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- display: table; - margin: 1em auto; - text-align: center} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes { - margin: 1em auto; - border: 1px solid #000} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-size: x-small; - line-height: .1em; - text-decoration: none; - white-space: nowrap /* keeps footnote on same line as referenced text */} - -.footnote p:first-child { - text-indent: -2.5em} - -.footnote p { - margin: 1em; - padding-left: 2.5em} - -.label { - width: 2em; - display: inline-block; - text-align: right; - text-decoration: none} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - color: #004200; - position: absolute; - right: 5px; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-size: small; - text-align: right; -} /* page numbers */ - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote { - background-color: #E6E6FA; - border: #000 solid 1px; - color: black; - margin: 1em auto; - padding: 1em} - -@media handheld { -p.drop:first-letter { - float: left; - clear: left} -} - -/* Poetry */ - -.poetry { - display: block; - margin: auto; - text-align: center} - -.poem { - margin: auto; - display: inline-block; - text-align: left} - -.poem .stanza { - margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em} - .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 0.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i16 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i19 {display: block; margin-left: 9.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i20 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 2.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i7 {display: block; margin-left: 3.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i9 {display: block; margin-left: 4.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of American Thumb-prints, by Kate Stephens - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: American Thumb-prints - -Author: Kate Stephens - -Release Date: July 7, 2017 [EBook #55065] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN THUMB-PRINTS *** - - - - -Produced by Wayne Hammond and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> - -<h1>AMERICAN THUMB-PRINTS</h1> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span></p> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">In</span> shorter form “The New England -Woman” appeared in <i>The Atlantic -Monthly</i>, and under other title and -form “Up-to-Date Misogyny” and -“Plagiarizing Humors of Benjamin -Franklin” in <i>The Bookman</i>, which -periodicals have courteously allowed -republication -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span></p> - -<div class="title_page"> -AMERICAN<br /> -THUMB-PRINTS<br /> -<br /> -<span class="x-large table">METTLE OF OUR<br /> -MEN AND WOMEN</span><br /> -<br /> -<span class="medium table">BY<br /> -<span class="x-large">KATE STEPHENS</span></span><br /> - -<img class="figcenter" src="images/colophon.jpg" alt="" /><br /> - -<span class="small table">PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON<br /> -<span class="large">J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br /> -1905</span></span> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span></p> - -<p class="copy"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1905<br /> -By J. B. Lippincott Company</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Published April, 1905<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<i>Electrotyped and Printed by<br /> -J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U. S. A.</i><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span></p> - -<p class="caption"> -IN MOST LOVING MEMORY OF<br /> -MY FATHER<br /> -<br /> -<span class="large">NELSON TIMOTHY STEPHENS</span><br /> -<br /> -WHOSE RARE KNOWLEDGE OF MEN AND OF LAW<br /> -WHOSE SENSITIVENESS TO JUSTICE<br /> -HUMAN KINDLINESS<br /> -AND FINE DISDAIN FOR SELF-ADVERTISEMENT<br /> -ARE STILL CHERISHED BY THE NOBLE FOLK<br /> -AMONG WHOM HE SPENT<br /> -THE LAST YEARS OF HIS LIFE<br /> -AT WHOSE INSTANCE IN GREAT MEASURE<br /> -AND UPON WHOSE ADVICE<br /> -THE LAW SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY<br /> -SKETCHED IN THIS BOOK<br /> -WAS IN 1878<br /> -FOUNDED<br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span></p> - -<h2 id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> - -<table> - <tr> - <td /> - <td class="small tdr"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#PURITANS_OF_THE_WEST"><span class="smcap">Puritans of the West</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">11</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#THE_UNIVERSITY_OF_HESPERUS"><span class="smcap">The University of Hesperus</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">35</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#TWO_NEIGHBORS_OF_ST_LOUIS"><span class="smcap">Two Neighbors of St. Louis</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">87</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#THE_NEW_ENGLAND_WOMAN"><span class="smcap">The New England Woman</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">127</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#A_NEW_ENGLAND_ABODE_OF_THE_BLESSED"><span class="smcap">A New England Abode of the Blessed</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">163</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#UP-TO-DATE_MISOGYNY"><span class="smcap">Up-to-date Misogyny</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">187</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#THE_GULLET_SCIENCE">“<span class="smcap">The Gullet Science</span>”</a></td> - <td class="tdr">215</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><a href="#PLAGIARIZING_HUMORS_OF_BENJAMIN_FRANKLIN"><span class="smcap">Plagiarizing Humors of Benjamin Franklin</span></a></td> - <td class="tdr">287</td> - </tr></table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>PURITANS OF THE WEST</h2> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let nouther lufe of friend nor feir of fais,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mufe zow to mank zour Message, or hald bak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ane iot of zour Commissioun, ony wayis<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Call ay quhite, quhite, and blak, that quhilk is blak.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">First he descendit bot of linage small.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As commonly God usis for to call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sempill sort his summoundis til expres.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">John Davidson</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="table">If it be heroism that we require, what was Troy -town to this? -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson</span></span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="PURITANS_OF_THE_WEST">PURITANS OF THE WEST</h2> - -<p>Of local phases of the American spirit, -none has incited more discussion than -that developed in Kansas. The notion -that the citizens of the State are somewhat -phrenetic in experimental meliorism; -that they more than others fall into -abnormal sympathies and are led by -aberrations of the crowd—intoxications -the mind receives in a congregation of -men pitched to an emotional key—this -notion long ago startled peoples more -phlegmatic and less prone to social -vagaries.</p> - -<p>Closer consideration shows the Kansas -populace distinctly simple in mental -habit and independent in judgment. Yet -their old-time Grangerism and Greenbackism, -and their still later Prohibitionism, -Populism, and stay law have -caused that part of the world not so -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -inclined to rainbow-chasing to ask who -they as a people really are, and what -psychopathy they suffer—to assert that -they are dull, unthinking, or, at best, -doctrinaire.</p> - -<p>This judgment antedates our day, as -we said. It was even so far back as in -the time of Abraham Lincoln, when Kansas -was not near the force, nor the promise -of the force, it has since become. -And it was in that earlier and poorer -age of our country when folks queried a -man’s suitability and preparedness for -the senatorial office. Then when Senatorship -fell to General James Lane, and -some one questioned the Free-State fighter’s -fitness for his duties, President Lincoln -is said to have hit off the new -Senator and the new State with “Good -enough for Kansas!” and a shrug of -his bony shoulders. Derogatory catchwords -have had a knack at persisting -since men first tried to get the upper -hand of one another by ridicule, and the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> -terse unsympathy and curl of the lip of -Lincoln’s sayings have kept their use to -our day.</p> - -<p>One outsider, in explaining any new -vagary of the Kansans, suggests, with -sophomore ease, “The foreign element.” -Another tells you, convicting -himself of his own charge, “It is ignorance—away -out there in the back -woods.” “Bad laws,” another conclusively -sets down. Opposed to all these -surmises and guesses are the facts that -in number and efficiency of schools Kansas -ranks beyond many States, and that -in illiteracy the commonwealth in the -last census showed a percentage of 2.9—a -figure below certain older States, -say Massachusetts, with an illiterate -percentage of 5.9, or New York, with 5.5. -As to its early laws, they were framed -in good measure by men and women<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> -of New England blood—of that blood -although their forebears may have -pushed westward from the thin soil of -New England three generations before -the present Kansans were born. Again -its citizens, except an inconsiderable and -ineffective minority, are Americans in -blood and tradition.</p> - -<p>It is in truth in the fact last named, -in the American birth of the people who -gave, and still give, the State its fundamental -key, that we are to find the causes -of Kansas neologism and desire for experiment -in every line that promises -human betterment. It is a case of spiritual -heir-at-law—the persistence of -what the great ecclesiastical reactionist -of our day has anathematized as “the -American Spirit.” For each new ism -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -the Kansans have pursued has been but -another form and working in the popular -brain of the amicus humani generis of -the eighteenth-century Revolutionists, -or, as the people of their time and since -have put it, “liberty, equality, fraternity.”</p> - -<p>Kansas was settled by Americans, -American men and American women -possessed by the one dominating idea of -holding its territory and its wealth to -themselves and their opinions. They -went in first in the fifties with bayonets -packed in Bible boxes. All along railways -running towards their destination -they had boarded trains with the future -grasped close in hand, and sometimes -they were singing Whittier’s lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“We go to rear a wall of men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On Freedom’s southern line,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And plant beside the cotton-tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rugged Northern pine!<br /></span> -<hr class="tb" /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> -<span class="i0">“Upbearing, like the Ark of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Bible in our van,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We go to test the truth of God<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against the fraud of man.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In exalted mood they had chanted this -hymn as their trains pulled into stations -farther on in their journey, and the -lengthening of the day told them they -were daily westering with the sun. They -had carried it in their hearts with Puritan -aggressiveness, with Anglo-Saxon -tenacity and sincerity, as their steamers -paddled up the muddy current of the -Missouri and their canvas-covered -wagons creaked and rumbled over the -sod, concealing then its motherhood of -mighty crops of corn and wheat, upon -which they were to build their home. -They were enthusiasts even on a road -beset with hostiles of the slave State to -the east. Their enthusiasm worked out -in two general lines, one the self-interest -of building themselves a home—towns, -schools, churches,—the other the idealism -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -of the anti-slavery faith. They -were founding a State which was within -a few years to afford to northern forces -in the struggle centring about slavery -the highest percentage of soldiers of -any commonwealth; and their spirit -forecast the sequent fact that troops -from the midst of their self-immolation -would also record the highest percentage -of deaths.</p> - -<p>They came from many quarters to that -territorial settlement of theirs, but the -radical, recalcitrant stock which had -nested in and peopled the northeastern -coast of our country was in the notable -majorities from Western States—from -Indiana, Illinois, Ohio, and Iowa; and -from New England, New York, and -Pennsylvania also. Some came, indeed, -who could trace no descent from Puritan -or Quaker or Huguenot forebear. But -there was still the potent heirship of -spirit.</p> - -<p>To these men nature gave the gift of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -seeing their side of the then universal -question. She added a living sympathy -with workers, and an acute sense of the -poverty and oppression which humanity -at large is always suffering from those -who take because they have power. A -free discussion of slavery and their opposition -to slave-holding had put this -deep down in their hearts.</p> - -<p>Each man of them—and each woman -also—was in fixed principle and earnestness -a pioneer, in pursuit of and dwelling -in a world not yet before the eyes of -flesh but sun-radiant to the eyes of the -spirit—the ideal the pioneer must ever -see—and holding the present and actual -as but a mote in the beam from that -central light.</p> - -<p>From a more humorous point of view, -each man was clearly a Knight of La -Mancha stripped of the mediæval and -Spanish trapping of his prototype. His -Dulcinea—an unexampled combination -of idealism and practicality—his much-enduring -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -wife, upon whose frame and -anxious-eyed face were stamped a yearning -for the graces of life. Her fervor, -with true woman strength, was ever persistent. -“I always compose my poems -best,” said one of the haler of these -dames whose verses piped from a corner -of the University town’s morning journal, -“on wash-day and over the tub.”</p> - -<p>These were the conditions of those -men and women of the fifties and early -sixties to less lifted, more fleshly souls. -The old enthusiasm that lighted our race -in 1620 and many sequent years in Massachusetts -Bay, and the old devotion -that led the Huguenots and other oppressed -peoples to our Southern coasts -and on “over the mountains,” were kindled -afresh. And the old exaltation of -the descendants of these many peoples—the -uplifting that made way for and -supported the act of the Fourth of July -in 1776—rose anew. The flame of an -idea was in the air heating and refining -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -the grossest spirits—and the subtle -forces of the Kansans’ vanguard were -far from the grossest.</p> - -<p>Once in their new home these men and -women lived under circumstances a people -has almost never thriven under—circumstances -which would prey upon -every fibre of calmness, repose, and -sober-mindedness, and possibly in the -end deprive their folk of consideration -for the past and its judgments. “Govern -the Kansas of 1855 and ’56!” exclaimed -Governor Shannon years after -that time. “You might as well have -attempted to govern the devil in hell.” -“Shall the Sabbath never immigrate,” -cried a Massachusetts woman in 1855 -in a letter to friends at home, “and the -commandments too?”</p> - -<p>Among this people was little presence -of what men had wrought. As in the -early settlements of our Atlantic seaboard, -all was to be made, everything to -be done, even to the hewing of logs for -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span> -houses and digging of wells for water; -and in Kansas pressure for energy and -time was vastly increased over those -earlier years by the seaboard. The -draughting of laws for controlling a -mixed population, with elements in it -confessedly there for turbulence and -bloodshed, was for a time secondary to -shingle-making.</p> - -<p>Such primitive efforts were more than -a generation ago—in fact, fifty years. -But the spirit with which those early -comers inaugurated and carried on their -settlement did not perish when the daily -need of its support had passed away. -It still abode as a descent of spirit, -meaning an inheritance of spirit, a contagion -of spirit, and to its characteristic -features we can to-day as easily point—to -its human sympathies and willingness -for experiment—as to the persistence -of a physical mark—the Bourbon -nose in royal portraits, say, or the “Austrian -lips” of the Hapsburg mouth. Its -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -evidences are all about you when you are -within the confines of the present-day -Kansans, and you are reminded of the -Puritanism which still subordinates to -itself much that is alien in Massachusetts; -or you think of the sturdy practicality -of the early Dutch which still -modifies New York; or you may go -farther afield and recall the most persistent -spirit of the Gauls of Cæsar, novis -plerumque rebus student, which to our -time has been the spirit of the Gauls of -the Empire and of President Loubet.</p> - -<p>The Kansan has still his human-heartedness -and his willingness to experiment -for better things. Exploded hypotheses -in manufacture, farming, and other interests -scattered in startling frequency -over the vast acreage of his State, testify -to these traits.</p> - -<p>He has to this day kept his receptivity -of mind. Even now he scorns a consideration -for fine distinctions. He still -loves a buoyant optimism. And for all -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -these reasons he often and readily grants -faith to the fellow who amuses him, who -can talk loud and fast, who promises -much, and who gets the most notices in -his local dailies. He is like the author -of Don Juan, inasmuch as he “wants a -hero,” and at times he is willing to put -up with as grievous a one as was foisted -upon the poet. In the end, however, he -has native bed-rock sense, and as his -politics in their finality show, he commonly -measures rascals aright. But in -his active pursuit and process of finding -them out he has offered himself a spectacle -to less simple-minded, more sophisticated -men.</p> - -<p>Some years ago, in a grove of primeval -oaks, elms, and black-walnuts neighboring -the yellow Kaw and their University -town, those settlers of early days held -an old-time barbecue. The meeting fell -in the gold and translucence of the September -that glorifies that land. Great -crowds of men and women came by rail -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -and by wagon, and walking about in the -shade, or in the purple clouds that rose -from the trampings of many feet and -stood gleaming in the sunshine, they -were stretching hands to one another -and crying each to some new-discovered, -old acquaintance, “Is this you?” “How -long is it now?” “Thirty-five years?” -“You’ve prospered?” and such words -as old soldiers would use having fought -a great fight together—not for pelf or -loot but for moral outcome—and had -then lost one another for many a year.</p> - -<p>Moving among them you would readily -see signs of that “possession of the -god” the Greeks meant when they said -ἐνθουσιαμóς. Characteristic marks of it -were at every turn. There was the -mobile body—nervous, angular, expressive—and -a skin of fine grain. There -was the longish hair, matted, if very fine, -in broad locks; if coarse, standing about -the head in electric stiffness and confusion—the -hair shown in the print of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -John Brown, in fact. There were eyes -often saddened by the sleeplessness of -the idealist—eyes with an uneasy glitter -and a vision directed far away, as if -not noting life, nor death, nor daily -things near by, but fixed rather upon -some startling shape on the horizon. -The teeth were inclined to wedge-shape -and set far apart. There was a firmly -shut and finely curved mouth. “We -make our own mouths,” says Dr. -Holmes. About this people was smouldering -fire which might leap into flame -at any gust of mischance or oppression.</p> - -<p>This describes the appearance in -later decades of the corporate man of -the fifties and early sixties—</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">“to whom was given<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So much of earth, so much of heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And such impetuous blood.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>A sky whose mystery and melancholy, -whose solitary calm and elemental rage -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -stimulate and depress even his penned -and grazing cattle, has spread over -him for more than a generation. With -his intensity and his predisposition -to a new contrat social he and his -descendants have been subjected to Kansas -heat, which at times marks more -than one hundred in the shade, and to -a frost that leaves the check of the thermometer -far below zero. He and his -children, cultivators of their rich soil, -have been subject to off-years in wheat -and corn. They have endured a period -of agricultural depression prolonged -because world-wide. They have been -subject, too, to the manipulation of -boomers.</p> - -<p>Most lymphatic men—any Bœotian, in -fact, but it is long before his fat bottom -lands will make a Bœotian out of a Kansan—most -lymphatic men ploughing, -planting, and simply and honestly living -would be affected to discontent by the -thunder of booms and their kaleidoscopic -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -deceit. Clever and sometimes unprincipled -promoters representing more -clever and unprincipled bond-sellers in -Eastern counting-houses sought to incite -speculation and lead the natural idealist -by the glamour of town-building, and -county-forming booms, railway and irrigation -booms, and countless other -projects.</p> - -<p>They played with his virtuous foibles -and fired his imagination. He gave himself, -his time, his men, his horses, his -implements for construction; his lands -for right of way. He hewed his black -walnuts and elms into sleepers, and -sawed his bulky oaks for bridges. He -called special elections and voted aid in -bonds. He gave perpetual exemption -from taxes. Rugged enthusiast that he -was he gave whatever he had to give,—but -first he gave faith and altruistic -looking-out for the interests of the other -man. Great popular works still abiding—cathedrals -in Europe are perhaps the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -most noted—were put up by like kindling -of the human spirit.</p> - -<p>His road was made ready for sleepers, -and funds for purchasing iron he formally -handed the promoters,—since -which day purslane and smartweed and -golden sunflowers have cloaked the serpentine -grades which his own hands had -advanced at the rate of more than a -mile between each dawn and sunset.</p> - -<p>One direct relation and force of these -inflated plans to the Kansan have been -that they often swerved and controlled -the values of his land, and the prices of -those commodities from which a soil-worker -supports a family hungry, growing, -and in need of his commonwealth’s -great schools. And the man himself, -poor futurist and striver after the idea, -with a soul soaring heavenward and -hands stained and torn with weed-pulling -and corn-husking!—his ready faith, -his tendency to seek a hero, his brushing -aside of conservative intuition, his meliorism, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -his optimism, his receptivity to -ideas, his dear humanness—in other -words, his charm, his grace, his individuality, -his Americanism—wrought him -harm.</p> - -<p>Our corporate man, loving, aspiring, -working, waiting, started out with a -nervous excitability already given. He -was a man with a bee in his bonnet. He -was seeking ideal conditions. Originally -he was a reactionist against feudal bondage, -the old bondage of human to human -and of human to land. Later his soul -took fire at the new bondage of human -to wage and job. He would have every -man and woman about him as free in -person as he was in idea.</p> - -<p>What wonder then that he or his descendent -spirit in the midst of agricultural -distress enacted a mortgage equity -or stay law, and determined that that -law should apply to mortgages in existence -at the passage of the act! He it is -of the all-embracing Populism, the out-reaching -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -Prohibitionism, the husband-man-defensive -Grangerism. Shall we -not humanly expect him, and those suffering -the contagion of his noble singleness, -to clutch at plans for a social millennium? -“Heaven is as easily reached -from Kansas,” wrote an immigrant of -1855, “as from any other point.”</p> - -<p>He values openly what the world in -its heart knows is best, and like all -idealists foreruns his time. The legend -is always about him of how the men and -women of the early fifties hitched their -wagon to a star—and the stars in his -infinity above are divinely luminous and -clear. His meliorism—which would lead -his fellows and then the whole world -aright—is nothing if not magnificent.</p> - -<p>But although he grubs up the wild rose -and morning-glory, ploughing his mellow -soil deep for settings of peach and -grape, and supplants the beauty of the -purple iris and prairie verbena with the -practicalities of corn and wheat, he has -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -yet to learn the moral effect of time and -aggregation—that a moon’s cycle is not -a millennium, a June wind fragrant with -the honey of his white clover not all -of his fair climate, and that a political -colossus cannot stand when it has -no more substantial feet than the yellow -clay which washes and swirls in the -river that waters his great State. In -reality his excess of faith hinders the -way to conditions his idealism has ever -been seeking.</p> - -<p>The Kansan is, after all, but a phase—a -magnificent present-day example -and striving—of the mighty democratic -spirit which has been groping forward -through centuries towards its ideal, the -human race’s ideal of ideals. In his setting -forth of the genius of his people for -democracy and the tendency of his blood -for experiment and reform—according -to that advice to the Thessalonians of -an avaunt courier of democracy, to prove -all things and hold fast to that which is -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -good—he is led at times upon miry, -quaggy places and by the very largeness -of his sympathies enticed upon quicksands -which the social plummet of our -day has not yet sounded. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>THE UNIVERSITY OF -HESPERUS</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And not by eastern windows only,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When daylight comes, comes in the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But westward, look, the land is bright.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Arthur Hugh Clough</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>No university has anywhere ever become a great -influence, or anything but a school for children, -which was not wholly or almost wholly in the hands -of the faculty or teaching body. <i>The faculty is the -teaching body.</i> If you have the right sort of faculty, -you have a university though you have only a tent -to lecture in. If, on the other hand, you try to make -a university out of a board of sagacious business men -acting as trustees, and treat the professors simply as -“hired men,” bound to give the college so many -hours a week, you may have a good school for -youths, but you will get no enlightening influence -or force out of it for the community at large.</p> - -<p class="author">A writer in <i>The Nation</i>, 1889</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span></p> - -<h2 id="THE_UNIVERSITY_OF_HESPERUS">THE UNIVERSITY OF -HESPERUS</h2> - -<p>During a great national struggle for -human rights, Laurel Town was touched -by the high seriousness which rises from -sincerity to the idea of human liberty -and the laying down of lives in defence -of that idea. Its baptism and its early -years were thus purely of the spirit.</p> - -<p>A miniature burg, it snuggles upon -broad, fat lands, semicircling the height -that rises to the west. From the hill-top -the tiny city is half-buried in green -leaves. Looking beyond and to the middle -distance of the landscape, you find -rich bottoms of orchard and of corn, and -the Tiber-yellow waters of a broad river -running through their plenty.</p> - -<p>First immigrants to this country—those -who came in back in the fifties—discovered -the hill’s likeness to the great -Acropolis of Athens, and determined -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -that upon it, as upon the heights of the -ancient city of the golden grasshopper, -the State’s most sacred temple should be -built. Thus were inspired library and -museum, laboratories and lecture-rooms, -of the University of Hesperus, whose -roofs are gleaming in the vivid air to-day -just as in some ancient gem a diamond -lying upon clustering gold sends -shafts of light through foliations of red -metal.</p> - -<p>The brow of this hill beetles toward -the south, but instead of the blue waters -of the Saronic Gulf which Sophocles in -jocund youth saw dancing far at sea, -Hesperus students sight hills rolling to -the horizon, and thickets of elms and -poplars fringing Indian Creek, and instead -of the Pentelic mountains in the -northeast they catch the shimmering -light of the green ledges and limestone -crests of the northern edge of the valley -the river has chiselled.</p> - -<p>But how, you ask—thinking of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -fervor of the immigrants of 1854 and -’55—how did this university come into -being? In stirring and tentative times. -The institution was first organized by -Presbyterians, who later accepted a fate -clearly foreordained, and sold to the -Episcopalians. This branch of the -church universal christened the educational -infant Lawrence University, after -a Boston merchant, who sent ten thousand -dollars conditioned as a gift on -a like subscription. The institution to -this time was “on paper,” as these -founders said of early towns—that is, -a plan, a scheme, a possibility. It finally -became the kernel of the University of -Hesperus when the State accepted from -Congress a grant of seventy-two square -miles of land.</p> - -<p>“There shall be two branches of the -University,” the charter reads, “a male -and a female branch.” In clearer English, -the institution was to be open to -men and women. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span></p> - -<p>Seeds of the convictions which admitted -women to instruction had long -been germinating, even before the independence -of women was practically denied -by the great Reformation. The -idea was in the mind of our race when -we were north-of-Europe barbarians. -It found sporadic expression all through -our literature. It is back of Chaucer in -annals of the people and later in such -chroniclers as Holinshed. Bishop Burnet, -historian of his “Own Time,” -and also Fuller, he of the human -“Worthies,” determined that “the -sharpness of the wit and the suddenness -of the conceits of women needed -she-schools.” Later Mary Woolstonecraft -wrote: “But I still insist that not -only the virtue but the knowledge of the -two sexes should be the same in nature, -if not in degree, and that women, considered -not only as moral but rational -creatures, ought to endeavor to acquire -human virtues by the same means as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -men, instead of being educated like a -fanciful kind of half-being.” And that -moral and prudent sampler, Hannah -More, declared: “I call education not -that which smothers a woman with accomplishments, -but that which tends to -confirm a firm and regular system of -character.”</p> - -<p>A score of the names of these fore-workers -for human liberty are known to -us. But the names that are not known!—the -pathos of it! that we cannot, looking -below from our rung in the ladder, -tell the countless who have striven, and -fallen striving, that we are here because -they were there, and that to them, often -unrecognized and unthanked, our opportunities -are due. They foreran their -times, and their struggle made ours possible.</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“’Tis not what man Does which exalts him, but what man Would do!”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But the immediate thought or impulse -to make our Western State institutions -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> -co-educational, to give to the daughters -the collegiate leisure and learning of -the sons—to whom or to what shall we -trace this idea! They used to explain -it in Hesperus by telling you, “The people -about us are for the most part New -Englanders in blood, you know, perhaps -not one, certainly not more than two -generations removed to more genial -lands, and still retaining the rigor and -tenacity and devotion to principle of -that stock.” But one naturally answered -this by saying, “In New England -they did not in the fifties and sixties give -their daughters the educational opportunities -they gave their sons. In those -decades there were attempts at women’s -colleges outside New England, but none -in the neighborhood of Williams, Dartmouth, -Amherst, Harvard, or Yale.”</p> - -<p>The better reason is the historic—noted -in every movement of our Aryan -race. In this is found what New England -civilization has done, not in Hesperus -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -alone, but in Wisconsin, in California, -in Minnesota, and wherever else -it has united with other forces, and lost -the self-consciousness and self-complacency -which in our generation are distinguishing -and abiding traits upon its -own granitic soil. Prejudices which eat -energy and dwarf activity colonists have -commonly left behind, whether they have -entered the swift black ship of the sea -or the canvas-covered wagon of the -prairie. This was said of those who -sailed westward and built up ancient -Syracuse some twenty-six centuries -agone, and it is true also of the colonists -of these later days.</p> - -<p>The drawing up of the charter of the -University of Hesperus shows how -humanly, simply, and freely State building -may be done. Judge Chadwick, of -Laurel Town, gives the candid narrative:</p> - -<p>“In the spring of 1864 the Misses -Chapin and Miss Elizabeth Watson, who -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -had established a school here, and who -were anxious that the University should -be organized, besought Governor Robinson -to see that it was done. He, or they -(or perhaps but one of them), came to -me and insisted that I should go to the -capital and secure the passage of an act -organizing the University. The session -of the Legislature was near its close. I -went to the capital. In the State library -I hunted up the various charters of similar -institutions, and taking the Michigan -University charter for my guide, drafted -the act to organize the University of -the State.... Judge Emery was the -member of the House.... I do not remember -who was the Senator.... I -gave the draft to Judge Emery, who introduced -it into the house, and by suspension -of the rules got it through. It -went through the Senate in the same -way, and was approved by the governor—Carney.”</p> - -<p>But the seed of fire from which this -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -University sprang in the days when men -were fighting for unity, for an idea—this -you cannot understand without a -word about the brilliant essence that -enwraps you in that land—Hesperus -air and light. This ether no man can -describe. It is as clear as a diamond -of finest quality, and each infinitesimal -particle has a thousand radiant facets. -You think to take it in your hand. It is -as intangible as a perfume, as illusive -as the hopes of man’s ultimate perfection. -The colors of liquid rose are -hidden in it and the glow of gold, and it -gives flame to the dullest matter. It -glances upon a gray tree-trunk, and the -trunk glitters in purple and silver-white. -It is so limpid and dry that a hill or a -bush, or a grazing sheep far away, -stands out in clear relief. It vitalizes. -It whispers of the infinite life of life. -Like the sea, it presses upon you a consciousness -of illimitability and immeasurable -strength. It is “most pellucid -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -air,” like that in which the chorus of -the “Medea” says the Athenians were -“ever delicately marching.”</p> - -<p>It is as like the atmosphere of Italy -as the sturdy peach-blossoms which -redden Hesperus boughs in March are -like the softer almond-flowers. The -same indescribable grace and radiance -are in both essences. But there are the -Hesperus blizzards—vast rivers of icy -air which sweep from upper currents -and ensphere the softness and translucent -loveliness of the earth with such -frosts as are said to fill all heaven -between the stars.</p> - -<p>Under such dynamic skies young men -and women have been gathering now -these forty years—before the September -equinox has fairly quenched the glow of -summer heat. During a long æstivation -a sun burning in an almost cloudless -heaven has beaten upon them day by -day. The glow has purified and expanded -their skin, has loosened their -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -joints, and clothed them in the supple -body of the south. Through the darkness -of the night ten thousand stars have -shone above their slumbers, and wind -voices out of space have phu-phy-phis-pered -through secretive pines and rolled -tz-tz-tz upon the leathery leaves of oaks. -Such days and nights have been over -them since the wild grape tossed its -fragrant blossoms in damp ravines in -the passion of May.</p> - -<p>These students have come from all -kinds of homes, from meagre town -houses, from the plainest and most forlorn -farm-houses, and from other houses -laden and bursting with plenty—and -plenty in Hesperus is always more -plenty than plenty anywhere else. Many -of these young people have been nurtured -delicately, but a large number have -doubtless tasted the bitterness of overwork -and the struggle of life before their -teens.</p> - -<p>Perhaps their parents came to Hesperus -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -newly wedded, or in the early -years of married life with a brood of -little children. If their coming was not -in the stridulous cars of some Pacific or -Santa Fé railway, then it was over the -hard-packed soil in most picturesque of -pioneer fashions—a huge canvas-covered -wagon carrying the family cook-stove, -beds, and apparel, and, under its -creaking sides, kettles for boilers, pails -for fetching water from the nearest run, -and axes to cut wood for evening fires. -Every article the family carried must -answer some requirement or use. The -horses, too, have their appointed tasks, -for, the journey once accomplished, they -will mark off the eighty acres the family -are going to pre-empt, and afterwards -pull the plough through the heavy malarious -sod.</p> - -<p>On the seat of the wagon the wife and -mother, wrapped in extremes of cold in -a patchwork quilt, at times nursed the -baby, and in any case drove with a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -workmanlike hand. John Goodman was -sometimes back with the collie, snapping -his blacksnake at the cattle and urging -them on. But oftenest father and -mother were up in the seat, and boy and -girl trooping behind in barefooted and -bareheaded innocence, enjoying happy -equality and that intimate contact with -the cows which milky udders invite.</p> - -<p>Now this, or some way like this, was -the introduction of a quota of Hesperus -men and women to their fat earth and -electric atmosphere. It is therefore not -to be wondered at that these young people -come to their University with little -of the glamour nourished by delicate environment -and the graces of life. Their -earliest years have been spent upon the -bed-rock of nature wrestling with the -hardest facts and barest realities. They -have suffered the deprivations and the -unutterable trials of patience and faith -which the world over are the lot of pioneers; -and they have had the returns -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -of their courage. Every self-respecting -man and boy has been, perhaps still is, -expected to do the work of two men. -Every woman and girl to whom the god -of circumstance had not been kind must -be ready to perform, alike and equally -well, the duties of man or woman—whichever -the hour dictated. “Hesperus,” -says an unblushing old adage -of the fifties—“Hesperus is heaven to -men and dogs and hell to women and -horses.”</p> - -<p>But from whatever part of the State -the students come to their University, -he and she commonly come—they are -not sent. The distinction is trite, but -there is in it a vast difference. In many -cases they have made the choice and -way for themselves. They have earned -money to pay their living while at -school, and they expect, during the three, -four, or five years they are in their intellectual -Canaan, to spend vacations in -work—in harvesting great wheat-fields -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -of Philistia, or in some other honest -bread-winning. They are so close to -nature, and so radiantly strong in individuality, -that no one of them, so far as -rumor goes, has ever resorted to the -commonest method of the Eastern impecunious -collegian for filling his cob-webbed -purse with gold. The nearest -approach I know to such zeal was the instance -of the student who slept (brave -fellow) scot-free in an undertaker’s -establishment. He answered that functionary’s -night-bell. Then he earned -half-dollars in rubbing up a coffin or -washing the hearse; adding to these -duties the care of a church, milking of -cows, tending of furnaces, digging of -flower-beds, beating of carpets, and any -other job by which a strong and independent -hand could win honest money -for books and clothing and food. It was -as true for him now as when Dekker, -fellow-player with Shakespeare and “a -high-flier of wit even against Ben Jonson -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> -himself”—to use Anthony à Wood’s -phrase—when Dekker sang—</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Then he that patiently want’s burden bears,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">No burden bears, but is a king, a king.<br /></span> -<span class="i5">O sweet content, O sweet content!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Work apace, apace, apace,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Honest labor bears a lovely face,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Then hey nonny, nonny; hey nonny, nonny.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>To one young man, whose course was -preparing him for studies of Knox’s -theology upon Knox’s own heath, a harvest -of forty acres of wheat brought a -competence, as this arithmetic will show: -40 × 50 × $0.50 = $1000. He planted, -he said, in the early days of September, -before leaving for college, and cut the -grain after commencement in June. -The blue-green blades barely peeped -through the glebe during winter. When -springtime came, and the hot sun shone -upon the steaming earth, and the spirit -of growth crept into the roots, an invalid -father—the young planter being still in -academic cassock—kept the fences up -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> -and vagrant cows from mowing the crop -under their sweet breath. Other men -often told of like ways of earning not -only college bread but also college -skittles.</p> - -<p>Women students had commonly not -so good a chance at wresting German -lyrics or Plato’s idealism from a wheat-furrow. -Report of such advantages at -least never reached my ear. But this -may be due to the fact that women are -reticent about the means of their success, -while men delight to dwell upon -their former narrow circumstances and -triumphant exit from such conditions.</p> - -<p>Some Hesperus girl may have made -money in hay, and indeed have made -the hay as charmingly as Madame de -Sévigné reports herself to have done—and -certainly, in Hesperus conditions, -without the episode of the recalcitrant -footman which Mistress de Sévigné relates. -Now and then a young woman did -say that she was living during her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span> -studies on funds she herself had earned. -One doughty maiden, “a vary parfit, -gentil knight,” her face ruddy with -healthy blood, her muscles firm and -active—such a girl said one day, in extenuation -of her lack of Greek composition, -that “her duties had not permitted -her to prepare it.”</p> - -<p>“But that is your duty, to prepare it,” -I answered. “Are you one of those students -who never allow studies to interfere -with ‘business’?”</p> - -<p>“No,” she said, quickly; “but let me -tell you how it happened. The boarding-house -where I stay is kept by a friend of -my mother. She offers me board if I -will help her. So I get up at five in the -morning and cook breakfast, and after I -have cleaned up I come up here. In the -afternoon I sweep and dust, and it takes -me till nearly dark. The evening is the -only time I have for preparing four -studies.”</p> - -<p>What became of this girl, you ask? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> -She married a professor in an Eastern -college.</p> - -<p>It is well to reiterate, however, in -order to convey no false impression of -Hesperus sturdiness and self-reliance, -that many, probably a majority, of the -students were supported by their natural -protectors. But it is clear that there -is more self-maintenance—self-reliance -in money matters—at the Hesperus University -than in any college generally -known in the East, and that the methods -of obtaining self-succor are at times -novel and resultant from an agricultural -environment. In evidence that there are -students more fortunate—one should -rather say more moneyed, for the blessings -of money are not always apparent -to the inner eye—are the secret societies -which flourish among both men and -women. The club or society houses, for -the furnishing of which carte blanche -has been given the individual humanely -known as interior decorator, see not infrequently -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -courtesies from one Greek -letter society to another, then and there -kindly wives of the professors matronizing.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">2</a> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span></p> - -<p>An early introduction into the battle of -life breeds in us humans practicality and -utilitarianism. Most unfortunately it -disillusions. It takes from the imaginativeness -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -which charms and transfigures -the early years of life. In the University -of Hesperus one found the immediate -fruit of this experience in the desire -of the student, expressed before he -was thoroughly within the college gates, -of obtaining that which would be of immediate -practical advantage to himself. -He demanded what the Germans call -brodstudien, and sometimes very little -beyond the knowledge which he could -convert into Minnesota wheat or some -other iota of the material prosperity -which surges from east to west and -waxes on every side of our land. How -strenuously one had to fight this great -impulse! and against what overwhelming -odds! It was a reacting of King -Canute’s forbiddance to the sea, and, -like that famous defeat, it had its -humors.</p> - -<p>You could see so plainly that this -demon of practicality had been implanted -by want, and privation, and a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -knowledge drunk with the mother’s milk, -that the struggle of life on that untested -soil was a struggle to live; you could see -this so plainly that you often felt constrained -to yield to its cry and urgency.</p> - -<p>And the weapons at hand to fight it -were so few! Materialism on every -hand. And it was plain, also, that here -was but an eddy in the wave—that the -impulse toward brodstudien was undoubtedly -but a groping forward in -the great movement of the half-century -that has endowed realschulen from St. -Petersburg to San Francisco, and is perhaps -but the beginning of the industrial -conquest of the world—in its first endeavors -necessarily crippled, over-zealous -and impotent of best works.</p> - -<p>Yet in the face of every concession -there came anew to your conscience the -conviction, haunting unceasingly, of the -need of the idea in academic life, of the -need of the love of study for its own -sake, of a broader education of the sympathies, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -of greater activity in the intangible -world of thought and feeling—desires -of souls “hydroptic with a -sacred thirst.” To these alone did it -behoove us to concede, for through the -spirit alone could the “high man” sustainedly -lift up his heart—</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Still before living he’d learn how to live—<br /></span> -<span class="i9">No end to learning.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Earn the means first—God surely will contrive<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Use for our earning.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i1">Others mistrust and say, ‘But time escapes,—<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Live now or never!’<br /></span> -<span class="i1">He said, ’What’s Time? leave Now for dogs and apes,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Man has Forever.’”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The ratio of Hesperus students who -chose the old form of scholastic training, -called through long centuries the -Humanities, was some little time ago not -more than one-fifth of those in the department -of literature and arts. Since -the number was so small—all departments -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -would then hardly count five hundred -students—the growth was favored -of that most delightful feature of -small-college life, friendship between -instructor and undergraduate. Such -offices often grew to significant proportions -during a student’s four collegiate -years. All genialities aided them; and -nothing sinister hindered.</p> - -<p>The young folks’ hearts were as warm -as may be found upon any generous soil, -and they held a sentiment of personal -loyalty which one needed never to question. -They went to their University, -after such longing and eagerness, so -thoroughly convinced that there was to -be found the open sesame to whatever -in their lives had been most unattainable, -that their first attitude was not the -critical, negative, which one notices in -some universities deemed more fortunate, -but the positive and receptive. If -they did not find that which to their -minds seemed best, had they not the inheritance -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -of hope?—a devise which Hesperus -earth and air entail upon all their -children, and upon which all are most -liberally nurtured.</p> - -<p>Then the Hesperus youth had a defect, -if one may so put it, that aided him -materially to a friendly attitude with -his instructors. He was, with rare exceptions, -as devoid of reverence for conventional -distinctions as a meadow-lark -nesting in last year’s tumble-weed and -thinking only of soaring and singing. -In this, perhaps, is the main-spring of -the reason why nearly every student, -either through some inborn affinity or by -election of studies, drifted into genial -relations with some member of the -faculty.</p> - -<p>The pleasantest part of my day’s work -used to be in the retirement of the -Greek study and from eight to nine in -the morning. Never a student of mine -who did not come at that hour for some -occasion or need. One man snatched -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -the opportunity to read at sight a good -part of the Odyssey. Another took up -and discussed certain dialogues of Plato. -Another who aimed at theological learning -studied the Greek Testament and -the “Teaching of the Twelve Apostles.” -Others came in to block out courses -of work. Still others were preparing -papers and gathering arguments, authorities, -and data for debating societies -and clubs.</p> - -<p>In that hour, too, a sympathetic ear -would hear many a personal history told -with entire frankness and naïveté. One -poor fellow had that defect of will which -is mated at times with the humorous -warmth which the Germans call gemüth, -and the added pain of consciousness -of his own weakness. Another clear-headed, -muscular-handed, and ready -youth measured his chances of getting -wood to saw,—“just the exercise he -needed, out of doors,”—horses to groom, -and the city lamps to light, to earn the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -simple fare which he himself cooked. -Many a pathetic story found tongue in -that morning air, and times were when -fate dropped no cap of recognition and -granted no final victory. In hearing the -details of hope deferred, of narrow -estate and expansive ambition, you -longed for the fabled Crœsus touch -which turned want to plenty, or, more -rationally, you projected a social order -where the young and inapt should not -suffer for the sins of others, but be -within the sheltering arms of some sympathetic -power.</p> - -<p>There was the mildness of the chinook -to this social blizzard, however, for -groups moved even in the dewy hour of -half-past eight toward the open door of -the Greek lecture-room, laughing at the -last college joke or secret society escapade, -and forecasting who would be the -next penitent before the council. Also -certain youths and maids, between whom -lay the engagement announced by a ring -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span> -on the heart-finger—these one might see -hanging over and fingering—</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Vor Liebe und Liebesweh”—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>volumes lying upon my table, and in -their eagerness and absorption of the -world in two, dog-earing the golden -edges of ever-living Theocritus. And -why not? Such entanglements in the -web of love oftenest differed in no way -from the innocence and simplicity of the -pristine Daphnes and Coras. They were -living again, the Sicilian shepherd and -shepherdess, and wandering in the eternally -virid fields of youth. The skies -and trees and waters were merely not -of Trinacria. But Hesperus heavens -omitted no degree of ardor.</p> - -<p>And had you seen her, you would -never have blamed the youth for loving -the college maid. She has the charm -abloom in the girlhood of every land, -and most of all in this of ours. Physically -she differs little from her sister -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -in Eastern States. Her form is as willowy. -She has, except in the case of -foreign-born parents, the same elongated -head and bright-glancing eye. -Her skin sometimes lacks in fairness -owing to the desiccating winds of the -interior; but there is the same fineness -of texture.</p> - -<p>Power of minute observation and a -vivacious self-reliance are characteristics -of the girl of the University of -Hesperus—and, indeed, of the girl -throughout the West. She sees everything -within her horizon. Nothing -escapes her eye or disturbs her animated -self-poise. She has not the Buddhistic -self-contemplation the New England -girl is apt to cultivate; nor is she given -to talking about her sensations of body -and moods of mind. I never heard her -say she wanted to fall in love in order -to study her sensations—as a Smith College -alumna studying at Barnard once -declared. She rarely pursues fads. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> -Neither is she a fatalist. And she never -thinks of doubting her capacity of correct -conclusions upon data which she -gathers with her own experience of eye -and ear. From early years she has been -a reasoner by the inductive method, and -a believer in the equality and unsimilarity -of men and women. Undeniably -her mental tone is a result of the greater -friction with the world which the girl of -the West experiences in her fuller freedom. -Conventionalism does not commonly -overpower the individual—social -lines are not so closely defined—in those -States where people count by decades -instead of by centuries.</p> - -<p>And what is said of this University -girl’s observing faculties is in nowise -untrue of her brother’s. Nature, the -most Socratic of all instructors and the -pedagogue of least apparent method, -seems actually to have taught him more -than his sister, as, in fact, the physical -universe is apt to teach its laws more -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -clearly to the man than to the woman, -even if she hath a clearer vision of the -moral order. Perhaps the man’s duties -knit him more closely to physical things.</p> - -<p>With clear, far-seeing eyes—for -plenty of oxygen has saved them from -near-sightedness—a Hesperus boy will -distinguish the species of hawk flying -yonder in the sky, forming his judgment -by the length of wing and color-bars -across the tail. I have heard him comment -on the tarsi of falcons which -whirled over the roadway as he was -driving, and from their appearance determine -genus and species. He knows -the note and flight of every bird. He -will tell you what months the scarlet -tanager whistles in the woods, why -leaves curl into cups during droughts, -and a thousand delicate facts which one -who has never had the liberty of the -bird and squirrel in nowise dreams of.</p> - -<p>And why should he not? All beasts -of the prairie and insects of the air are -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -known to him as intimately as were -the rising and setting stars to the old -seafaring, star-led Greeks. During his -summer the whip-poor-will has whistled -in the shadow of the distant timber, and -the hoot-owl has ghosted his sleep. He -has wakened to the carol of the brown -thrush and the yearning call of the -mourning dove, as the dawn reached -rosy fingers up the eastern sky.</p> - -<p>He has risen to look upon endless -rows of corn earing its milky kernels, -and upon fields golden with nodding -wheat-heads. And from the impenetrable -centre of the tillage, when the -brown stubble has stood like needles to -his bare feet, he has heard the whiz of -the cicada quivering in the heated air. -The steam-thresher has then come panting -and rumbling over the highway, and -in the affairs of men the boy has made -his first essay. He cuts the wires that -bind the sheaves, or feeds the hopper, or -catches the wheat, or forks away the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -yellow straw, or ties the golden kernels -in sacks, or brings water to the choked -and dusty men. He runs here and there -for all industries.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it is because of his association -with such fundamentals of life that -this boy has great grasp upon the physical -world. In his very appearance one -sees a life untaught in the schools of -men. In looking at him there is nothing -of which you are so often reminded as -of a young cottonwood-tree. The tree -and the boy somehow seem to have a -kinship in structure, and to have been -built by the same feeling upward of -matter. And this perhaps he is—a -broad-limbed, white-skinned, animalized, -great-souled poplar, which in ages long -past dreamed of red blood and a beating -heart and power of moving over that -fair earth—after the way that Heine’s -fir-tree dreamed of the palm—and finally -through this yearning became the honest -boysoul and body which leaps from pure -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -luxuriance of vigor, and runs and rides -and breathes the vital air of Hesperus -to-day.</p> - -<p>But even with the strong-limbed physique -which open-air life upbuilds, the -Hesperus students have their full quota -of nervousness. Elements in their lives -induce it. First there is the almost infinite -possibility of accomplishment for -the ambitious and energetic—so little is -done, so much needs to be. Again, temperature -changes of their climate are -most sudden and extreme. A third incentive -to nervous excitation is the stimulant -of their wonderful atmosphere, -which is so exhilarating that dwellers -upon the Hesperus plateau suffer somnolence -under the air-pressure and equilibrium -of the seaboard.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately the students have until -lately had nothing that could be called -a gymnasium, in which they might counterpoise -nerve-work with muscular -action. At one time they endeavored to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -equip a modest building. In the Legislature, -however, the average representative, -the man who voted supplies, looked -back upon his own boyhood, and, recalling -that he never suffered indigestion -while following the plough down the -brown furrow, set his head against -granting one dollar of the State’s supplies -for the deed fool athletics; in fact, -he lapsed for the moment into the mental -condition of, say, a Tory of Tom Jones’s -time or a hater of the oppressed races -of to-day.</p> - -<p>This one instance will possibly give a -shadow of impression of the power base -politics—reversions to conditions our -race is evolving from—have had in -Hesperus University life. The power -was obtained in the beginning chiefly -because of the University’s sources of -financial support—appropriations by -biennial Legislatures in which every -item, the salary of each individual professor, -was scanned, and talked over, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> -cut down to the lowest bread-and-water -figure, first by the committee in charge -of the budget and afterwards by the -Legislature in full session. One instance -alone illustrates. In the early -spring of 1897, when the University estimate -was before the Legislature for discussion -and the dominating Populists -were endeavoring to reduce its figure, a -legislator sturdily insisted: “They’re -too stingy down there at the University. -They’re getting good salaries, and could -spare a sum to some one who would -undertake to put the appropriations -through.” One thousand dollars was -said to be “about the size of the job.” -A cut of twenty per cent., generally -speaking, upon already meagre salaries -resulted to a faculty too blear-eyed -politically and unbusiness-like to see its -financial advantage. After two or three -years the stipends were restored to their -former humility, the Legislature possibly -having become ashamed. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span></p> - -<p>And in the make-up of the senatus -academicus, or board of regents, thereby -hangs, or there used to hang, much of -doubt and many a political trick and -quibble. It was a variation of the dream -of the Texas delegate to the nominating -convention—“The offices! That’s what -we’re here for.” For if a Democratic -governor were elected, he appointed -from his party men to whom he was -beholden in small favors. The members -of the board were Democrats, that is, -and were expected to guard the interests -of their party. Or if the voters of -Hesperus chose a Republican executive, -he in turn had his abettors whom he -wanted to dignify with an academic -course for which there were no entrance -examinations beyond faithfulness to -party lines and party whips. It thus -happened that the fitness of the man has -not always been a prime consideration -in his appointment. More often because -he was somebody’s henchman, or somebody’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -friend, the executive delighted to -honor him.</p> - -<p>These political features in the board -of regents materially affected the faculty. -For instance, if there were among -the professors one who illustrated his -lectures or class-room work by examples -of the justice and reasonableness of free -trade, he acted advisedly for his tenure -if he lapsed into silence when the Republicans -were in power. But if, on the -other hand, he advocated protection instead -of free trade, while the Democrats -held State offices—which happened only -by unusual fate—it was prudent for the -professor to hold his tongue.</p> - -<p>Upon every question of the day, and -even in presenting conditions of life in -ancient days, as, for instance, in Greece, -the faculty were restrained, or at least -threats were rendered. The petty politics -of an agricultural democracy acted -upon academic life in precisely the same -way that autocracy and clericalism in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -Germany have affected its university -faculties. In Hesperus professors have -been dismissed without any excuse, -apparent reason, or apology, because -of a change of administration at the -State capital and a hungry party’s -coming into power. In various callings, -or lines of life, the individual may be, -nay, often is, wantonly sacrificed, but -surely one of the saddest results of political -shystering is the cheapening of -the professor’s chair, and rendering that -insecure for the permanence of which active -life and its plums have been yielded.</p> - -<p>Hinging immediately upon the political -machine are the rights of and recognition -of women in university government -and pedagogic work. The fact that -two or three women were the strenuous -initiators of the institution has been forgotten, -and no longer is there faith that</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The woman’s cause is man’s; they rise or sink -Together.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span></p> - -<p>With all its coeducation, Hesperus has -not yet evolved—as have New York, -Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Illinois, -and Wisconsin—to women regents or -trustees. The people have not yet awakened -to the justice of demanding that, -in a State institution open to young -women as well as to young men, women -as well as men shall be in its government -and direction.</p> - -<p>And within the brown walls of the -institution a woman may not carry -her learning to the supreme pedagogic -end. “People ridicule learned women,” -said clear-eyed Goethe, speaking for -his world, the confines of which at -times extend to and overlap our own, -“and dislike even women who are well -informed, probably because it is considered -impolite to put so many ignorant -men to shame.” Such a man—an -ignorant man, one of the party appointees -just now spoken of—when a woman -was dismissed from the Greek chair -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -some years ago, declared, “The place -of women is naturally subordinate; we -shall have no more women professors.” -It was a pitiful aping of dead and gone -academic prejudices. To this day, however, -but one act—that rather an enforced -one—has gainsaid his dictum. A -woman has been appointed to the chair -of French. It remains to be seen -whether her salary is the same as that -of the men doing work of equal grade -and weight with her own.</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“We cross the prairie as of old<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The pilgrims crossed the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">To make the West, as they the East,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The homestead of the free”—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>sang the men and women of the fifties -as their train pulled out of Eastern stations -and their steamboats paddled up -the waters of the Big Muddy. But how -often it happens that what one generation -will die for, the next will hold of -little value, or even in derision! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span></p> - -<p>Not wholly independent of politics, -not without the uses and abuses of politics, -is a great corporation which one -of necessity mentions because it has -played no small part in Hesperus University -life. In those portions of our -country where the units of the Methodist -church are segregate few know the -gigantic secular power it possesses in -the South and in the West. The perfection -of its organization is like that -of the Roman Catholic Church where it -is longest at home, or like the unity of -the Latter Day Saints in their centre, -Utah. The Methodists in Hesperus far -outnumber in membership and money -any other denomination. They are tenacious -of their power, as religious denominations -have ever been, and aggressive -in upbuilding schools of their own -voice and foundation. The question, -“What shall we do to keep on the good -side of the Methodists?” was, therefore, -not infrequently asked in Hesperus University -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span> -politics. The answer was practical: -“Make us Methodists. Bring -Methodism to us to stop the antagonism -of a powerful body.” Such a solving of -the problem—for these reasons—was -not high-minded; it was not moral -courage. But it was thought politic—and -it was done.</p> - -<p>Some of the best elements of our day -have been profoundly at work among -the Methodists. Many of the denomination -have been in the vanguard of the -march to better things. But it is fair -to the course of Hesperus University, -which has sometimes halted, to say that -sagacious vigor and a knowledge of -the best—τὰ Βέλτιστα—were not in every -case the claim to distinction of its -Methodist head. “Aus Nichts,” says -Fichte, “wird nimmer Etwas.” But -mediocrity—or worse—did not always -prevail. Under absolutely pure and -true conditions a man would be chosen -for his fitness to fill the office of Chancellor, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -no matter what his religious bias, -unless, indeed, that bias marred his -scholarship and access to men, and thus -really became an element in his unfitness.</p> - -<p>In a perspective of the University of -Hesperus it is necessary to consider -these various controlling forces as well -as the spiritual light of its students. -And yet to those who have faith in its -growth in righteousness there is an -ever-present fear. The greatness of the -institution will be in inverse proportion -to the reign of politics, materialism, and -denominationalism in its councils, and -the fear is that the people may not think -straight and see clear in regard to this -great fact. Upon spiritual lines alone -can its spirit grow, and if an institution -of the spirit is not great in the spirit, -it is great in nothing.</p> - -<p>Its vigor and vitality are of truth in -its young men and women. One boy or -one girl may differ from another in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -glory, but each comes trailing clouds of -light, and of their loyalty and stout-heartedness -and courage for taking life -in hand too many pæans cannot be -chanted, or too many triumphant ἰώ -raised. They have been the reason for -the existence of the institution now more -than a generation. Their spiritual content -is its strength, and is to be more -clearly its strength when guidance of its -affairs shall have come to their hands.</p> - -<p>Their spiritual content, we say—it -should reflect that life of theirs when -heaven seems dropping from above to -their earth underfoot—in addition to the -labors and loves of men and women, -a procession of joys from the February -morning the cardinal first whistles -“what cheer.”</p> - -<p>While dog-tooth violets swing their -bells in winds of early March bluebirds -are singing. The red-bud blossoms, and -robins carol from its branches. Then -the mandrake, long honored in enchantment, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -opens its sour-sweet petals of wax. -Crimson-capped woodpeckers test tree-trunks -and chisel their round house with -skilful carpentry. The meadow-lark -whistles in mating joy. Purple violets -carpet the open woods. Trees chlorophyl -their leaves in the warm sun. The -wild crab bursts in sea-shell pink, and -sober orchards shake out ambrosial perfume. -Soft, slumberous airs puff clouds -across the sky, and daylight lingers long -upon the western horizon. Summer is -come in.</p> - -<p>The cuckoo cries. The hermit thrush -pipes from his dusky covert. Doves, -whose aching cadences melt the human -heart, house under leaves of grapevine -and hatch twin eggs. Vast fields of -clover bloom in red and white, and butterflies -and bees intoxicate with honey -swarm and flit in all-day ravaging. -Vapors of earth rise in soft whirls and -stand to sweeten reddening wheat and -lancet leaves of growing corn. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span></p> - -<p>Arcadia could hold nothing fairer, and -the god Pan himself, less satyr and more -soul than of old, may be waiting to meet -you where some fallen cottonwood -bridges a ravine and the red squirrel -hunts his buried shagbarks.</p> - -<p>There “life is sweet, brother. There’s -day and night, brother, both sweet -things; sun and moon and stars, -brother, all sweet things. There’s likewise -a wind on the heath.”</p> - -<p>They have most brilliant suns. They -breathe sparkling, lambent ether. They -look daily upon elm and osage orange, -oaks and locusts in summer so weighted -with leaves that no light plays within -the recess of branches. All the night -winds sough through these dusky trees, -while slender voices, countless as the -little peoples of the earth, murmur in -antiphonal chorus.</p> - -<p>And above are the patient stars and -Milky Way dropping vast fleeces of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> -light upon our earth awhirl in the dear -God’s Arms.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The West is large. That which would -be true of a university in one part of -its broad expanse might not be true of -another institution of like foundation -some distance away. And what might -be said of a college or university independent -of politics, would in nowise be -averable of one pretty well controlled -by that perplexing monitor.</p> - -<p>Again, a fact which might be asserted -of a college built up by some religious -denomination might be radically false if -claimed for one supported by the taxpayers -of a great commonwealth, and -hedged by sentiment and statute from -the predominance of any ecclesiasticism.</p> - -<p>You speak of the general characteristics -of the University of Michigan, but -these characteristics are not true of the -little college down in Missouri, or Kentucky, -or Ohio. Neither would the facts -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -of life in some institutions in Chicago be -at one with those of a thriving school -where conditions are markedly kleinstädtisch.</p> - -<p>In speaking of the West we must realize -its vast territory and the varying -characteristics of its people. Of what is -here set down I am positive of its entire -truth only so far as one institution is -concerned, namely, the titulary—that is, -the University of Hesperus—which recalleth -the city bespoken in the Gospel -according to Matthew—that it is set -upon a hill and cannot be hid. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>TWO NEIGHBORS OF -ST. LOUIS</h2> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span></p> - -<p>There was never in any age more money stirring, -nor never more stir to get money. -<span class="author">The Great Frost of January, 1608”</span></p> - -<p>Women have seldom sufficient serious employment -to silence their feelings: a round of little -cares, or vain pursuits, frittering away all -strength of mind and organs, they become -naturally only objects of sense. -<span class="author smcap">Mary Wollstonecraft</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You have too much respect upon the world:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They lose it that do buy it with much care.<br /></span> -<span class="author smcap">Shakespeare<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="TWO_NEIGHBORS_OF_ST_LOUIS">TWO NEIGHBORS OF -ST. LOUIS</h2> - -<p>The Big Muddy built the fertile regions -near its course. Dropping in -warm low tides mellow soil gathered -from upper lands, it pushed the flood of -the sea farther and farther to the south. -Non palma sine pulvere has been the -song of its waters—no green will grow -here without my mould.</p> - -<p>It was at its wonder-work those millions -of suns ago when the tiny three-toed -horse browsed among the grasses -of what is now Kansas. Its great years -can be measured only by the dial of God. -All the monstrosities of the eld of its -birth it has survived, and like a knowing, -sentient thing—a thinking, feeling -thing—it has been expanding and contracting, -doubling up and straightening -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -out its tawny body, each one of its numberless -centuries pushing its uncounted -mouths farther toward the submerged -mountains of the Antilles.</p> - -<p>In its thaumaturgy it formed vast -prairies and rolling lands. Upon its -gently-packed earth forests shot up. -Subterranean streams jetted limpid -springs, which joined and grew to rivers -open to the light of day. Above the -heavens were broad and the horizon far -away—as far as you outlook at sea when -sky and earth melt to a gray, and you -stand wondering where the bar of heaven -begins and where the restless waters -below.</p> - -<p>Indians, autochthons, or, perchance, -wanderers from Iberia, or Babylon, were -here. Then white men came to the flat -brown lands, and that they brought wives -showed they meant to stay and build a -commonwealth. The two raised hearthstones -for their family, and barns for -herds and flocks. They marked off fields -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -and knotted them with fruit trees, and -blanketed them with growing wheat, and -embossed them in days of ripeness with -haystacks such as the race of giants long -since foregone might have built. In -their rich cornfields they set up shocks -which leaned wearily with their weight -of golden kernels, or stood torn and -troubled by cattle nosing for the sugary -pulp. Such works their heaven saw and -to-day sees, their air above entirely -bright, beading and sparkling in its inverted -cup through every moment of -sunshine.</p> - -<p>Over this land and its constant people -icy northers, victorious in elemental conflicts -far above the Rockies, rush swirling -and sweeping. They snap tense, -sapless branches and roll dried leaves -and other ghosts of dead summer before -their force. They pile their snows in the -angles of the rail fence and upon the -southern banks of ravines, and whistle -for warmth through the key-holes and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -under the shrunken doors of farm-houses.</p> - -<p>But winds and snows disappear, and -again life leaps into pasture-land. A -yellow light glowing between branches -foreruns the green on brown stalk and -tree. The meadow-lark lifts his buoyant -note in the air, and the farmer clears -his field and manures his furrow with -sleepy bonfires and the ashes of dead -stalks. Earth springs to vital show in -slender grasses and rose-red verbena, -and the pale canary of the bastard -indigo.</p> - -<p>In this great folkland of the Big -Muddy, which is beyond praise in the -ordinary phrase of men, there live alongside -many other types, a peculiar man -and woman. They are—to repeat, for -clearness’ sake—only two of many types -there indwelling, for it is true of these -parts as was said of England in 1755: -“You see more people in the roads than -in all Europe, and more uneasy countenances -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -than are to be found in the -world besides.”</p> - -<p>The man is seen in all our longitudes; -the woman is rarely in any other milieu. -She is a product of her city and town. -The women of the country have ever -before them queryings of the facts of -life, the great lessons and slow processes -of nature, the depth and feeling of -country dwelling. But this city-woman -suffers from shallowness and warp -through her unknowledge of nature and -the unsympathy with fellow humans -that protection in bourgeois comfort -engenders. She is inexperienced in the -instructive adventure of the rich and -the instructive suffering of the poor. -The basis of her life is conventional.</p> - -<p>The dollar to her eyes is apt to measure -every value. Let us not forget that -in the history of the world this is no new -estimate. It was the ancient Sabine -poet who advised “make money—honestly -if we can, if not, dishonestly—only, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -make money.” “This is the money-got -mechanic age,” cried Ben Jonson in -Elizabeth’s day. And the poet of the -“Elegy written in a Country Church-Yard” -more than one hundred and fifty -years ago wrote to his friend Wharton: -“It is a foolish Thing that one can’t -only not live as one pleases, but where -and with whom one pleases, without -Money.... Money is Liberty, and I -fear money is Friendship too and -Society, and almost every external -Blessing.”</p> - -<p>Lacking simplicity this woman is submerged -in artificiality and false conceptions -of life values. Her hair, often -blondined and curled in fluffy ringlets, -is filleted with gold-mounted combs -above a countenance fine-featured and -a trifle hardened. Her well-formed -hands, even in daily comings and goings, -are flashing with rings. She loves to -turn the precious stones and watch them -divide the light. These jewels are her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -first expression of accumulating wealth—these -and the pelts of animals difficult -to capture, and therefore costly. After -obtaining these insignia of opulence she -begins to long for a third—the gentle, -inept riot and solitary Phorcides’s -eye for seeing life which she calls “society.”</p> - -<p>The voice is an unconscious index of -one’s spiritual tone; hers is metallic. -At times it is deep, with a masculine -note and force. The gift of flexible English -speech, belonging to her by the right -of inheritance of every American—she -is at times of the old American stock, -but more often of foreign-born parents,—she -is apt to wrap in stereotyped -phrases or newspaper slang. In her -bustling life, formed, stamped, and endowed -in spirit by an iron-grooved, commercial -world, she gives little consideration -to use of the greatest of all -instruments and the mightiest of all -arts. She has not the instinct of attention -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -to her mother tongue which marks -women of fine breeding.</p> - -<p>The best thing made by man—good -books—she has little love for. The -newspaper and to-day’s flimsy novel of -adventure stand in their stead. There -were times when her reading had the -illuminating calm of Milton’s “Penseroso” -and the buoyant freshness of -Shakespeare’s comedies. But that was -when the rosy morning of her life stood -on the mountain-top of school-girl idealism -and looked not at things near by, -but afar—a period not long when compared -to the jaded vacuity of later -years.</p> - -<p>To this shapely woman a writer is -presented as “the highest paid lady-writer -in the world.” The highest paid! -Where, then, is literature, O Milton, -with thy ten pounds for “Paradise -Lost,” and eight more from Printer -Simmons to thy widow! Where, O immortal -writer of the simplicities of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -Wakefield, apprenticed in thy poverty to -Publisher Newberry! Where, then, -singer and gauger Robert Burns! -“Learning,” says Thomas Fuller, in his -“Holy States,” “learning hath gained -most by those books by which the -printers have lost.”</p> - -<p>This woman is fair and seemly. -When you look upon her you think how -full of strength and well-knit is her body. -You foresee her the mother of strong -and supple children. She is graceful as -she moves—a result of her freedom and -a sign of her strength—and she is mistress -of the occasion always. In this -domination (the right of the domina) -she has, even when unmarried and as -early as in her teens, the poise and solidity -of the matron. She scorns your supposition -that she is not informed in -every worldly line, and that the wavering -hesitancy of the one who does not -know could be hers. She rarely blushes, -and is therefore a negative witness to -Swift’s hard-cut apophthegm— -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“A virtue but at second-hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">They blush because they understand.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Although conventional, she is often -uninstructed in petty distinctions and -laws which of late more and more growingly -have manacled the hands, fettered -the feet, and dwarfed the folk of our -democracy; and which threaten that -plasticity which, it is claimed, is the -great characteristic of life. “It is quite -possible,” says Clifford in his “Conditions -of Mental Development,” “for -conventional rules of action and conventional -habits of thought to get such -power that progress is impossible.... -In the face of such danger <i>it is not right -to be proper</i>.”</p> - -<p>Secretly our St. Louis neighbor, like -most women, subjects herself to</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">“the chill dread sneer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conventional, the abject fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of form-transgressing freedom.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -Openly she often passes it by and remarks, -rocking her chair a trifle uneasily, -that she is as good as anybody else. -For some unspoken reason you never -ask her if every one else is as good as -she. You recall what de Tocqueville -wrote eighty years ago: “If I were -asked to what the singular prosperity -and growing strength of that [American] -people ought mainly to be attributed, -I should reply—to the superiority -of their women.”</p> - -<p>Of all so-called civilized women, she -makes the greatest variation in her -treatment of those of her own and those -of the other sex. Toward women she is -apt to be dull, splenetic, outspoken -about what she esteems the faults of -others. Even the weaknesses of her -husband she analyzes to their friends—herein -is a fertile source of divorce. -Toward women, you observe, she is apt -to be metallic, rattling, and uncharitable, -or possibly over-social, relieving the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> -peccant humors of her mind and attitudinizing -upon what she esteems a -man’s estimate of women—to please the -sex she is not of. To men she is pert, -flippant, witty, caustic, rapid, graceful, -and gay. At times she amuses them and -herself by slurring upon other women. -She seems to leave it to the man to establish -the spirit upon which the two shall -meet; and by deft hand and turn and -movement she is constantly suggesting -her eternal variation from him. The -woman is always chaste. It follows that -marriages are many.</p> - -<p>A not uncommon fruit of marriage -vows is an application for divorce, -which she estimates with such levity -and mental smack that you would -hesitate to bring a young girl to her -presence.</p> - -<p>“Has she applied, do you know?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! they’ve separated.”</p> - -<p>“On what grounds is she going to get -it?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span></p> - -<p>“If she isn’t careful she’ll lose her -case by seeing him too often.”</p> - -<p>These are a few of many such sentences -heard from her lips in public -places.</p> - -<p>Nothing higher than what an ordinary -civil contract seeks seems to be sought -in her marital affairs. She undoes the -decree of old Pope Innocent III., to -whom is ascribed the ordination of marriage -as a function of his church and -the claim of its sanctified indissolubility. -In the light of her action marriage is -truly and purely a civil contract, and -devoid of that grace, resignation, forbearance, -patience, tenderness, sweetness, -and calm which make it truly -religious.</p> - -<p>She is strong, she is hopeful, she is -ardent. She knows herself and her -power—that it is of the flesh which aims -at prettiness. The divine beauty of -spirit in the countenance she does not -know. In her midst Fra Angelico would -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -find few sitters. Her religion, commonly -that which in other ages passed -from a propulsive, burning spirit to -frozen formalism, is the crystallized -precept of theologue and priest, the -fundamental ecstasy and informing soul -having long since departed. If she had -a real religion she could not be what -she is.</p> - -<p>Those questions of our day that shove -their gaunt visages into sympathetic -minds she has little knowledge of, and -little of that curiosity which leads to -knowledge. The fashion of her gown -and the weekly relays at the theatre are -nearer to her heart, and to her thinking -touch her more personally, than the -moral miasmata and physical typhoids -of her neighboring Poverty Flat. Both -pests the adjustment of her household -relations brings within her door. For -her dwelling is commonly domesticked -by dusky shapes upon whom also the real -things of life sit lightly, to whom permanence -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -and serious thought and work -are rare. Their engagement is by the -week, like that of pitiful vaudeville associates, -and their performance as surpassingly -shallow. They come upon -their stage of work, veneer their little -task with clever sleight of hand, and roll -off to the supine inertness and inanity -of their cabin.</p> - -<p>This woman has therefore in her -hands no feeling of the real relation and -friendship that grow between mistress -and maid who live the joys and sorrows -of years together. By the less fortunate -themselves, as well as by her own -shallow skimming, her sympathies with -the less fortunate are dwarfed. She -looks upon her domestic as a serving -sub-human animal, infinitely below herself, -tolerated because of its menial performance, -and barely possessed of the -soul which her ecclesiastical tradition -says is in every human form. In this -deflection of her moral sense, can the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -hand of secular justice be punishing -the wrong-doing of past centuries—the -bringing in putrid slave-ships the captured, -dazed, Eden-minded, animal-man—“the -blameless Ethiopian”—to our -shores?</p> - -<p>She is born of fine material. When -her nature is awry it is because of lack -of right incentive. Old measures and -life estimates are absurd to her quick -senses, and none of the best of our modern -values are put in their place. Her -creed is wholly at variance with the facts -of life to-day. If substantial instruction -had entered the formative period of her -life, there would have been no substance -to project the darker parts of her -shadow. Her nature is now ill-formed -because of the misdirection of its elemental -forces. She knows the tenor of -her empire, and in truth and secretly -she wonders how long her reign will -endure.</p> - -<p>“And therefore,” says Aristotle, in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> -his Politics, “women and children must -be trained by education with an eye to -the state, if the virtues of either of them -are supposed to make any difference in -the virtue of the state. And they must -make a difference, for children grow up -to be citizens, and half the persons in a -state are women.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Abiding beside this overdressed -woman is an underdressed man. His -first striking quality is a certain sweet-natured -patience—a result of his optimistic -dwelling in the future. Not -content with the present, and having forgotten -the values of present-day simple -life, he lives in a future of fictitious -money values. “All human power,” he -thinks, with Balzac, “is a compound of -time and patience. Powerful beings will -and wait.” He knows his power and he -waits.</p> - -<p>“It’s going to be worth a good -deal.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span></p> - -<p>“In a few years, that’ll be a good -thing.”</p> - -<p>“Fifteen years from now it’ll sell for -ten times its present value.”</p> - -<p>People have called him deficient in -imagination. Not since the old Greeks -have there been such ideal seekers upon -this golden nugget of our solar system -which we call the earth; nor since the -old Hellenes has there been such an -idealistic people as that of which he is a -part. In Elizabeth’s time, indeed, there -was imaginative vigor similar to his. -Then as now they were holding the earth -in their hands and standing on the stars -to view it as it whirled.</p> - -<p>Instead of turning his fertile thought -toward art or literature, he bends it first -of all to material things. Schemes for -developing land, for dredging rivers, for -turning forests into lumber or railway -ties, for putting up sky-scrapers facing -four avenues; schemes for building and -controlling transcontinental railways -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -and interoceanic fleets; schemes for -raising wheat by the million bushels and -fattening cattle by hundreds of thousands; -schemes for compressing air, gas, -cotton, beef; for domestic and foreign -mining; for irrigation; for oil borings—he -brings his dynamic energy and resourcefulness -to the evolution of all -things but the human who is to be yoked -to work out his plan.</p> - -<p>In theory he is democratic and -humane—for the future, after his interests -in dividends shall have ceased. But -his reckless exploiting of human life -for the present, now growing more and -more common by means of impersonal -agents, is distinctly at war with our -foundation, democratic ideas which hold -one man’s life as good as another’s and -which made his existence possible.</p> - -<p>An essentially material basis of life -turns his natural idealism into practical -values and activities. He is an ideal -practician, or rather a practical idealist. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span></p> - -<p>His unnatural attitude toward to-day—that -is, his futurity—and his inconsiderateness -for to-day’s sunshine, put -him in a false position, which bears the -fruit of self-consciousness. Nature is -not self-conscious. The primal man was -not self-conscious. Self-consciousness -implies pain; it means that a fellow-being -is not at one with his surroundings; -that extraneous, false, or hostile -things are pushing him from his native -status. If his pain, whether physical or -spiritual, is eased, morbidness disappears.</p> - -<p>In this man’s self-conscious habit he -jumps at once to the conclusion that if -you do not like his town you do not -like him. Your taste is a personal -affront. There is no logical connection, -but he has a certain “defect of heat” -which Dean Swift avers lies in men of -the Anglo-Saxon type. The cordiality -and open-handedness with which he first -met you wanes. That he has one of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -best of hearts, and one of the strongest -of heads, you are sure. He inwardly has -the same faith. He knows it as Achilles -knew his own strength, and the knowledge -gives him sometimes the leonine -front which the son of silver-footed -Thetis boasted. But your not recognizing -the superiority of his physical -and spiritual environment over all the -world causes an irritation deeper than -the epidermis—to the nerve-centres, in -fact.</p> - -<p>“What do you think!” he laughed, -shaking burlily and plunging hands in -pockets. “What do you think! The -other day in Washington I met an Englishman, -and when I told him the United -States was the best country in the world, -and the State I lived in the best State in -the best country, and the town I lived in -the best town in the best State, and the -block my office was in the best block in -the best town, and my office the best office -in the best block——” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span></p> - -<p>“And you the best man in the best -office,” I interjected, to which he laughed -a hearty affirmative.</p> - -<p>“What do you think he said? Why, -‘Comfohtaable, awh! comfohtaable!’ I -told him it <i>was</i> comfortable,—damned -comfortable.”</p> - -<p>This very Englishman, with that condescension -of manner which at times we -see foreigners assume, declared such -mental individualization to be purely -American. Vanity, audacity, and self-appreciation -exist among all peoples, -and even from the banks of the Isis we -hear how the late Dr. Jowett averred, -“I am the Master of Baliol College; -Baliol is the first college in Oxford; -Oxford is the first city in England; -England is the first country in the -world.”</p> - -<p>United with the feeling of personal -worth and independence in this citizen -by the Big Muddy is, paradoxically, -another characteristic—namely, a great -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> -tolerance. He could hardly expect tolerance -himself if he did not extend it -to another who may have opinions diametrically -opposed to his own, is probably -his attitude of mind. He is in his -way a sort of embodiment of the spirit -of our national constitution.</p> - -<p>But this largess of broad tolerance -leaves him lacking a gift of the discriminating -or critical judgment. The sense -or feeling of quality—that which measures -accurately spiritual and artistic -values—his very breadth and practical -largeness, his democracy, allow no -growth to. A sensitive discrimination, -the power of differentiation, is no natural -endowment, but a result of training, -mental elimination, comparison, association, -and a dwelling in inherent spiritual -values.</p> - -<p>Through his worth and capacity in -other directions he would have this -quality if he “had time” and seclusion -for thought. But his life makes it possible -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -for an explosive and heated talker, -a mouther of platitudinous phrase, to -stand cheek by jowl in his esteem with -a seer of elevation and limpid thoughtfulness. -His estimate of even lighter -publicities is tinctured by this defect—the -theatrical, for instance, where a -verdant girl, lavishing upon her ambition -for the stage the money she inherited -from a father’s patent syrup or -pills, and an actress of genius and experience -fall in his mind in the same category -because a theatrical syndicate has -equally advertised each.</p> - -<p>What the result to politics of this indiscriminating -and non-sagacious judgment, -this lack of feeling for finer lines -in character—mark, peculiar nature, as -Plato means when he uses the word in -the Phædrus—would be hard to estimate.</p> - -<p>Although for the most part a private -citizen absorbed in his own affairs, the -holder of an office has to him a peculiar -glamour. He is apt to fall into the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span> -thinking lines of writers of nameless editorials, -who, forgetful of their own -hidden effulgence, fillip at quiet folk -as “parochial celebrities” and “small -deer.” And yet he knows that he lives -in an age of réclame, and that by the expenditure -of a few dollars in direct or -indirect advertisement a name may be -set before more people than our forefathers -numbered on the first Independence -Day.</p> - -<p>In his midst is a certain publicity of -spirit, and in his estimation work undertaken -in the sight of men is of a higher -order than that done in the privacy of -one’s closet. The active life is everything; -the contemplative, nothing. -Talking is better than writing—it so -easily gives opportunity for the aggressive -personality. For a young woman -looking to support herself he advocated -type-writing in a public office -in preference to the retirement of nursery -governess. When the girl drew -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> -back with the dread of publicity which -results from the retired life of women, -he exclaimed, “It’s all a question of -whether you’ve got the courage to take -the higher thing.”</p> - -<p>If he is a fruit of self-cultivation, he -enjoys talking of the viridity of his -growth as well as these now purpler -days. During early struggles he may -have undergone suffering and privation. -In that event, if his nature is narrow -and hard, he has become narrower and -harder, and his presence, like Quilp’s, -shrivels and deadens every accretion -save his interest. But when he is of the -better sort of soil, adversity discovers -the true metal, and misfortune gives him -a sympathy, depth, and tenderness that -charm you to all defects. You would -migrate to his neighborhood to live in -the light of his genial warmth. You -think of the beautiful encomium Menelaus -pronounced upon Patroclus—“He -knew how to be kind to all men.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span></p> - -<p>Beyond all, he is open-eyed and open-eared. -And above all he is affirmative; -never negative. His intuition tells him -it is affirmation that builds, and that -Bacon says right—“it is the peculiar -trait of the human intellect to be more -moved and excited by affirmatives than -by negatives.”</p> - -<p>“Why do people buy and read such -fool stuff as ‘Treasure Island’? I can’t -see.”</p> - -<p>“They read it for its story of adventure, -and for its rare way of telling the -story,” I ventured, in answer. “They -read it for its style.”</p> - -<p>“Style! Gemini! Style! I should -smile! I can write a better book than -that myself!”</p> - -<p>“Then it might pay you as a business -venture to set yourself about it.”</p> - -<p>“It’s by a man named Stevenson, and -he’s written other stories. Are they all -as bad?”</p> - -<p>Strange he should make such a criticism -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -of Louis Stevenson, in literature -pronouncedly the successful man. For -success in the abstract, and successful -men and women in the concrete—the -word success is here used in its vulgar, -popular sense, in reference to material -advancement, not to ethical or spiritual -development—he worships. Success is -a chief god in his pantheon,—to have -returns greater than one’s effort or -worth deserve. Yet he believes with the -author of Lorna Doone, “the excess of -price over value is the true test of success -in life.” None of us would think of -saying Shakespeare was a success; or -Milton; or John Brown; or Martin -Luther. But Pope, with his clever -money-making, we might call a success, -as did Swift in 1728: “God bless you, -whose great genius has not so transported -you as to leave you to the constancy -of mankind, for wealth is liberty, -and liberty is a blessing fittest for a -philosopher.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span></p> - -<p>The means to end, the processes by -which the successful issue of a matter is -gained, our neighbor of St. Louis tells -you with a smile not to be finikin about. -Many who have had success have not -been. Look at all history, from Abraham -to Joe Smith and Cecil Rhodes and -many of our millionaires. He himself is -not, he declares, but his acts often contradict -his assertion. So long as a man, -or a woman, “gets there,” it does not -matter much how. “Work through a -corporation or trust,” he tells you, and -smiling at you with honest eyes, adds, -“A corporation can do things the individual -man would not.” The one who -succeeds is the model; he is to be -envied; he is the ideal the ancients -sought—the happy man. Pass by -noblesse oblige, human heartedness, elevation -that would not stoop to exploit -human labor, human need, and human -sacrifice—that is, as corporations pass -these qualities by. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span></p> - -<p>In short, let us, in fact, and not by -legend alone, have the character formerly -ascribed by average English folk -to the Yankee.</p> - -<p>Assumption of excellence, he knows, -goes far toward persuading people that -you have it. There is not so great difference -in people after all, this democrat -believes. When one has every material -privilege that will allow him to -assume, that will hedge and fence his -assumption about, he is pretty apt to -succeed, he thinks, and be cried up as a -man of extraordinary virtue, of taste, of -attainment. In any success, commonly -so-called, he asks little of the great -marks by which a man should be judged. -“He has done this.” “He has got -that.” “He is clever,” he says. He -rarely cries, “He is honest.” “He is -true.”</p> - -<p>Marriage he is not so apt as the brilliant -woman beside him to consider impermanent. -This is wholly a result of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span> -convention, for women, by their very -nature and the conditions of married -life, cling more closely to the permanence -of the union.</p> - -<p>In marital relations he has more liberty. -When she asks him if she may, or -in her phrase “can,” do so and so, and -in rehearsing the matter says he “let -her,” he accepts her homage and the -servile status she voluntarily assumes. -You exclaim that men for many centuries -have been apt to do this. Entirely, -if offered him by such an -enchantress.</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“If she be small, slight-natured, miserable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How shall men grow?”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Toward women, with all his subtlety, he -is possessed of a certain naïveté, which -renders him a most agreeable companion, -and much at the mercy of such associates.</p> - -<p>On an express leaving St. Louis at -nine of the morning and headed toward -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -the East, two of these men were one day -riding. A stretch of level land, encrusted -in snow and flooded with sunshine -glowing warm and yellow three -weeks after the winter solstice, lengthened -the way. By three in the afternoon -the sight of the passengers was strained -from the pulsation of the train, and -reading gave place to lassitude.</p> - -<p>“Say,” yawned one of the men, “do -you think marriage is a failure?”</p> - -<p>“Failure! failure!” answered the -other. “The biggest kind of a success! -Failure! Holy smoke! Why I’ve just -married my third wife. Failure! It -beats electric lights all hollow.”</p> - -<p>“I don’ know,” answered the questioner, -dyspeptically. “I don’ know. I -go home every week or ten days. My -wife isn’t glad to see me. I’m going -home now. She won’t be glad. They -think more of you when you’re not home -so much.”</p> - -<p>“Whee-u-u-u,” whistled number two. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span></p> - -<p>With a holiday on his hands no man -is more awkward. The secret of giving -himself to enjoyment he does not know. -His relaxation takes crudest form. -Holiday enjoyment means in many cases -sowing money in barbaric fashion, in -every thinkable triviality that entails -expense. That which he has bent every -nerve toward getting, for which he has -grown prematurely careworn, the possession -of which vulgar philosophy -counts the summa summarium of life, -this he must scatter broadcast, not in -the real things of art and literature -and bettering the condition of the less -fortunate, but in sordid pleasure and -vacuous rushing hither and yon. It is -his way of showing superiority to the -cub who has not the money-making -faculty, or who holds different ideas -of the value of living. Upon such -merrymaking he has been known to -indulge in Homeric laughter over his -own excess, and in tones heralds used -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -in the days of Agamemnon. Physically he -breathes deeper and is broader chested -than many men; he has more voice, and -he puts it out the top of the throat.</p> - -<p>To watch the purple dog-tooth violet -push up through dead leaves in March; -to listen in his fragrant, sunlit spring -to the song of the thrush or the delectable -yearning of the mourning-dove; to -know the quivering windflowers that -freshen soil under oak and hickory—all -this is to him as the yellow primrose to -Peter Bell. There is no pleasure without -an end—that end being money.</p> - -<p>The blooded mare in his stable needs -exercise and he likes not another to drive -her lest she lose response to his voice -and hand. But it is really a bore to -drive; what interest is there in sitting -in a wagon and going round and round? -He must be doing something. He forgets -the retaliation nature takes upon -grooves in human life and that discountenancing -of innocent pleasures is the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -first step toward dementia paralytica -and the end of interest in his fair and -buoyant world. He will probably die -suddenly in middle age, for he is too -extreme in expenditure of himself, and -too small an eater of the honey of life. -Honey-eaters have terrene permanence.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>This man and woman are not disproportionate -neighbors. What will be -their record to the reading of Prince -Posterity?</p> - -<p>The lands that border the Big Muddy -have more of the old American spirit -than the extreme East. The proportions -of the old American blood are there -greater than upon the sea-coast, where -Europeans of a tradition far different -from the ideals and enthusiasms of our -early comers have dropped and settled, -and in such numbers that they can and -do knit their old mental and social habits -into a garment which is impervious to -true American influences. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span></p> - -<p>Our old American teachings!—for instance, -the estimate of the greatness of -work, the dignity of labor of any sort -whatever—that, it was once claimed, -was a great reason our republic existed -to demonstrate to the world the dignity -of work, of bodily exertion directed to -some economic purpose, to produce use, -adapt material things to living. “That -citizen who lives without labor, verily -how evil a man!”—’Αργὸος πολίτης χεῖνος ὡς -χαχός γ’ ἀνήρ, and such sentiments as this -of Euripides dominated our democracy.</p> - -<p>But in our eastern sea-coast cities, -what with the development of an idle, -moneyed class, and the settling down of -millions of immigrants, the European -conception of work’s inherent ignobleness -has grown to strong hold.</p> - -<p>“Work is not a disgrace, but lack of -work is a disgrace,” “Ἔργον δ ουδὲν ὄνειδος, -αεργίη δέ τ’ ὄνειδος. And Hesiod’s words -hold to the present day among genuine -Americans. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span></p> - -<p>Possibly with the great Middle West -and its infinite “go,” optimism, and constructive -breadth, and with such men -and women as these types by the Big -Muddy, the preservation of Americanism -really lies—but it must be with their -greater spiritualization and greater -moral elevation for the future. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>THE NEW ENGLAND -WOMAN</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span></p> - -<p>In order to give her praises a lustre and beauty -peculiar and appropriate, I should have to run -into the history of her life—a task requiring both -more leisure and a richer vein. Thus much I have -said in few words, according to my ability. But -the truth is that the only true commender of this -lady is time, which, so long a course as it has run, -has produced nothing in this sex like her. -<span class="author smcap">Bacon, of Queen Elizabeth</span></p> - -<p>Die Ehelosigkeit eines Theils des weiblichen Geschlechts -ist in dem monogamischen Gesellschaftszustande -eine nicht zu beseitigende statistische -Nothwendigkeit. -<span class="author smcap">Gustave Schönberg</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="THE_NEW_ENGLAND_WOMAN">THE NEW ENGLAND -WOMAN</h2> - -<p>Throughout our fair country there -has long been familiar, in actual life and -in tradition, a corporate woman known -as the New England woman.</p> - -<p>When this woman landed upon American -shores, some two hundred and fifty -years ago, she was doubtless a hearty, -even-minded, rosy-cheeked, full-fleshed -English lass. Once here, however, in her -physical and mental make-up, under pioneer -conditions and influenced by our -electric climate, a differentiation began, -an unconscious individualizing of herself: -this was far, far back in the time of -the Pilgrim Mothers.</p> - -<p>In this adaptation she developed certain -characteristics which are weakly -human, intensely feminine, and again -passing the fables of saints in heroism -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> -and self-devotion. Just what these -qualities were, and why they grew, is -worth considering before—in the bustle -of the twentieth century and its elements -entirely foreign to her primitive and -elevated spirit—she has passed from -view and is quite forgotten.</p> - -<p>In the cities of to-day she is an exotic. -In the small towns she is hardly indigenous. -Of her many homes, from the -close-knit forests of Maine to the hot -sands of Monterey, that community of -villages which was formerly New England -is her habitat. She has always been -most at home in the narrow village of -her forebears, where the church and -school were in simpler days, and still at -times are—even to our generation measuring -only with Pactolian sands in -its hour-glasses—the powers oftenest -quoted and most revered. From these -sources the larger part of herself, the -part that does not live by bread alone, -has been nourished. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span></p> - -<p>It was in the quiet seclusion of the -white homes of these villages that in -past generations she gained her ideals -of life. Such a home imposed what to -women of the world at large might be -inanity. But, with a self-limitation -almost Greek, she saw within those clapboard -walls things dearest to a woman’s -soul,—a pure and sober family life, a -husband’s protective spirit, the birth -and growth of children, neighborly service—keenly -dear to her—for all whose -lives should come within touch of her -active hands, and an old age guarded by -the devotion of those to whom she had -given her activities.</p> - -<p>To this should be added another gift -of the gods which this woman ever bore -in mind with calmness—a secluded -ground, shaded by hemlocks or willows, -where should stand the headstone marking -her dust, over which violets should -blossom to freshening winds, and robin -call to mate in the resurrection time of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> -spring, and in the dim corners of which -ghostly Indian pipes should rise from -velvet mould to meet the summer’s -fervency.</p> - -<p>Under such conditions and in such -homes she had her growth. The tasks -that engaged her hands were many, for -at all times she was indefatigable in -what Plato calls women’s work, τὰ ἔνδον. -She rose while it was yet night; she -looked well to the ways of her household, -and eat not the bread of idleness. -In housekeeping—which in her conservative -neighborhood and among her primary -values meant, almost up to this -hour, not directing nor helping hired -people in heaviest labors, but rather all -that the phrase implied in pioneer days—her -energies were spent—herself -cooking; herself spinning the thread -and weaving, cutting out and sewing all -family garments and household linen; -herself preserving flesh, fish, and fruits. -To this she added the making of yeast, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -candles, and soap for her household, -their butter and cheese—perhaps also -these foods for market sale—at times -their cider, and even elderberry wine for -their company, of as fine a color and distinguished -a flavor as the gooseberry -which the wife of immortal Dr. Primrose -offered her guests. Abigail Adams herself -testifies that she made her own soap, -in her early days at Braintree, and -chopped the wood with which she kindled -her fires. In such accomplishments she -was one of a great sisterhood, thousands -of whom served before and thousands -after her. These women rarely told -such activities in their letters, and -rarely, too, I think, to their diaries; for -their fingers fitted a quill but awkwardly -after a day with distaff or butter-moulding.</p> - -<p>These duties were of the external -world, mainly mechanical and routine, -and they would have permitted her—an -untiring materialist in all things workable -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -by hands—to go many ways in the -wanderings of thought, if grace, flexibility, -and warmth had consorted with -the Puritan idea of beauty. She had -come to be an idealist in all things -having to do with the spirit. Nevertheless, -as things stood, she had but one -mental path.</p> - -<p>The powers about her were theocratic. -They held in their hands her life and -death in all physical things, and her life -and death per omnia sæcula sæculorum. -They held the right to whisper approval -or to publish condemnation. Her eager, -active spirit was fed by sermons and exhortations -to self-examination. Nothing -else was offered. On Sundays and at -the prayer-meetings of mid-week she -was warned by these teachers, to whom -everybody yielded, to whom in her childhood -she had been taught to drop a wayside -courtesy, that she should ever be -examining head and heart to escape -everlasting hell-fire, and that she should -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -endure so as to conduct her devoted life -as to appease the anger of a God as vindictive -as the very ecclesiasts themselves. -No escape or reaction was possible.</p> - -<p>The effect of all this upon a spirit so -active, pliant, and sensitive is evident. -The sole way open to her was the road -to introspection—that narrow lane -hedged with the trees of contemplative -life to all suffering human kind.</p> - -<p>Even those of the community whose -life duties took them out in their world, -and who were consequently more objective -than women, even the men, under -such conditions, grew self-examining to -the degree of a proverb, “The bother -with the Yankee is that he rubs badly -at the juncture of the soul and body.”</p> - -<p>In such a life as this first arose the -subjective characteristics of the New -England woman at which so many gibes -have been written, so many flings -spoken; at which so many burly sides -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -have shaken with laughter ἄσβεστος. -Like almost every dwarfed or distorted -thing in the active practical world, -“New England subjectivity” is a result -of the shortsightedness of men, the assumption -of authority of the strong -over the weak, and the wrongs they have -to advance self done one another.</p> - -<p>Nowadays, in our more objective life, -this accent of the ego is pronounced irritating. -But God’s sequence is apt to be -irritating.</p> - -<p>The New England woman’s subjectivity -is a result of what has been—the -enslaving by environment, the control by -circumstance, of a thing flexible, pliant, -ductile—in this case a hypersensitive -soul—and its endeavor to shape itself to -lines and forms men in authority dictated.</p> - -<p>Cut off from the larger world, this -woman was forced into the smaller. Her -mind must have field and exercise for -its natural activity and constructiveness. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -Its native expression was in the great -objective world of action and thought -about action, the macrocosm; stunted -and deprived of its birthright, it turned -about and fed upon its subjective self, -the microcosm.</p> - -<p>Scattered far and wide over the granitic -soil of New England there have been -the women unmarried. Through the -seafaring life of the men, through the -adventures of the pioneer enchanting -the hot-blooded and daring; through -the coaxing away of sturdy youthful -muscle by the call of the limitless fat -lands to the west; through the siren -voice of the cities; and also through the -loss of men in war—that untellable -misery—these less fortunate women—the -unmarried—have in all New England -life been many. All the rounding -and relaxing grace and charm which lie -between maid and man they knew only -in brooding fancy. Love might spring, -but its growth was rudimentary. Their -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -life was not fulfilled. There were many -such spinners.</p> - -<p>These women, pertinacious at their -tasks, dreamed dreams of what could -never come to be. Lacking real things, -they talked much of moods and sensations. -Naturally they would have -moods. Human nature will have its confidant, -and naturally they talked to one -another more freely than to their married -sisters. Introspection plus introspection -again. A life vacuous in external -events and interrupted by no -masculine practicality—where fluttering -nerves were never counterpoised by -steady muscle—afforded every development -to subjective morbidity.</p> - -<p>And expression of their religious life -granted no outlet to these natures—no -goodly work direct upon humankind. -The Reformation, whatever magnificence -it accomplished for the freedom -of the intellect, denied liberty and individual -choice to women. Puritanism -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -was the child of the Reformation. Like -all religions reacting from the degradations -and abuses of the Middle Ages, for -women it discountenanced community -life. Not for active ends, nor of a certainty -for contemplative, were women -to hive together and live independent -lives.</p> - -<p>In her simple home, and by making -the best of spare moments, the undirected -impulse of the spinster produced -penwipers for the heathen and slippers -for the dominie. But there was, through -all the long years of her life, no dignified, -constructive, human expression -for the childless and husbandless -woman. Because of this lack a dynamo -force for good was wasted for centuries, -and tens of thousands of lives were -blighted.</p> - -<p>In New England her theology ruled, -as we have said, with an iron and tyrannous -hand. It published the axiom, and -soon put it in men’s mouths, that the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -only outlet for women’s activities was -marriage. No matter if truth to the -loftiest ideals kept her single, a woman -unmarried, from a Garden of Eden point -of view and the pronunciamento of the -average citizen, was not fulfilling the -sole and only end for which he dogmatized -women were made—she was not -child-bearing.</p> - -<p>In this great spinster class, dominated -by such a voice, we may physiologically -expect to find an excess of the neurotic -altruistic type, women sickened and extremists, -because their nature was unexpressed, -unbalanced, and astray. They -found a positive joy in self-negation and -self-sacrifice, and evidenced in the perturbations -and struggles of family life -a patience, a dumb endurance, which the -humanity about them, and even that of -our later day, could not comprehend, -and commonly translated into apathy or -unsensitiveness. The legendary fervor -and devotion of the saints of other -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -days pale before their self-denying discipline.</p> - -<p>But instead of gaining, as in the -mediæval faith, the applause of contemporaries, -and, as in those earlier -days, inciting veneration and enthusiasm -as a “holy person,” the modern -sister lived in her small world very generally -an upper servant in a married -brother’s or sister’s family. Ibsen’s -Pillar of Society, Karsten Bernick, in -speaking of the self-effacing Martha, -voices in our time the then prevailing -sentiment, “You don’t suppose I let her -want for anything. Oh, no; I think I -may say I am a good brother. Of -course, she lives with us and eats at our -table; her salary is quite enough for her -dress, and—what can a single woman -want more?... You know, in a large -house like ours, it is always well to have -some steady-going person like her whom -one can put to anything that may turn -up.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span></p> - -<p>Not such estimates alone, but this -woman heard reference to herself in -many phrases turning upon her chastity. -Her very classification in the current -vernacular was based upon her condition -of sex. And at last she witnessed -for her class an economic designation, -the essence of vulgarity and the consummation -of insolence—“superfluous -women;” that is, “unnecessary from -being in excess of what is needed,” -women who had not taken husbands, or -had lived apart from men. The phrase -recalls the use of the word “female”—meaning, -“for thy more sweet understanding,” -a woman—which grew in -use with the Squire Westerns of the -eighteenth century, and persisted even -in decent mouths until Charles Lamb -wrapped it in the cloth of gold of his -essay on Modern Gallantry, and buried -it forever from polite usage.</p> - -<p>In another respect, also, this New -England spinster grew into a being such -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> -as the world had not seen. It is difficult -of explanation. Perhaps most easily -said, it is this: she never by any motion -or phrase suggested to a man her variation -from him. All over the world -women do this; unconsciously nearly -always; in New England never. The -expression of the woman has there been -condemned as immodest, unwomanly, -and with fierce invective; the expression -of the man been lauded. Das Ewig-Weibliche -must persist without confession -of its existence. In the common -conception, when among masculine comrades -she should bear herself as a sexless -sort of half-being, an hermaphroditic -comrade, a weaker, unsexed -creature, not markedly masculine, like -her brother or the present golfing -woman, and far from positively feminine.</p> - -<p>All her ideals were masculine; that -is, all concrete and human expression of -an ideal life set before her was masculine. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -Her religion was wholly masculine, -and God was always “He.” Her art in -its later phases was at its height in the -“Spectator” and “Tatler,” where the -smirking belles who matched the bewigged -beaux of Anne’s London are -jeered at, and conviction is carried the -woman reader that all her sex expressions -are if not foul, fool, and sometimes -both fool and foul.</p> - -<p>In this non-recognition of a woman’s -sex, its needs and expression in home -and family life, and in the domination of -masculine ideals, has been a loss of -grace, facile touch in manner, vivacity, -légèreté; in short, a want of clarity, -delicacy, and feminine strength. To put -the woman’s sex aside and suppress it -was to emphasize spinster life—and increase -it. It is this nullification of her -sex traits that has led the world to say -the New England woman is masculine, -when the truth is she is most femininely -feminine in everything but sex—where -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> -she is most femininely and self-effacingly -<i>it</i>.</p> - -<p>It is in this narrowness, this purity, -simplicity, and sanctity, in this circumspection -and misdirection, that we have -the origin of the New England woman’s -subjectivity, her unconscious self-consciousness, -and that seeming hermaphroditic -attitude that has attracted the -attention of the world, caused its wonder, -and led to its false judgment of her -merit.</p> - -<p>Social changes—a result of the Zeitgeist—within -the last two generations -have brought a broadening of the conception -of the “sphere” of women. -Puritan instincts have been dying. Rationalism -has to a degree been taking -their place. While, on the other hand,—one -may say this quite apart from construing -the galvanic twitchings of a revived -mediævalism in ecclesiastic and -other social affairs as real life—there -have also come conceptions of the liberty -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> -and dignity of womanhood, independent -or self-dependent, beyond those -which prevailed in the nunnery world.</p> - -<p>A popular feeling has been growing -that a woman’s sphere is whatever she -can do excellently. What effect this -will have on social relations at large we -cannot foresee. From such conditions -another chivalry may spring! What -irony of history if on New England -soil!! Possibly, the custom that now -pertains of paying women less than men -for the same work, the habit in all businesses -of giving women the drudging -details,—necessary work, indeed, but -that to which no reputation is affixed,—and -giving to men the broader tasks in -which there is contact with the world -and the result of contact, growth, may -ultimately react, just as out of injustice -and brutalities centuries ago arose a -chivalrous ideal and a knightly redresser.</p> - -<p>The sparseness of wealth, the meagreness -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -of material ideals, and the frugality, -simplicity, and rusticity of New -England life have never allowed a development -of popular manners. Grace -among the people has been interpreted -theologically; never socially. Their -geniality, like their sunshine, has always -had a trace of the northeast wind—chilled -by the Labrador current of their -theology. Native wit has been put out -by narrow duties. The conscience of -their theology has been instinctively for -segregation, never for social amalgamation. -They are more solitary than gregarious.</p> - -<p>We should expect, then, an abruptness -of manner among those left to develop -social genius—the women—even -among those travelled and most generously -educated. We should expect a -degree of baldness and uncoveredness -in their social processes, which possibly -might be expressed by the polysyllable -which her instructor wrote at the end -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -of a Harvard Annex girl’s theme to express -its literary quality, “unbuttoned”—unconsciously.</p> - -<p>When you meet the New England -woman, you see her placing you in her -social scale. That in tailor-making you -God may have used a yardstick different -from the New England measure has -not yet reached her consciousness; nor -that the system of weights and measures -of what Sir Leslie Stephen calls “the -half-baked civilization of New England” -may not prevail in all towns and countries. -Should you chance not to fit any -notch she has cut in her scale, she is apt -to tell you this in a raucous, strident -voice, with a schoolma’am air in delivery -of her opinion. If she is untravelled -and purely of New England surroundings, -these qualities may be accented. -She is undeniably frank and unquestionably -truthful. At all times, in centuries -past and to-day, she would scorn such -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span> -lies as many women amazingly tell for -amusement or petty self-defence.</p> - -<p>It is evident that she is a good deal of -a fatalist. This digression will illustrate: -If you protest your belief that so -far as this world’s estimate goes some -great abilities have no fair expression, -that in our streets we jostle mute inglorious -Miltons; if you say you have -known most profound and learned -natures housed on a Kansas farm or in -a New Mexico cañon; nay, if you aver -your faith that here in New England -men and women of genius are unnoticed -because Messrs. Hue and Cry, voicing -the windier, have not appreciated larger -capacities, she will pityingly tell you -that this larger talent is supposititious. -If it were real, she continues, it must -have risen to sight and attracted the -eye of men. Her human knowledge is -not usually deep nor her insight subtle, -and she does not know that in saying -this she is contradicting the law of literary -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -history, that the producers of permanent -intellectual wares are often not -recognized by their contemporaries, nor -run after by mammonish publishers. -And at last, when you answer that the -commonest question with our humankind -is nourishment for the body, that -ease and freedom from exhausting -labor must forerun education, literature, -art, she retorts that here is proof she is -right: if these unrecognized worthies -you instance had the gifts you name, -they would be superior to mere physical -wants.</p> - -<p>If you have longanimity, you do not -drive the generality closer; you drown -your reflections in Sir Thomas Browne: -“The iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth -her poppy and deals with the -memory of men without distinction to -merit of perpetuity.... Who knows -whether the best of men be known, or -whether there be not more remarkable -persons forgot than any that stand -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> -remembered in the known account of -time?”</p> - -<p>Her narrow fatalism, united with the -conservatism and aristocratic instincts -common to all women from their retired -life and ignorance of their kind, gives -the New England woman a hedged sympathy -with the proletarian struggle for -freer existence. It may be lack of comprehension -rather than lack of sympathy. -She would cure by palliations, a -leprosy by healing divers sores. At -times you find her extolling the changes -wrought in the condition of women during -the last seventy years. She argues -for the extension of education; her conservatism -admits that. She may not -draw the line of her radicalism even -before enfranchisement. But the vaster -field of the education of the human race -by easier social conditions, by lifting -out of money worship and egoism,—this -has never been, she argues, and therefore -strenuously insists it never will be. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span></p> - -<p>Her civic spirit is Bostonesque. A -town’s spirit is a moral and spiritual -attitude impressed upon members of a -community where events have engendered -unity of sentiment, and it commonly -subordinates individual idiosyncrasies.</p> - -<p>The spirit Boston presents includes a -habit of mind apparently ratiocinative, -but once safely housed in its ism incredulously -conservative and persistently -self-righteous—lacking flexibility. -Within its limits it is as fixed as the -outline of the Common. It has externally -a concession and docility. It is -polite and kind—but when its selfishness -is pressing its greediness is of the -usurious lender. In our generation it -is marked by lack of imagination, originality, -initiative. Having had its origin -in Non-conformity, it has the habit of -seeing what it is right for others to do -to keep their house clean—pulling down -its mouth when the rest of the world -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -laughs, square-toeing when the rest trip -lightly, straight-lacing when the other -human is erring, but all the time carrying -a heart under its east-wind stays, -and eyes which have had a phenomenal -vision for right and wrong doing—for -others’ wrongdoing especially; yet -withal holding under its sour gravity -moral impulses of such import that they -have leavened the life of our country -to-day and rebuked and held in check -easier, lighter, less profound, less illuminated, -less star-striking ideals.</p> - -<p>It is a spirit featured not unsimilarly -to the Lenox landscape—safe, serene, -inviting, unable in our day to produce -great crop without the introduction of -fresh material—and from like cause. A -great glacier has pressed on both human -spirit and patch of earth. But the -sturdy, English bedrock of the immaterial -foundation was not by the glacier -of Puritanism so smoothed, triturated, -and fertilized as was Berkshire soil by -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span> -the pulverizing weight of its titanic ice -flow.</p> - -<p>This spirit is also idealistic outside its -civic impulses,—referring constantly to -the remote past or future,—and in its -eyes the abstract is apt to be as real as -the concrete. To this characteristic is -due not only Emersonism and Alcottism—really -old Platonism interpreted for -the transcendental Yankee—but also -that faith lately revivified, infinitely vulgarized, -as logically distorted as the -pneuma doctrine of the first century, -and called “Christian Science.” The -idealism of Emerson foreran the dollar-gathering -idealism of Mrs. Mary Baker -Eddy as the lark of spring foreruns the -maple worm.</p> - -<p>This idealism oftenest takes religious -phases—as in its Puritan origin—and in -many instances in our day is content -with crude expression. Of foregone -days evidence is in an incomplete list—only -twenty-five—of Brigham Young’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span> -wives, some of whom bore such old New -England patronymics as Angell, Adams, -Ross, Lawrence, Bigelow, Snow, Folsom. -May a fleeing of these women to Mormonism -be explained by their impatience -and heart-sickness at their unsexing -social condition and religious spirit?—with -the admitting to the great scheme -of life and action but one sex and that -the one to which their theocratic theologians -belonged?</p> - -<p>Speculations of pure philosophy this -New England woman is inclined to fear -as vicious. In dialectics she rests upon -the glories of the innocuous transcendentalism -of the nineteenth century -forties. Exceptions to this rule are perhaps -those veraciously called “occult;” -for she will run to listen to the juggling -logic and boasting rhetoric of Swamis -Alphadananda and Betadananda and -Gammadananda, and cluster about the -audience-room of those dusky fakirs -much as a swarm of bees flits in May. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -And like the bees, she deserts cells filled -with honey for combs machine-made and -wholly empty.</p> - -<p>Illuminated by some factitious light, -she will again go to unheard-of lengths -in extenuating Shelley’s relations to his -wives, and in explaining George Eliot’s -marriage to her first husband. Here, -and for at least once in her life, she combats -convention and reasons upon natural -grounds. “I don’t see the wickedness -of Rudolph,” said one spinster, referring -to the tragedy connecting a -prince of Austria and a lady of the -Vetchera family. “I don’t see why he -shouldn’t have followed his heart. But -I shouldn’t dare say that to any one -else in Boston. Most of them think as -I do, but they would all be shocked to -have it said.”</p> - -<p>“Consider the broad meaning of what -you say. Let this instance become a -universal law.”</p> - -<p>“Still I believe every sensible man -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -and woman applauds Rudolph’s independence.”</p> - -<p>With whatsoever or whomsoever she -is in sympathy this woman is apt to be -a partisan. To husband, parents, and -children there could be no more devoted -adherent. Her conscience, developed -by introspective and subjective pondering, -has for her own actions abnormal -size and activity. It is always alert, -always busy, always prodding, and not -infrequently sickened by its congested -activity. Duty to those about her, and -industry for the same beneficiaries, are -watchwords of its strength; and to fail -in a mote’s weight is to gain condemnation -of two severest sorts—her own -and the community’s. The opinion of -the community in which she lives is her -second almighty power.</p> - -<p>In marriage she often exemplifies that -saying of Euripides which Stobæus has -preserved among the lavender-scented -leaves of his Florilegium—“A sympathetic -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -wife is a man’s best possession.” -She has mental sympathy—a result of -her tense nervous organization, her -altruism in domestic life, her strong -love, and her sense of duty, justice, and -right.</p> - -<p>In body she belongs to a people which -has spent its physical force and depleted -its vitality. She is slight. There is lack -of adipose tissue, reserve force, throughout -her frame. Her lungs are apt to be -weak, waist normal, and hips undersized.</p> - -<p>She is awkward in movement. Her -climate has not allowed her relaxation, -and the ease and curve of motion that -more enervating air imparts. This is -seen even in public. In walking she -holds her elbows set in an angle, and -sometimes she steps out in the tilt of the -Cantabrigian man. In this is perhaps -an unconscious imitation, a sympathetic -copying, of an admirable norm; but it -is graceless in petticoats. As she steps -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -she knocks her skirt with her knees, and -gives you the impression that her leg is -crooked, that she does not lock her knee-joint. -More often she toes in than out.</p> - -<p>She has a marvellously delicate, brilliant, -fine-grained skin. It is innocent -of powder and purely natural. No beer -in past generations has entered its -making, and no port; also, little flesh. -In New England it could not be said, as -a London writer has coarsely put it, -that a woman may be looked upon as an -aggregate of so many beefsteaks.</p> - -<p>Her eyes have a liquid purity and preternatural -brightness; she is the child -of γλαυχῶπις Athena, rather than of βοῶπις -Hera, Pronuba, and ministress to women -of more luxuriant flesh. The brown of -her hair inclines to the ash shades.</p> - -<p>Her features would in passport wording -be called “regular.” The expression -of her face when she lives in more -prosperous communities, where salaries -are and an assured future, is a stereotyped -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -smile. In more uncertain life and -less fortunate surroundings, her countenance -shows a weariness of spirit and -a homesickness for heaven that make -your soul ache.</p> - -<p>Her mind is too self-conscious on the -one hand, and too set on lofty duties on -the other, to allow much of coquetterie, -or flirting, or a femininely accented -camaraderie with men—such as the -more elemental women of Chicago, Cincinnati, -San Francisco, and New York -enjoy. She is farthest possible from -the luxuriant beauty of St. Louis who -declared, “You bet! black-jack-diamond -kind of a time!” when asked if she had -enjoyed her social dash in Newport. -This New England woman would, forsooth, -take no dash in Aurovulgus. But -falling by chance among vulgarities and -iniquities, she guards against the defilement -of her lips, for she loves a pure -and clean usage of our facile English -speech. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span></p> - -<p>The old phase of the New England -woman is passing. It is the hour for -some poet to voice her threnody. Social -conditions under which she developed -are almost obliterated. She is already -outnumbered in her own home by women -of foreign blood, an ampler physique, -a totally different religious conception, -a far different conduct; and a less exalted -ideal of life. Intermixtures will -follow and racial lines gradually fade. -In the end she will not be. Her passing -is due to the unnumbered husbandless -and the physical attenuation of the married—attenuation -resulting from their -spare and meagre diet, and, it is also -claimed, from the excessive household -labor of their mothers. More profoundly -causative—in fact, inciting the -above conditions—was the distorted -morality and debilitating religion impressed -upon her sensitive spirit. Mayhap -in this present decay some Mœra -is punishing that awful crime of self-sufficing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -ecclesiasticism. Her unproductivity—no -matter from what reason, -whether from physical necessity or a -spirit-searching flight from the wrath of -God—has been her death. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>A NEW ENGLAND ABODE -OF THE BLESSED</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">... ἐπὶ χθονὶ πουλυβοτείρη<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ζεὺς Κρονίδης ποίησε δικαιότερον καὶ ἄρειον,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">ἀνδρῶν ἡρώων θεῖον γένος, ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">τοῖς δὲ δίχ’ ἀνθρώπων βίοτον καὶ ἤθε’ ὀπάσσας<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ζεὺς Κρονίδης κατένασσε πατὴρ ἐς πείρατα γαίης·<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—χαὶ τοὶ μὲν ναίουσιν ἀκηδέα θυμὸν ἔχοντες<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—ἐν μαχάρων νήσοισι παῤ Ὠχεανὸν βαθυδίνην,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—ὄλβιοι ἡρωες· τοῖσιν μελιηδέα καρπὸν<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—τρςὶ ἔτεος θάλλοντα φέρει ζείδωρος ἄρουρα.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Hesiod</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Under bloudie Diocletian ... a great number -of Christians which were assembled togither to -heare the word of life ... were slaine by the -wicked pagans at Lichfield, whereof ... as you -would say, The field of dead corpses. -<span class="author smcap">Holinshed</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="A_NEW_ENGLAND_ABODE_OF_THE_BLESSED">A NEW ENGLAND ABODE -OF THE BLESSED</h2> - -<p>Upon the broad level of one of our -Litchfield hills is—if we accept ancient -legend—a veritable Island of the -Blessed. There heroes fallen after -strong fight enjoy rest forever.</p> - -<p>The domination of unyielding law in -the puny affairs of men—the unfathomableness -of Mœra, the lot no man can -escape—comes upon one afresh upon -this hill-top. What clay we are in the -hands of fate! “ἅπαντα τíχτει χθὼν πάλιν τε -λαμβáνει,” cried Euripides—“all things -the earth puts forth and takes again.”</p> - -<p>But why should the efforts of men to -build a human hive have here been -wiped away—here where all nature is -wholesome and in seeming unison with -regulated human life? The air sparkles -buoyantly up to your very eyes—and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -almost intoxicates you with its life -and joy. Through its day-translucence -crows cut their measured flight and -brisker birds flitter, and when the young -moon shines out of a warm west elegiac -whippoorwills cry to the patient night.</p> - -<p>Neither volcanic ashes nor flood, -whirlwind nor earthquake—mere decay -has here nullified men’s efforts for congregated -life and work. The soil of the -hill, porous and sandy, is of moderate -fertility. Native oaks and chestnuts, -slender birches and fragrant hemlocks, -with undergrowths of coral-flowering -laurel, clothe its slopes. Over its sandstone -ledges brooks of soft water treble -minor airs—before they go loitering -among succulent grasses and spearmint -and other thirsty brothers of the distant -meadows.</p> - -<p>Nearly two hundred years ago pioneers -of a Roundhead, independent type—the -type which led William of Orange -across the Channel for preservation of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -that liberty which Englishmen for hundreds -of years had spoken of as “antient”—such -men broke this sod, till -then untouched by axe or plough. They -made clearings, and grouped their -hand-hewn houses just where in cool -mornings of summer they could see the -mists roll up from their hill-locked pond -to meet the rosy day; just where, when -the sun sank behind the distant New -York mountains, they could catch within -their windows his last shaft of gold.</p> - -<p>Here they laid their hearths and dwelt -in primitive comfort. Their summers -were unspeakably beautiful—and hard-working. -Their autumns indescribably -brilliant, hill-side and valley uniting to -form a radiance God’s hand alone could -hold. Their winters were of deep snows -and cold winds and much cutting and -burning of wood. The first voice of -their virid spring came in the bird-calls -of early March, when snow melted and -sap mounted, and sugar maples ran -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span> -syrup; when ploughs were sharpened, -and steaming and patient oxen rested -their sinews through the long, pious -Sabbath.</p> - -<p>Wandering over this village site, now -of fenced-in fields, you find here and -there a hearth and a few cobbles piled -above it. The chimney-shaft has long -since disappeared. You happen upon -stone curbs, and look down to the dark -waters of wells. You come upon bushes -of old-fashioned, curled-petal, pink-sweet -roses and snowy phlox, and upon -tiger lilies flaunting odalisque faces before -simple sweetbrier, and upon many -another garden plant which “a handsome -woman that had a fine hand”—as -Izaak Walton said of her who made the -trout fly—once set as border to her path. -Possibly the very hand that planted -these pinks held a bunch of their sweetness -after it had grown waxen and cold. -The pinks themselves are now choked by -the pushing grass. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span></p> - -<p>And along this line of gooseberry-bushes -we trace a path from house to -barn. Here was the fireplace. The -square of small boulders yonder marks -the barn foundation. Along this path -the house-father bore at sunrise and -sunset his pails of foaming milk. Under -that elm spreading between living-room -and barn little children of the family -built pebble huts, in these rude confines -cradling dolls which the mother had -made from linen of her own weave, or -the father whittled when snow had -crusted the earth and made vain all his -hauling and digging.</p> - -<p>Those winters held genial hours. -Nuts from the woods and cider from the -orchard stood on the board near by. -Home-grown wood blazed in the chimney; -home-grown chestnuts, hidden in -the ashes by busy children, popped to -expectant hands; house-mothers sat -with knitting and spinning, and the -father and farm-men mended fittings -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -and burnished tools for the spring work. -Outside the stars glittered through a -clear sky and the soundless earth below -lay muffled in sleep.</p> - -<p>Over yonder across the road was the -village post-office, and not far away -were stores of merchant supplies. But -of these houses no vestige now remains. -Where the post-house stood the earth is -matted with ground-pine and gleaming -with scarlet berries of the wintergreen. -The wiping-out is as complete as that of -the thousand trading-booths, long since -turned to clay, of old Greek Mycenæ, or -of the stalls of the ancient trading-folk -dwelling between Jaffa and Jerusalem -where Tell-ej-Jezari now lies.</p> - -<p>The church of white clap-boards which -these villagers used for praise and -prayer—not a small temple—still abides. -Many of the snowy houses of old New -England worship pierce their luminous -ether with graceful spires. But this -meeting-house lifts a square, central -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> -bell-tower which now leans on one side -as if weary with long standing. The old -bell which summoned its people to their -pews still hangs behind green blinds—a -not unmusical town-crier. But use, -life, good works have departed with -those whom it exhorted to church duty, -and in sympathy with all the human -endeavor it once knew, but now fordone, -in these days it never rings blithely, it -can only be made to toll. Possibly it -can only be made to toll because of the -settling of its supporting tower. But -the fact remains; and who knows if -some wounded spirit may not be dwelling -within its brazen curves, sick at -heart with its passing and ineffective -years?</p> - -<p>Not far from the church, up a swell -of the land, lies the burying-ground—a -sunny spot. Pines here and there, also -hemlocks and trees which stand bare -after the fall of leaves. But all is bright -and open, not a hideous stone-quarry -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -such as in our day vanity or untaught -taste makes of resting-places of our -dead. Gay-colored mushrooms waste -their luxurious gaudiness between the -trees, and steadfast myrtle, with an -added depth to its green from the air’s -clarity, binds the narrow mounds with -ever-lengthening cords.</p> - -<p>But whether they are purple with -the violets of May or with Michaelmas -daisies, there is rest over all these -mounds—“über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh’.” -Daily gossip and sympathy these neighbors -had. The man of this grave was he -who passed many times a day up and -down the path by the gooseberry-bushes -and bore the foaming milk. He is as -voiceless now as the flies that buzzed -about his shining pail. And the widow -who dwelt across the road—she of the -sad eyes who sat always at her loom, for -her youthful husband was of those who -never came back from the massacre of -Fort William Henry—she to whom this -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> -man hauled a sled of wood for every two -he brought to his own door, to whom his -family carried elderberry wine, cider, -and home mince-meat on Thanksgiving—she, -too, is voiceless even of thanks, -her body lying over yonder, now in complete -rest—no loom, no treadle, no -thumping, no whirring of spinning-wheel, -no narrow pinching and poverty, -her soul of heroic endurance joined with -her long separate soldier soul of action.</p> - -<p>The pathos of their lives and the -warmth of their humanity!—however -coated with New England austerity. -Many touching stories these little headstones -tell—as this:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“To the memory of Mrs. Abigail, Consort of -Mr. Joseph Merrill, who died May 3rd, 1767, in -the 52 year of her age.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>A consort in royal dignity and poetry -is a sharer of one’s lot. Mr. Joseph -Merrill had no acquaintance with the -swagger and pretension of courts, and -he knew no poetry save his hill-side, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> -his villagers, and the mighty songs of -the Bible. He was a plain, simple, -Yankee husbandman, round-shouldered -from carrying heavy burdens, coarse-handed -from much tilling of the earth -and use of horse and cattle. While he -listened to sermons in the white church -down the slope, his eyes were often -heavy for need of morning sleep; and -many a Sunday his back and knees ached -from lack of rest as he stood beside the -sharer of his fortunes in prayer. Yet -his simple memorial warms the human -heart one hundred and thirty-eight -years after his “consort” had for the -last time folded her housewifely hands.</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Of sa great faith and charitie,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">With mutuall love and amitie:<br /></span> -<span class="i1">That I wat an mair heavenly life,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Was never betweene man and wife.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It was doubtless with Master Merrill -as with the subject of an encomium of -Charles Lamb’s. “Though bred a Presbyterian,” -says Lamb of Joseph Paice, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> -“and brought up a merchant, he was the -finest gentleman of his time.”</p> - -<p>In May, 1767, when this sharer of -humble fortune lay down to rest, the -Stamp Act had been repealed but fourteen -months. The eyes of the world -were upon Pitt and Burke and Townshend—and -Franklin whose memorable -examination before the House of Commons -was then circulating as a news -pamphlet. The social gossip of the day—as -Lady Sarah Lennox’s wit recounts—had -no more recognition of the villagers -than George the Fourth.</p> - -<p>But American sinews and muscles -such as these hidden on the Litchfield -Hills were growing in daily strength -by helpful, human exercise, and their -“well-lined braine” was reasoning upon -the Declaratory Act that “Parliament -had power to bind the colonies in all -cases whatsoever.”</p> - -<p>Another stone a few paces away has -quite another story: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Here lies the body of Mr. Stephen Kelsey, who<br /></span> -<span class="i2">died April 2, 1745, in y<sup>e</sup> 71 year of his age<br /></span> -<span class="i12">as you are so was we<br /></span> -<span class="i12">as we are you must be”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The peculiarities of this inscription -were doubtless the stone-cutter’s; and -peradventure it was in the following -way that the rhymes—already centuries -old in 1745 when Stephen Kelsey died—came -to be upon his headstone.</p> - -<p>The carver of the memorial was undeniably -a neighbor and fellow-husbandman -to the children of Mr. Stephen -Kelsey. Money-earning opportunities -were narrow and silver hard to come by -in the pioneering of the Litchfield Hills, -and only after scrupulous saving had -the Kelsey family the cost of the headstone -at last in hand. It was then that -they met to consider an epitaph.</p> - -<p>Their neighbor bespoken to work the -stone was at the meeting, and to open -the way and clear his memory he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> -scratched the date of death upon a tablet -or shingle his own hand had riven.</p> - -<p>“Friend Stephen’s death,” he began, -“calleth to mind a verse often sculptured -in the old church-yard in Leicestershire, -a verse satisfying the soul with -the vanity of this life, and turning our -eyes to the call from God which is to -come. It toucheth not the vexations of -the world which it were vain to deny are -ever present. You carry it in your -memory mayhap, Mistress Remembrance?” -the stone-master interrupting -himself asked, suddenly appealing to a -sister of Master Kelsey.</p> - -<p>Mistress Remembrance, an elderly -spinster whose lover having in their -youth taken the great journey to New -York, and crossed the Devil’s Stepping-Stones—which -before the memory of -man some netherworld force laid an -entry of Manhattan Island—had never -again returned to the Litchfield Hills—Mistress -Remembrance recalled the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> -verses, and also her brother, Master -Stephen’s, sonorous repetition of them.</p> - -<p>In this way it came about that -the mourning family determined they -should be engraven. And there the lines -stand to-day in the hills’ beautiful air—far -more than a century since the hour -when Mistress Remembrance and the -stone-cutter joined the celestial choir in -which Master Stephen was that very -evening singing.</p> - -<p>But another headstone—</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked”—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>quite outdoes Master Kelsey’s in -strange English phrase. It reads:</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">“Michel son of John Spencer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">died Jan ye 24<sup>th</sup> 1756 in y<sup>e</sup> 10<sup>th</sup> year of his age.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Death Conquers All<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Both young and Old<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Tho’ ne’er so wise<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Discreet and Bold<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In helth and Strength<br /></span> -<span class="i8">this youth did Die<br /></span> -<span class="i8">in a moment without one Cry.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span></p> - -<p>And still another perpetuates the -record of the same family:</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In Memory of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mr John Spencer Who<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Died June y<sup>e</sup> 24<sup>th</sup><br /></span> -<span class="i0">1780 in the 70<sup>th</sup><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Year of his Age<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Memory of Submit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spencer Daughter of Mr<br /></span> -<span class="i0">John and Mrs Mary<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spencer Who Died<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nov<sup>br</sup> y<sup>e</sup> 21<sup>th</sup> 1755 in y<sup>e</sup><br /></span> -<span class="i0">1<sup>st</sup> Year of her Age<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh Cruel Death to fill this<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Narrow space In yonder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">House Made a vast emty place<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Was the child called “Submit” because -born a woman! Or did the -parents embody in the name their own -spiritual history of resignation to the -eternal powers?—“to fill this narrow -space, in yonder house made a vast -empty place.”</p> - -<p>Farther up the slope of this God’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span> -Acre a shaft standing high in the soft -light mourns the hazards of our passage -through the world.</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In Memory of Mr.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jeduthun Goodwin who<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Died Feb 13<sup>th</sup> 1809 Aged<br /></span> -<span class="i6">40 Years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Also Mrs. Eunice his<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wife who died August 6<sup>th</sup><br /></span> -<span class="i0">1802 Aged 33 Years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dangers stand thick<br /></span> -<span class="i0">through all the Ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Push us to the Tomb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fierce diseases<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wait around<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hurry Mortals home<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Every village has its tragedy, alas! -and that recounted in this following inscription -is at least one faithful record -of terrifying disaster. Again it seems at -variance with the moral order of the -world that these quiet fields should witness -the terror this tiny memorial hints -at. The stone is quite out of plumb and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span> -moss-covered, but underneath the lichen -it reads:</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Phebe, wife of Ezekiel Markham Died Jyly 14,<br /></span> -<span class="i16">1806 Ae 49<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Also their 3 Sons Bela, Ciba, and Brainad was<br /></span> -<span class="i9">burnt to Death in Oct 1793”<br /></span> -<span class="i7">“In the midst of life we are dead”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The mother lived nearly thirteen -years after. There is no neighboring -record of the father. Perhaps the two -migrated after the fearful holocaust, -and he only returned to place his wife’s -body beside the disfigured remains of -her little ungrown men. Bela, Ciba, and -Brainard rested lonesomely doubtless -those thirteen waiting years, and many -a night must their little ghosts have sat -among the windflowers and hepaticas of -spring, or wandered midst the drifted -needles of the pines in the clear moonlight -of summer, athirst for the mother’s -soul of comfort and courage.</p> - -<p>Again in this intaglio “spelt by th’ -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -unlettered Muse” rises the question of -the stone-cutter’s knowledge of his -mother tongue. The church of the dead -villagers still abides. But nowhere are -seen the remains of a school-house. -Descendants of the cutter of Master -Kelsey’s headstone haply had many -orders.</p> - -<p>The sun of Indian summer upon the -fallen leaves brings out their pungent -sweetness. Except the blossoms of the -subtle witch-hazel all the flowers are -gone. The last fringed gentian fed by -the oozing spring down the hill-side -closed its blue cup a score of days ago. -Every living thing rests. The scene is -filled with a strange sense of waiting. -And above is the silence of the sky.</p> - -<p>With such influences supervening -upon their lives, these people of the -early village—undisturbed as they were -by any world call, and gifted with a -fervid and patient faith—must daily -have grown in consciousness of a homely -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span> -Presence ever reaching under their mortality -the Everlasting Arm.</p> - -<p>This potency abides, its very feeling -is in the air above these graves—that -some good, some divine is impendent—that -the soul of the world is outstretching -a kindred hand.</p> - -<p>In the calm and other-worldliness of -their hill-top the eternal moralities of -the Deuteronomy and of Sophocles stand -clearer to human vision—the good that -is mighty and never grows gray,—μέγας -ἐν τούτοις θεὸς, οὐδὲ γηράσχει.</p> - -<p>The comings and goings, the daily -labors, the hopes and interests of these -early dwellers make an unspeakable -appeal—their graves in the church-yard, -the ruined foundations of their domestic -life beyond—that their output of lives -and years of struggle bore no more lasting -local fruit, however their seed may -now be scattered to the upbuilding of -our South and West, the conversion of -China, and our ordering of the Philippines. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span></p> - -<p>And yet, although their habitations -are fallen, they—such men and women -as they—still live. Their hearts, hands, -and heads are in all institutions of ours -that are free. A great immortality, -surely! If such men and women had -been less severe, less honest, less gifted -for conditions barren of luxuries, less -elevated with an enthusiasm for justice, -less clear in their vision of the eternal -moralities, less simple and direct, less -worthy inheritors of the great idea of -liberty which inflamed generations of -their ancestors, it is not possible that -we should be here to-day doing our work -to keep what they won and carry their -winnings further. Their unswerving -independence in thought and action and -their conviction that the finger of God -pointed their way—their theocratic -faith, their lifted sense of God-leading—made -possible the abiding of their -spirit long after their material body lay -spent. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span></p> - -<p>So it is that upon the level top of the -Litchfield Hills—what with the decay of -the material things of life and the divine -permanence of the spiritual—there is a -resting-place of the Blessed—an Island -of the Blessed as the old Greeks used -to say—an abode of heroes fallen after -strong fighting and enjoying rest forever. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>UP-TO-DATE MISOGYNY</h2> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He is the half part of a blessed man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Left to be finished by such a she;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she a fair divided excellence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>If a man recognise in woman any -quality which transcends the qualities -demanded in a plaything or handmaid—if -he recognise in her the existence of -an intellectual life not essentially dissimilar -to his own, he must, by plainest -logic, admit that life to express itself in -all its spontaneous forms of activity.<br /> -<span class="author smcap">George Eliot</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hard the task: your prison-chamber<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Widens not for lifted latch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the giant thews and sinews<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Meet their Godlike overmatch.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">George Meredith</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span></p> - -<h2 id="UP-TO-DATE_MISOGYNY">UP-TO-DATE MISOGYNY</h2> - -<p>“I hate every woman!” cries Euripides, -in keen iambics in a citation of -the Florilegium of Stobæus. The sentiment -was not new with Euripides—unfortunately. -Before him there was -bucolic Hesiod with his precepts on -wife-choosing. There was Simonides -of Amorgos, who in outcrying the degradation -of the Ionian women told the -degradation of the Ionian men. There -was Hipponax, who fiercely sang “two -days on which a woman gives a man -most pleasure—the day he marries her -and the day he buries her.”</p> - -<p>And along with Euripides was Aristophanes, -the radiant laughter-lover, -the titanic juggler with the heavens -above and earth and men below—Aristophanes -who flouted the women of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span> -Athens in his “Ecclesiazusæ,” and in -the “Clouds” and his “Thesmophoriazusæ.” -Thucydides before them had -named but one woman in his whole -great narrative, and had avoided the -mention of women and their part in the -history he relates.</p> - -<p>“Woman is a curse!” cried Susarion. -The Jews had said it before, when they -told the story of Eve—</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Brought death into the world, and all our woe.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Down through many centuries our -forebears cast to and fro the same sentiment—in -spite of the introduction into -life and literature of the love of men -for women and women for men; in spite -of the growth of romantic love. You -find misogynous expression among the -Latins. In early “Church Fathers,” -such as St. John Chrysostom, you come -upon it in grossest form. Woman is -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -“a necessary ill,” cried the Golden -Mouthed, “a natural temptation, a -wished-for calamity, a household danger, -a deadly fascination, a bepainted -evil.”</p> - -<p>You see the sentiment in the laws of -church and of kingdom. You sight its -miasm in the gloaming and murk of the -Middle Ages, amid the excesses which in -shame for it chivalry affected and exalted. -You read it by the light of the -awful fires that burnt women accessory -to the husband’s crime—for which their -husbands were merely hanged. You see -it in Martin Luther’s injunction to -Catherine von Bora that it ill became -his wife to fasten her waist in front—because -independence in women is unseemly, -their dress should need an -assistant for its donning. You chance -upon it in old prayers written by men, -and once publicly said by men for English -queens to a God “which for the -offence of the first woman hast threatened -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span> -unto all women a common, sharp, -and inevitable malediction.”</p> - -<p>You find the sentiment in Boileau’s -satire and in Pope’s “Characters.” -You open the pages of the Wizard of -the North, who did for his own generations -what Heliodorus and his chaste -Chariclea accomplished for the fourth -century, and you come upon Walter -Scott singing in one of his exquisite -songs—</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Woman’s faith, and woman’s trust,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Write the characters in dust.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>All such sad evidences, it should be -borne in mind, are but the reverse of -the fair picture with which men have -regarded women. But because there is -a reverse side, and its view has entered -and still enters largely into human life, -human estimates, and human fate, it -should be spoken about openly. Women -and men inexperienced in the outer -world of affairs do not realize its still -potent force. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span></p> - -<p>As for the subject of these gibes, for -ages they were silent. During many -generations, in the privacy of their -apartments, the women must have made -mute protests to one another. “These -things are false,” their souls cried. -But they took the readiest defence of -physical weakness, and they loved harmony. -It was better to be silent than -to rise in bold proof of an untruth and -meet rude force.</p> - -<p>Iteration and dogmatic statement of -women’s moral inferiority, coupled as -it often was with quoted text and -priestly authority, had their inevitable -effect upon more sensitive and introspective -characters; it humiliated and -unquestionably deprived many a woman -of self-respect. Still, all along there -must have been a less sensitive, sturdier, -womanhood possessed of the perversive -faith of Mrs. Poyser, that “heaven -made ’em to match the men,” that—<br /> - -<span class="caption">“Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free,”—</span> - -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -men and women rise or sink; that, in -fact, the interests of the two are inseparable -and wholly identical. To broad -vision misogynous expression seems to -set in antagonism forces united by all -the mighty powers of human evolution -throughout millions of years, and the -whole plan of God back of that soul-unfolding.</p> - -<p>The misogynous song and story of -our forebears with momentous fall descended -and became the coarse newspaper -quip which a generation ago -whetted its sting upon women—“Susan -B. Anthonys”—outspoken and seeking -more freedom than social prejudices of -their day allowed. An annoying gnat, -it has in these days been almost exterminated -by diffusion of the oil of fairness -and better knowledge.</p> - -<p>But even yet periodicals at times give -mouth to the old misogyny. Such an -expression, nay, two, are published in -otherwise admirable pages, and with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -these we have to do. They are from the -pen of a man of temperament, energy, -vigorous learning, and an “esurient -Genie” for books—professor of Latin -in one of our great universities, where -misogynous sentiment has found expression -in lectures in course and also in -more public delivery.</p> - -<p>The first reverse phrase is of “the -neurotic caterwauling of an hysterical -woman.” Cicero’s invective and pathos -are said to be perilously near that perturbance.</p> - -<p>Now specialists in nervous difficulties -have not yet determined there is marked -variation between neurotic caterwauling -of hysterical women and neurotic caterwauling -of hysterical men. Cicero’s -shrieks—for Cicero was what is to-day -called “virile,” “manly,” “strenuous,” -“vital”—Cicero’s would naturally approximate -the men’s.</p> - -<p>To normally tuned ears caterwaulings -are as unagreeable as misogynous -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span> -whoops—waulings of men as cacophonous -as waulings of women. Take an -instance in times foregone. In what is -the megalomaniac whine of Marie Bashkirtseff’s -“Journal” more unagreeable -than the egotistical vanity of Lord -Byron’s wails? Each of these pen people -may be viewed from another point. -More generously any record—even an -academic misogyny—is of interest and -value because expressing the idiosyncratic -development or human feeling of -the world.</p> - -<p>But, exactly and scientifically speaking, -neurotic and hysteric are contradictory -terms. Neurotic men and -women are described by physicians as -self-forgetting sensitives—zealous, executive; -while the hysterics of both -sexes are supreme egotists, selfish, vain, -and vague, uncomfortable both in personal -and literary contact—just like wit -at their expense. “If we knew all,” -said George Eliot, who was never hysterical, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -“we would not judge.” And -Paul of Tarsus wrote wisely to those -of Rome, “Therefore thou art inexcusable, -O man, whosoever thou art, that -judgest.”</p> - -<p>Science nowadays declares that the -man who wears a shirt-collar cannot be -well, and equally the same analytic -spirit may some day make evident that -neurosis and hysteria are legacies of -a foredone generation, who found the -world out of joint and preyed upon its -strength and calmness of nerve to set -things right. Humaneness and fair estimate -are remedies to-day’s dwellers -upon the earth can offer, whether the -neurosis and hysteria be Latin or Saxon, -men’s or indeed women’s.</p> - -<p>The second of the phrases to which -we adverted tells of “the unauthoritative -young women who make dictionaries -at so much a mile.” It has the -smack of the wit of the eighteenth century—of -Pope’s studied and never-ceasing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -gibes at Lady Mary Wortley -Montagu after she had given him the -mitten; of Dr. Johnson’s “female day” -and his rumbling thunder over “the -freaks and humors and spleen and -vanity of women”—he of all men who -indulge in freaks and humors and spleen -and vanity!—whose devotion to his bepainted -and bedizened old wife was the -talk of their literary London.</p> - -<p>We are apt to believe the slurs that -Pope, Johnson, and their self-applauding -colaborers cast upon what they commonly -termed “females” as deterrent to -their fairness, favor, and fame. The -high-noted laugh which sounded from -Euphelia’s morning toilet and helped -the self-gratulation of those old beaux -not infrequently grates upon our twentieth -century altruistic, neurotic sensibilities.</p> - -<p>But to return to our lamb. An unauthoritative -young woman, we suppose, -is one who is not authoritative, who has -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -not authority. But what confers authority? -Assumption of it? Very rarely -anything else—even in the case of a college -professor. We have in our blessed -democracy no Academy, no Sanhedrim, -no keeper of the seal of authority—and -while we have not we keep life, strength, -freedom in our veins. The young -woman “who makes dictionaries at so -much a mile” may be—sometimes is—as -fitted for authority and the exercise -of it as her brother. Academic as well -as popular prejudices, both springing -mainly from the masculine mind, make -him a college professor, and her a -nameless drudge exercising the qualities -women have gained from centuries -of women’s life—sympathetic service -with belittling recognition of their -work, self-sacrifice, and infinite care -and patience for detail.</p> - -<p>Too many of our day, both of men -and women, still believe with old John -Knox—to glance back even beyond Johnson -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> -and Pope—and his sixteenth century -“First Blast of the Trumpet -against the Monstrous Regiment of -Women”—a fine example of hysterical -shrieking in men, by the way. With the -loving estimate of Knox’s contemporary, -Mr. John Davidson, we heartily -agree when he sings—</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“For weill I wait that Scotland never bure,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In Scottis leid ane man mair Eloquent,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Into perswading also I am sure,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Was nane in Europe that was mair potent.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In Greik and Hebrew he was excellent,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And als in Latine toung his propernes,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Was tryit trym quhen scollers wer present.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Bot thir wer nathing till his uprichtnes.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We admire Knox’s magnificent moral -courage and the fruits of that courage -which the Scots have long enjoyed, and -yet anent the “cursed Jesabel of England,” -the “cruell monstre Marie,” -Knox cries: “To promote a Woman to -beare rule, superiorite, dominion, or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span> -empire ... is repugnant to Nature, -contumelie to God, a thing most contrarious -to his revealed will and approved -ordinance”—just as if he, John Knox, -knew all about God’s will and Nature’s -designs. What pretence, John! But -John took it upon himself to say he did. -He <i>assumed</i>; and time and events have -proved that it was sheer assumption on -John’s part. I doubt, were he now here, -if he would let a modest, bread-earning -woman even make dictionaries at so -much a mile—nothing beyond type-writing, -surely. He would probably -assume authority and shriek hysterically -that anything beyond the finger-play of -type-writing is repugnant to Nature and -contrarious to God.</p> - -<p>There was a Mrs. John Knox; there -were two in fact—ribs.</p> - -<p>“That servent faithfull servand of -the Lord” took the first slip of a girl -when near his fiftieth year, long after he -had left the celibate priesthood; and the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -second, a lass of sixteen, when he was -fifty-nine. They took care of John, a -mother-in-law helping, and with service -and money gave him leisure to write. -The opinions of the dames do not appear -in their husband’s hysteria. “I use the -help of my left hand,” dictated Knox -when one of these girl-wives was writing -for him a letter.</p> - -<p>With the young women we are considering -there is this eternal variation -from John Knox and his hysterical kin, -Celt, Saxon, or Latin—she does not -assume authority. Consequently she -makes dictionaries at so much a mile. -Such word-spinning was at one time -done by drudge men—men who had -failed mayhap in the church, or in law, -or had distaste for material developments -or shame for manual work. Now, -with women fortified by the learning -their colleges afford, it is oftenest done -by drudge women. The law of commerce -prevails—women gain the task -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -because they will take much less a mile -than men. Men offer them less than -they would dare offer a man similarly -equipped.</p> - -<p>But why should our brothers who -teach sophomores at so much a year -fleer? even if the woman has got the -job! Does not this arrangement afford -opportunity for a man to affix his name -to her work? In unnumbered—and concealed—instances. -We all remember -how in the making of the —— dictionary -the unauthoritative woman did the work, -and the unauthoritative man wrote the -introduction, and the authoritative man -affixed his name to it. We all remember -that, surely. Then there is the — — —; -and the — —. We do not fear to mention -names, we merely pity and do not—and -we nurse pity because with Aristotle -we believe that it purifies the heart. -With small knowledge of the publishing -world, I can count five such make-ups as -I here indicate. In one case an authoritative -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -woman did her part of the work -under the explicit agreement that her -name should be upon the title-page. In -the end, by a trick, in order to advertise -the man’s, it appeared only in the first -edition. Yet this injustice in nowise deprived -her of a heart of oak.</p> - -<p>The commercial book-building world, -as it at present stands—the place where -they write dictionaries and world’s literatures -at so much a mile—is apt to -think a woman is out in its turmoil for -her health, or for sheer amusement; not -for the practical reasons men are. An -eminent opinion declared the other day -that they were there “to get a trousseau -or get somebody to get it for ’em.” Another -exalted judgment asserted, “The -first thing they look round the office and -see who there is to marry.”</p> - -<p>This same world exploits her labor; -it pays her a small fraction of what it -pays a man engaged in the identical -work; it seizes, appropriates, and sometimes -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -grows rich upon her ideas. It -never thinks of advancing her to large -duties because of her efficiency in small. -She is “only a woman,” and with -Ibsen’s great Pillar of Society the business -world thinks she should be “content -to occupy a modest and becoming -position.” The capacities of women -being varied, would not large positions -rightly appear modest and becoming to -large capacities?</p> - -<p>For so many centuries men have estimated -a woman’s service of no money -value that it is hard, at the opening of -the twentieth, to believe it equal to even -a small part of a man’s who is doing the -same work. In one late instance a -woman at the identical task of editing -was paid less than one-fortieth the sum -given her colaborer, a man, whose products -were at times submitted to her for -revision and correction. In such cases -the men are virtually devouring the -women—not quite so openly, yet as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -truly, as the Tierra del Fuegians of -whom Darwin tells: when pressed in -winter by hunger they choke their -women with smoke and eat them. In -our instance just cited the feeding -upon was less patent, but the choking -with smoke equally unconcealed.</p> - -<p>The very work of these so-called unauthoritative -women passes in the eyes -of the world uninstructed in the present -artfulness of book-making as the work -of so-called authoritative men. It is -therefore authoritative.</p> - -<p>Not in this way did the king-critic get -together his dictionary. Johnson’s work -evidences his hand on every page and -almost in every paragraph. But things -are changed from the good old times of -individual action. We now have literary -trusts and literary monopolies. Nowadays -the duties of an editor-in-chief -may be to oversee each day’s labor, to -keep a sharp eye upon the “authoritative” -men and “unauthoritative” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -women whose work he bargained for at -so much a mile, and, when they finish the -task, to indite his name as chief worker.</p> - -<p>Would it be reasonable to suppose -that—suffering such school-child discipline -and effacement—those twentieth -century writers nourished the estimate -of “booksellers” with which Michael -Drayton in the seventeenth century -enlivened a letter to Drummond of -Hawthornden?—“They are a company -of base knives whom I both scorn and -kick at.”</p> - -<p>It is under such conditions as that just -cited that we hear a book spoken of as -if it were a piece of iron, not a product -of thought and feeling carefully proportioned -and measured; as if it were the -fruit of a day and not of prolonged -thought and application; as if it could -be easily reproduced by the application -of a mechanical screw; as if it were a -bar of lead instead of far-reaching wings -to minister good; as if it were a thing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -to step upon rather than a thing to reach -to; as if it could be cut, slashed, twisted, -distorted, instead of its really forming -an organic whole with the Aristotelian -breath of unity, and the cutting or hampering -of it would be performing a surgical -operation which might entirely let -out its breath of life.</p> - -<p>Until honor is stronger among human -beings—that is, until the business world -is something other than a maelstrom of -hell—it is unmanly and unwomanly to -gibe at the “unauthoritative” young -woman writing at so much a mile. She -may be bearing heavy burdens of debt -incurred by another. She may be supporting -a decrepit father or an idle -brother. She is bread-earning. Oftenest -she is gentle, and, like the strapped -dog which licks the hand that lays bare -his brain, she does not strike back. But -she has an inherent sense of honesty and -dishonesty, and she knows what justice -is. Her knowledge of life, the residuum -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -of her unauthoritative literary experience, -shows her the rare insight and -truth of Mr. Howells when he wrote, -“There is <i>no</i> happy life for a woman—except -as she is happy in suffering for -those she loves, and in sacrificing herself -to their pleasure, their pride, and -ambition. The advantage that the world -offers her—and it does not always offer -her that—is her choice in self-sacrifice.”</p> - -<p>Ten to one—a hundred to one—the -young woman is “unauthoritative” because -she is not peremptory, is not dictatorial, -assumes no airs of authority -such as swelling chest and overbearing -manners, is sympathetic with another’s -egotism, is altruistic, is not egotistical -with the egotism that is unwilling to cast -forth its work for the instructing and -furthering of human kind unless it is -accompanied by the writer’s name—a -“signed article.” She is not selfish and -guarding the ego. Individual fame -seems to her view an ephemeral thing, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span> -but the aggregate good of mankind for -which she works, eternal.</p> - -<p>The beaux of that century of Dr. Johnson’s -were great in spite of their sneers -and taunts at the Clarindas and Euphelias -and Fidelias, not on account of them. -We have no publication which is to our -time as the “Rambler” was to London -in 1753, or the “Spectator,” “Tatler,” -and “Englishman” to Queen Anne’s -earlier day. But in what we have let us -not deface any page with misogynous -phrase and sentence—jeers or expression -of evil against one-half of humanity. -Unsympathetic words about women who -by some individual fortune have become -literary drudges fit ill American lips—which -should sing the nobility of any -work that truly helps our kind. These -women go about in wind and rain; they -sit in the foul air of offices; they overcome -repugnance to coarse and familiar -address; they sometimes stint their -food; they are at all times practising a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -close economy; with aching flesh and -nerves they often draw their Saturday -evening stipend. They are of the sanest -and most human of our kind—laborers -daily for their meed of wage, knowing -the sweetness of bread well earned, of -work well done, and rest well won.</p> - -<p>Even from the diseased view of a veritable -hater of their sex they have a vast -educational influence in the world at -large, whether their work is “authoritative” -or “unauthoritative,” according -to pronunciamento of some one who assumes -authority to call them “unauthoritative.” -It must not be forgotten—to -repeat for clearness’ sake—that men -laboring in these very duties met and -disputed every step the women took -even in “unauthoritative” work, using -ridicule, caste distinction, and all the -means of intimidation which a power -long dominant naturally possesses. To -work for lower wages alone allowed the -women to gain employment. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span></p> - -<p>“You harshly blame my strengthlessness -and the woman-delicacy of my -body,” exclaims the Antigone of Euripides, -according to another citation of the -“Florilegium,” of Stobæus named at -the beginning, “but if I am of understanding -mind—that is better than a -strong arm.”</p> - -<p>Defendants whose case would otherwise -go by default need this brief plea, -which their own modesty forbids their -uttering, their modesty, their busy hands -and heads, and their Antigone-like love -and ἀσθένεια. They know sympathy is -really as large as the world, and that -room is here for other women than -those who make dictionaries at so much -a mile as well as for themselves; and -for other men than neurotic caterwaulers -and hysterical shriekers like our ancient -friend Knox, assuming that the -masculine is the only form of expression, -that women have no right to utter -the human voice, and that certain men -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -have up wire connections with omniscient -knowledge and Nature’s designs -and God’s will, and, standing -on this pretence, are the dispensers of -authority.</p> - -<p>“If the greatest poems have not been -written by women,” said our Edgar Poe, -with a clearer accent of the American -spirit toward women, “it is because, as -yet, the greatest poems have not been -written at all.” The measure is large -between the purple-faced zeal of John -Knox and the vivid atavism of our -brilliant professor and that luminous -vision of Poe. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>“THE GULLET SCIENCE”<br /> - -<span class="medium">A LOOK BACK AND AN -ECONOMIC FORECAST</span></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span><br /> -Cookery is become an art, a noble science; cooks -are gentlemen.<br /> - -<span class="author smcap">Robert Burton</span></p> - -<p><i>Sir Anthony Absolute.</i>—It is not to be wondered -at, ma’am—all this is the natural consequence of -teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, -by Heaven! I’d as soon have them taught the black -art as their alphabet!<br /> - -<span class="author smcap">Richard Brinsley Sheridan</span></p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span></p> - -<h2 id="THE_GULLET_SCIENCE">“THE GULLET SCIENCE”<br /> - -<span class="medium">A LOOK BACK AND AN ECONOMIC -FORECAST</span></h2> - -<p>The cook-book is not a modern product. -The Iliad is the hungriest book on -earth, and it is the first of our cook-books -aside from half-sacred, half-sanitary -directions to the early Aryans and -Jews. It is that acme of poetry, that -most picturesque of pictures, that most -historical of histories, that most musical -and delicious verse, the Iliad, which was -the first popularly to teach the cooking -art—the art in its simplicity, and not a -mere handmaid to sanitation, jurisprudence, -or theology. Through the pages -of that great poem blow not only the -salt winds of the Ægean Sea, but also -the savor of tender kid and succulent -pig, not to mention whole hectacombs, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span> -which delighted the blessed gods above -and strengthened hungry heroes below. -To this very day—its realism is so perfect—we -catch the scent of the cooking -and see the appetiteful people eat. The -book is half-human, half-divine; and in -its human part the pleasures and the -economic values of wholesome fare are -not left out.</p> - -<p>No, cook-books are not modern products. -They were in Greece later than -Homer. When the Greek states came to -the fore in their wonderful art and literature -and the distinction of a free -democracy, plain living characterized -nearly all the peoples. The Athenians -were noted for their simple diet. The -Spartans were temperate to a proverb, -and their συσσίτια (public meals), later -called φειδίτια (spare meals), guarded -against indulgence in eating. To be a -good cook was to be banished from -Sparta.</p> - -<p>But with the Western Greeks, the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span> -Greeks of Sicily and Southern Italy, it -was different—those people who left -behind them little record of the spirit. -In Sybaris the cook who distinguished -himself in preparing a public feast—such -festivals being not uncommon—received -a crown of gold and the freedom -of the games. It was a citizen of that -luxury-loving town who averred, when -he tasted the famous black soup, that it -was no longer a wonder the Spartans -were fearless in battle, for any one -would readily die rather than live on -such a diet. Among the later Greeks the -best cooks, and the best-paid cooks, came -from Sicily; and that little island grew -in fame for its gluttons.</p> - -<p>There is a Greek book—the Deipnosophistæ—Supper -of the “Wise Men—written -by Athenæus—which holds for -us much information about the food and -feasting of those old Hellenes. The wise -men at their supposed banquet quote, -touching food and cooking, from countless -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span> -Greek authors whose works are now -lost, but were still preserved in the time -of Athenæus. This, for instance, is from -a poem by Philoxenus of Cythera, who -wittily and gluttonously lived at the -court of Dionysius of Syracuse, and -wished for a throat three cubits long -that the delight of tasting might be -drawn out.<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">3</a></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“And then two slaves brought in a well-rubb’d table.<br /></span> -<span class="i19">.... Then came a platter<br /></span> -<span class="i5">.... with dainty sword-fish fraught,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And then fat cuttle-fish, and the savoury tribes<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Of the long hairy polypus. After this<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Another orb appear’d upon the table,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Rival of that just brought from off the fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Fragrant with spicy odour. And on that<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Again were famous cuttle-fish, and those<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Fair maids the honey’d squills, and dainty cakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Sweet to the palate, and large buns of wheat,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Large as a partridge, sweet and round, which you<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span> -<span class="i1">Do know the taste of well. And if you ask<br /></span> -<span class="i1">What more was there, I’d speak of luscious chine,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And loin of pork, and head of boar, all hot;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Cutlets of kid, and well-boil’d pettitoes,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And ribs of beef, and heads, and snouts and tails,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Then kid again, and lamb, and hares, and poultry,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Partridges and the bird from Phasis’ stream.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And golden honey, and clotted cream was there,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And cheese which I did join with all in calling<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Most tender fare.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The Greeks used many of the meats -and vegetables we enjoy; and others we -disclaim; for instance, cranes. Even -mushrooms were known to their cooks, -and Athenæus suggests how the wholesome -may be distinguished from the -poisonous, and what antidotes serve best -in case the bad are eaten. But with -further directions of his our tastes -would not agree. He recommends seasoning -the mushrooms with vinegar, or -honey and vinegar, or honey, or salt—for -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span> -by these means their choking -properties are taken away.</p> - -<p>The writings of Athenæus have, however, -a certain literary and, for his time -as well as our own, an historic and archæologic -flavor. The only ancient cook-book -pure and simple—bent on instruction -in the excellent art—which has come -down to us is that of Apicius, in ten -short books, or chapters. And which -Apicius? Probably the second of the -name, the one who lectured on cooking -in Rome during the reign of Augustus. -He gave some very simple directions -which hold good to the present day; for -instance—</p> - -<p><small>“UT CARNEM SALSAM DULCEM FACIAS</small></p> - -<p>“Carnem salsam dulcem facies, si -prius in lacte coquas, et postea in aqua.”</p> - -<p>But again his compounds are nauseating -even in print. He was famous -for many dishes, and Pliny, in his Natural -History, says he discovered the way -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -of increasing the size of the liver of the -pig—just as the liver of the Strasbourg -geese is enlarged for pâté de foie gras, -and as our own Southern people used -to induce pathological conditions in their -turkeys.</p> - -<p>The method of Apicius was to cram -the pig with dried figs, and, when it was -fat enough, drench it with wine mixed -with honey. “There is,” continues -Pliny, “no other animal that affords so -great a variety to the palate; all others -have their taste, but the pig fifty different -flavors. From this tastiness of the -meat it came about that the censors -made whole pages of regulations about -serving at banquets the belly and the -jowls and other dainty parts. But in -spite of their rules the poet Publius, -author of the Mimes, when he ceased to -be a slave, is said never to have given -an entertainment without a dish of pig’s -belly which he called ‘sumen.’”</p> - -<p>“Cook Apicius showed a remarkable -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -ingenuity in developing luxury,” the -old Roman says at another time, “and -thought it a most excellent plan to let -a mullet die in the pickle known as -‘garum.’” It was ingenuity of cruelty -as well as of luxury. “They killed the -fish in sauces and pickled them alive at -the banquet,” says Seneca, “feeding the -eye before the gullet, for they took pleasure -in seeing their mullets change several -colors while dying.” The unthinkable -garum was made, according to -Pliny, from the intestines of fish macerated -with salt, and other ingredients -were added before the mixture was set -in the sun to putrefy and came to the -right point for serving. It also had -popularity as a household remedy for -dog-bites, etc.; and in burns, when care -was necessary in its application not to -mention it by name—so delicately timid -was its healing spirit. Its use as a dish -was widespread, and perhaps we see in -the well-known hankerings of the royal -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -George of England a reversion to the -palate of Italian ancestors.</p> - -<p>But garum was only one of strange -dishes. The Romans seasoned much -with rue and asafetida!—a taste kept to -this day in India, where “Kim” eats -“good curry cakes all warm and well-scented -with hing (asafetida).” Cabbages -they highly estimated; “of all -garden vegetables they thought them -best,” says Pliny. The same author -notes that Apicius rejected Brussels -sprouts, and in this was followed by -Drusus Cæsar, who was censured for -over-nicety by his father, the Emperor -Tiberius of Capreæ villas fame.</p> - -<p>Upon cooks and the Roman estimate -of their value in his day Pliny also casts -light. “Asinius Celer, a man of consular -rank and noted for his expenditure -on mullet, bought one at Rome during -the reign of Gaius Caligula for eight -thousand sesterces. Reflection on this -fact,” continues Pliny, “will recall the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span> -complaints uttered against luxury and -the lament that a single cook costs more -than a horse. At the present day a cook -is only to be had for the price of a -triumph, and a mullet only to be had for -what was once the price of a cook! Of -a fact there is now hardly any living -being held in higher esteem than the man -who knows how to get rid of his master’s -belongings in the most scientific -fashion!”</p> - -<p>Much has been written of the luxury -and enervation of Romans after the republic, -how they feasted scented with -perfumes, reclining and listening to -music, “nudis puellis ministrantibus.” -The story is old of how Vedius Pollio -“hung with ecstasy over lampreys fattened -on human flesh;” how Tiberius -spent two days and two nights in one -bout; how Claudius dissolved pearls for -his food; how Vitellius delighted in the -brains of pheasants and tongues of -nightingales and the roe of fish difficult -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -to take; how the favorite supper of -Heliogabalus was the brains of six hundred -thrushes. At the time these gluttonies -went on in the houses of government -officials, the mass of the people, the -great workers who supported the great -idlers, fed healthfully on a mess of pottage. -The many to support the super-abundant -luxury of a few is still one of -the mysteries of the people.</p> - -<p>But in the old Rome the law of right -and honest strength at last prevailed, -and monsters gave way to the cleaner -and hardier chiefs of the north. The -mastery of the world necessarily passed -to others;—it has never lain with slaves -of the stomach.</p> - -<p>The early folk of Britain—those Cæesar -found in the land from which we -sprang—ate the milk and flesh of their -flocks. They made bread by picking the -grains from the ear and pounding them -to paste in a mortar. Their Roman conquerors -doubtless brought to their midst -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -a more elaborated table order. Barbarous -Saxons, fighters and freebooters, -next settling on the rich island and restraining -themselves little for sowing -and reaping, must in their incursions -have been flesh-eaters, expeditiously -roasting and broiling directly over coals -like our early pioneers.</p> - -<p>This mode of living also would seem -true of the later-coming Danes, who -after their settlement introduced, says -Holinshed, another habit. “The Danes,” -says that delightful chronicler, “had -their dwelling ... among the Englishmen, -whereby came great harme; for -whereas the Danes by nature were great -drinkers, the Englishmen by continuall -conversation with them learned the same -vice. King Edgar, to reforme in part -such excessive quaffing as then began to -grow in use, caused by the procurement -of Dunstane [the then Archbishop of -Canterbury] nailes to be set in cups of -a certeine measure, marked for the purpose, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span> -that none should drinke more than -was assigned by such measured cups. -Englishmen also learned of the Saxons, -Flemings, and other strangers, their -peculiar kinds of vices, as of the Saxons -a disordered fierceness of mind, -of the Flemings a feeble tendernesse -of bodie; where before they rejoiced -in their owne simplicitie and esteemed -not the lewd and unprofitable manners -of strangers.”</p> - -<p>But refinement was growing in the -mixture of races which was to make modern -Englishmen, and in the time of Hardicanute, -much given to the pleasures -of the table and at last dying from too -copious a draught of wine,—“he fell -downe suddenlie,” says Holinshed, -“with the pot in his hand”—there was -aim at niceness and variety and hospitable -cheer.</p> - -<p>The Black Book of a royal household -which Warner quotes in his “Antiquitates -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span> -Culinariæ”<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">4</a> is evidence of -this:</p> - -<p>“Domus Eegis Hardeknoute may be -called a fader noreshoure of familiaritie, -which used for his own table, never to -be served with ony like metes of one -meale in another, and that chaunge and -diversitie was dayly in greate habundance, -and that same after to be ministred -to his alms-dishe, he caused -cunyng cooks in curiositie; also, he was -the furst that began four meales stablyshed -in oon day, opynly to be holden -for worshuppfull and honest peopull resorting -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span> -to his courte; and no more melis, -nor brekefast, nor chambyr, but for his -children in householde; for which four -melys he ordeyned four marshalls, to -kepe the honor of his halle in recevyng -and dyrecting strangers, as well as of -his householdemen in theyre fitting, and -for services and ther precepts to be -obeyd in. And for the halle, with all -diligence of officers thereto assigned -from his furst inception, tyll the day of -his dethe, his house stode after one unyformitie.”</p> - -<p>Of Hardicanute, “it hath,” says -Holinshed, “beene commonlie told, that -Englishmen learned of him their excessive -gourmandizing and unmeasurable -filling of their panches with meates and -drinkes, whereby they forgat the vertuous -use of sobrietie, so much necessarie -to all estates and degrees, so profitable -for all commonwealthes, and so -commendable both in the sight of God, -and all good men.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span></p> - -<p>Not only to the Danes, but also to the -later conquerors, the Normans, the old -chronicler attributes corruption of early -English frugality and simplicity. “The -Normans, misliking the gormandise of -Canutus, ordeined after their arrivall -that no table should be covered above -once in the day.... But in the end, -either waxing wearie of their owne frugalitie -or suffering the cockle of old -custome to overgrow the good corne of -their new constitution, they fell to such -libertie that in often feeding they surmounted -Canutus surnamed the hardie.... -They brought in also the custome -of long and statelie sitting at meat.”</p> - -<p>A fellow-Londoner with Holinshed, -John Stow, says of the reign of William -Rufus, the second Norman king of England, -“The courtiers devoured the substance -of the husbandmen, their tenants.”</p> - -<p>And Stow’s “Annales” still further -tell of a banquet served in far-off Italy -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -to the duke of Clarence, son of Edward -III., when, some three hundred years -after the Norman settlement, the lad -Leonell went to marry Violentis, daughter -of the duke of Milan. It should not -be forgotten that in the reign of Edward -II. of England, grandfather of the duke, -proclamation had been issued against -the “outrageous and excessive multitude -of meats and dishes” served by the -nobles in their castles, as well by “persons -of inferior rank imitating their example, -beyond what their station required -and their circumstances could -afford.”</p> - -<p>“At the comming of Leonell”, says -Stow, “such aboundance of treasure -was in most bounteous maner spent, in -making most sumptuous feasts, setting -forth stately fightes, and honouring with -rare gifts above two hundred Englishmen, -which accompanied his [the duke -of Milan’s] son-in-law, as it seemed to -surpasse the greatnesse of most wealthy -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span> -Princes; for in the banquet whereat -Francis Petrarch was present, amongst -the chiefest guestes, there were above -thirtie courses of service at the table, -and betwixt every course, as many presents -of wonderous price intermixed, all -which John Galeasius, chiefe of the -choice youth, bringing to the table, did -offer to Leonell ... And such was the -sumptuousnesse of that banquet, that -the meats which were brought from the -table, would sufficiently have served ten -thousand men.”</p> - -<p>The first cook-book we have in our -ample English tongue is of date about -1390. Its forme, says the preface to the -table of contents, this “forme of cury -[cookery] was compiled of the chef -maistes cokes of kyng Richard the Secunde -kyng of nglond aftir the conquest; -the which was accounted the best and -ryallest vyand [nice eater] of alle csten -ynges [Christian kings]; and it was -compiled by assent and avysement of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span> -maisters and [of] phisik and of philosophie -that dwellid in his court. First it -techith a man for to make commune -pottages and commune meetis for howshold, -as they shold be made, craftly and -holsomly. Aftirward it techith for to -make curious potages, and meetes, and -sotiltees, for alle maner of states, bothe -hye and lowe. And the techyng of the -forme of making of potages, and of -meetes, bothe of flesh, and of fissh, buth -[are] y sette here by noumbre and by -ordre. Sso this little table here fewyng -[following] wole teche a man with oute -taryyng, to fynde what meete that hym -lust for to have.”</p> - -<p>The “potages” and “meetis” and -“sotiltees” it techith a man for to make -would be hardly more endurable to the -modern stomach than some old Greek -and Roman seasonings we have referred -to. There is no essential difference -between these and the directions of a -rival cook-book written some forty or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span> -fifty years later and divided into three -parts—Kalendare de Potages dyvers, -Kalendare de Leche Metys, Dyverse bake -metis. Or of another compiled about -1450. Let us see how they would make -a meat.</p> - -<p>“Stwed Beeff. Take faire Ribbes of -ffresh beef, And (if thou wilt) roste hit -til hit be nygh ynowe; then put hit in -a faire possenet; caste therto parcely -and oynons mynced, reysons of corauns, -powder peper, canel, clowes, saundres, -safferon, and salt; then caste thereto -wyn and a litull vynegre; sette a lyd -on the potte, and lete hit boile sokingly -on a faire charcole til hit be ynogh; then -lay the fflessh, in disshes, and the sirippe -thereuppon, And serve it forth.”</p> - -<p>And for sweet apple fritters:</p> - -<p>“Freetours. Take yolkes of egges, -drawe hem thorgh a streynour, caste -thereto faire floure, berme and ale; -stere it togidre till hit be thik. Take -pared appelles, cut hem thyn like obleies -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -[wafers of the eucharist], ley hem in the -batur; then put hem into a ffrying pan, -and fry hem in faire grece or buttur til -thei ben browne yelowe; then put hem -in disshes; and strawe Sugur on hem -ynogh, And serve hem forthe.”</p> - -<p>Still other cook-books followed—the -men of that day served hem forthe—among -which we notice “A noble Boke -off Cookry ffor a prynce houssolde or -eny other estately houssolde,” ascribed -to about the year 1465.</p> - -<p>To the monasteries the art of cooking -is doubtless much indebted, just as even -at the present day is the art of making -liqueurs. Their vast wealth, the leisure -of the in-dwellers, and the gross sensualism -and materialism of the time they -were at their height would naturally lead -to care for the table and its viands. -Within their thick stone walls, which -the religious devotion of the populace -had reared, the master of the kitchen, -magister coquinæ or magnus coquus, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span> -was not the man of least importance. -Some old author whose name and book -do not come promptly to memory refers -to the disinclination of plump capons, -or round-breasted duck, to meet ecclesiastical -eyes—a facetiousness repeated -in our day when the Uncle Remuses -of Dixie say they see yellow-legged -chickens run and hide if a preacher -drives up to supper.</p> - -<p>Moreover, the monasteries were the -inns of that day where travellers put -up, and in many instances were served -free—no price, that is, was put upon -their entertainment, the abbot, or the -establishment, receiving whatever gift -the one sheltered and fed felt able or -moved to pay.</p> - -<p>Contemporary accounts of, or references -to, the cooking and feasting in -religious houses are many—those of the -Vision of Long Will concerning Piers -the Plowman, those of “Dan Chaucer, -the first warbler,” of Alexander Barclay, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -and Skelton, great satirist of times -of Henry VIII., and of other authors -not so well remembered. Now and then -a racy anecdote has come down like that -which Thomas Fuller saves from lip tradition -in his “History of Abbeys in -England.” It happened, says Worthy -Fuller, that Harry VIII., “hunting in -Windsor Forest, either casually lost, or -(more probable) wilfully losing himself, -struck down about dinner-time to the -abbey of Reading; where, disguising -himself (much for delight, more for discovery, -to see unseen), he was invited -to the abbot’s table, and passed for one -of the king’s guard, a place to which the -proportion of his person might properly -entitle him. A sirloin of beef was set -before him (so knighted saith tradition, -by this King Henry), on which the king -laid on lustily, not disgracing one of that -place for whom he was mistaken.</p> - -<p>“‘Well fare thy heart!’ quoth the -abbot; ‘and here in a cup of sack I remember -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -the health of his grace your -master. I would give an hundred -pounds on the condition I could feed so -heartily on beef as you do. Alas! my -weak and squeazy stomach will badly -digest the wing of a small rabbit or -chicken.’</p> - -<p>“The king pleasantly pledged him, -and, heartily thanking him for his good -cheer, after dinner departed as undiscovered -as he came thither.</p> - -<p>“Some weeks after, the abbot was sent -for by a pursuivant, brought up to London, -clapped in the Tower, kept close -prisoner, fed for a short time with bread -and water; yet not so empty his body of -food, as his mind was filled with fears, -creating many suspicions to himself -when and how he had incurred the -king’s displeasure. At last a sirloin of -beef was set before him, on which the -abbot fed as the farmer of his grange, -and verified the proverb, that ‘Two -hungry meals make the third a glutton.’ -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span></p> - -<p>“In springs King Henry out of a private -lobby, where he had placed himself, -the invisible spectator of the abbot’s -behavior. ‘My lord,’ quoth the king, -‘presently deposit your hundred pounds -in gold, or else no going hence all the -days of your life. I have been your -physician to cure you of your squeazy -stomach; and here, as I deserve, I demand -my fee for the same!’</p> - -<p>“The abbot down with his dust; and, -glad he had escaped so, returned to -Reading, as somewhat lighter in purse, -so much more merrier in heart than -when he came thence.”</p> - -<p>The “squeazy” abbot stood alone in -proclamation of his disorder. Archbishop -Cranmer, according to John -Leland, king’s antiquary to Henry -VIII., found it necessary in 1541 to regulate -the expenses of the tables of bishops -and clergy by a constitution—an instrument -which throws much light on the -then conditions, and which ran as follows: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span></p> - -<p>“In the yeare of our Lord MDXLI -it was agreed and condescended upon, -as wel by the common consent of both -tharchbishops and most part of the -bishops within this realme of Englande, -as also of divers grave men at that tyme, -both deanes and archdeacons, the fare -at their tables to be thus moderated.</p> - -<p>“First, that tharchbishop should -never exceede six divers kindes of fleshe, -or six of fishe, on the fishe days; the -bishop not to exceede five, the deane and -archdeacon not above four, and al other -under that degree not above three; provided -also that tharchbishop myght have -of second dishes four, the bishop three, -and al others under the degree of a -bishop but two. As custard, tart, fritter, -cheese or apples, peares, or two of other -kindes of fruites. Provided also, that if -any of the inferior degree dyd receave -at their table, any archbishop, bishop, -deane, or archdeacon, or any of the -laitie of lyke degree, viz. duke, marques, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span> -earle, viscount, baron, lorde, knyght, -they myght have such provision as were -mete and requisite for their degrees. -Provided alway that no rate was limited -in the receavying of any ambassadour. -It was also provided that of the greater -fyshes or fowles, there should be but one -in a dishe, as crane, swan, turkey cocke, -hadocke, pyke, tench; and of lesse sortes -but two, viz. capons two, pheasantes -two, conies two, and woodcockes two. -Of lesse sortes, as of patriches, the archbishop -three, the bishop and other degrees -under hym two. Of blackburdes, -the archbishop six, the bishop four, the -other degrees three. Of larkes and -snytes (snipes) and of that sort but -twelve. It was also provided, that whatsoever -is spared by the cutting of, of the -olde superfluitie, shoulde yet be provided -and spent in playne meates for the -relievyng of the poore. <i>Memorandum</i>, -that this order was kept for two or three -monethes, tyll by the disusyng of certaine -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -wylful persons it came to the olde -excesse.”</p> - -<p>Still one more tale bearing upon a -member of the clergy who would set out -more “blackburdes” than “tharchbishop” -is told by Holinshed. It has -within it somewhat of the flavor of the -odium theologicum, but an added interest -also, since it turns upon a dish esteemed -in Italy since the time of the imperial -Romans—peacock, often served even -nowadays encased in its most wonderful -plumage. The Pope Julius III., whose -luxurious entertainment and comport -shocked the proprieties even of that day, -and who died in Rome while the chronicler -was busy in London, is the chief -actor.</p> - -<p>“At an other time,” writes Holinshed, -“he sitting at dinner, pointing to a peacocke -upon his table, which he had not -touched; Keepe (said he) this cold peacocke -for me against supper, and let me -sup in the garden, for I shall have -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -ghests. So when supper came, and -amongst other hot peacockes, he saw not -his cold peacocke brought to his table; -the pope after his wonted manner, most -horriblie blaspheming God, fell into an -extreame rage, &c. Whereupon one of -his cardinals sitting by, desired him -saieng: Let not your holinesse, I praie -you, be so mooved with a matter of so -small weight. Then this Julius the pope -answeringe againe: What (saith he) if -God was so angrie for one apple, that he -cast our first parents out of paradise -for the same, whie maie not I being his -vicar, be angrie then for a peacocke, -sithens a peacocke is a greater matter -than an apple.”</p> - -<p>In England at this time controlling -the laity were sumptuary laws, habits of -living resulting from those laws, and -great inequalities in the distribution of -wealth. On these points Holinshed -again brings us light:</p> - -<p>“In number of dishes and change of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span> -meat,” he writes, “the nobilitie of England -(whose cookes are for the most -part musicall-headed Frenchmen and -strangers) do most exceed, sith there is -no daie in maner that passeth over their -heads, wherein they have not onelie -beefe, mutton, veale, lambe, kid, porke, -conie, capon, pig, or so manie of these -as the season yeeldeth; but also some -portion of the red or fallow deere, beside -great varietie of fish and wild foule, -and thereto sundrie other delicates -wherein the sweet hand of the seasoning -Portingale is not wanting; so that for a -man to dine with one of them, and to -taste of everie dish that standeth before -him ... is rather to yeeld unto a conspiracie -with a great deale of meat for -the speedie suppression of naturall -health, then the use of a necessarie -meane to satisfie himselfe with a competent -repast, to susteine his bodie withall. -But as this large feeding is not seene -in their gests, no more is it in their owne -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span> -persons, for sith they have dailie much -resort unto their tables ... and thereto -reteine great numbers of servants, it is -verie requisit and expedient for them to -be somewhat plentifull in this behalfe.</p> - -<p>“The chiefe part likewise of their -dailie provision is brought before them -... and placed on their tables, whereof -when they have taken what it pleaseth -them, the rest is reserved and afterwards -sent downe to their serving men -and waiters, who feed thereon in like -sort with convenient moderation, their -reversion also being bestowed upon the -poore, which lie readie at their gates in -great numbers to receive the same.</p> - -<p>“The gentlemen and merchants keepe -much about one rate, and each of them -contenteth himselfe with foure, five or -six dishes, when they have but small resort, -or peradventure with one, or two, -or three at the most, when they have no -strangers to accompanie them at their -tables. And yet their servants have -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span> -their ordinarie diet assigned, beside -such as is left at their masters’ boordes, -and not appointed to be brought thither -the second time, which neverthelesse is -often seene generallie in venison, lambe, -or some especiall dish, whereon the merchant -man himselfe liketh to feed when -it is cold.”</p> - -<p>“At such times as the merchants doo -make their ordinarie or voluntarie -feasts, it is a world to see what great -provision is made of all maner of delicat -meats, from everie quarter of the -countrie.... They will seldome regard -anie thing that the butcher usuallie killeth, -but reject the same as not worthie -to come in place. In such cases all -gelisses of all coleurs mixed with a -varitie in the representation of sundrie -floures, herbs, trees, formes of beasts, -fish, foules and fruits, and there unto -marchpaine wrought with no small curiositie, -tarts of diverse hewes and sundrie -denominations, conserves of old fruits -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -foren and homebred, suckets, codinacs, -marmilats, marchpaine, sugerbread, gingerbread, -florentines, wild foule, venison -of all sorts, and sundrie outlandish confections -altogither seasoned with sugar -... doo generalie beare the swaie, beside -infinit devises of our owne not possible -for me to remember. Of the potato and -such venerous roots as are brought out -of Spaine, Portingale, and the Indies to -furnish our bankets, I speake not.”</p> - -<p>“The artificer and husbandman make -greatest accompt of such meat as they -may soonest come by, and have it quickliest -readie.... Their food also consisteth -principallie in beefe and such -meat as the butcher selleth, that is to -saie, mutton, veale, lambe, porke, etc., -... beside souse, brawne, bacon, fruit, -pies of fruit, foules of sundrie sorts, -cheese, butter, eggs, etc.... To conclude, -both the artificer and the husbandman -are sufficientlie liberall and -verie friendlie at their tables, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span> -when they meet they are so merie -without malice and plaine, without inward -Italian or French craft and subtiltie, -that it would doo a man good to -be in companie among them.</p> - -<p>“With us the nobilitie, gentrie and -students doo ordinarilie go to dinner at -eleven before noone, and to supper at -five, or betweene five and six at after-noone. -The merchants dine and sup seldome -before twelve at noone, and six at -night, especiallie in London. The husbandmen -dine also at high noone as they -call it, and sup at seven or eight.... -As for the poorest sort they generallie -dine and sup when they may, so that to -talke of their order of repast it were but -a needlesse matter.”</p> - -<p>“The bread through out the land,” -continues Holinshed, “is made of such -graine as the soil yeeldeth, neverthelesse -the gentilitie commonlie provide themselves -sufficientlie of wheat for their -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -owne tables, whilst their houshold and -poore neighbours in some shires are inforced -to content themselves with rie, or -baricie, yea and in time of dearth manie -with bread made either of beans, or peason, -or otes, or of altogether and some -acornes among.... There be much -more ground eared now almost in everie -place than hath beene of late yeares, yet -such a price of come continueth in each -towne and market without any just -cause (except it be that landlords doo -get licenses to carie come out of the land -onelie to keepe up the prices for their -owne private games and ruine of the -commonwealth), that the artificer and -poore laboring man is not able to reach -unto it, but is driven to content himselfe -with horsse corne—I mean beanes, peason, -otes, tarres, and lintels.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Books had been written for women -and their tasks within—the “Babees -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -Booke,” Tusser’s<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">5</a> “Hundrethe Good -Pointes of Huswifry,” “The Good -Husive’s Handmaid”—the last two in -the sixteenth century; these and others -of their kidney. A woman who thought, -spoke, and wrote in several tongues was -greatly filling the throne of England in -those later times.</p> - -<p>Cook- and receipt-books in the following -century, that is in the seventeenth, -continued to discover women, and to -realize moreover that to them division -of labor had delegated the household and -its businesses. There were “Jewels” -and “Closets of Delights” before we -find an odd little volume putting out in -1655 a second edition. It shows upon -its title-page the survival from earlier -conditions of the confusion of duties of -physician and cook—a fact made apparent -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> -in the preface copied in the foregoing -“forme of cury” of King Richard—and -perhaps intimates the housewife -should perform the services of both. It -makes, as well, a distinct appeal to -women as readers and users of books. -Again it evidences the growth of the -Commons. In full it introduces itself in -this wise:</p> - -<p>“The Ladies Cabinet enlarged and -opened: containing Many Rare Secrets -and Rich Ornaments, of several kindes, -and different uses. Comprized under -three general Heads, viz. of 1 Preserving, -Conserving, Candying, etc. 2 -Physick and Chirurgery. 3 Cooking -and Housewifery. Whereunto is added -Sundry Experiments and choice Extractions -of Waters, Oyls, etc. Collected -and practised by the late Right Honorable -and Learned Chymist, the Lord -Ruthuen.”</p> - -<p>The preface, after an inscription “To -the Industrious improvers of Nature by -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span> -Art; especially the vertuous Ladies and -Gentlewomen of the Land,” begins:</p> - -<p>“Courteous Ladies, etc. The first -Edition of this—(cal it what you please) -having received a kind entertainment -from your Ladiships hands, for reasons -best known to yourselves, notwithstanding -the disorderly and confused jumbling -together of things of different -kinds, hath made me (who am not a little -concerned therein) to bethink myself of -some way, how to encourage and requite -your Ladiships Pains and Patience (vertues, -indeed, of absolute necessity in -such brave employments; there being -nothing excellent that is not withal difficult) -in the profitable spending of your -vacant minutes.” This labored and -high-flying mode of address continues to -the preface’s end.... “I shall thus -leave you at liberty as Lovers in Gardens, -to follow your own fancies. Take -what you like, and delight in your -choice, and leave what you list to him, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -whose labour is not lost if anything -please.”</p> - -<p>In turning the leaves of the book -one comes upon such naïve discourse -as this:</p> - -<p>“To make the face white and fair.</p> - -<p>“Wash thy face with Rosemary boiled -in white wine, and thou shalt be fair; -then take Erigan and stamp it, and take -the juyce thereof, and put it all together -and wash thy face therewith. Proved.”</p> - -<p>It was undoubtedly the success of -“The Ladies Cabinet” and its cousins -german that led to the publication of a -fourth edition in 1658 of another compilation, -which, according to the preface, -was to go “like the good Samaritane -giving comfort to all it met.” The title -was “The Queens Closet opened: Incomparable -Secrets in Physick, Chyrurgery, -Preserving, Candying, and -Cookery, As they were presented unto -the Queen By the most Experienced -Persons of our times.... Transcribed -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span> -from the true Copies of her -Majesties own Receipt Books, by W. M. -one of her late Servants.” It is curious -to recall that this book was published -during the Cromwell Protectorate—1658 -is the year of the death of Oliver—and -that the queen alluded to in the title—whose -portrait, engraved by the elder -William Faithorne, forms the frontispiece—was -Henrietta Maria, widow of -Charles I., and at that time an exile in -France.</p> - -<p>During this century, which saw such -publications as Rose’s “School for the -Officers of the Mouth,” and “Nature Unembowelled,” -a woman, Hannah Wolley, -appears as author of “The Cook’s -Guide.” All such compilations have -enduring human value, but we actually -gain quite as much of this oldest of arts -from such records as those the indefatigable -Pepys left in his Diary. At that -time men of our race did not disdain a -knowledge of cookery. Izaak Walton, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span> -“an excellent angler, and now with -God,” dresses chub and trout in his -meadow-sweet pages. Even Thomas -Fuller, amid his solacing and delightful -“Worthies,” thinks of the housewife, -and gives a receipt for metheglin.</p> - -<p>And a hundred years later Dr. Johnson’s -friend, the Rev. Richard Warner, -in his “Personal Recollections,” did not -hesitate to expand upon what he thought -the origin of mince pies. Warner’s -Johnsonian weight in telling his fantasy -recalls Goldsmith’s quip about the Doctor’s -little fish talking like whales, and -also Johnson’s criticism upon his own -“too big words and too many of them.”</p> - -<p>Warner wrote, “In the early ages of -our country, when its present widely -spread internal trade and retail business -were yet in their infancy, and none of -the modern facilities were afforded to -the cook to supply herself ‘on the spur -of the moment,’ ... it was the practice -of all prudent housewives, to lay in, at -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span> -the conclusion of every year (from some -contiguous periodical fair), a stock sufficient -for the ensuing annual consumption, -of ... every sweet composition for -the table—such as raisins, currants, citrons, -and ‘spices of the best.’</p> - -<p>“The ample cupboard ... within the -wainscot of the dining parlour itself -... formed the safe depository of these -precious stores.</p> - -<p>“‘When merry Christmas-tide came -round’ ... the goodly litter of the cupboard, -thus various in kind and aspect, -was carefully swept into one common -receptacle; the mingled mass enveloped -in pastry and enclosed within the duly -heated oven, from whence ... perfect -in form, colour, odour, flavour and temperament, -it smoked, the glory of the -hospitable Christmas board, hailed from -every quarter by the honourable and imperishable -denomination of the Mince-Pye.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span></p> - -<p>In the eighteenth century women -themselves, following Hannah Wolley, -began cook-book compiling. So great -was their success that we find Mrs. Elizabeth -Moxon’s “English Housewifry” -going into its ninth edition in the London -market of 1764. All through history -there have been surprises coming to -prejudiced minds out of the despised -and Nazarene. It was so about this matter -of cook-books—small in itself, great -in its far-reaching results to the health -and development of the human race.</p> - -<p>Women had been taught the alphabet. -But the dogmatism of Dr. Johnson -voiced the judgment of many of our -forebears: a dominant power is always -hard in its estimate of the capacities it -controls. “Women can spin very well,” -said the great Cham, “but they can not -make a good book of cookery.” He was -talking to “the swan of Lichfield,” little -Anna Seward, when he said this, and -also to a London publisher. The book -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span> -they were speaking of had been put -forth by the now famous Mrs. Hannah -Glasse, said to be the wife of a London -attorney.</p> - -<p>The doctor—possibly with an eye to -business, a publisher being present—was -describing a volume he had in mind -to make, “a book upon philosophical -principles,” “a better book of cookery -than has ever yet been written.” -“Then,” wisely said the dogmatic doctor, -“as you can not make bad meat -good, I would tell what is the best -butcher’s meat, the best beef, the best -pieces; how to choose young fowls; the -proper seasons of different vegetables; -and then how to roast and boil and compound.” -This was the plan of a poet, -essayist, lexicographer, and the leading -man of letters of his day. His cook-book -was never written.</p> - -<p>But good Mrs. Glasse had also with -large spirit aimed at teaching the ignorant, -possibly those of a kind least often -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span> -thought of by instructors in her art. -She had, forsooth, caught her hare outside -her book, even if she never found -him in its page. “If I have not wrote in -the high polite style,” she says, with a -heart helpful toward the misunderstood -and oppressed, and possibly with the -pages of some pretentious chef in mind, -“I hope I shall be forgiven; for my intention -is to instruct the lower sort, and -therefore must treat them in their own -way. For example, when I bid them -lard a fowl, if I should bid them lard -with large lardoons, they would not -know what I meant; but when I say they -must lard with little pieces of bacon, -they know what I mean. So in many -other things in Cookery the great cooks -have such a high way of expressing -themselves, that the poor girls are at a -loss to know what they mean.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Glasse’s book was published in -1747—while Dr. Johnson had still thirty-seven -years in which to “boast of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -niceness of his palate,” and spill his -food upon his waistcoat. “Whenever,” -says Macaulay, “he was so fortunate as -to have near him a hare that had been -kept too long, or a meat pie made with -rancid butter, he gorged himself with -such violence that his veins swelled and -the moisture broke out on his forehead.” -But within forty-eight years of the December -his poor body was borne from -the house behind Fleet Street to its resting-place -in Westminster Abbey, a thin -volume, “The Frugal Housewife,” -written by our American Lydia Maria -Child, had passed to its ninth London -edition, in that day sales being more -often than in our own a testimony of -merit. This prevailing of justice over -prejudice is “too good for any but very -honest people,” as Izaak Walton said -of roast pike. Dogmatism is always -eating its own words.</p> - -<p>Since the master in literature, Dr. -Johnson, planned his cook-book many -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span> -cooking men have dipped ink in behalf -of instruction in their art. Such names -as Farley, Carême, and Soyer have been -written, if not in marble or bronze, at -least in sugar of the last caramel degree—unappreciated -excellencies mainly because -of the inattention of the public to -what nourishes it, and lack of the knowledge -that the one who introduces an -inexpensive, palatable, and digestible -dish benefits his fellow-men.</p> - -<p>The names of these club cooks and -royal cooks are not so often referred to -as that of the large and human-hearted -Mrs. Glasse. A key to their impulse -toward book-making must, however, -have been that offered by Master Farley, -chief cook at the London Tavern, -who wrote in 1791, a hundred and fourteen -years ago: “Cookery, like every -other Art, has been moving forward to -perfection by slow Degrees.... And -although there are so many Books of -this Kind already published, that one -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span> -would hardly think there could be Occasion -for another, yet we flatter ourselves, -that the Readers of this Work will find, -from a candid Perusal, and an impartial -Comparison, that our Pretensions to -the Favour of the Public are not ill-founded.”</p> - -<p>Such considerations as those of Master -Farley seem to lead to the present -great output. But nowadays our social -conditions and our intricate and involved -household arrangements demand -a specialization of duties. The average -old cook-book has become insufficient. -It has evolved into household-directing -as well as cook-directing books, comprehending -the whole subject of esoteric -economies. This is a curious enlargement; -and one cause, and result, of it is -that the men and women of our domestic -corps are better trained, better equipped -with a logical, systematized, scientific -knowledge, that they are in a degree -specialists—in a measure as the engineer -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> -of an ocean greyhound is a specialist, or -the professor of mathematics, or the -writer of novels is a specialist. And -specialists should have the dignity of -special treatment. In this movement, it -is to be hoped, is the wiping out of the -social stigma under which domestic -service has so long lain in our country, -and a beginning of the independence of -the domestic laborer—that he or she -shall possess himself or herself equally -with others—as other free-born people -possess themselves, that is.</p> - -<p>And closely allied with this specialization -another notable thing has come -about. Science with its microscope has -finally taught what religion with its -manifold precepts of humility and -humanity has failed for centuries to -accomplish, thus evidencing that true -science and true religion reach one and -the same end. There are no menial -duties, science clearly enunciates: the -so-called drudgery is often the most important -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span> -of work, especially when the -worker brings to his task a large knowledge -of its worth in preserving and -sweetening human life, and perfectness -as the sole and satisfactory aim. Only -the careless, thriftless workers, the inefficient -and possessed with no zeal for -perfection of execution, only these are -the menials according to the genuine -teachings of our day—and the ignorant, -unlifted worker’s work is menial (using -the word again in its modern English -and not its old Norman-French usage) -whatever his employment.</p> - -<p>In verse this was said long ago, as the -imagination is always forestalling practical -knowledge, and George Herbert, of -the seventeenth century, foreran our -science in his “Elixir:”</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“All may of thee partake:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nothing can be so mean,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which with this tincture <i>for thy sake</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will not grow bright and clean.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“A servant with this clause<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Makes drudgery divine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Makes that and th’ action fine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“This is the famous stone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That turneth all to gold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For that which God doth touch and own<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cannot for less be told.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Present-day, up-to-date books on -housekeeping stand for the fact that in -our households, whatever the estimates -of the past and of other social conditions, -all work is dignified—none is -menial. For besides intelligent knowledge -and execution, what in reality, they -ask, gives dignity to labor? Weight and -importance of that particular task to -our fellow-beings? What then shall we -say of the duties of cook? of housemaid? -of chambermaid? of the handy -man, or of the modest maid of all work? -For upon the efficient performance of -the supposedly humblest domestic servitor -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -depends each life of the family. -Such interdependence brings the employed -very close to the employer, and -no bond could knit the varied elements -of a household more closely, none should -knit it more humanly.</p> - -<p>The human, then, are the first of the -relations that exist between employer -and employee, that “God hath made of -one blood all nations of the earth.” It -is a truth not often enough in the minds -of the parties to a domestic-service compact. -And besides this gospel of Paul -are two catch-phrases, not so illuminated -but equally humane, which sprang from -the ameliorating spirit of the last century—“Put -yourself in his place,” and -“Everybody is as good as I.” These -form the best bed-rock for all relations -between master and servant. There is -need of emphasizing this point in our -books on affairs of the house, for a -majority of our notably rich are new to -riches and new to knowledge, and as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span> -employers have not learned the limitation -of every child of indulgence and -also polite manners in early life.</p> - -<p>It is after all a difference of environment -that makes the difference between -mistress and maid, between master and -man. The human being is as plastic as -clay—is clay in the hands of circumstance. -If his support of wife and children -depended upon obsequiousness of -bearing, the master might, like the -butler, approximate Uriah Heep. If the -mistress’s love of delicacy and color had -not been cultivated by association with -taste from childhood, her finery might -be as vulgar as the maid’s which provokes -her satire. It is after all a question -of surroundings and education. -And in this country, where Aladdin-fortunes -spring into being by the rubbing -of a lamp—where families of, for -example, many centuries of the downtrodden -life of European peasant jump -from direst poverty to untold wealth—environment -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span> -has often no opportunity to -form the folk of gentle breeding. Many -instances are not lacking where those -who wait are more gently bred than -those who are waited upon.</p> - -<p>In their larger discourse, then, up-to-date -household books stand for the very -essence of democracy and human-heartedness—which -is also the very essence -of aristocracy. After the old manner -which Master Farley described, our -women seem to have given their books -to the public with the faith that they -contain much other books have not -touched—to stand for an absolutely -equable humanity, for kindness and -enduring courtesy between those who -employ and those who are employed, the -poor rich and the rich poor, the householders -and the houseworkers—to state -the relations between master and man -and mistress and maid more explicitly -than they have before been stated, and -thus to help toward a more perfect organization -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -of the forces that carry on -our households—to direct with scientific -and economic prevision the food of -the house members; to emphasize in all -departments of the house thoroughgoing -sanitation and scientific cleanliness.</p> - -<p>Of questions of the household—of -housekeeping and home-making—our -American women have been supposed -somewhat careless. Possibly this judgment -over the sea has been builded upon -our women’s vivacity, and a subtle intellectual -force they possess, and also from -their interest in affairs at large, and -again from their careful and cleanly attention -to their person—“they keep their -teeth too clean,” says a much-read -French author. Noting such characteristics, -foreigners have jumped to the -conclusion that American women are not -skilled in works within doors. In almost -every European country this is common -report. “We German women are such -devoted housekeepers,” said the wife of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -an eminent Deutscher, “and you American -women know so little about such -things!” “Bless your heart!” I exclaimed—or -if not just that then its German -equivalent—thinking of the perfectly -kept homes from the rocks and -pines of Maine to the California surf; -“you German women with your little -haushaltungen, heating your rooms with -porcelain stoves, and your frequent reversion -in meals to the simplicity of -wurst and beer, have no conception of -the size and complexity of American -households and the executive capabilities -necessary to keep them in orderly -work. Yours is mere doll’s housekeeping—no -furnaces, no hot water, no electricity, -no elevators, no telephone, and -no elaborate menus.”</p> - -<p>Our American women are model -housekeepers and home-makers, as thousands -of homes testify, but the interests -of the mistresses of these houses are -broader, their lives are commonly more -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span> -projected into the outer world of organized -philanthropy and art than women’s -lives abroad, and the apparent non-intrusion -of domestic affairs leads foreigners -to misinterpret their interest -and their zeal. It is the consummate -executive who can set aside most personal -cares and take on others efficiently. -Moreover, it is not here as where a -learned professor declared: “Die erste -Tugend eines Weibes ist die Sparsamkeit.”</p> - -<p>To have a home in which daily duties -move without noise and as like a clock -as its human machinery will permit, and -to have a table of simplicity and excellence, -is worth a pleasure-giving ambition -and a womanly ambition. It is to -bring, in current critical phrase, three-fourths -of the comfort of life to those -whose lives are joined to the mistress of -such a household—the loaf-giver who -spends her brains for each ordered day -and meal. Moreover, and greatest of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> -all, to plan and carry on so excellent an -establishment is far-reaching upon all -men. It is the very essence of morality—is -duty—<i>i.e.</i>, service—and law.</p> - -<p>The French aver that men of the -larger capacity have for food a particularly -keen enjoyment. Possibly this -holds good for Frenchmen—for the -author of Monte Cristo, or for a Brillat-Savarin, -of whose taste the following -story is told: “Halting one day at Sens, -when on his way to Lyons, Savarin sent, -according to his invariable custom, for -the cook, and asked what he could have -for dinner. ‘Little enough,’ was the -reply. ‘But let us see,’ retorted Savarin; -‘let us go into the kitchen and talk -the matter over.’ There he found four -turkeys roasting. ‘Why!’ exclaimed he, -‘you told me you had nothing in the -house! let me have one of those turkeys.’ -‘Impossible!’ said the cook; -‘they are all bespoken by a gentleman -up-stairs.’ ‘He must have a large party -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> -to dine with him, then?’ ‘No; he dines -by himself.’ ‘Indeed!’ said the gastronome; -‘I should like much to be acquainted -with the man who orders four -turkeys for his own eating.’ The cook -was sure the gentleman would be glad -of his acquaintance, and Savarin, on -going to pay his respects to the stranger, -found him to be no other than his own -son. ‘What! you rascal! four turkeys -all to yourself!’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said Savarin, -junior; ‘you know that when we have a -turkey at home you always reserve for -yourself the pope’s nose; I was resolved -to regale myself for once in my life; -and here I am, ready to begin, although -I did not expect the honour of your -company.’”</p> - -<p>The French may say truly of the -famous “high-priest of gastronomy.” -And a story which has lately appeared -in Germany tells of a sensitive palate in -Goethe: “At a small party at the court -of Weimar, the Marshal asked permission -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span> -to submit a nameless sample of -wine. Accordingly, a red wine was circulated, -tasted, and much commended. -Several of the company pronounced it -Burgundy, but could not agree as to the -special vintage or the year. Goethe -alone tasted and tasted again, shook his -head, and, with a meditative air, set his -glass on the table. ‘Your Excellency -appears to be of a different opinion,’ -said the court marshal. ‘May I ask what -name you give to the wine?’ ‘The wine,’ -said the poet, ‘is quite unknown to me; -but I do not think it is a Burgundy. I -should rather consider it a good Jena -wine that has been kept for some while -in a Madeira cask.’ ‘And so, in fact, it -is,’ said the court marshal. For a more -discriminating palate, one must go to the -story of the rival wine-tasters in ‘Don -Quixote,’ who from a single glass -detected the key and leather thong in a -cask of wine.”</p> - -<p>But that great capacity means also -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span> -discriminating palate could hardly be -true for Americans of the old stock and -simple life. Judge Usher, Secretary of -Interior in Lincoln’s Cabinet at the time -of the President’s death, said that he -had never heard Abraham Lincoln refer -to his food in any way whatever.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>From a consideration of women’s -cook-books springs another suggestion. -Heaped upon one’s table, the open pages -and appetiteful illustrations put one to -thinking that if women of intelligence, -and of leisure except for burdens they -assume under so-called charity or a faddish -impulse, were to take each some -department of the household, and give -time and effort to gaining a complete -knowledge of that department—a knowledge -of its evolution and history, of its -scientific and hygienic bearings, of its -gastronomic values if it touched upon -the table—there would be great gain to -the world at large and to their friends. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span> -For instance, if a woman skilled in -domestic science and the domestic arts -were to take some fruit, or some vegetable, -or cereal, or meat, and develop -to the utmost what an old author-cook -calls, after those cook-oracles of ancient -Rome, the “Apician mysteries” of the -dish, her name would deserve to go down -to posterity with something of the odor—or -flavor—of sanctity. Hundreds of -saints in the calendar never did anything -half so meritorious and worthy of -felicitous recognition from their fellow-men.</p> - -<p>Take, for example, the democratic -cabbage and its cousins german, and -their treatment in the average cuisine. -What might not such an investigation -show this Monsieur Chou or Herr Kohl -and his relations capable of!—the cabbage -itself, the Scotch kale, the Jersey -cabbage, and Brussels sprouts, and cauliflower, -and broccoli, and kohl-rabi, and -cabbage palms, and still other species! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span> -Looked at in their evolution, and the -part they have played in human history -as far back as in old Persia and the Anabasis -of the Greeks, and so late as the -famine times of Ireland, these succulent -and nutritious vegetables would be most -interesting. And, even if chemically -their elements vary, the fact that all the -family are blessed with a large percentage -of nitrogen might be shown to have -increased their usefulness long before -chemists analyzed their tissues and told -us why men who could not buy meat -so carefully cultivated the foody leaves. -Under such sane and beneficent impulses -every well-directed household would -become an experiment station for the -study of human food—not the extravagant -and rare after the test and search -of imperial Heliogabalus, but in the -best modern, scientific, economic, gastronomic, -and democratic manner.</p> - -<p>Since making this foregoing suggestion -I find this point similarly touched -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span> -by the man who dissertated on roast pig. -“It is a desideratum,” says Lamb, “in -works that treat de re culinaria, that we -have no rationale of sauces, or theory of -mixed flavours: as to show why cabbage -is reprehensible with roast beef, laudable -with bacon; why the haunch of mutton -seeks the alliance of currant jelly, the -shoulder civilly declineth it; why loin -of veal (a pretty problem), being itself -unctious, seeketh the adventitious lubricity -of melted butter—and why the -same part in pork, not more oleaginous, -abhorreth from it; why the French bean -sympathizes with the flesh of deer; why -salt fish points to parsnips.... We are -as yet but in the empirical stage of cookery. -We feed ignorantly, and want to -be able to give a reason of the relish -that is in us.”</p> - -<p>In speaking of modern household -books one cannot have done without adding -still one word more about the use of -the word “servant” as these books seem -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span> -to speak of it. Owing to an attempted -Europeanizing of our ideas, and also to -the fact that many of our domestics are -of foreign birth and habits of thought—or -of the lowly, velvet-voiced, unassertive -suavity of the most loyal negro—the -term has gradually crept to a quasi acceptance -in this country. It is a word -not infrequently obnoxious to Americans—employers—of -the old stock, and -trained in the spirit which wrote the -Declaration of Independence and fought -its sequent War. “From the time of -the Revolution,” says Miss Salmon in -her “Domestic Service,” “until about -1850 the word ‘servant’ does not seem -to have been generally applied in either -section [north or south] to white persons -of American birth.”</p> - -<p>The term indicates social conditions -which no longer exist and represents -ideas which no longer have real life—we -have but to consider how the radical -Defoe published, in 1724, “The Great -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span> -Law of Subordination consider’d; or, -the Insolence and Unsufferable Behaviour -of Servants in England duly enquir’d -into,” to be convinced of our vast -advance in human sympathy—and a -revival of our American spirit toward -the word would be a wholesome course. -In the mouths of many who use it to -excess—those mainly at fault are innocently -imitative, unthinking, or pretentious -women—it sounds ungracious, if -not vulgar, and distinctly untrue to those -who made the country for us and desirable -for us to live in; and untrue also -to the best social feeling of to-day. It -is still for a genuine American rather -hard to imagine a person such as the -word “servant” connotes—a lackey, a -receiver of tips of any sort—with an -election ballot in hand and voting thinkingly, -knowingly, intelligently for the -guidance of our great government. It -would not have been so difficult for the -old δοῦλοι of Athens to vote upon the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span> -Pnyx as for such a man to vote aright -for us. And not infrequently, in the ups -and downs of speculation and the mushroom -growth and life of fortunes among -us, the “servant,” to use the old biblical -phrase, is sometimes greater in moral, -intellectual, and social graces than his -“lord.” The term belongs to times, -and the temperamental condition of -times when traces of slavery were -common, and when employers believed, -and acted upon the faith, that they -hired not a person’s labor but the -person himself—or herself—who was -subject to a sort of ownership and -control.</p> - -<p>Let us remand the word to the days -of Dean Swift and such conditions as the -tremendous satire of his “Directions to -Servants” exhibited, in which—except -perhaps in Swift’s great heart—there -was neither the humanity of our times, -nor the courtesy of our times, nor the -sure knowledge of our times—which -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span> -endeavor to create, and, in truth, are -gradually making trained and skilful -workers in every department, and demand -in return for service with perfectness -as its aim, independence of -the person, dignified treatment and -genuine respect from the employer.</p> - -<p>All these things the women’s household -and cook-books will be, nay, are, -gradually teaching, and that which -Charles Carter, “lately cook to his -Grace the Duke of Argyle,” wrote in -1730 may still hold good: “’Twill be -very easy,” said Master Carter, “for -an ordinary Cook when he is well-instructed -in the most Elegant Parts of -his Profession to lower his Hand at any -time; and he that can excellently perform -in a Courtly and Grand Manner, -will never be at a Loss in any other.” -When this future knowledge and adjustment -come we shall be free from the tendencies -which Mistress Glasse, after her -outspoken manner, describes of her own -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span> -generation: “So much is the blind folly -of this age,” cries the good woman, -“that they would rather be imposed -upon by a French booby than give encouragement -to a good English cook.”</p> - -<p>Economic changes such as we have -indicated must in measurable time ensue. -The science and the art of conducting -a house are now obtaining recognition -in our schools. Not long, and -the knowledge will be widespread. Its -very existence, and the possibility of its -diffusion, is a result of the nineteenth -century movement for the broadening of -women’s knowledge and the expansion -of their interests and independence—this -wedded with the humane conviction -that the wisest and fruitfullest -use of scientific deduction and skill is -in the bettering of human life. Behind -and giving potence to these impulses is -the fellowship, liberty, and equality of -human kind—the great idea of democracy. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span></p> - -<p>Already we have gone back to the -wholesomeness of our English forebears’ -estimate that the physician and -cook are inseparable. Further still, we -may ultimately retrace our ideas, and -from the point of view of economics -and sociology declare that with us, as -with the old Jews and Greeks, the priest -and the cook are one. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>PLAGIARIZING HUMORS OF -BENJAMIN FRANKLIN</h2> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this I sweare by blackest brooke of hell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am no pick-purse of another’s wit.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Sir Philip Sidney</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet these mine owne, I wrong not other men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor traffique farther then this happy clime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor filch from Portes, nor from Petrarchs pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A fault too common in this latter time.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Divine Sir Philip, I avouch thy writ,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I am no pick-purse of anothers wit.<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Michael Drayton</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>A thing always becomes his at last who says -it best, and thus makes it his own.<br /> -<span class="author smcap">James Russell Lowell</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 id="PLAGIARIZING_HUMORS_OF_BENJAMIN_FRANKLIN">PLAGIARIZING HUMORS OF -BENJAMIN FRANKLIN</h2> - -<p>Among the jocularities of literature -none is greater than Squire Bickerstaff’s; -and none has had greater results—with -perhaps one exception. The -practicality of the Squire’s jest and the -flavor of it suited the century of Squire -Western rather than our own. But its -excuse was in the end it served of breaking -the old astrologer’s hold upon the -people.</p> - -<p>Jonathan Swift is the writer to whom -the original Bickerstaff squibs are in -the main to be ascribed. It is due to -Swift’s clarity and strength that they -are among the best of literary fooling.</p> - -<p>But Swift was not alone. He had -the help of Addison, Steele, Prior, Congreve, -and other wits of Will’s Coffee-House -and St. James’s. Together they -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span> -set all London laughing. Upon Swift’s -shoulders, however, falls the onus of the -joke which must have been his recreation -amid pamphleteering and the smudging -of his ecclesiastical hand with political -ink. It happened in 1708.</p> - -<p>The English almanac was not in -Swift’s day as in later times a simple -calendar of guesses about the weather. -It was rather a “prognosticator” in -ambiguous phrase of war, pestilence, -murder, and such horrors as our yellow -press nowadays serves up to readers, -like in development to the conning public -of the old almanacs. It was at all times -solemn and dogmatic. What the almanac -prognosticated was its philomath’s -duty to furnish. His science and pre-science -builded a supposed influence of -the stars and their movements upon the -moral life of man.</p> - -<p>Squire Bicker staff’s jest had to do -with almanac-makers, and was directed -against a chief pretender, Dr. Partridge, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span> -the astrologer and philomath Pope refers -to when he speaks of the translation -of the raped “Lock” to the skies:</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">When next he looks through Galileo’s eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And hence th’ egregious wizard shall foredoom<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The fate of Louis and the fall of Rome.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In the seventeenth century the ascendency -of these charlatans had become -alarming. One of the most adroit and -unscrupulous of their number—William -Lilly—had large following. They not -only had the popular ear, but now and -then a man like Dryden inclined to them. -Nor did Sir Thomas Browne “reject a -sober and regulated astrology.”</p> - -<p>At the beginning of the eighteenth -century the scandal of their excesses was -growing, and it was then that Swift -came forward—just as Swift was constantly -coming forward with his great -humanity, in one instance to save Ireland -the infliction of Wood’s halfpence, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span> -and again in protest against English restriction -of Irish trade; poor Swift’s -heart was always with the poor, the -duped and undefended—it was then that -Swift came forward with “Predictions -for the year 1708. Wherein the Month, -and the Day of the Month, are set down, -the Person named, and the great Actions -and Events of next Year particularly -related, as They will come to Pass. -Written to Prevent the People of England -from being farther imposed on by -the vulgar Almanack-Makers.”</p> - -<p>The surname of the signature, “Isaac -Bickerstaff,” Swift took from a locksmith’s -sign. The Isaac he added as not -commonly in use.</p> - -<p>“I have considered,” he begins, “the -gross abuse of astrology in this kingdom, -and upon debating the matter with myself, -I could not possibly lay the fault -upon the art, but upon those gross impostors, -who set up to be the artists. I -know several learned men have contended -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span> -that the whole is a cheat; that -it is absurd and ridiculous to imagine -the stars can have any influence at all -upon human actions, thoughts, or inclinations; -and whoever has not bent his -studies that way may be excused for -thinking so, when he sees in how -wretched a manner that noble art is -treated by a few mean, illiterate traders -between us and the stars; who import a -yearly stock of nonsense, lies, folly, and -impertinence, which they offer to the -world as genuine from the planets, -though they descend from no greater a -height than their own brains....</p> - -<p>“As for the few following predictions, -I now offer the world, I forebore to publish -them till I had perused the several -Almanacks for the year we are now -entered upon. I found them all in the -usual strain, and I beg the reader will -compare their manner with mine: and -here I make bold to tell the world that I -lay the whole credit of my art upon the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span> -truth of these predictions; and I will be -content that Partridge and the rest of -his clan may hoot me for a cheat and -impostor, if I fail in any single particular -of moment....</p> - -<p>“My first prediction is but a trifle, yet -I will mention it to show how ignorant -these sottish pretenders to astrology are -in their own concerns: it relates to Partridge, -the Almanack-maker. I have -consulted the star of his nativity by my -own rules, and find he will infallibly die -upon the 29th of March next, about -eleven at night, of a raging fever; therefore -I advise him to consider of it, and -settle his affairs in time....”</p> - -<p>An “Answer to Bickerstaff by a Person -of Quality,” evidently from the -hand of Swift and his friends, followed -these “Predictions.”</p> - -<p>“I have not observed for some years -past,” it begins, “any insignificant -paper to have made more noise, or be -more greedily bought, than that of these -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span> -Predictions.... I shall not enter upon -the examination of them; but think it -very incumbent upon the learned Mr. -Partridge to take them into his consideration, -and lay as many errors in -astrology as possible to Mr. Bickerstaff’s -account. He may justly, I think, -challenge the ’squire to publish the calculation -he has made of Partridge’s -nativity, by the credit of which he so -determinately pronounces the time and -manner of his death; and Mr. Bickerstaff -can do no less in honour, than give -Mr. Partridge the same advantage of -calculating his, by sending him an -account of the time and place of his -birth, with other particulars necessary -for such a work. By which, no doubt, -the learned world will be engaged in the -dispute, and take part on each side -according as they are inclined....”</p> - -<p>“The Accomplishment of the first of -Mr. Bickerstaff’s Predictions, being an -Account of the Death of Mr. Partridge, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span> -the Almanack-Maker, upon the 29th instant -in a Letter to a Person of Honour, -written in the year 1708,” continues the -jocularity.</p> - -<p>“My Lord: In obedience to your -Lordship’s commands, as well as to satisfy -my own curiosity, I have some days -past inquired constantly after Partridge -the Almanack-maker, of whom it was -foretold in Mr. Bickerstaff’s Predictions, -published about a month ago, that -he should die the 29th instant, about -eleven at night, of a raging fever.... -I saw him accidentally once or twice, -about ten days before he died, and -observed he began very much to droop -and languish, though I hear his friends -did not seem to apprehend him in any -danger. About two or three days ago he -grew ill, ... but when I saw him he -had his understanding as well as ever -I knew, and spoke strong and hearty, -without any seeming uneasiness or constraint -[saying].... ‘I am a poor ignorant -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -fellow, bred to a mean trade, yet -I have sense enough to know that all -pretences of foretelling by astrology are -deceits for this manifest reason: because -the wise and the learned, who can only -judge whether there be any truth in this -science, do all unanimously agree to -laugh at and despise it; and none but -the poor, ignorant vulgar give it any -credit, and that only upon the word of -such silly wretches as I and my fellows, -who can hardly write or read.’...</p> - -<p>“After half an hour’s conversation I -took my leave, being almost stifled with -the closeness of the room. I imagined -he could not hold out long, and therefore -withdrew to a little coffee-house hard by, -leaving a servant at the house with -orders to come immediately and tell me, -as near as he could, the minute when -Partridge should expire, which was not -above two hours after.”</p> - -<p>The burlesque next before the public, -“Squire Bickerstaff detected; or, the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span> -Astrological Impostor convicted, by -John Partridge, student of physic and -astrology, a True and Impartial account -of the Proceedings of Isaac Bickerstaff, -Esq., against me,” was doubtless drawn -up by Addison’s friend Yalden, whom -Scott speaks of as “Partridge’s near -neighbor.”</p> - -<p>“The 28th of March, Anno Dom. -1708,” it begins, “being the night this -sham prophet had so impudently fixed -for my last, which made little impression -on myself: but I cannot answer for my -whole family; for my wife, with concern -more than usual, prevailed on me to take -somewhat to sweat for a cold; and -between the hours of eight and nine to -go to bed; the maid, as she was warming -my bed, with a curiosity natural to -young wenches, runs to the window, and -asks of one passing the street who the -bell tolled for? Dr. Partridge, says he, -the famous almanack-maker, who died -suddenly this evening: the poor girl, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span> -provoked, told him he lied like a rascal; -the other very sedately replied, the sexton -had so informed him, and if false, -he was to blame for imposing upon -a stranger. She asked a second, and a -third, as they passed, and every one was -in the same tone. Now, I do not say -these are accomplices to a certain astrological -’squire, and that one Bickerstaff -might be sauntering thereabout, because -I will assert nothing here, but what I -dare attest for plain matter of fact. My -wife at this fell into a violent disorder, -and I must own I was a little discomposed -at the oddness of the accident. -In the mean time one knocks at my door; -Betty runs down, and opening, finds a -sober grave person, who modestly inquires -if this was Dr. Partridge’s? She, -taking him for some cautious city -patient, that came at that time for privacy, -shews him into the dining-room. -As soon as I could compose myself, I -went to him, and was surprised to find -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span> -my gentleman mounted on a table with -a two-foot rule in his hand, measuring -my walls, and taking the dimensions of -the room. Pray, sir, says I, not to interrupt -you, have you any business with -me?—Only, sir, replies he, order the girl -to bring me a better light, for this is a -very dim one.—Sir, says I, my name is -Partridge.—O! the doctor’s brother, -belike, cries he; the staircase, I believe, -and these two apartments hung in close -mourning will be sufficient, and only a -strip of bays round the other rooms. -The doctor must needs die rich, he had -great dealings in his way for many -years; if he had no family coat, you -had as good use the escutcheons of the -company, they are as showish, and will -look as magnificent, as if he was descended -from the blood royal.—With -that I assumed a greater air of authority, -and demanded who employed him, -or how he came there?—Why, I was sent, -sir, by the company of undertakers, says -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span> -he, and they were employed by the -honest gentleman, who is executor to the -good doctor departed; and our rascally -porter, I believe, is fallen fast asleep -with the black cloth and sconces, or he -had been here, and we might have been -tacking up by this time.—Sir, says I, -pray be advised by a friend, and make -the best of your speed out of my doors, -for I hear my wife’s voice (which, by -the by, is pretty distinguishable), and -in that corner of the room stands a good -cudgel, which somebody has felt before -now; if that light in her hands, and she -know the business you come about, without -consulting the stars, I can assure -you it will be employed very much to -the detriment of your person.—Sir, -cries he, bowing with great civility, I -perceive extreme grief for the loss of -the doctor disorders you a little at present, -but early in the morning I will wait -on you with all the necessary materials.... -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span></p> - -<p>“Well, once more I got my door -closed, and prepared for bed, in hopes -of a little repose after so many ruffling -adventures; just as I was putting out -my light in order to it, another bounces -as hard as he can knock; I open the -window and ask who is there and what -he wants? I am Ned, the sexton, replies -he, and come to know whether the doctor -left any orders for a funeral sermon, -and where he is to be laid, and whether -his grave is to be plain or bricked?—Why, -sirrah, say I, you know me well -enough; you know I am not dead, and -how dare you affront me after this manner?—Alackaday, -sir, replies the fellow, -why it is in print, and the whole town -knows you are dead; why, there is Mr. -White, the joiner, is fitting screws to -your coffin; he will be here with it in an -instant: he was afraid you would have -wanted it before this time.... In -short, what with undertakers, embalmers, -joiners, sextons, and your damned -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span> -elegy hawkers upon a late practitioner -in physic and astrology, I got not one -wink of sleep the whole night, nor scarce -a moment’s rest ever since....</p> - -<p>“I could not stir out of doors for the -space of three months after this, but -presently one comes up to me in the -street, Mr. Partridge, that coffin you was -last buried in, I have not yet been paid -for: Doctor, cries another dog, how do -you think people can live by making of -graves for nothing? next time you die, -you may even toll out the bell yourself -for Ned. A third rogue tips me by the -elbow, and wonders how I have the conscience -to sneak abroad without paying -my funeral expenses.—Lord, says one, I -durst have swore that was honest Dr. -Partridge, my old friend, but, poor man, -he is gone.—I beg your pardon, says -another, you look so like my old acquaintance -that I used to consult on -some private occasions; but, alack, he is -gone the way of all flesh.—Look, look, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span> -look, cries a third, after a competent -space of staring at me, would not one -think our neighbour, the almanack-maker, -was crept out of his grave, to -take the other peep at the stars in this -world, and shew how much he is improved -in fortune-telling by having -taken a journey to the other?...</p> - -<p>“My poor wife is run almost distracted -with being called widow Partridge, -when she knows it is false; and -once a term she is cited into the court to -take out letters of administration. But -the greatest grievance is a paltry quack -that takes up my calling just under my -nose, and in his printed directions, with -N. B.—says he lives in the house of the -late ingenious Mr. John Partridge, an -eminent practitioner in leather, physic, -and astrology....”</p> - -<p>The astrologer, forgetting to refer to -the stars for evidence, indignantly declared -himself to be alive, and Swift’s -returning “Vindication of Isaac Bickerstaff, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span> -Esq., against what is objected to -by Mr. Partridge in his Almanack for -the present year, 1709, by the said Isaac -Bickerstaff, Esq.,” complains:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Partridge has been lately -pleased to treat me after a very rough -manner in that which is called his almanack -for the present year ... [regarding] -my predictions, which foretold the -death of Mr. Partridge to happen on -March 29, 1708. This he is pleased to -contradict absolutely in the almanack he -has published for the present year....</p> - -<p>“Without entering into criticisms of -chronology about the hour of his death, -I shall only prove that Mr. Partridge is -not alive. And my first argument is -this: about a thousand gentlemen having -bought his almanacks for this year, -merely to find what he said against me, -at every line they read, they would lift -up their eyes, and cry out betwixt rage -and laughter, ‘they were sure no man -alive ever writ such damned stuff as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span> -this.’ Neither did I ever hear that opinion -disputed: ... Therefore, if an uninformed -carcase walks still about and -is pleased to call himself Partridge, Mr. -Bickerstaff does not think himself any -way answerable for that. Neither had -the said carcase any right to beat the -poor boy who happened to pass by it in -the street, crying, ‘A full and true account -of Dr. Partridge’s death,’ etc.</p> - -<p>“... I will plainly prove him to be -dead, out of his own almanack for this -year, and from the very passage which -he produces to make us think him alive. -He there says ‘he is not only now alive, -but was also alive upon that very 29th -of March which I foretold he should die -on’: by this he declares his opinion that -a man may be alive now who was not -alive a twelvemonth ago. And indeed -there lies the sophistry of his argument. -He dares not assert he was alive ever -since that 29th of March, but that he ‘is -now alive and was so on that day’: I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">305</span> -grant the latter; for he did not die till -night, as appears by the printed account -of his death, in a letter to a lord; and -whether he be since revived, I leave the -world to judge....”</p> - -<p>The joke had gained its end; the astrologer -and philomath had been ridiculed -out of existence. But the name -of the “astrological ’squire” was in -everybody’s mouth; and when in April, -1709, Steele began “The Tatler,” Isaac -Bickerstaff, Esquire, spoke in the dedication -of a gentleman who “had written -Predictions, and Two or Three other -Pieces in my Name, which had render’d -it famous through all Parts of Europe; -and by an inimitable Spirit and Humour, -raised it to as high a Pitch of -Reputation as it could possibly arrive -at.”</p> - -<p>The Inquisition in Portugal had, with -utmost gravity, condemned Bickerstaff’s -predictions and the readers of them, and -had burnt his predictions. The Company -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">306</span> -of Stationers in London obtained -in 1709 an injunction against the issuing -of any almanac by John Partridge, as if -in fact he were dead.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>If the fame of this foolery was -through all parts of Europe, it must also -have crossed to the English colonies of -America, and by reference to this fact -we may explain the curious literary parallel -Poor Richard’s Almanac affords. -Twenty-five years later Benjamin -Franklin played the selfsame joke in -Philadelphia.</p> - -<p>Franklin was but two years old when -Swift and his Bickerstaff coadjutors -were jesting. But by the time he had -grown and wandered to Philadelphia -and become a journeyman printer—by -1733—Addison, Steele, Prior, and Congreve -had died, and Swift’s wonderful -mind was turned upon and eating -itself in the silent deanery of St. Patrick’s. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">307</span></p> - -<p>Conditions about him gave Franklin -every opportunity for the jest. The -almanac in the America of 1733 had -even greater acceptance than the like -publication of England in Isaac Bickerstaff’s -day. No output of the colonial -press, not even the publication of theological -tracts, was so frequent or so remunerative. -It was the sole annual -which commonly penetrated the farmhouse -of the colonists, where it hung in -neighborly importance near the Bible, -Fox’s “Book of Martyrs,” and Jonathan -Edwards’s tractate on “The Freedom -of the Human Will.” And it had -uses. Besides furnishing a calendar, -weather prophecies, and jokes, it added -receipts for cooking, pickling, dyeing, -and in many ways was the “Useful -Companion” its title-page proclaimed.</p> - -<p>So keen, practical, and energetic a -nature as Franklin’s could not let the -opportunity pass for turning a penny, -and with the inimitable adaptability -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">308</span> -that marked him all his life he begins his -Poor Richard of 1733:</p> - -<p>“Courteous Reader, I might in this -place attempt to gain thy favour by declaring -that I write Almanacks with no -other view than that of the publick good, -but in this I should not be sincere; and -men are now-a-days too wise to be deceiv’d -by pretences, how specious soever. -The plain truth of the matter is, I am -excessive poor, and my wife, good -woman, is, I tell her, excessive proud; -she can not bear, she says, to sit spinning -in her shift of tow, while I do -nothing but gaze at the stars; and has -threatened more than once to burn all -my books and rattling-traps (as she -calls my instruments), if I do not make -some profitable use of them for the good -of my family. The printer has offer’d -me some considerable share of the -profits, and I have thus began to comply -with my dame’s desire.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, this motive would have had -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">309</span> -force enough to have made me publish -an Almanack many years since, had it -not been overpowered by my regard for -my good friend and fellow-student, Mr. -Titan Leeds, whose interest I was extreamly -unwilling to hurt. But this -obstacle (I am far from speaking it with -pleasure) is soon to be removed, since -inexorable death, who was never known -to respect merit, has already prepared -the mortal dart, the fatal sister has -already extended her destroying shears, -and that ingenious man must soon be -taken from us. He dies, by my calculation, -made at his request, on Oct. 17, -1733, 3 ho. 29 m., <small>P.M.</small>, at the very instant -of the ☌ of ☉ and ☿. By his own calculation -he will survive till the 26th of -the same month. This small difference -between us we have disputed whenever -we have met these nine years past; but -at length he is inclinable to agree with -my judgment. Which of us is most -exact, a little time will now determine. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">310</span> -As, therefore, these Provinces may not -longer expect to see any of his performances -after this year, I think myself free -to take up my task, and request a share -of publick encouragement, which I am -the more apt to hope for on this account, -that the buyer of my Almanack may -consider himself not only as purchasing -an useful utensil, but as performing an -act of charity to his poor</p> - -<p class="author"> -“Friend and servant,<br /> -“<span class="smcap">R. Saunders</span>.” -</p> - -<p>Franklin had a more eager biter than -Partridge proved to Bickerstaff’s bait, -and Titan Leeds, in his American Almanack -for 1734, showed how uneasy -was the hook:</p> - -<p>“Kind Reader, Perhaps it may be expected -that I should say something concerning -an Almanack printed for the -Year 1733, said to be writ by Poor -Richard or Richard Saunders, who for -want of other matter was pleased to tell -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">311</span> -his Readers, that he had calculated my -Nativity, and from thence predicts my -Death to be the 17th of October, 1733. -At 29 min. past 3 a-clock in the Afternoon, -and that these Provinces may not -expect to see any more of his (Titan -Leeds) Performances, and this precise -Predicter, who predicts to a Minute, -proposes to succeed me in Writing of -Almanacks; but notwithstanding his -false Prediction, I have by the Mercy -of God lived to write a diary for the -Year 1734, and to publish the Folly and -Ignorance of this presumptuous Author. -Nay, he adds another gross Falsehood -in his Almanack, viz.—That by my own -Calculation, I shall survive until the -26th of the said Month (October), which -is as untrue as the former, for I do not -pretend to that Knowledge, altho’ he has -usurpt the Knowledge of the Almighty -herein, and manifested himself a Fool -and a Lyar. And by the mercy of God -I have lived to survive this conceited -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">312</span> -Scriblers Day and Minute whereon he -has predicted my Death; and as I have -supplyed my Country with Almanacks -for three seven Years by past, to general -Satisfaction, so perhaps I may live -to write when his Performances are -Dead. Thus much from your annual -Friend, Titan Leeds, October 18, 1733, -3 ho. 33 min. <small>P.M.</small>”</p> - -<p>“... In the preface to my last Almanack,” -wrote Franklin, in genuine -humor, in Poor Richard for 1734, “I -foretold the death of my dear old friend -and fellow-student, the learned and ingenious -Mr. Titan Leeds, which was -to be the 17th of October, 1733, 3 h., -29 m., <small>P.M.</small>, at the very instant of the -☌ of ☉ and ☿. By his own calculation, he -was to survive till the 26th of the same -month, and expire in the time of the -eclipse, near 11 o’clock <small>A.M.</small> At which -of these times he died, or whether he be -really yet dead, I cannot at this present -writing positively assure my readers; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">313</span> -forasmuch as a disorder in my own -family demanded my presence, and -would not permit me, as I had intended, -to be with him in his last moments, to -receive his last embrace, to close his -eyes, and do the duty of a friend in performing -the last offices to the departed. -Therefore it is that I cannot positively -affirm whether he be dead or not; for -the stars only show to the skilful what -will happen in the natural and universal -chain of causes and effects; but ’tis well -known, that the events which would -otherwise certainly happen, at certain -times, in the course of nature, are sometimes -set aside or postpon’d, for wise -and good reasons, by the immediate particular -disposition of Providence; which -particular disposition the stars can by -no means discover or foreshow. There -is, however (and I can not speak it without -sorrow), there is the strongest probability -that my dear friend is no more; -for there appears in his name, as I am -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">314</span> -assured, an Almanack for the year 1734, -in which I am treated in a very gross -and unhandsome manner, in which I am -called a false predicter, an ignorant, a -conceited scribbler, a fool and a lyar. -Mr. Leeds was too well bred to use any -man so indecently and so scurrilously, -and moreover his esteem and affection -for me was extraordinary; so that it is -to be feared that pamphlet may be only -a contrivance of somebody or other, who -hopes, perhaps, to sell two or three -years’ Almanacks still, by the sole force -and virtue of Mr. Leeds’ name. But, -certainly, to put words into the mouth -of a gentleman and a man of letters -against his friend, which the meanest -and most scandalous of the people -might be ashamed to utter even in a -drunken quarrel, is an unpardonable -injury to his memory, and an imposition -upon the publick.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Leeds was not only profoundly -skilful in the useful science he profess’d, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">315</span> -but he was a man of exemplary sobriety, -a most sincere friend, and an exact performer -of his word. These valuable -qualifications, with many others, so -much endeared him to me, that although -it should be so, that, contrary to all probability, -contrary to my prediction and -his own, he might possibly be yet alive, -yet my loss of honour, as a prognosticate, -cannot afford me so much mortification -as his life, health, and safety -would give me joy and satisfaction....”</p> - -<p>Again, Leeds, in The American Almanack -for 1735, returns Franklin’s jest:</p> - -<p>“Courteous and Kind Reader: My -Almanack being in its usual Method, -needs no Explanation; but perhaps it -may be expected by some that I shall -say something concerning Poor Richard, -or otherwise Richard Saunders’s Almanack, -which I suppose was printed in -the Year 1733 for the ensuing Year -1734, wherein he useth me with such -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">316</span> -good Manners, I can hardly find what to -say to him, without it is to advise him -not to be too proud because by his Prædicting -my Death, and his writing an -Almanack....</p> - -<p>“But if Falsehood and Inginuity be -so rewarded, What may he expect if -ever he be in a capacity to publish that -that is either Just or according to Art? -Therefore I shall say little more about -it than, as a Friend, to advise he will -never take upon him to prædict or -ascribe any Person’s Death, till he has -learned to do it better than he did -before....”</p> - -<p>To this exhortation Franklin makes -the following gay sally in Poor Richard -for 1735.</p> - -<p>“... Whatever may be the musick of -the spheres, how great soever the harmony -of the stars, ’tis certain there is -no harmony among the star-gazers: but -they are perpetually growling and snarling -at one another like strange curs, or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">317</span> -like some men at their wives. I had resolved -to keep the peace on my own part, -and offend none of them; and I shall -persist in that resolution. But having -receiv’d much abuse from Titan Leeds -deceas’d (Titan Leeds when living -would not have used me so): I say, -having receiv’d much abuse from the -ghost of Titan Leeds, who pretends to -be still living, and to write Almanacks -in spight of me and my predictions, I -can not help saying, that tho’ I take it -patiently, I take it very unkindly. And -whatever he may pretend, ’tis undoubtedly -true that he is really defunct and -dead. First, because the stars are seldom -disappointed, never but in the case -of wise men, sapiens dominabitur asties, -and they foreshadowed his death at the -time I predicted it. Secondly, ’twas -requisite and necessary he should die -punctually at that time for the honor of -astrology, the art professed both by him -and his father before him. Thirdly, ’tis -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">318</span> -plain to every one that reads his two -last Almanacks (for 1734 and ’35), that -they are not written with that life his -performances used to be written with; -the wit is low and flat; the little hints -dull and spiritless; nothing smart in -them but Hudibras’s verses against -astrology at the heads of the months in -the last, which no astrologer but a dead -one would have inserted, and no man -living would or could write such stuff -as the rest. But lastly, I shall convince -him from his own words that he is dead -(ex ore suo condemnatus est); for in -his preface to his Almanack for 1734, -he says: ‘Saunders adds another gross -falsehood in his Almanack, viz., that by -my own calculation, I shall survive until -the 26th of the said month, October, 1733, -which is as untrue as the former.’ Now -if it be as Leeds says, untrue and a -gross falsehood, that he survived till the -26th of October, 1733, then it is certainly -true that he died before that time; and -if he died before that time he is dead -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">319</span> -now to all intents and purposes, anything -he may say to the contrary notwithstanding. -And at what time before -the 26th is it so likely he should die, as -at the time by me predicted, viz., the -17th of October aforesaid? But if some -people will walk and be troublesome -after death, it may perhaps be borne -with a little, because it cannot well be -avoided, unless one would be at the -pains and expense of laying them in the -Red Sea; however, they should not presume -too much upon the liberty allowed -them. I know confinement must needs -be mighty irksome to the free spirit of -an astronomer, and I am too compassionate -to proceed suddenly to extremities -with it; nevertheless, tho’ I resolve -with reluctance, I shall not long defer, -if it does not speedily learn to treat its -living friends with better manners.</p> - -<p class="table"> -<span style="padding-left: 2em">“I am,</span><br /> -<span style="padding-left: 4em">“Courteous reader,</span><br /> -“Your obliged friend and servant,<br /> -<span class="author">“<span class="smcap">R. Saunders</span>.”</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">320</span></p> - -<p>Here for the nonce the jeu d’esprit -ended. In carrying the matter further -Franklin hardly showed the taste of -Bickerstaff. The active, bristling, self-assertive -ὕβρις which characterized his -early manhood led him further on to -stand over the very grave of Leeds. -Before he made his Almanac for 1740 -his competitor had died. But even -Leeds dead he seemed to deem fair play.</p> - -<p class="author">“October 7, 1739.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Courteous Reader</span>: You may remember -that in my first Almanack, published -for the year 1733, I predicted the -death of my dear friend, Titan Leeds, -Philomat, to happen that year on the -17th day of October, 3 h. 29 m. <small>P.M.</small> The -good man, it seems, died accordingly. -But W. B. and A. B.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">6</a> have continued -to publish Almanacks in his name ever -since; asserting for some years that he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">321</span> -was still living. At length when the -truth could no longer be concealed from -the world, they confessed his death in -their Almanack for 1739, but pretended -that he died not till last year, and that -before his departure he had furnished -them with calculations for 7 years to -come.—Ah, my friends, these are poor -shifts and thin disguises; of which -indeed I should have taken little or no -notice, if you had not at the same time -accused me as a false predictor; an -aspersion that the more affects me as my -whole livelyhood depends on a contrary -character.</p> - -<p>“But to put this matter beyond dispute, -I shall acquaint the world with a -fact, as strange and surprising as it is -true; being as follows, viz.:</p> - -<p>“On the 4th instant, toward midnight, -as I sat in my little study writing this -Preface, I fell fast asleep; and continued -in that condition for some time, -without dreaming any thing, to my -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">322</span> -knowledge. On awaking I found lying -before me the following, viz.:</p> - -<p>“‘<span class="smcap">Dear Friend Saunders</span>: My respect -for you continues even in this separate -state; and I am griev’d to see the -aspersions thrown on you by the malevolence -of avaricious publishers of Almanacks, -who envy your success. They say -your prediction of my death in 1733 was -false, and they pretend that I remained -alive many years after. But I do hereby -certify that I did actually die at that -time, precisely at the hour you mention’d, -with a variation only of 5 min. -53 sec, which must be allow’d to be no -great matter in such cases. And I do -further declare that I furnish’d them -with no calculations of the planets’ -motions, etc., seven years after my -death, as they are pleased to give out: -so that the stuff they publish as an Almanack -in my name is no more mine than -’tis yours.</p> - -<p>“‘You will wonder, perhaps, how this -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">323</span> -paper comes written on your table. You -must know that no separate spirits are -under any confinement till after the final -settlement of all accounts. In the meantime -we wander where we please, visit -our old friends, observe their actions, -enter sometimes into their imaginations, -and give them hints waking or sleeping -that may be of advantage to them. -Finding you asleep, I enter’d your left -nostril, ascended into your brain, found -out where the ends of those nerves were -fastened that move your right hand and -fingers, by the help of which I am now -writing unknown to you; but when you -open your eyes you will see that the -hand written is mine, tho’ wrote with -yours.</p> - -<p>“‘The people of this infidel age, perhaps, -will hardly believe this story. But -you may give them these three signs by -which they shall be convinced of the -truth of it.—About the middle of June -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">324</span> -next, J. J——n,<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">7</a> Philomat, shall be -openly reconciled to the Church of -Rome, and give all his goods and chattels -to the chappel, being perverted by -a certain country schoolmaster. On the -7th of September following my old -Friend W. B——t shall be sober 9 -hours, to the astonishment of all his -neighbours:—And about the same time -W. B. and A. B. will publish another -Almanack in my name, in spight of truth -and common sense.</p> - -<p>“‘As I can see much clearer into -futurity, since I got free from the dark -prison of flesh, in which I was continually -molested and almost blinded with -fogs arising from tiff, and the smoke of -burnt drams; I shall in kindness to you, -frequently give you information of -things to come, for the improvement of -your Almanack: being, Dear Dick, Your -Affectionate Friend,<br /> -<span class="author">“‘<span class="smcap">T. Leeds</span>.’</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">325</span></p> - -<p>“For my own part, I am convinced -that the above letter is genuine. If the -reader doubts of it, let him carefully -observe the three signs; and if they do -not actually come to pass, believe as he -pleases. I am his humble Friend,<br /> -<span class="author">“<span class="smcap">R. Saunders</span>.”</span></p> - -<p>In this wise ended Poor Richard’s -jest. Franklin’s style throughout is so -simple and direct that one is at first inclined -to scout the suggestion that the -joke is not entirely original. It is impossible, -however, to suppose that Franklin, -with his broad reading, did not know -Squire Bickerstaff’s. The development -of the humor is wholly imitated. But -Franklin made the method his own so -thoroughly that his wit has those keener, -subtler, more agile qualities which have -distinguished American from the slower -and sedater humor of the English. In -the Bickerstaff jocularity evidences of -the death of Partridge are enumerated -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">326</span> -in material surroundings of a not too -prosperous London quack. Franklin, on -the other hand, ironically and graphically -reasons upon supposititious traits -and qualities of character and breeding.</p> - -<p>In England, Swift’s squib having -given the death-blow to astrology, “Merlinus -Liberatus, by John Partridge,” -was published years after, but shorn of -its specious and misleading pretences. -Franklin’s jesting was more self-seeking.</p> - -<p>Not one of Franklin’s biographers or -editors has referred to the Bickerstaff -joke. Upon the contrary, in an “Introduction -to Fac-simile of Poor Richard’s -Almanack for 1733,” published by The -Duodecimos in 1894, it is asserted that -Franklin “in a strain of delightful satire -upon the already venerable pretensions -of almanac-makers to foretell the future, -... disposes of this difficulty by -a method so novel, so ingenious, and -withal of an illuminating power so far-reaching -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">327</span> -as to set the whole colony talking -about it.”</p> - -<p>It need hardly be added that none of -Swift’s biographers—all being English—have -hinted at Franklin’s pleasantry.</p> - -<p>The inextinguishable laughter—the -true Homeric ἄσβεστος γέλως—which is -the atmosphere of both incidents, fits -them to rank with the imaginary durance -of Sancho Panza upon his island, -or with Tartarin in Tarascon, or, to go -to the first humor of literature, with the -advance and retreat of Thersites in the -council of Zeus-nourished kings. And -in Britain and America all our heroes -were real.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Upon other occasions than the Saunders-Leeds -jesting Franklin loved playful -feint; he had “Bagatelles” for his -delight. It was a quizzical side of the -character which made him the first of -our notable American humorists. To -amuse himself with an oriental apologue -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">328</span> -which he called “The Parable of Persecution,” -he had the story bound with a -Bible. From this book he would read -the legend aloud, amazing his auditors -that so beautiful a scriptural passage -had escaped their knowledge.</p> - -<p>The form in which Franklin cast the -tale is this:</p> - -<p>“And it came to pass after these -things, that Abraham sat in the door of -his tent, about the going down of the -sun.</p> - -<p>“And behold a man, bowed with age, -came from the way of the wilderness, -leaning on a staff.</p> - -<p>“And Abraham arose and met him, -and said unto him, ‘Turn in, I pray -thee, and wash thy feet, and tarry all -night, and thou shalt arise early on the -morrow, and go thy way,’</p> - -<p>“But the man said, ‘Nay, for I will -abide under this tree.’</p> - -<p>“And Abraham pressed him greatly: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">329</span> -so he turned and they went into the tent, -and Abraham baked unleavened bread, -and they did eat.</p> - -<p>“And when Abraham saw that the -man blessed not God, he said unto him, -‘Wherefore dost thou not worship the -most high God, Creator of heaven and -earth?’</p> - -<p>“And the man answered and said, ‘I -do not worship the God thou speakest of, -neither do I call upon his name; for -I have made to myself a god, which -abideth alway in mine house, and provideth -me with all things.’</p> - -<p>“And Abraham’s zeal was kindled -against the man, and he arose and fell -upon him, and drove him forth with -blows into the wilderness.</p> - -<p>“And at midnight God called unto -Abraham, saying, ‘Abraham, where is -the stranger?’</p> - -<p>“And Abraham answered and said, -‘Lord, he would not worship thee, -neither would he call upon thy name; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">330</span> -therefore have I driven him out from -before my face into the wilderness.’</p> - -<p>“And God said, ‘Have I borne with -him these hundred and ninety and eight -years, and nourished him, and clothed -him, notwithstanding his rebellion -against me; and couldst not thou, that -art thyself a sinner, bear with him one -night?’</p> - -<p>“And Abraham said, ‘Let not the -anger of the Lord wax hot against his -servant; lo, I have sinned; lo, I have -sinned; forgive me, I pray thee.’</p> - -<p>“And Abraham arose, and went forth -into the wilderness, and sought diligently -for the man, and found him, and -returned with him to the tent; and -when he had treated him kindly, he -sent him away on the morrow with gifts.</p> - -<p>“And God spake again unto Abraham, -saying, ‘For this thy sin shall thy seed -be afflicted four hundred years in a -strange land.</p> - -<p>“‘But for thy repentance will I deliver -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">331</span> -them; and they shall come forth -with power, and with gladness of heart, -and with much substance.’”</p> - -<p>Franklin’s fine literary sense and feeling -would doubtless have told him that -the tale was oriental, even if Jeremy -Taylor, whose “Discourse on the Liberty -of Prophesying” it brings to a -finish, had not introduced it with the -words, “I end with a story which I find -in the Jews’ book.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">8</a></p> - -<p>“When Abraham sat at his tent-door, -according to his custom, waiting to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">332</span> -entertain strangers, he espied an old -man stooping and leaning on his staff, -weary with age and travail, coming -toward him, who was a hundred years of -age; he received him kindly, washed his -feet, provided supper, caused him to sit -down; but, observing that the old man -eat and prayed not, nor begged for a -blessing on his meat, he asked him why -he did not worship the God of heaven. -The old man told him that he worshipped -the fire only, and acknowledged no other -god. At which answer Abraham grew -so zealously angry that he thrust the old -man out of his tent, and exposed him to -all the evils of the night and an unguarded -condition. When the old man -was gone, God called to Abraham, and -asked him where the stranger was. He -replied, ‘I thrust him away because he -did not worship thee.’ God answered -him, ‘I have suffered him these hundred -years, although he dishonoured me; and -couldst not thou endure him one night, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">333</span> -when he gave thee no trouble?’ Upon -this saith the story, Abraham fetched -him back again, and gave him hospitable -entertainment and wise instruction. Go -thou and do likewise, and thy charity -will be rewarded by the God of Abraham.”</p> - -<p>Franklin’s pleasantries with this parable -led Lord Kames to ask it of him. -The fertile Scotchman at once incorporated -it in his “Sketches of the History -of Man,” and published it in 1774, -accrediting it to Franklin. “The charge -of plagiarism has, on this account,” says -Bishop Heber, in his life of Jeremy -Taylor, “been raised against Franklin; -though he cannot be proved to have -given it to Lord Kames as his own composition. -With all Franklin’s abilities -and amiable qualities,” continues the -clear-eyed bishop, “there was a degree -of quackery in his character which ... -has made the imputation of such a theft -more readily received against him than -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">334</span> -it would have been against most other -men of equal eminence.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In more finely sensitive writers who -have treated Franklin there is a feeling -that he “borrowed.” The words of the -missionary bishop show the sentiment -was common in England a century and -a quarter ago. In our country the conviction -was expressed with more spirit -in a colloquy<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> between a New England -man and a Virginian, preserved -in John Davis’s manuscript, “Travels -in America during 1798-99, 1800, 1801, -1802.”</p> - -<p>“I obtained,” wrote Davis of his visit -to Washington, “accommodations at the -Washington Tavern, which stands opposite -the Treasury. At this tavern I -took my meals at the public table, where -there was every day to be found a number -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">335</span> -of clerks, employed at the different -offices under government, together with -about half-a-dozen Virginians and a few -New England men. There was a perpetual -conflict between these Southern -and Northern men, and one night I was -present at a vehement dispute, which -terminated in the loss of a horse, a saddle, -and bridle. The dispute was about -Dr. Franklin; the man from New England, -enthusiastic in what related to -Franklin, asserted that the Doctor, being -self-taught, was original in everything -that he had ever published.</p> - -<p>“The Virginian maintained that he -was a downright plagiarist.</p> - -<p>“<i>New England Man.</i>—Have you a -horse here, my friend?</p> - -<p>“<i>Virginian.</i>—Sir, I hope you do not -suppose that I came hither on foot from -Virginia. I have him in Mr. White’s -stable, the prettiest Chickasaw that ever -trod upon four pasterns.</p> - -<p>“<i>New England Man.</i>—And I have a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">336</span> -bay mare that I bought for ninety dollars -in hard cash. Now I, my friend, -will lay my bay mare against your Chickasaw -that Dr. Franklin is not a plagiarist.</p> - -<p>“<i>Virginian.</i>—Done! Go it! Waiter! -You, waiter!</p> - -<p>“The waiter obeyed the summons, -and, at the order of the Virginian, -brought down a portmanteau containing -both Franklin’s ‘Miscellanies’ and -Taylor’s ‘Discourses.’</p> - -<p>“The New England man then read -from the former the celebrated parable -against persecution.... And after he -had finished he exclaimed that the -‘writer appeared inspired.’</p> - -<p>“But the Virginian maintained that it -all came to Franklin from Bishop Taylor’s -book, printed more than a century -ago. And the New England man read -from Taylor.... When he had done -reading, a laugh ensued; and the Virginian, -leaping from his seat, called to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">337</span> -Atticus, the waiter, to put the bay mare -in the next stall to the Chickasaw and -to give her half a gallon of oats more, -upon the strength of her having a new -master!</p> - -<p>“The New England man exhibited -strong symptoms of chagrin, but wagered -‘a brand-new saddle’ that this -celebrated epitaph of Franklin’s undergoing -a new edition was original. The -epitaph was then read:</p> - -<p class="caption"> -‘The Body<br /> -of<br /> -Benjamin Franklin, Printer<br /> -(Like the cover of an old book,<br /> -Its contents torn out,<br /> -And stript of its lettering and gilding),<br /> -Lies here, food for worms.<br /> -Yet the work itself shall not be lost,<br /> -For it will (as he believ’d) appear once more,<br /> -In a new<br /> -And more beautiful Edition,<br /> -Corrected and Amended<br /> -By<br /> -The Author.’<br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">338</span></p> - -<p>“The Virginian then said that Franklin -robbed a little boy of it. ‘The very -words, sir, are taken from a Latin epitaph -written on a bookseller, by an Eton -scholar.</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">‘Vitæ <i>volumine</i> peracto<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hic <span class="smcap">Finis Jacobi Tonson</span><a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">10</a><br /></span> -<span class="i1">Perpoliti Sociorum Principis:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Qui velut Obstretrix Musarum<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>In Lucem Edidit</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4">Felices Ingenii Partus.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lugete Scriptorum Chorus,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Et Frangite Calamos!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ille vester <i>Margine Erasus deletur</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sed hæc postrema Inscriptio<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Huic <i>Primæ</i> Mortis <i>Paginæ</i><br /></span> -<span class="i12">Imprimatur,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ne <i>Prælo Sepulchri</i> commissus<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ipse <i>Editor careat Titulo</i>:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Hic Jacet <i>Bibliopola</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Folio</i> vitæ delapso<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Expectans <i>novam Editionem</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Auctoriem et Emendatiorem.’<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">339</span></p> - -<p>“And then, says Mr. Davis, the bet -was awarded the Virginian. He referred -to the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine’ -for February, 1736, where the Latin -inscription accredited to the Eton -scholar, with a translation by a Mr. -P——, was to be found.</p> - -<p>“After this second decision the Virginian -declared that he would lay his -boots against the New Englander’s that -Franklin’s pretended discovery of calming -troubled waters by pouring upon -them oil might be found in the third -book of Bede’s ‘History of the Church;’ -or that his facetious essay on the air-bath -is produced, word for word, from -Aubrey’s ‘Miscellanies.’ But the New -Englander, who had lost horse, saddle, -and bridle, declined to run the risk on -Dr. Franklin of going home without his -boots.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There are other instances of the -philosopher’s palpable taking. To one, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">340</span> -Franklin’s editor, Mr. Bigelow, adverts -when he notes in Franklin’s letter of -November 5, 1789, to Alexander Smith: -“I find by your letter that every man -has patience enough to hear calmly and -coolly the injuries done to other people.” -The marvellous precision and terseness -of Swift—that keen, incisive melancholy -wit of his from which great writers have -taken ideas and phrases as gold-seekers -have picked nuggets from California -earth—Swift had more finely said what -Franklin stumbled after when he wrote -that he “never knew a man who could -not bear the misfortunes of another like -a Christian.”</p> - -<p>Franklin had originality. His many -devices are evidence. But careful study -of that which brought him much public -attention—bagatelles by which he attached -himself to popular affection—show -all-round appropriation. He -loved to stand in public light—to hear -applause of himself. He loved to quiz -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">341</span> -his listeners, to bamboozle his readers. -If his buying and applauding public -believed Poor Richard’s proverbs -sprang from his active mind instead of -having been industriously gathered from -old English and other folk proverbs and -dyed with his practical humor—“the -wisdom of many ages and nations,” as -Franklin afterwards put it—that was -their blunder by which he would gain -gold as well as glory. Even “Richard -Saunders” was not original with Franklin. -It was the pen-name of a compiler -of English almanacs. The young -printer busily working his press doubtless -chuckled at his deceptions—in spite -of his filched maxim about honesty being -the best policy.</p> - -<p>And it went with him all through life. -His love of public applause, his desire -to accumulate and his gleaming, quizzical -humor led him on. His wonderful -ease at adopting others’ products and -making them his own one may admire -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">342</span> -if he turn his eyes from the moral significance, -the downright turpitude of -not acknowledging the source. Franklin’s -practice would certainly not stand -the test of universal application which -his great contemporary, Kant, demanded -of all acts.</p> - -<p>There has been of late endeavor to -rehabilitate Franklin’s industrious common -sense and praise its circumstance. -So late as last year our American ambassador -to St. James addressed students -of the Workingmen’s College in -London upon the energy, self-help, and -sense of reality of this early American, -and found the leading features of his -character to be honesty (!) and respect -for facts.</p> - -<p>It is, after all, a certain grace inherent -in Franklin, a human feeling, a -genial simplicity and candor, a directness -of utterance and natural unfolding -of his matter which are his perennial -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">343</span> -value in a literary way, and which warrant -the estimate of an English critic -who calls him the most readable writer -yet known on the western side of the -Atlantic.</p> - -<p class="caption">THE END</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h2 id="FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES:</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">1</a> -I include “women” because Lucy Stone once -told me she draughted some of the Kansas laws for -married women while sitting in the nursery with -her baby on her knee. Other women worked with -her, she said. Their labor was in the fifties of the -nineteenth century—at the height of the movement -to ameliorate the legal condition of married -women.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">2</a> -Other societies also have vitality. The sortie -of a handful of students one November night following -election, a dinner each year celebrates. -Grangers supposedly inimical to the interests of -the University had won at the polls. The moon -shone through a white, frosty air; the earth was -hard and resonant. What the skulkers accomplished -and the merry and hortative sequent to -their furtive feast were told at the time by the -beloved professor of Latin, the “professoris -alicujus.”</p> - -<p class="caption">“T. C.’S” HORRIBILES.</p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Jam noctis media hora. In cœlo nubila spissa<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stellas abstulerant. Umbrarum tempus erat quo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Horrenda ignavis monstra apparent. Pueri tum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Parvi matribus intus adhærent. Non gratiorem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Noctem fur unquam invenit. Sed qui veniunt post<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hanc ædem veterem? Celebrantne aliqua horrida sacra<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mercurio furum patrono? Discipuline?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Non possunt! Tuti in lectis omnes requiescunt!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Estne sodalicium studiosorum relevans se<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Magnis a curis? Sed cur huc conveniunt tam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Furtivi? In manibus quidnam est vel sub tegumentis?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O pudor! Et pullos et turkey non bene raptos!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vina etiam subrepta professoris alicujus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Horresco referens) e cella! Dedecus! Est nil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tutum a furibus? En pullos nunc faucibus illis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sorbent! Nunc sunt in terra, tum in ictu oculi non<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Apparebunt omne in æternum! Miseros pullos,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Infelices O pueros! Illi male capti<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pueris, sed hi capientur mox male (O! O!!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Plutone atro!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forsan lapsis quinque diebus, cum sapiens vir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Omnes hos juvenes ad cenam magnificenter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Invitavit. Tempore sane adsunt. Bene laeti<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Judex accipiunt et filia pulchra sodales<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hos furtivos. Ad mensam veniunt. Juvenes cur<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tam agitantur? Quid portentum conspiciunt nunc?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Protrudunt oculi quasi ranarum! Nihil est in<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mensa præter turkeys! Unus quoque catino!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Solum hoc, præterea nil!<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">3</a> -The translation is that of C. D. Yonge.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">4</a> -The ancient classic and early English writers -afforded many instances of their people’s culinaria, -and only when their content became familiar did -I find that the Rev. Richard Warner had, in the -last part of the eighteenth century, gone over the -ground and chosen like examples—perhaps because -they were the best. This quotation, and another -one or two following, are solely found in our -libraries in his admirable book here cited. Master -Warner, writing nearer the old sources, had the -advantage of original manuscripts and collections.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">5</a></p> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Tusser, they tell me, when thou wert alive,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Thou, teaching thrift, thyselfe could’st never thrive.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">6</a> -The printers, William and Andrew Bradford.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">7</a> -John Jerman.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">8</a> -“The Jews’ book” is, according to various -researches, believed to be “The Rod of Judah,” a -rabbinical work presented to the Senate of Hamburg -in the seventeenth century, and carrying the -legend in its Latin dedication. But the tale -really dates back to the “Bostan,” or “Tree Garden,” -of the Persian poet Saadi, who says, in -another work, that he was a prisoner to the Crusaders, -and labored in company with fellow-captives -who were Jews in the trenches before -Tripoli.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">9</a> -Used through the courtesy of the editor of -“The William and Mary College Quarterly.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">10</a> -This Jacob Tonson will be recalled as the chief -bookseller (publisher) in London for some years -prior to his death, 2 April, 1736.</p></div> -</div> - -<div class="transnote"> -<h3>Transcriber’s Note:</h3> - -<p>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of American Thumb-prints, by Kate Stephens - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN THUMB-PRINTS *** - -***** This file should be named 55065-h.htm or 55065-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/0/6/55065/ - -Produced by Wayne Hammond and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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