that the heroic age is no more; since to that age is only +requisite the heroic purpose and the heroic soul. So long as ignorance +and evil shall exist so long there will be work for the devoted, and +so long will there be room in the ranks of those who, defying obloquy, +misapprehension, bigotry, and interested craft, struggle and dare for +the redemption of the world. "Of making many books there is no end," +tho there is happily a speedy end of most books after they are made; +but he who by voice or pen strikes his best blow at the impostures and +vices whereby our race is debased and paralyzed may close his eyes in +death, consoled and cheered by the reflection that he has done what he +could for the emancipation and elevation of his kind. + + + + +JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY + + Born in 1814, died in 1877; graduated from Harvard in 1831; + studied at Goettingen and Berlin; returned to America in 1834 + and admitted to the bar, but soon took up the study of + history; United States minister to Austria in 1861-68, and + to Great Britain in 1869-70; published his "Rise of the + Dutch Republic" in 1856, "History of the United Netherlands" + in 1860-67, and "John of Barneveld" in 1874. + + + + +I + +CHARLES V AND PHILIP II IN BRUSSELS[21] + +(1555) + + +The Emperor, like many potentates before and since, was fond of great +political spectacles. He knew their influence upon the masses of +mankind. Altho plain even to shabbiness in his own costume, and +usually attired in black, no one ever understood better than he how to +arrange such exhibitions in a striking and artistic style. We have +seen the theatrical and imposing manner in which he quelled the +insurrection at Ghent, and nearly crusht the life forever out of that +vigorous and turbulent little commonwealth. The closing scene of his +long and energetic reign he had now arranged with profound study, and +with an accurate knowledge of the manner in which the requisite +effects were to be produced. The termination of his own career, the +opening of his beloved Philip's, were to be dramatized in a manner +worthy the august characters of the actors, and the importance of the +great stage where they played their parts. The eyes of the whole world +were directed upon that day toward Brussels; for an imperial +abdication was an event which had not, in the sixteenth century, been +staled by custom. + +[Footnote 21: From Chapter I of the "The Rise of the Dutch Republic." +Published by Harper & Brothers. After his abdication Charles V retired +to a monastery, where he died three years later.] + +The gay capital of Brabant--of that province which rejoiced in the +liberal constitution known by the cheerful title of the "joyful +entrance"--was worthy to be the scene of the imposing show. Brussels +had been a city for more than five centuries, and at that day numbered +about one hundred thousand inhabitants. Its walls, six miles in +circumference, were already two hundred years old. Unlike most +Netherland cities, lying usually upon extensive plains, it was built +along the sides of an abrupt promontory. A wide expanse of living +verdure--cultivated gardens, shady groves, fertile cornfields--flowed +round it like a sea. The foot of the town was washed by the little +river Senne, while the irregular but picturesque streets rose up the +steep sides of the hill like the semicircles and stairways of an +amphitheater. Nearly in the heart of the place rose the audacious and +exquisitely embroidered tower of the town-house, three hundred and +sixty-six feet in height; a miracle of needlework in stone, rivaling +in its intricate carving the cobweb tracery of that lace which has for +centuries been synonymous with the city, and rearing itself above a +facade of profusely decorated and brocaded architecture. The crest of +the elevation was crowned by the towers of the old ducal palace of +Brabant, with its extensive and thickly wooded park on the left, and +by the stately mansions of Orange, Egmont, Aremberg, Culemburg, and +other Flemish grandees, on the right.... + +The palace where the states-general were upon this occasion convened +had been the residence of the dukes of Brabant since the days of John +the Second, who had built it about the year 1300. It was a spacious +and convenient building, but not distinguished for the beauty of its +architecture. In front was a large open square, enclosed by an iron +railing; in the rear an extensive and beautiful park, filled with +forest trees, and containing gardens and labyrinths, fish-ponds and +game preserves, fountains and promenades, race-courses and archery +grounds. The main entrance to this edifice opened upon a spacious +hall, connected with a beautiful and symmetrical chapel. The hall was +celebrated for its size, harmonious proportions, and the richness of +its decorations. It was the place where the chapters of the famous +order of the Golden Fleece were held. Its walls were hung with a +magnificent tapestry of Arras, representing the life and achievements +of Gideon the Midianite, and giving particular prominence to the +miracle of the "fleece of wool," vouchsafed to that renowned champion, +the great patron of the Knights of the Fleece. + +On the present occasion there were various additional embellishments +of flowers and votive garlands. At the western end a spacious platform +or stage, with six or seven steps, had been constructed, below which +was a range of benches for the deputies of the seventeen provinces. +Upon the stage itself there were rows of seats, covered with tapestry, +upon the right hand and upon the left. These were respectively to +accommodate the knights of the order and the guests of high +distinction. In the rear of these were other benches for the members +of the three great councils. In the center of the stage was a splendid +canopy, decorated with the arms of Burgundy, beneath which were placed +three gilded arm-chairs. All the seats upon the platform were vacant; +but the benches below, assigned to the deputies of the provinces, were +already filled. Numerous representatives from all the States but +two--Gelderland and Overyssel--had already taken their places. Grave +magistrates in chain and gown, and executive officers in the splendid +civic uniforms for which the Netherlands were celebrated, already +filled every seat within the space allotted. The remainder of the hall +was crowded with the more favored portion of the multitude, which had +been fortunate enough to procure admission to the exhibition. The +archers and halbardiers of the body-guard kept watch at all the doors. +The theater was filled, the audience was eager with expectation, the +actors were yet to arrive. + +As the clock struck three, the hero of the scene appeared. Caesar, as +he was always designated in the classic language of the day, entered, +leaning on the shoulder of William of Orange. They came from the +chapel, and were immediately followed by Philip the Second and Queen +Mary of Hungary. The Archduke Maximilian, the Duke of Savoy, and +other great personages came afterward, accompanied by a glittering +throng of warriors, councilors, governors, and Knights of the Fleece. + +Many individuals of existing or future historic celebrity in the +Netherlands, whose names are so familiar to the student of the epoch, +seemed to have been grouped, as if by premeditated design, upon this +imposing platform, where the curtain was to fall forever upon the +mightiest emperor since Charlemagne, and where the opening scene of +the long and tremendous tragedy of Philip's reign was to be +simultaneously enacted. There was the bishop of Arras, soon to be +known throughout Christendom by the more celebrated title of Cardinal +Granvelle--the serene and smiling priest, whose subtle influence over +the destinies of so many individuals then present, and over the +fortunes of the whole land, was to be so extensive and so deadly. +There was that flower of Flemish chivalry, the lineal descendant of +ancient Frisian kings, already distinguished for his bravery in many +fields, but not having yet won those two remarkable victories which +were soon to make the name of Egmont like the sound of a trumpet +throughout the whole country. Tall, magnificent in costume, with dark +flowing hair, soft brown eye, smooth cheek, a slight mustache, and +features of almost feminine delicacy--such was the gallant and +ill-fated Lamoral Egmont. The Count of Hoorne,[22] too, with bold, +sullen face, and fan-shaped beard--a brave, honest, discontented, +quarrelsome, unpopular man; those other twins in doom, the Marquis +Berghen and the Lord of Montigny; the Baron Berlaymont, brave, +intensely loyal, insatiably greedy for office and wages, but who at +least never served but one party; the Duke of Arschot, who was to +serve all, essay to rule all, and to betray all--a splendid seignior, +magnificent in cramoisy velvet, but a poor creature, who traced his +pedigree from Adam according to the family monumental inscriptions at +Louvain, but who was better known as grandnephew of the Emperor's +famous tutor Chievres; the bold, debauched Brederode, with handsome, +reckless face and turbulent demeanor; the infamous Noircarmes, whose +name was to be covered with eternal execration for aping toward his +own compatriots and kindred as much of Alva's atrocities and avarice +as he was permitted to exercise; the distinguished soldiers Meghen and +Aremberg--these, with many others whose deeds of arms were to become +celebrated throughout Europe, were all conspicuous in the brilliant +crowd. There, too, was that learned Frisian, President Viglius, +crafty, plausible, adroit, eloquent--a small, brisk man, with long +yellow hair, glittering green eyes, round, tumid, rosy cheeks, and +flowing beard. Foremost among the Spanish grandees, and close to +Philip, stood the famous favorite, Ruy Gomez, or, as he was familiarly +called, "_Re y Gomez_" (King and Gomez)--a man of meridional aspect, +with coal-black hair and beard, gleaming eyes, a face pallid with +intense application, and slender but handsome figure; while in +immediate attendance upon the Emperor was the immortal Prince of +Orange. + +[Footnote 22: See Prescott's account of the execution of Egmont and +Hoorne, in Volume IX of this collection.] + +Such were a few only of the most prominent in that gay throng, whose +fortunes in part it will be our humble duty to narrate; how many of +them passing through all this glitter to a dark and mysterious gloom! +some to perish on public scaffolds, some by midnight assassination; +others, more fortunate, to fall on the battle-field; nearly all, +sooner or later, to be laid in bloody graves! + +All the company present had risen to their feet as the Emperor +entered. By his command, all immediately after resumed their places. +The benches at either end of the platform were accordingly filled with +the royal and princely personages invited--with the Fleece Knights, +wearing the insignia of their order, with the members of the three +great councils, and with the governors. The Emperor, the King, and the +Queen of Hungary were left conspicuous in the center of the scene. As +the whole object of the ceremony was to present an impressive +exhibition, it is worth our while to examine minutely the appearance +of the two principal characters. + +Charles the Fifth was then fifty-five years and eight months old; but +he was already decrepit with premature old age. He was of about the +middle height; and had been athletic and well proportioned. Broad in +the shoulders, deep in the chest, thin in the flank, very muscular in +the arms and legs, he had been able to match himself with all +competitors in the tourney and the ring, and to vanquish the bull with +his own hand in the favorite national amusement of Spain. He had been +able in the field to do the duty of captain and soldier, to endure +fatigue and exposure, and every privation except fasting. These +personal advantages were now departed. Crippled in hands, knees, and +legs, he supported himself with difficulty upon a crutch, with the aid +of an attendant's shoulder. In face he had always been extremely ugly, +and time had certainly not improved his physiognomy. His hair, once of +a light color, was now white with age, close-clipt and bristling; his +beard was gray, coarse, and shaggy. His forehead was spacious and +commanding; the eye was dark-blue, with an expression both majestic +and benignant. His nose was aquiline but crooked. The lower part of +his face was famous for its deformity. The under lip, a Burgundian +inheritance, as faithfully transmitted as the duchy and county, was +heavy and hanging; the lower jaw protruding so far beyond the upper +that it was impossible for him to bring together the few fragments of +teeth which still remained, or to speak a whole sentence in an +intelligible voice. Eating and talking, occupations to which he was +always much addicted, were becoming daily more arduous in consequence +of this original defect; which now seemed hardly human, but rather an +original deformity. + +So much for the father. The son, Philip the Second, was a small, +meager man, much below the middle height, with thin legs, a narrow +chest, and the shrinking, timid air of a habitual invalid. He seemed +so little upon his first visit to his aunts, the Queens Eleanor and +Mary, accustomed to look upon proper men in Flanders and Germany, that +he was fain to win their favor by making certain attempts in the +tournament, in which his success was sufficiently problematical. "His +body," says his profest panegyrist, "was but a human cage, in which, +however brief and narrow, dwelt a soul to whose flight the +immeasurable expanse of heaven was too contracted." The same wholesale +admirer adds that "his aspect was so reverend that rustics who met him +alone in the wood, without knowing him, bowed down with instinctive +veneration." In face he was the living image of his father; having the +same broad forehead and blue eye, with the same aquiline, but better +proportioned, nose. In the lower part of the countenance the +remarkable Burgundian deformity was likewise reproduced: he had the +same heavy, hanging lip, with a vast mouth, and monstrously protruding +lower jaw. His complexion was fair, his hair light and thin, his beard +yellow, short, and pointed. He had the aspect of a Fleming, but the +loftiness of a Spaniard. His demeanor in public was still, silent, +almost sepulchral. He looked habitually on the ground when he +conversed, was chary of speech, embarrassed and even suffering in +manner. This was ascribed partly to a natural haughtiness, which he +had occasionally endeavored to overcome, and partly to habitual pains +in the stomach, occasioned by his inordinate fondness for pastry. + +Such was the personal appearance of the man who was about to receive +into his single hand the destinies of half the world; whose single +will was, for the future, to shape the fortunes of every individual +then present, of many millions more in Europe, America, and at the +ends of the earth, and of countless millions yet unborn.... + +The Emperor then rose to his feet. Leaning on his crutch, he beckoned +from his seat the personage upon whose arm he had leaned as he +entered the hall. A tall, handsome youth of twenty-two came forward: a +man whose name from that time forward, and as long as history shall +endure, has been and will be more familiar than any other in the +mouths of Netherlanders. At that day he had rather a southern than a +German or Flemish appearance. He had a Spanish cast of features, dark, +well chiseled, and symmetrical. His head was small and well placed +upon his shoulders. His hair was dark brown, as were also his mustache +and peaked beard. His forehead was lofty, spacious, and already +prematurely engraved with the anxious lines of thought. His eyes were +full, brown, well opened, and expressive of profound reflection. He +was drest in the magnificent apparel for which the Netherlanders were +celebrated above all other nations, and which the ceremony rendered +necessary. His presence being considered indispensable at this great +ceremony, he had been summoned but recently from the camp on the +frontier, where, notwithstanding his youth, the Emperor had appointed +him to command his army in chief against such antagonists as Admiral +Coligny and the Duc de Nevers. + +Thus supported upon his crutch and upon the shoulder of William of +Orange, the Emperor proceeded to address the States, by the aid of a +closely written brief which he held in his hand. He reviewed rapidly +the progress of events from his seventeenth year up to that day. +Turning to Philip, he observed that for a dying father to bequeath so +magnificent an empire to his son was a deed worthy of gratitude; but +that when the father thus descended to the grave before his time, and +by an anticipated and living burial sought to provide for the welfare +of his realms and the grandeur of his son, the benefit thus conferred +was surely far greater. He added that the debt would be paid to him +and with usury, should Philip conduct himself in his administration of +the province with a wise and affectionate regard to their true +interests.... + +Sobs were heard throughout every portion of the hall, and tears poured +profusely from every eye. The Fleece Knights on the platform and the +burghers in the background were all melted with the same emotion. As +for the Emperor himself, he sank almost fainting upon his chair as he +concluded his address. An ashy paleness overspread his countenance, +and he wept like a child. Even the icy Philip was almost softened, as +he rose to perform his part in the ceremony. Dropping upon his knees +before his father's feet, he reverently kissed his hand. Charles +placed his hands solemnly upon his son's head, made the sign of the +cross, and blest him in the name of the Holy Trinity. Then raising him +in his arms he tenderly embraced him, saying, as he did so, to the +great potentates around him, that he felt a sincere compassion for the +son on whose shoulders so heavy a weight had just devolved, and which +only a lifelong labor would enable him to support.... + +The orations and replies having now been brought to a close, the +ceremony was terminated. The Emperor, leaning on the shoulders of the +Prince of Orange and of the Count de Buren, slowly left the hall, +followed by Philip, the Queen of Hungary, and the whole court; all in +the same order in which they had entered, and by the same passage into +the chapel. + + + + +II + +THE ARRIVAL OF THE SPANISH ARMADA[23] + +(1588) + + +Almost at that very instant intelligence had been brought from the +court to the Lord Admiral at Plymouth that the Armada, dispersed and +shattered by the gales of June, was not likely to make its appearance +that year; and orders had consequently been given to disarm the four +largest ships and send them into dock. Even Walsingham had +participated in this strange delusion. + +[Footnote 23: From Chapter XIX of the "History of the United +Netherlands." Published by Harper & Brothers. See Hume's account of +the arrival of the Armada in Volume IV, page 113, of this collection.] + +Before Howard[24] had time to act upon this ill-timed suggestion--even +had he been disposed to do so--he received authentic intelligence that +the great fleet was off the Lizard. Neither he nor Francis Drake were +the men to lose time in such an emergency; and before that Friday +night was spent, sixty of the best English ships had been warped out +of Plymouth harbor. + +[Footnote 24: Lord Howard of Effingham, commander of the English +fleet.] + +On Saturday, 30th July, the wind was very light at southwest, with a +mist and drizzling rain; but by three in the afternoon the two fleets +could descry and count each other through the haze. + +By nine o'clock, 31st July, about two miles from Looe on the Cornish +coast, the fleets had their first meeting. There were one hundred and +thirty-six sail of the Spaniards, of which ninety were large ships; +and sixty-seven of the English. It was a solemn moment. The +long-expected Armada presented a pompous, almost a theatrical +appearance. The ships seemed arranged for a pageant, in honor of a +victory already won. Disposed in form of a crescent, the horns of +which were seven miles asunder, those gilded, towered, floating +castles, with their gaudy standards and their martial music, moved +slowly along the channel, with an air of indolent pomp. Their +captain-general, the golden duke, stood in his private shot-proof +fortress, on the deck of his great galleon the _St. Martin_, +surrounded by generals of infantry and colonels of cavalry, who knew +as little as he did himself of naval matters. + +The English vessels, on the other hand--with a few exceptions light, +swift, and easily handled--could sail round and round those unwieldy +galleons, hulks, and galleys rowed by fettered slave gangs. The +superior seamanship of free Englishmen commanded by such experienced +captains as Drake, Frobisher,[25] and Hawkins[26]--from infancy at +home on blue water--was manifest in the very first encounter. They +obtained the weather-gage at once, and cannonaded the enemy at +intervals with considerable effect; easily escaping at will out of +range of the sluggish Armada, which was incapable of bearing sail in +pursuit, altho provided with an armament which could sink all its +enemies at close quarters. "We had some small fight with them that +Sunday afternoon," said Hawkins. + +[Footnote 25: Sir Martin Frobisher, who in 1576 commanded an +expedition in search of the Northwest Passage, and discovered the bay +since called after him.] + +[Footnote 26: Sir John Hawkins at this time was a rear-admiral. He was +knighted after the defeat of the Armada.] + +Medina Sidonia[27] hoisted the royal standard at the fore; and the +whole fleet did its utmost, which was little, to offer general battle. +It was in vain. The English, following at the heels of the enemy, +refused all such invitations, and attacked only the rear-guard of the +Armada, where Recalde commanded. That admiral, steadily maintaining +his post, faced his nimble antagonists, who continued to tease, to +maltreat, and to elude him, while the rest of the fleet proceeded +slowly up the Channel closely followed by the enemy. And thus the +running fight continued along the coast, in full view of Plymouth, +whence boats with reenforcements and volunteers were perpetually +arriving to the English ships, until the battle had drifted quite out +of reach of the town. + +[Footnote 27: The Duke of Medina Sidonia, who commanded the Armada.] + +Already in this first "small fight" the Spaniards had learned a +lesson, and might even entertain a doubt of their invincibility. But +before the sun set there were more serious disasters. Much powder and +shot had been expended by the Spaniard to very little purpose, and so +a master-gunner on board Admiral Oquendo's flag-ship was reprimanded +for careless ball-practise. The gunner, who was a Fleming, enraged +with his captain, laid a train to the powder-magazine, fired it, and +threw himself into the sea. Two decks blew up. The great castle at the +stern rose into clouds, carrying with it the paymaster-general of the +fleet, a large portion of treasure, and nearly two hundred men. The +ship was a wreck, but it was possible to save the rest of the crew. So +Medina Sidonia sent light vessels to remove them, and wore with his +flag-ship to defend Oquendo, who had already been fastened upon by his +English pursuers. But the Spaniards, not being so light in hand as +their enemies, involved themselves in much embarrassment by their +maneuver, and there was much falling foul of each other, entanglement +of rigging, and carrying away of yards. Oquendo's men, however, were +ultimately saved and taken to other ships. + +Meantime Don Pedro de Valdez, commander of the Andalusian squadron, +having got his galleon into collision with two or three Spanish ships +successively, had at last carried away his foremast close to the deck, +and the wreck had fallen against his main-mast. He lay crippled and +helpless, the Armada was slowly deserting him, night was coming on, +the sea was running high, and the English, ever hovering near, were +ready to grapple with him. In vain did Don Pedro fire signals of +distress. The captain-general--even as tho the unlucky galleon had not +been connected with the Catholic fleet--calmly fired a gun to collect +his scattered ships, and abandoned Valdez to his fate. "He left me +comfortless in sight of the whole fleet," said poor Pedro; "and +greater inhumanity and unthankfulness I think was never heard of among +men." + +Yet the Spaniard comported himself most gallantly. Frobisher, in the +largest ship of the English fleet, the _Triumph_, of eleven hundred +tons, and Hawkins in the _Victory_, of eight hundred, cannonaded him +at a distance, but night coming on, he was able to resist; and it was +not till the following morning that he surrendered to the _Revenge_. + +Drake then received the gallant prisoner on board his flag-ship--much +to the disgust and indignation of Frobisher and Hawkins, thus +disappointed of their prize and ransom money--treated him with much +courtesy, and gave his word of honor that he and his men should be +treated fairly like good prisoners of war. This pledge was redeemed; +for it was not the English, as it was the Spanish custom, to convert +captives into slaves, but only to hold them for ransom. Valdez +responded to Drake's politeness by kissing his hand, embracing him, +and overpowering him with magnificent compliments. He was then sent on +board the Lord Admiral, who received him with similar urbanity, and +exprest his regret that so distinguished a personage should have been +so coolly deserted by the Duke of Medina. Don Pedro then returned to +the _Revenge_, where, as the guest of Drake, he was a witness to all +subsequent events up to the 10th of August; on which day he was sent +to London with some other officers, Sir Francis claiming his ransom as +his lawful due. + +Here certainly was no very triumphant beginning for the Invincible Armada. +On the very first day of their being in presence of the English fleet--then +but sixty-seven in number, and vastly their inferior in size and weight of +metal--they had lost the flagships of the Guipuzcoan and of the Andalusian +squadrons, with a general-admiral, four hundred and fifty officers and men, +and some one hundred thousand ducats of treasure. They had been +outmaneuvered, outsailed, and thoroughly maltreated by their antagonists, +and they had been unable to inflict a single blow in return. Thus the +"small fight" had been a cheerful one for the opponents of the Inquisition, +and the English were proportionally encouraged.... + +Never, since England was England, had such a sight been seen as now +revealed itself in those narrow straits between Dover and Calais. +Along that long, low, sandy shore, and quite within the range of the +Calais fortifications, one hundred and thirty Spanish ships--the +greater number of them the largest and most heavily armed in the +world--lay face to face, and scarcely out of cannon-shot, with one +hundred and fifty English sloops and frigates, the strongest and +swiftest that the island could furnish, and commanded by men whose +exploits had rung through the world. + +Farther along the coast, invisible, but known to be performing a most +perilous and vital service, was a squadron of Dutch vessels of all +sizes, lining both the inner and outer edges of the sandbanks off the +Flemish coasts, and swarming in all the estuaries and inlets of that +intricate and dangerous cruising-ground between Dunkirk and +Walcheren. Those fleets of Holland and Zeeland, numbering some one +hundred and fifty galleons, sloops, and fly-boats, under Warmond, +Nassau, Van der Does, De Moor, and Rosendael, lay patiently blockading +every possible egress from Newport, or Gravelines, or Sluys, or +Flushing, or Dunkirk; and longing to grapple with the Duke of Parma, +so soon as his fleet of gunboats and hoys, packed with his Spanish and +Italian veterans, should venture to set forth upon the sea for their +long-prepared exploit. + +It was a pompous spectacle that midsummer night upon those narrow +seas. The moon, which was at the full, was rising calmly upon a scene +of anxious expectation. Would she not be looking, by the morrow's +night, upon a subjugated England, a reenslaved Holland--upon the +downfall of civil and religious liberty? Those ships of Spain, which +lay there with their banners waving in the moonlight, discharging +salvos of anticipated triumph and filling the air with strains of +insolent music--would they not, by daybreak, be moving straight to +their purpose, bearing the conquerors of the world to the scene of +their cherished hopes? + +That English fleet, too, which rode there at anchor, so anxiously on +the watch--would that swarm of nimble, lightly handled, but slender +vessels, which had held their own hitherto in hurried and desultory +skirmishes, be able to cope with their great antagonist, now that the +moment had arrived for the death grapple? Would not Howard, Drake, +Frobisher, Seymour, Winter, and Hawkins be swept out of the straits at +last, yielding an open passage to Medina, Oquendo, Recalde, and +Farnese? Would those Hollanders and Zeelanders cruising so vigilantly +among their treacherous shallows dare to maintain their post now that +the terrible "Holoferness," with his invincible legions, was resolved +to come forth? + +And the impatience of the soldiers and sailors on board the fleet was +equal to that of their commanders. There was London almost before +their eyes--a huge mass of treasure, richer and more accessible than +those mines beyond the Atlantic which had so often rewarded Spanish +chivalry with fabulous wealth. And there were men in those galleons +who remembered the sack of Antwerp eleven years before; men who could +tell, from personal experience, how helpless was a great commercial +city when once in the clutch of disciplined brigands; men who in that +dread "fury of Antwerp" had enriched themselves in an hour with the +accumulations of a merchant's lifetime, and who had slain fathers and +mothers, sons and daughters, brides and bridegrooms, before each +other's eyes, until the number of inhabitants butchered in the blazing +streets rose to many thousands, and the plunder from palaces and +warehouses was counted by millions, before the sun had set on the +"great fury." Those Spaniards, and Italians, and Walloons were now +thirsting for more gold, for more blood; and as the capital of England +was even more wealthy and far more defenseless than the commercial +metropolis of the Netherlands had been, so it was resolved that the +London "fury" should be more thorough and more productive than the +"fury of Antwerp," at the memory of which the world still shuddered. +And these professional soldiers had been taught to consider the +English as a pacific, delicate, effeminate race; dependent on good +living, without experience of war, quickly fatigued and discouraged, +and even more easily to be plundered and butchered than were the +excellent burghers of Antwerp. + +And so these southern conquerors looked down from their great galleons +and galeasses upon the English vessels. More than three-quarters of +them were merchantmen. There was no comparison whatever between the +relative strength of the fleets. In number they were about equal, +being each from one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty +strong; but the Spaniards had twice the tonnage of the English, four +times the artillery, and nearly three times the number of men.... + +As the twilight deepened, the moon became totally obscured, dark cloud +masses spread over the heavens, the sea grew black, distant thunder +rolled, and the sob of an approaching tempest became distinctly +audible. Such indications of a westerly gale were not encouraging to +those cumbrous vessels, with the treacherous quicksands of Flanders +under their lee. + +At an hour past midnight it was so dark that it was difficult for the +most practised eye to pierce far into the gloom. But a faint drip of +oars now struck the ears of the Spaniards as they watched from the +decks. A few moments afterward the sea became suddenly luminous; and +six flaming vessels appeared at a slight distance, bearing steadily +down upon them before the wind and tide. + +There were men in the Armada who had been at the siege of Antwerp +only three years before. They remembered with horror the devil-ships +of Gianibelli--those floating volcanoes which had seemed to rend earth +and ocean, whose explosion had laid so many thousands of soldiers dead +at a blow, and which had shattered the bridge and floating forts of +Farnese as tho they had been toys of glass. They knew too that the +famous engineer was at that moment in England. + +In a moment one of those horrible panics which spread with such +contagious rapidity among large bodies of men, seized upon the +Spaniards. There was a yell throughout the fleet--"The fire-ships of +Antwerp! the fire-ships of Antwerp!" and in an instant every cable was +cut, and frantic attempts were made by each galleon and galeasse to +escape what seemed imminent destruction. The confusion was beyond +description. Four or five of the largest ships became entangled with +each other. Two others were set on fire by the flaming vessels and +were consumed. Medina Sidonia, who had been warned, even before his +departure from Spain, that some such artifice would probably be +attempted, and who had even, early that morning, sent out a party of +sailors in a pinnace to search for indications of the scheme, was not +surprized or dismayed. He gave orders--as well as might be--that every +ship, after the danger should be passed, was to return to its post and +await his further orders. But it was useless in that moment of +unreasonable panic to issue commands. The despised Mantuan, who had +met with so many rebuffs at Philip's court, and who--owing to official +incredulity--had been but partially successful in his magnificent +enterprise at Antwerp, had now, by the mere terror of his name, +inflicted more damage on Philip's Armada than had hitherto been +accomplished by Howard and Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher combined. + +So long as night and darkness lasted, the confusion and uproar +continued. When the Monday morning dawned, several of the Spanish +vessels lay disabled, while the rest of the fleet was seen at a +distance of two leagues from Calais, driving toward the Flemish coast. +The threatened gale had not yet begun to blow; but there were fresh +squalls from the W. S. W., which, to such awkward sailors as the +Spanish vessels, were difficult to contend with. On the other hand, +the English fleet were all astir, and ready to pursue the Spaniards, +now rapidly drifting into the North Sea. + + + + +III + +"THE SPANISH FURY"[28] + +(1576) + + +Meantime, while the short November day was fast declining, the combat +still raged in the interior of the city (Antwerp). Various currents of +conflict, forcing their separate way through many streets, had at last +mingled in the Grande Place. Around this irregular, not very spacious +square, stood the gorgeous Hotel de Ville, and the tall, many-storied, +fantastically gabled, richly decorated palaces of the guilds. Here a +long struggle took place. It was terminated for a time by the cavalry +of Vargas, who, arriving through the streets of Saint Joris, +accompanied by the traitor Van Ende, charged decisively into the +melee. The masses were broken, but multitudes of armed men found +refuge in the buildings, and every house became a fortress. From every +window and balcony a hot fire was poured into the square, as, pent in +a corner, the burghers stood at last at bay. It was difficult to carry +the houses by storm, but they were soon set on fire. A large number of +sutlers and other varlets had accompanied the Spaniards from the +citadel, bringing torches and kindling materials for the express +purpose of firing the town. With great dexterity, these means were now +applied, and in a brief interval the city hall and other edifices on +the square were in flames. The conflagration spread with rapidity, +house after house, street after street, taking fire. Nearly a thousand +buildings, in the most splendid and wealthy quarter of the city, were +soon in a blaze, and multitudes of human beings were burned with them. +In the city hall many were consumed, while others leapt from the +windows to renew the combat below. The many tortuous streets which led +down a slight descent from the rear of the town-house to the quays +were all one vast conflagration. On the other side, the magnificent +cathedral, separated from the Grande Place by a single row of +buildings, was lighted up, but not attacked by the flames. The tall +spire cast its gigantic shadow across the last desperate conflict. In +the street called the Canal au Sucre, immediately behind the +town-house, there was a fierce struggle, a horrible massacre. A crowd +of burghers, grave magistrates, and such of the German soldiers as +remained alive still confronted the ferocious Spaniards. There, amid +the flaming desolation, Goswyn Verreyck, the heroic margrave of the +city, fought with the energy of hatred and despair. The burgomaster +Van der Meere lay dead at his feet; senators, soldiers, citizens fell +fast around him, and he sank at last upon a heap of slain. With him +effectual resistance ended. The remaining combatants were butchered, +or were slowly forced downward to perish in the Scheld. Women, +children, old men were killed in countless numbers, and still, through +all this havoc, directly over the heads of the struggling throng, +suspended in mid-air above the din and smoke of the conflict, there +sounded, every half-quarter of every hour, as if in gentle mockery, +from the belfry of the cathedral, the tender and melodious chimes. + +[Footnote 28: From Part IV of Chapter V of "The Rise of the Dutch +Republic." Published by Harper & Brothers. The name "Spanish Fury" was +given to the sack of Antwerp by the Spaniards.] + +Never was there a more monstrous massacre, even in the blood-stained +history of the Netherlands. It was estimated that, in the course of +this and the two following days, not less than eight thousand human +beings were murdered. The Spaniards seemed to cast off even the vizard +of humanity. Hell seemed emptied of its fiends. Night fell upon the +scene before the soldiers were masters of the city; but worse horrors +began after the contest was ended. This army of brigands had come +thither with a definite, practical purpose, for it was not +blood-thirst, nor lust, nor revenge, which had impelled them, but it +was avarice, greediness for gold. For gold they had waded through all +this blood and fire. Never had men more simplicity of purpose, more +directness in its execution. They had conquered their India at last; +its golden mines lay all before them, and every sword should open a +shaft. Riot and rape might be deferred; even murder, tho congenial to +their taste, was only subsidiary to their business. They had come to +take possession of the city's wealth, and they set themselves +faithfully to accomplish their task. For gold, infants were dashed out +of existence in their mothers' arms; for gold, parents were tortured +in their children's presence; for gold, brides were scourged to death +before their husbands' eyes. Wherever treasure was suspected, every +expedient which ingenuity, sharpened by greediness, could suggest, was +employed to extort it from its possessors. The fire, spreading more +extensively and more rapidly than had been desired through the +wealthiest quarter of the city, had unfortunately devoured a vast +amount of property. Six millions, at least, had thus been swallowed; a +destruction by which no one had profited. There was, however, much +left. The strong boxes of the merchants, the gold, silver, and +precious jewelry, the velvets, satins, brocades, laces, and similar +well concentrated and portable plunder, were rapidly appropriated. So +far the course was plain and easy, but in private houses it was more +difficult. The cash, plate, and other valuables of individuals were +not so easily discovered. + +Torture was, therefore, at once employed to discover the hidden +treasures. After all had been given, if the sum seemed too little, the +proprietors were brutally punished for their poverty or their supposed +dissimulation. A gentlewoman, named Fabry, with her aged mother and +other females of the family, had taken refuge in the cellar of her +mansion. As the day was drawing to a close, a band of plunderers +entered, who, after ransacking the house, descended to the cellarage. +Finding the door barred, they forced it open with gunpowder. The +mother, who was nearest the entrance, fell dead on the threshold. +Stepping across her mangled body, the brigands sprang upon her +daughter, loudly demanding the property which they believed to be +concealed. They likewise insisted on being informed where the master +of the house had taken refuge. Protestations of ignorance as to hidden +treasure, or the whereabouts of her husband, who, for aught she knew, +was lying dead in the streets, were of no avail. To make her more +communicative, they hanged her on a beam in the cellar, and after a +few moments cut her down before life was extinct. Still receiving no +satisfactory reply, where a satisfactory reply was impossible, they +hanged her again. Again, after another brief interval, they gave her a +second release, and a fresh interrogatory. This barbarity they +repeated several times, till they were satisfied that there was +nothing to be gained by it, while, on the other hand, they were losing +much valuable time. Hoping to be more successful elsewhere, they left +her hanging for the last time, and trooped off to fresher fields. +Strange to relate, the person thus horribly tortured survived. A +servant in her family, married to a Spanish soldier, providentially +entered the house in time to rescue her perishing mistress. She was +restored to existence, but never to reason. Her brain was hopelessly +crazed, and she passed the remainder of her life wandering about her +house, or feebly digging in her garden for the buried treasure which +she had been thus fiercely solicited to reveal. + +A wedding-feast was rudely interrupted. Two young persons, neighbors +of opulent families, had been long betrothed, and the marriage-day had +been fixt for Sunday, the fatal 4th of November. The guests were +assembled, the ceremony concluded, and the nuptial banquet in +progress, when the horrible outcries in the streets proclaimed that +the Spaniards had broken loose. Hour after hour of trembling +expectation succeeded. At last, a thundering at the gate proclaimed +the arrival of a band of brigands. Preceded by their captain, a large +number of soldiers forced their way into the house, ransacking every +chamber, no opposition being offered by the family and friends, too +few and powerless to cope with this band of well-armed ruffians. Plate +chests, wardrobes, desks, caskets of jewelry were freely offered, +eagerly accepted, but not found sufficient, and to make the luckless +wretches furnish more than they possest, the usual brutalities were +employed. The soldiers began by striking the bridegroom dead. The +bride fell shrieking into her mother's arms, whence she was torn by +the murderers, who immediately put the mother to death, and an +indiscriminate massacre then followed the fruitless attempts to +obtain by threats and torture treasure which did not exist. The bride, +who was of remarkable beauty, was carried off to the citadel. Maddened +by this last outrage, the father, who was the only man of the party +left alive, rushed upon the Spaniards. Wresting a sword from one of +the crew, the old man dealt with it so fiercely that he stretched more +than one enemy dead at his feet, but it is needless to add that he was +soon dispatched. + +Meantime, while the party were concluding the plunder of the mansion, +the bride was left in a lonely apartment of the fortress. Without +wasting time in fruitless lamentation, she resolved to quit the life +which a few hours had made so desolate. She had almost succeeded in +hanging herself with a massive gold chain which she wore, when her +captor entered the apartment. Inflamed, not with lust, but with +avarice, excited not by her charms, but by her jewelry, he rescued her +from her perilous position. He then took possession of her chain and +the other trinkets with which her wedding-dress was adorned, and +caused her to be entirely stript of her clothing. She was then +scourged with rods till her beautiful body was bathed in blood, and at +last alone, naked, nearly mad, was sent back into the city. Here the +forlorn creature wandered up and down through the blazing streets, +among the heaps of dead and dying, till she was at last put out of her +misery by a gang of soldiers. + +Such are a few isolated instances, accidentally preserved in their +details, of the general horrors inflicted on this occasion. Others +innumerable have sunk into oblivion. On the morning of the 5th of +November Antwerp presented a ghastly sight. The magnificent marble +town-house, celebrated as a "world's wonder," even in that age and +country, in which so much splendor was lavished on municipal palaces, +stood a blackened ruin--all but the walls destroyed, while its +archives, accounts, and other valuable contents had perished. The more +splendid portion of the city had been consumed, at least five hundred +palaces, mostly of marble or hammered stone, being a smoldering mass +of destruction. The dead bodies of those fallen in the massacre were +on every side, in greatest profusion around the Place de Meer, among +the Gothic pillars of the Exchange, and in the streets near the +town-house. The German soldiers lay in their armor, some with their +heads burned from their bodies, some with legs and arms consumed by +the flames through which they had fought. The Margrave Goswyn +Verreyck, the burgomaster Van der Meere, the magistrates Lancelot Van +Urselen, Nicholas Van Boekholt, and other leading citizens lay among +piles of less distinguished slain. They remained unburied until the +overseers of the poor, on whom the living had then more importunate +claims than the dead, were compelled by Roda to bury them out of the +pauper fund. The murderers were too thrifty to be at funeral charges +for their victims. The ceremony was not hastily performed, for the +number of corpses had not been completed. Two days longer the havoc +lasted in the city. Of all the crimes which men can commit, whether +from deliberate calculation or in the frenzy of passion, hardly one +was omitted, for riot, gaming, rape, which had been postponed to the +more stringent claims of robbery and murder, were now rapidly added to +the sum of atrocities. History has recorded the account indelibly on +her brazen tablets; it can be adjusted only at the judgment-seat +above. + +Of all the deeds of darkness yet compassed in the Netherlands this was +the worst. It was called The Spanish Fury, by which dread name it has +been known for ages. The city, which had been a world of wealth and +splendor, was changed to a charnel-house, and from that hour its +commercial prosperity was blasted. Other causes had silently girdled +the yet green and flourishing tree, but the Spanish Fury was the fire +which consumed it to ashes. Three thousand dead bodies were discovered +in the streets, as many more were estimated to have perished in the +Scheld, and nearly an equal number were burned or destroyed in other +ways. Eight thousand persons undoubtedly were put to death. Six +millions of property were destroyed by the fire, and at least as much +more was obtained by the Spaniards. + + + + +RICHARD HENRY DANA THE YOUNGER + + Born in Cambridge, Mass., in 1815; died in 1882; being in + ill health, shipped before the mast in 1834, making a voyage + to the Pacific, described in his book "Two Years Before the + Mast," published in 1840; one of the founders of the Free + Soil party in 1848; edited Wheaton's "Elements of + International Law," published in 1866. + + + + +A FIERCE GALE UNDER A CLEAR SKY[29] + + +We had been below but a short time before we had the usual +premonitions of a coming gale--seas washing over the whole forward +part of the vessel, and her bows beating against them with a force and +sound like the driving of piles. The watch, too, seemed very busy +trampling about decks and singing out at the ropes. A sailor can tell +by the sound what sail is coming in; and in a short time we heard the +top-gallant-sails come in, one after another, and then the flying jib. +This seemed to ease her a good deal, and we were fast going off to the +land of Nod, when--bang, bang, bang on the scuttle, and "All hands, +reef topsails, ahoy!" started us out of our berths, and it not being +very cold weather, we had nothing extra to put on, and were soon on +deck. + +[Footnote 29: From "Two Years Before the Mast."] + +I shall never forget the fineness of the sight. It was a clear and +rather a chilly night; the stars were twinkling with an intense +brightness, and as far as the eye could reach there was not a cloud +to be seen. The horizon met the sea in a defined line. A painter could +not have painted so clear a sky. There was not a speck upon it. Yet it +was blowing great guns from the northwest. When you can see a cloud to +windward, you feel that there is a place for the wind to come from; +but here it seemed to come from nowhere. No person could have told +from the heavens, by their eyesight alone, that it was not a still +summer's night. One reef after another we took in the topsails, and +before we could get them hoisted up we heard a sound like a short +quick rattling of thunder, and the jib was blown to atoms out of the +bolt-rope. We got the topsails set, and the fragments of the jib +stowed away, and the foretopmast staysail set in its place, when the +great mainsail gaped open, and the sail ripped from head to foot. "Lay +up on that main yard and furl the sail, before it blows to tatters!" +shouted the captain; and in a moment we were up, gathering the remains +of it upon the yard. We got it wrapt round the yard, and passed +gaskets over it as snugly as possible, and were just on deck again, +when with another loud rent, which was heard throughout the ship, the +foretopsail, which had been double-reefed, split in two athwartships, +just below the reef-band, from earing to earing. Here again it +was--down yard, haul out reef-tackles, and lay out upon the yard for +reefing. By hauling the reef-tackles chock-a-block we took the strain +from the other earings, and passing the close-reef earing, and +knotting the points carefully, we succeeded in setting the sail, close +reefed. + +We had but just got the rigging coiled up, and were waiting to hear +"Go below the watch!" when the main royal worked loose from the +gaskets, and blew directly out to leeward, flapping and shaking the +mast like a wand. Here was a job for somebody. The royal must come in +or be cut adrift, or the mast would be snapt short off. All the light +hands in the starboard watch were sent up one after another, but they +could do nothing with it. At length John, the tall Frenchman, the head +of the starboard watch (and a better sailor never stept upon a deck), +sprang aloft, and by the help of his long arms and legs succeeded +after a hard struggle--the sail blowing over the yard-arm to leeward, +and the skysail adrift directly over his head--in smothering it and +frapping it with long pieces of sinnet. He came very near being blown +or shaken from the yard several times, but he was a true sailor, every +finger a fish-hook. Having made the sail snug, he prepared to send the +yard down, which was a long and difficult job; for frequently he was +obliged to stop and hold on with all his might for several minutes, +the ship pitching so as to make it impossible to do anything else at +that height. The yard at length came down safe, and after it the fore +and mizzen royal yards were sent down. All hands were then sent aloft, +and for an hour or two we were hard at work, making the booms well +fast, unreefing the studding sail and royal and skysail gear, getting +rolling-ropes on the yard, setting up the weather breast-backstays, +and making other preparations for a storm. It was a fine night for a +gale, just cool and bracing enough for quick work, without being +cold, and as bright as day. It was sport to have a gale in such +weather as this. Yet it blew like a hurricane. The wind seemed to come +with a spite, an edge to it, which threatened to scrape us off the +yards. The force of the wind was greater than I had ever felt it +before; but darkness, cold, and wet are the worst parts of a storm to +a sailor. + +Having got on deck again, we looked round to see what time of night it +was, and whose watch. In a few minutes the man at the wheel struck +four bells, and we found that the other watch was out and our own half +out. Accordingly, the starboard watch went below, and left the ship to +us for a couple of hours, yet with orders to stand by for a call. + +Hardly had they got below before away went the foretopmast staysail, +blown to ribbons. This was a small sail, which we could manage in the +watch, so that we were not obliged to call up the other watch. We laid +upon the bowsprit, where we were under water half the time, and took +in the fragments of the sail; and as she must have some headsail on +her, prepared to bend another staysail. We got the new one out into +the nettings; seized on the tack, sheets, and halyards, and the hanks; +manned the halyards, cut adrift the frapping-lines, and hoisted away; +but before it was half-way up the stay it was blown all to pieces. +When we belayed the halyards, there was nothing left but the +bolt-rope. Now large eyes began to show themselves in the foresail; +and knowing that it must soon go, the mate ordered us upon the yard to +furl it. Being unwilling to call up the watch, who had been on deck +all night, he roused out the carpenter, sailmaker, cook, and steward, +and with their help we manned the foreyard, and after nearly half an +hour's struggle, mastered the sail and got it well furled round the +yard. + +The force of the wind had never been greater than at this moment. In +going up the rigging it seemed absolutely to pin us down to the +shrouds; and on the yard there was no such thing as turning a face to +windward. Yet there was no driving sleet and darkness and wet and cold +as off Cape Horn; and instead of stiff oilcloth suits, southwester +caps, and thick boots, we had on hats, round jackets, duck trousers, +light shoes, and everything light and easy. These things make a great +difference to a sailor. When we got on deck the man at the wheel +struck eight bells (four o'clock in the morning), and "All +starbowlines, ahoy!" brought the other watch up, but there was no +going below for us. The gale was now at its height, "blowing like +scissors and thumb-screws"; the captain was on deck; the ship, which +was light, rolling and pitching as tho she would shake the long sticks +out of her, and the sails were gaping open and splitting in every +direction. The mizzen-topsail, which was a comparatively new sail and +close reefed, split from head to foot in the bunt; the foretopsail +went in one rent from clew to earing, and was blowing to tatters; one +of the chain bobstays parted; the spritsailyard sprung in the slings, +the martingale had slued away off to leeward; and owing to the long +dry weather the lee rigging hung in large bights at every lurch. One +of the main-topgallant shrouds had parted; and to crown all, the +galley had got adrift and gone over to leeward, and the anchor on the +lee bow had worked loose and was thumping the side. Here was work +enough for all hands for half a day. Our gang laid out on the +mizzen-top-sailyard, and after more than half an hour's hard work +furled the sail, tho it bellied out over our heads, and again, by a +slat of the wind, blew in under the yard with a fearful jerk and +almost threw us off from the foot-ropes.... + +It was now eleven o'clock, and the watch was sent below to get +breakfast, and at eight bells (noon), as everything was snug, altho +the gale had not in the least abated, the watch was set and the other +watch and idlers sent below. For three days and three nights the gale +continued with unabated fury, and with singular regularity. There were +no lulls, and very little variation in its fierceness. Our ship, being +light, rolled so as almost to send the fore yard-arm under water, and +drifted off bodily to leeward. All this time there was not a cloud to +be seen in the sky, day or night; no, not so large as a man's hand. +Every morning the sun rose cloudless from the sea, and set again at +night in the sea in a flood of light. The stars, too, came out of the +blue one after another, night after night, unobscured, and twinkled as +clear as on a still frosty night at home, until the day came upon +them. All this time the sea was rolling in immense surges, white with +foam, as far as the eye could reach, on every side; for we were now +leagues and leagues from shore. + + + + +HENRY DAVID THOREAU + + Born in Concord, Mass., in 1817; died in 1862; graduated + from Harvard in 1837; taught school; practised surveying; + lived alone at Walden Pond in 1845-47; a friend of Emerson + and Alcott; imprisoned for refusal to pay a tax he believed + to be unjust; published "A Week on the Concord and Merrimac + Rivers" in 1849, and "Walden" in 1854; "Excursions" + published after his death, with a memoir, by Emerson, "The + Maine Woods" in 1864, "Cape Cod" in 1865; his "Journals" and + other works also published after his death. + + + + +I + +THE BUILDING OF HIS HOUSE AT WALDEN POND[30] + + +When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived +alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had +built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, +and earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two +years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life +again.... + +[Footnote 30: From Chapter I of "Walden, or Life in the Woods."] + +Near the end of March, 1845, I borrowed an ax and went down to the +woods by Walden Pond, nearest to where I intended to build my house, +and began to cut down some tall arrowy white pines, still in their +youth, for timber. It is difficult to begin without borrowing, but +perhaps it is the most generous course thus to permit your fellow men +to have an interest in your enterprise. The owner of the ax, as he +released his hold on it, said that it was the apple of his eye; but I +returned it sharper than I received it. It was a pleasant hillside +where I worked, covered with pine woods, through which I looked out on +the pond, and a small open field in the woods where pines and +hickories were springing up. The ice in the pond was not yet +dissolved, tho there were some open spaces, and it was all dark +colored and saturated with water. There were some slight flurries of +snow during the days that I worked there; but for the most part when I +came out on to the railroad, on my way home, its yellow sand heap +stretched away gleaming in the hazy atmosphere, and the rails shone in +the spring sun, and I heard the lark and pewee and other birds already +come to commence another year with us.... + +I hewed the main timbers six inches square, most of the studs on two +sides only, and the rafters and floor timbers on one side, leaving the +rest of the bark on, so that they were just as straight and much +stronger than sawed ones. Each stick was carefully mortised or tenoned +by its stump, for I had borrowed other tools by this time. My days in +the woods were not very long ones; yet I usually carried my dinner of +bread and butter, and read the newspaper in which it was wrapt, at +noon, sitting amid the green pine boughs which I had cut off, and to +my bread was imparted some of their fragrance, for my hands were +covered with a thick coat of pitch. Before I had done I was more the +friend than the foe of the pine-tree, tho I had cut down some of them, +having become better acquainted with it. Sometimes a rambler in the +wood was attracted by the sound of my ax, and we chatted pleasantly +over the chips which I had made.... + +I dug my cellar in the side of a hill sloping to the south, where a +woodchuck had formerly dug his burrow, down through sumac and +blackberry roots, and the lowest stain of vegetation, six feet square +by seven deep, to a fine sand where potatoes would not freeze in any +winter. The sides were left shelving, and not stoned; but the sun +having never shone on them, the sand still keeps its place. It was but +two hours' work. I took particular pleasure in this breaking of +ground, for in almost all latitudes men dig into the earth for an +equable temperature. Under the most splendid house in the city is +still to be found the cellar where they store their roots as of old, +and long after the superstructure has disappeared posterity will +remark its dent in the earth. The house is still but a sort of porch +at the entrance of a burrow. + +At length, in the beginning of May, with the help of some of my +acquaintances, rather to improve so good an occasion for +neighborliness than from any necessity, I set up the frame of my +house. No man was ever more honored in the character of his raisers +than I. They are destined, I trust, to assist at the raising of +loftier structures one day. I began to occupy my house on the 4th of +July, as soon as it was boarded and roofed, for the boards were +carefully feather-edged and lapped, so that it was perfectly +impervious to rain; but before boarding I laid the foundation of a +chimney at one end, bringing two cartloads of stones up the hill from +the pond in my arms. I built the chimney after my hoeing in the fall, +before a fire became necessary for warmth, doing my cooking in the +meanwhile out-of-doors, on the ground, early in the morning; which +mode I still think is in some respects more convenient and agreeable +than the usual one. When it stormed before my bread was baked, I fixt +a few boards over the fire, and sat under them to watch my loaf, and +passed some pleasant hours in that way. In those days, when my hands +were much employed, I read but little, but the least scraps of paper +which lay on the ground, my holder, or tablecloth, afforded me as much +entertainment, in fact, answered the same purpose as the Iliad. + +Before winter I built a chimney, and shingled the sides of my house, +which were already impervious to rain, with imperfect and sappy +shingles made of the first slice of the log, which edges I was obliged +to straighten with a plane. + +I have thus a tight shingled and plastered house, ten feet wide by +fifteen long, and eight-feet posts, with a garret and a closet, a +large window on each side, two trap doors, one door at the end, and a +brick fireplace opposite. The exact cost of my house, paying the usual +price for such materials as I used, but not counting the work, all of +which was done by myself, was as follows; and I give the details +because very few are able to tell exactly what their houses cost, and +fewer still, if any, the separate cost of the various materials which +compose them: + +Boards $ 8.03-1/2 +Refuse shingles for roof and sides 4.00 +Laths 1.25 +Two second-hand windows with glass 2.43 +One thousand old brick 4.00 +Two casks of lime (That was high) 2.40 +Hair (More than I needed) 0.31 +Mantle-tree iron 0.15 +Nails 3.90 +Hinges and screws 0.14 +Latch 0.10 +Chalk 0.01 +Transportation (I carried a good part +on my back) 1.40 + ---------- +In all $28.12-1/2 + +These are all the materials excepting the timber, stones, and sand, +which I claimed by squatter's right. I have also a small woodshed +adjoining, made chiefly of the stuff which was left after building the +house. + + + + +II + +HOW TO MAKE TWO SMALL ENDS MEET[31] + + +Before I finished my house, wishing to earn ten or twelve dollars by +some honest and agreeable method, in order to meet my unusual +expenses, I planted about two acres and a half of light and sandy soil +near it chiefly with beans, but also a small part with potatoes, +corn, peas, and turnips. The whole lot contains eleven acres, mostly +growing up to pines and hickories, and was sold the preceding season +for eight dollars and eight cents an acre. One farmer said that it was +"good for nothing but to raise cheeping squirrels on." I put no manure +whatever on this land, not being the owner, but merely a squatter, and +not expecting to cultivate so much again, and I did not quite hoe it +all once. I got out several cords of stumps in plowing, which supplied +me with fuel for a long time, and left small circles of virgin mold, +easily distinguishable through the summer by the greater luxuriance of +the beans there. The dead and for the most part unmerchantable wood +behind my house, and the driftwood from the pond, have supplied the +remainder of my fuel. I was obliged to hire a team and a man for the +plowing, tho I held the plow myself. My farm outgoes for the first +season were, for implements, seed, work, etc., $14.72-1/2. The seed +corn was given me. This never costs anything to speak of, unless you +plant more than enough. I got twelve bushels of beans, and eighteen +bushels of potatoes, besides some peas and sweet corn. The yellow corn +and turnips were too late to come to anything. My whole income from +the farm was + + $23.44 +Deducting the outgoes 14.72-1/2 + -------------- +There are left $ 8.71-1/2 + +besides produce consumed and on hand at the time this estimate was +made of the value of $4.50--the amount on hand much more than +balancing a little grass which I did not raise. All things considered, +that is considering the importance of a man's soul and of to-day, +notwithstanding the short time occupied by my experiment, nay, partly +even because of its transient character I believe that that was doing +better than any farmer in Concord did that year. + +[Footnote 31: From Chapters I and II of "Walden."] + +The next year I did better still, for I spaded up all the land which I +required, about a third of an acre, and I learned from the experience +of both years, not being in the least awed by many celebrated works on +husbandry, Arthur Young among the rest, that if one would live simply +and eat only the crop which he raised, and raise no more than he ate, +and not exchange it for an insufficient quantity of more luxurious and +expensive things, he would need to cultivate only a few rods of +ground, and that it would be cheaper to spade up that than to use oxen +to plow it, and to select a fresh spot from time to time than to +manure the old, and he could do all his necessary farm work as it were +with his left hand at odd hours in the summer; and thus he would not +be tied to an ox, or horse, or cow, or pig, as at present. I desire to +speak impartially on this point, and as one not interested in the +success or failure of the present economical and social arrangements. +I was more independent than any farmer in Concord, for I was not +anchored to a house or farm, but could follow the bent of my genius, +which is a very crooked one, every moment. Besides being better off +than they already, if my house had been burned or my crops had failed, +I should have been nearly as well off as before.... + +By surveying, carpentry, and day-labor of various other kinds in the +village in the meanwhile, for I have as many trades as fingers, I had +earned $13.34. The expense of food for eight months, namely, from July +4th to March 1st, the time when these estimates were made, tho I lived +there more than two years--not counting potatoes, a little green corn, +and some peas, which I had raised, nor considering the value of what +was on hand at the last date, was + +Rice $1.73-1/2} +Molasses (Cheapest form } + of the saccharine) 1.73 } +Rye meal 1.04-3/4} +Indian meal (Cheaper } + than rye) 0.99-3/4} +Pork 0.22 } +Flour (Costs more than } All Experiments + Indian meal, both } which had failed + money and trouble) 0.88 } +Sugar 0.80 } +Lard 0.65 } +Apples 0.25 } +Dried apple 0.22 } +Sweet potatoes 0.10 } +One pumpkin 0.06 } +One watermelon 0.02 } +Salt 0.03 } + +Yes, I did eat $8.74, all told; but I should not thus unblushingly +publish my guilt, if I did not know that most of my readers were +equally guilty with myself, and that their deeds would look no better +in print. The next year I sometimes caught a mess of fish for my +dinner, and once I went so far as to slaughter a woodchuck which +ravaged my beanfield--effect his transmigration, as a Tartar would +say--and devour him, partly for experiment's sake; but tho it +afforded me a momentary enjoyment, notwithstanding a musky flavor, I +saw that the longest use would not make that a good practise, however +it might seem to have your woodchucks ready drest by the village +butcher. + +Clothing and some incidental expenses within the same date, tho little +can be inferred from this item, amounted to + + $8.40-3/4 +Oil and some household utensils 2.00 + +So that all the pecuniary outgoes, excepting for washing and mending, +which for the most part were done out of the house, and their bills +have not yet been received--and these are all and more than all the +ways by which money necessarily goes out in this part of the +world--were + +House $28.12-1/2 +Farm, one year 14.72-1/2 +Food, eight months 8.74 +Clothing, etc., eight months 8.40-3/4 +Oil, etc., eight months 2.00 + ------- + In all $61.99-3/4 + +I address myself now to those of my readers who have a living to get. +And to meet this I have for farm produce sold + + $23.44 +Earned by day-labor 13.34 + ------ + In all $36.78 + +which subtracted from the sum of the outgoes leaves a balance of +$25.21-3/4 on the one side, this being very nearly the means with which I +started, and the measure of expenses to be incurred--and on the +other, besides the leisure and independence and health thus secured, a +comfortable house for me as long as I choose to occupy it. + +These statistics, however accidental and therefore uninstructive they +may appear, as they have a certain completeness, have a certain value +also. Nothing was given me of which I have not rendered some account. +It appears from the above estimate that my food alone cost me in money +about twenty-seven cents a week. It was, for nearly two years after +this, rye and Indian meal without yeast, potatoes, rice, a very little +salt pork, molasses, and salt, and my drink water. It was fit that I +should live on rice, mainly, who loved so well the philosophy of +India. To meet the objections of some inveterate cavillers, I may as +well state that if I dined out occasionally, as I always had done, and +I trust shall have opportunities to do again, it was frequently to the +detriment of my domestic arrangements. But the dining out, being, as I +have stated, a constant element, does not in the least affect a +comparative statement like this. + +I learned from my two years' experience that it would cost incredibly +little trouble to obtain one's necessary food, even in this latitude; +that a man may use as simple a diet as the animals, and yet retain +health and strength. I have made a satisfactory dinner, satisfactory +on several accounts, simply off a dish of purslane (_Portulaca +Oleracea_) which I gathered in my cornfield, boiled and salted. I give +the Latin on account of the savoriness of the trivial name. And pray +what more can a reasonable man desire, in peaceful times, in ordinary +noons, than sufficient number of ears of green sweet-corn boiled, +with the addition of salt? Even the little variety which I used was a +yielding to the demands of appetite, and not of health. Yet men have +come to such a pass that they frequently starve, not for want of +necessaries, but for want of luxuries; and I know a good woman who +thinks that her son lost his life because he took to drinking water +only. + +The reader will perceive that I am treating the subject rather from an +economic than a dietetic point of view, and he will not venture to put +my abstemiousness to the test unless he has a well-stocked larder. + +Bread I at first made of pure Indian meal and salt, genuine hoe-cakes, +which I baked before my fire out of doors on a shingle or the end of a +stick of timber sawed off in building my house; but it was wont to get +smoked and to have a piny flavor. I tried flour also; but have at last +found a mixture of rye and Indian meal most convenient and agreeable. +In cold weather it was no little amusement to bake several small +loaves of this in succession, tending and turning them as carefully as +an Egyptian his hatching eggs. They were a real cereal fruit which I +ripened, and they had to my senses a fragrance like that of other +noble fruits, which I kept in as long as possible by wrapping them in +cloths. I made a study of the ancient and indispensable art of +bread-making, consulting such authorities as offered, going back to +the primitive days and first invention of the unleavened kind, when +from the wildness of nuts and meats men first reached the mildness and +refinement of this diet, and traveling gradually down in my studies +through that accidental souring of the dough, which, it is supposed, +taught the leavening process, and through the various fermentations +thereafter, till I came to "good, sweet, wholesome bread," the staff +of life. + +For more than five years I maintained myself thus solely by the labor +of my hands, and I found that by working about six weeks in a year, I +could meet all the expenses of living. The whole of my winters, as +well as most of my summers, I had free and clear for study. I have +thoroughly tried school-keeping, and found that my expenses were in +proportion, or rather out of proportion, to my income, for I was +obliged to dress and train, not to say think and believe, accordingly, +and I lost my time into the bargain. As I did not teach for the good +of my fellow men, but simply for a livelihood, this was a failure. I +have tried trade; but I found that it would take ten years to get +under way in that, and that then I should probably be on my way to the +devil. I was actually afraid that I might by that time be doing what +is called a good business. When formerly I was looking about to see +what I could do for a living, some sad experience in conforming to the +wishes of friends being fresh in my mind to tax my ingenuity, I +thought often and seriously of picking huckleberries; that surely I +could do, and its small profits might suffice--for my greatest skill +has been to want but little--so little capital it required, so little +distraction from my wonted moods, I foolishly thought. While my +acquaintances went unhesitatingly into trade or the professions, I +contemplated this occupation as most like theirs; ranging the hills +all summer to pick the berries which came in my way, and thereafter +carelessly dispose of them; so to keep the flocks of Admetus. I also +dreamed that I might gather the wild herbs, or carry evergreens to +such villagers as loved to be reminded of the woods, even to the city, +by hay-cart loads. But I have since learned that trade curses +everything it handles; and tho you trade in messages from heaven, the +whole curse of trade attaches to the business.... + +In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to +maintain one's self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if +we will live simply and wisely; as the pursuits of the simpler nations +are still the sports of the more artificial. It is not necessary that +a man should earn his living by the sweat of his brow, unless he +sweats easier than I do.... + +The only house I had been the owner of before, if I except a boat, was +a tent, which I used occasionally when making excursions in the +summer, and this is still rolled up in my garret; but the boat, after +passing from hand to hand, has gone down the stream of time. With this +more substantial shelter about me, I had made some progress toward +settling in the world. This frame, so slightly clad, was a sort of +crystallization around me, and reacted on the builder. It was +suggestive as a picture in outlines. I did not need to go outdoors to +take the air, for the atmosphere within had lost none of its +freshness. It was not so much within doors as behind a door where I +sat, even in the rainiest weather. The Harivansa says, "An +abode-without birds is like a meat without seasoning." Such was not my +abode, for I found myself suddenly neighbor to the birds; not by +having imprisoned one, but having caged myself near them. I was not +only nearer to some of those which commonly frequent the garden and +the orchard, but to those wilder and more thrilling songsters of the +forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager, the wood-thrush, +the veery, the scarlet tanager, the field-sparrow, the whippoorwill, +and many others. + +I was seated by the shore of a small pond, about a mile and a half +south of the village of Concord, and somewhat higher than it, in the +midst of an extensive wood between that town and Lincoln, and about +two miles south of that our only field known to fame, Concord battle +ground; but I was so low in the woods that the opposite shore, half a +mile off, like the rest covered with wood, was my most distant +horizon. For the first week, whenever I looked out on the pond it +imprest me like a tarn high up on the side of a mountain, its bottom +far above the surface of other lakes, and, as the sun arose, I saw it +throwing off its mighty clothing of mist, and here and there, by +degrees, its soft ripples or its smooth reflecting surface were +revealed, while the mists, like ghosts, were stealthily withdrawing in +every direction into the woods, as at the breaking up of some +nocturnal conventicle. The very dew seemed to hang upon the trees +later into the day than usual, as on the sides of mountains. + +I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front +only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what +it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not +lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; +nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. +I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so +sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to +cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and +reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, then to +get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to +the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be +able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, +it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is +of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is +the chief end of man here to "glorify God and enjoy Him forever." + +Still we live meanly, like ants; tho the fable tells us that we were +long ago changed into men; like pygmies we fight with cranes; it is +error upon error, and clout upon clout, and our best virtue has for +its occasion a superfluous and evitable wretchedness. Our life is +frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more +than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and +lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your +affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead +of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb +nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are +the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand and one items to be +allowed for that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to +the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he +must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. +Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary, eat but one; instead +of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion. + +Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off +the track by every nutshell and mosquito's wing that falls on the +rails. Let us rise early and fast, or break fast, gently and without +perturbation; let company come and let company go, let the bells ring +and the children cry--determined to make a day of it. Why should we +knock under and go with the stream? Let us not be upset and +overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a dinner, +situated in the meridian shallows. Weather this danger and you are +safe, for the rest of the way is down hill. With unrelaxed nerves, +with morning vigor, sail by it, looking another way, tied to the mast +like Ulysses. If the engine whistles, let it whistle till it is hoarse +for its pains. If the bell rings, why should we run? We will consider +what kind of music they are like. + + + + +III + +ON READING THE ANCIENT CLASSICS[32] + + +The student may read Homer or AEschylus in the Greek without danger of +dissipation or luxuriousness, for it implies that he in some measure +emulates their heroes, and consecrates morning hours to their pages. +The heroic books, even if printed in the character of our mother +tongue, will always be in a language dead to degenerate times; and we +must laboriously seek the meaning of each word and line, conjecturing +a larger sense than common use permits out of that wisdom and valor +and generosity we have. The modern cheap and fertile press, with all +its translations, has done little to bring us nearer to the heroic +writers of antiquity. They seem as solitary, and the letter in which +they are printed as rare and curious as ever. It is worth the expense +of youthful days and costly hours, if you learn only some words of an +ancient language, which are raised out of the trivialness of the +street, to be perpetual suggestions and provocation. It is not in vain +that the farmer remembers and repeats the few Latin words which he has +heard. Men sometimes speak as if the study of the classics would at +length make way for more modern and practical studies; but the +adventurous student will always study classics, in whatever language +they may be written and however ancient they may be. For what are the +classics but the noblest recorded thoughts of man? They are the only +oracles which are not decayed, and there are such answers to the most +modern inquiry in them as Delphi and Dodona never gave. We might as +well omit to study Nature because she is old. + +[Footnote 32: From Chapter III of "Walden."] + +To read well, that is, to read true books in a true spirit, is a noble +exercise, and one that will tax the reader more than any exercise +which the customs of the day esteem. It requires a training such as +the athletes underwent, the steady intention almost of the whole life +to this object. Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as +they were written. It is not enough even to be able to speak the +language of that nation by which they are written, for there is a +memorable interval between the spoken and the written language, the +language heard and the language read. The one is commonly transitory, +a sound, a tongue, a dialect merely, almost brutish, and we learn it +unconsciously, like the brutes, of our mothers. The other is the +maturity and experience of that; if that is our mother tongue, this is +our father tongue, a reserved and select expression, too significant +to be heard by the ear, which we must be born again in order to speak. +The crowds of men who merely spoke the Greek and Latin tongues in the +Middle Ages were not entitled by the accident of birth to read the +works of genius written in those languages; for these were not written +in that Greek or Latin which they knew, but in the select language of +literature. They had not learned the nobler dialects of Greece and +Rome, but the very materials on which they were written were waste +paper to them, and they prized instead a cheap contemporary +literature. But when the several nations of Europe had acquired +distinct tho rude written languages of their own, sufficient for the +purposes of their rising literatures, then first learning revived, and +scholars were enabled to discern from that remoteness the treasures of +antiquity. What the Roman and Grecian multitude could not hear, after +the lapse of ages a few scholars read, and a few scholars only are +still reading it. + +However much we may admire the orator's occasional bursts of +eloquence, the noblest written words are commonly as far behind or +above the fleeting spoken language as the firmament with its stars is +behind the clouds. There are the stars, and they who can may read +them. The astronomers forever comment on and observe them. They are +not exhalations like our daily colloquies and vaporous breath. What is +called eloquence in the forum is commonly found to be rhetoric in the +study. The orator yields to the inspiration of a transient occasion, +and speaks to the mob before him, to those who can hear him; but the +writer, whose more equable life is his occasion, and who would be +distracted by the event and the crowd which inspire the orator, speaks +to the intellect and heart of mankind, to all in any age who can +understand him. + +No wonder that Alexander carried the Iliad with him on his expeditions +in a precious casket. A written word is the choicest of relics. It is +something at once more intimate with us and more universal than any +other work of art. It is the work of art nearest to life itself. It +may be translated into every language, and not only be read but +actually breathed from all human lips; not be represented on canvas or +in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself. The +symbol of an ancient man's thought becomes a modern man's speech. Two +thousand summers have imparted to the monuments of Grecian literature, +as to her marbles, only a maturer golden and autumnal tint, for they +have carried their own serene and celestial atmosphere into all lands +to protect them against the corrosion of time. Books are the treasured +wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and +nations. Books, the oldest and the best, stand naturally and +rightfully on the shelves of every cottage. They have no cause of +their own to plead, but while they enlighten and sustain the reader +his common sense will not refuse them. Their authors are a natural and +irresistible aristocracy in every society, and, more than kings or +emperors, exert an influence on mankind. When the illiterate and +perhaps scornful trader has earned by enterprise and industry his +coveted leisure and independence, and is admitted to the circles of +wealth and fashion, he turns inevitably at last to those still higher +but yet inaccessible circles of intellect and genius, and is sensible +only of the imperfection of his culture, and the vanity and +insufficiency of all his riches, and further proves his good sense by +the pains which he takes to secure for his children that intellectual +culture whose want he so keenly feels; and thus it is that he becomes +the founder of a family. + +Those who have not learned to read the ancient classics in the +language in which they were written must have a very imperfect +knowledge of the history of the human race; for it is remarkable that +no transcript of them has ever been made into any modern tongue, +unless our civilization itself may be regarded as such a transcript. +Homer has never yet been printed in English, nor AEschylus, nor Virgil +even--works as refined, as solidly done, and as beautiful almost as +the morning itself; for later writers, say what we will of their +genius, have rarely, if ever, equaled the elaborate beauty and finish +and the lifelong and heroic literary labors of the ancients. They only +talk of forgetting them who never knew them. It will be soon enough to +forget them when we have the learning and the genius which will enable +us to attend to and appreciate them. That age will be rich, indeed, +when those relics which we call classics, and the still older and more +than classic but even less known scriptures of the nations, shall have +still further accumulated, when the Vaticans shall be filled with +Vedas and Zendavestas and Bibles, with Homers and Dantes and +Shakespeares, and all the centuries to come shall have successively +deposited their trophies in the forum of the world. By such a pile we +may hope to scale heaven at last. + + + + +IV + +OF SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE[33] + + +When I return to my house I find that visitors have been there and +left their cards, either a bunch of flowers, or a wreath of evergreen, +or a name in pencil on a yellow walnut leaf or a chip. They who come +rarely to the woods take some little piece of the forest into their +hands to play with by the way, which they leave, either intentionally +or accidentally. One has peeled a willow wand, woven it into a ring, +and dropt it on my table. I could always tell if visitors had called +in my absence, either by the bended twigs or grass, or the print of +their shoes, and generally of what sex or age or quality they were by +some slight trace left, as a flower dropt, or a bunch of grass plucked +and thrown away, even as far off as the railroad, half a mile distant, +or by the lingering odor of a cigar or pipe. Nay, I was frequently +notified of the passage of a traveler along the highway sixty rods off +by the scent of his pipe.... + +[Footnote 33: From Chapter IV of "Walden."] + +I have never felt lonesome, or in the least opprest by a sense of +solitude but once, and that was a few weeks after I came to the woods, +when, for an hour, I doubted if the near neighborhood of man was not +essential to a serene and healthy life. To be alone was something +unpleasant. But I was at the same time conscious of a slight insanity +in my mood, and seemed to foresee my recovery. In the midst of a +gentle rain while these thoughts prevailed, I was suddenly sensible of +such sweet and beneficent society in nature, in the very pattering of +the drops and in every sound and sight around my house, an infinite +and unaccountable friendliness all at once like an atmosphere +sustaining me, as made the fancied advantages of human neighborhood +significant, and I have never thought of them since. Every little pine +needle expanded and swelled with sympathy and befriended me. I was so +distinctly made aware of the presence of something kindred to me, even +in scenes which we are accustomed to call wild and dreary, and also +that the nearest of blood to me and humanest was not a person, nor a +villager, that I thought no place could ever be strange to me +again.... + +I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in +company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love +to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as +solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among +men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is +always alone, let him be where he will. Solitude is not measured by +the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows. The +really diligent student in one of the crowded hives of Cambridge +College is as solitary as a dervish in the desert. The farmer can work +alone in the field all day, hoeing or chopping, and not feel lonesome, +because he is employed; but when he comes home at night he can not sit +down in a room alone, at the mercy of his thoughts, but must be where +he can "see the folks," and recreate, and, as he thinks, remunerate +himself for his day's solitude; and hence he wonders how the student +can sit alone in the house all night and most of the day without ennui +and "the blues"; but he does not realize that the student, tho in the +house, is still at work in his field, and chopping in his woods, as +the farmer in his, and in turn seeks the same recreation and society +that the latter does, tho it may be a more condensed form of it. + +Society is commonly too cheap. We meet at very short intervals, not +having had time to acquire any new value for each other. We meet at +meals three times a day, and give each other a new taste of that old +musty cheese that we are. We have to agree on a certain set of rules, +called etiquette and politeness, to make this frequent meeting +tolerable and that we need not come to open war. We meet at the +post-office, and at the sociable, and about the fireside every night; +we live thick and are in each other's way, and stumble over one +another, and I think that we thus lose some respect for one another. +Certainly less frequency would suffice for all important and hearty +communications. Consider the girls in a factory--never alone, hardly +in their dreams. It would be better if there were but one inhabitant +to a square mile, as where I live. The value of a man is not in his +skin, that we should touch him. + +I have a great deal of company in my house; especially in the morning, +when nobody calls. Let me suggest a few comparisons, that some one may +convey an idea of my situation. I am no more lonely than the loon in +the pond that laughs so loud, or than Walden pond itself. What +company has that lonely lake, I pray? And yet it has not the blue +devils, but the blue angels in it, in the azure tint of its waters. +The sun is alone, except in thick weather, when there sometimes appear +to be two, but one is a mock sun. God is alone--but the devil, he is +far from being alone; he sees a great deal of company; he is legion. I +am no more lonely than a single mullein or dandelion in a pasture, or +a bean leaf, or sorrel, or a horse-fly, or a humble-bee. I am no more +lonely than the Mill brook, or a weathercock, or the north star, or +the south wind, or an April shower, or a January thaw, or the first +spider in a new house. + +I have occasional visits in the long winter evenings, when the snow +falls fast and the wind howls in the wood, from an old settler and +original proprietor, who is reported to have dug Walden pond, and +stoned it, and fringed it with pine woods; who tells me stories of old +time and of new eternity; and between us we manage to pass a cheerful +evening, with social mirth and pleasant views of things, even without +apples or cider; a most wise and humorous friend, whom I love much, +who keeps himself more secret than ever did Goffe or Whalley;[34] and +tho he is thought to be dead, none can show where he is buried. An +elderly dame, too, dwells in my neighborhood, invisible to most +persons, in whose odorous herb garden I love to stroll sometimes, +gathering simples and listening to her fables; for she has a genius of +unequaled fertility, and her memory runs back farther than mythology, +and she can tell me the original of every fable, and on what fact +every one is founded, for the incidents occurred when she was young. A +ruddy and lusty old dame, who delights in all weathers and seasons, +and is likely to outlive all her children yet. + +[Footnote 34: The English regicides who came to America, and after +1660 lived in concealment in New England, a part of the time in a cave +near New Haven. William Goffe died in Hadley, Mass., in 1679. Edward +Whalley, who had been one of Cromwell's major generals, died also in +Hadley a year before Goffe.] + + + + +JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL + + Born in 1819, died in 1891; graduated from Harvard in 1838; + in 1855 became professor at Harvard; editor of _The Atlantic + Monthly_ in 1857-62, _The North American Review_ in 1863-72; + minister to Spain in 1877-80, and Great Britain in 1880-85; + published "A Year's Life" in 1841, "The Vision of Sir + Launfal" in 1845, "A Fable for Critics" in 1848, "The Biglow + Papers" in 1848, and a second series in 1867, "Under the + Willows" in 1868, "The Cathedral" in 1869; among his + best-known prose works, "Conversations on Some of the Old + Poets" published in 1845, "Fireside Travels" in 1864, "Among + My Books" in 1870 and 1876, "My Study Windows" in 1871; his + "Letters" edited by Charles Eliot Norton, published in 1893. + + + + +I + +THE POET AS PROPHET[35] + + +Poets are the forerunners and prophets of changes in the moral world. +Driven by their fine nature to search into and reverently contemplate +the universal laws of the soul, they find some fragment of the broken +tables of God's law, and interpret it, half-conscious of its mighty +import. While philosophers are wrangling, and politicians playing at +snapdragon with, the destinies of millions, the poet, in the silent +deeps of his soul, listens to those mysterious pulses which, from one +central heart, send life and beauty through the finest veins of the +universe, and utters truths to be sneered at, perchance, by +contemporaries, but which become religion to posterity. Not unwisely +ordered is that eternal destiny which renders the seer despised of +men, since thereby he is but the more surely taught to lay his head +meekly upon the mother-breast of Nature, and harken to the musical +soft beating of her bounteous heart. + +[Footnote 35: From an essay contributed to _The Pioneer_ in 1843. +Lowell was the founder and editor of _The Pioneer_, Robert Carter +being his associate. The magazine lived only three months. Charles +Eliot Norton, the editor of Lowell's "Letters," says it "left its +projectors burdened with a considerable debt." "I am deeply in debt," +wrote Lowell afterward, when hesitating to undertake a journey, "and +feel a twinge for every cent I spend."] + +That Poesy, save as she can soar nearer to the blissful throne of the +Supreme Beauty, is of no more use than all other beautiful things are, +we are fain to grant. That she does not add to the outward wealth of +the body, and that she is only so much more excellent than any bodily +gift as spirit is more excellent than matter, we must also yield. But, +inasmuch as all beautiful things are direct messages and revelations +of himself, given us by our Father, and as Poesy is the searcher out +and interpreter of all these, tracing by her inborn sympathy the +invisible nerves which bind them harmoniously together, she is to be +revered and cherished. The poet has a fresher memory of Eden, and of +the path leading back thereto, than other men; so that we might almost +deem him to have been conceived, at least, if not borne and nursed, +beneath the ambrosial shadow of those dimly remembered bowers, and to +have had his infant ears filled with the divine converse of angels, +who then talked face to face with his sires, as with beloved younger +brethren, and of whose golden words only the music remained to him, +vibrating forever in his soul, and making him yearn to have all sounds +of earth harmonize therewith. In the poet's lofty heart Truth hangs +her aerie, and there Love flowers, scattering thence her winged seeds +over all the earth with every wind of heaven. In all ages the poet's +fiery words have goaded men to remember and regain their ancient +freedom, and, when they had regained it, have tempered it with a love +of beauty, so as that it should accord with the freedom of nature, and +be as unmovably eternal as that. The dreams of poets are morning +dreams, coming to them in the early dawn and daybreaking of great +truths, and are surely fulfilled at last. They repeat them, as +children do, and all Christendom, if it be not too busy with +quarreling about the meaning of creeds, which have no meaning at all, +listens with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile of pitying +incredulity; for reformers are always madmen in their own age, and +infallible saints in the next. + +We love to go back to the writings of our old poets, for we find in +them the tender germs of many a thought which now stands like a huge +oak in the inward world, an ornament and a shelter. We can not help +reading with awful interest what has been written or rudely scrawled +upon the walls of this our earthly prison house, by former dwellers +therein. From that which centuries have established, too, we may draw +true principles of judgment for the poetry of our own day. A right +knowledge and apprehension of the past teaches humbleness and +self-sustainment to the present. Showing us what has been, it also +reveals what can be done. Progress is Janus-faced, looking to the +bygone as well as to the coming; and radicalism should not so much +busy itself with lopping off the dead or seeming dead limbs, as with +clearing away that poisonous rottenness around the roots, from which +the tree has drawn the principle of death into its sap. A love of the +beautiful and harmonious, which must be the guide and forerunner to +every onward movement of humanity, is created and cherished more +surely by pointing out what beauty dwells in anything, even the most +deformed (for there is something in that also, else it could not even +be), than by searching out and railing at all the foulnesses in +nature. + +Not till we have patiently studied beauty can we safely venture to +look at defects, for not till then can we do it in that spirit of +earnest love, which gives more than it takes away. Exultingly as we +hail all signs of progress, we venerate the past also. The tendrils of +the heart, like those of ivy, cling but the more closely to what they +have clung to long, and even when that which they entwine crumbles +beneath them, they still run greenly over the ruin, and beautify those +defects which they can not hide. The past as well as the present, +molds the future, and the features of some remote progenitor will +revive again freshly in the latest offspring of the womb of time. Our +earth hangs well-nigh silent now, amid the chorus of her sister orbs, +and not till past and present move harmoniously together will music +once more vibrate on this long silent chord in the symphony of the +universe. + + + + +II + +THE FIRST OF THE MODERNS[36] + + +Dryden has now been in his grave nearly a hundred and seventy years; +in the second class of English poets perhaps no one stands, on the +whole, so high as he; during his lifetime, in spite of jealousy, +detraction, unpopular politics, and a suspicious change of faith, his +preeminence was conceded; he was the earliest complete type of the +purely literary man, in the modern sense; there is a singular +unanimity in allowing him a certain claim to greatness which would be +denied to men as famous and more read--to Pope or Swift, for example; +he is supposed, in some way or other, to have reformed English poetry. +It is now about half a century since the only uniform edition of his +works was edited by Scott. No library is complete without him, no name +is more familiar than his, and yet it may be suspected that few +writers are more thoroughly buried in that great cemetery of the +"British Poets." + +[Footnote 36: From the first essay in the first series entitled "Among +My Books." Copyright, 1870, by James Russell Lowell. Published by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +If contemporary reputation be often deceitful, posthumous fame may be +generally trusted, for it is a verdict made up of the suffrages of the +select men in succeeding generations. This verdict has been as good as +unanimous in favor of Dryden. It is, perhaps, worth while to take a +fresh observation of him, to consider him neither as warning nor +example, but to endeavor to make out what it is that has given so +lofty and firm a position to one of the most unequal, inconsistent, +and faulty writers that ever lived. He is a curious example of what we +often remark of the living, but rarely of the dead--that they get +credit for what they might be quite as much as for what they are--and +posterity has applied to him one of his own rules of criticism, +judging him by the best rather than the average of his achievement, a +thing posterity is seldom wont to do. On the losing side in politics, +it is true of his polemical writings as of Burke's--whom in many +respects he resembles, and especially in that supreme quality of a +reasoner, that his mind gathers not only heat, but clearness and +expansion, by its own motion--that they have won his battle for him in +the judgment of after times. + +To us, looking back at him, he gradually becomes a singularly +interesting and even picturesque figure. He is, in more senses than +one, in language, in turn of thought, in style of mind, in the +direction of his activity, the first of the moderns. He is the first +literary man who was also a man of the world, as we understand the +term. He succeeded Ben Jonson as the acknowledged dictator of wit and +criticism, as Dr. Johnson, after nearly the same interval, succeeded +him. All ages are, in some sense, ages of transition; but there are +times when the transition is more marked, more rapid; and it is, +perhaps, an ill fortune for a man of letters to arrive at maturity +during such a period, still more to represent in himself the change +that is going on, and to be an efficient cause in bringing it about. +Unless, like Goethe, he is of a singularly uncontemporaneous nature, +capable of being _tutta in se romita_, and of running parallel with +his time rather than being sucked into its current, he will be +thwarted in that harmonious development of native force which has so +much to do with its steady and successful application. Dryden +suffered, no doubt, in this way. Tho in creed he seems to have drifted +backward in an eddy of the general current; yet of the intellectual +movement of the time, so far certainly as literature shared in it, he +could say, with AEneas, not only that he saw, but that himself was a +great part of it. + +That movement was, on the whole, a downward one, from faith to scepticism, +from enthusiasm to cynicism, from the imagination to the understanding. It +was in a direction altogether away from those springs of imagination and +faith at which they of the last age had slaked the thirst or renewed the +vigor of their souls. Dryden himself recognized that indefinable and +gregarious influence which we call nowadays the spirit of the age, when he +said that "every age has a kind of universal genius." He had also a just +notion of that in which he lived; for he remarks, incidentally, that "all +knowing ages are naturally sceptic and not at all bigoted, which, if I am +not much deceived, is the proper character of our own." It may be conceived +that he was even painfully half-aware of having fallen upon a time +incapable, not merely of a great poet, but perhaps of any poet at all; for +nothing is so sensitive to the chill of a skeptical atmosphere as that +enthusiasm which, if it be not genius, is at least the beautiful illusion, +that saves it from the baffling quibbles of self-consciousness. Thrice +unhappy he who, born to see things as they might be, is schooled by +circumstances to see them as people say they are--to read God in a prose +translation. Such was Dryden's lot, and such, for a good part of his days, +it was by his own choice. He who was of a stature to snatch the torch of +life that flashes from lifted hand to hand along the generations, over the +heads of inferior men, chose rather to be a link-boy to the stews.... + +But at whatever period of his life we look at Dryden, and whatever, +for the moment, may have been his poetic creed, there was something in +the nature of the man that would not be wholly subdued to what it +worked in. There are continual glimpses of something in him greater +than he, hints of possibilities finer than anything he has done. You +feel that the whole of him was better than any random specimens, tho +of his best, seem to prove. _Incessu patet_, he has by times the large +stride of the elder race, tho it sinks too often into the slouch of a +man who has seen better days. His grand air may, in part, spring from +a habit of easy superiority to his competitors; but must also, in +part, be ascribed to an innate dignity of character. That this +preeminence should have been so generally admitted, during his life, +can only be explained by a bottom of good sense, kindliness, and sound +judgment, whose solid worth could afford that many a flurry of vanity, +petulance, and even error should flit across the surface and be +forgotten. Whatever else Dryden may have been, the last and abiding +impression of him is that he was thoroughly manly; and while it may be +disputed whether he was a great poet, it may be said of him, as +Wordsworth said of Burke, "that he was by far the greatest man of his +age, not only abounding in knowledge himself, but feeding, in various +directions, his most able contemporaries." + + + + +III + +OF FAULTS FOUND IN SHAKESPEARE[37] + + +Mr. Matthew Arnold seems to think that Shakespeare has damaged English +poetry. I wish he had! It is true he lifted Dryden above himself in +"All for Love"; but it was Dryden who said of him, by instinctive +conviction rather than judgment, that within his magic circle none +dared tread but he. Is he to blame for the extravagances of modern +diction, which are but the reaction of the brazen age against the +degeneracy of art into artifice, that has characterized the silver +period in every literature? We see in them only the futile effort of +misguided persons to torture out of language the secret of that +inspiration which should be in themselves. We do not find the +extravagances in Shakespeare himself. We never saw a line in any +modern poet that reminded us of him, and will venture to assert that +it is only poets of the second class that find successful imitators. +And the reason seems to us a very plain one. The genius of the great +poet seeks repose in the expression of itself, and finds it at last in +style, which is the establishment of a perfect mutual understanding +between the worker and his material. The secondary intellect, on the +other hand, seeks for excitement in expression, and stimulates itself +into mannerism, which is the wilful obtrusion of self, as style is its +unconscious abnegation. No poet of the first class has ever left a +school, because his imagination is incommunicable; while, just as +surely as the thermometer tells of the neighborhood of an iceberg, you +may detect the presence of a genius of the second class in any +generation by the influence of his mannerism, for that, being an +artificial thing, is capable of reproduction. Dante, Shakespeare, +Goethe, left no heirs either to the form or mode of their expression; +while Milton, Sterne, and Wordsworth left behind them whole regiments +uniformed with all their external characteristics. + +[Footnote 37: From the essay entitled "Shakespeare Once Again," +printed in the first series entitled "Among My Books." Copyright, +1870, by James Russell Lowell. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company.] + +We do not mean that great poetic geniuses may not have influenced +thought (tho we think it would be difficult to show how Shakespeare +had done so, directly and wilfully), but that they have not infected +contemporaries or followers with mannerism. The quality in him which +makes him at once so thoroughly English and so thoroughly cosmopolitan +is that aeration of the understanding by the imagination which he has +in common with all the greater poets, and which is the privilege of +genius. The modern school, which mistakes violence for intensity, +seems to catch its breath when it finds itself on the verge of natural +expression, and to say to itself, "Good heavens! I had almost +forgotten I was inspired!" But of Shakespeare we do not even suspect +that he ever remembered it. He does not always speak in that intense +way that flames up in Lear and Macbeth through the rifts of a soil +volcanic with passion. He allows us here and there the repose of a +commonplace character, the consoling distraction of a humorous one. He +knows how to be equable and grand without effort, so that we forget +the altitude of thought to which he has led us, because the slowly +receding slope of a mountain stretching downward by ample gradations +gives a less startling impression of height than to look over the edge +of a ravine that makes but a wrinkle in its flank. + +Shakespeare has been sometimes taxed with the barbarism of profuseness +and exaggeration. But this is to measure him by a Sophoclean scale. +The simplicity of the antique tragedy is by no means that of +expression, but is of form merely. In the utterance of great passions +something must be indulged to the extravagance of Nature; the subdued +tones to which pathos and sentiment are limited can not express a +tempest of the soul. The range between the piteous "no more but so," +in which Ophelia compresses the heartbreak whose compression was to +make her mad, and that sublime appeal of Lear to the elements of +nature, only to be matched, if matched at all, in the "Prometheus," is +a wide one, and Shakespeare is as truly simple in the one as in the +other. The simplicity of poetry is not that of prose, nor its +clearness that of ready apprehension merely. To a subtile sense, a +sense heightened by sympathy, those sudden fervors of phrase, gone ere +one can say it lightens, that show us Macbeth groping among the +complexities of thought in his conscience-clouded mind, and reveal the +intricacy rather than enlighten it, while they leave the eye darkened +to the literal meaning of the words, yet make their logical sequence +the grandeur of the conception, and its truth to nature clearer than +sober daylight could. There is an obscurity of mist rising from the +undrained shallows of the mind, and there is the darkness of +thunder-cloud gathering its electric masses with passionate intensity +from the clear element of the imagination, not at random or wilfully, +but by the natural processes of the creative faculty, to brood those +flashes of expression that transcend rhetoric, and are only to be +apprehended by the poetic instinct. + +In that secondary office of imagination, where it serves the artist, +not as the reason that shapes, but as the interpreter of his +conceptions into words, there is a distinction to be noticed between +the higher and lower mode in which it performs its function. It may be +either creative or pictorial, may body forth the thought or merely +image it forth. With Shakespeare, for example, imagination seems +immanent in his very consciousness; with Milton, in his memory. In the +one it sends, as if without knowing it, a fiery life into the verse, + + "Sei die Braut das Wort, + Braeutigam der Geist"; + +in the other it elaborates a certain pomp and elevation. Accordingly, +the bias of the former is toward over-intensity, of the latter toward +over-diffuseness. Shakespeare's temptation is to push a willing +metaphor beyond its strength, to make a passion over-inform its +tenement of words; Milton can not resist running a simile on into a +fugue. + +One always fancies Shakespeare in his best verses, and Milton at the +keyboard of his organ. Shakespeare's language is no longer the mere +vehicle of thought; it has become part of it, its very flesh and +blood. The pleasure it gives us is unmixt, direct, like that from the +smell of a flower or the flavor of a fruit. Milton sets everywhere his +little pitfalls of bookish association for the memory. I know that +Milton's manner is very grand. It is slow, it is stately, moving as in +triumphal procession, with music, with historic banners, with spoils +from every time and every region, and captive epithets, like huge +Sicambrians, thrust their broad shoulders between us and the thought +whose pomp they decorate. But it is manner, nevertheless, as is proved +by the ease with which it is parodied, by the danger it is in of +degenerating into mannerism whenever it forgets itself. Fancy a parody +of Shakespeare--I do not mean of his words, but of his tone, for that +is what distinguishes the master. You might as well try it with the +Venus of Melos. In Shakespeare it is always the higher thing, the +thought, the fancy, that is preeminent; it is Caesar that draws all +eyes, and not the chariot in which he rides, or the throng which is +but the reverberation of his supremacy. If not, how explain the charm +with which he dominates in all tongues, even under the disenchantment +of translation? Among the most alien races he is as solidly at home as +a mountain seen from different sides by many lands, itself superbly +solitary, yet the companion of all thoughts and domesticated in all +imaginations. + + + + +IV + +AMERICANS AS SUCCESSORS OF THE DUTCH[38] + + +For more than a century the Dutch were the laughing-stock of polite +Europe. They were butter-firkins, swillers of beer and schnapps, and +their _vrouws_ from whom Holbein painted the all but loveliest of +Madonnas, Rembrandt the graceful girl who sits immortal on his knee in +Dresden, and Rubens his abounding goddesses, were the synonyms of +clumsy vulgarity. Even so late as Irving the ships of the greatest +navigators in the world were represented as sailing equally well +stern-foremost. That the aristocratic Venetians should have + + "Riveted with gigantic piles + Thorough the center their new catched miles" + +was heroic. But the far more marvelous achievement of the Dutch in +the same kind was ludicrous even to republican Marvell. Meanwhile, +during that very century of scorn, they were the best artists, +sailors, merchants, bankers, printers, scholars, jurisconsults, and +statesmen in Europe, and the genius of Motley has revealed them to us, +earning a right to themselves by the most heroic struggle in human +annals. But, alas! they were not merely simple burghers who had fairly +made themselves High Mightinesses, and could treat on equal terms with +anointed kings, but their commonwealth carried in its bosom the germs +of democracy. They even unmuzzled, at least after dark, that dreadful +mastiff, the Press, whose scent is, or ought to be, so keen for wolves +in sheep's clothing and for certain other animals in lions' skins. +They made fun of sacred majesty, and, what was worse, managed +uncommonly well without it. In an age when periwigs made so large a +part of the natural dignity of man people with such a turn of mind +were dangerous. How could they seem other than vulgar and hateful? + +[Footnote 38: From the essay entitled "On a Certain Condescension in +Foreigners," printed in "From My Study Windows." Copyright, 1870, +1871, 1890, by James Russell Lowell. Published by Houghton, Mifflin +Company.] + +In the natural course of things we succeeded to this unenviable +position of general butt. The Dutch had thriven under it pretty well, +and there was hope that we could at least contrive to worry along. And +we certainly did in a very redoubtable fashion. Perhaps we deserved +some of the sarcasm more than our Dutch predecessors in office. We had +nothing to boast of in arts or letters, and were given to bragging +overmuch of our merely material prosperity, due quite as much to the +virtue of our continent as to our own. There was some truth in +Carlyle's sneer after all. Till we had succeeded in some higher way +than this, we had only the success of physical growth. Our greatness, +like that of enormous Russia, was greatness on the map--barbarian mass +only; but had we gone down, like that other Atlantis, in some vast +cataclysm, we should have covered but a pin's point on the chart of +memory, compared with those ideal spaces occupied by tiny Attica and +cramped England. At the same time, our critics somewhat too easily +forgot that material must make ready the foundation for ideal +triumphs, that the arts have no chance in poor countries. But it must +be allowed that democracy stood for a great deal in our shortcoming. +The _Edinburgh Review_ never would have thought of asking, "Who reads +a Russian book?" and England was satisfied with iron from Sweden +without being impertinently inquisitive after her painters and +statuaries. Was it that they expected too much from the mere miracle +of freedom? Is it not the highest art of a republic to make men of +flesh and blood, and not the marble ideals of such? It may be fairly +doubted whether we have produced this higher type of man yet. Perhaps +it is the collective, not the individual humanity that is to have a +chance of nobler development among us. We shall see. We have a vast +amount of imported ignorance, and, still worse, of native ready-made +knowledge, to digest before even the preliminaries of such a +consummation can be arranged. We have got to learn that statesmanship +is the most complicated of all arts, and to come back to the +apprenticeship system too hastily abandoned.... + +So long as we continue to be the most common-schooled and the least +cultivated people in the world, I suppose we must consent to endure +this condescending manner of foreigners toward us. The more friendly +they mean to be the more ludicrously prominent it becomes. They can +never appreciate the immense amount of silent work that has been done +here, making this continent slowly fit for the abode of man, and which +will demonstrate itself, let us hope, in the character of the people. +Outsiders can only be expected to judge a nation by the amount it has +contributed to the civilization of the world; the amount, that is, +that can be seen and handled. A great place in history can only be +achieved by competitive examinations, nay, by a long course of them. +How much new thought have we contributed to the common stock? Till +that question can be triumphantly answered, or needs no answer, we +must continue to be simply interesting as an experiment, to be studied +as a problem, and not respected as an attained result or an +accomplished solution. Perhaps, as I have hinted, their patronizing +manner toward us is the fair result of their failing to see here +anything more than a poor imitation, a plaster-cast of Europe. + +Are they not partly right? If the tone of the uncultivated American +has too often the arrogance of the barbarian, is not that of the +cultivated as often vulgarly apologetic? In the America they meet with +is there the simplicity, the manliness, the absence of sham, the faith +in human nature, the sensitiveness to duty and implied obligation, +that in any way distinguishes us from what our orators call "the +effete civilization of the Old World"? Is there a politician among us +daring enough (except a Dana[39] here and there) to risk his future on +the chance of our keeping our word with the exactness of superstitious +communities like England? Is it certain that we shall be ashamed of a +bankruptcy of honor, if we can only keep the letter of our bond? I +hope we shall be able to answer all these questions with a frank yes. + +[Footnote 39: The reference is to Richard Henry Dana, author of "Two +Years Before the Mast," who in 1876 was appointed by President Grant +minister to England, but failed of confirmation in the Senate, owing +to political intrigues due to his independence. Lowell appears to have +inserted this reference to Dana in an edition published subsequent to +the first, the date of the first being 1871.] + +At any rate, we would advise our visitors that we are not merely +curious creatures, but belong to the family of man, and that, as +individuals, we are not to be always subjected to the competitive +examination above mentioned, even if we acknowledged their competence +as an examining board. Above all, we beg them to remember that America +is not to us, as to them, a mere object of external interest to be +discust and analyzed, but in us, part of our very marrow. Let them not +suppose that we conceive of ourselves as exiles from the graces and +amenities of an older date than we, tho very much at home in a state +of things not yet all it might be or should be, but which we mean to +make so, and which we find both wholesome and pleasant for men (tho +perhaps not for _dilettanti_) to live in. "The full tide of human +existence"[40] may be felt here as keenly as Johnson felt it at +Charing Cross, and in a larger sense. I know one person who is +singular enough to think Cambridge the very best spot on the habitable +globe. "Doubtless God could have made a better, but doubtless He never +did." + +[Footnote 40: A remark of Dr. Johnson's as reported by Boswell.] + +It will take England a great while to get over her airs of patronage +toward us, or even passably to conceal them. She can not help +confounding the people with the country, and regarding us as lusty +juveniles. She has a conviction that whatever good there is in us is +wholly English, when the truth is that we are worth nothing except so +far as we have disinfected ourselves of Anglicism. She is especially +condescending just now, and lavishes sugar-plums on us as if we had +not outgrown them. I am no believer in sudden conversions, especially +in sudden conversions to a favorable opinion of people who have just +proved you to be mistaken in judgment and therefore unwise in policy. +I never blamed her for not wishing well to democracy--how should +she?--but _Alabamas_ are not wishes. Let her not be too hasty in +believing Mr. Reverdy Johnson's[41] pleasant words. Tho there is no +thoughtful man in America who would not consider a war with England +the greatest of calamities, yet the feeling toward her here is very +far from cordial, whatever our minister may say in the effusion that +comes after ample dining. Mr. Adams,[42] with his famous "My Lord, +this means war," perfectly represented his country. Justly or not, we +have a feeling that we have been wronged, not merely insulted. The +only sure way of bringing about a healthy relation between the two +countries is for Englishmen to clear their minds of the notion that we +are always to be treated as a kind of inferior and deported Englishman +whose nature they perfectly understand, and whose back they +accordingly stroke the wrong way of the fur with amazing perseverance. +Let them learn to treat us naturally on our merits as human beings, as +they would a German or a Frenchman, and not as if we were a kind of +counterfeit Briton whose crime appeared in every shade of difference, +and before long there would come that right feeling which we naturally +call a good understanding. The common blood, and still more the common +language, are fatal instruments of misapprehension. Let them give up +trying to understand us, still more thinking that they do, and acting +in various absurd ways as the necessary consequence, for they will +never arrive at that devoutly-to-be-wished consummation till they +learn to look at us as we are and not as they suppose us to be. Dear +old long-estranged mother-in-law, it is a great many years since we +parted. Since 1660, when you married again, you have been a +step-mother to us. Put on your spectacles, dear madam. Yes, we have +grown, and changed likewise. You would not let us darken your doors, +if you could possibly help it. + +[Footnote 41: Reverdy Johnson of Maryland, Mr. Adams's successor as +minister to England, negotiated a settlement of the _Alabama_ dispute, +which was unfavorably received in this country and finally rejected by +the Senate, which led to his recall in 1869.] + +[Footnote 42: Charles Francis Adams, our minister to England from 1861 +to 1867, made this remark to a British cabinet minister at the time of +the threatened sailing of the Laird rams.] + +We know that perfectly well. But pray, when we look to be treated as +men, don't shake that rattle in our faces, nor talk baby to us any +longer. + + "Do, child, go to it grandam, child; + Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will + Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig!" + + + + +CHARLES A. DANA + + Born in 1819, died in 1897; joined the Brook Farm Community + in 1842; an editor of the New York _Tribune_ in 1847-62; + Assistant Secretary of War in 1863-64; became editor of the + New York _Sun_ in 1868, remaining editor until his death; + published "A Household Book of Poetry" in 1857; joint editor + with George Ripley of the "American Encyclopedia." + + + + +GREELEY AS A MAN OF GENIUS[43] + + +Those who have examined the history of this remarkable man and who +know how to estimate the friendlessness, the disabilities, and the +disadvantages which surrounded his childhood and youth; the scanty +opportunities, or rather the absence of all opportunity, of education; +the destitution and loneliness amid which he struggled for the +possession of knowledge; and the unflinching zeal and pertinacity with +which he provided for himself the materials for intellectual growth, +will heartily echo the popular judgment that he was indeed a man of +genius, marked out from his cradle to inspire, animate, and instruct +others. + +[Footnote 43: From an article printed in the New York _Sun_, December +5, 1872. Greeley had died November 29, of this year.] + +From the first, when a child in his father's log cabin, lying upon the +hearth that he might read by the flickering firelight, his attention +was given almost exclusively to public and political affairs. This +determined his vocation as a journalist; and he seems never to have +felt any attraction toward any other of the intellectual professions. +He never had a thought of being a physician, a clergyman, an engineer, +or a lawyer. Private questions, individual controversies had little +concern for him except as they were connected with public interests. +Politics and newspapers were his delight, and he learned to be a +printer in order that he might become a newspaper maker. And after he +was the editor of a newspaper, what chiefly engaged him was the +discussion of political and social questions. His whole greatness as a +journalist was in this sphere. For the collection and digestion of +news, with the exception of election statistics, he had no great +fondness and no special ability. He valued talent in that department +only because he knew it was essential to the success of the newspaper +he loved. His own thoughts were always elsewhere. + +Accordingly there have been journalists who as such, strictly +speaking, have surpassed him. Minds not devoted to particular +doctrines, not absorbed in the advocacy of cherished ideas--in a word, +minds that believe little and aim only at the passing success of a +day--may easily excel one like him in the preparation of a mere +newspaper. Mr. Greeley was the antipodes of all such persons. He was +always absolutely in earnest. His convictions were intense; he had +that peculiar courage, most precious in a great man, which enables him +to adhere to his own line of action despite the excited appeals of +friends and the menaces of variable public opinion; and his constant +purpose was to assert his principles, to fight for them, and present +them to the public in the way most likely to give them the same hold +upon other minds which they had upon his own. In fact, he was not so +much a journalist, in the proper meaning of that term, as a +pamphleteer or writer of leading articles. + +In this sphere of effort he had scarcely an equal. His command of +language was extraordinary, tho he had little imagination and his +vocabulary was limited; but he possest the faculty of expressing +himself in a racy, virile manner, within the apprehension of every +reader. As he treated every topic in a practical rather than a +philosophical spirit, and with strong feeling rather than infallible +logic, so he never wrote above the heads of the public. What he said +was plain, clear, striking. His illustrations were quaint and homely, +sometimes even vulgar, but they never failed to tell. He was gifted +also with an excellent humor which greatly enlivened his writing. In +retort, especially when provoked, he was dangerous to his antagonist; +and tho his reasoning might be faulty, he would frequently gain his +cause by a flash of wit that took the public, and, as it were, hustled +his adversary out of court. But he was not always a victorious +polemic. His vehemence in controversy was sometimes too precipitate +for his prudence; he would rush into a fight with his armor +unfastened, and with only a part of the necessary weapons; and as the +late Washington Hunt[44] once exprest it, he could be more damaging to +his friends than to his opponents.... + +[Footnote 44: Governor of New York in 1851-53, having been elected by +the Whigs.] + +The occasional uncertainty of his judgment was probably due, in a +measure, to the deficiency of his education. Self-educated men are not +always endowed with the strong logical faculty and sure good sense +which are developed and strengthened by thorough intellectual culture. +Besides, a man of powerful intellect who is not regularly disciplined +is apt to fall into an exaggerated mental self-esteem from which more +accurate training and information would have preserved him. But the +very imperfection of Greeley's early studies had a compensation in the +fact that they left him, in all the tendencies and habits of his mind, +an American. No foreign mixture of thought or tradition went to the +composition of his strong intelligence. Of all the great men who have +become renowned on this side of the Atlantic he was most purely and +entirely the product of the country and its institutions. Accordingly, +a sturdy reliance on his own conclusions and a readiness to defy the +world in their behalf were among his most strongly marked +characteristics. + +But a kind of moral unsteadiness diminished his power. The miseries of +his childhood had left their trace in a querulous, lamentable, +helpless tone of feeling, into which he fell upon any little +misfortune or disappointment; and as he grew older he came to lack +hope. + + + + +JAMES PARTON + + Born in 1822, died in 1891; noted biographer and + miscellaneous writer; published "Life of Horace Greeley" in + 1855, "Aaron Burr" in 1857, "Andrew Jackson" in 1860, + "Benjamin Franklin" in 1864, "Thomas Jefferson" in 1874, + "Voltaire" in 1881; author of several other books. + + + + +AARON BURR AND MADAME JUMEL[45] + + +In the year 1822 M. Jumel lost a considerable part of his fortune, and +madame returned alone to New York, bringing with her a prodigious +quantity of grand furniture and paintings. Retiring to a seat in the +upper part of Manhattan Island, which she possest in her own +right,[46] she began with native energy the task of restoring her +husband's broken fortunes. She cultivated her farm; she looked +vigilantly to the remains of the estate; she economized. In 1828, when +M. Jumel returned to the United States, they were not as rich as in +former days, but their estate was ample for all rational purposes and +enjoyments. In 1832 M. Jumel, a man of magnificent proportions, very +handsome, and perfectly preserved (a great waltzer at seventy), was +thrown from a wagon and fatally injured. He died in a few days. Madame +was then little past her prime. + +[Footnote 45: From the "Life of Burr."] + +[Footnote 46: Still standing on an eminence near High Bridge and +popularly known as the Jumel House, tho it would more properly be +called the Morris House. It was built by Col. Roger Morris of the +British army after the old French war, his wife being Mary Philipse, +of Philipse Manor, a former sweetheart of Washington. During +Washington's sojourn in New York in 1776 it became his headquarters. +It is now owned by New York City and has become a museum of historical +relics.] + +There was talk of cholera in the city. Madame Jumel resolved upon +taking a carriage tour in the country. Before setting out she wished +to take legal advice respecting some real estate, and as Colonel +Burr's reputation in that department was preeminent, to his office in +Reade street she drove. In other days he had known her well, and tho +many an eventful year had passed since he had seen her, he recognized +her at once. He received her in his courtliest manner, complimented +her with admirable tact, listened with soft deference to her +statement. He was the ideal man of business--confidential, +self-possest, polite--giving his client the flattering impression that +the faculties of his whole soul were concentrated upon the affair in +hand. She was charmed, yet feared him. He took the papers, named the +day when his opinion would be ready, and handed her to her carriage +with winning grace. At seventy-eight years of age, he was still +straight, active, agile, fascinating. + +On the appointed day she sent to his office a relative, a student of +law, to receive his opinion. This young gentleman, timid and +inexperienced, had an immense opinion of Burr's talents; had heard all +good and all evil of him; supposed him to be, at least, the acutest of +possible men. He went. Burr behaved to him in a manner so exquisitely +pleasing that, to this hour, he has the liveliest recollection of the +scene. No topic was introduced but such as were familiar and +interesting to young men. His manners were such as this age of slangy +familiarity can not so much as imagine. The young gentleman went home +to Madame Jumel only to extol and glorify him. + +Madame and her party began their journey, revisiting Ballston, +whither, in former times, she had been wont to go in a chariot drawn +by eight horses; visiting Saratoga, then in the beginning of its +celebrity, where, in exactly ten minutes after her arrival, the +decisive lady bought a house and all it contained. Returning to New +York to find that her mansion had been despoiled by robbers in her +absence, she lived for a while in the city. Colonel Burr called upon +the young gentleman who had been madame's messenger, and, after their +acquaintance had ripened, said to him, "Come into my office; I can +teach you more in a year than you can learn in ten in an ordinary +way." The proposition being submitted to Madame Jumel, she, anxious +for the young man's advancement, gladly and gratefully consented. He +entered the office. Burr kept him close at his books. He did teach him +more in a year than he could have learned in ten in an ordinary way. +Burr lived then in Jersey City. His office (23 Nassau street) swarmed +with applicants for aid, and he seemed now to have quite lost the +power of refusing. In no other respects, bodily or mental, did he +exhibit signs of decrepitude. + +Some months passed on without his again meeting Madame Jumel. At the +suggestion of the student, who felt exceedingly grateful to Burr for +the solicitude with which he assisted in his studies, Madame Jumel +invited Colonel Burr to dinner. It was a grand banquet, at which he +displayed all the charms of his manner, and shone to conspicuous +advantage. On handing to dinner the giver of the feast, he said: "I +give you my hand, madame; my heart has long been yours." This was +supposed to be merely a compliment, and was little remarked at the +time. Colonel Burr called upon the lady; called frequently; became +ever warmer in his attentions; proposed, at length, and was refused. +He still plied his suit, however, and obtained at last, not the lady's +consent, but an undecided No. Improving his advantage on the instant, +he said, in a jocular manner, that he should bring out a clergyman to +Fort Washington on a certain day, and there he would once more solicit +her hand. + +He was as good as his word. At the time appointed, he drove out in his +gig to the lady's country residence, accompanied by Dr. Bogart, the +very clergyman who, just fifty years before, had married him to the +mother of his Theodosia. The lady was embarrassed, and still refused. +But then the scandal! And, after all, why not? Her estate needed a +vigilant guardian, and the old house was lonely. After much +hesitation, she at length consented to be drest, and to receive her +visitors. And she was married. The ceremony was witnessed only by the +members of Madame Jumel's family, and by the eight servants of the +household, who peered eagerly in at the doors and windows. The +ceremony over, Mrs. Burr ordered supper. Some bins of M. Jumel's +wine-cellar, that had not been opened for half a century, were laid +under contribution. The little party was a very merry one. The parson, +in particular, it is remembered, was in the highest spirits, +overflowing with humor and anecdote. Except for Colonel Burr's great +age (which was not apparent), the match seemed not an unwise one. The +lurking fear he had had of being a poor and homeless old man was put +to rest. She had a companion who had been ever agreeable, and her +estate a steward than whom no one living was supposed to be more +competent. + +As a remarkable circumstance connected with this marriage, it may be +just mentioned that there was a woman in New York who had aspired to +the hand of Colonel Burr, and who, when she heard of his union with +another, wrung her hands and shed tears! A feeling of that nature can +seldom, since the creation of man, have been excited by the marriage +of a man on the verge of fourscore. + +A few days after the wedding the "happy pair" paid a visit to +Connecticut, of which State a nephew of Colonel Burr was then +governor. They were received with attention. At Hartford Burr advised +his wife to sell out her shares in the bridge over the Connecticut at +that place, and invest the proceeds in real estate. She ordered them +sold. The stock was in demand, and the shares brought several thousand +dollars. The purchasers offered to pay her the money, but she said, +"No; pay it to my husband." To him, accordingly, it was paid, and he +had it sewed up in his pocket, a prodigious bulk, and brought it to +New York, and deposited it in his own bank, to his own credit. + +Texas was then beginning to attract the tide of emigration which, a +few years later, set so strongly thither. Burr had always taken a +great interest in that country. Persons with whom he had been +variously connected in life had a scheme on foot for settling a large +colony of Germans on a tract of land in Texas. A brig had been +chartered, and the project was in a state of forwardness, when the +possession of a sum of money enabled Burr to buy shares in the +enterprise. The greater part of the money which he had brought from +Hartford was invested in this way. It proved a total loss. The time +had not yet come for emigration to Texas. The Germans became +discouraged and separated, and, to complete the failure of the scheme, +the title of the lands in the confusion of the times proved defective. +Meanwhile madame, who was a remarkably thrifty woman, with a talent +for the management of property, wondered that her husband made no +allusion to the subject of the investment; for the Texas speculation +had not been mentioned to her. She caused him to be questioned on the +subject. He begged to intimate to the lady's messenger that it was no +affair of hers, and requested him to remind the lady that she now had +a husband to manage her affairs, and one who would manage them. + +Coolness between the husband and wife was the result of this colloquy. +Then came remonstrances. Then estrangement. Burr got into the habit of +remaining at his office in the city. Then partial reconciliation. Full +of schemes and speculations to the last, without retaining any of his +former ability to operate successfully, he lost more money, and more, +and more. The patience of the lady was exhausted. She filed a +complaint accusing him of infidelity, and praying that he might have +no more control or authority over her affairs. The accusation is now +known to have been groundless; nor, indeed, at the time was it +seriously believed. It was used merely as the most convenient legal +mode of depriving him of control over her property. At first he +answered the complaint vigorously, but afterward he allowed it to go +by default, and proceedings were carried no further. A few short weeks +of happiness, followed by a few months of alternate estrangement and +reconciliation, and this union, that began not inauspiciously, was, in +effect, tho never in law, dissolved. What is strangest of all is that +the lady, tho she never saw her husband during the last two years of +his life, cherished no ill-will toward him, and shed tears at his +death. To this hour Madame Jumel thinks and speaks of him with +kindness, attributing what was wrong or unwise in his conduct to the +infirmities of age. + +Men of seventy-eight have been married before and since. But, +probably, never has there been another instance of a man of that age +winning a lady of fortune and distinction, grieving another by his +marriage, and exciting suspicions of incontinence against himself by +his attentions to a third! + + + + +FRANCIS PARKMAN + + Born in 1823, died in 1893; graduated from Harvard in 1844; + studied law, but abandoned it for literature; his eyesight + so defective he was nearly blind; professor at Harvard in + 1871-72; published his "Conspiracy of Pontiac" in 1851, + "Pioneers of France in the New World" in 1865, "Jesuits in + North America" in 1867, "La Salle and the Discovery of the + Great West" in 1869, "The Old Regime in Canada" in 1874, + "Count Frontenac" in 1877, "Montcalm and Wolfe" in 1884, "A + Half-Century of Conflict" in 1892. + + + + +I + +CHAMPLAIN'S BATTLE WITH THE IROQUOIS[47] + +(1609) + + +It was ten o'clock in the evening when, near a projecting point of +land, which was probably Ticonderoga, they descried dark objects in +motion on the lake before them. These were a flotilla of Iroquois +canoes, heavier and slower than theirs, for they were made of oak +bark. Each party saw the other, and the mingled war-cries pealed over +the darkened water. The Iroquois, who were near the shore, having no +stomach for an aquatic battle, landed, and, making night hideous with +their clamors, began to barricade themselves. Champlain could see them +in the woods, laboring like beavers, hacking down trees with iron axes +taken from the Canadian tribes in war, and with stone hatchets of +their own making. The allies remained on the lake, a bowshot from the +hostile barricade, their canoes made fast together by poles lasht +across. All night they danced with as much vigor as the frailty of +their vessels would permit, their throats making amends for the +enforced restraint of their limbs. It was agreed on both sides that +the fight should be deferred till daybreak; but meanwhile a commerce +of abuse, sarcasm, menace, and boasting gave unceasing exercise to the +lungs and fancy of the combatants--"much," says Champlain, "like the +besiegers and besieged in a beleaguered town." + +[Footnote 47: From Chapter X of "The Pioneers of France in the New +World." Copyright, 1865, by Francis Parkman. Published by Little, +Brown & Co. It may be noted here that one of the most remarkable +coincidences in the history of exploration is the fact that, at the +time of this battle between Champlain and the Iroquois, Henry Hudson +was ascending the river that bears his name. Hudson went as far as the +site of Albany. The two explorers, therefore, at the same time had +reached points distant from each other only about one hundred miles, +and yet each was unaware of the other's presence. Champlain and Hudson +represented the opposing forces in race and system of government +which, from that time until the death of Montcalm at Quebec, were to +contend for mastery of the North American continent.] + +As day approached, he and his two followers put on the light armor of +the time. Champlain wore the doublet and long hose then in vogue. Over +the doublet he buckled on a breastplate, and probably a back-piece, +while his thighs were protected by cuisses of steel, and his head by a +plumed casque. Across his shoulder hung the strap of his bandoleer, or +ammunition-box; at his side was his sword, and in his hand his +arquebus. Such was the equipment of this ancient Indian-fighter, whose +exploits date eleven years before the landing of the Puritans at +Plymouth, and sixty-six years before King Philip's War. + +Each of the three Frenchmen was in a separate canoe, and, as it grew +light, they kept themselves hidden, either by lying at the bottom, or +covering themselves with an Indian robe. The canoes approached the +shore, and all landed without opposition at some distance from the +Iroquois, whom they presently could see filing out of their barricade, +tall, strong men, some two hundred in number, the boldest and fiercest +warriors of North America. They advanced through the forest with a +steadiness which excited the admiration of Champlain. Among them could +be seen three chiefs, made conspicuous by their tall plumes. Some bore +shields of wood and hide, and some were covered with a kind of armor +made of tough twigs interlaced with a vegetable fiber supposed by +Champlain to be cotton. + +The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries for their +champion, and opened their ranks that he might pass to the front. He +did so, and, advancing before his red companions in arms, stood +revealed to the gaze of the Iroquois, who, beholding the warlike +apparition in their path, stared in mute amazement. "I looked at +them," says Champlain, "and they looked at me. When I saw them getting +ready to shoot their arrows at us, I leveled my arquebus, which I had +loaded with four balls, and aimed straight at one of the three chiefs. +The shot brought down two, and wounded another. On this, our Indians +set up such a yelling that one could not have heard a thunder-clap, +and all the while the arrows flew thick on both sides. The Iroquois +were greatly astonished and frightened to see two of their men killed +so quickly, in spite of their arrow-proof armor. As I was reloading, +one of my companions fired a shot from the woods, which so increased +their astonishment that, seeing their chiefs dead, they abandoned the +field and fled into the depth of the forest." The allies dashed after +them. Some of the Iroquois were killed, and more were taken. Camp, +canoes, provisions, all were abandoned, and many weapons flung down in +the panic flight. The victory was complete. + +At night the victors led out one of the prisoners, told him that he +was to die by fire, and ordered him to sing his death-song, if he +dared. Then they began the torture, and presently scalped their victim +alive, when Champlain, sickening at the sight, begged leave to shoot +him. They refused, and he turned away in anger and disgust; on which +they called him back and told him to do as he pleased. He turned again +and a shot from his arquebus put the wretch out of misery. + +The scene filled him with horror; but, a few months later, on the +Place de la Greve at Paris, he might have witnessed tortures equally +revolting and equally vindictive, inflicted on the regicide +Ravaillac[48] by the sentence of grave and learned judges. + +[Footnote 48: Ravaillac, a religious fanatic, was the assassin of +Henry IV of France. After climbing on to the rear of the King's +carriage in one of the streets of Paris, he stabbed the King twice, +the second wound proving fatal. Ravaillac met his death by being torn +asunder by horses.] + + + + +II + +THE DEATH OF LA SALLE[49] + +(1687) + + +Night came; the woods grew dark; the evening meal was finished, and +the evening pipes were smoked. The order of the guard was arranged; +and, doubtless by design, the first hour of the night was assigned to +Moranget, the second to Saget, and the third to Nika. Gun in hand, +each stood watch in turn over the silent but not sleeping forms around +him, till, his time expiring, he called the man who was to relieve +him, wrapt himself in his blanket, and was soon buried in a slumber +that was to be his last. Now the assassins rose. Duhaut and Hiens +stood with their guns cocked, ready to shoot down any one of the +destined victims who should resist or fly. The surgeon, with an ax, +stole toward the three sleepers, and struck a rapid blow at each in +turn. Saget and Nika died with little movement; but Moranget started +spasmodically into a sitting posture, gasping and unable to speak; and +the murderers compelled De Marle, who was not in their plot, to +compromise himself by dispatching him. + +[Footnote 49: From Chapter XXVII of "La Salle and the Discovery of the +Great West." La Salle was assassinated by some of his own men, near a +branch of the Trinity river in Texas. He had sailed from France in +1684 for the purpose of founding a colony at the mouth of the +Mississippi, and had landed at Matagorda Bay, mistaking it for an +outlet of the Mississippi. He was about to sail for Canada in order to +get supplies for his colony, when he met the fate here described. +Copyright, 1860, 1879, 1897, by Francis Parkman, published by Little, +Brown & Company.] + +The floodgates of murder were open, and the torrent must have its way. +Vengeance and safety alike demanded the death of La Salle. Hiens, or +"English Jem," alone seems to have hesitated; for he was one of those +to whom that stern commander had always been partial. Meanwhile, the +intended victim was still at his camp, about six miles distant. It is +easy to picture, with sufficient accuracy, the features of the +scene--the sheds of bark and branches, beneath which, among blankets +and buffalo-robes, camp utensils, pack-saddles, rude harness, guns, +powder-horns, and bullet-pouches, the men lounged away the hour, +sleeping or smoking, or talking among themselves; the blackened +kettles that hung from tripods of poles over the fires; the Indians +strolling about the place or lying, like dogs in the sun, with eyes +half-shut, yet all observant; and, in the neighboring meadow, the +horses grazing under the eye of a watchman. + +It was the eighteenth of March. Moranget and his companions had been +expected to return the night before; but the whole day passed, and +they did not appear. La Salle became very anxious. He resolved to go +and look for them; but, not well knowing the way, he told the Indians +who were about the camp that he would give them a hatchet if they +would guide him. One of them accepted the offer; and La Salle prepared +to set out in the morning, at the same time directing Joutel to be +ready to go with him. Joutel says: "That evening, while we were +talking about what could have happened to the absent men, he seemed +to have a presentiment of what was to take place. He asked me if I had +heard of any machinations against them, or if I had noticed any bad +design on the part of Duhaut and the rest. I answered that I had heard +nothing, except that they sometimes complained of being found fault +with so often; and that this was all I knew, besides which, as they +were persuaded that I was in his interest, they would not have told me +of any bad design they might have. We were very uneasy all the rest of +the evening." + +In the morning La Salle set out with his Indian guide. He had changed +his mind with regard to Joutel, whom he now directed to remain in +charge of the camp and to keep a careful watch. He told the friar +Anastase Douay to come with him instead of Joutel, whose gun, which +was the best in the party, he borrowed for the occasion, as well as +his pistol. The three proceeded on their way--La Salle, the friar, and +the Indian. "All the way," writes the friar, "he spoke to me of +nothing but matters of piety, grace, and predestination; enlarging on +the debt he owed to God, who had saved him from so many perils during +more than twenty years of travel in America. Suddenly, I saw him +overwhelmed with a profound sadness, for which he himself could not +account. He was so much moved that I scarcely knew him." He soon +recovered his usual calmness; and they walked on till they approached +the camp of Duhaut, which was on the farther side of a small river. +Looking about him with the eye of a woodsman, La Salle saw two eagles +circling in the air nearly over him, as if attracted by carcasses of +beasts or men. He fired his gun and his pistol, as a summons to any of +his followers who might be within hearing. The shots reached the ears +of the conspirators. + +Rightly conjecturing by whom they were fired, several of them, led by +Duhaut, crossed the river at a little distance above, where trees or +other intervening objects hid them from sight. Duhaut and the surgeon +crouched like Indians in the long, dry, reed-like grass of the last +summer's growth, while L'Archeveque stood in sight near the bank. La +Salle, continuing to advance, soon saw him, and calling to him, +demanded where was Moranget. The man, without lifting his hat, or any +show of respect, replied in an agitated and broken voice, but with a +tone of studied insolence, that Moranget was strolling about +somewhere. La Salle rebuked and menaced him. He rejoined with +increased insolence, drawing back, as he spoke, toward the ambuscade, +while the incensed commander advanced to chastise him. At that moment, +a shot was fired from the grass, instantly followed by another; and, +pierced through the brain, La Salle dropt dead. + +The friar at his side stood terror-stricken, unable to advance or to +fly; when Duhaut, rising from the ambuscade, called out to him to take +courage, for he had nothing to fear. The murderers now came forward, +and with wild looks gathered about their victim. "There thou liest, +great Bashaw! There thou liest!" exclaimed the surgeon Liotot, in base +exultation over the unconscious corpse. With mockery and insult, they +stript it naked, dragged it into the bushes, and left it there, a prey +to buzzards and wolves. + +Thus, in the vigor of his manhood, at the age of forty-three, died +Robert Cavelier de La Salle, "one of the greatest men," writes Tonty, +"of this age"; without question one of the most remarkable explorers +whose names live in history. His faithful officer Joutel thus sketches +his portrait: "His firmness, his courage, his great knowledge of the +arts and sciences, which made him equal to every undertaking, and his +untiring energy, which enabled him to surmount every obstacle, would +have won at last a glorious success for his grand enterprise, had not +all his fine qualities been counterbalanced by a haughtiness of manner +which often made him unsupportable, and by a harshness toward those +under his command which drew upon him an implacable hatred, and was at +last the cause of his death." + +The enthusiasm of the disinterested and chivalrous Champlain was not +the enthusiasm of La Salle, nor had he any part in the self-devoted +zeal of the early Jesuit explorers. He belonged not to the age of the +knight-errant and the saint, but to the modern world of practical +study and practical action. He was the hero, not of a principle nor of +a faith, but simply of a fixt idea and a determined purpose. As often +happens with concentered and energetic natures, his purpose was to him +a passion and an inspiration; and he clung to it with a certain +fanaticism of devotion. It was the offspring of an ambition vast and +comprehensive, yet acting in the interest both of France and of +civilization. + +Serious in all things, incapable of the lighter pleasures, incapable +of repose, finding no joy but in the pursuit of great designs, too shy +for society and too reserved for popularity, often unsympathetic and +always seeming so, smothering emotions which he could not utter, +schooled to universal distrust, stern to his followers and pitiless to +himself, bearing the brunt of every hardship and every danger, +demanding of others an equal constancy joined to an implicit +deference, heeding no counsel but his own, attempting the impossible +and grasping at what was too vast to hold--he contained in his own +complex and painful nature the chief springs of his triumphs, his +failures, and his death. + +It is easy to reckon up his defects, but it is not easy to hide from +sight the Roman virtues that redeemed them. Beset by a throng of +enemies, he stands, like the King of Israel, head and shoulders above +them all. He was a tower of adamant, against whose impregnable front +hardship and danger, the rage of man and of the elements, the southern +sun, the northern blast, fatigue, famine, and disease, delay, +disappointment, and deferred hope emptied their quivers in vain. That +very pride which, Coriolanus-like, declared itself most sternly in the +thickest press of foes, has in it something to challenge admiration. +Never, under the impenetrable mail of paladin or crusader, beat a +heart of more intrepid mettle than within the stoic panoply that armed +the breast of La Salle. To estimate aright the marvels of his patient +fortitude, one must follow on his track through the vast scene of his +interminable journeyings, those thousands of weary miles of forest, +marsh, and river, where, again and again, in the bitterness of baffled +striving, the untiring pilgrim pushed onward toward the goal which he +was never to attain. America owes him an enduring memory; for, in this +masculine figure, she sees the pioneer who guided her to the +possession of her richest heritage. + + + + +III + +THE COMING OF FRONTENAC TO CANADA[50] + +(1672) + + +Count Frontenac came of an ancient and noble race, said to have been of +Basque origin. His father held a high post in the household of Louis XIII, +who became the child's godfather, and gave him his own name. At the age of +fifteen, the young Louis showed an uncontrollable passion for the life of a +soldier. He was sent to the seat of war in Holland, to serve under the +Prince of Orange. At the age of nineteen, he was a volunteer at the siege +of Hesdin; in the next year he was at Arras, where he distinguished himself +during a sortie of the garrison; in the next, he took part in the siege of +Aire; and, in the next, in those of Callioure and Perpignan. At the age of +twenty-three, he was made colonel of the regiment of Normandy, which he +commanded in repeated battles and sieges of the Italian campaign. He was +several times wounded, and in 1646 he had an arm broken at the siege of +Orbitello. In the same year, when twenty-six years old, he was raised to +the rank of marechal de camp, equivalent to that of brigadier-general. A +year or two later we find him at Paris, at the house of his father, on the +Quai des Celestins. + +[Footnote 50: From Chapters I and II of "Count Frontenac and New +France Under Louis XIV." Copyright, 1877, by Francis Parkman. +Published by Little, Brown & Company.] + +In the same neighborhood lived La Grange-Trianon, Sieur de Neuville, a +widower of fifty, with one child, a daughter of sixteen, whom he had +placed in the charge of his relative, Madame de Bouthillier. Frontenac +fell in love with her. Madam de Bouthillier opposed the match, and +told La Grange that he might do better for his daughter than marry her +to a man who, say what he might, had but twenty thousand francs a +year. La Grange was weak and vacillating: sometimes he listened to his +prudent kinswoman, and sometimes to the eager suitor; treated him as a +son-in-law, carried love messages from him to his daughter, and ended +by refusing him her hand, and ordering her to renounce him on pain of +being immured in a convent. Neither Frontenac nor his mistress was of +a pliant temper. In the neighborhood was the little church of St. +Pierre aux Boeufs, which had the privilege of uniting couples without +the consent of their parents; and here, on a Wednesday in October, +1648, the lovers were married in presence of a number of Frontenac's +relatives. La Grange was furious at the discovery; but his anger soon +cooled, and complete reconciliation followed. + +The happiness of the newly wedded pair was short. Love soon changed to +aversion, at least on the part of the bride. She was not of a tender +nature; her temper was imperious, and she had a restless craving for +excitement. Frontenac, on his part, was the most wayward and +headstrong of men. She bore him a son; but maternal cares were not to +her liking.... + +At Versailles there is a portrait of a lady, beautiful and young. She +is painted as Minerva, a plumed helmet on her head, and a shield on +her arm. In a corner of the canvas is written Anne de La +Grange-Trianon, Comtesse de Frontenac. This blooming goddess was the +wife of the future governor of Canada. + +Madame de Frontenac, at the age of about twenty, was a favorite +companion of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, the grand-daughter of Henry +IV and a daughter of the weak and dastardly Gaston, Duke of Orleans. +Nothing in French annals has found more readers than the story of the +exploit of this spirited princess at Orleans during the civil war of +the Fronde. Her cousin Conde, chief of the revolt, had found favor in +her eyes; and she had espoused his cause against her cousin, the +King.... + +In 1669, a Venetian embassy came to France to beg for aid against the +Turks, who for more than two years had attacked Candia in overwhelming +force. The ambassadors offered to place their own troops under French +command, and they asked Turenne to name a general officer equal to the +task. Frontenac had the signal honor of being chosen by the first +soldier of Europe for this most arduous and difficult position. He +went accordingly. The result increased his reputation for ability and +courage; but Candia was doomed, and its chief fortress fell into the +hands of the infidels, after a protracted struggle, which is said to +have cost them a hundred and eighty thousand men. + +Three years later Frontenac received the appointment of Governor and +Lieutenant-General for the King in all New France. "He was," says +Saint-Simon, "a man of excellent parts, living much in society, and +completely ruined. He found it hard to bear the imperious temper of +his wife and he was given the government of Canada to deliver him from +her, and afford him some means of living." Certain scandalous songs of +the day assign a different motive for his appointment. Louis XIV was +enamored of Madame de Montespan. She had once smiled upon Frontenac; +and it is said that the jealous King gladly embraced the opportunity +of removing from his presence and from hers a lover who had +forestalled him. + +Frontenac's wife had no thought of following him across the sea, a +more congenial life awaiting her at home.... + +Frontenac was fifty-two years old when he landed at Quebec. If time +had done little to cure his many faults, it had done nothing to weaken +the springs of his unconquerable vitality. In his ripe middle age he +was as keen, fiery, and perversely headstrong as when he quarreled +with Prefontaine in the hall at St. Fargeau. + +Had nature disposed him to melancholy, there was much in his position +to awaken it. A man of courts and camps, born and bred in the focus of +a most gorgeous civilization, he was banished to the ends of the +earth, among savage hordes and half-reclaimed forests, to exchange the +splendors of St. Germain and the dawning glories of Versailles for a +stern gray rock, haunted by somber priests, rugged merchants and +traders, blanketed Indians, and wild bushrangers. But Frontenac was a +man of action. He wasted no time in vain regrets, and set himself to +his work with the elastic vigor of youth. His first impressions had +been very favorable. When, as he sailed up the St. Lawrence, the basin +of Quebec opened before him, his imagination kindled with the grandeur +of the scene. "I never," he wrote, "saw anything more superb than the +position of this town. It could not be better situated as the future +capital of a great empire." + + + + +IV + +THE DEATH OF ISAAC JOGUES[51] + +(1646) + + +Late in the autumn a party of the Indians set forth on their yearly +deer-hunt, and Jogues was ordered to go with them. Shivering and +half-famished, he followed them through the chill November forest, and +shared their wild bivouac in the depths of the wintry desolation. The +game they took was devoted to Areskoui, their god, and eaten in his +honor. Jogues would not taste the meat offered to a demon; and thus he +starved in the midst of plenty. At night, when the kettle was slung, +and the savage crew made merry around their fire, he crouched in a +corner of the hut, gnawed by hunger, and pierced to the bone with +cold. They thought his presence unpropitious to their hunting, and the +women especially hated him. His demeanor at once astonished and +incensed his masters. He brought them fire-wood, like a squaw; he did +their bidding without a murmur, and patiently bore their abuse; but +when they mocked at his God, and laughed at his devotions, their slave +assumed an air and tone of authority, and sternly rebuked them. + +[Footnote 51: From Chapters XVI and XX of "The Jesuits in North +America." Copyright, 1867, 1895, by Francis Parkman. Published by +Little, Brown & Company. The site of Jogues's martyrdom is near +Auriesville in the Mohawk valley, where a memorial chapel in his honor +is now maintained, the Rev. John J. Wynne, S. J., having been active +in securing and maintaining it.] + +He would sometimes escape from "this Babylon," as he calls the hut, +and wander in the forest, telling his beads and repeating passages of +Scripture. In a remote and lonely spot he cut the bark in the form of +the cross from the trunk of a great tree; and here he made his +prayers. This living martyr, half-clad in shaggy furs, kneeling on the +snow among the icicled rocks and beneath the gloomy pines, bowing in +adoration before the emblem of the faith in which was his only +consolation and his only hope, is alike a theme for the pen and a +subject for the pencil.... + +He remained two days, half-stifled, in this foul lurking-place,[52] +while the Indians, furious at his escape, ransacked the settlement in +vain to find him. They came off to the vessel, and so terrified the +officers that Jogues was sent on shore at night, and led to the fort. +Here he was hidden in the garret of a house occupied by a miserly old +man, to whose charge he was consigned. Food was sent to him; but, as +his host appropriated the larger part to himself, Jogues was nearly +starved. There was a compartment of his garret, separated from the +rest by a partition of boards. Here the old Dutchman, who, like many +others of the settlers, carried on a trade with the Mohawks, kept a +quantity of goods for that purpose; and hither he often brought his +customers. The boards of the partition had shrunk, leaving wide +crevices; and Jogues could plainly see the Indians, as they passed +between him and the light. They, on their part, might as easily have +seen him, if he had not, when he heard them entering the house, hidden +himself behind some barrels in the corner, where he would sometimes +remain crouched for hours, in a constrained and painful posture, +half-suffocated with heat, and afraid to move a limb. His wounded leg +began to show dangerous symptoms; but he was relieved by the care of a +Dutch, surgeon of the fort. The minister, Megapolensis, also visited +him, and did all in his power for the comfort of his Catholic brother, +with whom he seems to have been well pleased, and whom he calls "a +very learned scholar." + +[Footnote 52: Near Albany, or Fort Orange, as it was then called.] + +When Jogues had remained for six weeks in this hiding-place, his Dutch +friends succeeded in satisfying his Indian masters by the payment of a +large ransom. A vessel from Manhattan, now New York, soon after brought up +an order from the Director-General, Kieft, that he should be sent to him. +Accordingly, he was placed in a small vessel, which carried him down the +Hudson. The Dutch on board treated him with great kindness; and, to do him +honor, named after him one of the islands in the river. At Manhattan he +found a dilapidated fort, garrisoned by sixty soldiers, and containing a +stone church and the Director-General's house, together with storehouses +and barracks. Near it were ranges of small houses, occupied chiefly by +mechanics and laborers; while the dwellings of the remaining colonists, +numbering in all four or five hundred, were scattered here and there on the +island and the neighboring shores. The settlers were of different sects and +nations, but chiefly Dutch Calvinists. Kieft told his guest that eighteen +different languages were spoken at Manhattan. The colonists were in the +midst of a bloody Indian war, brought on by their own besotted cruelty; and +while Jogues was at the fort, some forty of the Dutchmen were killed on the +neighboring farms, and many barns and houses burned. + +The Director-General, with a humanity that was far from usual with +him, exchanged Jogues's squalid and savage dress for a suit of Dutch +cloth, and gave him passage in a small vessel which was then about to +sail.... + +Jogues became a center of curiosity and reverence. He was summoned to +Paris. The Queen, Anne of Austria, wished to see him; and when the +persecuted slave of the Mohawks was conducted into her presence, she +kissed his mutilated hands, while the ladies of the court thronged +around to do him homage. We are told, and no doubt with truth, that +these honors were unwelcome to the modest and single-hearted +missionary, who thought only of returning to his work of converting +the Indians. A priest with any deformity of body is debarred from +saying mass. The teeth and knives of the Iroquois had inflicted an +injury worse than the tortures imagined, for they had robbed Jogues of +the privilege which was the chief consolation of his life; but the +Pope, by a special dispensation, restored it to him, and with the +opening spring he sailed again for Canada.... + +In the evening--it was the eighteenth of October--Jogues, smarting +with his wounds and bruises, was sitting in one of the lodges, when an +Indian entered, and asked him to a feast. To refuse would have been an +offense. He arose and followed the savage, who led him to the lodge of +the Bear chief. Jogues bent his head to enter, when another Indian, +standing concealed within, at the side of the doorway, struck at him +with a hatchet. An Iroquois, called by the French Le Berger, who seems +to have followed in order to defend him, bravely held out his arm to +ward off the blow; but the hatchet cut through it, and sank into the +missionary's brain. He fell at the feet of his murderer, who at once +finished the work by hacking off his head. Lalande was left in +suspense all night, and in the morning was killed in a similar manner. +The bodies of the two Frenchmen were then thrown into the Mohawk, and +their heads displayed on the points of the palisade which enclosed the +town. + +Thus died Isaac Jogues, one of the purest examples of Roman Catholic +virtue which this western continent has seen. + + + + +V + +WHY NEW FRANCE FAILED[53] + + +New France was all head. Under king, noble, and Jesuit, the lank, lean +body would not thrive. Even commerce wore the sword, decked itself +with badges of nobility, aspired to forest seigniories and hordes of +savage retainers. Along the borders of the sea an adverse power was +strengthening and widening, with slow but stedfast growth, full of +blood and muscle--a body without a head. Each had its strength, each +its weakness, each its own modes of vigorous life: but the one was +fruitful, the other barren; the one instinct with hope, the other +darkening with shadows of despair. + +[Footnote 53: From the introduction to "The Pioneers of France in the +New World." Copyright, 1865, 1885, by Francis Parkman. Published by +Little, Brown & Company.] + +By name, local position, and character one of these communities of +freemen stands forth as the most conspicuous representative of this +antagonism--liberty and absolutism, New England and New France. The +one was the offspring of a triumphant government; the other, of an +opprest and fugitive people: the one, an unflinching champion of the +Roman Catholic reaction; the other, a vanguard of the Reform. Each +followed its natural laws of growth, and each came to its natural +results. Vitalized by the principles of its foundation, the Puritan +commonwealth grew apace. New England was preeminently the land of +material progress. Here the prize was within every man's reach; +patient industry need never doubt its reward; nay, in defiance of the +four gospels, assiduity in pursuit of gain was promoted to the rank of +a duty, and thrift and godliness were linked in equivocal wedlock. +Politically she was free; socially she suffered from that subtile and +searching oppression which the dominant opinion of a free community +may exercise over the members who compose it. As a whole, she grew +upon the gaze of the world, a signal example of expansive energy; but +she has not been fruitful in those salient and striking forms of +character which often give a dramatic life to the annals of nations +far less prosperous. + +We turn to New France, and all is reversed. Here was a bold attempt to +crush under the exactions of a grasping hierarchy, to stifle under the +curbs and trappings of a feudal monarchy a people compassed by +influences of the wildest freedom--whose schools were the forest and +the sea, whose trade was an armed barter with savages, and whose daily +life a lesson of lawless independence. But this fierce spirit had its +vent. The story of New France is from the first a story of war: of +war--for so her founders believed--with the adversary of mankind +himself; war with savage tribes and potent forest commonwealths; war +with the encroaching powers of heresy and of England. Her brave, +unthinking people were stamped with the soldier's virtues and the +soldier's faults; and in their leaders were displayed, on a grand and +novel stage, the energies, aspirations, and passions which belong to +hopes vast and vague, ill-restricted powers, and stations of command. + +The growth of New England was a result of the aggregate efforts of a +busy multitude, each in his narrow circle toiling for himself, to +gather competence or wealth. The expansion of New France was the +achievement of a gigantic ambition striving to grasp a continent. It +was a vain attempt. Long and valiantly her chiefs upheld their cause, +leading to battle a vassal population, warlike as themselves. Borne +down by numbers from without, wasted by corruption from within, New +France fell at last; and out of her fall grew revolutions whose +influence to this hour is felt through every nation of the civilized +world. + +The French dominion is a memory of the past; and when we evoke its +departed shades, they rise upon us from their graves in strange, +romantic guise. Again their ghostly camp-fires seem to burn, and the +fitful light is cast around on lord and vassal and black-robed priest, +mingled with wild forms of savage warriors, knit in close fellowship +on the same stern errand. A boundless vision grows upon us; an untamed +continent; vast wastes of forest verdure; mountains silent in primeval +sleep; river, lake, and glimmering pool; wilderness oceans mingling +with the sky. Such was the domain which France conquered for +civilization. Plumed helmets gleamed in the shade of its forests, +priestly vestments in its dens and fastnesses of ancient barbarism. +Men steeped in antique learning, pale with the close breath of the +cloister, here spent the noon and evening of their lives, ruled savage +hordes with a mild, parental sway, and stood serene before the direst +shapes of death. Men of courtly nurture, heirs to the polish of a +far-reaching ancestry, here, with their dauntless hardihood, put to +shame the boldest sons of toil. + + + + +VI + +THE RETURN OF THE COUREURS-DE-BOIS[54] + + +It was a curious scene when a party of _coureurs de bois_ returned +from their rovings. Montreal was their harboring place, and they +conducted themselves much like the crew of a man-of-war paid off after +a long voyage. As long as their beaver-skins lasted, they set no +bounds to their riot. Every house in the place, we are told, was +turned into a drinking-shop. The newcomers were bedizened with a +strange mixture of French and Indian finery; while some of them, with +instincts more thoroughly savage, stalked about the streets as naked +as a Pottawottamie or a Sioux. The clamor of tongues was prodigious, +and gambling and drinking filled the day and the night. When at last +they were sober again, they sought absolution for their sins; nor +could the priests venture to bear too hard on their unruly penitents, +lest they should break wholly with the church and dispense +thenceforth with her sacraments. + +[Footnote 54: From Chapter XVII of "The Old Regime in Canada." +Copyright, 1874, by Francis Parkman. Published by Little, Brown & Co.] + +Under such leaders as Du Lhut, the _coureurs de bois_ built forts of +palisades at various points throughout the West and Northwest. They +had a post of this sort at Detroit some time before its permanent +settlement, as well as others on Lake Superior and in the valley of +the Mississippi. They occupied them as long as it suited their +purposes, and then abandoned them to the next comer. Michillimackinac +was, however, their chief resort; and thence they would set out, two +or three together, to roam for hundreds of miles through the endless +meshwork of interlocking lakes and rivers which seams the northern +wilderness. + +No wonder that a year or two of bushranging spoiled them for +civilization. Tho not a very valuable member of society, and tho a +thorn in the side of princes and rulers, the _coureur de bois_ had his +uses, at least from an artistic point of view; and his strange figure, +sometimes brutally savage, but oftener marked with the lines of a +daredevil courage, and a reckless, thoughtless gaiety, will always be +joined to the memories of that grand world of woods which the +nineteenth century is fast civilizing out of existence. At least, he +is picturesque, and with his redskin companion serves to animate +forest scenery. Perhaps he could sometimes feel, without knowing that +he felt them, the charms of the savage nature that had adopted him. + +Rude as he was, her voice may not always have been meaningless for one +who knew her haunts so well; deep recesses where, veiled in foliage, +some wild shy rivulet steals with timid music through breathless caves +of verdure; gulfs where feathered crags rise like castle walls, where +the noonday sun pierces with keen rays athwart the torrent, and the +mossed arms of fallen pines cast wavering shadows on the illumined +foam; pools of liquid crystal turned emerald in the reflected green of +impending woods; rocks on whose rugged front the gleam of sunlit +waters dances in quivering light; ancient trees hurled headlong by the +storm to dam the raging stream with their forlorn and savage ruin; or +the stern depths of immemorial forests, dim and silent as a cavern, +columned with innumerable trunks, each like an Atlas upholding its +world of leaves, and sweating perpetual moisture down its dark and +channelled rind; some strong in youth, some grisly with decrepit age, +nightmares of strange distortion, gnarled and knotted with wens and +goitres; roots intertwined beneath like serpents petrified in an agony +of contorted strife; green and glistening mosses carpeting the rough +ground, mantling the rocks, turning pulpy stumps to mounds of verdure, +and swathing fallen trunks as, bent in the impotence of rottenness, +they lie outstretched over knoll and hollow, like moldering reptiles +of the primeval world, while around, and on and through them, springs +the young growth that fattens on their decay--the forest devouring its +own dead. Or, to turn from its funereal shade to the light and life of +the open woodland, the sheen of sparkling lakes, and mountains basking +in the glory of the summer noon, flecked by the shadows of passing +clouds that sail on snowy wings across the azure. + +Yet it would be false coloring to paint the half-savage _coureur de +bois_ as a romantic lover of nature. He liked the woods because they +emancipated him from restraint. He liked the lounging ease of the +camp-fire, and the license of Indian villages. His life has a dark and +ugly side. + + + + +GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS + + Born in 1824, died in 1892; joined the Brook Farm Community; + traveled in Europe in 1846-50; became connected with the New + York _Tribune_ in 1850; editor of _Putnam's Monthly_ in + 1852-57, with _Harper's Magazine_ in 1854, and with + _Harper's Weekly_ in 1863; prominent advocate of civil + service reform, being one of the commissioners appointed by + President Grant in 1871, but resigned on account of + differences with the President; president of the State Civil + Service League in 1880, and of the National Civil Service + Reform League afterward until his death; published "Nile + Notes of a Howadji" in 1851, "Lotus Eating" in 1852, + "Potiphar Papers" in 1853, "Prue and I" in 1856. + + + + +OUR COUSIN THE CURATE[55] + + +Our cousin the curate loved, while he was yet a boy, Flora, of the +sparkling eyes and the ringing voice. His devotion was absolute. Flora +was flattered, because all the girls, as I said, worshiped him; but +she was a gay, glancing girl, who had invaded the student's heart with +her audacious brilliancy, and was half-surprized that she had subdued +it. Our cousin--for I never think of him as my cousin only--wasted +away under the fervor of his passion. His life exhaled an incense +before her. He wrote poems to her, and sang them under her window, in +the summer moonlight. He brought her flowers and precious gifts. When +he had nothing else to give, he gave her his love in a homage so +eloquent and beautiful that the worship was like the worship of the +wise men. The gay Flora was proud and superb. She was a girl, and the +bravest and best boy loved her. She was young, and the wisest and +truest youth loved her. They lived together, we all lived together, in +the happy valley of childhood. We looked forward to manhood as +island-poets look across the sea, believing that the whole world +beyond is a blest Araby of spices. + +[Footnote 55: From Chapter VII of "Prue and I."] + +The months went by, and the young love continued. Our cousin and Flora +were only children still, and there was no engagement. The elders +looked upon the intimacy as natural and mutually beneficial. It would +help soften the boy and strengthen the girl; and they took for granted +that softness and strength were precisely what were wanted. It is a +great pity that men and women forget that they have been children. +Parents are apt to be foreigners to their sons and daughters. Maturity +is the gate of paradise, which shuts behind us; and our memories are +gradually weaned from the glories in which our nativity was cradled. + +The months went by, the children grew older, and they constantly +loved. Now Prue always smiles at one of my theories; she is entirely +skeptical of it; but it is, nevertheless, my opinion that men love +most passionately, and women most permanently. Men love at first and +most warmly; women love last and longest. This is natural enough; for +nature makes women to be won, and men to win. Men are the active, +positive force, and therefore, they are more ardent and +demonstrative.... + +Why our cousin should have loved the gay Flora so ardently was hard to +say; but that he did so, was not difficult to see. He went away to +college. He wrote the most eloquent and passionate letters; and when +he returned in vacations, he had no eyes, ears, nor heart for any +other being. I rarely saw him, for I was living away from our early +home, and was busy in a store--learning to be bookkeeper--but I heard +afterward from himself the whole story. + +One day when he came home for the holidays, he found a young foreigner +with Flora--a handsome youth, brilliant and graceful. I have asked +Prue a thousand times why women adore soldiers and foreigners. She +says it is because they love heroism and are romantic. A soldier is +professionally a hero, says Prue, and a foreigner is associated with +all unknown and beautiful regions. I hope there is no worse reason.... + +Our cousin came home and found Flora and the young foreigner +conversing. The young foreigner had large, soft, black eyes, and the +dusky skin of the tropics. His manner was languid and fascinating, +courteous and reserved. It assumed a natural supremacy, and you felt +as if here were a young prince traveling before he came into +possession of his realm.... + +Our cousin the curate no sooner saw the tropical stranger and marked +his impression upon Flora than he felt the end. As the shaft struck +his heart, his smile was sweeter, and his homage even more poetic and +reverential. I doubt if Flora understood him or herself. She did not +know, what he instinctively perceived, that she loved him less. But +there are no degrees in love; when it is less than absolute and +supreme, it is nothing. Our cousin and Flora were not formally +engaged, but their betrothal was understood by all of us as a thing of +course. He did not allude to the stranger; but as day followed day, he +saw with every nerve all that passed. Gradually--so gradually that she +scarcely noticed it--our cousin left Flora more and more with the +soft-eyed stranger, whom he saw she preferred. His treatment of her +was so full of tact, he still walked and talked with her so familiarly +that she was not troubled by any fear that he saw what she hardly saw +herself. Therefore, she was not obliged to conceal anything from him +or from herself; but all the soft currents of her heart were setting +toward the West Indian. Our cousin's cheek grew paler, and his soul +burned and wasted within him. His whole future--all his dream of +life--had been founded upon his love. It was a stately palace built +upon the sand, and now the sand was sliding away. I have read +somewhere that love will sacrifice everything but itself. But our +cousin sacrificed his love to the happiness of his mistress. He ceased +to treat her as peculiarly his own. He made no claim in word or manner +that everybody might not have made. He did not refrain from seeing +her, or speaking of her as of all his other friends; and, at length, +altho no one could say how or when the change had been made, it was +evident and understood that he was no more her lover, but that both +were the best of friends. + +He still wrote to her occasionally from college, and his letters were +those of a friend, not of a lover. He could not reproach her. I do +not believe any man is secretly surprized that a woman ceases to love +him. Her love is a heavenly favor won by no desert of his. If it +passes, he can no more complain than a flower when the sunshine leaves +it. + +Before our cousin left college Flora was married to the tropical +stranger. It was the brightest of June days, and the summer smiled +upon the bride. There were roses in her hand and orange flowers in her +hair, and the village church bell rang out over the peaceful fields. +The warm sunshine lay upon the landscape like God's blessing, and Prue +and I, not yet married ourselves, stood at an open window in the old +meeting-house, hand in hand, while the young couple spoke their vows. +Prue says that brides are always beautiful, and I, who remember Prue +herself upon her wedding-day--how can I deny it? Truly, the gay Flora +was lovely that summer morning, and the throng was happy in the old +church. But it was very sad to me, altho I only suspected then what +now I know. I shed no tears at my own wedding, but I did at Flora's, +altho I knew she was marrying a soft-eyed youth whom she dearly loved, +and who, I doubt not, dearly loved her. + +Among the group of her nearest friends was our cousin the curate. When +the ceremony was ended, he came to shake her hand with the rest. His +face was calm, and his smile sweet, and his manner unconstrained. +Flora did not blush--why should she?--but shook his hand warmly, and +thanked him for his good wishes. Then they all sauntered down the +aisle together; there were some tears with the smiles among the other +friends; our cousin handed the bride into her carriage, shook hands +with the husband, closed the door, and Flora drove away. + +I have never seen her since; I do not even know if she be living +still. But I shall always remember her as she looked that June +morning, holding roses in her hand, and wreathed with orange flowers. +Dear Flora! it was no fault of hers that she loved one man more than +another: she could not be blamed for not preferring our cousin to the +West Indian: there is no fault in the story, it is only a tragedy. + +Our cousin carried all the collegiate honors--but without exciting +jealousy or envy. He was so really the best, that his companions were +anxious he should have the sign of his superiority. He studied hard, +he thought much, and wrote well. There was no evidence of any blight +upon his ambition or career, but after living quietly in the country +for some time, he went to Europe and traveled. When he returned, he +resolved to study law, but presently relinquished it. Then he +collected materials for a history, but suffered them to lie unused. +Somehow the mainspring was gone. He used to come and pass weeks with +Prue and me. His coming made the children happy, for he sat with them, +and talked and played with them all day long, as one of themselves.... + +At length our cousin went abroad again to Europe. It was many years +ago that we watched him sail away, and when Titbottom, and Prue, and I +went home to dinner, the grace that was said that day was a fervent +prayer for our cousin the curate. Many an evening afterward, the +children wanted him, and cried themselves to sleep calling upon his +name. Many an evening still our talk flags into silence as we sit +before the fire, and Prue puts down her knitting and takes my hand, as +if she knew my thoughts, altho we do not name his name. + +He wrote us letters as he wandered about the world. They were +affectionate letters, full of observation, and thought, and +description. He lingered longest in Italy, but he said his conscience +accused him of yielding to the sirens; and he declared that his life +was running uselessly away. At last he came to England. He was charmed +with everything, and the climate was even kinder to him than that of +Italy. He went to all the famous places, and saw many of the famous +Englishmen, and wrote that he felt England to be his home. Burying +himself in the ancient gloom of a university town, altho past the +prime of life, he studied like an ambitious boy. He said again that +his life had been wine poured upon the ground, and he felt guilty. And +so our cousin became a curate.... + +Our children have forgotten their old playmate; but I am sure if there +be any children in his parish, over the sea, they love our cousin the +curate, and watch eagerly for his coming. Does his step falter now, I +wonder; is that long fair hair gray; is that laugh as musical in those +distant homes as it used to be in our nursery; has England among all +her great and good men any man so noble as our cousin the curate? + +The great book is unwritten; the great deeds are undone; in no +biographical dictionary will you find the name of our cousin the +curate. Is his life therefore lost? Have his powers been wasted? + +I do not dare to say it, for I see Bourne on the pinnacle of +prosperity, but still looking sadly for his castles in Spain; I see +Titbottom, an old deputy bookkeeper, whom nobody knows, but with his +chivalric heart loyal to children, his generous and humane spirit, +full of sweet hope and faith and devotion; I see the superb Auriel, so +lovely that the Indians would call her a smile of the Great Spirit, +and as beneficent as a saint of the calendar--how shall I say what is +lost and what is won. I know that in every way and by all His +preachers God is served and His purposes accomplished. How shall I +explain or understand? I, who am only an old bookkeeper in an old +cravat. + + + + +ARTEMUS WARD + + Born in 1834, died in England in 1867; his real name Charles + Farrar Browne; noted as a humorous lecturer here and in + England; published "Artemus Ward: His Book" in 1862; + "Artemus Ward: His Travels" in 1865; "Artemus Ward in + London" in 1867. + + + + +FORREST AS OTHELLO[56] + + +Durin a recent visit to New York the undersined went to see Edwin +Forrest. As I am into the moral show biziness myself I ginrally go to +Barnum's moral museum, where only moral peeple air admitted, partickly +on Wednesday arternoons. But this time I thot I'd go and see Ed. Ed +has bin actin out on the stage for many years. There is varis 'pinions +about his actin, Englishmen ginrally bleevin that he's far superior to +Mister Macready; but on one pint all agree, & that is that Ed draws +like a six-ox team. Ed was actin at Niblo's Garding, which looks +considerable more like a parster than a garding, but let that pars. I +sot down in the pit, took out my spectacles and commenced peroosin the +evenin's bill. The awjince was all-fired large & the boxes was full of +the elitty of New York. Several opery glasses was leveled at me by +Gotham's fairest darters, but I didn't let on as tho I noticed it, tho +mebby I did take out my sixteen-dollar silver watch & brandish it +round more than was necessary. But the best of us has our weaknesses & +if a man has gewelry let him show it. As I was peroosin the bill a +grave young man who sot near me axed me if I'd ever seen Forrest +dance the Essence of Old Virginny, "He's immense in that," sed the +young man. "He also does a fair champion jig," the young man +continnered, "but his Big Thing is the Essence of Old Virginny." Sez +I, "Fair youth, do you know what I'd do with you if you was my sun?" + +[Footnote 56: From "Artemus Ward: His Book."] + +"No," sez he. + +"Wall," sez I, "I'd appint your funeral to-morrow arternoon, & the +_korps should be ready_. You're too smart to live on this yerth." + +He didn't try any more of his capers on me. But another pussylanermuss +individooul in a red vest and patent leather boots told me his name +was Bill Astor & axed me to lend him 50 cents till early in the +mornin. I told him I'd probly send it round to him before he retired +to his virtoous couch, but if I didn't he might look for it next fall +as soon as I'd cut my corn. + +The orchestry was now fiddling with all their might & as the peeple +didn't understan anything about it they applaudid versifrusly. +Presently old Ed cum out. The play was Otheller or More of Veniss. +Otheller was writ by Wm. Shakspeer. The seene is laid in Veniss. +Otheller was a likely man & was a ginral in the Veniss army. He eloped +with Desdemony, a darter of the Hon. Mr. Brabantio who represented one +of the back districks in the Veneshun legislater. Old Brabantio was as +mad as thunder at this & tore round considerable, but finally cooled +down, telling Otheller, howsoever, that Desdemony had come it over her +par, & that he had better look out or she'd come it over him +likewise. + +Mr. and Mrs. Otheller git along very comfortable-like for a spell. She +is sweet-tempered and lovin--a nice, sensible female, never goin in +for he-female conventions, green cotton umbrellers, and pickled beats. +Otheller is a good provider and thinks all the world of his wife. She +has a lazy time of it, the hird girl doin all the cookin and washin. +Desdemony in fact don't have to git the water to wash her own hands +with. But a low cuss named Iago, who I bleeve wants to git Otheller +out of his snug government birth, now goes to work & upsets the +Otheller family in most outrajus stile. Iago falls in with a brainless +youth named Roderigo & wins all his money at poker. (Iago allers +played foul.) He thus got money enuff to carry out his onprincipled +skeem. Mike Cassio, a Irishman, is selected as a tool by Iago. Mike +was a clever feller & a orficer in Otheller's army. He liked his tods +too well, howsoever, & they floored him as they have many other +promisin young men. Iago injuces Mike to drink with him, Iago slily +throwin his whiskey over his shoulder. Mike gits as drunk as a biled +owl & allows that he can lick a yard full of the Veneshun fancy before +breakfast, without sweating a hair. He meets Roderigo & proceeds for +to smash him. A feller named Mentano undertakes to slap Cassio, when +that infatooated person runs his sword into him. + +That miserble man, Iago, pretends to be very sorry to see Mike conduck +hisself in this way & undertakes to smooth the thing over to Otheller, +who rushes in with a drawn sword & wants to know what's up. Iago +cunningly tells his story & Otheller tells Mike that he thinks a good +deal of him but that he cant train no more in his regiment. Desdemony +sympathizes with poor Mike & interceds for him with Otheller. Iago +makes him bleeve she does this because she thinks more of Mike than +she does of hisself. Otheller swallers Iagos lying tail & goes to +makin a noosence of hisself ginrally. He worries poor Desdemony +terrible by his vile insinuations & finally smothers her to death with +a piller. Mrs. Iago comes in just as Otheller has finished the fowl +deed & givs him fits right & left, showin him that he has been orfully +gulled by her miserble cuss of a husband. Iago cums in & his wife +commences rakin him down also, when he stabs her. Otheller jaws him a +spell & then cuts a small hole in his stummick with his sword. Iago +pints to Desdemony's deth bed & goes orf with a sardonic smile onto +his countenance. Otheller tells the peeple that he has dun the state +some service & they know it; axes them to do as fair a thing as they +can for him under the circumstances, & kills hisself with a +fish-knife, which is the most sensible thing he can do. This is a +breef skedule of the synopsis of the play. + +Edwin Forrest is a grate acter. I thot I saw Otheller before me all +the time he was actin &, when the curtin fell, I found my spectacles +was still mistened with salt-water, which had run from my eyes while +poor Desdemony was dyin. Betsy Jane--Betsy Jane! let us pray that our +domestic bliss may never be busted up by a Iago! + +Edwin Forrest makes money acting out on the stage. He gits five +hundred dollars a nite & his board & washin. I wish I had such a +Forrest in my Garding! + + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH + + Born in 1836; died in 1908; a literary man in New York in + early life; removing to Boston, became editor of _Every + Saturday_ in 1870-74; editor of the _Atlantic Monthly_ in + 1881-1890; among his works "The Ballad of Babie Bell" + published in 1856, "Cloth of Gold" in 1874, "Flower and + Thorn" in 1876, "Story of a Bad Boy" in 1870, "Marjorie Daw" + in 1873, "Prudence Palfrey" in 1874, "The Queen of Sheba" in + 1877, "The Stillwater Tragedy" in 1880, "From Ponkapog to + Pesth" in 1883, "The Sister's Tragedy" in 1891. + + + + +I + +A SUNRISE IN STILLWATER[57] + + +It is close upon daybreak. The great wall of pines and hemlocks that +keep off the east wind from Stillwater stretches black and +indeterminate against the sky. At intervals a dull, metallic sound, +like the guttural twang of a violin string, rises from the +frog-invested swamp skirting the highway. Suddenly the birds stir in +their nests over there in the woodland, and break into that wild +jargoning chorus with which they herald the advent of a new day. In +the apple orchards and among the plum-trees of the few gardens in +Stillwater the wrens and the robins and the blue-jays catch up the +crystal crescendo, and what a melodious racket they make of it with +their fifes and flutes and flageolets! + +[Footnote 57: From Chapter I of "The Stillwater Tragedy." Copyright, +1880, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Published by Houghton, Mifflin +Company.] + +The village lies in a trance like death. Possibly not a soul hears +this music, unless it is the watchers at the bedside of Mr. Leonard +Tappleton, the richest man in town, who has lain dying these three +days, and can not last till sunrise. Or perhaps some mother, drowsily +hushing her wakeful baby, pauses a moment and listens vacantly to the +birds singing. But who else? + +The hubbub suddenly ceases--ceases as suddenly as it began--and all is +still again in the woodland. But it is not so dark as before. A faint +glow of white light is discernible behind the ragged line of the tree +tops. The deluge of darkness is receding from the face of the earth, +as the mighty waters receded of old. + +The roofs and tall factory chimneys of Stillwater are slowly taking +shape in the gloom. Is that a cemetery coming into view yonder, with +its ghostly architecture of obelisks and broken columns and huddled +headstones? No, that is only Slocum's marble yard, with the finished +and unfinished work heaped up like snowdrifts--a cemetery in embryo. +Here and there in an outlying farm a lantern glimmers in the +barn-yard: the cattle are having their fodder betimes. Scarlet-capped +chanticleer gets himself on the nearest rail fence and lifts up his +rancorous voice like some irate old cardinal launching the curse of +Rome. Something crawls swiftly along the gray of the serpentine +turnpike--a cart, with the driver lashing a jaded horse. A quick wind +goes shivering by, and is lost in the forest. + +Now a narrow strip of two-colored gold stretches along the horizon. + +Stillwater is gradually coming to its senses. The sun has begun to +twinkle on the gilt cross of the Catholic chapel and make itself known +to the doves in the stone belfry on the South Church. The patches of +cobweb that here and there cling tremulously to the coarse grass of +the inundated meadows have turned into silver nets, and the +mill-pond--it will be steel-blue later--is as smooth and white as if +it had been paved with one vast unbroken slab out of Slocum's marble +yard. Through a row of buttonwoods on the northern skirt of the +village is seen a square, lap-streaked building, painted a +disagreeable brown, and surrounded on three sides by a platform--one +of seven or eight similar stations strung like Indian beads on a +branch thread of the Great Sagamore Railway. + +Listen! That is the jingle of the bells on the baker's cart as it +begins its rounds. From innumerable chimneys the curled smoke gives +evidence that the thrifty housewife--or, what is rarer in Stillwater, +the hired girl--has lighted the kitchen fire. + +The chimney-stack of one house at the end of a small court--the last +house on the easterly edge of the village, and standing quite +alone--sends up no smoke. Yet the carefully trained ivy over the +porch, and the lemon verbena in a tub at the foot of the steps, +intimate that the place is not unoccupied. Moreover, the little +schooner which acts as weathercock on one of the gables, and is now +heading due west, has a new topsail. It is a story-and-a-half cottage, +with a large expanse of roof, which, covered with porous, unpainted +shingles, seems to repel the sunshine that now strikes full upon it. +The upper and lower blinds on the main building, as well as those on +the extensions, are tightly closed. The sun appears to beat in vain at +the casements of this silent house, which has a curiously sullen and +defiant air, as if it had desperately and successfully barricaded +itself against the approach of morning; yet if one were standing in +the room that leads from the bedchamber on the ground floor--the room +with the latticed window--one would see a ray of light thrust through +a chink of the shutters, and pointing like a human finger at an object +which lies by the hearth. + +This finger, gleaming, motionless, and awful in its precision, points +to the body of old Mr. Lemuel Shackford, who lies there dead in his +night-dress, with a gash across his forehead. + +In the darkness of that summer night a deed darker than the night +itself had been done in Stillwater. + + + + +II + +THE FIGHT AT SLATTER'S HILL[58] + + +The memory of man, even that of the oldest inhabitant runneth not back +to the time when there did not exist a feud between the North End and +the South End boys of Rivermouth. + +[Footnote 58: From Chapter XIII of "The Story of a Bad Boy." +Copyright, 1869, 1877, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Published by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +The origin of the feud is involved in mystery; it is impossible to say +which party was the first aggressor in the far-off anterevolutionary ages; +but the fact remains that the youngsters of those antipodal sections +entertained a mortal hatred for each other, and that this hatred had been +handed down from generation to generation, like Miles Standish's +punch-bowl. + +I know not what laws, natural or unnatural, regulated the warmth of +the quarrel; but at some seasons it raged more violently than at +others. This winter both parties were unusually lively and +antagonistic. Great was the wrath of the South-Enders when they +discovered that the North-Enders had thrown up a fort on the crown of +Slatter's Hill. + +Slatter's Hill, or No-man's-land, as it was generally called, was a +rise of ground covering, perhaps, an acre and a quarter, situated on +an imaginary line marking the boundary between the two districts. An +immense stratum of granite, which here and there thrust out a wrinkled +boulder, prevented the site from being used for building purposes. The +street ran on either side of the hill, from one part of which a +quantity of rock had been removed to form the underpinning of the new +jail. This excavation made the approach from that point all but +impossible, especially when the ragged ledges were a-glitter with ice. +You see what a spot it was for a snow-fort. + +One evening twenty or thirty of the North-Enders quietly took +possession of Slatter's Hill, and threw up a strong line of +breastworks. The rear of the entrenchment, being protected by the +quarry, was left open. The walls were four feet high, and twenty-two +inches thick, strengthened at the angles by stakes driven firmly into +the ground. + +Fancy the rage of the South-Enders the next day, when they spied our +snowy citadel, with Jack Harris's red silk pocket-handkerchief +floating defiantly from the flagstaff. + +In less than an hour it was known all over town, in military circles +at least, that the "puddle-dockers" and the "river-rats" (these were +the derisive sub-titles bestowed on our South End foes) intended to +attack the fort that Saturday afternoon. + +At two o'clock all the fighting boys of the Temple Grammar School, and +as many recruits as we could muster, lay behind the walls of Fort +Slatter, with three hundred compact snowballs piled up in pyramids, +awaiting the approach of the enemy. The enemy was not slow in making +his approach--fifty strong, headed by one Mat Ames. Our forces were +under the command of General J. Harris. + +Before the action commenced a meeting was arranged between the rival +commanders, who drew up and signed certain rules and regulations +respecting the conduct of the battle. As it was impossible for the +North-Enders to occupy the fort permanently, it was stipulated that +the South-Enders should assault it only on Wednesday and Saturday +afternoons between the hours of two and six. For them to take +possession of the place at any other time was not to constitute a +capture, but, on the contrary, was to be considered a dishonorable and +cowardly act. + +The North-Enders, on the other hand, agreed to give up the fort +whenever ten of the storming party succeeded in obtaining at one time +a footing on the parapet, and were able to hold the same for the space +of two minutes. Both sides were to abstain from putting pebbles into +their snowballs, nor was it permissible to use frozen ammunition. A +snowball soaked in water and left out to cool was a projectile which +in previous years had been resorted to with disastrous results. + +These preliminaries settled, the commanders retired to their +respective corps. The interview had taken place on the hillside +between the opposing lines. + +General Harris divided his men into two bodies; the first comprized +the most skilful marksmen, or gunners; the second, the reserve force, +was composed of the strongest boys, whose duty it was to repel the +scaling parties, and to make occasional sallies for the purpose of +capturing prisoners, who were bound by the articles of treaty to +faithfully serve under our flag until they were exchanged at the close +of the day. + +The repellers were called light infantry; but when they carried on the +operations beyond the fort they became cavalry. It was also their +duty, when not otherwise engaged, to manufacture snowballs. The +General's staff consisted of five Templars (I among the number, with +the rank of major), who carried the General's orders and looked after +the wounded. + +General Mat Ames, a veteran commander, was no less wide-awake in the +disposition of his army. Five companies, each numbering but six men, +in order not to present too big a target to our sharpshooters, were +to charge the fort from different points, their advance being covered +by a heavy fire from the gunners posted in the rear. Each scaler was +provided with only two rounds of ammunition, which were not to be used +until he had mounted the breastwork and could deliver his shots on our +heads. + +The thrilling moment had now arrived. If I had been going into a real +engagement I could not have been more deeply imprest by the importance +of the occasion. + +The fort opened fire first--a single ball from the dextrous hand of +General Harris taking General Ames in the very pit of his stomach. A +cheer went up from Fort Slatter. In an instant the air was thick with +flying missiles, in the midst of which we dimly descried the storming +parties sweeping up the hill, shoulder to shoulder. The shouts of the +leaders, and the snowballs bursting like shells about our ears made it +very lively. + +Not more than a dozen of the enemy succeeded in reaching the crest of +the hill; five of these clambered upon the icy walls, where they were +instantly grabbed by the legs and jerked into the fort. The rest +retired confused and blinded by our well-directed fire. + +When General Harris (with his right eye bunged up) said, "Soldiers, I +am proud of you!" my heart swelled in my bosom. + +The victory, however, had not been without its price. Six +North-Enders, having rushed out to harass the discomfited enemy, were +gallantly cut off by General Ames and captured. Among these were +Lieutenant P. Whitcomb (who had no business to join in the charge, +being weak in the knees) and Captain Fred Langdon, of General Harris's +staff. Whitcomb was one of the most notable shots on our side, tho he +was not much to boast of in a rough-and-tumble fight, owing to the +weakness before mentioned. General Ames put him among the gunners, and +we were quickly made aware of the loss we had sustained by receiving a +frequent artful ball which seemed to light with unerring instinct on +any nose that was the least bit exposed. I have known one of Pepper's +snowballs, fired point-blank, to turn a corner and hit a boy who +considered himself absolutely safe. + +But we had no time for vain regrets. The battle raged. Already there +were two bad cases of black eye, and one of nose-bleed, in the +hospital. + +It was glorious excitement, those pell-mell onslaughts and +hand-to-hand struggles. Twice we were within an ace of being driven +from our stronghold, when General Harris and his staff leapt +recklessly upon the ramparts and hurled the besiegers heels over head +down hill. + +At sunset the garrison of Fort Slatter was still unconquered, and the +South-Enders, in a solid phalanx, marched off whistling "Yankee +Doodle," while we cheered and jeered them until they were out of +hearing. + + + + +III + +ON RETURNING FROM EUROPE[59] + + +This page will be wafted possibly through a snow-storm to the reader's +hand; but it is written while a few red leaves are still clinging to +the maple bough, and the last steamer of the year from across the +ocean has not yet discharged on our shores the final cargo of +returning summer tourists. How glad they will be, like those who came +over in previous ships, to sight that fantomish, white strip of Yankee +land called Sandy Hook! It is thinking of them that I write. + +[Footnote 59: From Chapter IX of "From Ponkapog to Pesth." Copyright, +1883, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Published by Houghton, Mifflin +Company.] + +Some one--that anonymous person who is always saying the wisest and +most delightful things just as you are on the point of saying them +yourself--has remarked that one of the greatest pleasures of foreign +travel is to get home again. But no one--that irresponsible person +forever to blame in railway accidents, but whom, on the whole, I +vastly prefer to his garrulous relative quoted above--no one, I +repeat, has pointed out the composite nature of this pleasure, or +named the ingredient in it which gives the chief charm to this getting +back. It is pleasant to feel the pressure of friendly hands once more; +it is pleasant to pick up the threads of occupation which you dropt +abruptly, or perhaps neatly knotted together and carefully laid away, +just before you stept on board the steamer; it is very pleasant, when +the summer experience has been softened and sublimated by time, to sit +of a winter night by the cheery wood fire, or even at the register, +since one must make one's self comfortable in so humiliating a +fashion, and let your fancy wander back in the old footprints; to form +your thoughts into happy summer pilgrims, and dispatch them to Arles +or Nuremberg, or up the vine-clad heights of Monte Cassino, or embark +them at Vienna for a cruise down the swift Danube to Budapest. But in +none of these things lies the subtle charm I wish to indicate. It lies +in the refreshing, short-lived pleasure of being able to look at your +own land with the eyes of an alien; to see novelty blossoming on the +most commonplace and familiar stems; to have the old manner and the +threadbare old custom to present themselves to you as absolutely +new--or if not new, at least strange. + +After you have escaped from the claws of the custom-house +officers--who are not nearly as affable birds as you once thought +them--and are rattling in an oddly familiar hack through well-known +but half-unrecognizable streets, you are struck by something comical +in the names on the shop signs--are American names comical, as +Englishmen seem to think?--by the strange fashion of the iron +lamp-post at the corner, by peculiarities in the architecture, which +you ought to have noticed, but never did notice until now. The candid +incivility of the coachman, who does not touch his hat to you, but +swears at you, has the vague charm of reminiscence. You regard him as +the guests regarded the poor relation at table in Lamb's essay; you +have an impression that you have seen him somewhere before. The truth +is, for the first time in your existence, you have a full, +unprejudiced look at the shell of the civilization from which you +emerged when you went abroad. Is it a pretty shell? Is it a +satisfactory shell? Not entirely. It has strange excrescences and +blotches on it. But it is a shell worth examining; it is the best you +can ever have; and it is expedient to study it very carefully the two +or three weeks immediately following your return to it, for your +privilege of doing so is of the briefest tenure. Some precious things +you do not lose, but your newly acquired vision fails you shortly. +Suddenly, while you are comparing, valuing, and criticizing, the old +scales fall over your eyes, you insensibly slip back into the +well-worn grooves, and behold all outward and most inward things in +nearly the same light as your untraveled neighbor, who has never known + + "The glory that was Greece + And the grandeur that was Rome." + +You will have to go abroad again to renew those magical spectacles +which enabled you for a few weeks to see your native land. + + + + +WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + + Born in Ohio in 1837; consul to Venice in 1861-65; editor of + _The Atlantic Monthly_ in 1871-81; associate editor of + _Harper's Magazine_ since 1886; among his many works, + "Venetian Life" published in 1866, "Italian Journeys" in + 1869, "Poems" in 1867, "Their Wedding Journey" in 1872, "A + Chance Acquaintance" in 1873, "The Lady of the Aroostook" in + 1875, "The Undiscovered Country" in 1880, "A Modern + Instance" in 1882, "Silas Lapham" in 1885, "Annie Kilburn" + in 1888. + + + + +TO ALBANY BY THE NIGHT BOAT[60] + + +There is little proportion about either pain or pleasure: a headache +darkens the universe while it lasts, a cup of tea really lightens the +spirit bereft of all reasonable consolation. Therefore I do not think +it trivial or untrue to say that there is for the moment nothing more +satisfactory in life than to have bought your ticket on the night boat +up the Hudson and secured your stateroom key an hour or two before +departure, and some time even before the pressure at the clerk's +office has begun. In the transaction with this castellated baron, you +have, of course, been treated with haughtiness, but not with ferocity, +and your self-respect swells with a sense of having escaped positive +insult; your key clicks cheerfully in your pocket against its +gutta-percha number, and you walk up and down the gorgeously +carpeted, single-columned, two-story cabin, amid a multitude of plush +sofas and chairs, a glitter of glass, and a tinkle of prismatic +chandeliers overhead, unawed even by the aristocratic gloom of the +yellow waiters. Your own stateroom, as you enter it from time to time, +is an ever new surprize of splendors, a magnificent effect of +amplitude, of mahogany bedstead, of lace curtains, and of marble topt +washstand. In the mere wantonness of an unalloyed prosperity you say +to the saffron nobleman nearest your door, "Bring me a pitcher of +ice-water, quick, please!" and you do not find the half-hour that he +is gone very long. + +[Footnote 60: From Chapter III of "Their Wedding Journey." Copyright, +1871, 1888, Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +If the ordinary wayfarer experiences so much pleasure from these +things, then imagine the infinite comfort of our wedding journeyers, +transported from Broadway on that pitiless afternoon to the shelter +and the quiet of that absurdly palatial steamboat. It was not yet +crowded, and by the river-side there was almost a freshness in the +air. They disposed of their troubling bags and packages; they +complimented the ridiculous princeliness of their stateroom, and then +they betook themselves to the sheltered space aft of the saloon, where +they sat down for the tranquiller observance of the wharf and whatever +should come to be seen by them. Like all people who have just escaped +with their lives from some menacing calamity, they were very +philosophical in spirit; and having got aboard of their own motion, +and being neither of them apparently the worse for the ordeal they had +passed through, were of a light, conversational temper. + +"What an amusingly superb affair!" Basil cried as they glanced through +an open window down the long vista of the saloon. "Good heavens! +Isabel, does it take all this to get us plain republicans to Albany in +comfort and safety, or are we really a nation of princes in disguise? +Well, I shall never be satisfied with less hereafter," he added. "I am +spoiled for ordinary paint and upholstery from this hour; I am a +ruinous spendthrift, and a humble three-story swell-front up at the +South End is no longer the place for me. Dearest, + + 'Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,' + +never to leave this Aladdin's-palace-like steamboat, but spend our +lives in perpetual trips up and down the Hudson." + +To which not very costly banter Isabel responded in kind, and rapidly +sketched the life they could lead aboard. Since they could not help +it, they mocked the public provision which, leaving no interval +between disgraceful squalor and ludicrous splendor, accommodates our +democratic menage to the taste of the richest and most extravagant +plebeian amongst us. He, unhappily, minds danger and oppression as +little as he minds money, so long as he has a spectacle and a +sensation, and it is this ruthless imbecile who will have lace +curtains to the steamboat berth into which he gets with his pantaloons +on, and out of which he may be blown by an exploding boiler at any +moment; it is he who will have for supper that overgrown and shapeless +dinner in the lower saloon, and will not let any one else buy tea or +toast for a less sum than he pays for his surfeit; it is he who +perpetuates the insolence of the clerk and the reluctance of the +waiters; it is he, in fact, who now comes out of the saloon, with his +womenkind, and takes chairs under the awning where Basil and Isabel +sit. Personally, he is not so bad; he is good-looking, like all of us; +he is better drest than most of us; he behaves himself quietly, if not +easily; and no lord so loathes a scene. Next year he is going to +Europe, where he will not show to so much advantage as here; but for +the present it would be hard to say in what way he is vulgar, and +perhaps vulgarity is not so common a thing after all. + + + + +JOHN HAY + + Born in Indiana in 1838, died in 1905; graduated from Brown + University in 1858; admitted to the bar in Illinois; one of + the private secretaries of President Lincoln; secretary of + Legation in Paris, Madrid and Vienna; Assistant Secretary of + State in 1879-81; president of the International Sanitary + Commission in 1891; ambassador to England in 1897-98; + Secretary of State in 1898; author of "Castilian Days," + published in 1871, "Pike County Ballads" in 1871, "Abraham + Lincoln: a History," in collaboration with John G. Nicolay + in 1890. + + + + +LINCOLN'S EARLY FAME[61] + + +His death seemed to have marked a step in the education of the people +everywhere. It requires years, perhaps centuries, to build the +structure of a reputation which rests upon the opinion of those +distinguished for learning or intelligence; the progress of opinion +from the few to the many is slow and painful. But in the case of +Lincoln the many imposed their opinion all at once; he was canonized, +as he lay on his bier, by the irresistible decree of countless +millions. The greater part of the aristocracy of England thought +little of him; but the burst of grief from the English people silenced +in an instant every discordant voice. It would have been as imprudent +to speak slightingly of him in London as it was in New York. +Especially among the Dissenters was honor and reverence shown to his +name. The humbler people instinctively felt that their order had lost +its wisest champion. + +[Footnote 61: From Volume X, Chapter XVIII, of "Abraham Lincoln: a +History." Copyright, 1886, 1890, by John G. Nicolay and John Hay. +Published by the Century Co.] + +Not only among those of Saxon blood was this outburst of emotion seen. +In France a national manifestation took place, which the government +disliked but did not think it wise to suppress. The students of Paris +marched in a body to the American Legation to express their sympathy. +A two-cent subscription was started to strike a massive gold medal; +the money was soon raised, but the committee was forced to have the +work done in Switzerland. A committee of French liberals brought the +medal to the American minister, to be sent to Mrs. Lincoln. "Tell +her," said Eugene Pelletan, "the heart of France is in that little +box." The inscription had a double sense; while honoring the dead +republican, it struck at the Empire: "Lincoln--the Honest Man; +abolished Slavery, reestablished the Union; Saved the Republic, +without veiling the Statue of Liberty." + +Everywhere on the Continent the same swift apotheosis of the people's +hero was seen. An Austrian deputy said to the writer, "Among my people +his memory has already assumed superhuman proportions; he has become a +myth, a type of ideal democracy." Almost before the earth closed over +him he began to be the subject of fable. The Freemasons of Europe +generally regard him as one of them--his portrait in masonic garb is +often displayed; yet he was not one of that brotherhood. The +spiritualists claim him as their most illustrious adept, but he was +not a spiritualist; and there is hardly a sect in the Western world, +from the Calvinist to the atheist, but affects to believe he was of +their opinion. + +A collection of the expressions of sympathy and condolence which came +to Washington from foreign governments, associations, and public +bodies of all sorts, was made by the State Department, and afterward +published by order of Congress. It forms a large quarto of a thousand +pages, and embraces the utterances of grief and regret from every +country under the sun, in almost every language spoken by man. + +But admired and venerated as he was in Europe, he was best understood +and appreciated at home. It is not to be denied that in his case, as +in that of all heroic personages who occupy a great place in history, +a certain element of legend mingles with his righteous fame. He was a +man, in fact, especially liable to legend.... + +Because Lincoln kept himself in such constant sympathy with the common +people, whom he respected too highly to flatter or mislead, he was +rewarded by a reverence and a love hardly ever given to a human being. +Among the humble working people of the South whom he had made free +this veneration and affection easily passed into the supernatural. At +a religious meeting among the negroes of the Sea Islands a young man +exprest the wish that he might see Lincoln. A gray-headed negro +rebuked the rash aspiration: "No man see Linkum. Linkum walk as Jesus +walk; no man see Linkum."... + +The quick instinct by which the world recognized him even at the +moment of his death as one of its greatest men, was not deceived. It +has been confirmed by the sober thought of a quarter of a century. +The writers of each nation compare him with their first popular hero. +The French find points of resemblance in him to Henry IV; the Dutch +liken him to William of Orange: the cruel stroke of murder and treason +by which all three perished in the height of their power naturally +suggests the comparison, which is strangely justified in both cases, +tho the two princes were so widely different in character. Lincoln had +the wit, the bonhomie, the keen practical insight into affairs, of the +Bearnais; and the tyrannous moral sense, the wide comprehension, the +heroic patience of the Dutch patriot, whose motto might have served +equally well for the American President--_"Saevis tranquillus in +undis."_ European historians speak of him in words reserved for the +most illustrious names. + +In this country, where millions still live who were his +contemporaries, and thousands who knew him personally; where the +envies and jealousies which dog the footsteps of success still linger +in the hearts of a few; where journals still exist that loaded his +name for four years with daily calumny, and writers of memoirs vainly +try to make themselves important by belittling him--his fame has +become as universal as the air, as deeply rooted as the hills. The +faint discords are not heard in the wide chorus that hails him second +to none and equaled by Washington alone. The eulogies of him form a +special literature. Preachers, poets, soldiers, and statesmen employ +the same phrases of unconditional love and reverence. Men speaking +with the authority of fame use unqualified superlatives.... + +It is not difficult to perceive the basis of this sudden and +world-wide fame, nor rash to predict its indefinite duration. There +are two classes of men whose names are more enduring than any +monument: the great writers, and the men of great achievement--the +founders of states, the conquerors. Lincoln has the singular fortune +to belong to both these categories; upon these broad and stable +foundations his renown is securely built. Nothing would have more +amazed him while he lived than to hear himself called a man of +letters; but this age has produced few greater writers. We are only +recording here the judgment of his peers. Emerson ranks him with AEsop +and Pilpay, in his lighter moods.... + +The more his writings are studied in connection with the important +transactions of his age, the higher will his reputation stand in the +opinion of the lettered class. But the men of study and research are +never numerous; and it is principally as a man of action that the +world at large will regard him. It is the story of his objective life +that will forever touch and hold the heart of mankind. His birthright +was privation and ignorance--not peculiar to his family, but the +universal environment of his place and time; he burst through those +enchaining conditions by the force of native genius and will: vice had +no temptation for him; his course was as naturally upward as the +skylark's; he won, against all conceivable obstacles, a high place in +an exacting profession and an honorable position in public and private +life; he became the foremost representative of a party founded on an +uprising of the national conscience against a secular wrong, and thus +came to the awful responsibilities of power in a time of terror and +gloom. He met them with incomparable strength and virtue. Caring for +nothing but the public good, free from envy or jealous fears, he +surrounded himself with the leading men of his party, his most +formidable rivals in public esteem, and through four years of +stupendous difficulties he was head and shoulders above them all in +the vital qualities of wisdom, foresight, knowledge of men, and +thorough comprehension of measures. Personally opposed, as the +radicals claim, by more than half of his own party in Congress, and +bitterly denounced and maligned by his open adversaries, he yet bore +himself with such extraordinary discretion and skill that he obtained +for the government all the legislation it required, and so imprest +himself upon the national mind that without personal effort or +solicitation he became the only possible candidate of his party for +reelection, and was chosen by an almost unanimous vote of the +electoral colleges.... + +To these qualifications of high literary excellence, and easy +practical mastery of affairs of transcendent importance we must add, +as an explanation of his immediate and world-wide fame, his possession +of certain moral qualities rarely combined in such high degree in one +individual. His heart was so tender that he would dismount from his +horse in a forest to replace in their nest young birds which had +fallen by the roadside; he could not sleep at night if he knew that a +soldier-boy was under sentence of death; he could not, even at the +bidding of duty or policy, refuse the prayer of age or helplessness in +distress. Children instinctively loved him; they never found his +rugged features ugly; his sympathies were quick and seemingly +unlimited. He was absolutely without prejudice of class or condition. +Frederick Douglass says he was the only man of distinction he ever met +who never reminded him, by word or manner, of his color; he was as +just and generous to the rich and well-born as to the poor and +humble--a thing rare among politicians. He was tolerant even of evil: +tho no man can ever have lived with a loftier scorn of meanness and +selfishness, he yet recognized their existence and counted with them. +He said one day, with a flash of cynical wisdom worthy of a La +Rochefoucauld, that honest statesmanship was the employment of +individual meanness for the public good. He never asked perfection of +any one; he did not even insist, for others, upon the high standards +he set up for himself. At a time before the word was invented he was +the first of opportunists. With the fire of a reformer and a martyr in +his heart, he yet proceeded by the ways of cautious and practical +statecraft. He always worked with things as they were, while never +relinquishing the desire and effort to make them better. To a hope +which saw the delectable mountains of absolute justice and peace in +the future, to a faith that God in his own time would give to all men +the things convenient to them, he added a charity which embraced in +its deep bosom all the good and the bad, all the virtues and the +infirmities of men, and a patience like that of nature, which in its +vast and fruitful activity knows neither haste nor rest. + +A character like this is among the precious heirlooms of the +republic; and by a special good fortune every part of the country has +an equal claim and pride in it. Lincoln's blood came from the veins of +New England emigrants, of Middle State Quakers, of Virginia planters, +of Kentucky pioneers; he himself was one of the men who grew up with +the earliest growth of the great West. Every jewel of his mind or his +conduct sheds radiance on each portion of the nation. The marvelous +symmetry and balance of his intellect and character may have owed +something to this varied environment of his race, and they may fitly +typify the variety and solidity of the republic. It may not be +unreasonable to hope that his name and his renown may be forever a +bond of union to the country which he loved with an affection so +impartial, and served, in life and in death, with such entire +devotion. + + + + +HENRY ADAMS + + Born in Boston in 1838; graduated from Harvard in 1858, + private secretary to his father, Charles Francis Adams, + American Minister to England in 1861-68; a professor at + Harvard in 1870-77; editor of the _North American Review_ in + 1870-76; author of "Essays in Anglo-Saxon Law," "Life of + Albert Gallatin," and a "History of the United States" in + nine volumes. + + + + +JEFFERSON'S RETIREMENT[62] + + +The repeal of the embargo, which received the President's signature +March 1, closed the long reign of President Jefferson; and with but +one exception the remark of John Randolph was destined to remain true, +that "never has there been any administration which went out of office +and left the nation in a state so deplorable and calamitous." That the +blame for this failure rested wholly upon Jefferson might be doubted; +but no one felt more keenly than he the disappointment under which his +old hopes and ambitions were crusht. + +[Footnote 62: From the final chapter of the "History of the United +States in the Administration of Thomas Jefferson." Copyright, 1889, by +Charles Scribners' Sons.] + +Loss of popularity was his bitterest trial. He who longed like a +sensitive child for sympathy and love left office as strongly and +almost as generally disliked as the least popular president who +preceded or followed him. He had undertaken to create a government +which should interfere in no way with private action, and he had +created one which interfered directly in the concerns of every private +citizen in the land. He had come into power as the champion of state +rights, and had driven states to the verge of armed resistance. He had +begun by claiming credit for stern economy, and ended by exceeding the +expenditure of his predecessors. He had invented a policy of peace, +and his invention resulted in the necessity of fighting at once the +two greatest powers in the world.... + +In truth, the disaster was appalling; and Jefferson described it in +moderate terms by admitting that the policy of peaceable coercion +brought upon him mortification such as no other president ever +suffered. So complete was his overthrow that his popular influence +declined even in the South. Twenty years elapsed before his political +authority recovered power over the Northern people; for not until the +embargo and its memories faded from men's minds did the mighty shadow +of Jefferson's Revolutionary name efface the ruin of his presidency. +Yet he clung with more and more tenacity to the faith that his theory +of peaceable coercion was sound; and when within a few months of his +death he alluded for the last time to the embargo, he spoke of it as +"a measure which, persevered in a little longer, we had subsequent and +satisfactory assurance would have effected its object completely." + +A discomfiture so conspicuous could not fail to bring in its train a +swarm of petty humiliations which for the moment were more painful +than the great misfortune. Jefferson had hoped to make his country +forever pure and free; to abolish war with its train of debt, +extravagance, corruption and tyranny; to build up a government devoted +only to useful and moral objects; to bring upon earth a new era of +peace and good-will among men. Throughout the twistings and windings +of his course as president he clung to this main idea; or if he seemed +for a moment to forget it, he never failed to return and to persist +with almost heroic obstinacy in enforcing its lessons. By repealing +the embargo, Congress avowedly and even maliciously rejected and +trampled upon the only part of Jefferson's statesmanship which claimed +originality, or which in his own opinion entitled him to rank as +philosophic legislator. The mortification he felt was natural and +extreme, but such as every great statesman might expect, and such as +most of them experienced. The supreme bitterness of the moment lay +rather in the sudden loss of respect and consideration which at all +times marked the decline of power, but became most painful when the +surrender of office followed a political defeat at the hands of +supposed friends.... + +In his style of life as President, Jefferson had indulged in such easy +and liberal expenses as suited the place he held. Far from showing +extravagance, the White House and its surroundings had in his time the +outward look of a Virginia plantation. The President was required to +pay the expenses of the house and grounds. In consequence, the grounds +were uncared for, the palings broken or wanting, the paths undefined, +and the place a waste, running imperceptibly into the barren fields +about it. Within, the house was as simple as without, after the usual +style of Virginia houses, where the scale was often extravagant but +the details plain. Only in his table did Jefferson spend an unusual +amount of money with excellent results for his political influence, +for no president ever understood better than Jefferson the art of +entertaining; yet his table cost him no excessive sums. For the best +champagne he paid less than a dollar a bottle; for the best Bordeaux +he paid a dollar; and the Madeira which was drunk in pipes at the +White House cost between fifty and sixty cents a bottle. His French +cook and cook's assistant were paid about four hundred dollars a year. +On such a scale his salary of twenty-five thousand dollars was +equivalent to fully sixty thousand dollars of modern money; and his +accounts showed that for the first and probably the most expensive +year of his presidency he spent only $16,800 which could properly be +charged to his public and official character. A mode of life so simple +and so easily controlled should in a village like Washington have left +no opening for arrears of debt; but when Jefferson, about to quit the +White House forever, attempted to settle his accounts, he discovered +that he had exceeded his income. Not his expenses as President, but +his expenses as planter dragged him down. At first he thought that his +debts would reach seven or eight thousand dollars, which must be +discharged from a private estate hardly exceeding two hundred thousand +dollars in value at the best of times, and rendered almost worthless +by neglect and by the embargo. The sudden demand for this sum of +money, coming at the moment of his political mortifications, wrung +from him cries of genuine distress such as no public disaster had +called out.... + +On horseback, over roads impassable to wheels, through snow and storm, +he hurried back to Monticello to recover in the quiet of home the +peace of mind he had lost in the disappointments of his statesmanship. +He arrived at Monticello March 15, and never again passed beyond the +bounds of a few adjacent counties. + + + + +BRET HARTE + + Born in 1839, died in 1902; removed to California in 1854, + where in 1868 he founded _The Overland Monthly_; professor + in the University of California in 1870; removed to New York + in 1871; consul at Crefeld, Germany, in 1878-80, and at + Glasgow in 1880-85; published "The Luck of Roaring Camp" in + 1868, "The Outcasts of Poker Flat" in 1869, "Poems" in 1871, + "Stories of the Sierras" in 1872, "Tales of the Argonauts" + in 1875, "Gabriel Conroy" in 1876, "Two Men of Sandy Bar" (a + play) in 1877, "A Phyllis of the Sierras" in 1888. + + + + +I + +PEGGY MOFFAT'S INHERITANCE[63] + + +The first intimation given of the eccentricity of the testator was, I +think, in the spring of 1854. He was at that time in possession of a +considerable property, heavily mortgaged to one friend, and a wife of +some attraction, on whose affections another friend held an +encumbering lien. One day it was found that he had secretly dug, or +caused to be dug, a deep trap before the front door of his dwelling, +into which a few friends in the course of the evening casually and +familiarly dropt. This circumstance, slight in itself, seemed to point +to the existence of a certain humor in the man, which might eventually +get into literature; altho his wife's lover--a man of quick +discernment, whose leg was broken by the fall--took other views. It +was some weeks later that while dining with certain other friends of +his wife, he excused himself from the table, to quietly reappear at +the front window with a three-quarter-inch hydraulic pipe, and a +stream of water projected at the assembled company. An attempt was +made to take public cognizance of this; but a majority of the citizens +of Red Dog who were not at dinner decided that a man had a right to +choose his own methods of diverting his company. Nevertheless, there +were some hints of his insanity: his wife recalled other acts clearly +attributable to dementia; the crippled lover argued from his own +experience that the integrity of her limbs could only be secured by +leaving her husband's house; and the mortgagee, fearing a further +damage to his property, foreclosed. But here the cause of all this +anxiety took matters into his own hands and disappeared. + +[Footnote 63: From "The Twins of Table Mountain." Copyright, 1879, by +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +When we next heard from him, he had in some mysterious way been +relieved alike of his wife and property and was living alone at +Rockville, fifty miles away, and editing a newspaper. But that +originality he had displayed when dealing with the problems of his own +private life, when applied to politics in the columns of _The +Rockville Vanguard_ was singularly unsuccessful. An amusing +exaggeration, purporting to be an exact account of the manner in which +the opposing candidate had murdered his Chinese laundryman, was, I +regret to say, answered only by assault and battery. A gratuitous and +purely imaginative description of a great religious revival in +Calaveras, in which the sheriff of the county--a notoriously profane +skeptic--was alleged to have been the chief exhorter, resulted only +in the withdrawal of the county advertising from the paper. + +In the midst of this practical confusion he suddenly died. It was then +discovered, as a crowning proof of his absurdity, that he had left a +will, bequeathing his entire effects to a freckle-faced maid-servant +at the Rockville Hotel. But that absurdity became serious when it was +also discovered that among these effects were a thousand shares in the +Rising Sun Mining Company, which a day or two after his demise, and +while people were still laughing at his grotesque benefaction, +suddenly sprang into opulence and celebrity. Three millions of dollars +was roughly estimated as the value of the estate thus wantonly +sacrificed. For it is only fair to state, as a just tribute to the +enterprise and energy of that young and thriving settlement, that +there was not probably a single citizen who did not feel himself +better able to control the deceased humorist's property. Some had +exprest a doubt of their ability to support a family; others had felt +perhaps too keenly the deep responsibility resting upon them when +chosen from the panel as jurors, and had evaded their public duties; a +few had declined office and a low salary; but no one shrank from the +possibility of having been called upon to assume the functions of +Peggy Moffat the heiress. + +The will was contested--first by the widow, who it now appeared had +never been legally divorced from the deceased; next by four of his +cousins, who awoke, only too late, to a consciousness of his moral and +pecuniary worth. But the humble legatee--a singularly plain, +unpretending, uneducated Western girl--exhibited a dogged pertinacity +in claiming her rights. She rejected all compromises. A rough sense of +justice in the community, while doubting her ability to take care of +the whole fortune, suggested that she ought to be content with three +hundred thousand dollars. "She's bound to throw even that away on some +derned skunk of a man, natoorally; but three millions is too much to +give a chap for makin' her onhappy. It's offerin' a temptation to +cussedness." + +The only opposing voice to this counsel came from the sardonic lips of +Mr. Jack Hamlin. "Suppose," suggested that gentleman, turning abruptly +on the speaker, "suppose, when you won twenty thousand dollars of me +last Friday night--suppose that instead of handing you over the money +as I did--suppose I'd got up on my hind legs and said, 'Look yer, Bill +Wethersbee, you're a d----d fool. If I give ye that twenty thousand +you'll throw it away in the first skin game in 'Frisco, and hand it +over to the first short card-sharp you'll meet. There's a +thousand--enough for you to fling away--take it and get!' Suppose what +I'd said to you was the frozen truth, and you knowed it, would that +have been the square thing to play on you?" + +But here Wethersbee quickly pointed out the inefficiency of the +comparison by stating that he had won the money fairly with a stake. + +"And how do you know," demanded Hamlin savagely, bending his black +eyes on the astonished casuist, "how do you know that the gal hezn't +put down a stake?" + +The man stammered an unintelligible reply. + +The gambler laid his white hand on Wethersbee's shoulder. + +"Look yer, old man," he said, "every gal stakes her whole pile--you +can bet your life on that--whatever's her little game. If she took to +keerds instead of her feelings, if she'd put up chips instead o' body +and soul, she'd burst every bank 'twixt this and 'Frisco! You hear +me?" + +Somewhat of this idea was conveyed, I fear not quite as sentimentally, +to Peggy Moffat herself. The best legal wisdom of San Francisco, +retained by the widow and relatives, took occasion, in a private +interview with Peggy, to point out that she stood in the +quasi-criminal attitude of having unlawfully practised upon the +affections of an insane elderly gentleman, with a view of getting +possession of his property; and suggested to her that no vestige of +her moral character would remain after the trial, if she persisted in +forcing her claims to that issue. It is said that Peggy, on hearing +this, stopt washing the plate she had in her hands, and twisting the +towel around her fingers, fixt her small pale blue eyes on the lawyer. + +"And ez that the kind o' chirpin' these critters keep up?" + +"I regret to say, my dear young lady," responded the lawyer, "that the +world is censorious. I must add," he continued, with engaging +frankness, "that we professional lawyers are apt to study the opinion +of the world, and that such will be the theory of--our side." + +"Then," said Peggy stoutly, "ez I allow I've got to go into court to +defend my character, I might as well pack in them three millions +too." + +There is hearsay evidence that Peg added to this speech a wish and +desire to "bust the crust" of her traducers, and remarking that "that +was the kind of hair-pin" she was, closed the conversation with an +unfortunate accident to the plate, that left a severe contusion on the +legal brow of her companion. But this story, popular in the bar-rooms +and gulches, lacked confirmation in higher circles.... + +The case came to trial. Everybody remembers it--how for six weeks it +was the daily food of Calaveras County; how for six weeks the +intellectual and moral and spiritual competency of Mr. James Byways to +dispose of his property was discust with learned and formal obscurity +in the court, and with unlettered and independent prejudice by +camp-fires and in bar-rooms. At the end of that time, when it was +logically established that at least nine-tenths of the population of +Calaveras were harmless lunatics, and everybody else's reason seemed +to totter on its throne, an exhausted jury succumbed one day to the +presence of Peg in the courtroom. It was not a prepossessing presence +at any time; but the excitement, and an injudicious attempt to +ornament herself, brought her defects into a glaring relief that was +almost unreal. Every freckle on her face stood out and asserted itself +singly; her pale blue eyes, that gave no indication of her force of +character, were weak and wandering, or stared blankly at the judge; +her over-sized head, broad at the base, terminating in the scantiest +possible light colored braid in the middle of her narrow shoulders, +was as hard and uninteresting as the wooden spheres that topt the +railing against which she sat. The jury, who for six weeks had had +her described to them by the plaintiffs as an arch, wily enchantress, +who had sapped the failing reason of Jim Byways, revolted to a man. +There was something so appallingly gratuitous in her plainness that it +was felt that three millions was scarcely a compensation for it. "Ef +that money was give to her, she earned it sure, boys; it wasn't no +softness of the old man," said the foreman. When the jury retired, it +was felt that she had cleared her character; when they reentered the +room with their verdict, it was known that she had been awarded three +millions damages for its defamation. + +She got the money. But those who had confidently expected to see her +squander it were disappointed: on the contrary, it was presently +whispered that she was exceeding penurious. That admirable woman Mrs. +Stiver of Red Dog, who accompanied her to San Francisco to assist her +in making purchases, was loud in her indignation. "She cares more for +two bits than I do for five dollars. She wouldn't buy anything at the +'City of Paris' because it was 'too expensive,' and at last rigged +herself out a perfect guy at some cheap slop-shops in Market Street. +And after all the care Jane and me took of her, giving up our time and +experience to her, she never so much as made Jane a single present." +Popular opinion, which regarded Mrs. Stiver's attention as purely +speculative, was not shocked at this unprofitable denouement; but when +Peg refused to give anything to clear the mortgage off the new +Presbyterian church, and even declined to take shares in the Union +Ditch, considered by many as an equally sacred and safe investment, +she began to lose favor. Nevertheless, she seemed to be as regardless +of public opinion as she had been before the trial; took a small +house, in which she lived with an old woman who had once been a fellow +servant, on apparently terms of perfect equality, and looked after her +money. + +I wish I could say that she did this discreetly; but the fact is, she +blundered. The same dogged persistency she had displayed in claiming +her rights was visible in her unsuccessful ventures. She sunk two +hundred thousand dollars in a worn-out shaft originally projected by +the deceased testator; she prolonged the miserable existence of _The +Rockville Vanguard_ long after it had ceased to interest even its +enemies; she kept the doors of the Rockville Hotel open when its +custom had departed; she lost the cooperation and favor of a fellow +capitalist through a trifling misunderstanding in which she was +derelict and impenitent; she had three lawsuits on her hands that +could have been settled for a trifle. I note these defects to show +that she was by no means a heroine. I quote her affair with Jack +Folinsbee to show she was scarcely the average woman.... + +Nothing was known definitely until Jack a month later turned up in +Sacramento, with a billiard cue in his hand, and a heart overcharged +with indignant emotion. + +"I don't mind saying to you gentlemen in confidence," said Jack to a +circle of sympathizing players, "I don't mind telling you regarding +this thing, that I was as soft on that freckle-faced, red-eyed, +tallow-haired gal as if she'd been--a--a--an actress. And I don't mind +saying, gentlemen, that as far as I understand women, she was just as +soft on me. You kin laugh; but it's so. One day I took her out +buggy-riding--in style too--and out on the road I offered to do the +square thing, just as if she'd been a lady--offered to marry her then +and there. And what did she do?" said Jack with a hysterical laugh. +"Why, blank it all! offered me twenty-five dollars a week +allowance--pay to be stopt when I wasn't at home!" The roar of +laughter that greeted this frank confession was broken by a quiet +voice asking, "And what did you say?" "Say?" screamed Jack, "I just +told her to go to ---- with her money."... + +During the following year she made several more foolish ventures and +lost heavily. In fact, a feverish desire to increase her store at +almost any risk seemed to possess her. At last it was announced that +she intended to reopen the infelix Rockville Hotel, and keep it +herself. Wild as this scheme appeared in theory, when put into +practical operation there seemed to be some chance of success. Much +doubtless was owing to her practical knowledge of hotel-keeping, but +more to her rigid economy and untiring industry. The mistress of +millions, she cooked, washed, waited on table, made the beds, and +labored like a common menial. Visitors were attracted by this novel +spectacle. The income of the house increased as their respect for the +hostess lessened. No anecdote of her avarice was too extravagant for +current belief. It was even alleged that she had been known to carry +the luggage of guests to their rooms, that she might anticipate the +usual porter's gratuity. She denied herself the ordinary necessaries +of life. She was poorly clad, she was ill-fed--but the hotel was +making money. + +It was the particular fortune of Mr. Jack Hamlin to be able to set the +world right on this and other questions regarding her. + +A stormy December evening had set in when he chanced to be a guest of +the Rockville Hotel.... At midnight, when he was about to retire, he +was a little surprized however by a tap on his door, followed by the +presence of Mistress Peg Moffat, heiress, and landlady of Rockville +Hotel. + +Mr. Hamlin, despite his previous defense of Peg, had no liking for +her. His fastidious taste rejected her uncomeliness; his habits of +thought and life were all antagonistic to what he had heard of her +niggardliness and greed. As she stood there in a dirty calico wrapper, +still redolent with the day's _cuisine_, crimson with embarrassment +and the recent heat of the kitchen range, she certainly was not an +alluring apparition. Happily for the lateness of the hour, her +loneliness, and the infelix reputation of the man before her, she was +at least a safe one. And I fear the very consciousness of this +scarcely relieved her embarrassment.... + +"I wanted to ask ye a favor about Mr.--about--Jack Folinsbee," began +Peg hurriedly. "He's ailin' agin, and is mighty low. And he's losin' a +heap o' money here and thar, and mostly to you. You cleaned him out of +two thousand dollars last night--all he had." + +"Well?" said the gambler coldly. + +"Well, I thought as you woz a friend o' mine, I'd ask ye to let up a +little on him," said Peg with an affected laugh. "You kin do it. +Don't let him play with ye." + +"Mistress Margaret Moffat," said Jack with lazy deliberation, taking off +his watch and beginning to wind it up, "ef you're that much stuck after +Jack Folinsbee, you kin keep him off of me much easier than I kin. You're a +rich woman. Give him enough money to break my bank, or break himself for +good and all; but don't keep him foolin' round me in hopes to make a raise. +It don't pay, Mistress Moffat--it don't pay!"... + +"When Jim Byways left me this yer property," she began, looking +cautiously around, "he left it to me on conditions; not conditions ez +waz in his written will, but conditions ez waz spoken. A promise I +made him in this very room, Mr. Hamlin--this very room, and on that +very bed you're sittin' on, in which he died." + +Like most gamblers, Mr. Hamlin was superstitious. He rose hastily from +the bed, and took a chair beside the window. The wind shook it as if +the discontented spirit of Mr. Byways were without, reenforcing his +last injunction. + +"I don't know if you remember him," said Peg feverishly. "He was a man +ez hed suffered. All that he loved--wife, fammerly, friends--had gone +back on him. He tried to make light of it afore folks; but with me, +being a poor gal, he let himself out. I never told anybody this. I +don't know why he told me; I don't know," continued Peggy with a +sniffle, "why he wanted to make me unhappy too. But he made me promise +that if he left me his fortune, I'd never, never--so help me +God!--never share it with any man or woman that I loved. I didn't +think it would be hard to keep that promise then, Mr. Hamlin, for I +was very poor, and hedn't a friend nor a living bein' that was kind to +me but him." + +"But you've as good as broken your promise already," said Hamlin. +"You've given Jack money, as I know." + +"Only what I made myself. Listen to me, Mr. Hamlin. When Jack proposed +to me, I offered him about what I kalkilated I could earn myself. When +he went away, and was sick and in trouble, I came here and took this +hotel. I knew that by hard work I could make it pay. Don't laugh at +me, please. I did work hard, and did make it pay--without takin' one +cent of the fortin'. And all I made, workin' by night and day, I gave +to him; I did, Mr. Hamlin. I ain't so hard to him as you think, tho I +might be kinder, I know." + +Mr. Hamlin rose, deliberately resumed his coat, watch, hat, and +overcoat. When he was completely drest again, he turned to Peg. + +"Do you mean to say that you've been givin' all the money you made +here to this A1 first-class cherubim?" + +"Yes; but he didn't know where I got it. O Mr. Hamlin! he didn't know +that." + +"Do I understand you that he's been bucking agin faro with the money +that you raised on hash? and you makin' the hash?" + +"But he didn't know that. He wouldn't hev took it if I'd told him." + +"No, he'd hev died fust!" said Mr. Hamlin gravely. "Why, he's that +sensitive that it nearly kills him to take money even of me." + + + + +II + +JOHN CHINAMAN[64] + + +The expression of the Chinese face in the aggregate is neither +cheerful nor happy. In an acquaintance of half a dozen years, I can +only recall one or two exceptions to this rule. There is an abiding +consciousness of degradation--a secret pain or self-humiliation +visible in the lines of the mouth and eye. Whether it is only a +modification of Turkish gravity, or whether it is the dread Valley of +the Shadow of the Drug through which they are continually straying, I +can not say. They seldom smile, and their laughter is of such an +extraordinary and sardonic nature--so purely a mechanical spasm, quite +independent of any mirthful attribute--that to this day I am doubtful +whether I ever saw a Chinaman laugh. A theatrical representation by +natives, one might think, would have set my mind at ease on this +point; but it did not. Indeed, a new difficulty presented itself--the +impossibility of determining whether the performance was a tragedy or +farce. I thought I detected the low comedian in an active youth who +turned two somersaults, and knocked everybody down on entering the +stage. But, unfortunately, even this classic resemblance to the +legitimate farce of our civilization was deceptive. Another brocaded +actor, who represented the hero of the play, turned three +somersaults, and not only upset my theory and his fellow actors at the +same time, but apparently ran amuck behind the scenes for some time +afterward. I looked around at the glinting white teeth to observe the +effect of these two palpable hits. They were received with equal +acclamation, and apparently equal facial spasms. One or two beheadings +which enlivened the play produced the same sardonic effect, and left +upon my mind a painful anxiety to know what was the serious business +of life in China. It was noticeable, however, that my unrestrained +laughter had a discordant effect, and that triangular eyes sometimes +turned ominously toward the "Fanqui devil"; but as I retired +discreetly before the play was finished, there were no serious +results. I have only given the above as an instance of the +impossibility of deciding upon the outward and superficial expression +of Chinese mirth. Of its inner and deeper existence I have some +private doubts. An audience that will view with a serious aspect the +hero, after a frightful and agonizing death, get up and quietly walk +off the stage, can not be said to have remarkable perceptions of the +ludicrous. + +[Footnote 64: From "The Luck of Roaring Camp." Copyright, 1871, 1899, +Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +I have often been struck with the delicate pliability of the Chinese +expression and taste that might suggest a broader and deeper criticism +than is becoming these pages. A Chinaman will adopt the American +costume, and wear it with a taste of color and detail that will +surpass those "native, and to the manner born." To look at a Chinese +slipper, one might imagine it impossible to shape the original foot to +anything less cumbrous and roomy, yet a neater-fitting boot than that +belonging to the Americanized Chinaman is rarely seen on this side of +the continent. When the loose sack or paletot takes the place of his +brocade blouse, it is worn with a refinement and grace that might +bring a jealous pang to the exquisite of our more refined +civilization. Pantaloons fall easily and naturally over legs that have +known unlimited freedom and bagginess, and even garrote collars meet +correctly around sun-tanned throats. The new expression seldom +overflows in gaudy cravats. I will back my Americanized Chinaman +against any neophyte of European birth in the choice of that article. +While in our own State, the greaser resists one by one the garments of +the Northern invader, and even wears the livery of his conqueror with +a wild and buttonless freedom, the Chinaman, abused and degraded as he +is, changes by correctly graded transition to the garments of +Christian civilization. There is but one article of European wear that +he avoids. These Bohemian eyes have never yet been pained by the +spectacle of a tall hat on the head of an intelligent Chinaman. + +My acquaintance with John has been made up of weekly interviews, +involving the adjustment of the washing accounts, so that I have not +been able to study his character from a social viewpoint or observe +him in the privacy of the domestic circle. I have gathered enough to +justify me in believing him to be generally honest, faithful, simple, +and painstaking. Of his simplicity let me record an instance where a +sad and civil young Chinaman brought me certain shirts with most of +the buttons missing and others hanging on delusively by a single +thread. In a moment of unguarded irony I informed him that unity would +at least have been preserved if the buttons were removed altogether. +He smiled sadly and went away. I thought I had hurt his feelings, +until the next week, when he brought me my shirts with a look of +intelligence, and the buttons carefully and totally erased. At another +time, to guard against his general disposition to carry off anything +as soiled clothes that he thought could hold water, I requested him to +always wait until he saw me. Coming home late one evening, I found the +household in great consternation over an immovable Celestial who had +remained seated on the front door-step during the day, sad and +submissive, firm but also patient, and only betraying any animation or +token of his mission when he saw me coming. This same Chinaman evinced +some evidences of regard for a little girl in the family, who in her +turn reposed such faith in his intellectual qualities as to present +him with a preternaturally uninteresting Sunday-school book, her own +property. This book John made a point of carrying ostentatiously with +him in his weekly visits. It appeared usually on the top of the clean +clothes, and was sometimes painfully clasped outside of the big bundle +of soiled linen. Whether John believed he unconsciously imbibed some +spiritual life through its pasteboard cover, as the Prince in the +"Arabian Nights" imbibed the medicine through the handle of the +mallet, or whether he wished to exhibit a due sense of gratitude, or +whether he hadn't any pockets, I have never been able to ascertain. In +his turn he would sometimes cut marvelous imitation roses from +carrots for his little friend. I am inclined to think that the few +roses strewn in John's path were such scentless imitations. The thorns +only were real. From the persecutions of the young and old of a +certain class his life was a torment. I don't know what was the exact +philosophy that Confucius taught, but it is to be hoped that poor John +in his persecution is still able to detect the conscious hate and fear +with which inferiority always regards the possibility of even-handed +justice, and which is the keynote to the vulgar clamor about servile +and degraded races. + + + + +III + +M'LISS GOES TO SCHOOL[65] + + +Just where the Sierra Nevada begins to subside in gentler undulations, +and the rivers grow less rapid and yellow, on the side of a great red +mountain, stands "Smith's Pocket." Seen from the red road at sunset, +in the red light and the red dust, its white houses look like the +outcroppings of quartz on the mountain-side. The red stage topped with +red-shirted passengers is lost to view half a dozen times in the +tortuous descent, turning up unexpectedly in out-of-the-way places, +and vanishing altogether within a hundred yards of the town. It is +probably owing to this sudden twist in the road that the advent of a +stranger at Smith's Pocket is usually attended with a peculiar +circumstance. Dismounting from the vehicle at the stage office, the +too confident traveler is apt to walk straight out of town under the +impression that it lies in quite another direction. It is related that +one of the tunnelmen, two miles from town, met one of these +self-reliant passengers with a carpet-bag, umbrella, _Harper's +Magazine_, and other evidences of "civilization and refinement," +plodding along over the road he had just ridden, vainly endeavoring to +find the settlement of Smith's Pocket. + +[Footnote 65: From M'Liss, one of the stories in "The Luck of Roaring +Camp" volume. Copyright, 1871, 1899. Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +An observant traveler might have found some compensation for his +disappointment in the weird aspect of that vicinity. There were huge +fissures on the hillside, and displacements of the red soil, +resembling more the chaos of some primary elemental upheaval than the +work of man; while, half-way down, a long flume straddled its narrow +body and disproportionate legs over the chasm, like an enormous fossil +of some forgotten antediluvian. At every step smaller ditches crossed +the road, hiding in their sallow depths unlovely streams that crept +away to a clandestine union with the great yellow torrent below, and +here and there were the ruins of some cabin with the chimney alone +left intact and the hearthstone open to the skies. + +The settlement of Smith's Pocket owed its origin to the finding of a +"pocket" on its site by a veritable Smith. Five thousand dollars were +taken out of it in one half-hour by Smith. Three thousand dollars were +expended by Smith and others in erecting a flume and in tunnelling. +And then Smith's Pocket was found to be only a pocket, and subject, +like other pockets, to depletion. Altho Smith pierced the bowels of +the great red mountain, that five thousand dollars was the first and +last return of his labor. The mountain grew reticent of its golden +secrets, and the flume steadily ebbed away the remainder of Smith's +fortune. Then Smith went into quartz-mining; then into quartz-milling; +then into hydraulics and ditching, and then by easy degrees into +saloon-keeping. Presently it was whispered that Smith was drinking a +great deal; then it was known that Smith was a habitual drunkard, and +then people began to think, as they are apt to, that he had never been +anything else. But the settlement of Smith's Pocket, like that of most +discoveries, was happily not dependent on the fortune of its pioneer, +and other parties projected tunnels and found pockets. So Smith's +pocket became a settlement with its two fancy stores, its two hotels, +its one express office, and its two first families. Occasionally its +one long straggling street was overawed by the assumption of the +latest San Francisco fashions, imported per express, exclusively to +the first families; making outraged Nature, in the ragged outline of +her furrowed surface, look still more homely, and putting personal +insult on that greater portion of the population to whom the Sabbath, +with a change of linen, brought merely the necessity of cleanliness, +without the luxury of adornment. Then there was a Methodist church, +and hard by a Monte bank, and a little beyond, on the mountain-side, a +graveyard; and then a little schoolhouse. + +"The Master," as he was known to his little flock, sat alone one night +in the schoolhouse, with some open copy-books before him, carefully +making those bold and full characters which are supposed to combine +the extremes of chirographical and moral excellence, and had got as +far as "Riches are deceitful," and was elaborating the noun with an +insincerity of flourish that was quite in the spirit of his text, when +he heard a gentle tapping. The woodpeckers had been busy about the +roof during the day, and the noise did not disturb his work. But the +opening of the door, and the tapping continuing from the inside, +caused him to look up. He was slightly startled by the figure of a +young girl, dirty and shabbily clad. Still her great black eyes, her +coarse, uncombed, lusterless black hair falling over her sun-burned +face, her red arms and feet streaked with the red soil, were all +familiar to him. It was Melissa Smith--Smith's motherless child. + +"What can she want here?" thought the master. Everybody knew "M'liss," +as she was called, throughout the length and height of Red Mountain. +Everybody knew her as an incorrigible girl. Her fierce, ungovernable +disposition, her mad freaks and lawless character were in their way as +proverbial as the story of her father's weaknesses, and as +philosophically accepted by the townsfolk. She wrangled with and +fought the schoolboys with keener invective and quite as powerful arm. +She followed the trails with a woodman's craft, and the master had met +her before, miles away, shoeless, stockingless, and bareheaded, on the +mountain road. The miners' camps along the stream supplied her with +subsistence during these voluntary pilgrimages, in freely offered +alms. Not but that a larger protection had been previously extended to +M'liss. The Rev. Joshua McSnagley, "stated" preacher, had placed her +in the hotel as servant, by way of preliminary refinement, and had +introduced her to his scholars at Sunday school. But she threw plates +occasionally at the landlord, and quickly retorted to the cheap +witticisms of the guests, and created in the Sabbath school a +sensation that was so inimical to the orthodox dulness and placidity +of that institution, that, with a decent regard for the starched +frocks and unblemished morals of the two pink-and-white-faced children +of the first families, the reverend gentleman had her ignominiously +expelled. Such were the antecedents, and such the character of M'liss, +as she stood before the master. It was shown in the ragged dress, the +unkempt hair, and bleeding feet, and asked his pity. It flashed from +her black, fearless eyes, and commanded his respect. + +"I come here to-night," she said rapidly and boldly, keeping her hard +glance on his, "because I knew you was alone. I wouldn't come here +when them gals was here. I hate 'em and they hates me. That's why. You +keep school, don't you? I want to be teached!" + +If to the shabbiness of her apparel and uncomeliness of her tangled +hair and dirty face she had added the humility of tears, the master +would have extended to her the usual moiety of pity, and nothing more. +But with the natural, tho illogical instincts of his species, her +boldness awakened in him something of that respect which all original +natures pay unconsciously to one another in any grade. And he gazed at +her the more fixedly as she went on still rapidly, her hand on that +door-latch and her eyes on his: + +"My name's M'liss--M'liss Smith! You can bet your life on that. My +father's Old Smith--Old Bummer Smith--that's what's the matter with +him. M'liss Smith--and I'm coming to school!" + +"Well?" said the master. + +Accustomed to be thwarted and opposed, often wantonly and cruelly, for +no other purpose than to excite the violent impulses of her nature, +the master's phlegm evidently took her by surprize. She stopt; she +began to twist a lock of her hair between her fingers; and the rigid +line of upper lip, drawn over the wicked little teeth, relaxed and +quivered slightly. Then her eyes dropt, and something like a blush +struggled up to her cheek, and tried to assert itself through the +splashes of redder soil, and the sunburn of years. Suddenly she threw +herself forward, calling on God to strike her dead, and fell quite +weak and helpless, with her face on the master's desk, crying and +sobbing as if her heart would break. + + + + +HENRY JAMES + + Born in 1843; son of the elder Henry James; educated in + Europe; studied law at Harvard; began to write for + periodicals in 1866; has lived mostly in England since 1869; + "A Passionate Pilgrim" published in 1875, "The American" in + 1877, "French Poets and Novelists" in 1878, "Daisy Miller" + in 1878, "Life of Hawthorne" in 1879, "Portrait of a Lady" + in 1881, "A Little Tour in France" in 1884, "The Bostonians" + in 1886, "What Maisie Knew" in 1897, "The Awkward Age" in + 1899, "The Sacred Fount" in 1901. + + + + +I + +AMONG THE MALVERN HILLS[66] + + +Between the fair boundaries of the counties of Hereford and Worcester +rise in a long undulation the sloping pastures of the Malvern Hills. +Consulting a big red book on the castles and manors of England, we +found Lockley Park to be seated near the base of this grassy range, +tho in which county I forget. In the pages of this genial volume +Lockley Park and its appurtenances made a very handsome figure. We +took up our abode at a certain little wayside inn, at which in the +days of leisure the coach must have stopt for lunch, and burnished +pewters of rustic ale been tenderly exalted to "outsides" athirst with +breezy progression. Here we stopt, for sheer admiration of its steep +thatched roof, its latticed windows, and its homely porch. We allowed +a couple of days to elapse in vague undirected strolls and sweet +sentimental observance of the land, before we prepared to execute the +especial purpose of our journey. This admirable region is a compendium +of the general physiognomy of England. The noble friendliness of the +scenery, its subtle old friendliness, the magical familiarity of +multitudinous details, appealed to us at every step and at every +glance. Deep in our souls a natural affection answered. The whole +land, in the full, warm rains of the last of April, had burst into +sudden perfect spring. The dark walls of the hedge-rows had turned +into blooming screens; the sodden verdure of lawn and meadow was +streaked with a ranker freshness. We went forth without loss of time +for a long walk on the hills. Reaching their summits, you find half +England unrolled at your feet. A dozen broad counties, within the vast +range of your vision, commingle their green exhalations. Closely +beneath us lay the dark, rich flats of hedgy Worcestershire and the +copse-checkered slopes of rolling Hereford, white with the blossom of +apples. At widely opposite points of the large expanse two great +cathedral towers rise sharply, taking the light, from the settled +shadow of the circling towns--the light, the ineffable English light! +"Out of England," cried Searle, "it's but a garish world!" + +[Footnote 66: From "A Passionate Pilgrim and Other Tales." Copyright, +1875. Houghton, Mifflin Company.] + +The whole vast sweep of our surrounding prospect lay answering in a +myriad fleeting shades the cloudy process of the tremendous sky. The +English heaven is a fit antithesis to the complex English earth. We +possess in America the infinite beauty of the blue; England possesses +the splendor of combined and animated clouds. Over against us, from +our station on the hills, we saw them piled and dissolved, compacted +and shifted, blotting the azure with sullen rain-spots, stretching, +breeze-fretted, into dappled fields of gray, bursting into a storm of +light or melting into a drizzle of silver. We made our way along the +rounded summits of these well-grazed heights--mild, breezy inland +downs--and descended through long-drawn slopes of fields, green to +cottage doors, to where a rural village beckoned us from its seat +among the meadows. Close beside it, I admit, the railway shoots +fiercely from its tunnel in the hills; and yet there broods upon this +charming hamlet an old-time quietude and privacy, which seems to make +it a violation of confidence to tell its name so far away. We struck +through a narrow lane, a green lane, dim with its height of hedges; it +led us to a superb old farm-house, now jostled by the multiplied lanes +and roads which have curtailed its ancient appanage. It stands in +stubborn picturesqueness, at the receipt of sad-eyed contemplation and +the sufferance of "sketches." I doubt whether out of Nuremberg--or +Pompeii!--you may find so forcible an image of the domiciliary genius +of the past. It is cruelly complete; its bended beams and joists, +beneath the burden of its gables, seem to ache and groan with memories +and regrets. The short, low windows, where lead and glass combine in +equal proportions to hint to the wondering stranger of the medieval +gloom within, still prefer their darksome office to the grace of +modern day. + +Such an old house fills an American with an indefinable feeling of +respect. So propt and patched and tinkered with clumsy tenderness, +clustered so richly about its central English sturdiness, its oaken +vertebrations, so humanized with ages of use and touches of beneficent +affection, it seemed to offer to our grateful eyes a small, rude +synthesis of the great English social order. Passing out upon the +highroad, we came to the common browsing-patch, the "village green" of +the tales of our youth. Nothing was wanting; the shaggy, mouse-colored +donkey, nosing the turf with his mild and huge proboscis, the geese, +the old woman--the old woman, in person, with her red cloak and black +bonnet, frilled about the face and double-frilled beside her decent, +placid cheeks--the towering plowman with his white smock-frock, +puckered on chest and back, his short corduroys, his mighty calves, +his big, red, rural face. We greeted these things as children greet +the loved pictures in a story book, lost and mourned and found again. +It was marvelous how well we knew them. Beside the road we saw a +plow-boy straddle, whistling on a stile. Gainsborough might have +painted him. Beyond the stile, across the level velvet of a meadow, a +footpath lay, like a thread of darker woof. We followed it from field +to field and from stile to stile. It was the way to church. At the +church we finally arrived, lost in its rook-haunted churchyard, hidden +from the work-day world by the broad stillness of pastures--a gray, +gray tower, a huge black yew, a cluster of village graves, with +crooked headstones, in grassy, low relief. The whole scene was deeply +ecclesiastical. My companion was overcome. + +"You must bury me here," he cried. "It's the first church I have seen +in my life. How it makes a Sunday where it stands!" + +The next day we saw a church of statelier proportions. We walked over +to Worcester, through such a mist of local color that I felt like one +of Smollett's pedestrian heroes, faring tavern-ward for a night of +adventures. As we neared the provincial city we saw the steepled mass +of the cathedral, long and high, rise far into the cloud-freckled +blue. And as we came nearer still, we stopt on the bridge and viewed +the solid minster reflected in the yellow Severn. And going farther +yet we entered the town--where surely Miss Austen's heroines, in +chariots and curricles, must often have come a-shopping for +swan's-down boas and high lace mittens; we lounged about the gentle +close and gazed insatiably at that most soul-soothing sight, the +waning, wasting afternoon light, the visible ether which feels the +voices of the chimes, far aloft on the broad perpendicular field of +the cathedral tower; saw it linger and nestle and abide, as it loves +to do on all bold architectural spaces, converting them graciously +into registers and witnesses of nature; tasted, too, as deeply of the +peculiar stillness of this clerical precinct; saw a rosy English lad +come forth and lock the door of the old foundation school, which +marries its hoary basement to the soaring Gothic of the church, and +carry his big responsible key into one of the quiet canonical houses; +and then stood musing together on the effect on one's mind of having +in one's boyhood haunted such cathedral shades as a King's scholar, +and yet kept ruddy with much cricket in misty meadows by the Severn. +On the third morning we betook ourselves to Lockley Park, having +learned that the greater part of it was open to visitors, and that, +indeed, on application, the house was occasionally shown. + +Within its broad enclosure many a declining spur of the great hills +melted into parklike slopes and dells. A long avenue wound and circled +from the outermost gate through an untrimmed woodland, whence you +glanced at further slopes and glades and copses and bosky recesses--at +everything except the limits of the place. It was as free and wild and +untended as the villa of an Italian prince; and I have never seen the +stern English fact of property put on such an air of innocence. The +weather had just become perfect; it was one of the dozen exquisite +days of the English year--days stamped with a refinement of purity +unknown in more liberal climes. It was as if the mellow brightness, as +tender as that of the primroses which starred the dark waysides like +petals wind-scattered over beds of moss, had been meted out to us by +the cubic foot--tempered, refined, recorded! + + + + +II + +TURGENEFF'S WORLD[67] + + +We hold to the good old belief that the presumption, in life, is in +favor of the brighter side, and we deem it, in art, an indispensable +condition of our interest in a deprest observer that he should have at +least tried his best to be cheerful. The truth, we take it, lies for +the pathetic in poetry and romance very much where it lies for the +"immoral." Morbid pathos is reflective pathos; ingenious pathos, +pathos not freshly born of the occasion; noxious immorality is +superficial immorality, immorality without natural roots in the +subject. We value most the "realists" who have an ideal of delicacy +and the elegiasts who have an ideal of joy. + +[Footnote 67: From "French Poets and Novelists," published by +Macmillan & Company, of London.] + +"Picturesque gloom, possibly," a thick and thin admirer of M. +Turgeneff's may say to us, "at least you will admit that it is +picturesque." This we heartily concede, and, recalled to a sense of +our author's brilliant diversity and ingenuity, we bring our +restrictions to a close. To the broadly generous side of his +imagination it is impossible to pay exaggerated homage, or, indeed, +for that matter, to its simple intensity and fecundity. No romancer +has created a greater number of the figures that breathe and move and +speak, in their habits as they might have lived; none, on the whole, +seems to us to have had such a masterly touch in portraiture, none +has mingled so much ideal beauty with so much unsparing reality. His +sadness has its element of error, but it has also its larger element +of wisdom. Life is, in fact, a battle. On this point optimists and +pessimists agree. Evil is insolent and strong; beauty enchanting but +rare; goodness very apt to be weak; folly very apt to be defiant; +wickedness to carry the day; imbeciles to be in great places, people +of sense in small, and mankind generally, unhappy. But the world as it +stands is no illusion, no fantasm, no evil dream of a night; we wake +up to it again for ever and ever; we can neither forget it nor deny it +nor dispense with it. We can welcome experience as it comes, and give +it what it demands, in exchange for something which it is idle to +pause to call much or little so long as it contributes to swell the +volume of consciousness. In this there is mingled pain and delight, +but over the mysterious mixture there hovers a visible rule, that bids +us learn to will and seek to understand. + +So much as this we seem to decipher between the lines of M. +Turgeneff's minutely written chronicle. He himself has sought to +understand as zealously as his most eminent competitors. He gives, at +least, no meager account of life, and he has done liberal justice to +its infinite variety. This is his great merit; his great defect, +roughly stated, is a tendency to the abuse of irony. He remains, +nevertheless, to our sense, a very welcome mediator between the world +and our curiosity. If we had space, we should like to set forth that +he is by no means our ideal story-teller--this honorable genius +possessing, attributively, a rarer skill than the finest required for +producing an artful _rechauffe_ of the actual. But even for better +romancers we must wait for a better world. Whether the world in its +higher state of perfection will occasionally offer color to scandal, +we hesitate to pronounce; but we are prone to conceive of the ultimate +novelist as a personage altogether purged of sarcasm. The imaginative +force now expended in this direction he will devote to describing +cities of gold and heavens of sapphire. But, for the present, we +gratefully accept M. Turgeneff, and reflect that his manner suits the +most frequent mood of the greater number of readers. If he were a +dogmatic optimist we suspect that, as things go, we should long ago +have ceased to miss him from our library. The personal optimism of +most of us no romancer can confirm or dissipate, and our personal +troubles, generally, place fictions of all kinds in an impertinent +light. To our usual working mood the world is apt to seem M. +Turgeneff's hard world, and when, at moments, the strain and the +pressure deepen, the ironical element figures not a little in our form +of address to those short-sighted friends who have whispered that it +is an easy one. + + +END OF VOL. X + + + + +INDEX TO THE TEN VOLUMES + +[Roman numerals indicate volumes, Arabic numerals indicate pages] + + +Adams, Henry; + biographical note on, X, 219; + Jefferson's retirement, 219. + +Adams, John; + biographical note on, IX, 87; + articles by--on his nomination of Washington to be + commander-in-chief, 87; + an estimate of Franklin, 90. + +Adams, John Quincy; + biographical note on, IX, 133; + articles by--of his mother, 133; + the moral taint inherent in slavery, 135. + +Addison, Joseph; + biographical note on, III, 236; + articles by--in Westminster Abbey, 236; + Will Honeycomb and his marriage, 240; + on pride of birth, 246; + Sir Roger and his home, 251. + +Aldrich, Thomas Bailey; + biographical note on, X, 195; + articles by--a sunrise in Stillwater, 195; + the fight at Slatter's Hill, 198; + on returning from Europe, 204. + +Andersen, Hans Christian; + biographical note on, VIII, 231; + the Emperor's new clothes, 231. + +Aquinas, St. Thomas; + biographical note on, VII, 12; + a definition of happiness, 12. + +Aristotle; + biographical note on, I, 149; + articles by--what things are pleasant, 149; + the lite most desirable, 155; + ideal husbands and wives, 158; + happiness as an end of human action, 165. + +Arnold, Matthew; + biographical note on, VI, 208; + on the motive for culture, 208. + +Ascham, Roger; + biographical note on, III, 40; + article by--on gentle methods in teaching, 40. + +Aucassin and Nicolette; + note on the authorship of the work bearing that name, VII, 30; + a passage from the book, 30. + +Audubon, John James; + biographical note on, IX, 144; + where the mocking-bird dwells, 144. + +Augustine, Aurelius St.; + biographical note on, VII, 3; + on imperial power for good and bad men 3. + + +Bacon, Francis; + biographical note on, III, 53; + essays by--of travel, 53; + of riches, 56; + of youth and age, 60; + of revenge, 63; + of marriage and single life, 65; + of envy, 67; + of goodness and goodness of nature, 74; + of studies, 77; + of regiment of health, 79. + +Balzac, Honore de; + biographical note on, VII, 210; + articles by--the death of Pere Goriot, 210; + Birotteau's early married life, 215. + +Bancroft, George; + biographical note on, IX, 217; + the fate of Evangeline's countrymen, 217. + +Beaconsfield, Lord; + biographical note on, VI, 31; + on Jerusalem by moonlight, 31. + +Bellay, Joachim du; + biographical note on, VII, 87; + why old French was not as rich as Greek and Latin, 87. + +Blackstone, Sir William; + biographical note on, IV, 169; + on professional soldiers in free countries, 169. + +Boccaccio, Giovanni; + biographical note on, VIII, 167; + the patient Griselda, 167. + +Boethius, Anicius; + biographical note on, VII, 6; + on the highest happiness, 6. + +Bolingbroke, Lord; + biographical note on, IV, 32; + articles by--of the shortness of human life, 32; + rules for the study of history, 36. + +Boswell, James; + biographical note on V, 3; + articles by--Boswell's introduction to Dr. Johnson, 3; + Johnson's audience with George III, 8; + the meeting of Johnson and John Wilkes, 15; + Johnson's wedding-day, 21. + +Bradford, William; + biographical note on, IX, 11; + his account of the landing of the Pilgrims, 11. + +Bronte, Charlotte; + biographical note on, VI, 119; + of the author of "Vanity Fair," 119. + +Brown, John; + biographical note on, VI, 56; + of Rab and the game chicken, 56. + +Browne, Sir Thomas; + biographical note on, III, 114; + articles by--of charity in judgments, 114; + nothing strictly immortal, 116. + +Bryant, William Cullen; + biographical note on, IX, 194; + an October day in Florence, 194. + +Buckle, Henry Thomas; + biographical note on, VI, 198; + articles by--the isolation of Spain, 198; + George III and the elder Pitt, 204. + +Bunyan, John; + biographical note on, III, 165; + articles by--a dream of the Celestial City, 165; + the death of Valiant-for-truth and of Stand-fast, 169; + ancient Vanity Fair, 172. + +Burke, Edmund; + biographical note on, IV, 194; + articles by--the principles of good taste, 194; + a letter to a noble lord, 207; + on the death of his son, 212; + Marie Antoinette, 214. + +Burnet, Gilbert; + biographical note on, III, 195; + on Charles II, 195. + +Bury, Richard de; + biographical note on, III, 3; + in praise of books, 3. + +Byrd, William; + biographical note on, IX, 38; + at the home of Colonel Spotswood, 38. + +Byron, Lord; + biographical note on, V, 134; + articles by--his mother's treatment of him, 134; + to his wife after the separation, 138; + to Sir Walter Scott, 140; + of art and nature as poetical subjects, 143. + + +Caesar, Julius; + biographical note on, II, 61; + articles by--the building of the bridge across the Rhine, 61; + the invasion of Britain, 64; + overcoming the Nervii, 71; + the Battle of Pharsalia and the death of Pompey, 78. + +Calvin, John; + biographical note on, VII, 84; + of freedom for the will, 84. + +Carlyle, Thomas; + biographical note on, V, 179; + articles by--Charlotte Corday, 179; + the blessedness of work, 187; + Cromwell, 190; + in praise of those who toil, 201; + the certainty of justice, 202; + the greatness of Scott, 206; + Boswell and his book, 214; + might Burns have been saved, 223. + +Casanova, Jacques (Chevalier de Seingalt); + biographical note on, VIII, 200; + an interview with Frederick the Great, 200. + +Cato, the Censor; + biographical note on, II, 3; + on work on a Roman Farm, 3. + +Caxton, William; + biographical note on, III, 22; + on true nobility and chivalry, 22. + +Cellini, Benvenuto; + biographical note on, VIII, 182; + the casting of his Perseus and Medusa, 182. + +Cervantes, Miguel de; + biographical note on, VIII, 218; + articles by--the beginnings of Don Quixote's Career, 218; + how Don Quixote died, 224. + +Channing, William E.; + biographical note on, IX, 139; + of greatness in Napoleon, 139. + +Chateaubriand, Viscomte de; + biographical note on, VII, 182; + in an American forest, 182. + +Chaucer, Geoffrey; + biographical note on, III, 17; + on acquiring and using riches, 17. + +Chesterfield, Lord; + biographical note on, IV, 66; + articles by--on good manners, dress and the world, 66; + of attentions to ladies, 71. + +Cicero; + biographical note on, II, 8; + articles by--the blessings of old age, 8; + on the death of his daughter Tullia, 34; + of brave and elevated spirits, 37; + of Scipio's death and of friendship, 43. + +Clarendon, Lord; + biographical note on, III, 144; + on Charles I, 144. + +Coleridge, Samuel Taylor; + biographical note on, V, 70; + articles by--does fortune favor fools? 70; + the destiny of the United States, 76. + +Comines, Philipe de; + biographical note on, VII, 46; + the character of Louis XI, 46. + +Cooper, James Fenimore; + biographical note on, IX, 170; + articles by--his father's arrival at Otsego Lake, 170; + running the gantlet, 178; + Leather-stocking's farewell, 185. + +Cowley, Abraham; + biographical note on, III, 156; + articles by--of obscurity, 156; + of procrastination, 159. + +Cowper, William; + biographical note on, IV, 217; + articles by--on keeping one's self employed, 217; + Johnson's treatment of Milton, 219; + the publication of his books, 221. + +Curtis, George William; + biographical note on, X, 183; + our cousin the curate, 183. + + +Dana, Charles A.; + biographical note on, X, 146; + Greeley as a man of genius, 146. + +Dana, Richard Henry (the younger); + biographical note on, X, 93; + a fierce gale under a clear sky, 93. + +D'Angouleme, Marguerite; + biographical note on, VII, 53; + of husbands who are unfaithful, 53. + +Dante Alighieri; + biographical note on, VIII, 152; + articles by--that long descent makes no man noble, 152; + of Beatrice and her death, 157. + +Darwin, Charles; + biographical note on, VI, 47; + articles by--on variations in mammals, birds and fishes, 47; + on the genesis of his great book, 51. + +Daudet, Alphonse; + biographical note on, VIII, 55; + articles by--a great man's widow, 55; + his first dress coat, 61. + +Defoe, Daniel; + biographical note on, III, 201; + the shipwreck of Crusoe, 201; + the rescue of Man Friday, 204; + the time of the great plague, 211. + +De Quincey, Thomas; + biographical note on, V, 115; + articles by--dreams of an opium eater, 115; + Joan of Arc, 123; + Charles Lamb, 128. + +Descartes, Rene; + biographical note on, VII, 107; + of material things and of the existence of God, 107. + +Dickens, Charles; + biographical note on, VI, 86; + articles by--Sydney Carton's death, 86; + Bob Sawyer's party, 88; + Dick Swiveler and the Marchioness, 97; + a happy return of the day, 105. + +Dryden, John; + biographical note on, III, 181; + of Elizabethan dramatists, 181. + +Dumas, Alexander; + biographical note on, VII, 241; + the shoulder, the belt and the handkerchief, 241. + + +Edwards, Jonathan; + biographical note on, IX, 44; + on liberty and moral agencies, 44. + +Eliot, George; + biographical note on, VI, 167; + the Hall Farm, 167. + +Emerson, Ralph Waldo; + biographical note on, IX, 223; + articles by--Thoreau's broken task, 223; + the intellectual honesty of Montaigne, 229; + his visit to Carlyle at Craigenputtock, 231. + +Epictetus; + biographical note on, I, 223; + articles by--on freedom, 223; + on friendship, 229; + the philosopher and the crowd, 235. + +Erasmus, Desiderius; + biographical note on, VIII, 209; + specimens of his wit and wisdom, 209. + + +Fielding, Henry; + biographical note on, IV, 75; + articles by--Tom the hero enters the stage, 75; + Partridge sees Garrick at the play, 83; + Mr. Adams in a political light, 89. + +Flaubert, Gustave; + biographical note on, VIII, 22; + Yonville and its people, 22. + +Fox, George; + biographical note on, III, 161; + an interview with Oliver Cromwell, 161. + +Foxe, John; + biographical note on, III, 45; + on the death of Anne Boleyn, 45. + +Franklin, Benjamin; + biographical note on, IX, 51; + articles by--his first entry into Philadelphia, 51; + warnings Braddock did not heed, 55; + how to draw lightning from the clouds, 59; + the way to wealth, 61; + a dialog with the gout, 68; + a proposal to Madame Helvetius, 76. + +Freeman, Edward A.; + biographical note on, VI, 214; + the death of William the Conqueror, 214. + +Froissart, Jean; + biographical note on, VII, 39; + the battle of Crecy, 39. + +Froude, James Anthony; + biographical note on, VI, 122; + articles by--of history as a science, 122; + the character of Henry VIII, 132; + Caesar's mission, 136. + +Fuller, Margaret; + biographical note on, X, 52; + articles by--her visit to George Sand, 52; + two glimpses of Carlyle, 54. + +Fuller, Thomas; + biographical note on, III, 149; + on the qualities of the good school-master, 149. + + +Gautier, Theophile; + biographical note on, VIII, 14; + Pharaoh's entry into Thebes, 14. + +Gibbon, Edward; + biographical note on, IV, 226; + articles by--the romance of his youth, 226; + the inception and completion of his "Decline and Fall," 229; + the fall of Zenobia, 230; + Alaric's entry into Rome, 237; + the death of Hosein, 242; + the causes of the destruction of the city of Rome, 246. + +Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von; + biographical note on, VIII, 95; + articles by--on first reading Shakespeare, 95; + the coronation of Joseph II, 99. + +Goldsmith, Oliver; + biographical note on, IV, 177; + articles by--the ambitions of the vicar's family, 177; + sagacity in insects, 182; + a Chinaman's view of London, 188. + +Gray, Thomas; + biographical note on, IV, 141; + articles by--Warwick Castle, 141; + to his friend Mason on the death of Mason's mother, 143; + on his own writings, 144; + his friendship for Bonstetten, 146. + +Greeley, Horace; + biographical note on, X, 58; + the fatality of self-seeking in editors and authors, 58. + +Green, John Richard; + biographical note on, VI, 242; + on George Washington, 242. + +Grote, George; + biographical note on, V, 165; + articles by--the mutilation of the Hermae, 165; + if Alexander had lived, 172. + +Guizot, Francois; + biographical note on, VII, 189; + Shakespeare as an example of civilization, 189. + + +Hamilton, Alexander; + biographical note on, IX, 123; + articles by--of the failure of the Confederation, 123; + his reasons for not declining Burr's challenge, 129. + +Harrison, Frederick; + biographical note on, VI, 230; + the great books of the world, 230. + +Harte, Bret; + biographical note on, X, 224; + articles by--Peggy Moffat's inheritance, 224; + John Chinaman, 236; + M'liss goes to school, 240. + +Hawthorne, Nathaniel; + biographical note on, IX, 235; + articles by--occupants of an old manse, 235; + Arthur Dimmesdale on the scaffold, 242; + of life at Brook Farm, 248; + the death of Judge Pyncheon, 252. + +Hay, John; + biographical note on, X, 211; + Lincoln's early fame, 211. + +Hazlitt, William; + biographical note on, V, 111; + on Hamlet, 111. + +Heine, Heinrich; + biographical note on, VIII, 139; + reminiscences of Napoleon, 139. + +Herodotus; + biographical note on, I, 3; + articles by--Solon's words of wisdom to Croesus, 3; + Babylon and its capture by Cyrus, 9; + the pyramid of Cheops, 18; + the story of Periander's son, 20. + +Holmes, Oliver Wendell; + biographical note on, X, 31; + articles by--of doctors, lawyers and ministers, 31; + of the genius of Emerson, 36; + the house in which the professor lived, 42; + of women who put on airs, 49. + +Howell, James; + biographical note on, III, 106; + articles by--the Bucentaur in Venice, 106; + the city of Rome in 1621, 109. + +Howells, William Dean; + biographical note on, X, 207; + to Albany by the night boat, 207. + +Hugo, Victor; + biographical note on, VII, 228; + articles by--the Battle of Waterloo, 228; + the beginnings and expansions of Paris, 235. + +Humboldt, Alexander von; + biographical note on, VIII, 130; + an essay on man, 130. + +Hume, David; + biographical note on, IV, 110; + articles by--on the character of Queen Elizabeth, 110; + the defeat of the Armada, 113; + the first principles of government, 118. + +Huxley, Thomas Henry; + biographical note on, VI, 219; + a piece of chalk, 219. + + +Ibsen, Henrik; + biographical note on, VIII, 245; + the thought child, 245. + +Irving, Washington; + biographical note on, IX, 147; + articles by--the last of the Dutch governors of New York, 147; + the awakening of Rip Van Winkle, 151; + at Abbotsford with Scott, 161. + + +James, Henry; + biographical note on, X, 246; + articles by--among the Malvern Hills, 246; + Turgeneff's world, 252. + +Jefferson, Thomas; + biographical note on, IX, 98; + articles by--when the Bastile fell, 98; + the futility of disputes, 106; + of blacks and whites in the South, 108; + his account of Logan's famous speech, 114. + +Johnson, Samuel; + biographical note on, IV, 94; + articles by--on publishing his "Dictionary," 94; + Pope and Dryden compared, 97; + his letter to Chesterfield on the completion of his "Dictionary," 101; + on the advantage of living in a garret, 104. + +Joinville, Jean de; + biographical note on, VII, 27; + Greek fire in battle described, 27. + +Jonson, Ben; + biographical note on, III, 87; + of Shakespeare and other wits, 87. + + +Kempis, Thomas a; + biographical note on VII, 16; + of eternal life and of striving for it, 16. + +Kinglake, Alexander W.; + biographical note on, VI, 42; + articles by--on mocking at the Sphinx, 42; + on the beginnings of the Crimean war 44. + +Knox, John; + biographical note on, III, 36; + his account of his interview with Mary Queen of Scots, 36. + + +Lamartine, Alphonse de; + biographical note on, VII, 195; + of Mirabeau's origin and place in history, 195. + +Lamb, Charles; + biographical note on, V, 93; + articles by--dream children, 93; + poor relations, 99; + the origin of roast pig, 102; + that we should rise with the lark, 107. + +Landor, Walter Savage; + biographical note on, V, 87; + articles by--the death of Hofer, 87; + Napoleon and Pericles, 91. + +La Rochefoucauld, Duc de; + biographical note on, VII, 112; + selections from the "Maxims," 112. + +Le Sage, Alain Rene; + biographical note on, VII, 129; + articles by--in the service of Dr. Sangrado, 129; + as an archbishop's favorite, 135. + +Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim; + biographical note on, VIII, 86; + articles by--poetry and painting compared, 86; + of suffering in restraint, 89. + +Livy; + biographical note on, II, 105; + articles by--Horatius Cocles at the bridge, 105; + Hannibal's crossing of the Alps, 108; + Hannibal and Scipio at Zama, 117. + +Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth; + biographical note on, X, 3; + musings in Pere Lachaise, 3. + +Lowell, James Russell; + biographical note on, X, 125; + articles by--the poet as prophet, 125; + the first of the moderns, 129; + of faults found in Shakespeare, 133; + Americans as successors of the Dutch, 138. + +Lucian; + biographical note on, I, 237; + articles by--a descent to the unknown, 237; + among the philosophers, 243; + of liars and lying, 253. + +Luther, Martin; + biographical note on, VIII, 79; + some of his table talk and sayings, 79. + +Lytton, Edward Bulwer; + biographical note on, VI, 21; + his description of the descent of Vesuvius on Pompeii, 21. + + +Macaulay, Lord; + biographical note on, V, 233; + articles by--Puritan and Royalist, 233; + Cromwell's army, 238; + the opening of the trial of Warren Hastings, 242; + the gift of Athens to man, 248; + the pathos of Byron's life, 251. + +Machiavelli, Niccolo; + biographical note on, VIII, 178; + ought princes to keep their promises, 178. + +Malory, Sir Thomas; + biographical note on, III, 26; + article by--on the finding of a sword for Arthur, 26. + +Mandeville, Sir John; + biographical note on, III, 8; + articles by--the route from England to Constantinople, 8; + at the court of the great Chan, 11. + +Marcus Aurelius; + biographical note on, II, 248; + his debt to others, 248. + +Mather, Cotton; + biographical note on, IX, 33; + in praise of John Eliot, 33. + +Maupassant, Guy de; + biographical note on, VIII, 69; + Madame Jeanne's last days, 69. + +Merivale, Charles; + biographical note on, VI, 37; + on the personality of Augustus, 37. + +Milton, John; + biographical note on, III, 121; + articles by--on his own literary ambitions, 121; + a complete education defined, 126; + on reading in his youth, 129; + in defense of books, 131; + a noble and puissant nation, 135; + of fugitive and cloistered virtue, 141. + +Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley; + biographical note on, IV, 58; + articles by--on happiness in the matrimonial state, 58; + inoculation for the smallpox, 63. + +Montaigne, Michel de; + biographical note on, VII, 90; + articles by--a word to his readers, 90; + of society and solitude, 92; + of his own library, 94; + that the soul discharges her passions among false objects where + true ones are wanting, 99; + that men are not to judge of our happiness until after death, 102. + +Montesquieu, Baron de; + biographical note on, VII, 150; + articles by--of the causes which destroyed Rome, 150; + of the relation of laws to different human beings, 156. + +More, Sir Thomas; + biographical note on, III, 29; + on life in Utopia, 29. + +Morley, John; + biographical note on, VI, 244; + on Voltaire as an author and man of action, 244. + +Morris, Gouverneur; + biographical note on, IX, 117; + articles by--the opening of the French States-General, 117; + the execution of Louis XVI, 120. + +Motley, John Lothrop; + biographical note on, X, 68; + articles by--Charles V and Phillip II in Brussels, 63; + the arrival of the Spanish Armada, 74; + "The Spanish Fury," 84. + +Musset, Alfred de; + biographical note on, VIII, 8; + Titian's son after a night at play, 8. + + +Newman, John Henry; + biographical note on, VI, 3; + articles by--on the beginnings of tractarianism, 3; + on his submission to the Catholic Church, 7; + of Athens as a true university, 13. + + +Paine, Thomas; + biographical note on, IX, 94; + in favor of the separation of the colonies from Great Britain, 94. + +Parkman, Francis; + biographical note on, X, 157; + articles by--Champlain's battle with the Iroquois, 157; + the death of LaSalle, 161; + the coming of Frontenae to Canada, 167; + the death of Isaac Jogues, 171; + why New France failed, 176; + the return of the Coureurs-de-Bois, 179. + +Parton, James; + biographical note on, X, 150; + Aaron Burr and Madame Jumel, 150. + +Pascal, Blaise; + biographical note on, VII, 118; + of the prevalence of self-love, 118. + +Pepys, Samuel; + biographical note on, III, 185; + on various doings of Mr. and Mrs. Pepys, 185; + of England without Cromwell, 191. + +Petrarch, Francis; + biographical note on, VIII, 162; + of good and evil fortune, 162. + +Plato; + biographical note on, I, 95; + articles by--the image of the cave, 95; + of good and evil, 103; + Socrates in praise of love, 108; + the praise of Socrates by Alcibiades, 121; + the refusal of Socrates to escape from prison, 133; + the death of Socrates, 143. + +Pliny, the Elder; + biographical note on, II, 162; + articles by--the qualities of the dog, 162; + three great artists of Greece, 165. + +Pliny, the younger; + biographical note on, II, 218; + articles by--the Christians in his province, 218; + to Tacitus on the eruption of Vesuvius, 222. + +Plutarch; + biographical note on, I, 190; + articles by--Demosthenes and Cicero compared, 190; + the assassination of Caesar, 197; + Cleopatra's barge, 207; + the death of Antony and Cleopatra, 211. + +Poe, Edgar Allan; + biographical note on, X, 11; + articles by--the cask of Amontillado, 11; + of Hawthorne and the short story, 19; + of Willis, Bryant, Halleck and Macaulay, 25. + +Polo, Marco; + biographical note on, VIII, 147; + a description of Japan, 147. + +Polybius; + biographical note on, I, 171; + articles by--the battle of Cannae, 171; + Hannibal's advance on Rome, 178; + the defense of Syracuse by Archimedes, 183. + +Pope, Alexander; + biographical note on, IV, 41; + articles by--an ancient English country seat, 41; + his compliments to Lady Mary, 47; + how to make an epic poem, 52. + +Prescott, William H.; + biographical note on, IX, 198; + articles by--the fate of Egmont and Hoorne, 198; + the genesis of "Don Quixote," 209. + + +Quintillian; + biographical note on, II, 171; + articles by--on the orator as a good man, 171. + + +Rabelais, Francois; + biographical note on, VII, 58; + articles by--Gargantua and his childhood, 58; + Gargantua's education, 64; + of the founding of an ideal abbey, 74. + +Raleigh, Sir Walter; + biographical note on, III, 49; + on the mutability of human affairs, 49. + +Renan, Joseph Ernest; + biographical note on, VIII, 30; + the Roman empire in robust youth, 30. + +Rousseau, Jean Jacques; + biographical note on, VII, 170; + articles by--of Christ and Socrates, 170; + of the management of children, 173. + +Ruskin, John; + biographical note on, VI, 140; + articles by--of the history and sovereignty of Venice, 140; + St. Marks at Venice, 151; + of water, 159. + + +Saint-Simon, Duc de; + biographical note on, VII, 141; + articles by--the death of the Dauphin, 141; + the public watching the king and madame, 145. + +Sallust; + biographical note on, II, 91; + articles by--the genesis of Catiline, 91; + the fate of the conspirators, 98. + +Sand, George; + biographical note on, VII, 250; + Leila and the poet, 250. + +Schiller, Friedrich von; + biographical note on, VIII, 107; + articles by--the battle of Lutzen, 107; + Philip II and the Netherlands, 117. + +Schlegel, August Wilhelm von; + biographical note on, VIII, 124; + on Shakespeare's "Macbeth," 124. + +Scott, Sir Walter; + biographical note on, V, 31; + articles by--the arrival of the master of Ravenswood, 31; + the death of Meg Merriles, 35; + a vision of Rob Roy, 40; + Queen Elizabeth and Amy Robsart at Kenilworth, 48; + the illness and death of Lady Scott, 62. + +Seneca; + biographical note on, II, 128; + articles by--the wise man, 128; + consolation for the loss of friends, 134; + to Nero on clemency, 141; + the pilot, 149; + a happy life, 153. + +Sevigne, Madame de; + biographical note on, VII, 123; + articles by--great news from Paris, 123; + an imposing funeral described, 125. + +Sewall, Samuel; + biographical note on, IX, 19; + his account of how he courted Madame Winthrop, 19. + +Shakespeare, William; + biographical note on, III, 82; + the speech of Brutus to his countrymen, 82; + Shylock in defense of his race, 83; + Hamlet to the players, 85. + +Shelley, Percy Bysshe; + biographical note on, V, 151; + articles by--in defense of poetry, 151; + the baths of Caracalla, 155; + the ruins of Pompeii, 158. + +Smith, Adam; + biographical note on, IV, 163; + articles by--of ambition misdirected, 163; + the advantages of a division of labor, 166. + +Smith, John; + biographical note on, IX, 3; + his story of Pocahontas, 3. + +Southey, Robert; + biographical note on, V, 80; + Nelson's death at Trafalgar, 80. + +Spencer, Herbert; + biographical note on, VI, 173; + articles by--the origin of professional occupations, 173; + self-dependence and paternalism, 181; + the ornamental and the useful in education, 186; + reminiscences of his boyhood, 191; + a tribute to E. L. Youmans, 195; + why he never married, 197. + +Stael, Madame de; + biographical note on, VII, 178; + of Napoleon Bonaparte, 178. + +Steele, Sir Richard; + biographical note on, IV, 3; + articles by--of companions and flatterers, 3; + the story-teller and his art, 7; + Sir Roger and the widow, 10; + the Coverley family portraits, 16; + on certain symptoms of greatness, 21; + how to be happy tho married, 26. + +Sterne, Laurence; + biographical note on, IV, 123; + articles by--the starling in captivity, 123; + to Moulines with Maria, 127; + the death of LeFevre, 129; + passages from the romance of my Uncle Toby and the widow, 131. + +Stevenson, Robert Louis; + biographical note on, VI, 247; + articles by--Francis Villon's terrors, 247; + the lantern bearers, 251. + +Suetonius; + biographical note on, II, 231; + articles by--the last days of Augustus, 231; + the good deeds of Nero, 236; + the death of Nero, 241. + +Swift, Jonathan; + biographical note on, III, 216; + on pretense in philosophers, 216; + on the hospitality of the vulgar, 221; + the art of lying in politics, 224; + a meditation upon a broomstick, 228; + Gulliver among the giants, 230. + + +Tacitus; + biographical note on, II, 177; + articles by--from Republican to Imperial Rome, 177; + the funeral of Germanicus, 183; + the death of Seneca, 189; + the burning of Rome by order of Nero, 193; + the burning of the capitol at Rome, 202; + the siege of Cremona, 205; + Agricola, 212. + +Taine, Hippolite Adolphe; + biographical note on, VIII, 38; + articles by--on Thackeray as a satirist, 38; + on the king's getting up for the day, 43. + +Taylor, Jeremy; + biographical note on, III, 153; + on the benefits of adversity, 153. + +Thackeray, William M.; + biographical note on, VI, 62; + articles by--the imperturbable Marlborough, 62; + the ball before the battle of Waterloo, 65; + the death of Colonel Newcome, 75; + London in the time of the first George, 80. + +Thiers, Louis Adolph; + biographical note on, VII, 201; + the burning of Moscow, 201. + +Thoreau, Henry David; + biographical note on, X, 99; + articles by--the building of his house at Walden Pond, 99; + how to make two small ends meet, 103; + on reading the ancient classics, 115; + of society and solitude, 120. + +Thucydides; + biographical note on, I, 25; + articles by--the Athenians and Spartans contrasted, 25; + the plague at Athens, 38; + the sailing of the Athenian fleet for Sicily, 45; + the completion of the Athenian defeat at Syracuse, 52. + +Tocqueville, Alexis de; + biographical note on, VIII, 3; + on the tyranny of the American majority, 3. + +Tolstoy, Count Leo; + biographical note on, VIII, 252; + Shakespeare not a great genius, 252. + +Turgeneff, Ivan; + biographical note on, VIII, 239; + Bazarov's death, 239. + + +Vasari, Giorgio; + biographical note on, VIII, 192; + of Raphael and his early death, 192. + +Vigny, Alfred de; + biographical note on, VII, 222; + Richelieu's way with his master, 222. + +Ville-Hardouin, Geoffrey de; + biographical note on, VII, 23; + the sack of Constantinople, 23. + +Voltaire, Francois Arouet; + biographical note on, VII, 160; + articles by--of Bacon's greatness, 160; + England's regard for men of letters, 164. + + +Walpole, Horace; + biographical note on, IV, 149; + articles by--on Hogarth, 149; + the war in America, 154; + the death of George II, 155. + +Walton, Izaak; + biographical note on, III, 92; + articles by--the antiquity of angling, 92; + of the trout, 96; + the death of George Herbert, 101. + +Ward, Artemus; + biographical note on, X, 191; + Forrest as Othello, 191. + +Washington, George; + biographical note on, IX, 79; + articles by--to his wife on taking command of the army, 79; + of his army in Cambridge, 81; + to the Marquis de Chastellux on his marriage, 84. + +White, Gilbert; + biographical note on, IV, 158; + on the chimney swallow, 158. + +Wordsworth, William; + biographical note on, V, 23; + a poet defined, 23. + +Wyclif, John; + biographical note on, III, 4; + a passage from his translation of the Bible, 14. + + +Xenophon; + biographical note on, I, 68; + articles by--the character of Cyrus the younger, 68; + the Greek army in the snows of Armenia, 75; + the battle of Leuctra, 81; + the army of the Spartans, 84; + how to choose and manage saddle horses, 87. + + +Zola, Emile; + biographical note on, VIII, 48; + Napoleon III in time of war, 48. + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Best of the World's Classics, +Restricted to Prose, Vol. X (of X) - America - II, Index, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEST OF THE WORLD'S CLASSICS *** + +***** This file should be named 29145.txt or 29145.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/1/4/29145/ + +Produced by Joseph R. Hauser, Sankar Viswanathan, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/29145.zip b/29145.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..97dacfa --- /dev/null +++ b/29145.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..660da17 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #29145 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29145) |
