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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7013-8.txt b/7013-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff6fe71 --- /dev/null +++ b/7013-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14523 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Journeys Through Bookland +Volume Four +by Charles H. Sylvester + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!**** + + +Title: Journeys Through Bookland +Volume Four + +Author: Charles H. Sylvester + +Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7013] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 22, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND V4 *** + + + + +Produced by William Koven, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + +JOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND + +A New and Original Plan For Reading Applied To The World's Best +Literature For Children + +BY + +CHARLES H. SYLVESTER +Author of English and American Literature + +VOLUME FOUR + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BETTER THAN GOLD ......................................... Father Ryan + +My HEART LEAPS UP.................................. William Wordsworth + +THE BAREFOOT BOY ............................. John Greenleaf Whittier + +RAIN ON THE ROOF ....................................... Coates Kinney + +CID CAMPEADOR + +ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG ..................... Oliver Goldsmith + +MOTHER'S WAY ............................................. Father Ryan + +SONG OF THE BROOK .................................... Alfred Tennyson + +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ........................... Grace E. Sellon + +FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS ....................... Henry Wadsworth Longfellow + +To H. W. L. ..................................... James Russell Lowell + +THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH .................... Henry Wadsworth Longfellow + +THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS ................. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow + +A DOG OF FLANDERS ................................. Louise de la Ramee + +ALICE AND PHOEBE CARY ................................... Anna McCaleb + +NEARER HOME .............................................. Phoebe Cary + +PICTURES OF MEMORY ........................................ Alice Cary + +THE ESCAPE FROM PRISON ........................... Sir Samuel W. Baker + +STORIES OF THE CREATION + +THE DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN ........................ Cardinal Newman + +THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER .................................. Alexander Pope + +INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP .......................... Robert Browning + +NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE .................................. Grace E. Sellon + +THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS........................... Nathaniel Hawthorne + +LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND .. Felicia Browne Hemans + +THE SUNKEN TREASURE .............................. Nathaniel Hawthorne + +THE HUTCHINSON MOB ............................... Nathaniel Hawthorne + +THE BOSTON MASSACRE .............................. Nathaniel Hawthorne + +SHERIDAN'S RIDE ................................. Thomas Buchanan Read + +JOAN OF ARC ........................................ Thomas de Quincey + +PANCRATIUS .......................................... Cardinal Wiseman + +ALFRED THE GREAT ..................................... Charles Dickens + +THE BURIAL OF MOSES .......................... Cecil Frances Alexander + +BERNARDO DEL CARPIO ................................... Felicia Hemans + +DAVID + +CHEVY-CHASE ........................................... Richard Sheale + +THE ATTACK ON THE CASTLE ............................ Sir Walter Scott + +THE DEATH OF HECTOR ............................... From Homer's Iliad + +THE WOODEN HORSE ................................ From Vergil's Aeneid + +JOHN BUNYAN + +THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS ................................... John Bunyan + +AWAY ............................................ James Whitcomb Riley + +LITTLE GIFFIN OF TENNESSEE + +LITTLE BREECHES ............................................. John Hay + +THE YARN OF THE "NANCY BELL" ........................... W. S. Gilbert + +KATEY'S LETTER ......................................... Lady Dufferin + +THE ARICKARA INDIANS ............................... Washington Irving + + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +REBECCA AT THE WINDOW (Color Plate) Louis Grell + +THE BAREFOOT BOY Iris Weddell White + +RAIN ON THE ROOF Lucille Enders + +RODRIGO AND THE LEPER Donn P. Crane + +MARTIN PELAEZ SLEW A GOOD KNIGHT Donn P. Crane + +ALVAR FANEZ WENT His WAY TO CASTILL Donn P. Crane + +THE DEFEAT OF ALMOFALEZ Donn P. Crane + +THEY WENT OUT FROM VALENCIA AT MIDNIGHT Donn P. Crane + +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW (Halftone) + +HOME OF LONGFELLOW AT CAMBRIDGE (Halftone) + +THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH Herbert N. Rudeen + +HE BOUND HER TO THE MAST G. H. Mitchell + +RESCUE OF PATRASCHE Holling Clancy + +NELLO AND PATRASCHE Holling Clancy + +NELLO LEFT HIS PICTURE AT THE DOOR Holling Clancy + +ALICE CARY (Halftone) + +IN THAT DIM OLD FOREST Mildred Lyon + +ANCHOR Louis Grell + +HE SLIPPED A GUINEA INTO HER HAND Louis Grell + +HE WRENCHED THE BAR ASUNDER Louis Grell + +LEONTINE Louis Grell + +"WE'VE GOT YOU RATISBON!" Herbert N. Rudeen + +HAWTHORNE'S WAYSIDE (Halftone) + +HANDFUL AFTER HANDFUL WAS THROWN IN Mildred Lyon + +UP CAME TREASURE IN ABUNDANCE Herbert N. Rudeen + +"FATHER, DO YOU NOT HEAR?" Herbert N. Rudeen + +THE RIOTERS BROKE INTO THE HOUSE Herbert N. Rudeen + +NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE (Halftone) + +THE SOLDIERS FIRED Herbert N. Rudeen + +THE STEED SWEPT ON Herbert N. Rudeen + +JOAN OF ARC (Halftone) + +ALFRED ALLOWS THE CAKES TO BURN Louis Grell + +DAVID MEETS GOLIATH Louis Grell + +SAUL SOUGHT TO SMITE DAVID Louis Grell + +JONATHAN SHOOTS THE ARROWS Louis Grell + +DAVID AND JONATHAN Louis Grell + +THE MAN RUNNETH ALONE Louis Grell + +"IS THE YOUNG MAN, ABSALOM, SAFE?" Louis Grell + +IVANHOE WAS IMPATIENT AT HIS INACTIVITY Louis Grell + +THE BLACK KNIGHT AT THE GATE OF THE CASTLE Louis Grell + +ULRICA LOCKS THE DOOR Louis Grell + +BEFORE HIS BREAST THE FLAMING SHIELD HE BEARS Roy Appel + +THE WOODEN HORSE Roy Appel + +LAOCOÖN (Halftone) + +ULYSSES OUTWITTED THE CYCLOPS Arthur Henderson + +ULYSSES GAVE THE ARROW WING Arthur Henderson + +JOHN BUNYAN (Halftone) + +HE LOOKED NOT BEHIND HIM Donn P. Crane + +IN THE SLOUGH OR DESPOND Donn P. Crane + +THE FIGHT WITH APOLLYON Donn P. Crane + +IN DOUBTING CASTLE Donn P. Crane + +THE CELESTIAL CITY Donn P. Crane + +WENT TEAM, LITTLE BREECHES, AND ALL Herbert N. Rudeen + +"FOR DON'T YOU SEE THAT YOU CAN'T COOK ME?" Herbert N. Rudeen + +TRADING FOR HORSES R. F. Babcock + +RETURN OF THE WARRIORS R. F. Babcock + + + + +BETTER THAN GOLD + + + Better than grandeur, better than gold, + Than rank and titles a thousand fold, + Is a healthy body, a mind at ease, + And simple pleasures' that always please. + A heart that can feel for another's woe, + And share his joys with a genial glow, + With sympathies large enough to enfold + All men as brothers, is better than gold. + + Better than gold is a conscience clear, + Though toiling for bread in an humble sphere, + Doubly blessed with content and health, + Untried by the lusts and cares of wealth, + Lowly living and lofty thought + Adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot; + For mind and morals in nature's plan + Are the genuine tests of a gentleman. + + Better than gold is the sweet repose + Of the sons of toil when the labors close; + Better than gold is the poor man's sleep, + And the balm that drops on his slumbers deep. + Bring sleeping draughts to the downy bed, + Where luxury pillows its aching head, + The toiler simple opiate deems + A shorter route to the land of dreams. + + Better than gold is a thinking mind, + That in the realm of books can find + A treasure surpassing Australian ore, + And live with the great and good of yore. + The sage's lore and the poet's lay, + The glories of empires passed away; + The world's great drama will thus unfold + And yield a pleasure better than gold. + + Better than gold is a peaceful home + Where all the fireside characters come, + The shrine of love, the heaven of life, + Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife. + However humble the home may be, + Or tried with sorrow by heaven's decree, + The blessings that never were bought or sold, + And center there, are better than gold. + + + + +MY HEART LEAPS UP + +_By_ WILLIAM WORDSWORTH + + + + My heart leaps up when I behold + A rainbow in the sky; + So was it when my life began; + So is it now I am a man; + So be it when I shall grow old, + Or let me die! + The Child is father of the Man; + And I could wish my days to be + Bound each to each by natural piety. + + + + +THE BAREFOOT BOY + +_By_ JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER + + +Blessings on thee, little man, +Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! +With thy turned-up pantaloons, +And thy merry whistled tunes; +With thy red lip, redder still +Kissed by strawberries on the hill; +With the sunshine on thy face, +Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; +From my heart I give thee joy,-- +I was once a barefoot boy! +Prince thou art,--the grown-up man +Only is republican. +Let the million-dollared ride! +Barefoot, trudging at his side, +Thou hast more than he can buy +In the reach of ear and eye,-- +Outward sunshine, inward joy; +Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! + + O for boyhood's painless play, +Sleep that wakes in laughing day, +Health that mocks the doctor's rules, +Knowledge never learned of schools, +Of the wild bee's morning chase, +Of the wild flower's time and place, +Flight of fowl and habitude +Of the tenants of the wood; +How the tortoise bears his shell, +How the woodchuck digs his cell, +And the ground-mole sinks his well; +How the robin feeds her young, +How the oriole's nest is hung; +Where the whitest lilies blow, +Where the freshest berries blow, +Where the ground-nut trails its vine, +Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; +Of the black wasp's cunning way, +Mason of his walls of clay, +And the architectural plans +Of gray hornet artisans! +For, eschewing books and tasks +Nature answers all he asks; + +Hand in hand with her he walks, +Face to face with her he talks, +Part and parcel of her joy,-- +Blessings on the barefoot boy! + + O for boyhood's time of June, +Crowding years in one brief moon, +When all things I heard or saw, +Me, their master, waited for. +I was rich in flowers and trees, +Humming-birds and honey-bees; +For my sport the squirrel played, +Plied the snouted mole his spade; +For my taste the blackberry cone +Purpled over hedge and stone; +Laughed the brook for my delight +Through the day and through the night,-- +Whispering at the garden wall, +Talked with me from fall to fall; +Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, +Mine the walnut slopes beyond, +Mine, on bending orchard trees, +Apples of Hesperides! +Still as my horizon grew, +Larger grew my riches too; +All the world I saw or knew +Seemed a complex Chinese toy, +Fashioned for a barefoot boy! + + O for festal dainties spread, +Like my bowl of milk and bread; +Pewter spoon and bowl of wood, +On the door-stone, gray and rude! +O'er me, like a regal tent, +Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, +Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, +Looped in many a wind-swung fold; +While for music came the play +Of the pied frogs' orchestra; +And, to light the noisy choir, +Lit the fly his lamp of fire. +I was monarch: pomp and joy +Waited on the barefoot boy! + + Cheerily, then, my little man, +Live and laugh, as boyhood can! +Though the flinty slopes be hard, +Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, +Every morn shall lead thee through +Fresh baptisms of the dew; +Every evening from they feet +Shall the cool wind kiss the heat; +All too soon these feet must hide +In the prison cells of pride, +Lose the freedom of the sod, +Like a colt's for work be shod, +Made to tread the mills of toil +Up and down in ceaseless moil: +Happy if their track be found +Never on forbidden ground; +Happy if they sink not in +Quick and treacherous sands of sin. +Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy, +Ere it passes, barefoot boy! + + + +RAIN ON THE ROOF +[Footnote: Coates Kinney, born in New York in 1826, gives this account +of the way in which the song came to be written: "The verses were +written when I was about twenty years of age, as nearly as I can +remember. They were inspired close to the rafters of a little story- +and-a-half frame house. The language, as first published, was not +composed, it came. I had just a little more to do with it than I had +to do with the coming of the rain. This poem, in its entirety, came +to me and asked me to put it down, the next afternoon, in the course +of a solitary and aimless wandering through a summer wood."] + + +When the humid showers hover + Over all the starry spheres +And the melancholy darkness + Gently weeps in rainy tears, +What a bliss to press the pillow + Of a cottage-chamber bed, +And to listen to the patter + Of the soft rain overhead! + +Every tinkle on the shingles. + Has an echo in the heart: +And a thousand dreamy fancies + Into busy being start, +And a thousand recollections + Weave their air-threads into woof, +As I listen to the patter + Of the rain upon the roof. + +Now in memory comes my mother, + As she was long years agone, +To regard the darling dreamers + Ere she left them till the dawn: +O! I see her leaning o'er me, + As I list to this refrain +Which is played upon the shingles + By the patter of the rain. + +Then my little seraph sister, + With her wings and waving hair, +And her star-eyed cherub brother-- + A serene, angelic pair!-- +Glide around my wakeful pillow, + With their praise or mild reproof, +As I listen to the murmur + Of the soft rain on the roof. + + +Art hath naught of tone or cadence + That can work with such a spell +In the soul's mysterious fountains, + Whence the tears of rapture well, +As that melody of Nature, + That subdued, subduing strain +Which is played upon the shingles + By the patter of the rain. + + + + +CID CAMPEADOR + +INTRODUCTION + + +The national hero of Spain is universally known as the Cid, and around +his name have gathered tales as marvelous as those of King Arthur and +his Knights of the Round Table. Some historians have doubted the +existence of the Cid, while others, whom we may prefer to believe, give +him a distinct place in history. According to the latter, he was a +descendant of one of the noblest families of Castile, and as early as +1064 his name is mentioned as that of a great warrior. So far as we are +concerned, we need not discuss the matter, for it is our purpose to see +him as a great hero whose name stood for honor and bravery, and whose +influence upon the youth of Spain has been wonderful. Accordingly, we +must know the Cid as he appears in song and story rather than as he is +known in history. + +There are several prose chronicles in Spanish, which tell the story of +the Cid, and numberless poems and legends. The English poet, Robert +Southey, has given us the best translation of these, and from his +famous work, _Chronicle of the Cid_, we take the selections which are +printed in this volume. According to the Spanish accounts, Rodrigo +was born in 1026 in Burgos, the son of Diego Laynez, who was then the +head of the house of Layn Calvo. As a youth he was strong in arms and +of high repute among his friends, for he early bestirred himself to +protect the land from the Moors. + +While Rodrigo was still in his early youth, his father was grievously +insulted and struck in the face by Count Don Gomez. Diego was a man so +old that his strength had passed from him, and he could not take +vengeance, but retired to his home to dwell in solitude and lament over +his dishonor. He took no pleasure in his food, neither could he sleep +by night nor would he lift up his eyes from the ground, nor stir out of +his house, nor commune with his friends, but turned from them in +silence as if the breath of his shame would taint them. The Count was a +mighty man in arms and so powerful that he had a thousand friends among +the mountains. Rodrigo, young as he was, considered this power as +nothing when he thought of the wrong done to his father, and determined +to take his own revenge. His father, seeing of how good heart he was, +gave him his sword and his blessing. Rodrigo went out, defied the +Count, fought with and killed him, and cutting off his head carried it +home. The old man was sitting at table, the food lying before him +untasted, when Rodrigo returned, and, pointing to the head which hung +from the horse's collar, dropping blood, bade him look up, saying, +"Here is the herb which will restore to you your appetite. The tongue +which insulted you is no longer a tongue, the hand no longer a hand." +Then the old man arose, embraced his son and placed him above him at +the table, saying, "The man who brought home that head must be the head +of the house of Layn Calvo." + +At about this time, the king, Don Ferrando, who honors upon Rodrigo for +his success against the Moors, called him to aid against the King of +Aragon, who claimed the city of Calahorra, but had consented to let the +ownership of the city rest upon a trial by combat between two of their +greatest knights. The King of Aragon chose Don Martin Gonzalez, and Don +Ferrando, Rodrigo. The latter was well pleased at the prospect of the +battle, but before the day of the combat he started on a pilgrimage, +which he had previously vowed. + +[Illustration: RODRIGO AND THE LEPER] + +"Rodrigo forthwith set out upon the road, and took with him twenty +knights. And as he went he did great good, and gave alms, feeding the +poor and needy. And upon the way they found a leper, struggling in a +quagmire, who cried out to them with a loud voice to help him for the +love of God; and when Rodrigo heard this, he alighted from his beast +and helped him, and placed him upon the beast before him, and carried +him with him in this manner to the inn where he took up his lodging +that night. At this were his knights little pleased. And when supper +was ready he bade his knights take their seats, and he took the leper +by the hand, and seated him next himself, and ate with him out of the +same dish. The knights were greatly offended at this foul sight, +insomuch that they rose up and left the chamber. But Rodrigo ordered a +bed to be made ready for himself and for the leper, and they twain +slept together. When it was midnight and Rodrigo was fast asleep, the +leper breathed against him between his shoulders, and that breath was +so strong that it passed through him, even through his breast; and he +awoke, being astounded, and felt for the leper by him, and found him +not; and he began to call him, but there was no reply. Then he arose in +fear, and called for light, and it was brought him; and he looked for +the leper and could see nothing; so he returned into the bed, leaving +the light burning. And he began to think within himself what had +happened, and of that breath which had passed through him, and how the +leper was not there. After a while, as he was thus musing, there +appeared before him one in white garments, who said unto him, 'Sleepest +thou or wakest thou, Rodrigo?' and he answered and said, 'I do not +sleep: but who art thou that bringest with thee such brightness and so +sweet an odour?' Then said he, 'I am Saint Lazarus, and know that I was +a leper to whom thou didst so much good and so great honour for the +love of God; and because thou didst this for His sake hath God now +granted thee a great gift; for whensoever that breath which thou hast +felt shall come upon thee, whatever thing thou desirest to do, and +shalt then begin, that shalt thou accomplish to thy heart's desire, +whether it be in battle or aught else, so that thy honour shall go on +increasing from day to day; and thou shalt be feared both by Moors and +Christians, and thy enemies shall never prevail against thee, and thou +shalt die an honourable death in thine own house, and in thy renown, +for God hath blessed thee,--therefore go thou on, and evermore +persevere in doing good;' and with that he disappeared. And Rodrigo +arose and prayed to our lady and intercessor St. Mary, that she would +pray to her blessed son for him to watch over both his body and soul in +all his undertakings; and he continued in prayer till the day broke. +Then he proceeded on his way, and performed his pilgrimage, doing much +good for the love of God and of St. Mary." + +Rodrigo was successful in his combat against Martin Gonzalez, and after +the death of the latter rose much higher in esteem with King Ferrando. +At no time was Rodrigo unworthy of his confidence, so that finally the +king knighted him after this manner: The king girded on his sword and +gave him the kiss, but not the blow. Usually this blow was given with +the hand upon the neck, at which time the king said, "Awake, and sleep +not in the affairs of knighthood." The king omitted this, knowing that +Rodrigo needed no such command. To do the new knight more honour, the +queen gave him his horse and her daughter fastened on his spurs. From +that day he was called Ruydiez. Ruy is merely an abbreviation of +Rodrigo, and Ruydiez means Rodrigo the son of Diego. Thereafter the +king commanded him to knight nine noble squires with his own hand, and +he took his sword before the altar and knighted them. + +It was soon after this that there came to the king messengers from the +Moors, whom Ruydiez had overpowered, all bringing him tribute and +praising the generous treatment he had accorded them after his victory. +At the same time they called him _Cid_, which meant _lord_, and from +this time on by the king's orders Ruydiez vas called _The Cid_, because +the Moors had so named him. To this name is added the word _Campeador_, +which means _The Conqueror_. + +The remaining incidents from the life of The Cid are taken directly +from Southey's _Chronicle of the Cid_. + + +THE CID MAKES A BRAVE MAN OF A COWARD + +Here the history relates that Martin Pelaez, the Asturian, came with a +convoy of laden beasts, carrying provisions to the host of the Cid; and +as he passed near the town the Moors sallied out in great numbers +against him; but he, though he had few with him, defended the convoy +right well, and did great hurt to the Moors, slaying many of them, and +drove them into the town. This Martin Pelaez, who is here spoken of, +did the Cid make a right good knight of a coward, as ye shall hear. + +When the Cid first began to lay siege to the city of Valencia, this +Martin Pelaez came unto him; he was a knight, a native of Santillana in +Asturias, a hidalgo, great of body and strong of limb, a well-made man +of goodly semblance, but withal a right coward at heart, which he had +shown in many places when he was among feats of arms. And the Cid was +sorry when he came unto him, though he would not let him perceive this; +for he knew he was not fit to be of his company. Howbeit he thought +that since he was come, he would make him brave, whether he would or +not. + +And when the Cid began to war upon the town, and sent parties against +it twice and thrice a day, as ye have heard, for the Cid was alway upon +the alert, there was fighting and tourneying every day. One day it fell +out that the Cid and his kinsmen and friends and vassals were engaged +in a great encounter, and this Martin Pelaez was well armed; and when +he saw that the Moors and Christians were at it, he fled and betook +himself to his lodging, and there hid himself till the Cid returned to +dinner. And the Cid saw what Martin Pelaez did, and when he had +conquered the Moors he returned to his lodging to dinner. + +Now it was the custom of the Cid to eat at a high table, seated on his +bench, at the head. And Don Alvar Fañez, and Pero Bermudez, and other +precious knights, ate in another part, at high tables, full honourably, +and none other knights whatsoever dared take their seats with them, +unless they were such as deserved to be there; and the others who were +not so approved in arms ate upon estrados, at tables with cushions. +This was the order in the house of the Cid, and every one knew the +place where he was to sit at meat, and every one strove all he could to +gain the honour of sitting to eat at the table of Don Alvar Fañez and +his companions, by strenuously behaving himself in all feats of arms; +and thus the honour of the Cid was advanced. This Martin Pelaez, +thinking that none had seen his badness, washed his hands in turn with +the other knights, and would have taken his place among them. + +And the Cid went unto him, and took him by the hand and said, "You are +not such a one as deserves to sit with these, for they are worth more +than you or than me; but I will have you with me:" and he seated him +with himself at table. + +And he, for lack of understanding, thought that the Cid did this to +honour him above all the others. + +On the morrow the Cid and his company rode towards Valencia, and the +Moors came out to the tourney; and Martin Pelaez went out well armed, +and was among the foremost who charged the Moors, and when he was in +among them he turned the reins, and went back to his lodging; and the +Cid took heed to all that he did, and saw that though he had done badly +he had done better than the first day. + +And when the Cid had driven the Moors into the town he returned to his +lodging, and as he sat down to meat he took this Martin Pelaez by the +hand, and seated him with himself, and bade him eat with him in the +same dish, for he had deserved more that day than he had the first. + +And the knight gave heed to that saying, and was abashed; howbeit he +did as the Cid commanded him; and after he had dined he went to his +lodging and began to think upon what the Cid had said unto him, and +perceived that he had seen all the baseness which he had done; and then +he understood that for this cause he would not let him sit at board +with the other knights who were precious in arms, but had seated him +with himself, more to affront him than to do him honour, for there were +other knights there better than he, and he did not show them that +honour. Then resolved he in his heart to do better than he had done +heretofore. + +Another day the Cid and his company and Martin Pelaez rode toward +Valencia, and the Moors came out to the tourney full resolutely, and +Martin Pelaez was among the first, and charged them right boldly; and +he smote down and slew presently a good knight, and he lost there all +the bad fear which he had had, and was that day one of the best knights +there; and as long as the tourney lasted there he remained, smiting and +slaying and overthrowing the Moors, till they were driven within the +gates, in such manner that the Moors marveled at him, and asked where +that devil came from, for they had never seen him before. + +And the Cid was in a place where he could see all that was going on, +and he gave good heed to him, and had great pleasure in beholding him, +to see how well he had forgotten the great fear which he was wont to +have. And when the Moors were shut up within the town, the Cid and all +his people returned to their lodging, and Martin Pelaez full leisurely +and quietly went to his lodging also, like a good knight. + +[Illustration: MARTIN PELAEZ SLEW A GOOD KNIGHT] + +And when it was the hour of eating, the Cid waited for Martin Pelaez; +and when he came, and they had washed, the Cid took him by the hand and +said, "My friend, you are not such a one as deserves to sit with me +from henceforth, but sit you here with Don Alvar Fañez, and with these +other good knights, for the good feats which you have done this day +have made you a companion for them"; and from that day forward he was +placed in the company of the good. + +And the history saith that from that day forward this knight, Martin +Pelaez, was a right good one, and a right valiant, and a right +precious, in all places where he chanced among feats of arms, and he +lived alway with the Cid, and served him right well and truly. And the +history saith, that after the Cid had won the city of Valencia, on the +day when they conquered and, discomfited the king of Seville, this +Martin Pelaez was so good a one, that setting aside the body of the Cid +himself, there was no such good knight there, nor one who bore such +part, as well in the battle as in the pursuit. And so great was the +mortality which he made among the Moors that day, that when he returned +from the business the sleeves of his mail were clotted with blood, up +to the elbow; insomuch that for what he did that day his name is +written in this history, that it may never die. + +And when the Cid saw him come in that guise, he did him great honour, +such as he never had done to any knight before that day, and from +thenceforward gave him a place in all his actions and in all his +secrets, and he was his great friend. In this knight Martin Pelaez was +fulfilled the example which saith, that he who betaketh himself to a +good tree, hath good shade, and he who serves a good lord winneth good +guerdon; for by reason of the good service which he did the Cid, he +came to such good state that he was spoken of as ye have heard; for the +Cid knew how to make a good knight, as a good groom knows how to make a +good horse. + + +THE CID DEFEATS TWO MOORISH KINGS + +And my Cid lay before Alcocer fifteen weeks; and when he saw that the +town did not surrender, he ordered his people to break up their camp, +as if they were flying, and they left one of their tents behind them, +and took their way along the Salon, with their banners spread. And when +the Moors saw this they rejoiced greatly, and there was a great stir +among them, and they praised themselves for what they had done in +withstanding him, and said that the Cid's bread and barley had failed +him, and he had fled away, and left one of his tents behind him. And +they said among themselves, "Let us pursue them and spoil them, for if +they of Teruel should be before us, the honour and the profit will be +theirs, and we shall have nothing." And they went out after him, great +and little, leaving the gates open and shouting as they went; and there +was not left in the town a man who could bear arms. + +And when my Cid saw them coming he gave orders to quicken their speed, +as if he was in fear, and would not let his people turn till the Moors +were far enough from the town. But when he saw that there was a good +distance between them and the gates, then he bade his banner turn, and +spurred towards them, crying, "Lay on, knights, by God's mercy the +spoil is our own." God! what a good joy was theirs that morning! My +Cid's vassals laid on without mercy--in one hour, and in a little +space, three hundred Moors were slain, and the Cid and Alvar Fañez had +good horses and got between them and the castle, and stood in the +gateway sword in hand, and there was a great mortality among the Moors; +and my Cid won the place, and Pero Bermudez planted his banner upon the +highest point of the castle. And the Cid said, "Blessed be God and all +his saints, we have bettered our quarters both for horses and men." + +And he said to Alvar Fañez and all his knights, "Hear me, we shall get +nothing by killing these Moors; let us take them and they shall show us +their treasures which they have hidden in their houses, and we will +dwell here and they shall serve us." In this manner did my Cid win +Alcocer, and take up his abode therein. + +Much did this trouble the Moors of Teca, and it did not please those of +Teruel, nor of Calatayud. And they sent to the king of Valencia to tell +him that one who was called Ruydiez the Cid, whom King Don Alfonso had +banished, was come into their country, and had taken Alcocer; and if a +stop were not put to him, the king might look upon Teca and Teruel and +Calatayud as lost, for nothing could stand against him, and he had +plundered the whole country, along the Salon on the one side, and the +Siloca on the other. When the king of Valencia, whose name was Alcamin, +heard this, he was greatly troubled; and incontinently he spake unto +two Moorish kings, who were his vassals, bidding them take three +thousand horsemen, and all the men of the border, and bring the Cid to +him alive, that he might make atonement to him for having entered his +land. + +Fariz and Galve were the names of these two Moorish kings and they set +out with companies of King Alcamin from Valencia, and halted the first +night in Segorve, and the second night at Celfa de Canal. And they sent +their messengers through the land to all the Councils thereof, ordering +all men at arms, as well horsemen as footmen, to join them, and the +third night they halted at Calatayud, and great numbers joined them; +and they came up against Alcocer, and pitched their tents round about +the castle. Every day their host increased, for their people were many +in number, and their watchmen kept watch day and night; and my Cid had +no succour to look for except the mercy of God, in which he put his +trust. And the Moors beset them so close that they cut off their water, +and albeit the Castillians would have sallied against them, my Cid +forbade this. In this guise were my Cid and his people besieged for +three weeks, and when the fourth week began, he called for Alvar Fañez, +and for his company, and said unto them, "Ye see that the Moors have +cut off our water, and we have but little bread; they gather numbers +day by day, and we become weak, and they are in their own country. If +we would depart they would not let us, and we cannot go out by night +because they have beset us round about on all sides, and we cannot pass +on high through the air, neither through the earth which is underneath. +Now then, if it please you, let us go out and fight with them, though +they are many in number, and either defeat them or die an honourable +death." + +Then Minaya answered and said, "We have left the gentle land of +Castille, and are come hither as banished men, and if we do not beat +the Moors they will not give us food*. Now though we are but few, yet +are we of a good stock, and of one heart and one will; by God's help +let us go out and smite them to-morrow, early in the morning, and you +who are not in a state of penitence go and shrieve yourselves and +repent ye of your sins." And they all held that what Alvar Fañez had +said was good. And my Cid answered, "Minaya, you have spoken as you +should do." Then ordered he all the Moors, both men and women, to be +thrust out of the town, that it might not be known what they were +preparing to do; and the rest of that day and the night also they +passed in making ready for the battle. And on the morrow at sunrise the +Cid gave his banner to Pero Bermudez, and bade him bear it boldly like +a good man as he was, but he charged him not to thrust forward with it +without his bidding. And Pero Bermudez kissed his hand, being well +pleased. Then leaving only two foot soldiers to keep the gates, they +issued out; and the Moorish scouts saw them and hastened to the camp. +Then was there such a noise of tambours as if the earth would have been +broken, and the Moors armed themselves in great haste. Two royal +banners were there, and five city ones, and they drew up their men in +two great bodies, and moved on, thinking to take my Cid and all his +company alive; and my Cid bade his men remain still and not move till +he should bid them. + +Pero Bermudez could not bear this, but holding the banner in his hand, +he cried, "God help you, Cid Campeador; I shall put your banner in the +middle of that main body; and you who are bound to stand by it--I shall +see how you will succour it." And he began to prick forward. And the +Campeador called unto him to stop as he loved him, but Pero Bermudez +replied he would stop for nothing, and away he spurred and carried his +banner into the middle of the great body of the Moors. And the Moors +fell upon him, that they might win the banner, and beset him on all +sides, giving him many great blows to beat him down; nevertheless his +arms were proof, and they could not pierce them, neither could they +beat him down, nor force the banner from him, for he was a right brave +man, and a strong, and a good horseman, and of great heart. And when +the Cid saw him thus beset he called to his people to move on and help +him. Then placed they their shields before their hearts, and lowered +their lances with the streamers thereon, and bending forward, rode on. +Three hundred lances were they, each with its pendant, and every man at +the first charge slew his Moor. "Smite them, knights, for the love of +charity," cried the Campeador. "I am Ruydiez, the Cid of Bivar!" + +Many a shield was pierced that day, and many a false corselet was +broken, and many a white streamer dyed with blood, and many a horse +left without a rider. The Misbelievers called on Mahomet, and the +Christians on Santiago, and the noise of the tambours and of the +trumpets was so great that none could hear his neighbour. And my Cid +and his company succoured Pero Bermudez, and they rode through the host +of the Moors, slaying as they went, and they rode back again in like +manner; thirteen hundred did they kill in this guise. Wherever my Cid +went, the Moors made a path before him, for he smote them down without +mercy. And while the battle still continued, the Moors killed the horse +of Alvar Fañez, and his lance was broken, and he fought bravely with +his sword afoot. And my Cid, seeing him, came up to an Alguazil who +rode upon a good horse, and smote him with his sword under the right +arm, so that he cut him through and through, and he gave the horse to +Alvar Fañez saying, "Mount, Minaya, for you are my right hand." + +When Alvar Fañez was thus remounted, they fell upon the Moors again, +and by this time the Moors were greatly disheartened, having suffered +so great loss, and they began to give way. And my Cid, seeing King +Fariz, made towards him, smiting down all who were in his way; and he +came up to him, and made three blows at him; two of them failed, but +the third was a good one, and went through his cuirass, so that the +blood ran down his legs. And with that blow was the army of the Moors +vanquished, for King Fariz, feeling himself so sorely wounded, turned +his reins and fled out of the field, even to Teruel. And Martin +Antolinez, the good Burgalese, came up to King Galve, and gave him a +stroke on the head, which scattered all the carbuncles out of his +helmet, and cut through it even to the skin; and the king did not wait +for another such, and he fled also. A good day was that for +Christendom, for the Moors fled on all sides. King Fariz got into +Teruel, and King Galve fled after him, but they would not receive him +within the gates, and he went on to Calatayud. And the Christians +pursued them even to Calatayud. And Alvar Fañez had a good horse; four +and thirty did he slay in that pursuit with the edge of his keen sword, +and his arm was all red, and the blood dropt from his elbow. And as he +was returning from the spoil he said, "Now am I well pleased, for good +tidings will go to Castille, how my Cid has won a battle in the field." +My Cid also turned back; his coif was wrinkled, and you might see his +full beard; the hood of his mail hung down upon his shoulders, and the +sword was still in his hand. He saw his people returning from the +pursuit, and that of all his company fifteen only of the lower sort +were slain, and he gave thanks to God for this victory. Then they fell +to the spoil, and they found arms in abundance, and great store of +wealth; and five hundred and ten horses. And he divided the spoil, +giving to each man his fair portion, and the Moors whom they had put +out of Alcocer before the battle, they now received again into the +castle, and gave to them also a part of the booty, so that all were +well content. And my Cid had great joy with his vassals. + +Then the Cid called unto Alvar Fañez and said, "Cousin, you are my +right hand, and I hold it good that you should take of my fifth as much +as you will, for all would be well bestowed upon you;" but Minaya +thanked him, and said, that he would take nothing more than his share. +And the Cid said unto him, "I will send King Don Alfonso a present from +my part of the spoils. You shall go into Castille, and take with you +thirty horses, the best which were taken from the Moors, all bridled +and saddled, and each having a sword hanging from the saddle-bow; and +you shall give them to the King, and kiss his hand for me, and tell him +that we know how to make our way among the Moors. And you shall take +also this bag of gold and silver, and purchase for me a thousand masses +in Saint Mary's at Burgos, and hang up there these banners of the +Moorish kings whom we hare overcome. Go then to Saint Pedro's at +Cardena, and salute my wife Doña Ximena, and my daughters, and tell +them how well I go on, and that if I live I will make them rich women. +And salute for me the Abbot Don Sebuto, and give him fifty marks of +silver; and the rest of the money, whatever shall be left, give to my +wife, and bid them all pray for me." Moreover the Cid said unto him, +"This country is all spoiled, and we have to help ourselves with sword +and spear. You are going to gentle Castille; if when you return you +should not find us here, you will hear where we are." + +[Illustration: ALVAR FAÑEZ WENT HIS WAY TO CASTILLE] + +Alvar Fañez went his way to Castille, and he found the king in +Valladolid, and he presented to him the thirty horses, with all their +trappings, and swords mounted with silver hanging from the saddle-bows. +And when the king saw them, before Alvar Fañez could deliver his +bidding, he said unto him, "Minaya, who sends me this goodly present?" +And Minaya answered, "My Cid Ruydiez, the Campeador, sends it, and +kisses by me your hands. For since you were wroth against him, and +banished him from the land, he being a man disherited, hath helped +himself with his own hands, and hath won from the Moors the Castle of +Alcocer. And the king of Valencia sent two kings to besiege him there, +with all his power, and they begirt him round about, and cut off the +water and bread from us so that we could not subsist. And then holding +it better to die like good men in the field, than shut up like bad +ones, we went out against them, and fought with them in the open field, +and smote them and put them to flight; and both the Moorish kings were +sorely wounded, and many of the Moors were slain, and many were taken +prisoners, and great was the spoil which we won in the field, both of +captives and of horses and arms, gold and silver and pearls, so that +all who are with him are rich men. And of his fifth of the horses which +were taken that day, my Cid hath sent you these, as to his natural +lord, whose favour he desireth. I beseech you, as God shall help you, +show favour unto him." + +Then King Don Alfonso answered, "This is betimes in the morning for a +banished man to ask favour of his lord; nor is it befitting a king, for +no lord ought to be wroth for so short a time. Nevertheless, because +the horses were won from the Moors, I will take them, and rejoice that +my Cid hath sped so well. And I pardon you, Minaya, and give again unto +you all the lands which you have ever held of me, and you have my +favour to go when you will, and come when you will. Of the Cid +Campeador, I shall say nothing now, save only that all who chuse to +follow him may freely go, and their bodies and goods and heritages are +safe." And Minaya said, "God grant you many and happy years for his +service. Now I beseech you, this which you have done for me, do also to +all those who are in my Cid's company, and show favour unto them." And +the king gave order that it should be so. Then Minaya kissed the king's +hand and said, "Sir, you have done this now, and you will do the rest +hereafter." + +In three weeks time after this came Alvar Fañez from Castille. Two +hundred men of lineage came with him, every one of whom wore sword girt +to his side, and the foot soldiers in their company were out of number. +When my Cid saw Minaya he rode up to him, and embraced him without +speaking, and kissed his mouth and the eyes in his head. And Minaya +told him all that he had done. And the face of the Campeador +brightened, and he gave thanks to God, and said, "It will go well with +me, Minaya, as long as you, live!" God, how joyful was that whole host +because Alvar Fañez was returned! for he brought them greetings from +their kinswomen and their brethren, and the fair comrades whom they had +left behind. God, how joyful was my Cid with the fleecy beard, that +Minaya had purchased the thousand masses, and had brought him the +biddings of his wife and daughters! God, what a joyful man was he! + + +THE CID DOES BATTLE WITH DON RAMON BERENGUER + +When Don Ramon Berenguer the Count of Barcelona heard how my Cid was +overrunning the country, it troubled him to the heart, and he held it +for a great dishonour, because that part of the land of the Moors was +in his keeping. And he spake boastfully, saying, "Great wrong doth that +Cid of Bivar offer unto me; he smote my nephew in my own court and +never would make amends for it, and now he ravages the lands which are +in my keeping, and I have never defied him for this nor renounced his +friendship; but since he goes on in this way I must take vengeance." So +he and King Abenalfange gathered together a great power both of Moors +and Christians, and went in pursuit of the Cid, and after three days +and two nights they came up with him in the pine-forest of Tebar, and +they came on confidently, thinking to lay hands on him. Now my Cid was +returning with much spoil, and had descended from the Sierra into the +valley when tidings were brought him that Count Don Ramon Berenguer and +the King of Denia were at hand, with a great power, to take away his +booty, and take or slay him. And when the Cid heard this he sent to Don +Ramon saying, that the booty which he had won was none of his, and +bidding him let him go on his way in peace; but the Count made answer, +that my Cid should now learn whom he had dishonoured, and make amends +once for all. + +Then my Cid sent the booty forward, and bade his knights make ready. +"They are coming upon us," said he, "with a great power, both of Moors +and Christians, to take from us the spoils which we have so hardly won, +and without doing battle we cannot be quit of them; for if we should +proceed they would follow till they overtook us; therefore let the +battle he here, and I trust in God that we shall win more honour, and +something to boot. They came down the hill, drest in their hose, with +their gay saddles, and their girths wet; we are with our hose covered +and on our Galician saddles; a hundred such as we ought to beat their +whole company. Before they get upon the plain ground let us give them +the points of our lances; for one whom we run through, three will jump +out of their saddles; and Ramon Berenguer will then see whom he has +overtaken to-day in the pine-forest of Tebar, thinking to despoil him +of the booty which I have won from the enemies of God and of the +faith." + +While my Cid was speaking, his knights had taken their arms, and were +ready on horseback for the charge. Presently they saw the pendants of +the Frenchmen coming down the hill, and when they were nigh the bottom, +my Cid bade his people charge, which they did with a right good will, +thrusting their spears so stiffly that by God's good pleasure not a man +whom they encountered but lost his seat. So many were slain and so many +wounded that the Moors were dismayed forthwith, and began to fly. The +Count's people stood firm a little longer, gathering round their Lord; +but my Cid was in search of him, and when he saw where he was, he made +up to him, clearing the way as he went, and gave him such a stroke with +his lance that he felled him down to the ground. When the Frenchmen saw +their Lord in this plight they fled away and left him; and the pursuit +lasted three leagues, and would have been continued farther if the +conquerors had not had tired horses. So they turned back and collected +the spoils, which were more than they could carry away. Thus was Count +Ramon Berenguer made prisoner, and my Cid won from him that day the +good sword Colada, which was worth more than a thousand marks of +silver. + +That night did my Cid and his men make merry, rejoicing over their +gains. And the Count was taken to my Cid's tent, and a good supper was +set before him; nevertheless he would not eat, though my Cid besought +him so to do. And on the morrow my Cid ordered a feast to be made, that +he might do pleasure to the Count, but the Count said that for all +Spain he would not eat one mouthful, but rather die, since he had been +beaten in battle by such a set of ragged fellows. + +And Ruydiez said to him, "Eat and drink, Count, of this bread and of +this wine, for this is the chance of war; if you do as I say you shall +be free; and if not you will never return again into your own lands." +And Don Ramon answered, "Eat you, Don Rodrigo, for your fortune is fair +and you deserve it; take you your pleasure, but leave me to die." And +in this mood he continued for three days, refusing all food. + +But then my Cid said to him, "Take food, Count, and be sure that I will +set you free, you and any two of your knights, and give you wherewith +to return into your own country." And when Don Ramon heard this, he +took comfort and said, "If you will indeed do this thing I shall marvel +at you as long as I live." "Eat then," said Ruydiez, "and I will do it; +but mark you, of the spoil which we have taken from you I will give you +nothing; for to that you have no claim, neither by right nor custom, +and besides we want it for ourselves, being banished men, who must live +by taking from you and from others as long as it shall please God." + +Then was the Count full joyful, being well pleased that what should be +given him was not of the spoils which he had lost; and he called for +water and washed his hands, and chose two of his kinsmen to be set free +with him; the one was named Don Hugo, and the other Guillen Bernalto. + +And my Cid sate at the table with them, and said, "If you do not eat +well, Count, you and I shall not part yet." Never since he was Count +did he eat with better will than that day! And when they had done he +said, "Now, Cid, if it be your pleasure let us depart." And my Cid +clothed him and his kinsmen well with goodly skins and mantles, and +gave them each a goodly palfrey, with rich caparisons, and he rode out +with them on their way. And when he took leave of the Count he said to +him, "Now go freely, and I thank you for what you have left behind; if +you wish to play for it again let me know, and you shall either have +something back in its stead, or leave what you bring to be added to +it." + +The Count answered, "Cid, you jest safely now, for I have paid you and +all your company for this twelvemonths, and shall not be coming to see +you again so soon." + +Then Count Ramon pricked on more than apace, and many times looked +behind him, fearing that my Cid would repent what he had done, and send +to take him back to prison, which the Perfect one would not have done +for the whole world, for never did he do disloyal thing. + + +THE CID PUNISHES ALMOFALEZ, AND IS RECONCILED TO THE KING + +Now Zulema had sent for my Cid, and the cause was this. His brother, +the King of Denia, had taken counsel with Count Ramon Berenguer, and +with the Count of Cardona, and with the brother of the Count of Urgel, +and with the chiefs of Balsadron and Remolin and Cartaxes, that they +should besiege the Castle of Almenar, which my Cid had fortified by +command of King Zulema. And they came up against it while my Cid was +away, besieging the Castle of Estrada, which is in the rivers Tiegio +and Sege, the which he took by force. And they fought against it and +cut off the water. And when my Cid came to the king at Tamarit, the +king asked him to go and fight with the host which besieged Almenar; +but my Cid said it would be better to give something to King +Abenalfange that he should break up the siege and depart; for they were +too great a power to do battle with, being as many in number as the +sands on the sea shore. And the King did as he counselled him, and sent +to his brother King Abenalfange, and to the chiefs who were with him, +to propose this accord, and they would not. + +Then my Cid, seeing that they would not depart for fair means, armed +his people, and fell upon them. That was a hard battle and well fought +on both sides, and much blood was shed, for many good knights on either +party were in the field; howbeit he of good fortune won the day at +last, he who never was conquered. King Abenalfange and Count Ramon and +most of the others fled, and my Cid followed, smiting and slaying for +three leagues; and many good Christian knights were made prisoners. +Ruydiez returned with great honour and much spoil, and gave all his +prisoners to King Zulema, who kept them eight days, and then my Cid +begged their liberty and set them free. And he and the king returned to +Zaragoza, and the people came out to meet them, with great joy, and +shouts of welcome. And the king honoured my Cid greatly, and gave him +power in all his dominions. + +At this time it came to pass that Almofalez, a Moor of Andalusia, rose +up with the Castle of Rueda, which was held for King Don Alfonso. And +because he held prisoner there the brother of Adefir, another Moor, +Adefir sent to the King of Castille, beseeching him to come to succour +him, and recover the Castle. And the King sent the Infante Don Ramiro +his cousin, and the Infante Don Sancho, son to the King of Navarre, and +Count Don Gonzalo Salvadores, and Count Don Nuño Alvarez, and many +other knights with them: and they came to the Castle, and Almofalez +said he would not open the gates to them, but if the king came he would +open to him. And when King Don Alfonso heard this, incontinently he +came to Rueda. And Almofalez besought him to enter to a feast which he +had prepared; howbeit the King would not go in, neither would his +people have permitted him so to have risked his person. But the Infante +Don Sancho entered, and Don Nuño, and Don Ganzalo, and fifteen other +knights; and as soon as they were within the gate, the Moors threw down +great stones upon them and killed them all. This was the end of the +good Count Don Gonzalo Salvadores, who was so good a knight in battle +that he was called "He of the Four Hands." The bodies were ransomed, +seeing that there was no remedy, the Castle being so strong, and Don +Gonzalo was buried in the Monastery of Ona, according as he had +appointed in his will; and the Infante Don Sancho with his forefathers +the Kings of Navarre, in the royal Monastery of Naxara. + +Greatly was King Don Alfonso troubled at this villainy, and he sought +for the Cid, who was in those parts; and the Cid came to him with a +great company. And the king told him the great treason which had been +committed, and took the Cid into his favour, and said unto him that he +might return with him into Castille. My Cid thanked him for his bounty, +but he said he never would accept his favour unless the king granted +what he should request; and the king bade him make his demand. And my +Cid demanded that when any hidalgo should be banished, in time to come, +he should have the thirty days, which were his right, allowed him, and +not nine only, as had been his case; and that neither hidalgo nor +citizen should be proceeded against till they had been fairly and +lawfully heard: also, that the king should not go against the +privileges and charters and good customs of any town or other place, +nor impose taxes upon them against their right; and if he did, that it +should be lawful for the land to rise against him, till he had amended +the misdeed. + +And to all this the king accorded, and said to my Cid that he should go +back into Castille with him; but my Cid said he would not go into +Castille till he had won that castle of Rueda, and delivered the +villainous Moors thereof into his hands, that he might do justice upon +them. + +So the king thanked him greatly, and returned into Castille, and my Cid +remained before the castle of Rueda. And he lay before it so long, and +beset it so close, that the food of the Moors failed, and they had no +strength to defend themselves; and they would willingly have yielded +the castle, so they might have been permitted to leave it and go +whither they would; but he would have their bodies, to deliver them up +to the king. When they saw that it must be so, great part of them came +out, and yielded themselves prisoners; and then my Cid stormed the +castle and took Almofalez and them who held with him, so that none +escaped; and he sent him and his accomplices in the treason to the +king. And the king was right glad when they were brought before him, +and he did great justice upon them, and sent to thank my Cid for having +avenged him. + +[Illustration: The Defeat of Almofalez] + +After my Cid had done this good service to King Don Alfonso, he and +King Zulema of Zaragoza entered Aragon, slaying, and burning, and +plundering before them, and they returned to the Castle of Monzon with +great booty. Then the Cid went into King Abenalfange's country, and did +much mischief there: and he got among the mountains of Moriella, and +beat down everything before him, and destroyed the Castle of Moriella. +And King Zulema sent to bid him build up the ruined Castle of Alcala, +which is upon Moriella; and the Cid did so. But King Abenalfange, being +sorely grieved hereat, sent to King Pedro of Aragon, and besought him +to come and help him against the Campeador. And the king of Aragon +gathered together a great host in his anger, and he and the king of +Denia came against my Cid, and they halted that night upon the banks of +the Ebro; and King Don Pedro sent letters to the Cid, bidding him leave +the castle which he was then edifying. My Cid made answer, that if the +king chose to pass that way in peace, he would let him pass, and show +him any service in his power. And when the king of Aragon saw that he +would not forsake the work, he marched against him, and attacked him. +Then there was a brave battle, and many were slain; but my Cid won the +day, and King Abenalfange fled, and King Don Pedro was taken prisoner, +and many of his counts and knights with him. My Cid returned to +Zaragoza with this great honour, taking his prisoners with him; and he +set them all freely at liberty, and having tarried in Zaragoza a few +days, set forth for Castille, with great riches and full of honours. + +Having done all these things in his banishment, my Cid returned to +Castille, and the king received him well and gave him the Castle of +Dueñas, and of Orcejon, and Ybia, and Campo, and Gaña, and Berviesca, +and Berlanga, with all their districts. And he gave him privileges with +leaden seals appendant, and confirmed with his own hand, that whatever +castles, towns, and places he might win from the Moors, or from any one +else, should be his own, quit and free for ever, both for him and for +his descendants. Thus was my Cid received into the king's favour, and +he abode with him long time, doing him great services, as his Lord. + + +THE DEATH OF THE CID + +It is written in the history which Abenalfarax, the nephew of Gil Diaz, +composed in Valencia, that for five years the Cid Ruydiez remained Lord +thereof in peace, and in all that time he sought to do nothing but to +serve God, and to keep the Moors quiet who were under his dominion; so +that Moors and Christians dwelt together in such accord that it seemed +as if they had always been united; and they all loved and served the +Cid with such good will that it was marvelous. And when these five +years were over tidings were spread far and near, which reached +Valencia, that King Bucar, the Miramamolin of Morocco, holding himself +disgraced because the Cid Campeador had conquered him in the field of +Quarto near unto Valencia, where he had slain or made prisoners all his +people, and driven him into the sea, and made spoil of all his +treasures--King Bucar calling these things to mind, had gone himself +and stirred up the whole Paganism of Barbary to cross the sea again, +and avenge himself if he could; and he had assembled so great a power +that no man could devise their numbers. + +When the Cid heard these tidings he was troubled at heart; howbeit he +dissembled this, so that no person knew what he was minded to do; and +thus the matter remained for some days. And when he saw that the news +came thicker and faster, and that it was altogether certain that King +Bucar was coming over sea against him, he sent and bade all the Moors +of Valencia assemble together in his presence, and when they were all +assembled he said unto them, "Good men of the Aljama, ye well know that +from the day wherein I became Lord of Valencia, ye have always been +protected and defended, and have past your time well and peaceably in +your houses and heritages, none troubling you nor doing you wrong; +neither have I who am your Lord ever done aught unto you that was +against right. And now true tidings are come to me that King Bucar of +Morocco is arrived from beyond sea, with a mighty power of Moors, and +that he is coming against me to take from me this city which I won with +so great labour. Now therefore, seeing it is so, I hold it good and +command that ye quit the town, both ye and your sons and your women, +and go into the suburb of Alcudia and the other suburbs, to dwell there +with the other Moors, till we shall see the end of this business +between me and King Bucar." Then the Moors, albeit they were loath, +obeyed his command: and when they were all gone out of the city, so +that none remained, he held himself safer than he had done before. + +Now after the Moors were all gone out of the city, it came to pass in +the middle of the night that the Cid was lying in his bed, devising how +he might withstand this coming of King Bucar, for Abenalfarax saith +that when he was alone in his palace his thoughts were of nothing else. +And when it was midnight there came a great light into the palace, and +a great odour, marvelous sweet. And as he was marveling what it might +he, there appeared before him a man as white as snow; he was in the +likeness of an old man, with gray hair and crisp, and he carried +certain keys in his hand; and before the Cid could speak to him he +said, "Sleepest thou, Rodrigo, or what art thou doing?" And the Cid +made answer, "What man art thou who askest me?" And he said, "I am +Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, who come unto thee with more urgent +tidings than those for which thou art taking thought concerning King +Bucar, and it is, that thou art to leave this world, and go to that +which hath no end; and this will be in thirty days. But God will show +favour unto thee, so that thy people shall discomfit King Bucar, and +thou, being dead, shalt win this battle for the honour of thy body: +this will be with the help of Santiago, whom God will send to the +business; but do thou strive to make atonement for thy sins, and so +thou shalt be saved. All this Jesus Christ vouchsafeth thee for the +love of me, and for the reverence which thou hast alway shown to my +Church." + +When the Cid Campeador heard this he had great pleasure at heart, and +he let himself fall out of bed upon the earth, that he might kiss the +feet of the Apostle St. Peter; but the Apostle said, "Strive not to do +this, for thou canst not touch me; but be sure that all this which I +have told thee will come to pass." And when the blessed Apostle had +said this he disappeared, and the palace remained full of a sweeter and +more delightful odour than heart of man can conceive. And the Cid +Ruydiez remained greatly comforted by what St. Peter had said to him, +and as certain that all this would come to pass, as if it were already +over. + +Early on the morrow he sent to call all his honourable men to the +Alcazar; and when they were all assembled before him, he began to say +unto them, weeping the while, "Friends and kinsmen and true vassals and +honourable men, many of ye must well remember when King Don Alfonso our +Lord twice banished me from this land, and most of ye for the love +which ye bore me followed me into banishment, and have guarded me ever +since. And God hath shown such mercy to you and to me, that we have won +many battles against Moors and Christians; those which were against +Christians, God knows, were more through their fault than my will, for +they strove to set themselves against the good fortune which God had +given me, and to oppose his service, helping the enemies of the faith. +Moreover we won this city in which we dwell, which is not under the +dominion of any man in the world, save only my Lord the King Don +Alfonso, and that rather by reason of our natural allegiance than of +anything else. And now I would have ye know the state in which this +body of mine now is; for be ye certain that I am in the latter days of +my life, and that thirty days hence will be my last. Of this I am well +assured; for for these seven nights past I have seen visions. I have +seen my father Diego Laynez and Diego Rodriguez my son; and every time +they say to me, 'You have tarried long here, let us go now among the +people who endure for ever.' Now, notwithstanding man ought not to put +his trust in these things, nor in such visions, I know this by other +means to be certain, for Sir St. Peter hath appeared to me this night, +when I was awake and not sleeping, and he told me that when these +thirty days were over I should pass away from this world. Now ye know +for certain that King Bucar is coming against us, and they say that +thirty and six Moorish kings are coming with him; and since he bringeth +so great a power of Moors and I have to depart so soon, how can ye +defend Valencia! But be ye certain, that by the mercy of God I shall +counsel ye so that ye shall conquer King Bucar in the field, and win +great praise and honour from him, and Doña Ximena, and ye and all that +ye have, go hence in safety; how ye are to do all this I will tell ye +hereafter, before I depart." + +After the Cid said this he sickened of the malady of which he died. And +the day before his weakness waxed great, he ordered the gates of the +town to be shut, and went to the Church of St. Peter; and there the +Bishop Don Hieronymo being present, and all the clergy who were in +Valencia, and the knights and honourable men and honourable dames, as +many as the Church could hold, the Cid Ruydiez stood up, and made a +full noble preaching, showing that no man whatsoever, however +honourable or fortunate they may be in this world, can escape death; +"to which," said he, "I am now full near; and since ye know that this +body of mine hath never yet been conquered, nor put to shame, I beseech +ye let not this befall it at the end, for the good fortune of man is +only accomplished at his end. How this is to be done, and what we all +have to do, I will leave in the hands of the Bishop of Don Hieronymo, +and Alvar Fañez, and Pero Bermudez." And when he had said this he +placed himself at the feet of the Bishop, and there before all the +people made a general confession of all his sins, and all the faults +which he had committed against our Lord Jesus Christ. And the Bishop +appointed him his penance and assoyled him of his sins. + +Then he arose and took leave of the people, weeping plenteously, and +returned to the Alcazar, and betook himself to his bed, and never rose +from it again; and every day he waxed weaker and weaker, till seven +days only remained of the time appointed. Then he called for the +caskets of gold in which was the balsam and the myrrh which the Soldan +of Persia had sent him; and when these were put before him he bade them +bring him the golden cup, of which he was wont to drink; and he took of +that balsam and of that myrrh as much as a little spoonful, and mingled +it in the cup with rose-water and drank of it; and for the seven days +which he lived he neither ate nor drank aught else than a little of +that myrrh and balsam mingled with water. And every day after he did +this, his body and his countenance appeared fairer and fresher than +before, and his voice clearer, though he waxed weaker and weaker daily, +so that he could not move in his bed. + +On the twenty-ninth day, being the day before he departed, he called +for Dona Ximena, and for the Bishop Don Hieronymo, and Don Alvar Fañez +Minaya, and Pero Bermudez, and his trusty Gil Diaz; and when they were +all five before him, he began to direct them what they should do after +his death; and he said to them: + +"Ye know that King Bucar will presently be here to besiege this city, +with seven and thirty Kings, whom he bringeth with him, and with a +mighty power of Moors. + +"Now, therefore, the first thing which ye do after I have departed, +wash my body with rose-water many times and well, as blessed be the +name of God it is washed within and made pure of all uncleanness to +receive his holy body to-morrow, which will be my last day. And when it +has been well washed and made clean, ye shall dry it well, and anoint +it with this myrrh and balsam, from these golden caskets, from head to +foot, so that every part shall be anointed, till none be left. + +"And you my Sister Doña Ximena, and your women, see that ye utter no +cries, neither make any lamentation for me, that the Moors may not know +of my death. And when the day shall come in which King Bucar arrives, +order all the people of Valencia to go upon the walls, and sound your +trumpets and tambours, and make the greatest rejoicings that ye can. + +"And when ye would set out for Castille, let all the people know in +secret, that they make themselves ready, and take with them all that +they have, so that none of the Moors in the suburb may know thereof; +for certes ye cannot keep the city, neither abide therein after my +death. And see ye that sumpter beasts be laden with all that there is +in Valencia, so that nothing which can profit may be left. And this I +leave especially to your charge, Gil Diaz. + +"Then saddle ye my horse Bavieca, and arm him well; and ye shall +apparel my body full seemlily, and place me upon the horse, and fasten +and tie me thereon so that it cannot fall; and fasten my sword Tizona +in my hand. And let the Bishop Don Hieronymo go on one side of me, and +my trusty Gil Diaz on the other, and he shall lead my horse. You, Pero +Bermudez, shall bear my banner, as you were wont to bear it; and you, +Alvar Fañez, my cousin, gather your company together, and put the host +in order as you are wont to do. And go ye forth and fight with King +Bucar; for be ye certain and doubt not that ye shall win this battle; +God hath granted me this. And when ye have won the fight, and the Moors +are discomfited, ye may spoil the field at pleasure. Ye will find great +riches." + +Then the Cid Ruydiez, the Campeador of Bivar, bade the Bishop Don +Hieronymo give him the body of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and +he received it with great devotion, on his knees, and weeping before +them all. + +Then he sate up in his bed and called upon God and St. Peter, and began +to pray, saying, "Lord Jesus Christ, thine is the power, and the +kingdom, and thou art above all kings and all nations, and all kings +are at thy command. I beseech ye, therefore, pardon me my sins and let +my soul enter into the light which hath no end." + +And when the Cid Ruydiez had said this, he yielded up his soul, which +was pure and without spot, to God, on that Sunday which is called +Quinquagesima, being the twenty and ninth of May, in the year of our +Lord one thousand and ninety and nine, and in the seventy and third +year of his life. + + +THE LAST VICTORY + +Three days after the Cid had departed King Bucar came into the port of +Valencia, and landed with all his power, which was so great that there +is not a man in the world who could give account of the Moors whom he +brought. And there came with him thirty and six kings, and one Moorish +queen, who was a negress, and she brought with her two hundred +horsewomen, all negresses like herself, all having their hair shorn +save a tuft on the top, and this was in token that they came as if upon +a pilgrimage, and to obtain the remission of their sins; and they were +all armed in coats of mail and with Turkish bows. King Bucar ordered +his tents to be pitched round about Valencia, and Abenalfarax, who +wrote this history in Arabic, saith that there were full fifteen +thousand tents; and he bade that Moorish negress with her archers to +take their station near the city. + +And on the morrow they began to attack the city, and they fought +against it three days strenuously, and the Moors received great loss, +for they came blindly up to the walls and were slain there. And the +Christians defended themselves right well; and every time that they +went upon the walls, they sounded trumpets and tambours, and made great +rejoicings, as the Cid had commanded. This continued for eight days or +nine, till the companions of the Cid had made ready everything for +their departure, as he had commanded. And King Bucar and his people +thought that the Cid dared not come out against them; and they were the +more encouraged and began to think of making bastiles and engines +wherewith to combat the city, for certes they weened that the Cid +Ruydiez dared not come out against them, seeing that he tarried so +long. All this while the company of the Cid were preparing all things +to go into Castille, as he had commanded before his death; and his +trusty Gil Diaz did nothing else but labour at this. And the body of +the Cid was prepared after this manner: first it was embalmed and +anointed as the history hath already recounted, and the virtue of the +balsam and myrrh was such that the flesh remained firm and fair, having +its natural color, and his countenance as it was wont to be, and the +eyes open, and his long beard in order, so that there was not a man who +would have thought him dead if he had seen him and not known it. + +And on the second day after he had departed, Gil Diaz placed the body +upon a right noble saddle, and this saddle with the body upon it he put +upon a frame; and he dressed the body in a gambax of fine sendal, next +the skin. And he took two boards and fitted them to the body, one to +the breast and the other to the shoulders; these were so hollowed out +and fitted that they met at the sides and under the arms, and the hind +one came up to the pole, and the other up to the beard; and these +boards were fastened into the saddle, so that the body could not move. +All this was done by the morning of the twelfth day; and all that day +the people of the Cid were busied in making ready their arms, and in +loading beasts with all that they had, so that they left nothing of any +price in the whole city of Valencia, save only the empty houses. When +it was midnight they took the body of the Cid, fastened to the saddle +as it was, and placed it upon his horse Bavieca, and fastened the +saddle well; and the body sat so upright and well that it seemed as if +he was alive. And it had on painted hose of black and white, so +cunningly painted that no man who saw them would have thought but that +they were greaves and cuishes, unless he had laid his hand upon them, +and they put on it a surcoat of green sendal, having his arms blazoned +thereon, and a helmet of parchment, which was cunningly painted that +every one might have believed it to be iron; and his shield was hung +round his neck, and they placed the sword Tizona in his hand, and they +raised his arm, and fastened it up so subtilely that it was a marvel to +see how upright he held the sword. And the Bishop Don Hieronymo went on +one side of him, and the trusty Gil Diaz on the other, and he led the +horse Bavieca, as the Cid had commanded him. + +[Illustration: THEY WENT OUT FROM VALENCIA AT MIDNIGHT] + +And when all this had been made ready, they went out from Valencia at +midnight, through the gate of Roseros, which is towards Castille. Pero +Bermudez went first with the banner of the Cid, and with him five +hundred knights who guarded it, all well appointed. And after these +came all the baggage. Then came the body of the Cid, with an hundred +knights, all chosen men, and behind them Doña Ximena with all her +company, with six hundred knights in the rear. All these went out so +silently, and with such a measured pace, that it seemed as if there +were only a score. And by the time that they had all gone out it was +broad day. + +Now Alvar Fañez Minaya had set the host in order, and while the Bishop +Don Hieronymo and Gil Diaz led away the body of the Cid, and Doña +Ximena, and the baggage, he fell upon the Moors. First, he attacked the +tents of that Moorish queen, the negress, who lay nearest to the city; +and this onset was so sudden, that they killed full a hundred and fifty +Moors before they had time to take arms or go to horse. But that Moorish +negress was so skillful in drawing the Turkish bow, that it was held for +a marvel; and it is said that they called her in Arabic Nugueymat Turya, +which is to say, _the Star of the Archers_. And she was the first that +got on horseback, and with some fifty that were with her, did some hurt +to the company of the Cid; but in time they slew her, and her people +fled to the camp. And so great was the uproar and confusion, that few +there were who took arms, but instead thereof they turned their backs +and fled toward the sea. + +And when King Bucar and his kings saw this, they were astonished. And +it seemed to them that there came against them on the part of the +Christians full seventy thousand knights, all as white as snow; and +before them a knight of great stature, upon a white horse with a bloody +cross, who bore in one hand a white banner, and in the other a sword +which seemed to be of fire, and he made a great mortality among the +Moors who were flying. And King Bucar and the other kings were so +greatly dismayed that they never checked the reins till they had ridden +into the sea; and the company of the Cid rode after them, smiting and +slaying and giving them no respite; and they smote down so many that it +was marvelous, for the Moors did not turn their heads to defend +themselves. And when they came to the sea, so great was the press among +them to get to the ships, that more than ten-thousand died in the +water. And of the six and thirty kings, twenty and two were slain. And +King Bucar and they who escaped with him hoisted sails and went their +way. + +Then Alvar Fañez and his people, when they had discomfited the Moors, +spoiled the field, and the spoil thereof was so great that they could +not carry it away. And they loaded camels and horses with the noblest +things which they found, and went after the Bishop Don Hieronymo and +Gil Diaz, who, with the body of the Cid, and Doña Ximena, and the +baggage, had gone on till they were clear of the host, and then waited +for those who were gone against the Moors. And so great was the spoil +of that day, that there was no end to it: and they took up gold, and +silver, and other precious things as they rode through the camp, so +that the poorest man among the Christians, horseman or on foot, became +rich with what he won that day. + + +THE BURIAL + +On the third day after the coming of King Don Alfonso, they would have +interred the body of the Cid; but when the king heard what Doña Ximena +had said, that while it was so fair and comely it should not be laid in +a coffin, he held that what she said was good. And he sent for the +ivory chair which had been carried to the Cortes of Toledo, and gave +order that it should be placed on the right of the altar of St. Peter; +and he laid a cloth of gold upon it, and upon that placed a cushion +covered with a right noble tartari, and he ordered a graven tabernacle +to be made over the chair, richly wrought with azure and gold, having +thereon the blazonry of the kings of Castille and Leon, and the king of +Navarre, and the Infante of Aragon, and of the Cid Ruydiez the +Campeador. And he himself, and the king of Navarre, and the Infante of +Aragon, and the Bishop Don Hieronymo, to do honor to the Cid, helped to +take his body from between the two boards, in which it had been +fastened at Valencia. And when they had taken it out, the body was so +firm that it bent not on either side, and the flesh so firm and comely, +that is seemed as if he were yet alive. And the king thought that what +they purported to do and had thus begun, might full well be effected. +And they clad the body in a full noble tartari, and in cloth of purple, +which the Soldan of Persia had sent him, and put him on hose of the +same, and set him in his ivory chair; and in his left hand they placed +his sword Tizona in its scabbard, and the strings of his mantle in his +right. And in this fashion the body of the Cid remained there ten years +and more, till it was taken thence, as the history will relate anon. +And when his garments waxed old, other good ones were put on. + +Now Don Garcia Tellez, the abbot, and the trusty Gil Diaz, were wont +every year to make a great festival on the day of the Cid's departure, +and on that anniversary they gave food and clothing to the poor, who +came from all parts round about. And it came to pass when they made the +seventh anniversary, that a great multitude assembled as they were wont +to do, and many Moors and Jews came to see the strange manner of the +Cid's body. And it was the custom of the abbot Don Garcia Tellez, when +they made that anniversary, to make a right noble sermon to the people: +and because the multitude which had assembled was so great that the +church could not hold them, they went out into the open place before +the monastery, and he preached unto them there. + +And while he was preaching there remained a Jew in the church, who +stopped before the body of the Cid, looking at him to see how nobly he +was there seated, having his countenance so fair and comely, and his +long beard in such goodly order, and his sword Tizona in its scabbard +in his left hand, and the strings of his mantle in his right, even in +such manner as King Don Alfonso had left him, save only that the +garments had been changed, it being now seven years since the body had +remained there in that ivory chair. Now there was not a man in the +church save this Jew, for all the others were hearing the preachment +which the abbot made. And when this Jew perceived that he was alone, he +began to think within himself and say, "This is the body of that +Ruydiez the Cid, whom they say no man in the world ever took by the +beard while he lived. . . . I will take him by the beard now, and see +what he can do to me." And with that he put forth his hand to pull the +beard of the Cid; . . . but before his hand could reach it, God who +would not suffer this thing to be done, sent his spirit into the body, +and the Cid let the strings of his mantle go from his right hand, +and laid hand on his sword Tizona, and drew it a full palm's length +out of the scabbard. + +And when the Jew saw this, he fell upon his back for great fear, and +began to cry out so loudly, that all they who were without the church +heard him, and the abbot broke off his preachment and went into the +church to see what it might be. And when they came they found this Jew +lying upon his back before the ivory chair, like one dead, for he had +ceased to cry out, and had swooned away. And then the Abbot Don Garcia +Tellez looked at the body of the Cid, and saw that his right hand was +upon the hilt of the sword, and that he had drawn it out a full palm's +length; and he was greatly amazed. + +And he called for holy water, and threw it in the face of the Jew, and +with that the Jew came to himself. + +Then the abbot asked him what all this meant, and he told him the whole +truth; and he knelt down upon his knees before the abbot, and besought +him of his mercy that he would make a Christian of him, because of this +great miracle which he had seen, and baptize him in the name of Jesus +Christ, for he would live and die in his faith, holding all other to be +but error. And the abbot baptized him in the name of the Holy Trinity, +and gave him to name Diego Gil. + +And all who were there present were greatly amazed, and they made a +great outcry and great rejoicings to God for this miracle, and for the +power which he had shown through the body of the Cid in this manner; +for it was plain that what the Jew said was verily and indeed true, +because the posture of the Cid was changed. And from that day forward +Diego Gil remained in the monastery as long as he lived, doing service +to the body of the Cid. + +After that day the body of the Cid remained in the same posture, for +they never took his hand off the sword, nor changed his garments more, +and thus it remained three years longer, till it had been there ten +years in all. And then the nose began to change color. And when the +Abbot Don Garcia Tellez and Gil Diaz saw this, they weened that it was +no longer fitting for the body to remain in that manner. And three +bishops from the neighbouring provinces met there, and with many masses +and vigils, and great honour, they interred the body after this manner. +They dug a vault before the altar, beside the grave of Doña Ximena, and +vaulted it over with a high arch; and there they placed the body of the +Cid, seated as it was in the ivory chair, and in his garments, and with +the sword in his hand, and they hung up his shield and his banner upon +the walls. + + + + + +ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG + +_By_ Oliver Goldsmith + + +Good people all, of every sort, + Give ear unto my song; +And if you find it wondrous short, + It cannot hold you long. + +In Islington there was a Man, + Of whom the world might say, +That still a godly race he ran, + Whene'er he went to pray. + +A kind and gentle heart he had, + To comfort friends and foes, +The naked every day he clad, + When he put on his clothes. + +And in that town a Dog was found, + As many dogs there be, +Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, + And curs of low degree. + +This Dog and Man at first were friends; + But when a pique began, + The Dog, to gain some private ends, + Went mad and bit the Man. + + Around from all the neighboring streets + The wond'ring neighbors ran, + And swore the Dog had lost his wits, + To bite so good a Man. + + The wound it seem'd both sore and sad + To every Christian eye; + And while they swore the Dog was mad, + They swore the Man would die. + + But soon a wonder came to light, + That show'd the rogues they lied: + The Man recover'd of the bite, + The Dog it was that died. + + + + + +MOTHER'S WAY +[Footnote: _From Father Ryan's Poems, copyright by P. J. Kennedy & +Sons, N. Y._] + +_By_ FATHER RYAN + + + Oft within our little cottage, + As the shadows gently fall, + While the sunlight touches softly + One sweet face upon the wall, + Do we gather close together, + And in hushed and tender tone + Ask each other's full forgiveness + For the wrong that each has done. + Should you wonder why this custom + At the ending of the day, + Eye and voice would quickly answer: + "It was once our mother's way." + + If our home be bright and cheery, + If it holds a welcome true, + Opening wide its door of greeting + To the many--not the few; + If we share our father's bounty + With the needy day by day, + 'Tis because our hearts remember + This was ever mother's way. + + Sometimes when our hands grow weary, + Or our tasks seem very long; + When our burdens look too heavy, + And we deem the right all wrong; + Then we gain a new, fresh courage, + And we rise to proudly say: + "Let us do our duty bravely-- + This was our dear mother's way." + + Then we keep her memory precious, + While we never cease to pray + That at last, when lengthening shadows + Mark the evening of our day, + They may find us waiting calmly + To go home our mother's way. + + + + +SONG OF THE BROOK + +_By_ ALFRED TENNYSON + + + I come from haunts of coot and hern, + I make a sudden sally + And sparkle out among the fern, + To bicker down a valley. + + By thirty hills I hurry down, + Or slip between the ridges, + By twenty thorps, a little town, + And half a hundred bridges. + + Till last by Philip's farm I flow + To join the brimming river, + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on forever. + + I chatter over stony ways; + In little sharps and trebles, + I bubble into eddying bays, + I babble on the pebbles. + + With many a curve my banks I fret + By many a field and fallow, + And many a fairy foreland set + With willow-weed and mallow. + + I chatter, chatter, as I flow + To join the brimming river; + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on forever. + + I wind about, and in and out, + With here a blossom sailing, + And here and there a lusty trout, + And here and there a grayling, + + And here and there a foamy flake + Upon me, as I travel + With many a silvery waterbreak + Above the golden gravel, + + And draw them all along, and flow + To join the brimming river; + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on forever. + + I steal by lawns and grassy plots, + I slide by hazel covers; + I move the sweet forget-me-nots + That grow for happy lovers. + + I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, + Among my skimming swallows; + I make the netted sunbeam dance + Against my sandy shallows. + + I murmur under moon and stars + In brambly wildernesses; + I linger by my shingly bars; + I loiter round my cresses. + + And out again I curve and flow + To join the brimming river; + For men may come and men may go, + But I go on forever. + + + + +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW + +_By_ GRACE E. SELLON + + +Among the most distinguished and interesting buildings in the town of +Portland, Maine, is the rather severe-looking house built in the latter +part of the eighteenth century by General Peleg Wadsworth. From the +very date of its erection, this structure became the object of not a +little pride among the citizens of Portland as the first in the town to +be made of brick; but this local fame grew in the course of a century +to world-wide celebrity when the dwelling came to be known as the +childhood home of the most loved of American poets. + +In 1808 the daughter of General Wadsworth, with her husband, Stephen +Longfellow, and their two little children, removed from the house in +the eastern part of Portland, where their second son, Henry, had been +born a little over a year before, to live in the Wadsworth home. There +the young mother, surrounded by the scenes endeared to her as those in +which her own youth had been spent, devoted herself to the care and +training of her children, while the father continued to pursue an +honorable career as a lawyer and able representative, in public +affairs, of the Federalist party. As the years passed, the little +family grew considerably until it came to consist of four girls and +five boys. Yet the mother found time for close companionship with all +of her children and active interest in the affairs of each. And the +father, though much occupied with duties outside of the home, watched +carefully the progress made by his boys and girls and tried to put in +their way the advantages that would help them to become rightminded and +useful men and women. + +[Illustration: HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 1807-1882] + +Indeed, so wholesome and well-ordered was the Longfellow home that it +must have been a pleasant place to look in upon when all the family had +assembled at evening in the living room. While the mother read perhaps +from a book of verse, for she was especially fond of poetry, and the +father gave himself up to some work on history, theology or law, the +children would study quietly for probably an hour or more. Then, their +lessons prepared, they would draw up in a little group to listen to a +story, possibly from the _Arabian Nights_, or would gather about the +piano in the parlor where Henry would sing to them the popular songs of +that day. Sometimes the music would become so irresistibly gay that the +children would begin to dance to its accompaniment and to awaken the +echoes of the staid old dwelling-house with sounds of unrestrained +delight that would have fallen with startling effect upon the ears of +their Puritan ancestors. + +Always a leader in these amusements was Henry Longfellow. His lively +nature found especial delight in social pleasures. In fact, when he was +but eight months old his mother discovered that he wished "for nothing +so much as singing and dancing." Then, too, he was fond of playing +ball, of swimming, coasting and skating and of all the other ordinary +games and sports. However, he was an especially thoughtful boy, and +even from his earliest years was a very conscientious student and took +pride in making a good record at school. During the years passed at the +Portland Academy, where he was placed when six years old, he worked so +industriously and with such excellent results that although he found it +very hard--too hard in fact--to be perfect in deportment, his earnest +efforts were recognized by the master of the school who sent home from +time to time a _billet_ or short statement in which Henry's recitations +and his general conduct were highly praised. The _billet_ was a matter +of no small consequence to the boy, at least in the earliest part of his +school life, for in his first letter--a few lines written with much +labor when he was seven years old, and sent to his father in Boston--one +of the four sentences that make up the curt little note announces with +due pride, "I shall have a billet on Monday." + +While the boy was pursuing his regular studies at school, he found +interest in reading other books than those required in his school +course--various English classics contained in his father's library. +Like the delight that he felt in such reading, was that which he found +in rambling through the woods on the outskirts of the town and about +the farms of his two grandfathers and of his uncle Stephenson. He liked +the quiet of natural scenes, and was moved with deep wonder by the +ever-changing beauty of the woods and fields, the ocean and the +mountains. Because of this genuine love for nature and his tender +regard for every living creature, he could not share his companions' +pleasure in hunting expeditions. Indeed, it is said that on one +occasion when he had shot a robin, he became so filled with pity and +sorrow for the little dead bird that he could never again take part in +such cruel sport. + +It was not long before the effect of the combined influences of Henry +Longfellow's reading of classic poets and of his rambles about the +country surrounding his native town was made apparent in an event that +doubtless seemed to him then to be the most important that had befallen +in his career of thirteen years. He had been visiting his grandfather +Wadsworth at Hiram, and while there had gone to a near-by town where is +situated Lovell's Pond, memorable as the scene of a struggle with the +Indians. + +Henry had been so moved by the story that he could relieve his feelings +only by telling it in verse. The four stanzas thus produced he so +longed to see in print that he could not resist the desire to convey +them secretly to the letter-box of the Portland _Gazette_, and deposit +them there with mingled hope and mistrust. With what keen expectation he +awaited the appearance of the newspaper perhaps only other youthful +authors in like positions can fully feel. When at length the paper +arrived, Henry must wait until his father had very deliberately opened +it, read its columns and then without comment had laid it aside, before +he could learn the fate of his verses. + +But when, at length, he had the opportunity to scan the columns of the +paper, he forgot all his anxiety and the hard period of waiting. There +on the page before him he saw: + + +_The Battle of Lovell's Pond_ + + Cold, cold is the north wind and rude is the blast + That sweeps like a hurricane loudly and fast, + As it moans through the tall waving pines lone and drear, + Sings a requiem sad o'er the warrior's bier. + + The war-whoop is still, and the savage's yell + Has sunk into silence along the wild dell; + The din of the battle, the tumult, is o'er + And the war-clarion's voice is now heard no more. + + The warriors that fought for their country--and bled, + Have sunk to their rest; the damp earth is their bed; + No stone tells the place where their ashes repose, + Nor points out the spot from the graves of their foes. + + They died in their glory, surrounded by fame, + And Victory's loud trump their death did proclaim; + They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast, + And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest. + + _Henry_. + +It is little wonder that through the day he read the verses again and +again and that his thoughts were filled with the excitement and joy of +success. That evening while visiting at the home of Judge Mellen, the +father of one of his closest friends, he was sitting interestedly +listening to a conversation on the subject of poetry, when he was +startled by seeing the judge take up the _Gazette_ and hearing him +say: "Did you see the piece in to-day's paper? Very stiff, remarkably +stiff; moreover, it is all borrowed, every word of it." So unexpected +and harsh was the censure that Henry felt almost crushed and could +hardly conceal his feelings until he could reach home. Not until he had +gone to bed and was shielded from all critical eyes did he give vent to +his bitter disappointment. + +In the following year (1821), his course at the Academy having come to +an end, he took the entrance examinations for Bowdoin College. Though +both he and his elder brother passed these successfully, they did not +go to the College at Brunswick for another year. Henry then entered +upon his course of study with such earnestness and enthusiasm that in a +class, consisting of students several of whom later became notable, he +ranked as one of the first. Like his classmate Hawthorne, he was +especially devoted to the study of literature. So genial and courteous +was his bearing toward all, and such a lively interest did he take in +all the worthier activities of the life at the college, that though he +chose as his intimate friends only those whose tastes agreed with his +own, he was generally liked and admired. + +Perhaps the success of his course at Bowdoin increased his confidence +in his ability to write for publication, though indeed it had been +proved that the outcome of his first venture along this line had not +after all destroyed the budding hopes of the young writer. For previous +to entering college he had continued to make contributions to the +_Gazette_. Other compositions in both prose and verse were now sent at +various times to the Portland periodical; and in October, 1824, appeared +in a Boston magazine entitled _The United States Literary Gazette_ the +first of a series of seventeen poems composed by _H. W. L._ + +A constant sympathizer and admirer during these early years of +authorship was Henry's friend William Browne, a boy whose literary +aspirations had led him to form with Henry, before the latter entered +Bowdoin, a sort of association by which various literary enterprises +were attempted. Indeed, it seems probable that at this time Henry +looked rather to such companions than to his parents for appreciation +of his developing ability. At all events, we find him writing to his +father in March, 1824: + +"I feel very glad that I am not to be a physician--that there are quite +enough in the world without me. And now, as somehow or other this +subject has been introduced, I am curious to know what you do intend to +make of me--whether I am to study a profession or not; and if so, what +profession. I hope your ideas upon this subject will agree with mine, +for I have a particular and strong prejudice for one course of life, to +which you, I fear, will not agree. It will not be worth while for me to +mention what this is, until I become more acquainted with your own +wishes." + +Later, however, urged by the unpleasant prospect of being compelled to +obey his father's desire that he become a lawyer, Henry decided that he +must express his own hopes quite plainly. In a letter of December, +1824, appears the passage: + +"The fact is--and I will not disguise it in the least, for I think I +ought not--the fact is, I most eagerly aspire after future eminence in +literature; my whole soul burns most ardently for it, and every earthly +thought centers in it. There may be something visionary in this, but I +flatter myself that I have prudence enough to keep my enthusiasm from +defeating its own object by too great haste. Surely, there never was a +better opportunity offered for the exertion of literary talent in our +own country than is now offered. To be sure, most of our literacy men +thus far have not been professedly so, until they have studied and +entered the practice of theology, law, or medicine. But this is +evidently lost time. I do believe that we ought to pay more attention +to the opinion of philosophers, that 'nothing but Nature can qualify a +man for knowledge.' + +"Whether Nature has given me any capacity for knowledge or not, she has +at any rate given me a very strong predilection for literary pursuits, +and I am almost confident in believing that, if I can ever rise in the +world, it must be by the exercise of my talent in the wide field of +literature. With such a belief, I must say that I am unwilling to +engage in the study of the law." + +Nevertheless, Stephen Longfellow was not convinced by his son's words +of the wisdom of the course proposed, and at length replied in no +uncertain terms: "A literary life, to one who has the means of support, +must be very pleasant. But there is not wealth enough in this country +to afford encouragement and patronage to merely literary men. And as +you have not had the fortune (I will not say whether good or ill) to be +born rich, you must adopt a profession which will afford you +subsistence as well as reputation." In the same letter, however, he +granted willingly Henry's request to be allowed a year at Cambridge for +the study of general literature. In response, the young student, after +thanking his father for the privilege of the proposed attendance at +Cambridge, writes: "Nothing delights me more than reading and writing. +And nothing could induce me to relinquish the pleasures of literature, +little as I have yet tasted them. Of the three professions I should +prefer the law. I am far from being a fluent speaker, but practice must +serve as a talisman where talent is wanting. I can be a lawyer. This +will support my real existence, literature an _ideal_ one." + +Henry's career at Bowdoin was now drawing to a close, and it is likely +that like most other students he regarded his graduation with some +degree of regret. For in addition to the deeper pleasure that he had +gained from his studies, he had found not a little enjoyment in the +social life at the college. His handsome appearance made him an +attractive figure at all gatherings; and his amiability and courtesy +caused him to be as well liked by the young women whom he met on these +occasions as by his classmates. In fact, the unusual refinement +expressed by his clear, fair complexion, the sincerity reflected in his +blue eyes, with their steadfast gaze, and the erect bearing of his +slender figure, won confidence and admiration everywhere. + +Whatever anxiety Henry Longfellow may have felt in looking forward to +the period that lay beyond his graduation from Bowdoin College was +wholly cleared away by a most surprising event that occurred at the +time of the closing exercises. A gift of money had been made to the +college for the purpose of founding a Professorship of the Modern +Languages, and it was now decided to establish this position. It is +said that one of the trustees of the college who had been very +favorably impressed by Henry Longfellow's translation of an ode of +Horace, proposed that he be appointed to the new office. As a result, +it was made known to the young graduate that if he would prepare +himself by a period of study in Europe, the professorship would be his +to accept. + +This unexpected good fortune was so gratifying to Henry's parents as +well as to himself that they decided at once to send him abroad at +their own expense. However, the plan could not be immediately carried +out; it was necessary to wait several months for a favorable sailing +season. The period of delay Henry spent partly in the composition of +various articles and poems, and partly in studying law. At length, when +spring was well advanced, he set sail from New York and a month later +reached the French city of Havre. Then began the period of three years +spent in travel through France, Spain, Italy and Germany, during which +he gave himself diligently to the study of the languages and +literatures of these countries and to extensive observation of manners +and customs, works of art, points of historic interest and to all else +that is of value to an eager, open-minded student. Thus he imbibed much +of the national spirit of these lands and came into such vital +appreciation of this spirit as it is expressed in literature that later +he was able to become a most successful translator and to use foreign +legends with excellent effect in his own compositions. + +During his second year abroad, in the midst of most satisfactory +progress, Henry received from his father the startling news that +Bowdoin College had withdrawn the offer of the professorship. The +mingled feelings thus awakened, and especially the reserve strength of +the young man's character, are made plain in his reply: + +"I assure you, my dear father, I am very indignant at this. They say I +am too young! Were they not aware of this three years ago? If I am not +capable of performing the duties of the office, they may be very sure +of my not accepting it. I know not in what light they may look upon it, +but for my own part, I do not in the least regard it as a favor +conferred upon me. It is no sinecure; and if my services are an +equivalent for my salary, there is no favor done me; if they be not, I +do not desire the situation. . . . I feel no kind of anxiety for my +future prospects. Thanks to your goodness, I have received a good +education. I know you cannot be dissatisfied with the progress I have +made in my studies. I speak honestly, not boastingly. With the French +and Spanish languages I am familiarly conversant, so as to speak them +correctly, and write them with as much ease and fluency as I do the +English. The Portuguese I read without difficulty. And with regard to +my proficiency in the Italian, I have only to say that all at the hotel +where I lodge took me for an Italian until I told them I was an +American." + +Nevertheless, when Henry returned to Portland in the summer of 1829, he +received the appointment to the desired professorship at Bowdoin +College, and went to live at Brunswick. His success was assured from +the start, for he had thoroughly prepared himself for his work, was +enthusiastic in his desire to share with his classes the impressions +received from the culture of the Old World, and was so young in years +and at heart that he could readily awaken the interest and sympathy of +youthful students. The earnestness and industry with which he devoted +himself to his duties at this time may be judged from the following +extract from a letter dated June 27, 1830: + +"I rise at six in the morning, and hear a French recitation of +Sophomores immediately. At seven I breakfast, and am then master of my +time till eleven, when I hear a Spanish lesson of Juniors. After that I +take a lunch; and at twelve I go into the library, where I remain till +one. I am then at leisure for the afternoon till five, when I have a +French recitation of Juniors. At six, I take coffee; then walk and +visit friends till nine; study till twelve, and sleep till six, when I +begin the same round again. Such is the daily routine of my life. The +intervals of college duty I fill up with my own studies. Last term I +was publishing text-books for the use of my pupils, in whom I take a +deep interest. This term I am writing a course of lectures on French, +Spanish and Italian literature. I shall commence lecturing to the two +upper classes in a few days. You see, I lead a very sober, jog-trot +kind of life. My circle of acquaintances is very limited. I am on very +intimate terms with three families, and that is quite enough. I like +intimate footings; I do not care for general society." + +In the following year (1831) the routine of his life at Brunswick was +interrupted by his marriage with Mary Storer Potter, one of the most +beautiful and generally liked young women of Portland. Her education +and tastes were such that they enabled her to share heartily her +husband's interests, and this sympathetic association in the work to +which he was devoted seemed to fill the measure of the young +professor's happiness. + +During the years spent in teaching at Bowdoin the career of Henry +Longfellow as a professional writer had run parallel with that of +teaching. In response to an invitation he had contributed various prose +articles to the _North American Review_ had written some poetry, and by +1835 had completed his _Outre-Mer_, a collection of prose sketches of +his travels. + +Not long before the publication of this work the author had received a +most desirable offer of the Smith professorship of Modern Languages at +Harvard University, with a salary of fifteen hundred dollars a year. In +accepting the position the young man decided upon a trip abroad for the +purpose of further study. Accordingly, with his wife he set sail for +Hamburg in June, 1835. They stayed for a short time in London, where +they met Carlyle, traveled then to Stockholm and Copenhagen, where the +summer was passed in learning the Swedish and Danish languages, and in +October reached Amsterdam. Here Mrs. Longfellow fell ill, and while she +was recovering her husband undertook the study of Dutch. In Rotterdam +Mrs. Longfellow again became ill, and died in that city on October 29. +The loss fell so heavily upon Longfellow that he could not speak nor +write of it. However, he disciplined himself to work and spent several +months at Heidelberg, gaining a fuller knowledge of the German language +and literature. In this city he met for the first time the poet Bryant. +After traveling in Switzerland he returned to America late in 1836. + +At the close of the same year he established himself at Cambridge, and +there began a career of large usefulness and success at Harvard +University. At the same time he wrote extensively both prose and verse, +and by the time of his third visit to Europe, in 1842, had produced the +prose romance _Hyperion_ as well as the volumes of verse entitled +_Voices of the Night_ and _Ballads and Other Poems_ and the drama _The +Spanish Student_. + +At this period of his life, Longfellow's journals and letters show much +unrest and even at times a loss of interest in his work. His trip +abroad for his health did not restore the satisfaction and contentment +that he had once known. The needs of both heart and mind must be +supplied in order that he might be at peace. Consequently we are not +surprised by his marriage, in July, 1843, to Frances Appleton, the +heroine of the romance _Hyperion_, and a most admirable and attractive +young woman, fitted in every way to be the companion of the poet. The +couple went to live in the Craigie House [Footnote: This house is +celebrated not only as the poet's home but as having been at one time +the headquarters of Washington.] at Cambridge, and entered upon a life +of almost ideal domestic harmony. + +Year after year passed, with little to mar the calm of the Longfellow +home. The professor's days were filled with lectures to the college +classes, with composition of original verse or translation from foreign +literature and with letter writing, answers to unnumbered requests for +autographs and calls from distinguished persons or from obscure but +aspiring writers. Only a man of rare patience and kindness would have +given such a great portion of his time as Longfellow gave during these +and all the subsequent years of his life to answering the many +inexcusable and often ridiculous requests for explanation of the +motives and meaning of his writings, for help in obtaining public +recognition, for criticism of poems that the writers submitted and for +a variety of other favors. + +Often there were visits to the opera or attendance at concerts, always +in company with Mrs. Longfellow. Sometimes the day was darkened by the +illness of one of the children. Then again, with the little ones of the +household, the Harvard professor, casting aside his dignity, with all +serious cares, would enter with all, his heart into some childish game. +Such a good time did he have that he found it worth while to make in +his journal such entries as: "Worked hard with the children, making +snow-houses in the front yard, to their infinite delight;" "After +dinner had all the children romping in the haymow;" "Coasted with my +boys (Charles and Ernest) for two hours on the bright hill-side behind +the Catholic Church;" "After tea, read to the boys the Indian story of +_The Red Swan._" Frequently he accompanied on pleasure excursions +his three daughters, the young girls described for us in the familiar +lines: + + "Grave Alice and laughing Allegra + And Edith with golden hair." + +From time to time the journal records an idea for a poem or the +beginning of the work of composition, sometimes expressing the doubts +and fears that attend this beginning. Thus under date of November 16, +1845, is the statement: + +"Before church, wrote 'The Arrow and the Song,' which came into my mind +as I stood with my back to the fire, and glanced on to the paper with +arrowy speed. Literally an improvisation." + +Later, on November 28, is recorded: "Set about 'Gabrielle,'[Footnote: +The poem Evangeline, to which the poet at first intended to give the +title Gabrielle.] my idyl in hexameters, in earnest. I do not mean to +let a day go by without adding something to it, if it be but a single +line. F. and Sumner are both doubtful of the measure. To me it seems +the only one for such a poem." And again, on December 7, "I know not +what name to give to--not my new baby, but my new poem. Shall it be +'Gabrielle,' or 'Celestine,' or 'Evangeline'?" In the journal for 1854 +is noted on June 22, "I have at length hit upon a plan for a poem on +the American Indian, which seems to me the right one and the only. It +is to weave together their beautiful traditions into a whole. I have +hit upon a measure, too, which I think the right and only one for such +a theme;" and on June 28, "Work at 'Manabozho'; or, as I think I shall +call it, 'Hiawatha,'--that being another name for the same personage." + +As these literary projects came to fill more and more the poet's +thought, he began to feel increasingly hampered by the work of his +college classes. So urgent did the desire become to rid himself of +duties that grew constantly more irksome, that at length, in 1854, he +resigned his professorship. The mingled relief and regret thus afforded +are expressed in his journal under date of September 12: "Yesterday I +got from President Walker a note, with copy of the vote of the +Corporation, accepting my resignation, and expressing regrets at my +retirement. I am now free! But there is a good deal of sadness in the +feeling of separating one's self from one's former life." + +For several years thereafter Longfellow's life flowed along peacefully. +These were most profitable years, for he was always an industrious +worker and would not allow moodiness or disinclination to work to +deprive him of opportunities for worthy labor. His three greatest +works, _Evangeline_, _Hiawatha_ and _The Courtship of Miles Standish_, +appeared at intervals of a few years. But this period of comparative +ease and quiet was brought to an abrupt close by the tragic death of +Mrs. Longfellow in 1861. Her dress had taken fire from a lighted match +that had fallen to the floor, and as a result she died the next day. + +The poet's grief and feeling of loss were inexpressible, yet he +maintained an appearance of calm. After a long time he became able to +resume his work, and in the years that remained to him, he produced, +besides minor writings, the two series of _The Tales of a Wayside +Inn_. But he never ceased to miss the close companionship of his +wife. He found consolation in caring for his children, sharing alike +their pleasures and their more serious interests. Then, too, he had +several intimate friends whose affection was always a source of great +joy to him. With the exception of a fourth trip to Europe, he passed +the rest of his life quietly, giving to the world the fruits of his +matured poetic powers, continually extending kindly encouragement to +struggling writers, and dispensing charity without parade of his +kindness. So fully were all the promises of his youth realized in his +character and his intellectual life during this final period, that when +death came in 1882, after a brief period of illness, the people of his +own land and those of many other nations as well felt that a great and +good man had passed from earth. + +One who reads the journal and the letters in which the home life of +Longfellow is plainly pictured is impressed perhaps even more than by +his poems with the fitness of his title, _The Children's Poet_. One +cannot fail to find, in such words as those in the following extract +from a letter, the gentleness of his regard for children: "My little +girls are flitting about my study, as blithe as two birds. They are +preparing to celebrate the birthday of one of their dolls; and on +the table I find this programme, in E.'s handwriting, which I purloin +and send to you, thinking it may amuse you. What a beautiful world this +child's world is! So instinct with life, so illuminated with +imagination! I take infinite delight in seeing it go on around me, and +feel all the tenderness of the words that fell from the blessed lips: +'Suffer the little children to come unto me.' After that benediction +how can any one dare to deal harshly with a child!" To this loving +interest children everywhere have responded. On the poet's seventy- +second birthday, about seven hundred children of Cambridge gave him an +armchair made of the chestnut-tree celebrated in _The Village +Blacksmith_. A poem was written in answer to the gift, and a copy of +this was given to every child who came to visit the poet and sit in his +chair. And children did come to visit him in great numbers. On one +occasion, in the summer of 1880, the journal records: "Yesterday I had +a visit from two schools: some sixty girls and boys, in all. It seems +to give them so much pleasure that it gives me pleasure." The last +letter that the poet is known to have written was one addressed to a +little girl who had sent him a poem on his seventy-fifth birthday; and +only four days before his death he received a visit from four Boston +boys in whose albums he placed his autograph. + +The strongest claim to the high regard in which Longfellow's poems are +held is based on the very qualities that endear him to his child- +readers. All his life, even in the midst of affliction and sorrow, he +was governed by true, deep kindness for all living things, and by a +spirit of helpfulness that is the most beautiful thing expressed in his +poetry. Then, too, he was willing always to write simply, that all +might be benefited by his pure, high thinking. So consistently and with +such power did he put into practice the religion of good will and +service to others that his life seems to have been a realization of the +desire expressed in Wordsworth's lines: + + "And I could wish my days to be + Bound each to each by natural piety." + +Some of Longfellow's poems that children like most are named in the +following paragraphs: + +Perhaps the most interesting for the youngest readers are _Paul Revere's +Ride_ and _The Wreck of the Hesperus; The Children's Hour_, in which the +poet tells of the daily play-time with his little girls; and _The +Village Blacksmith_, together with the verses _From My Arm-Chair_, +written when the children gave the chair made from the chestnut tree +that had once shaded the Village Blacksmith. + +Story-telling poems that children of from ten to twelve years of age +can enjoy are: _The Happiest Land_, _The Luck of Edenhall_, _The Elected +Knight_, _Excelsior_, _The Phantom Ship_, _The Discoverer of the North +Cape_, _The Bell of Atri_, _The Three Kings_, _The Emperor's Bird's +Nest_ and _The Maiden and the Weathercock_. _The Windmill_ and the +translation _Beware_ are especially lively, little poems; and _The Arrow +and the Song_ and _Children_ are quite as cheerful though quieter. More +serious is _The Day Is Done_, well liked for the restful melody; _The +Old Clock on the Stairs_, with its curious refrain; and the famous +_Psalm of Life_, the lesson of which has helped many a young boy and +girl. + +Among the story-poems for children older than twelve years are +Longfellow's greatest works, _Evangeline_, _Hiawatha_ and _The Courtship +of Miles Standish_; and the minor poems, _Elizabeth_, _The Beleaguered +City_ and _The Building of the Ship_. Nature poems that appeal to +readers of this age are the _Hymn to the Night_, _The Rainy Day_, _The +Evening Star_, _A Day of Sunshine_, _The Brook and the Wave_, _Rain in +Summer_, and _Wanderer's Night Songs_. + +Children who are fond of imagining will enjoy _The Belfry of Bruges_ and +_Travels by the Fireside_, and those who like song-poems may select _The +Bridge_ or _Stay, Stay at Home, My Heart_. + +Nearly all of the poems that have been named are found in collections +of Longfellow's works under the titles of the volumes in which they +were originally published. _A Psalm of Life_, for example, is one of the +group entitled _Voices of the Night_; and _Paul Revere's Ride_ is one of +the _Tales of a Wayside Inn_. + +[Illustration: HER GENTLE HAND IN MINE] + + + + +FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS + +_By_ HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW + + +When the hours of Day are numbered, + And the voices of the Night +Wake the better soul, that slumbered, + To a holy, calm delight; + +Ere the evening lamps are lighted, + And, like phantoms grim and tall, +Shadows from the fitful firelight + Dance upon the parlor wall; + +Then the forms of the departed + Enter at the open door; +The beloved, the true-hearted, + Come to visit me once more; + + He, the young and strong, who cherished + Noble longings for the strife, + By the roadside fell and perished, + Weary with the march of life! + + They, the holy ones and weakly, + Who the cross of suffering bore, + Folded their pale hands so meekly, + Spake with us on earth no more! + + And with them the Being Beauteous,* + Who unto my youth was given, + More than all things else to love me, + And is now a saint in heaven. + + With a slow and noiseless footstep + Comes that messenger divine, + Takes the vacant chair beside me, + Lays her gentle hand in mine. + + And she sits and gazes at me + With those deep and tender eyes, + Like the stars, so still and saint-like, + Looking downward from the skies. + + Uttered not, yet comprehended, + Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, + Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, + Breathing from her lips of air. + + O, though oft depressed and lonely, + All my fears are laid aside, + If I but remember only + Such as these have lived and died! + +*[Footnote: This refers to Longfellow's first wife, Mary Storer Potter, +whom he married in 1831. On his second visit to Europe, Mrs. Longfellow +died at Rotterdam in 1835.] + + + + +TO H. W. L., +ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 27TH FEBRUARY, 1867. + +_By_ JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL + + + I need not praise the sweetness of his song, + Where limpid verse to limpid verse succeeds + Smooth as our Charles, when, fearing lest he wrong + The new moon's mirrored skiff, he slides along, + Full without noise, and whispers in his reeds. + + With loving breath of all the winds his name + Is blown about the world, but to his friends + A sweeter secret hides behind his fame, + And Love steals shyly through the loud acclaim, + To murmur a _God bless you!_ and there ends. + + * * * * * + + Surely if skill in song the shears may stay + And of its purpose cheat the charmed abyss, + If our poor life be lengthened by a lay, + He shall not go, although his presence may, + And the next age in praise shall double this. + + Long days be his, and each as lusty-sweet + As gracious natures find his song to be; + May Age steal on with softly-cadenced feet + Falling in music, as for him were meet + Whose choicest verse is harsher-toned than he! + +While this little tribute may not be as simple to read as some of the +things in this book, yet it is beautiful to those who can read it. + +[Illustration: LONGFELLOW'S HOME AT CAMBRIDGE] + +One of the fine things about good poetry is that it will not only bear +study and examination, but will yield new beauty and new pleasure as it +is better understood. For instance, take the first stanza above. Lowell +says Longfellow's poetry is sweet and easily understood and that one +line follows another smoothly. To make us see how smoothly, he makes a +beautiful comparison, draws for us an exquisite picture. As smooth, he +says, as is our own river Charles when at night, fearing to disturb by +so much as a single ripple the reflection of the crescent moon, a +mirrored skiff, it glides along noiselessly but whispering gently to +the reeds that line its shores. + +Again, Lowell says that the very winds love Longfellow, and waft his +name about the world, giving him fame and honor; but his friends know +him to be a man with a loving heart, and so they steal up to him and +murmur through the noisy shoutings of the crowd a simple _God bless +you!_ which they know Longfellow will appreciate on his birthday +more than all his fame. + +To understand the first line in the third stanza, we must know of the +three Fates who in the old Greek myth controlled the life of every man. +One spun the thread of life, a second determined its course, and the +third stood by with shears ready to cut the thread where death was due. +Lowell says if being a skillful poet will make a man immortal, if +our life can be lengthened by a song, then Longfellow shall not leave +us even though his body goes, and in another generation his fame shall +be doubly great. + + + + +THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH + +_By_ HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW + + + Under a spreading chestnut-tree + The village smithy stands; + The smith, a mighty man is he, + With large and sinewy hands; + And the muscles of his brawny arms + Are strong as iron bands. + + His hair is crisp and black and long; + His face is like the tan; + His brow is wet with honest sweat,-- + He earns whate'er he can; + And looks the whole world in the face, + For he owes not any man. + + Week in, week out, from morn till night. + You can hear his bellows blow; + You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, + With measured beat and slow, + Like sexton ringing the village bell + When the evening sun is low. + + And children, coming home from school, + Look in at the open door; + They love to see the naming forge, + And hear the bellows roar, + And catch the burning sparks that fly + Like chaff from a threshing-floor. + +[Illustration: THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH] + + He goes on Sunday to the church, + And sits among his boys; + He hears the parson pray and preach, + He hears his daughter's voice, + Singing in the village choir, + And it makes his heart rejoice. + + It sounds to him like her mother's voice, + Singing in Paradise! + He needs must think of her once more, + How in the grave she lies; + And with his hard, rough hand he wipes + A tear out of his eyes. + + Toiling--rejoicing--sorrowing, + Onward through life he goes; + Each morning sees some task begin, + Each evening sees it close; + Something attempted, something done, + Has earned a night's repose. + + Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, + For the lesson thou hast taught! + Thus at the flaming forge of life + Our fortunes must be wrought; + Thus on its sounding anvil shaped + Each burning deed and thought! + +What a clear little poem this is! From beginning to end there is +scarcely a thing that needs to be explained. We can see the two +pictures almost as though they had been painted for us in colors. If +anything is obscure, it is the comparison of the sparks to the chaff +from a threshing-floor. And if that isn't clear to us it is because +times have changed, and we no longer see grain threshed out on a floor. +His "limpid verse to limpid verse succeeds, smooth as our Charles!" + +Longfellow uses skill in the song. He shows us the old blacksmith at +his forge and draws us with the other children to see his work. We +learn to love the strong old man, independent, proud and happy. We +sympathize with him as he weeps and admire him so much that we delight +at the lesson Longfellow so skillfully places at the end. + + + + +THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS + +_By_ HENRY WADSWOHTH LONGFELLOW + + +It was the schooner Hesperus, + That sailed the wintry sea; +And the skipper had taken his little daughter, + To bear him company. + +Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, + Her cheeks like the dawn of day, +And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds + That ope in the month of May. + +The skipper he stood beside the helm + His pipe was in his mouth, +And he watched how the veering flaw did blow + The smoke now West, now South. + +Then up and spake an old Sailor, + Had sailed the Spanish Main, +"I pray thee, put into yonder port, + For I fear a hurricane. + +"Last night the moon had a golden ring, + And to-night no moon we see!" +The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe, + And a scornful laugh laughed he. + +Colder and colder blew the wind + A gale from the Northeast; +The snow fell hissing in the brine, + And the billows frothed like yeast. + +[Illustration: He Bound Her To The Mast.] + + Down came the storm, and smote amain, + The vessel in its strength; + She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, + Then leaped her cable's length. + + "Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, + And do not tremble so; + For I can weather the roughest gale, + That ever wind did blow." + + He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat + Against the stinging blast; + He cut a rope from a broken spar, + And bound her to the mast. + + "O father! I hear the church-bells ring. + O say, what may it be?" + "'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!"-- + And he steered for the open sea. + + "O father! I hear the sound of guns. + O say, what may it be?" + "Some ship in distress, that cannot live + In such an angry sea!" + + "O father! I see a gleaming light. + O say, what may it be?" + But the father answered never a word, + A frozen corpse was he. + + Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, + With his face turned to the skies, + The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow + On his fixed and glassy eyes. + + Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed + That saved she might be; + And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave, + On the Lake of Galilee. + + And fast through the midnight dark and drear, + Through the whistling sleet and snow, + Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept + Towards the reef of Norman's Woe. + + And ever the fitful gusts between + A sound came from the land; + It was the sound of the trampling surf, + On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. + + The breakers were right beneath her bows, + She drifted a dreary wreck, + And a whooping billow swept the crew + Like icicles from her deck. + + She struck where the white and fleecy waves + Looked soft as carded wool, + But the cruel rocks, they gored her side + Like the horns of an angry bull. + + Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, + + With the masts went by the board; + Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, + Ho! ho! the breakers roared! + + At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, + A fisherman stood aghast, + To see the form of a maiden fair, + Lashed close to a drifting mast. + + The salt sea was frozen on her breast, + The salt tears in her eyes; + And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, + On the billows fall and rise. + + Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, + In the midnight and the snow! + Christ save us all from a death like this, + On the reef of Norman's Woe! + + + + +A DOG OF FLANDERS +[Footnote: This story has been abridged somewhat] + +_By_ LOUISE DE LA RAMEE + + +Nello and Patrasche were left all alone in the world. They were friends +in a friendship closer than brotherhood. + +Nello was a little Ardennois; Patrasche was a big Fleming. They were +both of the same age by length of years, yet one was still young and +the other already old. They had dwelt together almost all their days; +both were orphaned and destitute and owed their lives to the same hand. + +Their home was a little hut on the edge of a little Flemish village, a +league from Antwerp. + +It was the hut of an old man--a poor man--of old Jehan Daas, who in his +time had been a soldier and who remembered the wars that had trampled +the country as oxen tread down the furrows, and who had brought from +his service nothing except a wound which had made him a cripple. + +When Jehan Daas had reached his full eighty his daughter had died in +the Ardennes, hard by Stavelot, and had left him in legacy her two- +year-old son. The old man could ill contrive to support himself, but he +took up the additional burden uncomplainingly, and it soon became +welcome and precious to him. Little Nello--which was but a pet +diminutive for Nicholas--throve with him, and the old man and the +little child lived in the poor little hut contentedly. + +They were terribly poor--many a day they had nothing at all to eat. +They never by any chance had enough. To have had enough to eat would +have been to have reached paradise at once. But the old man was gentle +and good to the boy and the boy was a beautiful, innocent, truthful, +tender-hearted creature; and they were happy on a crust and a few +leaves of cabbage and asked no more of earth or heaven, save, indeed, +that Patrasche should be always with them, since without Patrasche +where would they have been? + +Jehan Daas was old and crippled and Nello was but a child--and +Patrasche was their dog. + +A dog of Flanders--yellow of hide, large of limb, with wolflike ears +that stood erect, and legs bowed and feet widened in the muscular +development wrought in his breed by the many generations of hard +service. Patrasche came of a race which had toiled hard and cruelly +from sire to son in Flanders many a century--slaves of slaves, dogs of +the people, beasts of the shafts and harness, creatures that lived +training their sinews in the gall of the cart, and died breaking their +hearts on the flints of the street. + +Before he was fully grown he had known the bitter gall of the cart and +collar. Before he had entered his thirteenth month he had become the +property of a hardware dealer, who was accustomed to wander over the +land north and south, from the blue sea to the green mountains. They +sold him for a small price because he was so young. + +This man was a drunkard and a brute. The life of Patrasche was a life +of abuse. + +His purchaser was a sullen, ill-living, brutal Brabantois, who heaped +his cart full with pots and pans, and flagons and buckets, and other +wares of crockery and brass and tin, and left Patrasche to draw the +load as best he might while he himself lounged idly by the side in fat +and sluggish ease, smoking his black pipe and stopping at every wine +shop or café on the road. + +One day, after two years of this long and deadly agony, Patrasche was +going on as usual along one of the straight, dusty, unlovely roads that +lead to the city of Rubens. + +It was full midsummer and exceedingly warm. His cart was heavy, piled +high with goods in metal and earthenware. His owner sauntered on +without noticing him otherwise than by the crack of the whip as it +curled around his quivering loins. + +The Brabantois had paused to drink beer himself at every wayside house, +but he had forbidden Patrasche to stop for a moment for a draft from +the canal. Going along thus, in the full sun, on a scorching highway, +having eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, and, which was far worse +for him, not having tasted water for nearly twelve; being blind with +dust, sore with blows, and stupefied with the merciless weight which +dragged upon his loins, Patrasche, for once, staggered and foamed a +little at the mouth and fell. + +He fell in the middle of the white, dusty road, in the full glare of +the sun; he was sick unto death and motionless. His master gave him the +only medicine in his pharmacy--kicks and oaths and blows with the oak +cudgel--which had been often the only food and drink, the only wage and +reward, ever offered to him. + +But Patrasche was beyond the reach of any torture or of any curses. +Patrasche lay, dead to all appearances, down in the white powder of the +summer dust. His master, with a parting kick, passed on and left him. + +After a time, among the holiday makers, there came a little old man who +was bent, and lame, and feeble. He was in no guise for feasting. He was +poor and miserably clad, and he dragged his silent way slowly through +the dust among the pleasure seekers. + +He looked at Patrasche, paused, wondered, turned aside, then kneeled +down in the rank grass and weeds of the ditch and surveyed the dog with +kindly eyes of pity. + +There was with him a little, rosy, fair-haired, dark-eyed child of a +few years old, who pattered in amid the bushes, that were for him +breast high, and stood gazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor, +great, quiet beast. + +Thus it was that these two first met--the little Nello and the big +Patrasche. They carried Patrasche home; and when he recovered he was +harnessed to the cart that carried the milk cans of the neighbors to +Antwerp. Thus the dog earned the living of the old man and the boy who +saved him. + +There was only one thing which caused Patrasche any uneasiness in his +life, and it was this: Antwerp, as all the world knows, is full at +every turn of old piles of stones, dark, and ancient, and majestic, +standing in crooked courts, jammed against gateways and taverns, rising +by the water's edge, with bells ringing above them in the air, and ever +and again out of their arched doors a swell of music pealing. + +There they remain, the grand old sanctuaries of the past, shut in amid +the squalor, the hurry, the crowds, the unloveliness, and the commerce +of the modern world, and all day long the clouds drift, and the birds +circle, and the winds sigh around them, and beneath the earth at their +feet there sleeps--Rubens. + +And the greatness of the mighty master still rests upon Antwerp. +Wherever we turn in its narrow streets his glory lies therein, so that +all mean things are thereby transfigured; and as we pace slowly through +the winding ways, and by the edge of the stagnant waters, and through +the noisome courts, his spirit abides with us, and the heroic beauty of +his visions is about us, and the stones that once felt his footsteps, +and bore his shadow, seem to rise and speak of him with living voices. +For the city which is the tomb of Rubens still lives to us through him, +and him alone. + +Now, the trouble of Patrasche was this: + +Into these great, sad piles of stones, that reared their melancholy +majesty above the crowded roofs, the child Nello would many and many a +time enter and disappear through their dark, arched portals, while +Patrasche, left upon the pavement, would wearily and vainly ponder on +what could be the charm which allured from him his inseparable and +beloved companion. + +[Illustration: RESCUE OF PATRASCHE] + +Once or twice he did essay to see for himself, clattering up the steps +with his milk cart behind him, but thereon he had been always sent back +again summarily by a tall custodian in black clothes and silver chains +of office, and, fearful of bringing his little master into trouble, he +desisted and crouched patiently before the church until such time as +the boy reappeared. + +What was it? wondered Patrasche. + +He thought it could not be good or natural for the lad to be so grave, +and in his dumb fashion he tried all he could to keep Nello by him in +the sunny fields or in the busy market places. + +But to the church Nello would go. Most often of all he would go to the +great cathedral; and Patrasche, left without on the stones by the iron +fragments of the Quentin Matsys's gate, would stretch himself and yawn +and sigh, and even howl now and then, all in vain, until the doors +closed and the child perforce came forth again, and, winding his arms +about the dog's neck, would kiss him on his broad, tawny-colored +forehead and murmur always the same words: + +"If I could only see them, Patrasche! If I could only see them!" + +What were they? pondered Patrasche, looking up with large, wistful, +sympathetic eyes. + +One day, when the custodian was out of the way and the doors left ajar, +he got in for a moment after his friend, and saw. "They" were two great +covered pictures on either side of the choir. + +Nello was kneeling, wrapt as in an ecstasy, before the altar picture of +the "Assumption," and when he noticed Patrasche and rose and drew the +dog gently out into the air, his face was wet with tears, and he looked +up at the veiled places as he passed them and murmured to his +companion: + +"It is so terrible not to see them, Patrasche, just because one is poor +and cannot pay! He never meant that the poor should not see them when +he painted them, I am sure. And they keep them shrouded there--- +shrouded in the dark---the beautiful things! And they never feel the +light, and no eyes look upon them unless rich people come and pay. If I +could only see them I would be content to die." + +But he could not see them, and Patrasche could not help him, for to +gain the silver piece that the church exacts for looking on the glories +of the "Elevation of the Cross" and the "Descent from the Cross" was a +thing as utterly beyond the powers of either of them as it would have +been to scale the heights of the cathedral spire. + +The whole soul of the little Ardennois thrilled and stirred with an +absorbing passion for art. + +Going on his way through the old city in the early daybreak before the +sun or the people had seen them, Nello, who looked only a little +peasant boy, with a great dog drawing milk to sell from door to door, +was in a heaven of dreams whereof Rubens was the god. Nello, cold and +hungry, with stockingless feet in wooden shoes, and the winter winds +blowing among his curls and lifting his poor, thin garments, was in +rapture of meditation wherein all that he saw was the beautiful face of +the Mary of "Assumption," with the waves of her golden hair lying upon +her shoulders and the light of an eternal sun shining down upon her +brow. Nello, reared in poverty, and buffeted by fortune, and untaught +in letters, and unheeded by men, had the compensation or the curse +which is called genius. + +No one knew it--he as little as any. No one knew it. + +"I should go to my grave quite content if I thought, Nello, that when +thou growest a man thou couldst own this hut and the little plat of +ground and labor for thyself and be called Baas by thy neighbors," said +the old man Jehan many an hour from his bed. + +Nello dreamed of other things in the future than of tilling the little +rood of earth, and living under the wattle roof, and being called Baas +by neighbors, a little poorer or a little less poor than himself. The +cathedral spire, where it rose beyond the fields in the ruddy evening +skies or in the dim, gray, misty morning, said other things to him than +this. But these he told only to Patrasche, whispering, childlike, his +fancies in the dog's ear when they went together at their work through +the fogs of the daybreak or lay together at their rest amongst the +rustling rushes by the water's side. + +There was only one other besides Patrasche to whom Nello could talk at +all of his daring fancies. This other was little Alois, who lived at +the old red mill on the grassy mound, and whose father, the miller, was +the best-to-do husbandman in all the village. + +Little Alois was a pretty baby, with soft, round, rosy features, made +lovely by those sweet, dark eyes that the Spanish rule has left in so +many a Flemish face. + +Little Alois often was with Nello and Patrasche. They played in the +fields, they ran in the snow, they gathered the daisies and bilberries, +they went up to the old gray church together, and they often sat +together by the broad wood fire in the millhouse. + +One day her father, Baas Cogez, a good man, but stern, came on a pretty +group in the long meadow behind the mill. + +It was his little daughter sitting amidst the hay, with the great, +tawny head of Patrasche on her lap, and many wreaths of poppies and +blue cornflowers round them both. On a clean, smooth slab of pine wood +the boy Nello drew their likeness with a stick of charcoal. + +The miller stood and looked at the portrait with tears in his eyes, it +was so strangely like, and he loved his own child closely and well. +Then he roughly chid the little girl for idling there whilst her mother +needed her within, and sent her indoors crying and afraid. Then, +turning, he snatched the wood from Nello's hands. + +[Illustration: NELLO AND PATRASCHE] + +"Dost much of such folly?" he asked. But there a tremble in his voice. + +Nello colored and hung his head. "I draw everything I see," he +murmured. + +Baas Cogez went into his millhouse sore troubled in his mind. "This lad +must not be so much with Alois," he said to his wife that night. +"Trouble may come of it hereafter. He is fifteen now and she is twelve, +and the lad is comely." And from that day poor Nello was allowed in the +millhouse no more. + +Nello had a secret which only Patrasche knew. There was a little +outhouse to the hut, which no one entered but himself--a dreary place +but with an abundant clear light from the north. Here he had fashioned +himself rudely an easel in rough lumber, and here, on the great sea of +stretched paper, he had given shape to one of the innumerable fancies +which possessed his brain. + +No one ever had taught him anything; colors he had no means to buy; he +had gone without bread many a time to procure even the poor vehicles +that he had there; and it was only in black and white that he could +fashion the things he saw. This great figure which he had drawn here in +chalk was only an old man sitting on a fallen tree--only that. He had +seen old Michel, the woodman, sitting so at evening many a time. + +He never had had a soul to tell him of outline or perspective, of +anatomy or of shadow, and yet he had given all the weary, worn-out age, +all the sad, quiet patience, all the rugged, careworn pathos of his +original, and given them so that the old, lonely figure was a poem, +sitting there, meditative and alone, on the dead tree, with the +darkness of descending night behind him. + +It was rude, of course, in a way, and had many faults no doubt; and yet +it was real, true to nature, true to art, mournful, and, in a manner, +beautiful. + +Patrasche had lain quiet countless hours watching its gradual creation +after the labor of each day was done, and he knew that Nello had a +hope--vain and wild perhaps, but strongly cherished--of sending this +great drawing to compete for a prize of 200 francs a year, which it was +announced in Antwerp would be open to every lad of talent, scholar or +peasant, under eighteen, who attempted to win it with unaided work of +chalk or pencil. Three of the foremost artists in the town of Rubens +were to be the judges and elect the victor according to his merits. + +All the spring and summer and autumn Nello had been at work upon this +treasure, which, if triumphant, would build him his first steps toward +independence and the mysteries of the arts, which he blindly, +ignorantly and yet passionately adored. + +The drawings were to go in on the 1st of December and the decision to +be given on the 24th, so that he who should win might rejoice with all +his people at the Christmas season. + +In the twilight of a bitter winter day, and with a beating heart, now +quick with hope, now faint with fear, Nello placed the great picture on +his little green milk cart and left it, as enjoined, at the doors of a +public building. + +He took heart as he went by the cathedral. The lordly form of Rubens +seemed to rise from the fog and darkness and to loom in its +magnificence before him, whilst the lips, with their kindly smile, +seemed to him to murmur, "Nay, have courage! It was not by a weak heart +and by faint fears that I wrote my name for all time upon Antwerp." + +The winter was sharp already. That night, after they reached the hut, +snow fell, and it fell for many days after that, so that the paths and +the divisions of the fields were all obliterated, and all the smaller +streams were frozen over and the cold was intense upon the plains. +Then, indeed, it became hard work to go round for milk, while the world +was all dark, and carry it through the darkness to the silent town. + +In the winter time all drew nearer to each other, all to all except to +Nello and Patrasche, with whom none now would have anything to do, +because the miller had frowned upon the child. Nello and Patrasche were +left to fare as they might with the old, paralyzed, bedridden man in +the little cabin, whose fire often was cold, and whose board often was +without bread, for there was a buyer from Antwerp who had taken to +drive his mule in of a day for the milk of the various dairies, and +there were only three or four of the people who had refused the terms +of purchase and remained faithful to the little green cart. So that the +burden which Patrasche drew had become light, and the centime pieces in +Nello's pouch had become, alas! light likewise. + +The weather was wild and cold. The snow was six feet deep; the ice was +firm enough to bear oxen and men upon it everywhere. At this season the +little village always was gay and cheerful. At the poorest dwelling +there were possets and cakes, sugared saints and gilded Jesus. The +merry Flemish bells jingled everywhere on the horses, everywhere within +doors some well-filled soup pot sang and smoked over the stove, and +everywhere over the snow without laughing maidens pattered in bright +kerchiefs and stout skirts going to and from mass. Only in the little +hut it was dark and cold. + +[Illustration: NELLO LEFT HIS PICTURE AT THE DOOR] + +Nello and Patrasche were left utterly alone; for one night in the week +before the Christmas day death entered there and took away from life +forever old Jehan Daas. who had never known of life aught save poverty +and pain. He had long been half dead, incapable of any movement except +a feeble gesture, and powerless for anything beyond a gentle word. And +yet his loss fell on them both with a great horror in it; they mourned +him passionately. He had passed away from them in his sleep, and when +in the gray dawn they learned their bereavement, unbearable solitude +and desolation seemed to close around them. He had long been only a +poor, feeble, paralyzed old man who could not raise a hand in their +defense, but he had loved them well; his smile always had welcomed +their return. They mourned for him unceasingly, refusing to be +comforted, as in the white winter day they followed the deal shell that +held his body to the nameless grave by the little church. They were his +only mourners, these two whom he had left friendless upon the earth-- +the young boy and the old dog. + +Nello and Patrasche went home with broken hearts. But even of that +poor, melancholy, cheerless home they were denied the consolation. +There was a month's rental overdue for the little place, and when Nello +had paid the last sad service to the dead he had not a coin left. He +went and begged grace of the owner of the hut, a cobbler who went every +Sunday night to drink his pint of wine and smoke with Baas Cogez. The +cobbler would grant no mercy. He claimed in default of his rent every +stick and stone, every pot and pan in the hut, and bade Nello and +Patrasche to be out of it by to-morrow. + +All night long the boy and the dog sat by the fireless hearth in the +darkness, drawn close together for warmth and sorrow. Their bodies were +insensible to the cold, but their hearts seemed frozen in them. + +When the morning broke over the white, chill earth it was the morning +of Christmas eve. With a shudder Nello clasped close to him his only +friend, while his tears fell hot and fast on the dog's forehead. + +"Let us go, Patrasche; dear, dear Patrasche!" he murmured. "We will not +wait to be kicked out. Let us go." + +They took the old accustomed road into Antwerp. The winner of the +drawing prize was to be proclaimed at noon, and to the public building +where he had left his treasure Nello made his way. On the step and in +the entrance hall there was a crowd of youths--some of his age, some +older, all with parents or relatives or friends. His heart was sick +with fear as he went amongst them, holding Patrasche close to him. + +The great bells of the city clashed out the hour of noon with brazen +clamor. The doors of the inner hall were opened; the eager, panting +throng rushed in. It was known that the selected picture would be +raised above the rest upon a wooden dais. + +A mist obscured Nello's sight, his head swam, his limbs almost failed +him. When his vision cleared he saw the drawing raised on high; it was +not his own. A slow, sonorous voice was proclaiming aloud that victory +had been adjudged to Stephan Kiesslinger, born in the burg of Antwerp, +son of a wharfinger in that town. + +When Nello recovered consciousness he was lying on the stones without, +and Patrasche was trying with every art he knew to call him back to +life. In the distance a throng of youths of Antwerp were shouting +around their successful comrade and escorting him with acclamation to +his home upon the quay. + +He rallied himself as best he could, for he was weak from fasting, and +retraced his steps to the village. Patrasche paced by his side with his +head drooping and his strong limbs feeble under him from hunger and +sorrow. + +The snow was falling fast; a keen hurricane blew from the north; it was +bitter as death on the plains. It took them long to traverse the +familiar paths, and the bells were sounding four of the clock as they +approached the hamlet. Suddenly Patrasche paused, arrested by a scent +in the snow, scratched, whined, and drew out with his teeth a small +case of brown leather. He held it up to Nello in the darkness. Where +they were there stood a little Calvary, and a lamp burned dully under +the cross. The boy mechanically turned the bag to the light. On it was +the name of Baas Cogez and within it were notes for 6,000 francs. + +The sight aroused the lad a little from his stupor. He thrust it in his +shirt and stroked Patrasche and drew him onward. + +Nello made straight for the millhouse and went to the house-door and +struck on the panels. The miller's wife opened it, weeping, with little +Alois clinging close to her skirts. + +"Is it thee, thou poor lad?" she asked kindly through her tears. "Get +thee gone ere the Baas sees thee. We are in sore trouble to-night. He +is out seeking for a power of money that he has let fall riding +homeward, and in this snow he never will find it. And God knows it will +go nigh to ruin us. It is heaven's own judgment for the things we have +done to thee." + +Nello put the note case within her hand and signed to Patrasche within +the house. + +"Patrasche found the money to-night," he said quickly. "Tell Baas Cogez +so. I think he will not deny the dog shelter and food in his old age. +Keep him from pursuing me, and I pray of you to be good to him." + +Ere woman or dog knew what he did he had stooped and kissed Patrasche, +then had closed the door hurriedly on him and had disappeared in the +gloom of the fast falling night. + +It was six o'clock at night when, from an opposite entrance, the miller +at last came, jaded and broken, into his wife's presence. "It is lost +forever," he said, with an ashen cheek and a quiver in his voice. "We +have looked with lanterns everywhere. It is gone--the little maiden's +portion and all." + +His wife put the money into his hand and told him how it had come back +to her. The strong man sank, trembling, into a seat and covered his +face with his hands, ashamed, almost afraid. + +"I have been cruel to the lad," he murmured at length. "I deserve not +to have good at his hands." + +Little Alois, taking courage, crept close to her father, and nestled +against him her curly, fair head. + +"Nello may come here again, father?" she whispered. "He may come to- +morrow, as he used to do?" + +The miller pressed her in his arms. His hard, sunburned face was pale +and his mouth trembled. "Surely, surely," he answered his child. "He +shall bide here on Christmas day and any other day he will. In my greed +I sinned, and the Lord chastened me. God helping me, I will make amends +to the boy--I will make amends." + +When the supper smoked on the board and the voices were loudest and +gladdest, and the Christ child brought choicest gifts to Alois, +Patrasche, watching always an occasion, glided out when the door was +unlatched by a careless newcomer, and as swiftly as his weak and tired +limbs would bear him, sped over the snow in the bitter, black night. He +had only one thought--to follow Nello. + +Snow had fallen freshly all evening long. It was now nearly ten +o'clock. The trail of the boy's footsteps was almost obliterated. It +took Patrasche long and arduous labor to discover any scent which could +guide him in pursuit. When at last he found it, it was lost again +quickly, and lost and recovered, and again lost, and again recovered a +hundred times and more. It was all quite dark in the town. Now and then +some light gleamed ruddily through the crevices and house shutters, or +some group went homeward with lanterns, chanting drinking songs. The +streets were all white with ice, and high walls and roofs loomed black +against them. There was scarce a sound save the riot of the wind down +the passages as it tossed the creaking signs. + +So many passers-by had trodden through and through the snow, so many +diverse paths had crossed and recrossed each other that the dog had a +hard task to retain any hold of the track he followed. But he kept on +his way though the cold pierced him to the bone and the jagged ice cut +his feet, and the hunger in his body gnawed like a rat's tooth. But he +kept on his way--a poor, gaunt, shivering, drooping thing--in the +frozen darkness, that no one pitied as he went--and by long patience +traced the steps he loved into the heart of the burg and up to the +steps of the great cathedral. + +"He is gone to the things that he loved," thought Patrasche. He could +not understand, but he was full of sorrow and of pity for the art +passion that to him was so incomprehensible and yet so sacred. + +The portals of the cathedral were unclosed after the midnight mass. +Some heedlessness in the custodians, too eager to go home and feast or +sleep, or too drowsy to know whether they turned the keys aright, had +left one of the doors unlocked. By that accident the footfalls +Patrasche sought had passed through into the building, leaving the +white marks of the snow upon the dark stone floor. + +By that slender white thread, frozen as it fell, he was guided through +the intense silence, through the immensity of the vaulted space--guided +straight to the gates of the chancel--and stretched there upon the +stones, he found Nello. He crept up noiselessly and touched the face of +the boy. + +"Didst thou dream that I should be faithless and forsake thee? I--a +dog?" said that mute caress. + +The lad raised himself with a low cry and clasped him close. + +"Let us lie down and die together," he murmured. "Men have no need of +us, and we are all alone." + +In answer Patrasche crept closer yet and laid his head upon the young +man's breast. The tears stood in his great, brown, sad eyes. Not for +himself; for himself he was happy. + +Suddenly through the darkness a great white radiance streamed through +the vastness of the aisles. The moon, that was at her height, had +broken through the clouds. The snow had ceased to fall. The light +reflected from the snow without was clear as the light of dawn. It fell +through the arches full upon the two pictures above, from which the +boy, on his entrance, had flung back the veil. "The Elevation" and "The +Descent from the Cross" for one instant were visible as by day. + +Nello rose to his feet and stretched his arms to them. The tears of a +passionate ecstasy glistened on the paleness of his face. + +"I have seen them at last!" he cried aloud. "Oh God, it is enough!" + +When the Christmas morning broke and the priests came to the temple +they saw them lying on the stones together. Above, the veils were drawn +back from the great visions of Rubens, and the fresh rays of the +sunrise touched the thorn-crowned head of God. + +As the day grew on there came an old, hard-featured man who wept as +women weep. + +"I was cruel to the lad," he murmured, "and now I would have made +amends--yea, to the half of my substance--and he should have been to me +as a son." + +There came also as the day grew apace a painter who had fame in the +world and who was liberal of hand and of spirit. + +"I seek one who should have had the prize yesterday had worth won," he +said to the people, "a boy of rare promise and genius. An old +woodcutter on a fallen tree at eventide, that was all his theme. I +would find him and take him with me and teach him art." + +And a little child with curling fair hair, sobbing bitterly as she +clung to her father's arm, cried aloud: "O Nello, come! We have all +ready for thee. The Christ child's hands are full of gifts, and the old +piper will play for us; and the mother says thou shalt stay by the +hearth and burn nuts with us all the Noel week long--yes even to the +feast of the kings! And Patrasche will be happy! O Nello, wake and +come!" + +But the young, pale face, turned upward to the great Rubens with a +smile upon its mouth, answered them all, "It is too late." + +For the sweet sonorous hells went ringing through the frost, and the +sunlight shone upon the plains of snow, and the populace trooped gay +and glad through the streets, but Nello and Patrasche no more asked +charity at their hands. All they needed now Antwerp gave unbidden. + +When they were found the arms of the boy were folded so closely around +the dog that it was difficult to draw them away. The people of the +little village, contrite and ashamed, took the little boy tenderly in +their arms and bore him away to his last resting place. Patrasche was +not forgotten, for all the villagers felt the strength of his devotion. + + * * * * * + +Of all the characters in this story, which is the most important and +the most interesting? The author has showed us which she considers the +most important by the title she has given to the tale--_A Dog of +Flanders_. Let us see just what she has told us about Patrasche, +that we may know whether he is worthy of being the hero of a story. + +First, as to his appearance, we are given the following facts: + +1. Yellow of hide. + +2. Large of limb. + +3. Wolflike ears. + +4. Legs bowed and feet widened. + +5. Large, wistful, sympathetic eyes. + +6. Great, tawny head. + +7. (Later) Drooping and feeble; gaunt. + +The picture which the author paints for us of Patrasche's appearance is +not beautiful; we do not love him just for his looks. As to his +character and abilities, we are told, or are enabled to find out from +his actions, the following things: + +1. Strong and industrious. He used to draw the heavy cart of the +hardware dealer. + +2. Grateful. He loved those who had saved his life, and worked for them +willingly. + +3. Careful of his young master. He was troubled when Nello went into +the dim churches. + +4. Wise. He felt that it was good for Nello to be as much as possible +in the sunny fields or among happy people. + +5. Sympathetic. He looked at Nello with _wistful, sympathetic eyes_. + +6. Understanding. He realized that the picture that Nello was drawing +was something which meant much to him. + +7. Loving. He grieved passionately with Nello at the old man's death. + +8. Acute of sense. He discovered the pocket book in the snow. + +9. Faithful. He refused to stay in the miller's warm kitchen while +Nello was out in the cold. + +10. Persistent and patient. He never gave up the search, difficult +though it was, until he had found his master. + +11. Unselfish. He was happy for himself, but he wept because his master +was unhappy. + +Do you think a dog could have all these qualities, or do you think the +author, in her anxiety to have us like the dog, has given him +characteristics which he could not really possess? Have you not, +yourself, known dogs that were as intelligent, as affectionate and as +faithful as Patrasche? + + + + +ALICE AND PHOEBE CARY + +_By_ ANNA McCALEB + + +In the writings of Alice and Phoebe Cary are to be found many +references which show how fondly they remembered the little brown house +in which they were born. This house was on a farm in the Miami Valley +in Ohio, eight miles north of Cincinnati. Alice was born April 26th, +1820, and Phoebe, September 24th, 1824, and there was one brother +between them. Robert Gary, the father, was a kindly, gentle man, fond +of reading, especially romances and poetry. The education for which he +had so much longed he had been unable to obtain, and this made him +quiet and diffident with strangers, although in his own family he was +most loving and most companionable. Even the animals on the farm loved +him, and the horses and cattle would follow him about watching for the +kindly word and pat, or for the lump of salt or sugar which he was so +certain to have for them. This Robert Cary was a descendant of Sir +Robert Cary, a famous English knight of the time of Henry V, and Phoebe +was always very proud of this ancestry of hers--so proud, in fact, that +she had the Gary arms engraved on a seal ring. + +It would seem that the enthusiastic admiration which the daughters all +their life had for their mother was nothing beyond her deserts, for she +seems to have been far from an ordinary woman. Despite the fact that +she had nine children, and that she did the work for the entire family, +she managed to keep up her interest in public affairs, and to read +history, essays, biography and politics, as often as books on such +subjects came to her hand. + +In the little brown house with its overhanging cherry tree, which +tapped the roof and scratched the attic window-panes, and with its +sweetbrier under the window, the children lived a simple and happy +life. Naturally in a family of this size they divided themselves into +groups, and Alice and Phoebe, who in their later life were so +inseparable, do not seem to have singled each other out as companions +in their childhood. Alice's special comrade was her next older sister, +Rhoda, Thom she persisted to her dying day in thinking of as the real +genius of the family, while the constant playmate of the active Phoebe +was her next younger brother. The children spent much time out-of- +doors, gathering nuts and flowers in their season, and gaining that +love of nature which stayed with them all their lives. As they grew +older, they were sent to the district school, and were taught household +tasks, Alice taking readily enough to housekeeping, while Phoebe +became, even as a child, remarkably proficient with the needle. + +The struggle to keep out of debt was a constant one with the Cary +family, and Alice said long years afterward, "For the first fourteen +years of my life it seemed as if there was actually nothing in +existence but work." However, By 1832 family affairs had improved +somewhat, and a new and larger house was built upon the farm. It seemed +as if all the ill luck of the family dated from the building of the new +house, in which they were never as happy as they had been in the little +brown house. + +When she was a woman, Alice told with perfect faith the "family ghost +story," which concerned this new house. She said that just before the +removal of the family to the new house, they were all driven to the +shelter of the old house by a sudden and violent summer storm. As Alice +herself stood at the window looking out, she exclaimed to her mother, +"Why is Rhoda at the new house with baby Lucy, and why does she have +the door open?" + +They all looked, and all saw Rhoda standing in the doorway of the new +house, with the baby in her arms. + +"She was probably out with the child and took shelter in the nearest +place when the storm came up," said the mother, and then she called +loudly, "Rhoda!" + +The figure in the doorway did not move, and in a few moments Rhoda came +down from upstairs, where she had left little Lucy asleep, declaring +that she had not been near the new house. + +The family believed most sincerely that this was a warning of trouble +to come, and certain it is that in 1833, within one month of each +other, Rhoda and little Lucy died. Lucy had been Alice's special +charge, as Rhoda had been her special companion, and the girl's heart +was almost broken by this double loss. How deep and lasting her grief +was may be seen from a remark that she made to one of her friends, +speaking of Lucy's death. + +"I was not fourteen when she died--I am almost fifty now. It may seem +strange when I tell you that I do not believe that there has been an +hour of any day since her death in which I have not thought of her and +mourned for her." + +In 1835 Mrs. Cary died, and two years later the father married again. +The stepmother, a hard-headed, practical woman, could see nothing but +laziness in the desire of Alice and Phoebe to read and write. During +the day she insisted that they must keep busy about the house; in the +evening she refused to allow them to burn candles, and thus the girls +often worked with no light except what was afforded by a saucer of lard +with a twist of rag stuck into it for a wick. For books they had but +the Bible, a Hymn Book, a _History of the Jews, Lewis and Clark's +Travels_, Pope's _Essays_, _Charlotte Temple_, a romance, and a +mutilated novel, _The Black Penitents_. The last pages of this novel +were missing, and Alice often declared that it was a lifelong regret to +her that she never learned how the story "turned out." + +With these meager helps and with no incentives to work except their own +desires, Alice and Phoebe constantly wrote poems and stories. At the +age of fourteen, Phoebe, without telling her father or even her sister, +sent a poem to a Boston publisher. She heard nothing from it, but some +time later came upon it, copied in a Cincinnati paper from the Boston +journal. She laughed and cried in her excitement, but still she told no +one. + +About this time the father and stepmother removed to another house +which had been built on the farm, and left the children in possession +of the old one, so that their life was decidedly happier and their +chances for work were multiplied. + +Alice from this time on published numerous poems, chiefly in church +papers, and her writings began to attract attention throughout the +country. There was a freshness and charm about her little poems which +won for them the favorable opinion of some of the best judges of poetry +in the country. Of her "Pictures of Memory," Poe said that it was one +of the most rhythmically perfect lyrics in the English language. +Whittier wrote to the sisters, and Horace Greeley visited them in 1849, +and thus slowly they gained the recognition and the encouragement which +led them in 1850 to a rather daring step. + +This was no less than a removal to New York. Alice went first, but she +soon sent for Phoebe and their younger sister Elmina. In thus setting +out for the great city and settling down to earn her living, Alice Cary +was no doubt influenced by a rather painful circumstance which had +taken place in her life. There had come to their neighborhood, some +little time before, a man, her superior in age and education, who had +recognized her unusual gifts and attractiveness, and had spent much +time with her. She came to love him deeply and sincerely, and it would +seem that he was but little less attracted by her. However, his family +managed to persuade him that his best interests demanded that he should +not marry this country-bred girl, and he returned to his home, leaving +Alice to watch and hope for his coming. The gradual relinquishment of +her dream and the final conviction that the sort of home life for which +she felt herself most fitted was not after all to be hers, led Alice +Cary to feel that she must take up some definite work to support +herself and to help her sisters. She herself said later, in speaking +about the removal to New York, "Ignorance stood me in the stead of +courage and of books"--she knew so little about the great city to which +she was going that she feared it little. + +The sisters made up their minds from the first that they would have a +home; they had a horror of the boarding-house atmosphere. Their first +home was but two, or three rooms, high up in a big building in an +unfashionable part of the town. Alice papered rooms, Phoebe painted +doors and framed pictures; but the impress of their individuality was +on the rooms, and every one who entered them felt their coziness and +"hominess." Papers and magazines paid but little for contributions in +those days, and it was only by living in the most economical and humble +way that they managed to avoid their great horror--debt. But their life +was by no means barren, for they became acquainted with many pleasant +people, who were always glad and proud to be invited to the little tea +parties in the three rooms under the roof. + +The publication in 1852 of Alice's _Clovernook Papers_ brought to +her increasing recognition and new friends. These simple, original +little sketches of rural scenery and rural life were just the things +which Alice Cary knew best how to write, and they became very popular +all over the country. Before 1856 the sisters had removed to the pretty +house in Twentieth Street which was their home for the rest of their +lives. Alice bought the house and the furnishings; indeed it was she +who did most of the planning for the household, and who paid most of +the bills. She worked early and late, driven always by the obligations +to be met. A biographer says of her: "I have never known any other +woman so systematically and persistently industrious as Alice Cary." +Phoebe worked indeed, but spasmodically--she waited on her moods. + +The home life of the sisters was most pleasant and simple. They had no +"society manners;" the witty Phoebe was as willing to flash out her +brightest puns for Alice's enjoyment as she was for a drawing-room full +of appreciative listeners; while Alice's gentleness and sweetness were +shown constantly to her sister and were not reserved for company only. +Their great occasions were their Sunday evening receptions, and the +people who gathered then under their roof were far from an ordinary +company. Horace Greeley, Bayard Taylor, Richard and Elizabeth Stoddard, +Justin McCarthy, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Ole Bull, P. T. Barnum, +Elizabeth Cady Stanton--these were but a part of the brilliant company +which delighted to gather on Sunday evening and enjoy the sweetness and +womanliness of Alice, and the wit of Phoebe. + +Interrupted by the death of the beloved younger sister Elmina, this +life in the Twentieth Street house went on for over twelve years, until +in 1868 Alice Cary became a confirmed invalid. After she was confined +to her room, however, she wanted life and brightness about her, and had +the door of her room always left open, that she might hear the cheerful +sounds of the household. + +[Illustration: ALICE CARY 1820-1871] + +During their life in New York, Phoebe had had numerous offers of +marriage, but it had never cost her anything to say, "I don't want to +marry anybody." Soon after the beginning of Alice's invalid days, +however, Phoebe received an offer of marriage from a man whom she felt +that she could love, and with whom she was sure she could be happy. She +had always felt that in the home she was second to Alice, and she +confessed once to a friend, "Sometimes I feel a yearning to have a life +of my very own; my own house and work and friends; and to feel myself +the center of all." + +However, much as it cost her, she resolutely put away the thought of +this possible happiness because she knew that her sister could not +endure her absence in what were very clearly the last days of her life. + +In February, 1870, Alice Cary died, and Phoebe from that time on seemed +but half a person. To one of her friends she said pathetically: "For +thirty years I have gone straight to her bedside as soon as I arose in +the morning, and wherever she is, I am sure she wants me now." She +tried to take up her work--indeed she felt that in her sister's absence +she had double work to do; but it was of no use, and in a little more +than a year after her sister's death she too died. + +These two sisters, who were so constantly associated for so many years, +differed very decidedly in many respects. Alice, the frailer in body, +was much the stronger in will power; indeed her ability to force +herself to begin and to stick to anything which she thought was to be +done was the marvel of her friends. This intense energy often jarred on +the more easy-going Phoebe, just as Phoebe's refusal to do literary +work unless she were exactly in the right mood, often jarred upon +Alice. However, the two sisters never showed their irritation; they +were always sweet and gentle in their dealings with each other. + +Naturally, Alice's superior energy resulted in an output of literary +work which was much larger than Phoebe's. There was a difference, too, +besides that of quantity in the work of the sisters. Alice possessed a +more objective imagination, that is, she could, in the ballads which +she was so fond of writing, place herself in the position of those whom +she was describing, and make their feelings her own. Phoebe, on the +other hand, in her serious poems held more closely to her own +experiences. Both the sisters were very fond of children, though in a +different way, Alice feeling for them a sort of mother-love, while +Phoebe always felt toward them as though they were comrades. It is the +genuine love for children which makes the children's stories and poems +of Alice and Phoebe Cary live. + +Shortly after Phoebe died one of her friends wrote, "The wittiest woman +in America is dead;" and constantly on all sides was heard the saying, +"O, if I had only taken down the many wonderfully bright things that I +heard her say!" Her parodies have rarely been excelled, and some of her +humorous poems are irresistibly funny. The best known perhaps of her +parodies is the one on Longfellow's _The Day Is Done_, of which a +stanza may be quoted here. For the original stanza which runs: + + "I see the lights of the village + Gleam through the rain and the mist, + And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, + That my soul cannot resist: + A feeling of sadness and longing, + That is not akin to pain, + And resembles sorrow only + As the mist resembles the rain," + +Phoebe Gary substituted the words: + + "I see the lights of the baker + Gleam through the rain and the mist, + And a feeling of hunger comes o'er me, + That my soul cannot resist: + A feeling of sadness and longing + That is not like being sick + And resembles sorrow only, + As a brickbat resembles a brick." + +However, more than for anything else, perhaps, Phoebe Cary will be +remembered for her lyric, _One Sweetly Solemn Thought_. Not long +before she died she heard a story of something which this little +poem had accomplished, which made her very happy. A gentleman going to +China was entrusted with a package for an American boy in China. +Arriving at his destination, he failed to find the boy, but was told +that he might discover him in a certain gambling house. As he sat and +waited, he watched with disgust and loathing the dreadful scenes going +on about him. At a table near him sat a young boy and a man of perhaps +forty, drinking and playing cards; they were swearing horribly and +using the vilest language. + +At length, while the older man shuffled and dealt the cards, the boy +leaned back in his chair and half unconsciously began to hum, finally +singing under his breath Phoebe Cary's hymn, _One Sweetly Solemn +Thought_. + +"Where did you learn that hymn?" cried the older gambler abruptly. + +"At Sunday School at home," replied the boy, surprised. + +The older man threw the cards on the floor. "Come, Harry," he said, +"let's get out of this place. I am ashamed that I ever brought you +here, and I shall do my best to keep you from entering such a place +again." + +Together the two passed from the gambling house, and the man who +watched them learned later that they were both true to their resolution +to live a different life. + + + + +NEARER HOME + +_By_ PHOEBE CARY + + + One sweetly solemn thought + Comes to me o'er and o'er; + I am nearer home to-day + Than I ever have been before; + + Nearer my Father's house, + Where the many mansions be; + Nearer the great white throne, + Nearer the crystal sea; + + Nearer the bound of life, + Where we lay our burdens down; + Nearer leaving the cross, + Nearer gaining the crown! + + But lying darkly between, + Winding down through the night, + Is the silent, unknown stream, + That leads at last to the light. + + Closer and closer my steps + Come to the dread abysm: + Closer Death to my lips + Presses the awful chrism. + + Oh, if my mortal feet + Have almost gained the brink; + If it be I am nearer home + Even to-day than I think, + + Father, perfect my trust; + Let my spirit feel in death + That her feet are firmly set + On the rock of a living faith! + + + + +PICTURES OF MEMORY + +_By_ ALICE CARY + + + Among the beautiful pictures + That hang on Memory's wall + Is one of a dim old forest, + That seemeth best of all; + + Not for its gnarled oaks olden, + Dark with the mistletoe; + Nor for the violets golden + That sprinkle the vale below; + + Not for the milk-white lilies + That lean from the fragrant ledge, + Coquetting all day with the sunbeams, + And stealing their golden edge; + +[Illustration: IN THAT DIM OLD FOREST] + + Nor for the vines on the upland, + Where the bright red berries rest, + Nor the pinks, nor the pale sweet cowslip, + It seemeth to me the best. + + I once had a little brother, + With eyes that were dark and deep; + In the lap of that old dim forest + He lieth in peace asleep: + + Light as the down of the thistle, + Free as the winds that blow, + We roved there the beautiful summers, + The summers of long ago; + + But his feet on the hills grew weary, + And, one of the autumn eves, + I made for my little brother + A bed of the yellow leaves. + + Sweetly his pale arms folded + My neck in a meek embrace, + As the light of immortal beauty + Silently covered his face; + + And when the arrows of sunset + Lodged in the tree-tops bright, + He fell, in his saint-like beauty, + Asleep by the gates of light. + + Therefore, of all the pictures + That hang on Memory's wall, + The one of the dim old forest + Seemeth the best of all. + + + + +THE ESCAPE FROM PRISON +[Footnote: This selection is taken from _Cast Up By the Sea_. Paul +Grey, smuggler, and owner of a trim little smuggling boat, the _Polly_, +has come to the French coast to meet his French confederate, Captain +Dupuis. He expects merely to exchange cargoes, as he has done in the +past, and to run back, avoiding revenue cruisers; but Captain Dupuis, +who owes Captain Grey money which he has no desire to pay, and whose +fingers itch for the prize money to be gained by capturing a smuggler, +sends out in his boat a pilot who guides the _Polly_ into a harbor where +a French war vessel waits for her. Dick Stone, Grey's right-hand man, +advises fighting, but Captain Grey sees the uselessness of this and +allows himself and his men to be made prisoners. The selection begins at +this point.] + +_By_ SIR SAMUEL W. BAKER +[Footnote: Sir Samuel W. Baker (1821-1893) was an English traveler and +explorer. Besides _Cast Up by the Sea_, Baker wrote _The Rifle and the +Hound in Ceylon_; _The Albert Nyansa_; _Wild Beasts and their Ways_, and +other books.] + + +In an hour after the arrival of the "Polly" in the deceitful port, Paul +and his entire crew were marched through the streets of a French +village, and were drawn up opposite the prison entrance. + +Upon their arrival at the gate they were met by the governor and the +principal jailer, who allotted them to various cells in separate +parties. Paul, as their captain, was placed in a superior apartment, +together with Dick Stone, whom he had requested might be permitted to +accompany him. + +As the door of the prison had closed upon their admittance to the +court-yard, Paul had noticed a remarkably pretty girl about eighteen +who had fixed her eyes upon him with extreme earnestness. As he was now +led with Dick Stone to the room that they were to occupy he observed +that she accompanied the jailer, and appeared to observe him with great +interest. Taking from his pocket a guinea that was pierced with a hole, +he slipped it into her hand; at the same time laughingly he told her in +a few words of broken French to suspend it as a charm around her neck +to preserve her from everything English. + +Instead of receiving it with pleasure, as he had expected, she simply +looked at it with curiosity for an instant, and then, keeping it in her +hand, she asked in her native tongue with intense feeling, "Have you +seen Victor? My dear brother Victor, a prisoner in England?" + +"Silly girl," said the jailer, her father, "England is a large place, +and there are too many French prisoners to make it likely that Victor +should be known"; at the same time the feelings of the father yielded +to a vague hope as he looked inquiringly at Paul. + +"There are many fine fellows," answered Paul, "who have had the +misfortune to become prisoners of war, but they are all cared for, and +receive every attention in England. When was your brother taken?" he +asked, as he turned to the handsome dark-eyed girl who had just +questioned him. + +[Illustration: HE SLIPPED A GUINEA INTO HER HAND] + +"A year ago next Christmas," she replied; "and we have only once heard +from him; he was then at a place called Falmouth, but we do not know +where that is." + +"Falmouth!" said Paul; "why, I know the place well; with a fair wind +the 'Polly' would make it in a few hours from the spot where I live. +Your brother then is imprisoned only half a day's sail from my house!" + +"Oh! what good fortune, _mon Dieu,_" exclaimed the excited girl, as she +clasped her hands in delight, as though the hour of her brother's +deliverance was at hand. "How can we reach him? surely you can help us?" + +"Alas! I am also a prisoner," replied Paul. "At this moment my wife is +sorrowing alone in our cottage on the cliff, and she is looking vainly +upon the sea expecting my return. How can I help you? Believe me, if it +were possible, I would." At the recollection of Polly's situation Paul +hastily brushed a tear from his eye with the back of his rough hand, +which instantly awoke the sympathy of the sensitive girl before him. + +"Ha! you are married," she exclaimed. "Is she young, and perhaps +beautiful?" + +"Young enough for me, and handsomer than most women," replied Paul. + +At this moment Dick Stone had lighted his pipe, and as he gave two or +three tremendous puffs he screwed his face into a profoundly serio- +comic expression and winked his right eye mysteriously at Paul. + +"I know the young man," said Dick, who now joined in the conversation, +and addressed the jailer whom he had been scrutinizing closely; "I saw +him once at the prison in Falmouth. Rather tall?" said Dick, as he +surveyed the six-foot form of the jailer. + +"Yes," said the jailer, eagerly, "as tall as I am." + +"Black hair?" continued the impassive Dick, as he cast his eyes upon +the raven locks of both father and daughter. + +"Yes, as dark as mine," exclaimed the now excited jailer. + +"Roman nose?" said Dick, as he looked at the decided form of the +parent's feature that was shared by the handsome girl. + +"Precisely so, well arched," replied the father. + +"Had not lost an arm?" said Dick. + +"No, he had both his arms," said the jailer. + +"And his name," said Dick, "was Victor?" + +"Victor Dioré!" exclaimed the jailer's daughter. + +"Precisely so--that's the man," replied the stoical Dick Stone; "that's +the man. I know'd him soon after he was captured; and I believe he's +now in Falmouth Jail. I'd almost forgotten his name, for you Mounseers +are so badly christened that I can't remember how you're called." + +The jailer and his daughter were much affected at this sudden +intelligence; there could be no doubt that their new prisoner had seen +their lost relative, who appeared to be imprisoned not far from Paul's +residence, and their hearts at once warmed toward both the captives. + +They were led into a large but rather dark room, scantily furnished, +with two trestle-beds, a table, and a couple of benches. + +"We must talk of this again," said Paul to the jailer's daughter; +"perhaps an exchange of prisoners may be arranged at some future time +that may serve us all." + +"Yes," added Dick Stone, "I think we can manage it if we're all true +friends; and may I ask your name, my dear? for you're the prettiest +Mounseer that I've ever set eyes on." + +"Léontine," replied the girl. + +"Well, Leonteen," continued Dick, "if you'll come and have a chat +sometimes up in this cold-looking room I dare say we'll be able to hit +off some plan that'll make us all agreeable. I've got a secret to tell +you yet, but I don't want to let it out before the old 'un," said Dick, +mysteriously, as he winked his eye at her in masonic style; then, +putting his lips very close to her pretty ear, he whispered, "I can +tell you how to get your brother out of prison; but you must keep it +close." + +The door had hardly closed upon the jailer and his daughter, who had +promised to return with breakfast, when Paul turned quickly toward Dick +Stone and exclaimed, "What do you mean, Dick, by such a romance as you +have just composed? Surety all is false; you never met the French +prisoner at Falmouth?" + +"Well," replied Dick, "may be I didn't; but perhaps I did. Who knows?-- +You see, captain, all's fair in love or war, and it struck me that it's +as well to make friends as enemies; now you see we've made friends all +at once by a little romance. You see the Mounseers are very purlite +people, and so it's better to be purlite when you're in France. You see +the pretty little French girl says her brother's in jail in Falmouth; +well, I've seen a lot of French prisoners in Falmouth with black hair, +and two arms apiece, and a Roman nose; so very likely I've seen her +brother. Well, you see, if we can make friends with the jailer, we may +p'r'aps get the key of the jail! At all events, it ain't a bad +beginning to make friends with the jailer's daughter before we've had +our first breakfast in the French prison." + +As Dick Stone finished speaking he looked out of the narrow grated +window that in the thick stone wall appeared as though it had been +intended for musketry; from this aperture he had a beautiful view of +the bay and the French corvette, near to which the unfortunate "Polly" +was now lying at anchor with the French colors flying at the mizzen. + +"Well, that's a bad lookout, I must say," said Dick. "Look here, +captain, there's the 'Polly' looking as trim and as saucy, bless her +heart! as though we were all on board; and there's the ugly French flag +flying, and she don't seem to care more about it than a woman with new +ribbons in her bonnet." + +Paul looked at his beautiful lugger with bitter feelings. He had sailed +in her for many years, and she had become like a member of his family. +Although fifteen years old, she had been built of such well-seasoned +timber, and had been kept in such excellent repair, that she was better +than most vessels of half her age, and he sighed as he now saw her at +anchor with the French flag fluttering at her masthead. For a long time +he gazed intently upon her without speaking a word; at length he turned +sharply 'round, and in a quick, determined voice, he said, "Dick, I'll +never live to see the 'Polly' disgraced. If you'll stick by me, Dick, +we'll retake her yet, or die!" + +For some moments Dick Stone stared Paul carelessly in the face without +a reply; he then tapped the bowl of his empty pipe upon the prison +wall, and carefully refilling it with tobacco, he once more, lighted +it, and puffed for about a minute in perfect silence; he then spoke, +after emitting a dense volume of smoke. + +"If I'll stick to you, captain? Well, p'r'aps I never have, and p'r'aps +Dick Stone's a coward? Well, you see, of course I'll stick to yer; but +there's other things to be thought of. What's your plan, captain? It's +of no use doing anything without thinking well first. Now if you'll +tell me what you mean I'll have a little smoke, just half a pipe, and +I'll tell you my opinion." + +"My plans are not absolutely defined," said Paul, "but I think that by +making friends with the jailer's daughter we may induce her to risk +much in the endeavor to rescue her brother. We might prevail upon her +to assist in our escape--she might even accompany us to England. Could +we only free ourselves from these prison walls on a dark night, when +the wind blows strong from the south, why should we not surprise the +French crew, and carry off the 'Polly'? Once at sea, there is nothing +that could touch her!" Paul's eyes glistened as he spoke, and the +muscles stood out on his brawny arm as he clinched his fist, and added, +"If I could only once lay hold of Dupuis's throat, and save the +'Polly,' I ask no greater fortune!" + +Puff, puff, puff, came in rapid succession from Dick's pipe at these +words; at last, the long exhaustive suck arrived in its turn, and the +usual cloud of smoke enveloped his head, which always exhilarated his +brain. + +"Well, captain, d'ye see," replied Dick, "I'll stick to you in +anything, and there's no doubt that there's a chance of success if the +pretty little Mounseer will only help us. But, you see, from what I +know of womankind, they're very fond and very purlite for their +brothers, but they won't run much risk for 'em. Now if they're in love +they're as good as bulldogs; and so I think it's a pity as how you told +her that you'd got a wife a-looking out for you at home! If you'd have +told her that you were a single man, and p'r'aps given her a kiss when +you gave her the lucky guinea, we might have got a little love to help +us, and then we'd have had a better chance, as she'd have gone off with +us all of a heap." + +"Dick, you have no conscience," replied Paul; "you surely would not +deceive the girl in such a heartless manner? No!" continued Paul, "I +have told her the truth, and if she can help us I'll do my best to save +her brother; but, on the other hand, why should not you, Dick, make +yourself agreeable to her? You're not a bad-looking fellow, why should +you not do the love-making?" + +Dick made no reply, but thoughtfully puffed at-his pipe; then laying +down his smoking counselor upon the window-sill he thrust his right +hand into a deep breeches pocket, and extracted a black-horn pocket +comb, with which he began at once, most carefully to arrange his hair. + +Despite the loss of the "Polly" and the misery of his situation Paul +burst out laughing as he witnessed Dick's cool determination to prepare +for love-making. + +"I don't know how these Mounseers begin," said the methodical Dick; +"they're a very purlite people, and so they mayn't like our customs. In +England we take 'em round the waist with both arms, and give 'em a +kiss; but p'r'aps it's better not to begin all at once. I'll just ask +her to sit on my knee at first, so as not to frighten her." + +"Better not, Dick," said Paul, laughing; "I'm afraid she wouldn't +understand your modesty. Only make yourself agreeable, but don't touch +her, and let time do the rest." + +They were interrupted in their conversation by the turning of the +creaking door-lock, and the jailer and his daughter entered with a loaf +of black bread and two jars of water and of milk, which they placed +upon the table. Léontine had already strung the guinea upon a cord, +which was now suspended from her neck. + +"Ha! that looks very well!" said Paul; "few French girls wear the +English king's image round their necks." + +"I know an Englishman who wears a French girl's picture in his heart," +said Dick, who, with a sly wink at Paul as a preface, thus made his +first bold advance. "A what?" inquired Léontine. + +"A poor devil," replied Dick, "who doesn't care how long he's shut up +in a French prison with such a pretty little Mounseer for a jailer." + +"Ha! ha! you English know how to pay compliments," answered Léontine, +who knew just sufficient English to understand Dick's attempt at +French. + +"Yes, we're considered a very purlite people," replied Dick, "and we +have a purlite custom when we go to prison of shaking hands with the +jailer and kissing the hand of his pretty daughter." As Dick said these +words he first grasped the hand of the jailer, and then raised to his +lips, redolent of tobacco, the hand of Léontine; at the same time he +whispered, "Don't forget that I have a secret." + +Far from being disconcerted at Dick's politeness, Léontine naively +remarked, "You can't tell a secret before three persons; but we shall +have plenty of opportunities, for you may pay us a longer visit than +may be agreeable." + +Dick in reply to this remark suddenly assumed one of his most +mysterious expressions, and winking one eye at Léontine, he placed his +forefinger upon his lips as though to enjoin silence, and whispered in +her ear, "Make an opportunity: the secret's about your brother." + +More than two months had passed wearily in the French prison, during +which both Paul and Dick Stone had been buoyed up in inaction by the +hope of carrying into execution a plan for their escape. The only view +from the prison windows was the sea, and the street and beach in the +foreground. The "Polly" still lay at anchor in the same spot, as some +difficulty had arisen between Captain Dupuis and the captain of the +corvette that had to be settled in the law courts. + +In the meantime both Paul and Dick Stone had not only become great +friends of the jailer, Jean Dioré, and his daughter, but Dick had +quickly found an opportunity to disclose his secret, which succeeded in +winning the heart of the enterprising Léontine. Dick had made a +declaration of love, and to prove his sincerity he proposed that he +should conduct her direct to her brother in the English prison, whose +release should be effected by an exchange; and he had persuaded her +that, if she should aid in the escape of Paul and the entire crew of +the "Polly," there would be no difficulty in obtaining her brother's +release when the facts should become known to the English authorities. +Paul had added his persuasions to those of Dick Stone; he had excited +the sister's warmest feelings by painting the joys he would feel in +rescuing her brother from a miserable existence, and he had gained her +sympathy by a description of the misery and suspense that his own wife +must be suffering in her ignorance of all that had befallen him. +Léontine was won. She was brave as a lion, and, her determination once +formed, she was prepared to act without flinching. + +Many times Dick Stone had lighted his pipe, and puffed and considered +as he took counsel with Paul on the plan that the latter had proposed. +All was agreed upon. + +Paul had thus arranged the attempt at escape. All was to be in +readiness for the first gale that should blow from either west or +south. Léontine had provided him with a couple of large files and a +small crowbar about two feet long, which she had purchased in the +village with money supplied by Paul; these she had introduced to his +room by secreting them beneath her clothes. + +At various times she had purchased large supplies of string twine in +skeins, which to avoid suspicion she had described as required for +making nets; these she had also introduced daily, until sufficient had +been collected for the manufacture of ropes, at which both Paul and +Dick Stone worked incessantly during the night, and which they +concealed in the daytime within their mattresses, by cutting a hole +beneath. Whenever the time should arrive it had been arranged that +Léontine was to procure the keys of the cells in which the crew of the +"Polly" were confined, and she was to convey the prisoners at night +into the apartment occupied by Paul and Dick, whence they were to +descend from the window by a rope into the fosse that surrounded the +prison; fortunately, this ditch was dry, and Léontine was to fix a +stake into the ground about the fosse, from which she was to suspend a +knotted rope after dark, to enable the prisoners to ascend upon the +opposite side. + +The great difficulty would be in avoiding the sentry, who was always on +guard within fifty paces of the spot where they would be forced to +descend, and whence they must afterward ascend from the ditch. The +affair was to be left entirely in the hands of Léontine, who assured +Paul and Dick that she would manage the sentry if they would be ready +at the right moment to assist her. When freed from the prison, they +were to make a rush to the beach, seize the first boat, of which many +were always at hand, and board and capture the "Polly"; once on board +the trusty lugger, in a westerly or southerly gale, and Paul knew that +nothing could overtake her. + +Such was the plan agreed upon, and everything had been carefully +prepared and in readiness for some days, but the favorable weather had +not yet arrived. Daily and hourly Paul looked from the grated windows +upon his beloved "Polly," which lay still at anchor idle in the bay, +about fifty yards from the French corvette. + +At length, as early one morning he as usual looked out from his prison, +he saw a boat pulling from the shore, followed quickly by several +others conveying cargo, and steering for the "Polly;" the bustle upon +the deck, and the refitting of ropes and rigging, plainly discernible +from the prison window, left no doubt upon Paul's mind that the "Polly" +was about to leave the harbor, and perhaps be lost to him forever. + +At this painful sight Dick lighted his pipe, and smoked with violence +until the tobacco was half consumed, when suddenly, in a fit of +excitement that was quite unusual, he hastily put his adviser in his +pocket, and seizing a file from beneath his mattress he immediately +commenced work upon the bottom of an iron bar that protected the narrow +window. + +"That's right, Dick," said Paul; "now or never! The clouds are hurrying +up from the sou'-west, and I think it's coming on to blow; as old +Mother Lee says, 'Luck comes from the sou-west'; so bear a hand, and +give me the file when you get tired." + +As Paul had observed, the scud was flying rapidly across the sky from +the right quarter, and both men worked hard alternately, and in an hour +they had divided the thick iron bar close to the base. + +"Now for the top," said Dick. "We'll soon cut it through, although it's +harder work, as we can't put our weight to the file." + +"Never mind the file," said Paul, who now grasped the severed bar in +his iron hands; "with such a purchase I could wrench the bar asunder. +Something shall give way," he said, as with the force of Samson he +exerted every muscle, and wrenched the bar from its loosened base. The +stone in which it was fixed first crumbled at the joint, and then +suddenly cracked, and Paul fell sprawling on his back with the bar in +his hands, while a heavy fragment of stone fell upon the floor. + +"Take care, captain," said Dick; "gently with the stones. We shall +alarm the jailer if we make so much noise. Why, you've settled the job +in one pull!" + +"Here, Dick," continued Paul, as he sprung from the floor, "take the +bar while I move a stone from the side with the crow. We won't take it +right out, lest the jailer should notice it if he comes with the +breakfast; but we'll loosen it so that we can remove it quickly when +necessary, as the window is too narrow for our shoulders." + +[Illustration: HE WRENCHED THE BAR ASUNDER] + +Paul then inserted the thin edge of the crowbar, and by gently working +it backward and forward, he removed the stones and enlarged the +aperture sufficiently to admit the passage of a man; he then replaced +the stones, together with the bar, and so arranged the window that no +one would have observed any disturbance unless by a close inspection. +Hardly had they completed their work when footsteps were heard without, +succeeded by the turning of the key in the creaking lock of their door. +In an instant Dick, who had lighted his pipe, leaned upon the window- +sill and looked steadily out of the window; at the same time he puffed +such dense clouds of smoke as would have effectually screened any. +damage that had been done by the work of the crowbar. + +The door opened, and fortunately Léontine appeared instead of her +father. She brought the breakfast. + +"Quick!" she exclaimed, "there is no time to lose. The wind has +changed, and people say we shall have a gale from the sou'-west. The +'Polly' is to sail to-morrow. Captain Dupuis has loaded her, and he +will himself depart in the morning should the wind be fair. You must +all get ready for the work," continued the determined girl, as her +large eyes flashed with energy. + +"We have not been idle, my pretty Léontine," said Paul, as he exhibited +their morning's work, "but we now depend upon you. It will be quite +dark at eight o'clock. You must have the rope ready secured to this +small crowbar, driven into the earth on the other side of the fosse; +the bar is sharp and heavy; it will make no noise if you can manage to +strike it into the ground in exactly the same spot three or four times, +and simply hang this loop upon it, pressed close down to the base." At +the same time he gave her the bar, and a rope coiled, about twenty feet +in length. Paul continued. "You must also be punctual in bringing the +other prisoners here at half-past eight, and tell them to take their +shoes off and to tie them round their waists. But how about the +sentry?" asked Paul. + +"Don't be afraid," said Léontine; "I have already arranged everything +this morning. Fortune has favored us; François is to be on guard to- +night; the guard is relieved at eight o'clock, at which time he will +come on duty, therefore we have nothing to fear for some hours. I will +manage François; leave him to me. He is an old lover of mine, and I +have appointed to meet him to-night." + +At this confession, thus boldly made, Dick Stone puffed violently at +his pipe, and was almost concealed by his own smoke, when Léontine +continued: + +"He is a sad fellow, and has given me much trouble, but I shall pay him +out to-night. Look here, Dick," she continued, "if you are worth having +you'll help me quickly to-night, for I shall depend upon you. I have +agreed to meet François this evening at half-past eight, as I have +pretended to accept his love. To avoid detection (as he will be on +guard), I am to be disguised as a soldier, and he will send me the +clothes and arms to-day. I shall keep my appointment, and engage him in +conversation so closely that he will not hear you; but at the last +moment you must be ready to rush upon him and secure him, while I +endeavor to prevent him from giving an alarm. At the same time," +continued Léontine, "you must promise not to hurt him, for François is +a good fellow, and is very fond of me." + +"Only let me get hold of him," cried Dick Stone. + +"Will you?" replied Léontine; "then the enterprise ceases at the very +beginning. You shall not escape unless you swear that no harm shall +befall François." + +"Do not be afraid," said Paul; but he continued: "It may be a difficult +affair if he is a powerful man--what size is he?" + +"Oh," replied Léontine, laughing, "a little fellow, about as big as I +am. You could soon manage poor Francois; he would be a mere child in +the grasp of such a man as yourself." + +"All right," said Paul; "then there's no fear of murder; depend upon +me, Léontine, no harm shall touch him." + +"Mind you seize the right man," said the gay Léontine, "when I give the +signal, as I shall be in a soldier's uniform and you may mistake me for +Francois. The signal will be 'A friend;' the instant that I give the +word, seize and disarm him before he can fire his musket. You will then +have two muskets, mine and that of Francois, with which you must take +your chance in boarding the 'Polly.'" + +"That will do," said Paul; "let me only set foot on the 'Polly's' deck, +and I'll soon settle accounts with Monsieur Dupuis. But now," added +Paul, "we are agreed upon all points, and we depend upon you, Léontine; +do not forget to visit the beach, and see that the oars and a boat- +hook, with a sharp ax to cut the cable, are placed in readiness within +a large boat, to which you must guide us when we leave the prison." + +"Never fear," said Léontine; "I shall not fail in my part, and I shall +give the signal as the clock chimes half-past eight; you must be ready +on the instant. Here is a letter," continued the girl, as the tears +started to her eyes, "that I have written for my father; you must leave +it on the table when you escape, and it will explain all; he will then, +perhaps, forgive me when he knows that I risk my life for Victor." +Saying which, she left the room and locked the door behind her. + +Léontine now hurried her preparations, while the day passed wearily +away to those who were awaiting the hour of their deliverance. + +Paul and Dick Stone counted the hours as the neighboring church clock +struck heavily on the bell. + +"We shall run to the cove in twelve hours," said Paul, "if this breeze +lasts; it's blowing a gale out at sea, and the 'Polly' 'll fly like a +witch on a broomstick." + +"We've got to take her first," replied the wary Dick. "There's many a +slip 'twixt the cup and the lip!" + +"We are short of weapons, no doubt," said Paul; "but we must take off +the sword-bayonets from the muskets, and give them to two of the men. I +will be first on board, and knock down Dupuis. Let the men rush to the +main-mast and secure the arms from the rack the moment that they reach +the deck, while you, Dick, seize the helm. I will tell off four men to +loose the sails and to cut the cable directly that we get on board. +This will leave us ten men to do the fighting. If all goes well we +shall find the better part of the French crew down below, and, once in +possession of the deck, they will be at our mercy. This gale of wind +will start the 'Polly' like a wild duck the instant that the cable is +cut, and we shall be round the corner of the island before the corvette +can bring her guns to bear upon us. Then, with a dark night and a heavy +gale, the 'Polly' can take care of herself." + +The day at length passed away, and the sun set. The wind roared through +the narrow streets of the town, and whistled loudly around the pointed +towers of the old prison. "There could not be a better night," said +Paul; "the wind roars like a lion, and nothing will be heard by the +sentry." + +As he was speaking the clock struck eight. As the last tone of the bell +died away the lock of the door creaked as the key turned from the +outside; and presently, without a sound of footsteps, thirteen +strapping fellows, who had been liberated by Léontine, softly entered +the room, carrying their shoes strapped to their belts, as had been +directed by Paul. + +No time was lost in useless greeting; but the severed bar of the window +was at once made use of as a lever to remove the heavy stones, and in +less than ten minutes an aperture was made sufficiently large for an +exit. + +Paul now fastened the rope that had been concealed in his mattress to +the center of the iron bar; then, lowering the other end from the +window until it reached the fosse, he fixed the bar across the base, so +that it was secured on either side by the masonry. + +All was now ready, and, lest they should be disturbed, Dick Stone, +having received the key from Léontine, locked the door on the inside. + +Paul went first. It was with some difficulty that he squeezed his broad +shoulders through the narrow opening; but once without the wall he +nimbly lowered himself to the bottom, a depth of about sixty feet. + +In a much shorter time than might be supposed the active sailors had +succeeded in reaching the bottom of the fosse, without having made the +slightest noise. The wind blew louder than before; there was no moon, +and merely a faint light was given at intervals by the stars that every +now and then peeped from between the driving clouds. + +Carefully leading the way, Paul crossed the broad fosse, and felt with +his hand the opposite wall, against which he expected to find the rope +that was to have been arranged by Léontine. He was followed noiselessly +by the crew for about twenty yards, when he suddenly halted as he +caught the dangling rope. + +With extreme care Paul now climbed, hand over hand, to the top, having +previously whispered to Dick Stone to hold the end of the rope, and to +ascend when he should give a jerk as a signal of safety. + +Arrived at the top, on the soft green turf at the edge of the moat, +Paul lay flat upon the ground, and listened. He could see nothing, +therefore he knew that he could not be seen; but he fancied that he +could hear a suppressed voice in the direction of the sentry. He gave a +slight jerk to the rope, and presently Dick Stone arrived, and crept to +Paul's side, quickly followed by all the others. They all remained flat +upon the grass, which, being about a foot in height, effectually +concealed them in the darkness of the night. Paul now crept forward +upon his hands and knees, followed in the same manner by Dick Stone; +the other men had received orders to jump up and join them immediately +upon hearing the signal, "A friend." + +In a few minutes Paul was within a dozen yards of the sentry; and as he +and Dick then lay flat upon the earth they could faintly distinguish +two figures standing close together, and in intervals between the gusts +they could hear voices. + +We will return to Léontine. + +She had not failed in any of her arrangements. The unsuspecting +François had fallen into her snare, and, delighted with the +assignation, he had run great risk in the hope of securing the love of +the charming Léontine. He had borrowed for her a comrade's uniform and +arms; and thus accoutred as a soldier, she had met him at the appointed +hour. They were now standing together by the edge of the moat, and +Léontine had listened to his warm declarations of affection. François +was enraptured; for more than a year he had vainly sought to win her +love. As the belle of the village, Léontine had many admirers; a +certain lieutenant was reported to be a favored suitor; thus what +chance was there for a private such as François? True or false, the +jealous heart of François had believed these reports, and he had +yielded to despair. Judge of his transport when, within the last few +hours, he had been led to hope; and now, when he had nearly given her +up as lost, he almost held her in his arms. Alas! for military +discipline when beauty leads the attack! François thought of nothing +but his love. There was a railing by the edge of the moat, against +which Léontine had rested her musket; the unwary sentry did the same; +and the two weapons leaned peacefully side by side, as the soldier, +intoxicated by his love, suddenly caught her round the waist with both +arms and pressed his lips to her cheek. At this moment the dull clang +of the prison clock struck the half hour. Struggling in his embrace, +Léontine exclaimed: "Oh, if I could call 'a friend!'" + +At the same instant with both her hands she slipped into his mouth a +wooden instrument called a gag, that was used to silence uproarious +prisoners. The signal, "A friend," had been given in a loud voice, as +though in reply to the usual challenge, and before the unlucky François +could relieve himself from the gag he was caught from behind in the +tremendous grasp of Paul's arms, while Dick Stone by mistake rushed +upon Léontine; a vigorous smack on the face from her delicate hand +immediately undeceived him. + +"Take that musket," whispered Léontine, quickly, "and come along." + +At the same time she seized the remaining musket, while Paul pinioned +the arms of their prisoner with his handkerchief, and threatened him +with instant death should he resist. + +No time was lost. Paul threw the sentry over his shoulder as though he +had been a lamb, and the whole party hurried after Léontine, who had +led the way to the beach. + +This affair had been managed so dexterously and quietly that no sound +had been heard except the reply, "A friend," that was the preconcerted +signal of attack; but upon arrival at the beach the rattling of the +shingle as the large party hurried toward the boat threatened to +attract a dangerous attention. + +A large number of boats were drawn up upon the beach, but Léontine, +without a moment's hesitation, led Paul and his party to one that had +the oars already arranged; and the powerful crew, seizing it by the bow +and the stern, ran it along the steep incline and launched it through +the waves. + +Not a word had been spoken, but there was a sound of many feet as the +crew jumped into the boat that could not be mistaken. Paul laid his +struggling burden upon the beach, and Léontine, before she leaped into +the boat, whispered in the captive's ear: + +"François, if you give the alarm I'll never love you again." With this +coquettish adieu she followed Paul and Dick Stone, who were the last of +the party. + +"Steer straight for the 'Polly,' and give way, my lads! for there's no +time to lose," said Paul, who had taken his position in the bow of the +boat with Dick Stone, both of whom were armed with muskets, while two +men with sword-bayonets were ready to follow them. + +"Make a rush on board," said Paul, "and knock down everybody without +asking questions; then seize the arms from the rack and chest." + +The water was deep in the rocky bay; thus the "Polly" was moored to a +buoy little more than two hundred yards from shore; a light was visible +on board, and the lanterns of the corvette were also burning about +fifty paces distant, where she lay moored by stem and stern. + +They now pulled swiftly but silently toward the lugger. Paul's heart +bounded with hope, while Dick Stone, as cool as ice, but determined +upon the event, waited for the command. They neared the vessel. "What +boat's that?" was the sudden challenge from the lugger's deck, as their +boat came within a couple of oars' length. "A friend!" shouted Léontine +in French, and almost in the same instant a man in the bow of the boat +caught hold of the mizzen shrouds of the lugger with his boat-hook, and +held on. + +Paul seized a rope, and in one bound he was upon the lugger's deck, +while Dick Stone followed like his shadow. To knock down the first man +with a double-handed thrust with the barrel of his musket was the work +of a moment, at the same instant Dick struck and felled a Frenchman who +had rushed to the arm-chest. A shot was now fired by one of the French +crew, and several men made a dash at the arm-rack, but Paul was there +before them, and with the butt end of his musket he struck down the +leader of the party. + +At this moment a loud shrill cry of alarm was heard from the shore. + +"_Ha, le sacre François_!" exclaimed Léontine, who had in the meantime +attached the deserted boat to the lugger's stern. "_Ha, le misérable_!" +she cried; "this is a return for my love!" + +Two or three shots were now fired by the French crew, but without other +results than to alarm the ship-of-war; the drum beat to quarters, +lights were seen at her ports; a tremendous flash was accompanied by +the report of a cannon as she fired an alarm-gun; this was quickly +answered by a shot from a battery above the town. + +The bells of the church and the prison rang wildly as shot after shot +was fired from the battery, and the alarm spread like wild-fire +throughout the port. + +In the meantime, while the fight had been hot upon the "Polly's" decks, +Captain Dupuis, who had been asleep when the vessel was first boarded, +now rushed up from the cabin, and meeting Paul he fired a pistol within +a few feet of his chest; fortunately, at that moment Paul was in the +act of raising his musket, and the ball lodged within the tough walnut +stock; the next instant the weapon fell with a crash upon Dupuis's +skull, who reeled backward, and stumbling against the low bulwarks, he +fell overboard and sunk. + +Dick Stone, with his musket in one hand that he had not yet discharged, +was now standing at the helm. The English crew had gained the arms from +the rack, and several shots were fired as they drove the French toward +the bows of the lugger, following them up with the bayonet. Many of the +French jumped overboard, calling loudly to the man-of-war for +assistance, and those who were down below were already helpless, as the +companion ladder was guarded by two armed men. The surprise was +complete; Léontine had hauled her boat alongside, and had climbed on +board; the cable was cut, and the sails were let loose; but the danger +had increased. The French crew who had jumped overboard called to the +corvette to fire and sink the lugger. This they had hitherto been +afraid to do, as their own countrymen were on board. A blue light was +now burned upon the decks of the corvette, and distinctly illumined the +scene just as the sails of the "Polly" filled, as her head turned from +the severed cable, and she met the full force of the gale from shore. +In an instant she leaned over, and as the water rippled from her bows +and the boom was slacked off she started like a wild duck frightened +from its nest. + +"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" rang three hearty British cheers as the +clipper lugger glided rapidly through the dark water and passed the +terrible broadside of the corvette within fifty or sixty yards. But +hardly had the "Polly" cleared the deadly row of guns, when, a flash! +and the shock seemed to sweep her deck as the dense smoke rolled across +her in the midst of the roar of a twenty-four-pounder fired from the +last gun of the tier. + +A terrible crash almost immediately followed the shock, and the painter +or rope that attaches the boat to the stern of the lugger suddenly +dangled loosely in the water, as the shot had dashed the boat to atoms; +fortunately the "Polly" had just passed the fatal line of fire. Another +wild "hurrah!" replied to the unsuccessful gun, as the lugger, released +from the boat's weight, seemed to fly still quicker through the water. + +"Take the helm for a moment," said Dick to a sailor by his side, and +running amidships he called upon Paul, "Give a hand, captain, and we'll +get the Long Tom round." + +In an instant Paul put his powerful shoulder to the long six-pounder +that worked on a pivot, and together, with joint exertions, they +trained the gun upon the stern windows of the corvette. Dick Stone had +just beforehand lighted his pipe when standing at the helm, and as the +long gun bore upon its object he suddenly pushed Paul upon one side, +and emptied his fiery bowl upon the touch-hole. Bang! went the gun, as +the six-pound shot crashed through the cabin windows of the corvette, +and through the various bulk-heads, raking her from stem to stern. + +"Hurrah!" again shouted the crew, who like true British sailors were +ready for any fight without reckoning the odds when the cannon once +began to speak, while Paul and several men sponged and reloaded the +long gun, as the corvette had lowered several boats to give chase. + +"Hurrah for the saucy 'Polly!'" shouted Paul, as he and Dick now +trained the gun upon the leading boat; but at that moment they turned +the sharp headland of the rocky island, and both the corvette and her +boats were obscured from their view. + +It was blowing hard, but the water in the bay was perfectly smooth, as +the wind was directly off the shore, and the "Polly" flew like a race- +horse toward the open sea. In a few minutes she passed the last +headland, and rushed at foaming speed over the long swell of the +Atlantic. With the gale fairly on her quarter, there was nothing that +could touch the "Polly." There was no fear of a chase, although the +heavy booming of the alarm-guns could still be heard in the distance. + +Three Frenchmen had been killed in the fight, and their bodies, which +now lay on deck, were thrown overboard; two were prisoners down below; +the remainder of the crew had escaped by jumping overboard, with the +exception of the treacherous Captain Dupuis, who had sunk when knocked +down by Paul. + +Dick Stone was now at the helm; his pipe was well alight; and could his +features have been distinguished in the dark they would be seen to wear +an unusually cheerful expression as he said to Paul, "It wouldn't have +been purlite of us to leave the Mounseers without a salute, and without +my pipe we couldn't have fired the gun. It's a wonderful thing is a +pipe! Ain't it, captain?" + +"Nor'-nor'-east is the course, Dick," replied Paul, who was at that +moment thinking of his wife, and the happiness it would be to meet her +on the following day; at the same time he was anxious lest any +misfortune should have occurred during his long absence. + +"Nor'-nor-east it is, captain," replied Dick, with a sailor's +promptitude; "but I can't help larfing when I think of Captain Doopwee, +who has put a cargo on board the 'Polly' all for nothing, and has got +knocked on the head into the bargain. Well, sarve him right, sarve him +right," continued Dick, musingly; "he was a, very purlite varmint, too +purlite to be honest, by a long chalk." After this curt biographical +memoir of the late Captain Dupuis, Dick Stone applied himself to his +pipe and kept the "Polly's" course N.N.E. + +While Paul and Dick Stone were upon deck Léontine was lying upon a cot +within the cabin. The excitement of the day had nearly worn her out, +and despite the uneasy movement of the vessel, which tried her more +severely than any danger, she fell asleep in the uniform of a private +in the French chasseurs, and she dreamed happily that her brother +Victor was released. + + + + +STORIES OF THE CREATION + +THE GREEK AND ROMAN MYTH + + +Almost every ancient or primitive people makes an attempt to explain +how the world and human beings came into existence. They all take it +for granted that things did not simply "happen," but that some being +with intelligence had a hand in the making of things. Accounts as told +by various peoples are here given. + +There were various stories of the creation told by the Greeks and +Romans, but the accounts differed only in detail. Most of the Greeks +believed that there was a time when the earth and the sea and the sky +did not exist. All the elements of which they are made existed, but +were jumbled together in a confused mass, which was called Chaos. Over +this Chaos ruled the deities Erebus or Darkness, and Nox or Night, +although it would seem that there could not have been much need of +rulers. Strangely enough, the children of this gloomy pair were Aether +and Hemera, who stood for Light and Day, and they felt that if they +were to become rulers, they wanted a more cheerful realm than Chaos +seemed to be. With the help of Eros (Love), they created Gaea (The +Earth), Uranus (The Sky), and Pontus (The Sea). Uranus married Gaea, +and before long these two took the power from Aether and Hemera and +reigned in their stead. To this god and goddess were born twelve +children--six sons and six daughters--who were known as Titans. As they +were of gigantic size and were extremely strong, their father feared +that they might treat him as he had treated Aether, and to prevent this +he shut them up in an underground cavern. + +Naturally Gaea was not pleased with this treatment of her children, so +she helped Saturn, the youngest of the Titans, to escape, and gave him +a scythe with which he might revenge himself on his father. + +After defeating Uranus, Saturn released all his brothers and sisters, +and made them swear to be faithful to him as the new ruler. He then +chose as his queen Rhea, a goddess who was both good and beautiful, and +began his reign in happiness. + +When his first child was born, however, Saturn remembered that Uranus +had foretold his overthrow by one of his own children, and to prevent +such a disaster he did a very strange and heartless thing---he +swallowed his new-born son. Five children he got rid of in this manner, +but when the sixth, Jupiter, was born, Rhea resolved to save him. She +therefore wrapped up a stone and gave it to her husband instead of the +child, and he, suspecting nothing, swallowed it. The young god grew up +in concealment, and very rapidly he grew, for when he was but a year +old he was strong enough to make successful war on his father and to +take the supreme power from him. And then, strangest thing of all, he +forced Saturn to disgorge all the children he had swallowed. + +Either because he was generous or because he thought his kingdom was +too great for him, Jupiter divided it with his brothers, Neptune and +Pluto, but he himself remained supreme. + +The gods themselves dwelt not on the earth, but above the top of +Olympus, a mountain peak of Greece; and thus the entire Earth was +uninhabited. However, it was not allowed to remain so, for Jupiter +appointed Prometheus, a Titan, who had helped him in his war against +Saturn, to make an inhabitant for the Earth. Prometheus accordingly +moulded a man out of clay, and taking him before the gods, persuaded +each one to bestow upon him some gift. A woman was made later, and from +these two were descended all the peoples of the earth. + + +THE NORSE MYTH + +As the Norse peoples, in their land which for so large a part of the +year was ice-bound, dreaded the long, hard winter, and looked forward +to the blessings brought by the summer, they imagined that the evil +forces in the world worked through cold and darkness, the good forces +through warmth and light. Thus they feared and hated the "frost +giants," while they loved and reverenced the gods, whom they pictured +as living in a world of brightness and warmth. + +According to the Norse religion, or mythology, the world began in a +contest between heat and cold. At first there was no earth; nothing +existed except the yawning abyss, Ginungagap, which separated the +world, or spacer, of mist and cold and darkness, on the north, from the +world of fire and brightness, on the south. The mist world was called +Niflheim; the fire world, Muspelheim. From a great fountain in the mist +world there sprang twelve rivers, which after flowing far from their +source tumbled their waters into the Ginungagap. Here the water was all +turned to ice, with which in time the huge abyss was filled. Sparks and +warm winds from Muspelheim, coming into contact with this ice, melted +it, so that there hung always over the ice chasm a dense vapor. This, +in turn, gradually took shape, and formed the giant Ymir and the cow +Audhumbla; and for a season these were the only two creatures in all +the expanse of space. Ymir fed upon the cow's milk, and she, in turn, +got what nourishment she could by licking the salt and the hoarfrost +from the ice. + +One day as the cow licked a huge ice block, there appeared the hair of +some being, and as she remained persistently at the same lump, within a +short time she had set free a beautiful, strong god--the god Bori. Bori +was the ancestor of all the gods, as Ymir was the ancestor of all the +giants; and since the gods were as good as the frost giants were evil, +it was plain enough to both that they could not live together. + +The struggle between the races lasted for ages on ages, but finally +Odin, Vili and Ve, the grandsons of Bori, succeeded in putting to death +Ymir, the greatest and worst of the giants. And in killing him they +accomplished much more than they expected; for from his wounds the +blood gushed in such streams that it drowned all the wicked giants +except Bergelmir and his wife, who saved themselves in a boat. Had +they, too, but died, there would have been, to the end of time, no +giants to trouble the gods; but their descendants kept up from +Jotunheim, their home at the end of the world, their plots and warrings +against the gods. + +Odin, who was from the first the wisest and strongest of the gods, +gazed upon the huge corpse of the slain giant, and then called the +other gods about him. + +"We cannot waste," he said, "the body of this giant. Where is the use +of our power and wisdom if we cannot, out of this evil thing, make +something good and beautiful?" + +Eagerly the gods set to work. It was by far the most interesting task +they had ever been called upon to perform, and right well they +performed it. In the exact center of the ice abyss they formed, of +Ymir's flesh, the earth, and about it and through it they caused his +blood to flow, as the sea, the rivers and the lakes. Of his teeth they +made steep cliffs to front the sea, and of his bones they formed +mountains and hills. His curly hair became grass and trees and flowers, +and his eyebrows were set about the new earth as a high fence, to keep +out the revengeful giants. Then, taking up the great skull, the gods +set it over the earth to form the arch of the heavens, while the brains +that it had contained they scattered about as clouds. + +No wonder the gods were pleased with their work! But Odin saw that +there was one thing lacking. + +"Were we ourselves to dwell on this new created earth," he said, "it +would be well; for to a god's eyes all things are clear. But those whom +we shall fashion to inhabit it shall see with other eyes than ours, and +lights will be needed--lights for day, and lights for night." + +This was comparatively easy, after the work that had already been +performed. All the gods set to work catching sparks from Muspelheim, +and there was great rivalry as to which one should collect most. Some +of the sparks were scattered through the sky as stars, but the +brightest ones were put aside and kept for a greater purposes. When +enough had been gathered, the gods made from the whitely glowing ones +the moon; from the fiery red and golden ones, the sun. These lights +they placed in chariots, to which were harnessed swift, tireless +steeds; but it was evident to all that the steeds could not be trusted +to take the chariots across the sky unguided. Feeling that they could +not spare two of their own number for this work, the gods chose Sol +(sun) and Mani (moon), the daughter and son of a giant, who had named +his children after the new lights because of their beauty. The young +drivers were given instructions as to just the hours when they must +begin their journeys across the sky, as to how rapidly they must drive, +and as to the paths they must take; and never did the gods find reason +to be dissatisfied with the work of Sol and Mani. + +Then two more chariots were made. To one was harnessed a black horse, +named Hrimfaxi, whose mane dropped hoarfrost and whose bit scattered +dew; while to the other was fastened the beautiful silver-white steed +Skinfaxi, from whose shining mane beams of light were shed through all +the earth. The giantess Night was entrusted with the first of these +chariots, while the young god Day was made the driver of the other. +Each was told to drive about the earth once each twenty-four hours. + +The gods could make all these beautiful things, but they could not keep +the giants from making ugly and evil things; and so there were two +fierce wolves, set on by the giants, who constantly chased the sun and +moon across the sky, attempting to catch and devour them. Occasionally +one of these wolves would overtake his prey, and would start to swallow +it, thus producing what was known on earth as an eclipse. But always, +in some way or other, they were frightened away before the light of the +heavens was utterly destroyed. When the gods had expressed their +pleasure in all that had so far been done, Odin said, "Where shall we +fix our own dwelling? Beyond the earth, beyond the ocean, live the +giants; but neither on the earth, nor in the earth, nor above the earth +s there any living thing." "You mistake, Father Odin," cried one of +his sons. "If you but look down, you will see that within the earth are +many living things." + +All the gods looked down, and there, sure enough, were innumerable +little creatures crawling in and out of the earth. They had been bred +by the earth, and were little better than maggots; but the gods gave +them a form which somewhat resembled that of the gods themselves, +though smaller, and gave them intelligence and wonderful strength. Some +of the new little creatures were ugly and dark and deformed; these the +gods called gnomes or dwarfs, and to them they gave homes underground, +with power over all that was hidden in the earth. But for the +beautiful, fair creatures whom they called elves and fairies, the gods +made a home somewhat above the earth, where they might live always +among flowers and birds and butterflies. + +"And now," said Odin, "let us build our own home in the heavens, above +that of the fairies. This green earth which we have made we shall +reserve for a race to be, which shall be our especial care." + +Far in the blue heavens, therefore, above the mountain tops, above the +clouds, was built the wonderful city of Asgard, home of the gods. In +the center was the palace Gladsheim, of pure gold, within whose +precious hall there were set golden thrones for all the gods. Odin had, +too, a great palace of his own, called Valhalla, and each god and each +goddess had a home built of precious metals and adorned with gleaming +stones. + +Then, last of all, Father Odin turned his thoughts to the making of +man. With two of his brother gods he walked, one day, on the seashore +in the beautiful empty earth which they had made; and suddenly he saw +at his feet the trunks of two trees, an ash and an elm. + +"These will serve our purpose," said Odin. But even after he had spoken +he hesitated long, for he knew that it was a solemn thing which they +were about to do-this making of human beings with souls and with the +power to suffer. At last he breathed upon the logs, and behold! they +lived and moved, and assumed a form like that of the gods themselves. +The other two gods bestowed upon them intelligence and beauty; and +then, with blessings upon the newly created pair, the three gods took +their way back to Asgard. + +From this first man and woman sprang all the human race, which dwelt +upon the earth under the constant care of the gods. Sometimes, at +sunset, men and women standing in the fields would fancy they caught +gleams from the golden palaces of the gods in the heavens; and often, +when the rain had washed the air, they saw clearly the gorgeous bridge +over which the gods passed from their city of Asgard to the earth. For +this bridge was nothing else than the rainbow. + + +AMERICAN INDIAN MYTHS + +The various tribes and families of American Indians held different +views as to the origin of the world. Some views differed but slightly, +while in other instances absolutely dissimilar stories were told. One +of the Algonkin tribes told how the queen of heaven, Atahensic, had a +grievous quarrel with her lord, Atahocan. Furious, the king of the +heavens seized his wife and threw her over the walls of the sky. Down, +down, she fell toward the vast abyss of waters which filled all space. +But as she was about to sink into the water, suddenly a tortoise raised +its back above the surface of the waters, and thus afforded her a +resting place. The tortoise grew to an immense size, and finally became +the dwelling place of all human beings. The Indians believed that the +attempts of the tortoise, wearied of one position, to settle itself +more comfortably, caused the earthquakes. + +A tradition of the Ottawa Indians is that the earth was found in the +claws and jaws of a muskrat. It grew and grew upon the surface of the +water, and the Great Spirit, who sat above watching its growth, sent +out a wolf and told him to run around the earth and then return to him, +that he might see how large the new island had become. Within a short +time the wolf was back, so the Great Spirit knew that the earth had not +yet become very large. Later he sent out the same messenger again, and +this time the wolf was gone for two years. A third time he sent the +wolf forth, and as he returned no more, the Great Spirit knew that the +earth had become a huge place, fit to live upon. + +In the legends of the Athapasca, as in those we have just read, we hear +of the great world of water. A mighty bird, "whose eyes were fire, +whose glances were lightning and the clapping of whose wings was +thunder," suddenly flew down and moved along the surface of the water. +Instantly the earth rose and remained above the surface of the water, +and this same all-powerful bird then called into being the different +animals. + +The Quiché have a similar legend, but it is very quaintly phrased: +"This is the first word and the first speech. There were neither men +nor brutes; neither birds, fish, nor crabs, stick nor stone, valley nor +mountain, stubble nor forest, nothing but the sky. The face of the land +was hidden. There was naught but the silent sea and the sky. There was +nothing joined, nor any sound, nor thing that stirred; neither any to +do evil, nor to rumble in the heavens, nor a walker on foot; only the +silent waters, only the pacified ocean, only it in its calm. Nothing +was but stillness, and rest, and darkness, and the night." A mighty +wind passed over the surface of this water, and at the sound of it the +solid land arose. + +The Indian legends as to the creation of man are as varied as those of +the creation of the world. Some relate that human beings simply sprang +from trees or from stones, but most of them agree in regarding the +Great Spirit, uncreated and eternal, as the creator of man. + +The Ojibway legend tells of two cranes, a male and a female, created by +the Great Spirit in the upper world and sent through an opening in the +sky to seek a home for themselves on the earth. They were told that +they might choose any spot as their home, and that upon making choice +they would immediately be changed into a man and a woman. They visited +one place after another, and finally made choice of a land about Lake +Superior, because here they were certain that there would always be +plenty of water and plenty of fish for food. As soon as they alighted +and folded their wings, the Great Spirit turned them into human beings. + +The Winnebago Indians believed that after the Great Spirit had created +the earth and the trees and the grass, he took a piece out of his heart +and thereof made a man. Later he made a woman, but a bit of ordinary +flesh served to make her. Thus, the Winnebagoes said, man was wise and +great, but woman was much wanting in sense. + + + + +THE DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN +[Footnote: From _The Idea of a University._] + +CARDINAL NEWMAN + + +Hence it is that it is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is +one who never inflicts pain. This description is both refined and, as +far as it goes, accurate. He is mainly occupied in merely removing the +obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed action of those about +him; and he concurs with their movements rather than takes the +initiative himself. His benefits may be considered as parallel to what +are called comforts or conveniences in arrangements of a personal +nature; like an easy chair or a good fire, which do their part in +dispelling cold and fatigue, though nature provides both means of rest +and animal heat without them. The true gentleman in like manner +carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of +those with whom he is cast--all clashing of opinion, or collision of +feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom, or resentment; his +great concern being to make every one at his ease and at home. He has +his eyes on all his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle +towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd; he can recollect +to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable allusions, or +topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and +never wearisome. He makes light of favors while he does them, and seems +to be receiving when he is conferring. He never speaks of himself +except when compelled, never defends himself by a mere retort; he has +no ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to +those who interfere with him, and interprets everything for the best. +He is never mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair +advantage, never mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments, +or insinuates evil which he dare not say out. From a long-sighted +prudence, he observes the maxim of the ancient sage, that we should +ever conduct ourselves towards our enemy as if he were one day to be +our friend. He has too much good sense to be affronted at insults, he +is too well employed to remember injuries, and too indolent to bear +malice. He is patient, forbearing, and resigned, on philosophical +principles; he submits to pain, because it is inevitable, to +bereavement, because it is irreparable, and to death, because it is his +destiny. + +If he engages in controversy of any kind, his disciplined intellect +preserves him from the blundering discourtesy of better, perhaps, but +less educated minds; who, like blunt weapons, tear and hack instead of +cutting clean, who mistake the point in argument, waste their strength +on trifles, misconceive their adversary, and leave the question more +involved than they find it. He may be right or wrong in his opinion, +but he is too clear-headed to be unjust; he is as simple as he is +forcible, and as brief as he is decisive. Nowhere shall we find greater +candor, consideration, indulgence: he throws himself into the minds of +his opponents, he accounts for their mistakes. He knows the weakness of +human reason as well as its strength, its province and its limits. + +If he be an unbeliever, he will be too profound and large-minded to +ridicule religion or to act against it; he is too wise to be a +dogmatist or fanatic in his infidelity. He respects piety and devotion; +he even supports institutions as venerable, beautiful, or useful, to +which he does not assent; he honors the ministers of religion, and it +contents him to decline its mysteries without assailing or denouncing +them. He is a friend of religious toleration, and that, not only +because his philosophy has taught him to look on all forms of faith +with an impartial eye, but also from the gentleness and effeminacy of +feeling, which is the attendant on civilization. + + + + +THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER + +_By_ ALEXANDER POPE + + + Father of all! in every age, + In every clime adored, + By saint, by savage, and by sage, + Jehovah, Jove, or Lord! + + Thou Great First Cause, least understood: + Who all my sense confined + To know but this, that Thou art good, + And that myself am blind; + + Yet gave me, in this dark estate, + And binding nature fast in fate, + Left free the human will. + + What conscience dictates to be done, + Or warns me not to do, + This, teach me more than hell to shun, + That, more than heaven pursue. + + What blessings Thy free bounty gives, + Let me not cast away; + For God is paid when man receives: + T' enjoy is to obey. + + Yet not to earth's contracted span + Thy goodness let me bound, + Or think Thee Lord alone of man, + When thousand worlds are round. + + If I am right, Thy grace impart, + Still in the right to stay; + If I am wrong, oh! teach my heart + To find that better way. + + Save me alike from foolish pride, + Or impious discontent, + At aught Thy wisdom has denied, + Or aught Thy goodness lent. + + Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see; + That mercy I to others show, + That mercy show to me. + + Mean though I am, not wholly so, + Since quickened by Thy breath; + Oh, lead me wheresoe'er I go, + Through this day's life or death. + + This day, be bread and peace my lot: + All else beneath the sun, + Thou know'st if best bestowed or not, + And let Thy will be done. + + To Thee, whose temple is all space, + Whose altar earth, sea, skies, + One chorus let all being raise, + All nature's incense rise! + + + + +INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP + +_By_ ROBERT BROWNING + + + You know we French stormed Ratisbon: + A mile or so away, + On a little mound, Napoleon + Stood on our storming day; + With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, + Legs wide, arms locked behind, + As if to balance the prone brow + Oppressive with its mind. + + Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans + That soar, to earth may fall, + Let once my army-leader Lannes + Waver at yonder wall,--" + Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew + A rider, bound on bound + Full-galloping: nor bridle drew + Until he reached the mound. + +[Illustration: WE'VE GOT YOU RATISBON!] + + Then off there flung in smiling joy, + And held himself erect + By just his horse's mane, a boy: + You hardly could suspect--- + (So tight he kept his lips compressed, + Scarce any blood came through) + + + You looked twice ere you saw his breast + Was all but shot in two. + + "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace + We've got you Ratisbon! + The Marshal's in the market place, + And you'll be there anon, + To see your flag-bird flap its vans + Where I, to heart's desire, + Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans + Soared up again like fire. + + The chief's eye flashed; but presently + Softened itself, as sheathes + A film the mother eagle's eye + When her bruised eaglet breathes. + "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride + Touched to the quick, he said: + "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside, + Smiling, the boy fell dead. + +I. FACTS TO KNOW + +This little poem is very different from the poems of Longfellow, which +we read a few pages back. It is very nervous and tense, and as you read +it, it seems jerky in movement, not smooth as the waters of the +Charles. Then again, sometimes words are omitted that make it a little +difficult to understand at first reading. Moreover, Browning uses words +in curious ways that Longfellow would not have thought about. + +There are many interesting things to learn about this incident, +however, and after we have learned them, we appreciate the poem very +much better. First we need to know the following facts: + +_Ratisbon_, or _Regensburg_, is a city in Bavaria, on the Danube River. + +Napoleon Bonaparte, the great Emperor of the French, was much the man +the poem shows us. + +_Prone brow_ means that Napoleon's brow was inclined forward, that his +head was drooping. + +_Lannes_ was a famous French marshal, who showed remarkable powers of +leadership. Both his legs were shot away at the Battle of Aspern, and he +died a few days later at Vienna. + +_Out-thrust full-galloping, flag-bird_, are compound words which +Browning has formed for his own use. + +_Fancy_ in the fifth line means _can imagine_. + +_Vans_ in the fourth stanza is an old word no longer in use. It means +_wings_. + +The eagle has what is really a third eyelid, a thin translucent +membrane, which naturalists call the nictitating, or winking, membrane. +It may be drawn over the eye independently of the other lids. You may +have seen ducks, chickens or other birds drawing this milky film back +and forth over their eyes as they looked at you. + +_Nor bridle drew_, and _his chief beside_, are phrases in which Browning +has used the words out of their natural order. Can you find other +similar expressions? + + +II. THE STORY + +1. Incidents: + +(a) Napoleon watches the storming of Ratisbon. + +(b) He thinks it may be a failure. + +(c) He sees a rider galloping from out the smoke of battle. + +(d) The rider reaches Napoleon, leaps from his horse and clings to its +mane. + +(e) The rider announces the fall of Ratisbon. + +(f) Napoleon rejoices. + +(g) He speaks to the boy of his wound. + +(h) The boy answers and falls dead. + +2. The whole story might be summed up as follows: _A wounded youth +brings to Napoleon news of the fall of Ratisbon, and expires at the +emperor's feet._ + + +III. THE CHARACTERS + +There are just two persons in this little tragedy, a boy and an +emperor. Let us see what they were like; the boy is of greater interest +than the emperor. + +1. The Boy: + +(a) From the way he rode his horse, we know he must have been strong +and athletic. + +(b) He was gay and joyful, for he smiled as he dismounted from his +horse, and he smiled as he fell dead. + +(c) That he was strong-willed, we know; for his tightly compressed lips +held back the blood, and he concealed his suffering. + +(d) He was courageous: he put the flag in the market place, as we are +told in the fourth stanza. + +(e) He was ambitious, we know; for it satisfied his heart's desire to +win Ratisbon. + +(f) He was proud, else he would not have noticed that the emperor +called him wounded. Had it been a mere wound, he would never have +fallen. + +2. At different places in the poem, we find that Napoleon was +_ambitious_, yet _anxious_ over the outcome of the battle; that he was +_thoughtful_ and _resourceful_; that while he _rejoiced_ in his victory, +he _sympathized_ with the wounded boy. + + +IV. THE STAGE + +The poem is like a little drama or play in one scene. Place Napoleon in +his uniform on a little mound, and see him standing there with his head +thrust forward, looking at the storming of a city a mile or so away. +Things are indistinct in the background because the smoke of the battle +obscures the walls and towers of the city. However, Napoleon is not so +far away but that he hears the roar, and sees the denser clouds rise at +each new discharge of battery guns. From between the clouds comes the +single horse with its youthful rider galloping at full speed, without +an instant's pause, until the mound is reached. We see the young man +leap from his horse and grasp its mane to keep himself from falling, +but though his lips are compressed, we see his eyes smiling brightly as +he tells the emperor the great news. + + + + +NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE + +_By_ GHACE E. SELLON + + +One of the most daring of those who engaged in the sea-fights of the +American Revolution was Daniel Hawthorne, commander of a privateer, a +man whose courage and enterprise won for him the title of "Bold +Daniel." He came of one of the earliest American families, one that had +been established in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1637, and had contributed +not a little to the fame of that seaport, for his ancestors had been +leaders among those whose stern and narrow views of justice had led +them to persecute the Quakers and later to put to death innocent people +during the awful period of the Salem witchcraft. Yet the same hardihood +and fearless uprightness that had won esteem for Daniel Hawthorne had +distinguished the family from the very first, and was passed on to the +brave commander's descendants. His son Nathaniel, like the long line of +notable men who had gone before him, possessed a strict sense of right +and wrong, much courage and an especial fondness for the adventurous +life on the sea. Though he contributed nothing to the celebrity of his +forefathers, his son and namesake, the novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, +born in Salem, on July 4, 1804, gained for the old New England family a +glory that will last. + +It was in the home built by his father's father that Nathaniel was born +and that he spent the first four years of his life. Yet he was never +privileged to hear from the old captain's lips of the exciting sea- +skirmishes in which the "Fair America," under the command of "Bold +Daniel," had encountered and held her own against British vessels, for +his grandfather had died many years before. Nor did the young boy ever +know the pleasure of companionship with his father, who died in South +America in 1808. In a great measure, too, he was deprived of +association with his mother from the time when, following her husband's +death, she removed with her children to her father's home, in another +part of Salem. So deeply did she feel her loss that she shut herself +away from the world during the remainder of her lifetime, and kept such +strict privacy that she did not even take her meals with her family. +The children were naturally quiet and reserved, and with the example of +their mother's seclusion always before them, they took little part in +the life outside of their home. Nathaniel did not like school, and, +being under the care of relatives who allowed him much freedom, he +missed a considerable part of the early school training that most boys +receive. Yet his time was not wasted, for there were good books in his +home, and these he read of his own free will. + +When he was about eight or nine years of age, his mother took her +children to live for a time upon property owned by her family on the +shore of Lake Sebago, in Maine. Then began a period of great delight +for the young boy and his sisters. As the land was mostly covered with +woods and the settlements were far apart, there were endless +opportunities for fishing and hunting and roaming about the woods or +spending long, uninterrupted hours with favorite authors. In the winter +Nathaniel passed much time in skating on Lake Sebago, feeling wholly +free and at home in the midst of the wild life of nature. + +So far as the boy's wishes were concerned, these days in Maine might +have continued indefinitely; but his mother, feeling that he needed the +discipline of regular study, sent him back to Salem to be prepared by a +private teacher for entrance into Bowdoin College. The result of this +training was that when he was about eighteen he became a member of the +class at Bowdoin to which Longfellow and Horatio Bridge belonged, and +thus began a career at college in which he proved himself a somewhat +wayward student. The grind and drudgery of courses uninteresting to him +he shunned, yet he would not let himself fail in any work that he +undertook. Subjects that he liked he mastered readily. + +Though he found no pleasure in breaking college rules, yet he made no +pretensions to being a model student. He played cards in his room when +he might have been studying, and would go off on a fishing trip when +the fancy took him, without much regard for unfinished lessons. He +looked forward with undisguised pleasure to his vacations spent at +home, and on one occasion was so overcome by his desire to bring his +studies to an end and leave Brunswick that, a short time before the +close of the term, he wrote to his sister Louisa demanding that she +invent an excuse for his return home. After stating five reasons for +thus quitting Bowdoin, he continued: + +"If you are at a loss for an excuse, say that mother is out of health; +or that Uncle R. is going a journey on account of his health, and +wishes me to attend him; or that Elizabeth is on a visit at some +distant place, and wishes me to come and bring her home; or that George +Archer has just arrived from sea, and is to sail again immediately, and +wishes to see me before he goes; or that some of my relations are to +die or be married, and my presence is necessary on the occasion. And +lastly, if none of these excuses will suit you, and you can think of no +other, write and order me to come home without any. If you do not, I +shall certainly forge a letter, for I will be at home within a week. +Write the very day you receive this. If Elizabeth were at home, she +would be at no loss for a good excuse. If you will do what I tell you, +I shall be + Your affectionate brother, + NATH. HAWTHORNE. + +"My want of decent clothes will prevent my calling at Mrs. Sutton's. +Write immediately, write immediately, write immediately. + +"Haste, haste, post-haste, ride and run, until these shall be +delivered. You must and shall and will do as I desire. If you can think +of a true excuse, send it; if not, any other will answer the same +purpose. If I do not get a letter by Monday, or Tuesday at farthest, I +will leave Brunswick without liberty." + +It is an interesting fact that this impetuous young student was +regarded as the finest-looking man at Bowdoin. He was not much less +than six feet tall, and was strong, supple and well proportioned. His +dark hair waved back from a handsomely formed face; and his deep blue +eyes, under their heavy brows, impressed one with their remarkable +brightness and expressiveness. + +Though it may seem surprising, it is true that Nathaniel Hawthorne was +not at all conscious in his early youth of the great possibilities that +lay in him to become a writer, and that not until he had advanced in +his college course did he form the purpose of making literature a +profession. As early as sixteen years of age he had written verses that +had been published; yet he was far from believing that he had poetic +power. That he did not at this time take very seriously his ability as +a writer, may be judged from this passage in a letter to his mother +written in March, 1821: + +"I am quite reconciled to going to college, since I am to spend the +vacations with you. Yet four years of the best part of my life is a +great deal to throw away. I have not yet concluded what profession I +shall have. + +"The being a minister is of course out of the question. I should not +think that even you could desire me to choose so dull a way of life. +Oh, no, mother, I was not born to vegetate forever in one place, and to +live and die as calm and tranquil as--a puddle of water. + +"As to lawyers, there are so many of them already that one half of them +(upon a moderate calculation) are in a state of actual starvation. + +"A physician, then, seems to be 'Hobson's choice;' but yet I should not +like to live by the diseases and infirmities of my fellow-creatures. +And it would weigh very heavily on my conscience, in the course of my +practice, if I should chance to send any unlucky patient 'ad inferum,' +which being interpreted is, 'to the realms below.' Oh that I was rich +enough to live without a profession! + +"What do you think of my becoming an author, and relying for support +upon my pen? Indeed, I think the illegibility of my handwriting is very +author-like. How proud you would feel to see my works praised by the +reviewers, as equal to the proudest productions of the scribbling sons +of John Bull. But authors are always poor devils, and therefore Satan +may take them. I am in the same predicament as the honest gentleman in +'Espriella's Letters,'-- + + 'I am an Englishman, and naked I stand here, + A-musing in my mind what garment I shall wear.'" + +However, by the time of his graduation from Bowdoin College he had laid +aside his jesting and doubt, and in the following period of remarkable +seclusion spent in his mother's home in Salem he gave himself to the +work of composition. Thirteen years he passed thus in a sort of ideal +world, so shut away from his neighbors that they scarcely knew of his +existence. + +Hawthorne always felt that these years of seclusion were peculiarly +significant in his life, in that they enabled him to keep, as he said, +"the dews of his youth and the freshness of his heart." Still, he +realized that he had been much deceived in fancying that there, in his +solitary chamber, he could imagine all passions, all feelings and +states of the heart and mind. + +Of all that was written in these years the author gave out for +publication only the romance _Fanshawe,_ which he regarded later +as a very inferior production, and the various stories published at +length in the collection known as _Twice Told Tales._ Fame came +very slowly. Though the worth of these writings was discovered by +people of good literary judgment, it was not of the kind to make them +widely popular. Sometimes the young author was so overcome by +discouragement that it would seem as if only the confidence in his +final success felt by his friends could save him from despair. + +Relief from this situation came in a most wholesome way. In 1839 George +Bancroft secured for Hawthorne a position as weigher and gauger in the +Boston Customhouse, and thus his lonely life of brooding came to an +end. In discharging his duties he came into much-needed everyday +contact with practical men and affairs. This office he held for two +years until the Whigs won the presidential election and the Democrats +went out of power. Meanwhile he had written _Grandfather's Chair,_ +a collection of children's stories concerning early New England +history. + +Somewhat previous to the appointment to the office in the Customhouse +had taken place an event which was even more full of important meaning. +While he was living in Salem he had become acquainted with the Peabody +family and in their home had met the young woman who later became his +wife, and who brought into his life the powerful influence for good +that more than anything else developed the fine qualities of his nature +and drew forth his powers as a writer. He had preferred to live hidden +away from every one if he must give up the beauty and purity of the +thought-world for the harshness and ugliness of the actual world +without. But in his association with Sophia Peabody his faith in the +reality that lay back of his beautiful visions was so strengthened that +he felt a deep peace and joy never known to him before. The loveliness +of her character is shown in her letters, and it is not surprising that +Hawthorne should on one occasion write, in response to a letter from +her, "I never, till now, had a friend who could give me repose; all + have disturbed me, and, whether for pleasure or pain, it was still +disturbance. But peace overflows from your heart into mine. Then I feel +that there is a Now, and that Now must be always calm and happy, and +that sorrow and evil are but phantoms that seem to flit across it." + +In the summer of 1842 Hawthorne and Miss Peabody were married and went +to live in the "Old Manse," in Concord. In the preceding year he had +unfortunately invested money in a settlement known as the Brook Farm, +where people of different classes of society were to live together on +an equality, all sharing alike the duties of the farm life, and all +contributing to the expenses of the common living. The experiment +proved a failure and Hawthorne withdrew disgusted. With this hope of +providing for himself and his wife destroyed, he found it necessary to +work industriously, and as a result a new series of stories for +children, the _Mosses from an Old Manse_, appeared in 1846. + +In the same year he was made surveyor of the collection of revenue at +the Salem Customhouse. Then for a time he ceased to write, until his +discovery among some rubbish in the customhouse of an old manuscript +that gave him excellent material for a greater work of fiction than he +had ever before attempted, called him back to literary effort. The +actual composition of the book was not begun, however, until the day on +which Hawthorne lost his position as surveyor. + +When he made known this unfortunate event to his wife, instead of +becoming depressed, she exclaimed joyfully, "Oh, then, you can write +your book!" and a little later, pulling open a drawer, showed him a +considerable sum of money that she had been saving all unknown to him. +Thus it became possible for him to devote himself to the work that +proved to be his masterpiece, _The Scarlet Letter,_ published in 1850. +The unusual excellence of the romance brought to the writer far-spread +praise and popularity, and he became at length recognized as a foremost +American man of letters. + +The Hawthornes now went to live at Lenox, in the mountains of western +Massachusetts. In their delightful home in this place the novelist +produced a second great romance, _The House of the Seven Gables,_ and +then gave up four months to rest. This vacation was largely a playtime +spent with his two older children, Una and Julian, the younger daughter +Rose being then only a baby. He had worked so hard that he was ready for +plenty of fun, and this he and his two young playfellows found in +excursions for wild flowers or nuts, in bathing in the lake or sending +over its surface home-made toy sail-boats, in romping through the woods +or reading or story-telling. After this happy period it is not +surprising that Hawthorne should have written easily and with enjoyment +the _Wonder Book_ for children, a simple and entertaining series of +stories in which old legends are put into attractive new forms. + +[Illustration: WAYSIDE, HAWTHORNE'S HOME AT CONCORD] + +After the removal from Lenox in 1851, the family stayed for a short time +in West Newton, where _The Blithedale Romance_ was written, and then +settled at the Wayside, the second of the famous homes of Hawthorne in +Concord. Not long afterward were published the _Tanglewood Tales_, which +continue the _Wonder Book_ series; and a biography of his intimate +friend, Franklin Pierce. When in 1853 Pierce became president of the +United States, he appointed Hawthorne to be the consul at Liverpool, +England, and thus came to an end the quiet life at Concord. + +The publicity into which Hawthorne's duties as consul brought him was +very disagreeable to one of his retiring disposition. He could feel at +ease only among those whose gentle and sensitive natures responded to +his own; hence attendance at formal dinners, speech making and other +social obligations that forced him often into the company of more or +less uncongenial people, seemed scarcely bearable to him. It was with +relief then, that he resigned the consulate in 1857 and went to live in +southern Europe. The greater part of his time until his return to +America in 1860 was passed in Italy, and near Florence was written the +last of his celebrated romances, _The Marble Faun_. + +During the four remaining years of his life, spent at the Wayside, in +Concord, Hawthorne's strength gradually ebbed away. Nevertheless, he +was able to produce _Our Old Home,_ in which he described scenes from +English life, as well as _Septimus Felton_ and parts of two other +romances. In 1864, while traveling for his health through southern New +Hampshire with his friend Franklin Pierce, Hawthorne died in the quiet, +sudden way in which he had hoped that he should pass from earth. He was +buried in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, where a simple headstone marks his +grave. + +As the cheerfulness and simple beauty of Hawthorne's stories for +children are as light among the gloom and sadness that overshadowed his +works for older people, so his love for children and his delight in +their companionship illumine his character and bring into view his rare +gentleness and purity of nature. In recalling the days when she was a +little girl, his daughter Rose has told us: + +"My father's enjoyment of frolicking fun was as hilarious as that +accorded by some of us to wildest comic opera. He had a delicate way of +throwing himself into the scrimmage of laughter, and I do not for an +instant attempt to explain how he managed it. I can say that he lowered +his eyelids when he laughed hardest, and drew in his breath half a +dozen times with dulcet sounds and a murmur of mirth between. Before +and after this performance he would look at you straight from under his +black brows, and his eyes seemed dazzling. I think the hilarity was +revealed in them, although his cheeks rounded in ecstasy. I was a +little roguish child, but he was the youngest and merriest person in +the room when he was amused." + +Though the suffering and wrong that he saw in the world deeply +perplexed and saddened him, yet he found so much of happier meaning in +life and expressed this with such marvelous power and grace that no one +to-day holds a worthier place in American literature. That no successor +can take this place nor imitate the subtle beauty of his style, we feel +to be true as we read the lines written by the poet Longfellow, just +after the death of Hawthorne: + + "Now I look back, and meadow, manse and stream + Dimly my thought defines; + I only see--a dream within a dream-- + The hill-top hearsed with pines. + + "I only hear above his place of rest + Their tender undertone, + The infinite longings of a troubled breast, + The voice so like his own. + + "There in seclusion and remote from men + The wizard hand lies cold, + Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen, + And left the tale half told. + + "Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power, + And the lost dew regain? + The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower + Unfinished must remain!" + + + + +THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS +[Footnote: From _Grandfather's Chair._] + +_By_ NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE + + +Captain John Hull was the mint-master of Massachusetts, and coined all +the money that was made there. This was a new line of business, for in +the earlier days of the colony the current coinage consisted of gold +and silver money of England, Portugal, and Spain. These coins being +scarce, the people were often forced to barter their commodities +instead of selling them. + +For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he perhaps exchanged a +bear-skin for it. If he wished for a barrel of molasses, he might +purchase it with a pile of pine boards. Musket-bullets were used +instead of farthings. The Indians had a sort of money called wampum, +which was made of clam-shells, and this strange sort of specie was +likewise taken in payment of debts by the English settlers. Bank-bills +had never been heard of. There was not money enough of any kind, in +many parts of the country, to pay the salaries of the ministers, so +that they sometimes had to take quintals of fish, bushels of corn, or +cords of wood instead of silver or gold. + +As the people grew more numerous and their trade one with another +increased, the want of current money was still more sensibly felt. To +supply the demand the general court passed a law for establishing a +coinage of shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Captain John Hull was +appointed to manufacture this money, and was to have about one shilling +out of every twenty to pay him for the trouble of making them. + +Hereupon all the old silver in the colony was handed over to Captain +John Hull. The battered silver cans and tankards, I suppose, and silver +buckles, and broken spoons, and silver buttons of worn-out coats, and +silver hilts of swords that had figured at court,--all such curious old +articles were doubtless thrown into the melting pot together. But by +far the greater part of the silver consisted of bullion from the mines +of South America, which the English buccaneers--who were little better +than pirates--had taken from the Spaniards and brought to +Massachusetts. + +All this old and new silver being melted down and coined, the result +was an immense amount of splendid shillings, sixpences, and +threepences. Each had the date 1652 on the one side and the figure of a +pine tree on the other. Hence they were called pine-tree shillings. And +for every twenty shillings that he coined, you will remember, Captain +John Hull was entitled to put one shilling into his own pocket. + +The magistrates soon began to suspect that the mint-master would have +the best of the bargain. They offered him a large sum of money if he +would but give up that twentieth shilling which he was continually +dropping into his own pocket. But Captain Hull declared himself +perfectly satisfied with the shilling. And well he might be, for so +diligently did he labor that in a few years his pockets, his money- +bags, and his strong box were overflowing with pine-tree shillings. + +When the mint-master had grown very rich a young man, Samuel Sewell by +name, came a-courting to his only daughter. His daughter--whose name I +do not know, but we will call her Betsey--was a fine, hearty damsel, by +no means so slender as some young ladies of our own days. On the +contrary, having always fed heartily on pumpkin pies, doughnuts, Indian +puddings, and other Puritan dainties, she was as round and plump as a +pudding herself. With this round, rosy Miss Betsey did Samuel Sewell +fall in love. As he was a young man of good character, industrious in +his business, and a member of the church, the mint-master very readily +gave his consent. + +"Yes, you may take her," said he, in his rough way, "and you'll find +her a heavy burden enough." + +On the wedding-day we may suppose that honest John Hull dressed himself +in a plum-colored coat, all the buttons of which were made of pine-tree +shillings. The buttons of his waist-coat were sixpences, and the knees +of his small clothes were buttoned with silver threepences. Thus +attired, he sat with great dignity in Grandfather's chair, and, being a +portly old gentleman, he completely filled it from elbow to elbow. On +the opposite side of the room, between her bridemaids, sat Miss Betsey. +She was blushing with all her might, and looked like a full-blown peony +or a great red apple. + +There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine purple coat and gold- +lace waistcoat, with as much finery as the Puritan laws and customs +would allow him to put on. His hair was cropped close to his head, +because Governor Endicott had forbidden any man to wear it below the +ears. But he was a very personable young man, and so thought the bride- +maids and Miss Betsey herself. + +The mint-master also was pleased with his new son-in-law, especially as +he had courted Miss Betsey out of pure love, and had said nothing at +all about her portion. So, when the marriage ceremony was over, Captain +Hull whispered a word to two of his men-servants, who immediately went +out, and soon returned lugging in a large pair of scales. They were +such a pair as wholesale merchants use for weighing bulky commodities, +and quite a bulky commodity was now to be weighed in them. + +"Daughter Betsey," said the mint-master, "get into one side of these +scales." + +Miss Betsey--or Mrs. Sewell, as we must now call her--did as she was +bid, like a dutiful child, without any question of the why and +wherefore. But what her father could mean, unless to make her husband +pay for her by the pound (in which case she would have been a dear +bargain), she had not the least idea. + +"And now," said honest John Hull to the servants, "bring that box +hither." + +The box to which the mint-master pointed was a huge, square, iron-bound +oaken chest; it was big enough, my children, for all four of you to +play at hide-and-seek in. The servants tugged with might and main, but +could not lift this enormous receptacle, and were finally obliged to +drag it across the floor. Captain Hull then took a key from his girdle, +unlocked the chest, and lifted its ponderous lid. Behold! it was full +to the brim of bright pine-tree shillings fresh from the mint, and +Samuel Sewell began to think that his father-in-law had got possession +of all the money in the Massachusetts treasury. But it was only the +mint-master's honest share of the coinage. + +[Illustration: HANDFUL AFTER HANDFUL WAS THROWN IN] + +Then the servants, at Captain Hull's command, heaped double handfuls of +shillings into one side of the scales while Betsey remained in the +other. Jingle, jingle, went the shillings as handful after handful was +thrown in, till, plump and ponderous as she was, they fairly weighed +the young lady from the floor. + +"There, son Sewell!" cried the honest mint-master, resuming his seat in +Grandfather's chair, "take these shillings for my daughter's portion. +Use her kindly and thank Heaven for her. It is not every wife that's +worth her weight in silver." + + + + +LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND + +_By_ FELICIA BROWNE HEMANS + + + The breaking waves dash'd high + On a stern and rock-bound coast, + And the woods against a stormy sky + Their giant branches toss'd; + + And the heavy night hung dark + The hills and waters o'er, + When a band of exiles moor'd their bark + On the wild New England shore. + + Not as the conqueror comes, + They, the true-hearted, came; + Not with the roll of the stirring drums, + And the trumpet that sings of fame; + + Not as the flying come, + In silence and in fear;-- + They shook the depths of the desert gloom + With their hymns of lofty cheer. + + Amidst the storm they sang, + And the stars heard and the sea; + And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang + To the anthem of the free! + + The ocean eagle soar'd + From his nest by the white wave's foam; + And the rocking pines of the forest roar'd-- + This was their welcome home! + + There were men with hoary hair + Amidst that pilgrim band;-- + Why had _they_ come to wither there, + Away from their childhood's land? + + There was woman's fearless eye, + Lit by her deep love's truth; + There was manhood's brow serenely high, + And the fiery heart of youth. + + What sought they thus afar?-- + Bright jewels of the mine? + The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? + They sought a faith's pure shrine! + + Ay, call it holy ground, + The soil where first they trod. + They have left unstain'd what there they found-- + Freedom to worship God. + + + + + +THE SUNKEN TREASURE +[Footnote: From _Grandfather's Chair._] + +_By_ NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE + + +Picture to yourselves, my dear children, a handsome old-fashioned room, +with a large open cupboard at one end, in which is displayed a +magnificent gold cup with some other splendid articles of gold and +silver plate. In another part of the room, opposite to a tall looking- +glass, stands our beloved chair, newly polished and adorned with a +gorgeous cushion of crimson velvet tufted with gold. + +In the chair sits a man of strong and sturdy frame, whose face has been +roughened by northern tempests and blackened by the burning sun of the +West Indies. He wears an immense periwig flowing down over his +shoulders. His coat has a wide embroidery of golden foliage, and his +waistcoat likewise is all flowered over and bedizened with gold. His +red, rough hands, which have done many a good day's work with the +hammer and adze, are half covered by the delicate lace ruffles at his +wrists. On a table lies his silver-hilted sword, and in a corner of the +room stands his gold-headed cane, made of a beautifully polished West +India wood. + +Somewhat such an aspect as this did Sir William Phipps present when he +sat in Grandfather's chair after the king had appointed him governor of +Massachusetts. Truly, there was need that the old chair should be +varnished and decorated with a crimson cushion in order to make it +suitable for such a magnificent-looking personage. + +But Sir William Phipps had not always worn a gold-embroidered coat, nor +always sat so much at his ease as he did in Grandfather's chair. He was +a poor man's son, and was born in the province of Maine, where he used +to tend sheep upon the hills in his boyhood and youth. Until he had +grown to be a man he did not even know how to read and write. Tired of +tending sheep, he next apprenticed himself to a ship-carpenter, and +spent about four years in hewing the crooked limbs of oak trees into +knees for vessels. + +In 1673, when he was twenty-two years old, he came to Boston, and soon +afterward was married to a widow who had property enough to set him up +in business. It was not long, however, before he lost all the money +that he had acquired by his marriage and became a poor man again. Still +he was not discouraged. He often told his wife that some time or other +he should be very rich and would build a "fair brick house" in the +Green Lane of Boston. + +Do not suppose, children, that he had been to a fortune-teller to +inquire his destiny. It was his own energy and spirit of enterprise and +his resolution to lead an industrious life that made him look forward +with so much confidence to better days. + +Several years passed away, and William Phipps had not yet gained the +riches which he promised to himself. During this time he had begun to +follow the sea for a living. In the year 1684 he happened to hear of a +Spanish ship which had been cast away near the Bahama Islands, and +which was supposed to contain a great deal of gold and silver. Phipps +went to the place in a small vessel, hoping that he should be able to +recover some of the treasure from the wreck. He did not succeed, +however, in fishing up gold and silver enough to pay the expenses of +his voyage. + +But before he returned he was told of another Spanish ship or galleon +which had been cast away near Porto de la Plata. She had now lain as +much as fifty years beneath the waves. This old ship had been laden +with immense wealth, and hitherto nobody had thought of the possibility +of recovering any part of it from the deep sea which was rolling, and +tossing it about. But, though it was now an old story, and the most +aged people had almost forgotten that such a vessel had been wrecked, +William Phipps resolved that the sunken treasure should again be +brought to light. + +He went to London and obtained admittance to King James, who had not +yet been driven from his throne. He told the king of the vast wealth +that was lying at the bottom of the sea. King James listened with +attention, and thought this a fine opportunity to fill his treasury +with Spanish gold. He appointed William Phipps to be captain of a +vessel called the _Rose Algier_, carrying eighteen guns and +ninety-five men. So now he was Captain Phipps of the English navy. + +Captain Phipps sailed from England in the _Rose Algier_, and cruised for +nearly two years in the West Indies, endeavoring to find the wreck of +the Spanish ship. But the sea is so wide and deep that it is no easy +matter to discover the exact spot where a sunken vessel lies. The +prospect of success seemed very small, and most people would have +thought that Captain Phipps was as far from having money enough to +build a "fair brick house" as he was while he tended sheep. + +The seamen of the _Rose Algier_ became discouraged and gave up all hope +of making their fortunes by discovering the Spanish wreck. They wanted +to compel Captain Phipps to turn pirate. There was a much better +prospect, they thought, of growing rich by plundering vessels which +still sailed in the sea than by seeking for a ship that had lain +beneath the waves full half a century. They broke out in open mutiny, +but were finally mastered by Phipps and compelled to obey his orders. +It would have been dangerous, however, to continue much longer at sea +with such a crew of mutinous sailors, and, besides, the _Rose Algier_ +was leaky and unseaworthy. So Captain Phipps judged it best to return to +England. + +Before leaving the West Indies he met with a Spaniard, an old man, who +remembered the wreck of the Spanish ship and gave him directions how to +find the very spot. It was on a reef of rocks a few leagues from Porto +de la Plata. + +On his arrival in England, therefore, Captain Phipps solicited the king +to let him have another vessel and send him back again to the West +Indies. But King James, who had probably expected that the _Rose Algier_ +would return laden with gold, refused to have anything more to do with +the affair. Phipps might never have been able to renew the search if the +Duke of Albemarle and some other noblemen had not lent their assistance. +They fitted out a ship and gave the command to Captain Phipps. He sailed +from England and arrived safely at Porto de la Plata, where he took an +adze and assisted his men to build a large boat. + +The boat was intended for the purpose of going closer to the reef of +rocks than a large vessel could safely venture. When it was finished +the captain sent several men in it to examine the spot where the +Spanish ship was said to have been wrecked. They were accompanied by +some Indians who were skilful divers and could go down a great way into +the depths of the sea. + +The boat's crew proceeded to the reef of rocks and rowed round and +round it a great many times. They gazed down into the water, which was +so transparent that it seemed as if they could have seen the gold and +silver at the bottom had there been any of those precious metals there. +Nothing, however, could they see--nothing more valuable than a curious +sea-shrub which was growing beneath the water in a crevice of the reef +of rocks. It flaunted to and fro with the swell and reflux of the +waves, and looked as bright and beautiful as if its leaves were gold. + +"We won't go back empty-handed," cried an English sailor, and then he +spoke to one of the Indian divers: "Dive down and bring me that pretty +sea-shrub there. That's the only treasure we shall find." + +Down plunged the diver, and soon rose dripping from the water, holding +the sea-shrub in his hand. But he had learned some news at the bottom +of the sea. + +"There are some ship's guns," said he the moment he had drawn breath, +"some great cannon, among the rocks near where the shrub was growing." + +[Illustration: UP CAME TREASURE IN ABUNDANCE] + +No sooner had he spoken than the English sailors knew that they had +found the very spot where the Spanish galleon had been wrecked so many +years before. The other Indian divers immediately plunged over the +boat's side and swam headlong down, groping among the rocks and sunken +cannon. In a few moments one of them rose above the water with a heavy +lump of silver in his arms. The single lump was worth more than a +thousand dollars. The sailors took it into the boat, and then rowed +back as speedily as they could, being in haste to inform Captain Phipps +of their good luck. + +But, confidently as the captain had hoped to find the Spanish wreck, +yet, now that it was really found, the news seemed too good to be true. +He could not believe it till the sailors showed him the lump of silver. + +"Thanks be to God!" then cried Captain Phipps. "We shall every man of +us make our fortunes!" + +Hereupon the captain and all the crew set to work with iron rakes and +great hooks and lines fishing for gold and silver at the bottom of the +sea. Up came the treasure in abundance. Now they beheld a table of +solid silver, once the property of an old Spanish grandee. Now they +found a sacramental vessel which had been destined as a gift to some +Catholic church. Now they drew up a golden cup fit for the King of +Spain to drink his wine out of. Perhaps the bony hand of its former +owner had been grasping the precious cup and was drawn up along with +it. Now their rakes or fishing lines were loaded with masses of silver +bullion. There were also precious stones among the treasure, glittering +and sparkling so that it is a wonder how their radiance could have been +concealed. + +There is something sad and terrible in the idea of snatching all this +wealth from the devouring ocean, which had possessed it for such a +length of years. It seems as if men had no right to make themselves +rich with it. It ought to have been left with the skeletons of the +ancient Spaniards who had been drowned when the ship was wrecked, and +whose bones were now scattered among the gold and silver. + +But Captain Phipps and his crew were troubled with no such thoughts as +these. After a day or two they lighted on another part of the wreck, +where they found a great many bags of silver dollars. But nobody could +have guessed that these were moneybags. By remaining so long in the +salt water they had become covered over with a crust which had the +appearance of stone, so that it was necessary to break them in pieces +with hammers and axes. When this was done a stream of silver dollars +gushed out upon the deck of the vessel. + +The whole value of the recovered treasure--plate, bullion, precious +stones, and all--was estimated at more than two millions of dollars. It +was dangerous even to look at such a vast amount of wealth. A sea- +captain who had assisted Phipps in the enterprise utterly lost his +reason at the sight of it. He died two years afterward, still raving +about the treasures that lie at the bottom of the sea. It would have +been better for this man if he had left the skeletons of the +shipwrecked Spaniards in quiet possession of their wealth. + +Captain Phipps and his men continued to fish up plate, bullion, and +dollars as plentifully as ever till their provisions grew short. Then, +as they could not feed upon gold and silver any more than old King +Midas could, they found it necessary to go in search of better +sustenance. Phipps resolved to return to England. He arrived there in +1687. and was received with great joy by the Duke of Albemarle and +other English lords who had fitted out the vessel. Well they might +rejoice, for they took by far the greater part of the treasure to +themselves. + +The captain's share, however, was enough to make him comfortable for +the rest of his days. It also enabled him to fulfil his promise to his +wife by building a "fair brick house" in the Green Lane of Boston. The +Duke of Albemarle sent Mrs. Phipps a magnificent gold cup worth at +least five thousand dollars. Before Captain Phipps left London, King +James made him a knight, so that, instead of the obscure ship-carpenter +who had formerly dwelt among them, the inhabitants of Boston welcomed +him on his return as the rich and famous Sir William Phipps. + +He was too active and adventurous a man to sit still in the quiet +enjoyment of his good fortune. In 1690 he went on a military expedition +against the French colonies in America, conquered the whole Province of +Acadia, and returned to Boston with a great deal of plunder. In the +same year Sir William took command of an expedition against Quebec, but +did not succeed in capturing the city. In 1692, King William III +appointed him governor of Massachusetts. + + + + +THE HUTCHINSON MOB [Footnote: From _Grandfather's Chair_.] + +_By_ NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE + + +On the evening of the 26th of August, 1765, a bonfire was kindled in +King Street. It flamed high upward, and threw a ruddy light over the +front of the Town-house, on which was displayed a carved representation +of the royal arms. The gilded vane of the cupola glittered in the +blaze. The kindling of this bonfire was the well-known signal for the +populace of Boston to assemble in the street. + +Before the tar barrels of which the bonfire was made were half burned +out a great crowd had come together. They were chiefly laborers and +seafaring men, together with many young apprentices and all those idle +people about town who are ready for any kind of mischief. Doubtless +some schoolboys were among them. + +While these rough figures stood round the blazing bonfire you might +hear them speaking bitter words against the high officers of the +province. Governor Bernard, [Footnote: It was Governor Francis Bernard +who did much to hasten on the Revolutionary War. He was very harsh in +his treatment of the colonists, and it was on his representation of +their secret traitorous designs that the British ordered troops +stationed in Boston. This aroused a violent opposition, which was not +quelled before war finally broke out.] Hutchinson, [Footnote: This +Thomas Hutchinson was the last royal governor of the Province of +Massachusetts Bay. He was born in Boston, and was a descendant of the +famous Anne Hutchinson. At the time of the incident described in this +selection, he was lieutenant-governor of the province, and as chief +justice, had issued the so-called Writs of Assistance, which brought +upon him the anger of the colonists. Under these Writs it was possible +for a constable, or other public officer, to enter any building and +take therefrom goods upon which the duty had not been paid. In the +hands of tyrannical officers, these Writs would entirely destroy the +privacy of any family. When the Stamp Act was passed, Hutchinson +accepted it as legal, though he had opposed it on principle. By this +action he brought upon himself the intense animosity of the colonists.] +Oliver, [Footnote: Andrew Oliver was, on the passage of the Stamp Act, +appointed distributer for Massachusetts. This displeased the people, +and less than two weeks before the mob attacked the Hutchinson house, +Oliver was hanged in effigy, and a new building, supposed to be +intended for his office, was burned to the ground. This did not allay +the excitement of the colonists, who followed Oliver and threatened him +so savagely that he finally promised not to receive the stamps. Later +the mob, hearing that he still intended to serve, took him to the +"Liberty Tree," and under threats of hanging, forced him to swear that +he had never intended to distribute the stamps. When Hutchinson became +governor in 1770, Oliver was given the lieutenant-governorship, in +which position he wrote letters that brought him again into antagonism +with the colonists, and the British government was asked to remove him +from office.] Storey, Hallowell, and other men whom King George +delighted to honor were reviled as traitors to the country. Now and +then, perhaps, an officer of the Crown passed along the street, wearing +the gold-laced hat, white wig, and embroidered waistcoat which were the +fashion of the day. + +But when the people beheld him they set up a wild and angry howl, and +their faces had an evil aspect, which was made more terrible by the +flickering blaze of the bonfire. + +"I should like to throw the traitor right into that blaze!" perhaps one +fierce rioter would say. + +"Yes, and all his brethren, too!" another might reply; "and the +governor and old Tommy Hutchinson into the hottest of it!" + +"And the Earl of Bute [Footnote: The Earl of Bute was a British +statesman who, as secretary of state, became most unpopular not only in +the colonies, but in England itself. He was an ancient supporter of +royal authority, and exacted the most unquestioning obedience from his +inferiors.] along with them!" muttered a third, "and burn the whole +pack of them under King George's nose! No matter if it singed him!" + +Some such expressions as these, either shouted aloud or muttered under +the breath, were doubtless heard in King Street. The mob, meanwhile, +were growing fiercer and fiercer, and seemed ready even to set the town +on fire for the sake of burning the king's friends out of house and +home. And yet, angry as they were, they sometimes broke into a loud +roar of laughter, as if mischief and destruction were their sport. + +But we must now leave the rioters for a time, and take a peep into the +lieutenant-governor's splendid mansion. It was a large brick house +decorated with Ionic pilasters, and stood in Garden Court Street near +the North Square. + +While the angry mob in King Street were shouting his name, Lieutenant- +Governor Hutchinson sat quietly in Grandfather's chair, unsuspicious of +the evil that was about to fall upon his head. His beloved family were +in the room with him. He had thrown off his embroidered coat and +powdered wig, and had on a loose flowing gown and purple velvet cap. He +had likewise laid aside the cares of state and all the thoughts that +had wearied and perplexed him throughout the day. + +Perhaps in the enjoyment of his home he had forgotten all about the +Stamp Act, and scarcely remembered that there was a king across the +ocean who had resolved to make tributaries of the New Englanders. +Possibly, too, he had forgotten his own ambition, and would not have +exchanged his situation at that moment to be governor or even a lord. + +[Illustration: "FATHER, DO YOU NOT HEAR?"] + +The wax candles were now lighted, and showed a handsome room well +provided with rich furniture. On the walls hung the pictures of +Hutchinson's ancestors, who had been eminent men in their day and were +honorably remembered in the history of the country. Every object served +to mark the residence of a rich, aristocratic gentleman who held +himself high above the common people and could have nothing to fear +from them. In the corner of a room, thrown carelessly upon a chair, +were the scarlet robes of the chief justice. This high office, as well +as those of lieutenant-governor, councilor, and judge of the probate, +was filled by Hutchinson. + +Who or what could disturb the domestic quiet of such a great and +powerful personage as now sat in Grandfather's chair? + +The lieutenant-governor's favorite daughter sat by his side. She leaned +on the arm of our great chair and looked up affectionately into her +father's face, rejoicing to perceive that a quiet smile was on his +lips. But suddenly a shade came across her countenance. She seemed to +listen attentively, as if to catch a distant sound. + +"What is the matter, my child?" inquired Hutchinson. + +"Father, do you not hear a tumult in the streets?" said she. + +The lieutenant-governor listened. But his ears were duller than those +of his daughter: he could hear nothing more terrible than the sound of +a summer breeze sighing among the tops of the elm trees. + +"No, foolish child!" he replied, playfully patting her cheek. "There is +no tumult. Our Boston mobs are satisfied with what mischief they have +already done. The king's friends need not tremble." + +So Hutchinson resumed his pleasant and peaceful meditations, and again +forgot that there were any troubles in the world. But his family were +alarmed, and could not help straining their ears to catch the slightest +sound. More and more distinctly they heard shouts, and then the +trampling of many feet. While they were listening one of the neighbors +rushed breathless into the room. + +"A mob! a terrible mob!" cried he. "They have broken into Mr. Storey's +house and into Mr. Hallowell's, and have made themselves drunk with the +liquors in his cellar, and now they are coming hither, as wild as so +many tigers. Flee, lieutenant-governor, for your life! for your life!" + +"Father, dear father, make haste!" shrieked his children. + +But Hutchinson would not hearken to them. He was an old lawyer, and he +could not realize that the people would do anything so utterly lawless +as to assault him in his peaceful home. He was one of King George's +chief officers, and it would be an insult and outrage upon the king +himself if the lieutenant-governor should suffer any wrong. + +"Have no fears on my account," said he. "I am perfectly safe. The +king's name shall be my protection." + +Yet he bade his family retire into one of the neighboring houses. His +daughter would have remained, but he forced her away. + +The huzzas and riotous uproar of the mob were now heard close at hand. +The sound was terrible, and struck Hutchinson with the same sort of +dread as if an enraged wild beast had broken loose and were roaring for +its prey. He crept softly to the window. There he beheld an immense +concourse of people filling all the street and rolling onward to his +house. It was like a tempestuous flood that had swelled beyond its +bounds and would sweep everything before it. Hutchinson trembled; he +felt at that moment that the wrath of the people was a thousandfold +more terrible than the wrath of a king. That was a moment when a +loyalist and an aristocrat like Hutchinson might have learned how +powerless are kings, nobles, and great men when the low and humble +range themselves against them. King George could do nothing for his +servant now. Had King George been there he could have done nothing for +himself. If Hutchinson had understood this lesson and remembered it, he +need not in after years have been an exile from his native country, nor +finally have laid his bones in a distant land. + +[Footnote: THE RIOTERS BROKE INTO THE HOUSE] + +There was now a rush against the doors of the house. The people sent up +a hoarse cry. At this instant the lieutenant-governor's daughter, whom +he had supposed to be in a place of safety, ran into the room and threw +her arms around him. She had returned by a private entrance. + +"Father, are you mad?" cried she. "Will the king's name protect you +now? Come with me or they will have your life." + +"True," muttered Hutchinson to himself; "what care these roarers for +the name of king? I must flee, or they will trample me down on the +floor of my own dwelling." + +Hurrying away, he and his daughter made their escape by the private +passage at the moment when the rioters broke into the house. The +foremost of them rushed up the staircase and entered the room which +Hutchinson had just quitted. There they beheld our good old chair +facing them with quiet dignity, while the lion's head seemed to move +its jaws in the unsteady light of their torches. Perhaps the stately +aspect of our venerable friend, which had stood firm through a century +and a half of trouble, arrested them for an instant. But they were +thrust forward by those behind, and the chair lay overthrown. + +Then began the work of destruction. The carved and polished mahogany +tables were shattered with heavy clubs and hewn to splinters with axes. +The marble hearths and mantelpieces were broken. The volumes of +Hutchinson's library, so precious to a studious man, were torn out of +their covers and the leaves sent flying out of the windows. Manuscripts +containing secrets of our country's history which are now lost forever +were scattered to the winds. The old ancestral portraits whose fixed +countenances looked down on the wild scene were rent from the walls. +The mob triumphed in their downfall and destruction, as if these +pictures of Hutchinson's forefathers had committed the same offenses as +their descendants. A tall looking-glass which had hitherto presented a +reflection of the enraged and drunken multitude was now smashed into a +thousand fragments. We gladly dismiss the scene from the mirror of our +fancy. + +Before morning dawned the walls of the house were all that remained. +The interior was a dismal scene of ruin. A shower pattered in at the +broken windows, and when Hutchinson and his family returned they stood +shivering in the same room where the last evening had seen them so +peaceful and happy. + +[Illustration: North Church Tower, Boston] + + + + +THE BOSTON MASSACRE +[Footnote: From _Grandfather's Chair_.] + +_By_ NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE + + +It was now the 3d of March, 1770. The sunset music of the British +regiments was heard as usual throughout the town. The shrill fife and +rattling drum awoke the echoes in King Street while the last ray of +sunshine was lingering on the cupola of the Town-house. And now all the +sentinels were posted. One of them marched up and down before the +custom-house, treading a short path through the snow and longing for +the time when they would be dismissed to the warm fireside of the +guard-room. Meanwhile, Captain Preston was perhaps sitting in our great +chair before the hearth of the British Coffee-house. In the course of +the evening there were two or three slight commotions which seemed to +indicate that trouble was at hand. Small parties of young men stood at +the corners of the streets or walked along the narrow pavements. Squads +of soldiers who were dismissed from duty passed by them, shoulder to +shoulder, with the regular step which they had learned at the drill. +Whenever these encounters took place it appeared to be the object of +the young men to treat the soldiers with as much incivility as +possible. + +"Turn out, you lobster-backs!" one would say. + +"Crowd them off the sidewalks!" another would cry. "A red-coat has no +right in Boston streets!" + +"Oh, you rebel rascals!" perhaps the soldiers would reply, glaring +fiercely at the young men. "Some day or other we'll make our way +through Boston streets at the point of the bayonet!" + +One or twice such disputes as these brought on a scuffle, which passed +off, however, without attracting much notice. About eight o'clock, for +some unknown cause, an alarm bell rang loudly and hurriedly. + +At the sound many people ran out of their houses, supposing it to be an +alarm of fire. But there were no flames to be seen, nor was there any +smell of smoke in the clear, frosty air, so that most of the townsmen +went back to their own firesides and sat talking with their wives and +children about the calamities of the times. Others who were younger and +less prudent remained in the streets, for there seems to have been a +presentiment that some strange event was on the eve of taking place. + +Later in the evening, not far from nine o'clock several young men +passed by the Town-house and walked down King Street. The sentinel was +still on his post in front of the custom-house, pacing to and fro, +while as he turned a gleam of light from some neighboring window +glittered on the barrel of his musket. + +At no great distance were the barracks and the guard-house, where his +comrades were probably telling stories of battle and bloodshed. + +Down toward the custom-house, as I told you, came a party of wild young +men. When they drew near the sentinel he halted on his post and took +his musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayonet at their +breasts. + +[Illustration: NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 1804-1864] + +"Who goes there?" he cried, in the gruff, peremptory tones of a +soldier's challenge. + +The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they had a right to walk +their own streets without being accountable to a British red-coat, even +though he challenged them in King George's name. They made some rude +answer to the sentinel. There was a dispute, or perhaps a scuffle. +Other soldiers heard the noise, and ran hastily from the barracks to +assist their comrades. At the same time many of the townspeople rushed +into King Street by various avenues and gathered in a crowd round about +the custom-house. It seemed wonderful how such a multitude had smarted +up all of a sudden. + +The wrongs and insults which the people had been suffering for many +months now kindled them into a rage. They threw snowballs and lumps of +ice at the soldiers. As the tumult grew louder it reached the ears of +Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He immediately ordered eight +soldiers of the main guard to take their muskets and follow him. They +marched across the street, forcing their way roughly through the crowd +and pricking the townspeople with their bayonets. + +A gentleman (it was Henry Knox, afterward general of the American +artillery) caught Captain Preston's arm. + +"For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, "take heed what you do or there +will be bloodshed!" + +"Stand aside!" answered Captain Preston haughtily. "Do not interfere, +sir. Leave me to manage the affair." + +Arriving at the sentinel's post, Captain Preston drew up his men in a +semicircle with their faces to the crowd and their rear to the custom- +house. When the people saw the officer and beheld the threatening +attitude with which the soldiers fronted them their rage became almost +uncontrollable. + +"Fire, you lobster-backs!" bellowed some. + +"You dare not fire, you cowardly red-coats!" cried others. + +"Rush upon them!" shouted many voices. "Drive the rascals to their +barracks! Down with them! Down with them! Let them fire if they dare!" + +Amid the uproar the soldiers stood glaring at the people with the +fierceness of men whose trade was to shed blood. + +Oh, what a crisis had now arrived! Up to this very moment the angry +feelings between England and America might have been pacified. England +had but to stretch out the hand of reconciliation and acknowledge that +she had hitherto mistaken her rights, but would do so no more. Then the +ancient bond of brotherhood would again have been knit together as +firmly as in old times. The habit of loyalty which had grown as strong +as instinct was not utterly overcome. The perils shared, the victories +won in the Old French War, when the soldiers of the colonies fought +side by side with their comrades from beyond the sea, were unforgotten +yet. England was still that beloved country which the colonists called +their home. King George, though he had frowned upon America, was still +reverenced as a father. + +But should the king's soldiers shed one drop of American blood, then it +was a quarrel to the death. Never, never would America rest satisfied +until she had torn down the royal authority and trampled it in the +dust. + +"Fire if you dare, villains!" hoarsely shouted the people while the +muzzles of the muskets were turned upon them. "You dare not fire!" + +[Illustration: THE SOLDIERS FIRED] + +They appeared ready to rush upon the leveled bayonets. Captain Preston +waved his sword and uttered a command which could not be distinctly +heard amid the uproar of shouts that issued from a hundred throats. But +his soldiers deemed that he had spoken the fatal mandate, "Fire!" The +flash of their muskets lighted up the street, and the report rang +loudly between the edifices. It was said, too, that the figure of a man +with a cloth hanging down over his face was seen to step into the +balcony of the custom-house and discharge a musket at the crowd. + +A gush of smoke had overspread the scene. It rose heavily, as if it +were loath to reveal the dreadful spectacle beneath it. Eleven of the +sons of New England lay stretched upon the street. Some, sorely +wounded, were struggling to rise again. Others stirred not nor groaned, +for they were past all pain. Blood was streaming upon the snow, and +that purple stain in the midst of King Street, though it melted away in +the next day's sun, was never forgotten nor forgiven by the people. + +The town drums beat to arms, the alarm bells rang, and an immense +multitude rushed into King Street. Many of them had weapons in their +hands. The British prepared to defend themselves. A whole regiment was +drawn up in the street expecting an attack, for the townsmen appeared +ready to throw themselves upon the bayonets. + +Governor Hutchinson hurried to the spot and besought the people to have +patience, promising that strict justice should be done. A day or two +afterward the British troops were withdrawn from town and stationed at +Castle William. Captain Preston and the eight soldiers were tried for +murder, but none of them were found guilty. The judges told the jury +that the insults and violence which had been offered to the soldiers +justified them in firing at the mob. + + + + +[Illustration: THE STEED SWEPT ON] + +SHERIDAN'S RIDE + +_By_ THOMAS BUCHANAN READ + + + Up from the South at break of day, + Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, + The affrighted air with a shudder bore, + Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, + The terrible grumble and rumble and roar, + Telling the battle was on once more, + And Sheridan twenty miles away. + And wider still those billows of war + Thundered along the horizon's bar, + And louder yet into Winchester rolled + The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, + Making the blood of the listener cold + As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, + With Sheridan twenty miles away. + + But there is a road from Winchester town, + A good, broad highway leading down; + And there through the flash of the morning light, + A steed as black as the steeds of night, + Was seen to pass as with eagle flight. + As if he knew the terrible need, + He stretched away with the utmost speed; + Hills rose and fell,--but his heart was gay, + With Sheridan fifteen miles away. + + * * * * * + + Under his spurning feet the road + Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, + And the landscape sped away behind + Like an ocean flying before the wind; + And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, + Swept on with his wuld eyes full of fire; + But, lo! he is nearing his heart's desire, + He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, + With Sheridan only five miles away. + + The first that the General saw were the groups + Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops; + What was done,--what to do,--a glance told him both, + And, striking his spurs with a terrible oath, + He dashed down the line mid a storm of huzzas, + And the wave of retreat checked its course there because + The sight of the master compelled it to pause. + With foam and with dust the black charger was gray, + By the flash of his eye, and his nostril's play + He seemed to the whole great army to say, + + + "I have brought you Sheridan all the way + From Winchester, down to save the day!" + + Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan! + Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man! + And when their statues are placed on high, + Under the dome of the Union sky,-- + To the American soldier's Temple of Fame,-- + There with the glorious General's name + Be it said in letters both bold and bright: + "Here is the steed that saved the day + By carrying Sheridan into the fight, + From Winchester,--twenty miles away!" + + + + +JOAN OF ARC +[Footnote: The body of this selection has been much condensed, though +the introduction is as De Quincey wrote it.] + +_By_ THOMAS DE QUINCEY + + +What is to be thought of _her_? What is to be thought of the poor +shepherd girl from the hills and forests of Lorraine, [Footnote: +Lorraine lay between France and Germany.] that--like the Hebrew +shepherd boy [Footnote: David.] from the hills and forests of Judea-- +rose suddenly out of the quiet, out of the safety, out of the religious +inspiration, rooted in deep pastoral solitudes, to a station in the van +of armies, and to the more perilous station at the right hand of kings? +The Hebrew boy inaugurated his patriotic mission by an _act_, by a +victorious _act_, [Footnote: The killing of Goliath.] such as no +man could deny. But so did the girl of Lorraine, if we read her story +as it was read by those who saw her nearest. Adverse armies bore +witness to the boy as no pretender; but so they did to the gentle girl. +Judged by the voices of all who saw them _from a station of good-will_, +both were found true and loyal to any promises involved in their first +acts. Enemies it was that made the difference between their subsequent +fortunes. The boy rose to a splendour and a noonday prosperity, both +personal and public, that rang through the records of his people, and +became a by-word amongst his posterity for a thousand years, until the +sceptre was departing from Judah. [Footnote: See _Genesis_ XLIX: 10.] +The poor, forsaken girl, on the contrary, drank not herself from that +cup of rest which she had secured for France. She never sang together +with the songs that rose in her native Domrémy as echoes to the +departing steps of invaders. She mingled not in the festal dances at +Vaucouleurs which celebrated in rapture the redemption of France. No! +for her voice was then silent; no! for her feet were dust. Pure, +innocent, noble-hearted girl! whom, from earliest youth, ever I believed +in as full of truth and self-sacrifice, this was amongst the pledges for +_thy_ truth, that never once--no, not for a moment of weakness--didst +thou revel in the vision of coronets and honour from man. Coronets for +thee! Oh no! Honours, if they come when all is over, are for those that +share thy blood. Daughter of Domrémy, when the gratitude of thy king +shall awaken, thou wilt be sleeping the sleep of the dead. Call her, +King of France, but she will not hear thee. Cite her by the apparitors +to come and receive a robe of honour, but she will be found _en +contumace._ [Footnote: _In contempt_ is the phrase we now apply to a +person who fails to appear when summoned to appear in court.] When the +thunders of universal France, as even yet may happen, shall proclaim the +grandeur of the poor shepherd girl that gave up all for her country, thy +ear, young shepherd girl, will have been deaf for five centuries. To +suffer and to do, that was thy portion in this life; that was thy +destiny; and not for a moment was it hidden from thyself. Life, thou +saidst, is short; and the sleep which is in the grave is long; let me +use that life, so transitory, for the glory of those heavenly dreams +destined to comfort the sleep which is so long! This pure creature--pure +from every suspicion of even a visionary self-interest, even as she was +pure in senses more obvious--never once did this holy child, as regarded +herself, relax from her belief in the darkness that was traveling to +meet her. She might not prefigure the very manner of her death; she saw +not in vision, perhaps, the aerial altitude of the fiery scaffold, the +spectators without end on every road pouring into Rouen as to a +coronation, the surging smoke, the volleying flames, the hostile faces +all around, the pitying eye that lurked but here and there, until +nature and imperishable truth broke loose from artificial restraints;-- +these might not be apparent through the mists of the hurrying future. +But the voice that called her to death, _that_ she heard for ever. + +[Illustration: JOAN OF ARC _Statue by Chapu, Luxembourg, Paris _] + +Great was the throne of France even in those days, and great was he +that sat upon it; but well Joanna knew that not the throne, nor he that +sat upon it, was for _her_; but, on the contrary, that she was for +_them_; not she by them, but they by her, should rise from the dust. +Gorgeous were the lilies of France, [Footnote: The royal emblem +of France was the _fleur-de-lys_ or iris, but in translation the +phrase appears _lily-flower_.] and for centuries had the privilege +to spread their beauty over land and sea, until, in another century, +the wrath of God and man combined to wither them; but well Joanna knew, +early at Domrémy she had read that bitter truth, that the lilies of +France would decorate no garland for _her_. Flower nor bud, bell +nor blossom, would ever bloom for _her_! + + * * * * * + +Joanna, as we in England should call her, but, according to her own +statement, Jeanne (or, as M. Michelet asserts, Jean) D'Arc, was born at +Domrémy, a village on the marches of Lorraine and Champagne, and +dependent upon the town of Vaucoulcurs. Domrémy stood upon the +frontiers, and, like other frontiers, produced a _mixed_ race, +representing the _cis_ [Footnote: _This side_.] and the _trans_ +[Footnote: _Across_; the other side.]. A river (it is true) formed the +boundary-line at this point--the river Meuse; and _that_, in old days, +might have divided the populations; but in these days it did not: there +were bridges, there were ferries, and weddings crossed from the right +bank to the left. Here lay two great roads, not so much for travelers +that were few, as for armies that were too many by half. These two +roads, one of which was the great highroad between France and Germany, +_decussated_ at this very point; which is a learned way of saying that +they formed a St. Andrew's Cross, or letter X. I hope the compositor +will choose a good large X; in which case the point of intersection, the +_locus_ [Footnote: _Point_ or _place_.] of conflux and intersection for +these four diverging arms, will finish the reader's geographical +education, by showing him to a hair's-breadth where it was that Domrémy +stood. That great four-headed road was a perpetual memento to patriotic +ardour. To say "This way lies the road to Paris, and that other way to +Aix-la-Chapelle; this to Prague, that to Vienna," nourished the warfare +of the heart by daily ministrations of sense. The eye that watched for +the gleams of lance or helmet from the hostile frontier, the ear that +listened for the groaning of wheels, made the high-road itself, with +its relations to centres so remote, into a manual of patriotic duty. +The situation, therefore, _locally_, of Joanna was full of profound +suggestions to a heart that listened for the stealthy steps of change +and fear that too surely were in motion. But, if the place were grand, +the time, the burden of the time, was far more so. The air overhead in +its upper chambers was _hurtling_ with the obscure sound; was dark with +sullen fermenting of storms that had been gathering for a hundred and +thirty years. The battle of Agincourt in Joanna's childhood had reopened +the wounds of France. Crécy and Poictiers, those withering overthrows +for the chivalry of France, had, before Agincourt occurred, been +tranquilized by more than half-a-century; but this resurrection of their +trumpet wails made the whole series of battles and endless skirmishes +take their stations as parts in one drama. The graves that had closed +sixty years ago seemed to fly open in sympathy with a sorrow that echoed +their own. The monarchy of France laboured in extremity, rocked and +reeled like a ship fighting with the darkness of monsoons. The madness +of the poor king (Charles VI) falling in at such a crisis trebled the +awfulness of the time. Even the wild story of the incident which had +immediately occasioned the explosion of this madness--the case of a man +unknown, gloomy, and perhaps maniacal himself, coming out of a forest at +noonday, laying his hand upon the bridle of the king's horse, checking +him for a moment to say, "Oh, king, thou art betrayed," and then +vanishing, no man knew whither, as he had appeared for no man knew +what--fell in with the universal prostration of mind that laid France on +her knees, as before the slow unweaving of some ancient prophetic doom. +The famines, the extraordinary diseases, the insurrections of the +peasantry up and down Europe--these were chords struck from the same +mysterious harp; but these were transitory chords. There had been others +of deeper and more ominous sound. The termination of the Crusades, the +destruction of the Templars, the Papal interdicts, the tragedies caused +or suffered by the house of Anjou, and by the Emperor--these were full +of a more permanent significance. + +These were the loftiest peaks of the cloudland in the skies that to the +scientific gazer first caught the colours of the new morning in +advance. But the whole vast range alike of sweeping glooms overhead +dwelt upon all meditative minds, even upon those that could not +distinguish the tendencies nor decipher the forms. It was, therefore, +not her own age alone as affected by its immediate calamities that lay +with such weight upon Joanna's mind, but her own age as one section in +a vast mysterious drama, unweaving through a century back, and drawing +nearer continually to some dreadful crisis. Cataracts and rapids were +heard roaring ahead; and signs were seen far back, by help of old men's +memories, which answered secretly to signs now coming forward on the +eye, even as locks answer to keys. It was not wonderful that in such a +haunted solitude, with such a haunted heart, Joanna should see angelic +visions, and hear angelic voices. These voices whispered to her for +ever the duty, self-imposed, of delivering France. Five years she +listened to these monitory voices with internal struggles. At length +she could resist no longer. Doubt gave way; and she left her home for +ever in order to present herself at the dauphin's court. + +The education of this poor girl was mean according to the present +standard: was ineffably grand, according to a purer philosophic +standard: and only not good for our age because for us it would be +unattainable. She read nothing, for she could not read; but she had +heard others read parts of the Roman martyrology. She wept in sympathy +with the sad _Misereres_ [Footnote: The penitential psalm which, set to +music, is one of the most impressive Roman Catholic chants.] of the +Romish Church; she rose to heaven with the glad triumphant _Te Deums_ +[Footnote: _Te Deum laudamus_ means "We praise thee, O God" Grand +anthems of triumph and thanksgiving are here called "Te Deums" from the +first words of an ancient Latin hymn.] of Rome; she drew her comfort and +her vital strength from the rites of the same Church. But, next after +these spiritual advantages, she owed most to the advantages of her +situation. The fountain of Domrémy was on the brink of a boundless +forest; and it was haunted to that degree by fairies that the parish +priest (_curé_) was obliged to read mass there once a year, in order to +keep them in any decent bounds. Fairies are important, even in a +statistical view: certain weeds mark poverty in the soil; fairies mark +its solitude. As surely as the wolf retires before cities does the fairy +sequester herself from the haunts of the licensed victualer. A village +is too much for her nervous delicacy: at most, she can tolerate a +distant view of a hamlet. We may judge, therefore, by the uneasiness and +extra trouble which they gave to the parson, in what strength the +fairies mustered at Domrémy, and, by a satisfactory consequence, how +thinly sown with men and women must have been that region even in its +inhabited spots. But the forests of Domrémy--those were the glories of +the land: for in them abode mysterious powers and ancient secrets that +towered into tragic strength. "Abbeys there were, and abbey windows,"-- +"like Moorish temples of the Hindoos,"--that exercised even princely +power both in Lorraine and in the German Diets. These had their sweet +bells that pierced the forests for many a league at matins or vespers, +and each its own dreamy legend. Few enough, and scattered enough, were +these abbeys, so as in no degree to disturb the deep solitude of the +region; yet many enough to spread a network or awning of Christian +sanctity over what else might have seemed a heathen wilderness. This +sort of religious talisman being secured, a man the most afraid of +ghosts (like myself, suppose, or the reader) becomes armed into courage +to wander for days in their sylvan recesses. About six hundred years +before Joanna's childhood, Charlemagne was known to have hunted there. +That, of itself, was a grand incident in the traditions of a forest or a +chase. In these vast forests, also, were to be found (if anywhere to be +found) those mysterious fawns that tempted solitary hunters into +visionary and perilous pursuits. Here was seen (if anywhere seen) that +ancient stag who was already nine hundred years old, but possibly a +hundred or two more, when met by Charlemagne; and the thing was put +beyond doubt by the inscription upon his golden collar. I believe +Charlemagne knighted the stag; and, if ever he is met again by a king, +he ought to be made an earl, or, being upon the marches of France, a +marquis. Observe, I don't absolutely vouch for all these things; my own +opinion varies. On a fine breezy forenoon I am audaciously sceptical; +but as twilight sets in my credulity grows steadily, till it becomes +equal to anything that could be desired. + +Such traditions, or any others that (like the stag) connect distant +generations with each other, are, for that cause, sublime; and the +sense of the shadowy, connected with such appearances that reveal +themselves or not according to circumstances, leaves a colouring of +sanctity over ancient forests, even in those minds that utterly reject +the legend as a fact. + +But, apart from all distinct stories of that order, in any solitary +frontier between two great empires--as here, for instance, or in the +desert between Syria and the Euphrates--there is an inevitable +tendency, in minds of any deep sensibility, to people the solitudes +with phantom images of powers that were of old so vast. Joanna, +therefore, in her quiet occupation of a shepherdess, would be led +continually to brood over the political condition of her country by the +traditions of the past no less than by the mementos of the local +present. + +It is not requisite for the honour of Joanna, nor is there in this +place room, to pursue her brief career of _action_. That, though +wonderful, forms the earthly part of her story; the spiritual part is +the saintly passion of her imprisonment, trial, and execution. It is +sufficient, as concerns the former section of Joanna's life, to say +that she fulfilled, to the height of her promises, the restoration of +the prostrate throne. France had become--a province of England, and for +the ruin of both, if such a yoke could be maintained. Dreadful +pecuniary exhaustion caused the English energy to droop; and that +critical opening _La Pucelle_ used with a corresponding felicity +of audacity and suddenness (that were in themselves portentous) for +introducing the wedge of French native resources, for rekindling the +national pride, and for planting the dauphin once more upon his feet. +When Joanna appeared, he had been on the point of giving up the +struggle with the English, distressed as they were, and of flying to +the south of France. She taught him to blush for such abject counsels. +She liberated Orleans, that great city, so decisive by its fate for the +issue of the war, and then beleaguered by the English with an elaborate +application of engineering skill unprecedented in Europe. Entering the +city after sunset on the 29th of April, she sang mass on Sunday, May 8, +for the entire disappearance of the besieging force. On the 29th of +June she fought and gained over the English the decisive battle of +Patay; on the 9th of July she took Troyes by a coup-de-main [Footnote: +An unexpected and powerful attack] from a mixed garrison of English and +Burgundians; on the 15th of that month she carried the dauphin into +Rheims; on Sunday the 17th she crowned him; and there she rested from +her labour of triumph. All that was to be _done_ she had now +accomplished: what remained was--to _suffer_. + +But she, the child that, at nineteen, had wrought wonders so great for +France, was she not elated? Did she not lose, as men so often +_have_ lost, all sobriety of mind when standing upon the pinnacle +of success so giddy? Let her enemies declare. During the progress of +her movement, and in the centre of ferocious struggles, she had +manifested the temper of her feelings by the pity which she had +everywhere expressed for the suffering enemy. She forwarded to the +English leaders a touching invitation to unite with the French as +brothers, in a common crusade against infidels--thus opening the road +for a soldierly retreat. She interposed to protect the captive or the +wounded; she mourned over the excesses of her countrymen; she threw +herself off her horse to kneel by the dying English soldier, and to +comfort him with such ministrations, physical or spiritual, as his +situation allowed. "_Nolebat_," says the evidence, "_uti ense suo, aut +quemquam interficere_." [Footnote: She wished not to kill anyone with +her sword] She sheltered the English that invoked her aid in her own +quarters. She wept as she beheld, stretched on the field of battle, so +many brave enemies that had died without confession. And, as regarded +herself, her elation expressed itself thus:--On the day when, she had +finished her work, she wept; for she knew that, when her _triumphal_ +task was done, her end must be approaching. Her aspirations pointed only +to a place which seemed to her more than usually full of natural piety, +as one in which it would give her pleasure to die. And she uttered, +between smiles and tears, as a wish that inexpressibly fascinated her +heart, and yet was half-fantastic, a broken prayer that God would return +her to the solitudes from which he had drawn her, and suffer her to +become a shepherdess once more. It was a natural prayer, because nature +has laid a necessity upon every human heart to seek for rest and to +shrink from torment. Yet, again, it was a half-fantastic prayer, +because, from childhood upwards, visions that she had no power to +mistrust, and the voices which sounded in her ear for ever, had long +since persuaded her mind that for _her_ no such prayer could be granted. +Too well she felt that her mission must be worked out to the end, and +that the end was now at hand. All went wrong from this time. She herself +had created the _funds_ out of which the French restoration should grow: +but she was not suffered to witness their development, or their +prosperous application. More than one military plan was entered upon +which she did not approve. But she still continued to expose her person +as before. Severe wounds had not taught her caution. And at length, in a +sortie from Compiègne (whether through treacherous collusion on the part +of her own friends is doubtful to this day), she was made prisoner by +the Burgundians; and finally surrendered to the English. + +Now came her trial. This trial, moving of course under English +influence, was conducted in chief by the Bishop of Beauvais. He was a +Frenchman, sold to English interests, and hoping, by favour of the +English leaders, to reach the highest preferment. + +Never from the foundations of the earth was there such a trial as this, +if it were laid open in all its beauty of defence, and all its +bullishness of attack. Oh, child of France! shepherdess; peasant girl! +trodden under foot by all around thee, how I honour thy flashing +intellect, quick as God's lightning, and true as God's lightning to its +mark, that ran before France and laggard Europe by many a century, +confounding the malice of the ensnarer, and making dumb the oracles of +falsehood! + +On Easter Sunday, when the trial had been long proceeding, the poor +girl fell so ill as to cause a belief that she had been poisoned. It +was not poison. Nobody had any interest in hastening a death so +certain. M. Michelet, whose sympathies with all feelings are so quick +that one would gladly see them always as justly directed, reads the +case most truly. Joanna had a twofold malady. She was visited by a +paroxysm of the complaint called _home-sickness_. The cruel nature +of her imprisonment, and its length, could not but point her solitary +thoughts, in darkness and in chains (for chained she was), to Domrémy. +And the season, which was the most heavenly period of the spring, added +stings to this yearning. That was one of her maladies--_nostalgia_, as +medicine calls it; the other was weariness and exhaustion from daily +combats with malice. She saw that everybody hated her, and thirsted for +her blood; nay, many kind-hearted creatures that would have pitied her +profoundly, as regarded all political charges, had their natural +feelings warped by the belief that she had dealings with fiendish +powers. She knew she was to die; that was _not_ the misery; the misery +was that this consummation could not be reached without so much +intermediate strife, as if she were contending for some chance (where +chance was none) of happiness, or were dreaming for a moment of escaping +the inevitable. Why, then, _did_ she contend? Knowing that she would +reap nothing from answering her persecutors, why did she not retire by +silence from the superfluous contest? It was because her quick and eager +loyalty to truth would not suffer her to see it darkened by frauds which +_she_ could expose, but others, even of candid listeners, perhaps, could +not; it was through that imperishable grandeur of soul which taught her +to submit meekly and without a struggle to her punishment, but taught +her _not_ to submit--no, not for a moment--to calumny as to facts, or to +misconstruction as to motives. Besides, there were secretaries all +around the court taking down her words. That was meant for no good to +_her_. But the end does not always correspond to the meaning. And +Joanna might say to herself, "These words that will be used against me +tomorrow and the next day perhaps in some nobler generation may rise +again for my justification." + +On the Wednesday after Trinity Sunday in 1431, being then about +nineteen years of age, the Maid of Arc underwent her martyrdom. She was +conducted before mid-day, guarded by eight hundred spearmen, to a +platform of prodigious height, constructed of wooden billets supported +by occasional walls of lath and plaster, and traversed by hollow spaces +in every direction for the creation of air-currents. The pile "struck +terror," says M. Michelet, "by its height;" and, as usual, the English +purpose in this is viewed as one of pure malignity. But there are two +ways of explaining all that. It is probable that the purpose was +merciful. + +The circumstantial incidents of the execution, unless with more space +than I can now command, I should be unwilling to relate. I should fear +to injure, by imperfect report, a martyrdom which to myself appears so +unspeakably grand. Yet I shall, in parting, allude to one or two traits +in Joanna's demeanour on the scaffold, and to one or two in that of the +bystanders. The reader ought to be reminded that Joanna D'Arc was +subjected to an unusually unfair trial of opinion. Any of the elder +Christian martyrs had not much to fear of _personal_ rancour. The martyr +was chiefly regarded as the enemy of Caesar; at times, also, where any +knowledge of the Christian faith and morals existed, with the enmity +that arises spontaneously in the worldly against the spiritual. But the +martyr, though disloyal, was not supposed to be therefore anti-national; +and still less was _individually_ hateful. What was hated (if anything) +belonged to his class, not to himself separately. Now, Joanna, if hated +at all, was hated personally, and in Rouen on national grounds. Hence +there would be a certainty of calumny arising against _her_ such as +would not affect martyrs in general. That being the case, it would +follow of necessity that some people would impute to her a willingness +to recant. No innocence could escape _that_. Now, had she really +testified this willingness on the scaffold, it would have argued nothing +at all but the weakness of a genial nature shrinking from the instant +approach of torment. And those will often pity that weakness most who, +in their own persons, would yield to it least. Meantime, there never was +a calumny uttered that drew less support from the recorded +circumstances. It rests upon no _positive_ testimony, and it has a +weight of contradicting testimony to stem. + +Now, I affirm that she did not recant. I throw the _onus_ [Footnote: +Burden.] of the argument not on presumable tendencies of nature, but on +the known facts of that morning's execution, as recorded by multitudes. +What else, I demand, than mere weight of metal, absolute nobility of +deportment, broke the vast line of battle then arrayed against her? What +else but her meek, saintly demeanour won, from the enemies that till now +had believed her a witch, tears of rapturous admiration? "Ten thousand +men," says M. Michelet himself--"ten thousand men wept"; and of these +ten thousand the majority were political enemies knitted together by +cords of superstition. What else was it but her constancy, united with +her angelic gentleness, that drove the fanatic English soldier--who had +sworn to throw a faggot on her scaffold, as _his_ tribute of abhorrence, +that _did_ so, that fulfilled his vow--suddenly to turn away a penitent +for life, saying everywhere that he had seen a dove rising upon wings to +heaven from the ashes where she had stood? What else drove the +executioner to kneel at every shrine for pardon to _his_ share in the +tragedy? And, if all this were insufficient, then I cite the closing act +of her life as valid on her behalf, were all other testimonies against +her. The executioner had been directed to apply his torch from below. He +did so. The fiery smoke rose upwards in billowing volumes. A Dominican +monk was then standing almost at her side. Wrapped up in his sublime +office, he saw not the danger, but still persisted in his prayers. Even +then, when the last enemy was racing up the fiery stairs to seize her, +even at that moment did this noblest of girls think only for _him_, the +one friend that would not forsake her, and not for herself; bidding him +with her last breath to care for his own preservation, but to leave +_her_ to God. That girl, whose latest breath ascended in this sublime +expression of self-oblivion, did not utter the word _recant_ either with +her lips or in her heart. No, she did not, though one should rise from +the dead to swear it. + + * * * * * + +The shepherd girl that had delivered France--she, from her dungeon, +she, from her baiting at the stake, she, from her duel with fire, as +she entered her last dream--saw Domrémy, saw the fountain of Domrémy, +saw the pomp of forests in which her childhood had wandered. That +Easter festival which man had denied to her languishing heart--that +resurrection of springtime, which the darkness of dungeons had +intercepted from _her_, hungering after the glorious liberty of +forests--were by God given back into her hands, as jewels that had been +stolen from her by robbers. With those, perhaps (for the minutes of +dreams can stretch into ages), was given back to her by God the bliss +of childhood. By special privilege for _her_ might be created, in +this farewell dream, a second childhood, innocent as the first; but +not, like _that_, sad with the gloom of a fearful mission in the +rear. This mission had now been fulfilled. The storm was weathered; the +skirts even of that mighty storm were drawing off. The blood that she +was to reckon for had been exacted; the tears that she was to shed in +secret had been paid to the last. The hatred to herself in all eyes had +been faced steadily, had been suffered, had been survived. And in her +last fight upon the scaffold she had triumphed gloriously; victoriously +she had tasted the stings of death. For all, except this comfort from +her farewell dream, she had died--died, amidst the tears of ten +thousand enemies died, amidst the drums and trumpets of armies--died, +amidst peals redoubling upon peals, volleys upon volleys, from the +saluting clarions of martyrs. + +Bishop of Beauvais! because the guilt-burdened man is in dreams haunted +and waylaid by the most frightful of his crimes, and because upon that +fluctuating mirror-rising (like the mocking mirrors of _mirage_ in +Arabian deserts) from the fens of death--most of all are reflected the +sweet countenances which the man has laid in ruins; therefore I know, +bishop, that you also, entering your final dream, saw Domrémy. That +fountain, of which the witnesses spoke so much, showed itself to your +eyes in pure morning dews; but neither dews, nor the holy dawn, could +cleanse away the bright spots of innocent blood upon its surface. By +the fountain, bishop, you saw a woman seated, that hid her face. But, +as _you_ draw near, the woman raises her wasted features. Would Domrémy +know them again for the features of her child? Ah, but _you_ know them, +bishop, well! Oh, mercy! what a groan was _that_ which the servants, +waiting outside the bishop's dream at his bedside, heard from his +labouring heart, as at this moment he turned away from the fountain and +the woman, seeking rest in the forests afar off. Yet not _so_ to escape +the woman, whom once again he must behold before he dies. In the forests +to which he prays for pity, will he find a respite? What a tumult, what +a gathering of feet is there! In glades where only wild deer should run, +armies and nations are assembling. There is the Bishop of Beauvais, +clinging to the shelter of thickets. What building is that which hands +so rapid are raising? Is it a martyr's scaffold? Will they burn the +child of Domrémy a second time? No: it is a tribunal that rises to the +clouds. Shall my Lord of Beauvais sit again upon the judgment-seat, and +again number the hours for the innocent? Ah no! he is the prisoner at +the bar. Already all is waiting: the mighty audience is gathered, the +Court is hurrying to their seats, the witnesses are arrayed, the judge +is taking his place. My lord, have you no counsel? "Counsel I have none: +in heaven above, or on earth beneath, counsellor there is none now that +would take a brief from _me:_ all are silent." Is it, indeed, come to +this? Alas! the time is short, the tumult is wondrous, the crowd +stretches away into infinity, but yet I will search in it for somebody +to take your brief; I know of somebody that will be your counsel. Who +is this that cometh from Domrémy? Who is she in bloody coronation robes +from Rheims? Who is she that cometh with blackened flesh from walking +the furnaces of Rouen? This is she, the shepherd girl, counsellor that +had none for herself, whom I choose, bishop, for yours. She it is, I +engage, that shall take my lord's brief. She it is, bishop, that would +plead for you: yes, bishop, SHE--when heaven and earth are silent. + + + + +PANCRATIUS + +_By_ CARDINAL WISEMAN + +Note.--The selection following has been adapted from _Fabiola_, or _The +Church of the Catacombs_, a tale by Cardinal Wiseman. Pancratius, one of +the early Christian martyrs, was a boy of fourteen at the time the story +opens and was but little older at his death. At school his nobility +incurred the enmity of Corvinus, whose hatred lead to the early +denunciation of Pancratius. + + +When the Roman emperor decided to exterminate the Christians and sought +to publish the bloody edict, Pancratius in a perilous attempt succeeded +in tearing down and burning the royal proclamation. Corvinus had a +narrow escape from the emperor's wrath, and his hatred of Pancratius +increased. Unable to secure another victim, Corvinus seized his old +schoolmaster and gave him up to torture and death at the hands of his +pupils. On his return from this bloody expedition, Corvinus, drunken +and reckless, was thrown from his chariot into a canal and would have +drowned had not Pancratius rescued him. At that time Pancratius +recovered the knife with which he had cut down the edict and which was +kept by Corvinus as evidence against the young Christian. Ignorant of +his rescuer's name, Corvinus still sought for Pancratius, and this +selection shows how he succeeded. + +At length they came near one of the chambers which flanked the eastern +side of the longer arm of the hall. [Footnote: Corvinus and his, +companion are searching among the Christian captives at work on the +baths of Diocletian for suitable men to fight the lions in the +amphitheater.] In one of them they saw a number of convicts (if we must +use the term) resting after their labor. The center of the group was an +old man, most venerable in appearance, with a long white beard +streaming on his breast, mild in aspect, gentle in word, cheerful in +his feeble action. It was the confessor Saturninus, now in his +eightieth year, yet loaded with two heavy chains. At each side were the +more youthful laborers, Cyriacus and Sisinnius, of whom it is recorded, +that in addition to their own task-work, one on each side, they bore up +his bonds. Indeed, we are told that their particular delight was, over +and above their own assigned portion of toil, to help their weaker +brethren, and perform their work for them. + +Several other captives lay on the ground about the old man's feet, as +he, seated on a block of marble, was talking to them with a sweet +gravity, which riveted their attention, and seemed to make them forget +their sufferings. What was he saying to them? Was he requiting Cyriacus +for his extraordinary charity by telling him that, in commemoration of +it, a portion of the immense pile which they were toiling to raise +would be dedicated to God under his invocation, become a title, and +close its line of titulars by an illustrious name? Or was he recounting +another more glorious vision, how this smaller oratory was to be +superseded and absorbed by a glorious temple in honour of the Queen of +Angels, which should comprise that entire superb hall, with its +vestibule, under the directing skill of the mightiest artistic genius +that the world should ever see? [Footnote: Michelangelo--The noble and +beautiful church of Sta Maria degh Angeli was made by him out of the +central hall and circular vestibule. The floor was afterwards raised, +and thus the pillars were shortened and the height of the building +diminished by several feet.] What more consoling thought could have +been vouchsafed to those poor oppressed captives than that they were +not so much erecting baths for the luxury of a heathen people, or the +prodigality of a wicked emperor, as in truth building up one of the +stateliest churches in which the true God is worshiped, and the Virgin +Mother, who bore Him incarnate, is affectionately honoured? + +From a distance Corvinus saw the group, and pausing, asked the +superintendent the names of those who composed it. He enumerated them +readily; then added, "You may as well take that old man, if you like; +for he is not worth his keep so far as work goes." + +"Thank you," replied Corvinus; "a pretty figure he would cut in the +amphitheater. The people are not to be put off with decrepit old +creatures, whom a single stroke of a bear's or tiger's paw kills +outright. They like to see young blood flowing, and plenty of life +struggling against wounds and blows before death comes to decide the +contest. But there is one there whom you have not named. His face is +turned from us; he has not the prisoner's garb, nor any kind of fetter. +Who can it be?" + +"I do not know his name," answered Rabirius; "but he is a fine youth, +who spends much of his time among the convicts, relieves them and even +at times helps them in their work. He pays, of course, well for being +allowed all this; so it is not our business to ask questions." + +"But it is mine, though," said Corvinus sharply; and he advanced for +this purpose. The voice caught the stranger's ear, and he turned round +to look. + +Corvinus sprang upon him with the eye and action of a wild beast, +seized him, and called out with exultation, "Fetter him instantly. This +time, at least, Pancratius, thou shalt not escape." + + * * * * * + +Pancratius, with some twenty more, fettered and chained together, was +led through the streets to prison. As they were thus dragged along, +staggering and stumbling helplessly, they were unmercifully struck by +the guards who conducted them; and any persons near enough to reach +them dealt them blows and kicks without remorse. Those further off +pelted them with stones or offal, and assailed them with insulting +ribaldry. They reached the Mamertine prison at last, and were thrust +down into it, and found there already other victims, of both sexes, +awaiting their time of sacrifice. The youth had just time, while he was +being handcuffed, to request one of the captors to inform his mother +and Sebastian of what had happened; and he slipt his purse into his +hand. + +A prison in ancient Rome was not the place to which a poor man might +court committal, hoping there to enjoy better fare and lodging than he +did at home. Two or three of these dungeons, for they are nothing +better, still remain; and a brief description of the one which we have +mentioned will give our readers some idea of what confessorship cost, +independent of martyrdom. + +The Mamertine prison is composed of two square subterranean chambers, +one below the other, with only one round aperture in the center of each +vault, through which alone light, air, food, furniture, and men could +pass. When the upper story was full, we may imagine how much of the two +first could reach the lower. No other means of ventilation, drainage, +or access could exist. The walls, of large stone blocks, had, or rather +have, rings fastened into them, for securing the prisoners, but many +used to be laid on the floor, with their feet fastened in the stocks; +and the ingenious cruelty of the persecutors often increased the +discomfort of the damp stone floor, by strewing with broken potsherds +this only bed allowed to the mangled limbs and welted backs of the +tortured Christians. + + * * * * * + +Pancratius and his companions stood before the judge, for it wanted +only three days to the _munus,_ or games, at which they were to "fight +with wild beasts." + +"What art thou?" he asked of one. + +"I am a Christian, by the help of God," was the rejoinder. + +At length, after having put similar questions and received similar +answers from all the others, except from one wretched man, who, to the +grief of the rest, wavered and agreed to offer sacrifice, the prefect +turned to Pancratius, and thus addressed him: "And now, insolent youth, +who hadst the audacity to tear down the Edict of the divine emperors, +even for thee there shall be mercy if yet thou wilt sacrifice to the +gods. Show thus at once thy piety and thy wisdom, for thou art yet but +a stripling." + +Pancratius signed himself with the sign of the saving cross, and calmly +replied, "I am the servant of Christ. Him I acknowledge by my mouth, +hold firm in my heart, _incessantly adore_. This youth which you +behold in me has the--wisdom of grey hairs, if it worship but one God. +But your gods, with those who adore them, are destined to eternal +destruction." + +"Strike him on the mouth for his blasphemy, and beat him with rods," +exclaimed the angry judge. + +"I thank thee," replied meekly the noble youth, "that thus I suffer +some of the same punishment as was inflicted on my Lord." + +The prefect then pronounced sentence in the usual form. "Lucianus, +Pancratius, Rusticus, and others, and the women Secunda and Rufina, who +have all owned themselves Christians, and refuse to obey the sacred +emperor, or worship the gods of Rome, we order to be exposed to wild +beasts in the Flavian amphitheater." + +The mob howled with delight and hatred, and accompanied the confessors +back to their prison with this rough music, but they were gradually +overawed by the dignity of their gait, and the shining calmness of +their countenances. Some men asserted that they must have perfumed +themselves, for they could perceive a fragrant atmosphere surrounding +their persons. + + * * * * * + +The morning broke light and frosty; and the sun, glittering on the +gilded ornaments of the temples and other public buildings, seemed to +array them in holiday splendor. And the people, too, soon come forth +into the streets in their gayest attire, decked out with unusual +richness. The various streams converge towards the Flavian +amphitheater, now better known by the name of the Coliseum. Each one +directs his steps to the arch indicated by the number of his ticket, +and thus the huge monster keeps sucking in by degrees that stream of +life, which soon animates and enlivens its oval tiers over tiers of +steps, till its interior is tapestried all round with human faces, and +its walls seem to rock and wave to and fro, by the swaying of the +living mass. And, after this shall have been gorged with blood and +inflamed with fury, it will melt once more, and rush out in a thick +continuous flow through the many avenues by which it entered, now +bearing their fitting name of _Vomitoria;_ for never did a more +polluted stream of the dregs and pests of humanity issue from an +unbecoming reservoir, through ill-assorted channels, than the Roman +mob, drunk with the blood of martyrs, gushing forth from the pores of +the amphitheater. + +The emperor came to the games surrounded by his court, with all the +pomp and circumstance which befitted an imperial festival, keen as any +of his subjects to witness the cruel games, and to feed his eyes with a +feast of carnage. His throne was on the eastern side of the +amphitheater, where a large space, called the _pulvinar,_ was +reserved, and richly decorated for the imperial court. + +Various sports succeeded one another; and many a gladiator, killed or +wounded, had sprinkled the bright sand with blood, when the people, +eager for fiercer combats, began to call, or roar, for the Christians +and the wild beasts. It is time, therefore, for us to think of our +captives. + +Before the citizens were astir, they had been removed from the prison +to a strong chamber called the _spoliatorium,_ the press-room, +where their fetters and chains were removed. An attempt was made to +dress them gaudily as heathen priests and priestesses; but they +resisted, urging that as they had come spontaneously to the fight, it +was unfair to make them appear in a disguise which they abhorred. +During the early part of the day they remained thus together +encouraging one another, and singing the Divine praises, in spite of +the shouts which drowned their voices from time to time. + +While they were thus engaged, Corvinus entered, and, with a look of +insolent triumph, thus accosted Pancratius: + +"Thanks to the gods, the day is come which I have long desired. It has +been a tiresome and tough struggle between us who should fall +uppermost. I have won it." + +"How sayest thou, Corvinus; when and how have I contended with thee?" + +"Always--everywhere. Thou hast haunted me in my dreams; thou hast +danced before me like a meteor, and I have tried in vain to grasp thee. +Thou hast been my tormentor, my evil genius. I have hated thee; devoted +thee to the infernal gods; cursed thee and loathed thee; and now my day +of vengeance is come." + +"Methinks," replied Pancratius, smiling, "this does not look like a +combat. It has been all on one side; for _I_ have done none of these +things towards thee." + +"No? thinkest thou that I believe thee, when thou hast lain ever as a +viper on my path, to bite my heel and overthrow me?" + +"Where, I again ask?" + +"Everywhere, I repeat. At school; in the Forum; in the cemetery; in my +father's own court. Yes, everywhere." + +"And nowhere else but where thou hast named? When thy chariot was +dashed furiously along the Appian way, didst thou not hear the tramp of +horses' hoofs trying to overtake thee?" + +"Wretch!" exclaimed the prefect's son in a fury; "and was it thy +accursed steed which, purposely urged forward, frightened mine, and +nearly caused my death?" + +"No, Corvinus, hear me calmly. It is the last time we shall speak +together. I was travelling quietly with a companion towards Rome, after +having paid the last rites to our master Cassianus" (Corvinus winced, +for he knew not this before), "when I heard the clatter of a runaway +chariot, and then, indeed, I put spurs to my horse; and it is well for +thee that I did." + +"How so?" + +"Because I reached thee just in time--when thy strength was nearly +exhausted, and thy blood almost frozen by repeated plunges in the cold +canal; and when thy arm, already benumbed, had let go its last stay, +and thou wast falling backwards for the last time into the water. I saw +thee--I knew thee, as I took hold of thee, insensible. I had in my +grasp the murderer of one most dear to me. Divine justice seemed to +have overtaken him; there was only my will between him and his doom. It +was my day of vengeance, and I fully gratified it." + +"Ha! and how, pray?" + +"By drawing thee out, and laying thee on the bank, and chafing thee +till thy heart resumed its functions; and then consigning thee to thy +servants, rescued from death." + +"Thou liest!" screamed Corvinus; "my servants told me that _they_ drew +me out." + +"And did they give thee my knife, together with thy leopard-skin purse, +which I found on the ground, after I had dragged thee forth?" + +"No; they said the purse was lost in the canal. It _was_ a leopard-skin +purse, the gift of an African sorceress. What sayest thou of the knife?" + +"That it is here, see it, still rusty with the water; thy purse I gave +to thy slaves; my own knife I retained for myself; look at it again. +Dost thou believe me now? Have I been always a viper on thy path?" + +Too ungenerous to acknowledge that he had been conquered in the +struggle between them, Corvinus only felt himself withered, degraded, +before his late school fellow, crumbled like a clot of dust in his +hands. His very heart seemed to him to blush. He felt sick, and +staggered, hung down his head, and sneaked away. He cursed the games, +the emperor, the yelling rabble, the roaring beasts, his horses and +chariot, his slaves, his father, himself--but he could not, for his +life, curse Pancratius. + +He had reached the door, when the youth called him back. He turned and +looked at him with a glance of respect, almost approaching to love. +Pancratius put his hand on his arm, and said, "Corvinus, I have freely +forgiven thee. There is One above, who cannot forgive without +repentance. Seek pardon from Him." + +Corvinus slunk away, and appeared no more that day. He lost the sight +on which his coarse imagination had gloated for days, which he had +longed for during months. + +As he was leaving the prisoners, the _lanista_, or master of the +gladiators, entered the room and summoned them to the combat. They +hastily embraced one another, and took leave on earth. They entered the +arena, or pit of the amphitheater, opposite the imperial seat, and had +to pass between two files of _venatores_, or huntsmen, who had the +care of the wild beasts, each armed with a heavy whip wherewith he +inflicted a blow on every one, as he went by him. They were then +brought forward, singly or in groups, as the people desired, or the +directors of the spectacle chose. Sometimes the intended prey was +placed on an elevated platform to be more conspicuous; at another time +he was tied up to posts to be more helpless. A favorite sport was to +bundle up a female victim in a net, and expose her to be rolled, +tossed, or gored by wild cattle. One encounter with a single wild beast +often finished the martyr's course; while occasionally three or four +were successively let loose, without their inflicting a mortal wound. + +But we must content ourselves with following the last steps of our +youthful hero, Pancratius. As he was passing through the corridor that +led to the amphitheater, he saw Sebastian standing on one side, with a +lady closely enwrapped in her mantle, and veiled. He at once recognized +her, stopped before her, knelt, and taking her hand, affectionately +kissed it. "Bless me, my dear mother," he said, "in this your promised +hour." + +"See, my child, the heavens," she replied, "and look up thither, where +Christ with His saints expecteth thee. Fight the good fight, for thy +soul's sake, and show thyself faithful and steadfast in thy Saviour's +love. Remember him too whose relic thou bearest round thy neck." +[Footnote: The father of Pancratius had suffered martyrdom, and the +relic mentioned was stained with the parent's blood.] + +"Its price shall be doubled in thine eyes, my sweet mother, ere many +hours are over." + +"On, on, an let us have none of this fooling," said the _lanista_, +with a stroke of his cane. + +Lucina retreated; while Sebastian pressed the hand of her son, and +whispered in his ear, "Courage, dearest boy; may God bless you! I shall +be close behind the emperor; give me a last look there, and--your +blessing." + +Pancratius soon stood in the midst of the arena, the last of the +faithful band. He had been reserved, in hopes that the sight of others' +sufferings might shake his constancy; but the effect had been the +reverse. He took his stand where he was placed, and his yet delicate +frame contrasted with the swarthy and brawny limbs of the executioners +who surrounded him. They now left him alone; and we cannot better +describe him than Eusebius, an eye-witness, does a youth a few years +older: + +"You might have seen a tender youth, who had not yet entered his +twentieth year, standing without fetters, with his hands stretched +forth in the form of a cross, and praying to God most attentively, with +a fixed and untrembling heart; not retiring from the place where he +first stood, nor swerving the least, while bears and leopards, +breathing fury and death in their very snort, were just rushing on to +tear his limbs in pieces. And yet, I know not how, their jaws seemed +seized and closed by some divine and mysterious power, and they drew +altogether back." + +Such was the attitude, and such the privilege of our heroic youth. The +mob were frantic, as they saw one wild beast after another careering +madly round him, roaring and lashing its sides with its tail, while he +seemed placed in a charmed circle, which they could not approach. A +furious bull, let loose upon him, dashed madly forward, with his neck +bent down, then stopped suddenly, as though he had struck his head +against a wall, pawed the ground, and scattered the dust around him, +bellowing fiercely. + +"Provoke him, thou coward!" roared out, still louder, the enraged +emperor. + +Pancratius awoke as from a trance, and waving his arms, ran towards his +enemy; but the savage brute, as if a lion had been rushing on him, +turned round, and ran away towards the entrance, where, meeting his +keeper, he tossed him high into the air. All were disconcerted except +the brave youth, who had resumed his attitude of prayer; when one of +the crowd shouted out, "He has a charm round his neck; he is a +sorcerer!" The whole multitude reechoed the cry, till the emperor, +having commanded silence, called out to him, "Take that amulet from thy +neck, and cast it from thee." + +"Sire," replied the youth, with a musical voice, that rang sweetly +through the hushed amphitheater, "it is no charm that I wear, but a +memorial of my father, who in this very place made gloriously the same +confession which I now humbly make: I am a Christian; and for love of +Jesus Christ, God and man, I gladly give my life. Do not take from me +this only legacy. Try once more; it was a panther which gave him his +crown; perhaps it will bestow the same on me." + +For an instant there was dead silence; the multitude seemed softened, +won. The graceful form of the gallant youth, his now inspired +countenance, the thrilling music of his voice, the intrepidity of his +speech, and his generous self-devotion to his cause, had wrought upon +that cowardly herd. Pancratius felt it, and his heart quailed before +their mercy more than before their rage; he had promised himself heaven +that day; was he to be disappointed? Tears started into his eyes, as +stretching forth his arms once more in the form of a cross, he called +aloud: + +"Today; oh yes, today, most blessed Lord, is the appointed day of Thy +coming. Tarry not longer; show now Thy mercy to me who in Thee +believe!" + +"The panther!" shouted out a voice. "The panther!" responded twenty. +"The panther!" thundered forth a hundred thousand, in a chorus like the +roaring of an avalanche. A cage started up, as if by magic, from the +midst of the sand, and as it rose, its side fell down, and freed the +captive of the desert. With one graceful bound the elegant savage +gained its liberty; and, though enraged by darkness, confinement, and +hunger, it seemed almost playful as it leaped and turned about. At last +it caught sight of its prey. All its feline cunning and cruelty seemed +to return and to conspire together in animating the cautious and +treacherous movements of its velvet-clothed frame. The whole +amphitheater was as silent as if it had been a hermit's cell, while +every eye was intent, watching the stealthy approaches of the sleek +brute to its victim. Pancratius was still standing in the same place, +facing the emperor, apparently so absorbed in higher thoughts as not to +heed the movements of his enemy. The panther had stolen round him, as +if disdaining to attack him except in front. Crouching upon its breast, +slowly advancing one paw before another, it had gained its measured +distance, and there it lay for some moments of breathless suspense. A +deep snarling growl, an elastic spring through the air, and it was seen +gathered up with its hind feet on the chest and its fangs and fore +claws on the throat of the martyr. + +He stood erect for a moment, brought his right hand to his mouth, and +looking up at Sebastian with a smile, directed to him, by a graceful +wave of his arm, the last salutation of his lip--and fell. The arteries +of the neck had been severed, and the slumber of martyrdom at once +settled on his eyelids. His blood softened, brightened, enriched, and +blended inseparably with that of his father. The mother's sacrifice had +been accepted. + + + + +ALFRED THE GREAT +[Footnote: This selection is taken from _A Child's History of +England_. Much of the history of Alfred is traditional, and it is +not at all probable that Dickens's picture is strictly true.] + +_By_ CHARLES DICKENS + + +Alfred the Great was a young man, three and twenty years of age, when +he became king. [Footnote: Alfred was a grandson of Egbert, the first +king of England. Ethelwulf, son of Egbert, and his three older sons had +been kings of England, when in 871 Alfred ascended the throne.] Twice +in his childhood he had been taken to Rome, where the Saxon nobles were +in the habit of going on journeys which they supposed to be religious; +and once he had stayed for some time in Paris. Learning, however, was +so little cared for then, that at twelve years old he had not been +taught to read; although, of the four sons of King Ethelwulf, he, the +youngest, was the favorite. But he had--as most men who grow up to be +great and good are generally found to have had--an excellent mother; +and, one day, this lady, whose name was Osburgha, happened, as she was +sitting among her sons, to read a book of Saxon poetry. The art of +printing was not known until long and long after that period, and the +book, which was written, was what is called "illuminated," with +beautiful bright letters, richly painted. The brothers admiring it very +much, their mother said, "I will give it to that one of you four +princes who first learns to read." Alfred sought out a tutor that very +day, applied himself to learn with great diligence, and soon won the +book. He was proud of it all his life. + +This great king, in the first year of his reign, fought nine battles +with the Danes. He made some treaties with them too, by which the false +Danes swore that they would quit the country. They pretended to +consider that they had taken a very solemn oath in swearing this upon +the holy bracelets that they wore, and which were always buried with +them when they died; but they cared little for it, for they thought +nothing of breaking oaths, and treaties too, as soon as it suited their +purpose, and coming back again to fight, plunder, and burn, as usual. +One fatal winter, in the fourth year of King Alfred's reign, they +spread themselves in great numbers over the whole of England; and so +dispersed and routed the king's soldiers that the king was left alone, +and was obliged to disguise himself as a common peasant, and to take +refuge in the cottage of one of his cowherds who did not know his face. + +Here, King Alfred, while the Danes sought him far and wide, was left +alone one day, by the cowherd's wife, to watch some cakes which she put +to bake upon the hearth. But, being at work upon his bows and arrows, +with which he hoped to punish the false Danes when a brighter time +should come, and thinking deeply of his poor unhappy subjects whom the +Danes chased through the land, his noble mind forgot the cakes, and +they were burnt. "What!" said the cowherd's wife, who scolded him well +when she came back, and little thought she was scolding the king, "you +will be ready enough to eat them by and by, and yet you cannot watch +them, idle dog?" + +At length, the Devonshire men made head against a new host of Danes who +landed on their coast; killed their chief, and captured their flag, on +which was represented the likeness of a Raven--a very fit bird for a +thievish army like that, I think. The loss of their standard troubled +the Danes greatly, for they believed it to be enchanted--woven by the +three daughters of one father in a single afternoon--and they had a +story among themselves that when they were victorious in battle, the +Raven stretched his wings and seemed to fly; and that when they were +defeated, he would droop. He had good reason to droop now, if he could +have done anything half so sensible; for King Alfred joined the +Devonshire men, made a camp with them on a piece of firm ground in the +midst of a bog in Somersetshire, and prepared for a great attempt for +vengeance on the Danes, and the deliverance of his oppressed people. + +But first, as it was important to know how numerous those pestilent +Danes were, and how they were fortified, King Alfred, being a good +musician, disguised himself as a gleeman or minstrel, and went, with +his harp, to the Danish camp. He played and sang in the very tent of +Guthrum, the Danish leader, and entertained the Danes as they caroused. +While he seemed to think of nothing but his music, he was watchful of +their tents, their arms, their discipline, everything that he desired +to know. And right soon did this great king entertain them to a +different tune; for, summoning all his true followers to meet him at an +appointed place, where they received him with joyful shouts and tears, +as the monarch whom many of them had given up for lost or dead, he put +himself at their head, marched on the Danish camp, defeated the Danes +with great slaughter, and besieged them for fourteen days to prevent +their escape. But, being as merciful as he was good and brave, he then, +instead of killing them, proposed peace, on condition that they should +altogether depart from the western part of England and settle in the +east, and that Guthrum should become a Christian in remembrance of the +Divine religion which now taught his conqueror, the noble Alfred, to +forgive the enemy who had so often injured him. This Guthrum did. At +his baptism, King Alfred was his godfather. And Guthrum was an +honorable chief who well deserved that clemency; for, ever afterwards, +he was loyal and faithful to the king. The Danes under him were +faithful too. They plundered and burned no more, but worked like honest +men. They ploughed, and sowed, and reaped, and led good honest English +lives. And I hope the children of those Danes played, many a time, with +Saxon children in the sunny fields; and that Danish young men fell in +love with Saxon girls, and married them; and that English travelers, +benighted at the doors of Danish cottages, often went in for shelter +until morning; and that Danes and Saxons sat by the red fire, friends, +talking of King Alfred the Great. + +All the Danes were not like these under Guthrum; for after some years, +more of them came over, in the old plundering and burning way-among +them a fierce pirate of the name of Hastings, who had the boldness to +sail up the Thames to Gravesend with eighty ships. For three years +there was a war with these Danes; and there was a famine in the +country, too, and a plague, both upon human creatures and beasts. But +King Alfred, whose mighty heart never failed him, built large ships +nevertheless, with which to pursue the pirates on the sea; and he +encouraged his soldiers, by his brave example, to fight valiantly +against them on the shore. At last, he drove them all away, and then +there was repose in England. + +As great and good in peace as he was great and good in war, King Alfred +never rested from his labors to improve his people. He loved to talk +with clever men and with travelers from foreign countries, and to write +down what they told him for his people to read. He had studied Latin +after learning to read English, and now another of his labors was to +translate Latin books into the English-Saxon tongue, that his people +might be interested and improved by their contents.[Footnote: He is +said to have translated large portions of the Bible into Anglo Saxon.] +He made just laws, that they might live more happily and freely; he +turned away all partial judges that no wrong might be done them; he was +so careful of their property, and punished robbers so severely, that it +was a common thing to say that under the great King Alfred garlands of +golden chains and jewels might have hung across the streets, and no man +would have touched one. He founded schools; he patiently heard causes +himself in his court of justice, the great desires of his heart were to +do right to all his subjects, and to leave England better, wiser, +happier in all ways, than he found it. + +[Illustration: ALFRED ALLOWS THE CAKES TO BURN] + +His industry in these efforts was quite astonishing. Every day he +divided into certain portions, and in each portion devoted himself to a +certain pursuit. That he might divide his time exactly, he had wax +torches or candles made, which were all of the same size, were notched +across at regular distances, and were always kept burning. Thus, as the +candles burnt down, he divided the day into notches almost as +accurately as we now divide it into hours upon the clock. But when the +candles were first invented, it was found that the wind and draughts of +air, blowing into the palace through the doors and windows and through +the chinks in the wall, caused them to gutter and burn unequally. To +prevent this, the king had them put into cases formed of wood and white +horn. And these were the first lanthorns [Footnote: This is the early +form of our word _lantern_.] ever made in England. All this time he was +afflicted with a terrible unknown disease, which caused him violent and +frequent pain that nothing could relieve. He bore it, as he had borne +all the troubles of his life, like a brave, good man, until he was +fifty-three years old; and then, having reigned thirty years, he died. +He died in the year nine hundred and one; but long ago as that is, his +fame, and the love and gratitude with which his subjects regarded him, +are freshly remembered to the present hour. + + + + +THE BURIAL OF MOSES + +_By_ CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER + + +NOTE.-The biblical account of the death of Moses, upon which _The Burial +of Moses_ is based, is given in the thirty-fourth chapter of +_Deuteronomy_, and reads as follows: + +And Moses went up from the plains of Moab unto the mountain of Nebo, +to the top of Pisgah, that is over against Jericho. + +And the Lord shewed him all the land of Gilead, unto Dan. + +And all Napthtali, and the land of Ephraim, and Manasseh, and all the +land of Judah, unto the utmost sea. + +And the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm +trees, unto Zoar. + +And the Lord said unto him, This is the land which I sware unto +Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying, I will give it unto thy +seed: I have caused thee to see it with thine eyes, but thou shalt +not go over thither. + +So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, +according to the word of the Lord. + +And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth- +peor: but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day. + + + By Nebo's lonely mountain, + On this side Jordan's wave, + In a vale in the land of Moab + There lies a lonely grave. + And no man knows that sepulchre, + And no man saw it e'er, + For the angels of God upturned the sod, + And laid the dead man there. + + That was the grandest funeral + That ever passed on earth; + But no man heard the trampling, + Or saw the train go forth-- + Noiselessly as the daylight + Comes back when night is done, + And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek + Grows into the great sun. + + Noiselessly as the springtime + Her crown of verdure weaves, + And all the trees on all the hills + Open their thousand leaves; + So without sound of music, + Or voice of them that wept, + Silently down from the mountain's crown + The great procession swept. + + Perchance the bald old eagle, + On gray Beth-peor's height, + Out of his lonely eyrie + Looked on the wondrous sight; + Perchance the lion stalking, + Still shuns that hallowed spot, + For beast and bird have seen and heard + That which man knoweth not. + + But when the warrior dieth, + His comrades in the war, + With arms reversed and muffled drums, + Follow his funeral car; + They show the banners taken, + They tell his battles won, + And after him lead his masterless steed, + While peals the minute gun. + + Amid the noblest of the land + We lay the sage to rest, + And give the bard an honored place + With costly marble drest, + In the great minster transept, + Where lights like glories fall, + And the organ rings, and the sweet choir sings, + Along the emblazoned wall. + + This was the truest warrior + That ever buckled sword; + This the most gifted poet + That ever breathed a word. + And never earth's philosopher + Traced with his golden pen + On the deathless page truths half so sage + As he wrote down for men. + + And had he not high honor?-- + The hillside for a pall, + To lie in state, while angels wait, + With stars for tapers tall; + And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, + Over his bier to wave, + And God's own hand in that lonely land + To lay him in the grave,-- + + In that strange grave without a name, + Whence his uncoffined clay + Shall break again, O wondrous thought! + Before the judgment day, + And stand with glory wrapt around + On the hills he never trod; + And speak of the strife, that won our life, + With the incarnate son of God. + + O lonely grave in Moab's land! + O dark Beth-peor's hill! + Speak to these curious hearts of ours, + And teach them to be still. + God hath his mysteries of grace, + Ways that we cannot tell; + He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep + Of him He loved so well. + + + + +BERNARDO DEL CARPIO + +_By_ FELICIA HEMANS + +NOTE.--Bernardo del Carpio, a Spanish warrior and grandee, having made +many ineffectual attempts to procure the release of his father, the +Count Saldana, declared war against King Alphonso of Asturias. At the +close of the struggle, the king agreed to terms by which he rendered up +his prisoner to Bernardo, in exchange for the castle of Carpio and the +captives confined therein. When the warrior pressed forward to greet +his father, whom he had not seen for many years, he found a corpse on +horseback. + + + The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, + And sued the haughty king to free his long imprisoned sire: + "I bring thee here my fortress keys, I bring my captive train, + I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord! O, break my father's chain!" + + "Rise! Rise! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day! + Mount thy good horse: and thou and I will meet him on his way." + Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, + And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed. + + And, lo, from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band, + With one that midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land: + "Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth, is he, + The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see." + + His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue + came and went; + He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, + dismounting, bent; + A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took,-- + What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook? + + That hand was cold,--a frozen thing,--it dropped from his like lead; + He looked up to the face above,--the face was of the dead! + A plume waved o'er the noble brow,--the brow was fixed and white; + He met, at last, his father's eyes,--but in them was no sight! + + Up from the ground he sprang and gazed; but who could paint that + gaze? + They hushed their very hearts that saw its horror and amaze: + They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood; + For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood. + + "Father!" at length, he murmured low, and wept like childhood then: + Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men! + He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown; + He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. + + Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,-- + "No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for now; + My king is false,--my hope betrayed! My father,--O the worth, + The glory, and the loveliness are passed away from earth! + + "I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet; + I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met! + Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then; for thee my fields were won; + And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!" + + Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's + rein, + Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train; + And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led, + And sternly set them face to face,--the king before the dead: + + "Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss? + Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me what is this? + The voice, the glance, the heart I sought,--give answer, where + are they? + If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this + cold clay; + + "Into these glassy eyes put light;--be still! keep down thine ire! + Bid these white lips a blessing speak,--this earth is not my sire: + Give me back him for whom I strove,--for whom my blood was shed. + Thou canst not?--and a king!--his dust be mountains on thy head!" + + He loosed the steed,--his slack hand fell; upon the silent face + He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad + place. + His hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain: + His banner led the spears no more amidst the hills of Spain. + + + + +DAVID + +INTRODUCTION + + +You will never meet a more interesting character in history than David, +the great king of the Israelites, who, it is usually claimed, reigned +from about 1055 B.C. to 1015 B.C. Under David the Jews reached the +height of their power, and he is regarded as their greatest conqueror. + +A full biography would be an account of a succession of battles with +his enemies the Philistines in which he was always victorious unless, +as a punishment for some of the sins his fiery nature led him into, he +was temporarily in defeat. Out of the many instances which the Bible +gives, we have selected as the most vivid and interesting the accounts +of his victory over Goliath, his relations to Saul and Jonathan and the +rebellion of his own son Absalom. The story is told as it appears in +Hebrew scriptures and is taken from the first and second books of +Samuel, but in order to make the story continuous the arrangement of +the verses has been changed somewhat. For greater clearness, the scheme +of paragraphing has been changed, quotation marks have been used, and +other departures made from the old form of printing in bibles. + +The interesting story is told with all the vivid directness of the +Jewish scriptures, and every one must admire the poetic beauty so +characteristic of oriental writings. David's compact with Jonathan, his +sad lament over the death of his traitorous son, and the grand anthem +which he sings in gratitude for his victories, show that the great king +was more than a warrior and ruler. + +In truth, David was as much a poet and musician as he was a warrior and +king, for not only did he, by his skill on the harp, quiet the raging +fury of Saul's anger, but he wrote, also, the grandest psalms in +existence. The _Twenty-third Psalm_ and the _One Hundred Third Psalm_ +which, among others, are printed elsewhere in this work, are fine +examples of his skill and art. + + +DAVID AND GOLIATH + +Now the Philistines gathered together their armies to battle against +Israel. And Saul and the men or Israel were gathered together and set +the battle in array against the Philistines. + +And the Philistines stood on a mountain on the one side, and Israel +stood on a mountain on the other side: and there was a valley between +them. + +And there went out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named +Goliath, of Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span. And the staff +of his spear was like a weaver's beam; and his spear's head weighed six +hundred shekels of iron: and one bearing a shield went before him. + +And he stood and cried unto the armies of Israel, and said unto them, +"Why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am I not a Philistine +and ye servants to Saul? Choose you a man for you and let him come down +to me. If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be +your servants: but if I prevail against him, and kill him, then shall +ye be our servants, and serve us. I defy the armies of Israel this day; +give me a man, that we may fight together." + +When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, they were +dismayed, and greatly afraid. + +Now there was a man whose name was Jesse, and he had eight sons, and +the three eldest followed Saul to the battle. And David, his youngest +son, fed his father's sheep at Bethlehem. + +And the Philistine drew near, morning and evening, and presented +himself forty days. + +And Jesse said unto David, his son, "Take now to thy brethren an ephah +of this parched corn, and these ten loaves, and run to the camp to thy +brethren; and carry these ten cheeses unto the captain and their +thousand, and look how thy brethren fare, and take their pledge." + +And David rose up early in the morning, and left his sheep with a +keeper, and took, and went, as Jesse had commanded him; and he came to +the trench, as the host was going forth to the fight, and shouted for +the battle, for Israel and the Philistines had put the battle in array, +army against army. + +And David left his carriage in the hand of the keeper of the carriage, +and ran into the army, and came and saluted his brethren. + +And as he talked with them, behold, there came up the champion, the +Philistine of Gath, Goliath by name, out of the armies of the +Philistines, and spake according to the same words: and David heard +them. + +And all the men of Israel, when they saw the man, fled from him, and +were sore afraid. And then the men of Israel said, "Have ye seen this +man that is come up?" + +Aid David spake to the men that stood by him saying, "What shall be +done to the man that killeth this Philistine and taketh away the +reproach from Israel? Who is this Philistine that he should defy the +armies of the living God?" + +And the people answered him after this manner, saying, "The man who +killeth him, the king will enrich him with great riches, and will give +him his daughter, and make his father's house free in Israel." + +And David's eldest brother heard when he spake unto the men, and his +anger was kindled against David and he said, "Why comest thou down +hither, and with whom hast thou left those few sheep in the wilderness? +I know thy pride and the naughtiness of thine heart, for thou art come +down that thou mightest see the battle." + +And David said, "What have I now done? Is there not a cause?" + +And he turned from him toward another, and spake after the same manner: +and the people answered again after the former manner. + +And when the words were heard that David spake, some one rehearsed them +before Saul, and he sent for David. + +And David said to Saul, "Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy +servant will go and fight with this Philistine." + +And Saul said to David, "Thou art not able to go against this +Philistine to fight with him: for thou art but a youth, and he a man of +war from his youth." + +And David said unto Saul, "Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and +there came a lion, and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock. And I +went out after him, and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth: +and when he arose against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote him, +and slew him. Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear: and this +Philistine shall be as one of them, seeing he hath defied the armies of +the living God. + +"The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the lion, and out of the +paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of this +Philistine." + +And Saul said unto David, "Go, and the Lord be with thee." + +And Saul armed David with his armour, and he put an helmet of brass +upon his head; also he armed him with a coat of mail. And David girded +his sword upon his armour, and he essayed to go. But David said unto +Saul, "I cannot go with these; for I have not proved them." + +And David put them off him; and he took his staff in his hand, and +chose him five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a +shepherd's bag which he had, even in a scrip; and his sling was in his +hand: and he drew near to the Philistine. + +And the Philistine came on and drew near unto David; and the man that +bare the shield went before him. And when the Philistine looked about, +and saw David, he disdained him: for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and +of a fair countenance. + +[Illustration: DAVID MEETS GOLIATH] + +And the Philistine said unto David, "Am I a dog, that thou comest to me +with staves?" And he cursed David by his gods, and said, "Come to me +and I will give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts +of the field." + +Then said David to the Philistine, "Thou comest to me with a sword, and +with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the +Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied. +This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand; and I will smite +thee, and take thine head from thee; and I will give the carcases of +the host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to +the wild beasts of the earth; that all the earth may know that there is +a God in Israel. And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saveth +not with sword and spear: for the battle is the Lord's, and he will +give you into our hands." + +And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came and drew nigh +to meet David, that David hasted, and ran toward the army to meet the +Philistine. And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone, +and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone +sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth. + +So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, +and smote the Philistine, and slew him; but there was no sword in the +hand of David. Therefore David ran, and stood upon the Philistine, and +took his sword, and drew it out of the sheath thereof, and slew him, +and cut off his head therewith. And when the Philistines saw their +champion was dead, they fled. + +And the men of Israel and Judah arose, and shouted, and pursued the +Philistines; and the wounded of the Philistines fell down by the way +even unto Gath, and unto Ekron. And the children of Israel returned +from chasing after the Philistines, and they spoiled their tents. + +And David took the head of the Philistine and brought it to Jerusalem, +but he put his armour in his tent. + +Now when Saul saw David go forth against the Philistine, he said unto +Abner, the captain of the host, "Abner, whose son is this youth?" + +And Abner answered, "As thy soul liveth, O king, I cannot tell." + +And the king said, "Inquire thou whose son the stripling is." + +And as David returned from the slaughter of the Philistine, Abner took +him, and brought him before Saul with the head of the Philistine in his +hand. + +And Saul said to him, "Whose son art thou, thou young man?" + +And David answered, "I am the son of thy servant Jesse the +Bethlehemite." + +And Saul took him that day and would let him go no more to his father's +house. And David went out whithersoever Saul sent him and behaved +himself wisely. And Saul set him over the men of war, and he was +accepted in the sight of all the people, and also in the sight of +Saul's servants. + + +DAVID AND SAUL AND JONATHAN + +Now Saul, king of Israel, had a son Jonathan whom he dearly loved, a +brave warrior and a noble man. + +When David, returning from his victory over Goliath, told the story of +his fight, Jonathan stood by, a listener. + +And when David had made an end of speaking, the soul of Jonathan was +knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. + +And it came to pass, when David was returned from the slaughter of the +Philistine, that the women came out of all the cities of Israel, +singing and dancing, to meet king Saul, with tabrets, with joy, and +with instruments of music. + +And the women answered one another as they played, and said, "Saul hath +slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands." + +And Saul was very wroth, and the saying displeased him; and he said, +"They have ascribed unto David ten thousands, and to me they have +ascribed but thousands: and what can he have more but the kingdom?" + +And Saul eyed David from that day and forward. + +And Saul was afraid of David, because the Lord was with him, and was +departed from Saul. Therefore Saul removed him from him, and made him +his captain over a thousand; and he went out and came in before the +people. + +And David behaved himself wisely in all his ways; and the Lord was with +him. Wherefore when Saul saw that he behaved himself very wisely, he +was afraid of him. But all Israel and Judah loved David, because he +went out and came in before them. + +And Michal, Saul's daughter, loved David: and they told Saul, and the +thing pleased him. + +Saul said, "I will give him her that she may be a snare to him and that +the hand of the Philistines may be against him." Wherefore Saul said to +David, "Thou shalt this day be my son-in-law." + +And David said unto Saul, "Who am I? and what is my life, or my +father's family in Israel, that I should be son-in-law to the king?" + +And Saul commanded his servants, saying, "Commune with David secretly, +and say, 'Behold the king hath delight in thee, and all his servants +love thee; now, therefore, be the king's son-in-law.'" + +Saul's servants spake those words in the ears of David. + +[Illustration: SAUL SOUGHT TO SMITE DAVID] + +And David said, "Seemeth it to you a light thing to be the king's son- +in-law, seeing that I am a poor man and lightly esteemed?" + +And the servants of Saul told him what David had said, saying, "On this +manner spake David." + +And Saul said, "Thus shall ye say to David, 'The king desireth no dowry +but the slaughter of an hundred Philistines, to be avenged upon the +king's enemies.'" + +But Saul thought to make David fall by the hands of the Philistines. +And when the servants told David these words it pleased David well to +be the king's son-in-law. Wherefore David arose and went, he and his +men, and slew of the Philistines two hundred men. + +And David came and told Saul, and Saul gave him his daughter Michal to +wife. + +And Saul saw and knew that the Lord was with David, and that Michal, +Saul's daughter, loved him. + +And Saul was yet the more afraid of David; and Saul became David's +enemy continually. + +Then the princes of the Philistines went forth: and it came to pass, +after they went forth, that David behaved himself more wisely than all +the servants of Saul; so that his name was much set by. + +And Saul spake to Jonathan his son, and to all his servants, that they +should kill David. + +But Jonathan, Saul's son, delighted much in David: and Jonathan told +David, saying, "Saul my father seeketh to kill thee; now therefore, I +pray thee, take heed to thyself until the morning, and abide in a +secret place, and hide thyself. And I will go out and stand beside my +father in the field where thou art, and I will commune with my father +of thee; and what I see I will tell thee." + +And Jonathan spake good of David unto Saul his father, and said unto +him, "Let not the king sin against his servant, against David; because +he hath not sinned against thee, and because his works have been to +thee-ward very good. For he did put his life in his hand, and slew the +Philistine, and the Lord wrought a great salvation for all Israel: thou +sawest it, and didst rejoice: wherefore then wilt thou sin against +innocent blood, to slay David without a cause?" + +And Saul hearkened unto the voice of Jonathan: and Saul sware, "As the +Lord liveth, he shall not be slain." + +And Jonathan called David, and Jonathan shewed him all those things. +And Jonathan brought David to Saul, and he was in his presence, as in +times past. + +And there was war again: and David went out and fought with the +Philistines, and slew them with a great slaughter; and they fled from +him. + +And the evil spirit from the Lord was upon Saul, as he sat in his house +with his javelin in his hand; and David played with his hand. + +And Saul sought to smite David even to the wall with the javelin; but +he slipped away out of Saul's presence, and he smote the javelin into +the wall: and David fled, and escaped that night. + +Saul also sent messengers, unto David's house, to watch him, and to +slay him in the morning: and Michal, David's wife, told him, saying, +"If thou save not thy life to-night, to-morrow thou shalt be slain." + +So Michal let David down through a window: and he went, and fled, and +escaped. + +And Michal took an image, and laid it in the bed, and put a pillow of +goat's hair for his bolster, and covered it with a cloth. + +And when Saul sent messengers to take David, he said, "He is sick." + +And Saul sent the messengers again to see David, saying, "Bring him up +to me in the bed, that I may slay him." + +And when the messengers were come in, behold, there was an image in the +bed, with a pillow of goat's hair for his bolster. + +And Saul said unto Michal, "Why hast thou deceived me so, and sent away +mine enemy, that he is escaped?" And Michal answered Saul, "He said +unto me, 'Let me go; why should I kill thee?'" + +So David fled and escaped and went and dwelt with Naioth, whither +Saul's messengers came to slay him. + +And David fled from Naioth in Ramah, and came and said before Jonathan, +"What have I done? What is my iniquity? and what is my sin before thy +father, that he seeketh my life?" + +And he said unto him, "God forbid; thou shalt not die: behold, my +father will do nothing either great or small, but that he will shew it +me: and why should my father hide this thing from me? it is not so." + +And David sware moreover, and said, "Thy father certainly knoweth that +I have found grace in thine eyes; and he saith, 'Let not Jonathan know +this, lest he be grieved:' but truly as the Lord liveth, and as thy +soul liveth, there is but a step between me and death." + +Then said Jonathan unto David, "Whatsoever thy soul desireth, I will +even do it for thee." + +And David said unto Jonathan, "Behold, tomorrow is the new moon, and I +should not fail to sit with the king at meat: but let me go, that I may +hide myself in the field unto the third day at even. + +"If thy father at all miss me, then say, 'David earnestly asked leave +of me that he might run to Bethlehem his city: for there is a yearly +sacrifice there for all the family.' + +"If he say thus, 'It is well;' thy servant shall have peace: and if he +be very wroth, then be sure that evil is determined by him. + +"Therefore, thou shalt deal kindly with thy servant; for thou hast +brought thy servant into a covenant of the Lord with thee: +notwithstanding, if there be in me iniquity, slay me thyself; for why +shouldest thou bring me to thy father?" + +And Jonathan said, "Far be it from thee: for if I knew certainly that +evil were determined by my father to come upon thee, then would I not +tell it thee?" + +Then said David to Jonathan, "Who shall tell me? or what if thy father +answer thee roughly?" + +And Jonathan said unto David, "Come, and let us go out into the field." +And they went out both of them into the field. + +And Jonathan said unto David, "O Lord God of Israel, when I have +sounded my father about tomorrow any time, or the third day, and, +behold, if there be good toward David, and I then send not unto thee, +and shew it thee; the Lord do so and much more to Jonathan: but if it +please my father to do thee evil, then I will shew it thee, and send +thee away, that thou mayest go in peace: and the Lord be with thee, as +he hath been with my father. + +"And thou shalt not only while yet I live shew me the kindness of the +Lord, that I die not; but also thou shalt not cut off thy kindness from +my house for ever: no, not when the Lord hath cut off the enemies of +David every one from the face of the earth." + +So Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying, "Let the +Lord even require it at the hand of David's enemies." And Jonathan +caused David to swear again, because he loved him: for he loved him as +he loved his own soul. + +Then Jonathan said to David, "To-morrow is the new moon: and thou shalt +be missed, because thy seat will be empty. And when thou hast stayed +three days, then thou shalt go down quickly, and come to the place +where thou didst hide thyself when the business was in hand, and shalt +remain by the stone Ezel. And I will shoot three arrows on the side +thereof, as though I shot at a mark. + +"And, behold, I will send a lad, saying, 'Go, find out the arrows.' If +I expressly say unto the lad, 'Behold, the arrows are on this side of +thee; take them;' then come thou: for there is peace to thee, and no +hurt; as the Lord liveth. + +"But if I say thus unto the young man, 'Behold, the arrows are beyond +thee,' go thy way: for the Lord hath sent thee away. + +"And as for this matter which thou and I have spoken of, behold, the +Lord be between thee and me for ever." + +So David hid himself in the field: and when the new moon was come, the +king sat him down to eat meat. And the king sat upon his seat, as at +other times, even upon a seat by the wall: and Jonathan arose, and +Abner sat by Saul's side, and David's place was empty. + +Nevertheless Saul spake not anything that day: for he thought, +"Something hath befallen him, he is not clean; surely he is not clean." + +And it came to pass on the morrow, which was the second day of the +month, that David's place was empty: and Saul said unto Jonathan his +son, "Wherefore cometh not the son of Jesse to meat, neither yesterday, +nor to-day?" + +And Jonathan answered Saul, "David earnestly asked leave of me to go to +Bethlehem: and he said, 'Let me go, I pray thee; for our family hath a +sacrifice in the city; and my brother, he hath commanded me to be +there: and now, if I have found favour in thine eyes, let me get away, +I pray thee, and see my brethren.' Therefore he cometh not unto the +king's table." + +Then Saul's anger was kindled against Jonathan, and he said unto him, +"Thou son of the perverse rebellious woman, do not I know that thou +hast chosen the son of Jesse to thine own confusion? For as long as the +son of Jesse liveth upon the ground thou shalt not be established, nor +thy kingdom. Wherefore now send and fetch him unto me, for he shall +surely die." + +And Jonathan answered Saul his father, and said unto him, "Wherefore +shall he be slain? what hath he done?" + +And Saul cast a javelin at him to smite him: whereby Jonathan knew that +it was determined of his father to slay David. So Jonathan arose from +the table in fierce anger, and did eat no meat the second day of the +month: for he was grieved for David, because his father had done him +shame. + +And it came to pass in the morning that Jonathan went out into the +field at the time appointed with David, and a little lad with him. And +he said unto his lad, "Run, find out now the arrows which I shoot." And +as the lad ran, he shot an arrow beyond him. And when the lad was come +to the place of the arrow which Jonathan had shot, Jonathan cried after +the lad, and said, "Is not the arrow beyond thee?" + +[Illustration: JONATHAN SHOOTS THE ARROWS] + +And Jonathan cried after the lad, "Make speed, haste, stay not." And +Jonathan's lad gathered up the arrows, and came to his master. But the +lad knew not any thing: only Jonathan and David knew the matter. + +And Jonathan gave his artillery unto his lad, and said unto him, "Go, +carry them to the city." + +And as soon as the lad was gone, David arose out of a place toward the +south, and fell on his face to the ground, and bowed himself three +times: and they kissed one another, and wept one with another, until +David exceeded. + +And Jonathan said to David, "Go in peace, forasmuch as we have sworn +both of us in the name of the Lord, saying, 'The Lord be between me and +thee, and between my seed and thy seed for ever.'" + +And he arose and departed: and Jonathan went into the city. + +And David abode in the wilderness in strong holds, and remained in a +mountain in the wilderness of Ziph. And Saul sought him every day, but +God delivered him not into his hand. + +And David saw that Saul was come out to seek his life: and David was in +the wilderness of Ziph in a wood. + +And Jonathan, Saul's son, arose, and went to David into the wood, and +strengthened his hand in God. And he said unto him, "Fear not: for the +hand of Saul my father shall not find thee; and thou shalt be king over +Israel, and I shall be next unto thee; and that also Saul my father +knoweth." + +And they two made a covenant before the Lord: and David abode in the +wood, and Jonathan went to his house. + +Then Saul took three thousand chosen men out of Israel, and went to +seek David and his men upon the rocks of the wild goats. And he came to +the sheepcotes by the way, where was a cave; and Saul went in to cover +his feet: and David and his men were hidden in the sides of the cave. + +And the men of David said unto him, "Behold the day of which the Lord +said unto thee, 'Behold, I will deliver thine enemy into thine hand, +that thou mayest do to him as it shall seem good unto thee.'" Then +David arose, and cut off the skirt of Saul's robe privily. + +And it came to pass afterward, that David's heart smote him, because he +had cut off Saul's skirt. And he said unto his men, "The Lord forbid +that I should do this thing unto my master, the Lord's anointed, * +stretch forth mine hand against him, seeing he is the anointed of the +Lord." + +So David stayed his servants with these words, and suffered them not to +rise against Saul. But Saul rose up out of the cave, and went on his +way. + +David also arose afterward, and went out of the cave, and cried after +Saul, saying, "My lord the king." + +And when Saul looked behind him, David stooped with his face to the +earth, and bowed himself; and said, "Wherefore hearest thou men's +words, saying, 'Behold, David seeketh thy hurt?' + +"Behold, this day thine eyes have seen how that the Lord had delivered +thee into mine hand in the cave: and some bade me kill thee: but mine +eye spared thee; and I said, 'I will not put forth mine hand against my +lord; for he is the Lord's anointed.' + +"Moreover, my father, see, yea, see the skirt of thy robe in my hand: +for in that I cut off the skirt of thy robe, and killed thee not, know +thou and see that there is neither evil nor transgression in mine hand, +and I have not sinned against thee; yet thou huntest my soul to take +it. + +"The Lord judge between me and thee, and the Lord avenge me of thee: +but mine hand shall not be upon thee. As saith the proverb of the +ancients, 'Wickedness proceedeth from the wicked: but mine hand shall +not be upon thee.' + +"After whom is the king of Israel come out? after whom dost thou +pursue? after a dead dog, after a flea. + +"The Lord therefore be judge, and judge between me and thee, and see, +and plead my cause, and deliver me out of thine hand." + + And it came to pass, when David had made an end of speaking these +words unto Saul, that Saul said, "Is this thy voice, my son David?" And +Saul lifted up his voice, and wept. And he said to David, "Thou art +more righteous than I: for thou hast rewarded me good, whereas I have +rewarded thee evil. + +"And thou hast shewed this day how that thou hast dealt well with me: +forasmuch as when the Lord had delivered me into thine hand, thou +killedst me not. + +"For if a man find his enemy, will he let him go well away? wherefore +the Lord reward thee good for that thou hast done unto me this day. + +"And now, behold, I know well that thou shalt surely be king, and that +the kingdom of Israel shall be established in thine hand. + +"Swear now therefore unto me by the Lord, that thou wilt not cut off my +seed after me, and that thou wilt not destroy my name out of my +father's house." + +And David sware unto Saul, and Saul went home. + +And it came to pass after many days that the Philistines gathered their +armies together for warfare to fight with Israel, and they pitched in +Shunem. + +[Illustration: DAVID AND JONATHAN] + +And Saul gathered all Israel together and they pitched in Gilboa. + +And when Saul saw the host of the Philistines, he was afraid, and his +heart greatly trembled. And when Saul enquired of the Lord, the Lord +answered him not, neither by dreams, nor by prophets. + +Now the Philistines fought against Israel and the men of Israel fled +from before the Philistines and fell down slain in mount Gilboa. And +the Philistines followed hard upon Saul and upon his sons, and they +slew Jonathan and two other sons of Saul. And the battle went sore +against Saul, and the archers hit him; and he was sore wounded of the +archers. + +Then said Saul unto his armour-bearer, "Draw thy sword, and thrust me +through therewith; lest these Philistines come and thrust me through, +and abuse me." + +But his armour-bearer would not; for he was sore afraid. Therefore Saul +took a sword, and fell upon it. + +And when his armour-bearer saw that Saul was dead, he fell likewise +upon his sword, and died with him. So Saul died, and his three sons, +and his armour-bearer, and all his men, that same day together. + +And it came to pass on the morrow, when the Philistines came to strip +the slain, that they found Saul and his three sons fallen in mount +Gilboa. + +And they cut off his head, and stripped off his armour, and sent into +the land of the Philistines round about, to publish it in the house of +their idols, and among the people. + +Now it came to pass on the third day after the death of Saul that, +behold, a man came out of the camp from Saul with his clothes rent, and +earth upon his head: and he came before David and fell to the earth and +did obeisance. + +And David said unto him, "From whence comest thou?" + +And he said unto him, "Out of the camp of Israel am I escaped." + +And David said unto him, "How went the matter? I pray thee, tell me." + +And he answered, "The people are fled from the battle, and many of the +people also are fallen and dead; and Saul and Jonathan his son are dead +also." + +And David said unto the young man that told him, "How knowest thou that +Saul and Jonathan his son be dead?" + +And the young man that told him said, "As I happened by chance upon +mount Gilboa, behold, Saul leaned upon his spear; and, lo, the chariots +and horsemen followed hard after him. And when he looked behind him, he +saw me, and called unto me. And I answered, 'Here am I.' + +"And he said unto me, 'Who art thou?' + +"And I answered him, 'I am an Amalekite.' + +"He said unto me again, 'Stand, I pray thee, upon me, and slay me: for +anguish is come upon me, because my life is yet whole in me.' + +"So I stood upon him, and slew him, because I was sure that he could +not live after that he was fallen: and I took the crown that was upon +his head, and the bracelet that was on his arm, and have brought them +hither unto my lord." + +Then David took hold on his clothes, and rent them; and likewise all +the men that were with him: and they mourned and wept, and fasted until +even, for Saul, and for Jonathan his son, and for the people of the +Lord, and for the house of Israel; because they were fallen by the +sword. + + +And David said unto the young man that told him, "Whence art thou?" + +And he answered, "I am the son of a stranger, an Amalekite." + +And David said unto him, "How wast thou not afraid to stretch forth +thine hand to destroy the Lord's anointed?" + +And David called one of the young men and said, "Go near, and fall upon +him." And he smote him that he died. + +And David said unto him, "Thy blood be upon thy head; for thy mouth +hath testified against thee saying, 'I have slain the Lord's anointed.'" + +And David lamented with this lamentation over Saul and over Jonathan +his son: + +"The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places: how are the mighty +fallen! + +"Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be +rain, upon you, nor fields of offerings: for there the shield of the +mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not +been anointed with oil. + +"From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of +Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul returned not empty. + +"Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in +their death they were not divided: they were swifter than eagles, they +were stronger than lions. + +"Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you in scarlet, +with other delights, who put on ornaments of gold upon your apparel. + +"How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou +wast slain in thine high places. + +"I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou +been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. + +"How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!" + + +DAVID THE KING + +I + +Then came all the tribes of Israel to David unto Hebron and spake, +saying, "Behold, we are thy bone and thy flesh. Also in time past, when +Saul was king over us, thou wast he that leddest out and broughtest in +Israel: and the Lord said to thee, 'Thou shalt feed my people Israel, +and thou shalt be a captain over Israel.'" + +So all the elders of Israel came to the king to Hebron; and king David +made a league with them in Hebron before the Lord: and they anointed +David king over Israel. + +David was thirty years old when he began to reign and he reigned over +Israel and Judah thirty and three years, and he had already reigned +over Judah seven years and six months. + +But when the Philistines heard that they bad anointed David king over +Israel, all the Philistines came up to seek David; and David heard of +it, and went down to the hold. + +The Philistines also came and spread themselves in the valley of +Rephaim. + +And David enquired of the Lord, saying, "Shall I go up to the +Philistines? wilt thou deliver them into mine hand?" And the Lord said +unto David, "Go up: for I will doubtless deliver the Philistines into +thine hand." + +And David smote the Philistines and said, "The Lord hath broken forth +upon mine enemies, as the breach of waters." + +And there the Philistines left their images and David and his men +burned them. + +And the Philistines came up yet again, and spread themselves in the +valley of Rephaim. + +And when David enquired of the Lord, he said, "Thou shalt not go up; +but fetch a compass behind them, and come upon them over against the +mulberry trees. And let it be, when thou hearest the sound of a going +in the tops of the mulberry trees, that then thou shalt bestir thyself; +for then shall the Lord go out before thee, to smite the host of the +Philistines." + +And David did so, as the Lord had commanded him; and smote the +Philistines from Geba until they came to Gazer. + +After David had conquered the Philistines he called unto him a servant +of the house of Saul whose name was Ziba, and said, "Is there not yet +any of the house of Saul, that I may shew the kindness of God unto +him?" + +And Ziba said unto the king, "Jonathan hath yet a son who is lame on +his feet." + +The king said unto him, "Where is he?". + +And Ziba said unto the king, "Behold he is in the house of Machir." + +Now the name of this son of Jonathan was Mephibosheth, and when he was +come unto David he fell on his face, and did reverence. + +And David said, "Mephibosheth!" + +And he answered, "Behold thy servant." + +And David said unto him, "Fear not: for I will surely shew thee +kindness for Jonathan thy father's sake, and will restore thee all the +land of Saul thy father; and thou shalt eat bread at my table +continually." + +And he bowed himself, and said, "What is thy servant, that thou +shouldest look upon such a dead dog as I am?" + +Then the king called to Ziba, Saul's servant, and said unto him, "I +have given unto thy master's son all that pertained to Saul and to all +his house. Thou therefore, and thy sons, and thy servants, shall till +the land for him, and thou shalt bring in the fruits, that thy master's +son may have food to eat: but Mephibosheth thy master's son shall eat +bread alway at my table." + +Now Ziba had fifteen sons and twenty servants. Then said Ziba unto the +king, "According to all that my lord the king hath commanded his +servant, so shall thy servant do." + +"As for Mephibosheth," said the king, "he shall eat at my table, as one +of the king's sons." + +And Mephibosheth had a young son, whose name was Micha. + +And all that dwelt in the house of Ziba were servants unto +Mephibosheth. + +So Mephibosheth dwelt in Jerusalem: for he did eat continually at the +king's table; and was lame on both his feet. + + +II + +Now Absalom, the favorite son of David, was wroth at his brother Amnon +who had dealt wickedly with his sister. And at a sheep-shearing where +Absalom had invited Amnon and all his other brothers, Absalom had +commanded his servants, saying, "Mark ye now when Amnon's heart is +merry with wine, and when I say unto you, 'Smite Amnon;' then kill him; +fear not: have not I commanded you? Be courageous, and be valiant." + +And the servants of Absalom did unto Amnon as Absalom had commanded, +and David mourned for his son every day. + +So Absalom fled and went to Geshur and was there three years. And the +soul of David longed to go forth unto Absalom, for he loved him dearly. +And the king sent for Joab, who had counselled the king to forgive, and +said unto him, "Go ye and bring the young man Absalom again to me." + +So Joab arose and went to Geshur, and brought Absalom to Jerusalem. + +And the king said, "Let him turn to his own house, and let him not see +my face." + +So Absalom returned to his own house, and saw not the king's face. + +But in all Israel there was none to be so much praised as Absalom for +his beauty: from the sole of his feet even to the crown of his head +there was no blemish in him. And when he polled his head, he weighed +the hair of his head at two hundred shekels after the king's weight. + +So Absalom dwelt two full years in Jerusalem, and saw not the king's +face. Therefore Absalom sent for Joab, to have sent him to the king; +but he would not come to him: and when he sent for him again the second +time, he would not come. + +Therefore he said unto his servants, "See, Joab's field is near mine, +and he hath barley there; go and set it on fire." And Absalom's +servants set the field on fire. + +Then Joab arose, and came to Absalom unto his house, and said unto him, +"Wherefore have thy servants set my field on fire?" + +And Absalom answered Joab, "Behold, I sent unto thee, bidding thee come +hither, that I might send thee to the king, to say, 'Wherefore am I +come from Geshur? it had been good for me to have been there still: now +therefore let me see the king's face: and if there be any iniquity in +me, let him kill me.'" + +So Joab came to the king, and told him: and when he called for Absalom, +he came to the king, and bowed himself on his face to the ground before +the king: and the king kissed Absalom. + +And it came to pass after this, that Absalom prepared him chariots and +horses, and fifty men to run before him. + + And Absalom rose up early, and stood beside the way of the gate: and +it was so, that when any man that had a controversy came to the king +for judgment, then Absalom called unto him, and said, "Of what city art +thou?" And he said, "Thy servant is of one of the tribes of Israel." + +And Absalom said unto him, "See, thy matters are good and right; but +there is no man deputed of the king to hear thee." + +[Illustration: THE MAN RUNNETH ALONE] + +Absalom said moreover, "Oh that I were made judge of the land, that +every man which hath any suit or cause might come unto me, and I would +do him justice." + +And it was so, that when any man came nigh to him to do him obeisance, +he put forth his hand, and took him, and kissed him. + +And on this manner did Absalom to all Israel that came to the king for +judgment: so Absalom stole the hearts of the men of Israel. + +And there came a messenger to David, saying, "The hearts of the men of +Israel are after Absalom." + +And David said unto all his servants that were with him at Jerusalem, +"Arise, and let us flee; for we shall not else escape from Absalom: +make speed to depart, lest he overtake us suddenly, and bring evil upon +us, and smite the city with the edge of the sword." + +And the king went forth, and all the people after him, and tarried in a +place that was far off. + +And David went up by the ascent of mount Olivet, and wept as he went +up, and had his head covered, and he went barefoot. + +And all the people that was with him covered every man his head, and +they went up, weeping as they went up. + +Then David arose, and all the people that were with him, and they +passed over Jordan: by the morning light there lacked not one of them +that was not gone over Jordan. + +Then David came to Mahanaim. And Absalom passed over Jordan, he and all +the men of Israel with him. So Israel and Absalom pitched their tents +in the land of Gilead. + +And it came to pass, when David had come unto Mahanaim that the people +brought beds, and basins, and earthen vessels, and wheat, and barley, +and flour, and parched corn, and beans, and lentiles, and parched +pulse, and honey, and butter, and sheep, and cheese of kine, for David, +and for the people that were with him, to eat: for they said, "The +people are hungry, and weary, and thirsty, in the wilderness." + +And David numbered the people that were with him, and set captains of +thousands and captains of hundreds over them. + +And David sent forth a third part of the people under the hand of Joab, +and a third part under the hand of Abishai, and a third part under the +hand of Ittai. And the king said unto the people, "I will surely go +forth with you myself also." + +But the people answered, "Thou shalt not go forth: for if we flee away, +they will not care for us; neither if half of us die, will they care +for us: but now thou art worth ten thousand of us: therefore now it is +better that thou succour us out of the city." And the king said unto +them, "What seemeth you best I will do." And the king stood by the gate +side, and all the people came out by hundreds and by thousands. + +And the king commanded Joab and Abishai and Ittai, saying, "Deal gently +for my sake with the young man, even with Absalom." And all the people +heard when the king gave all the captains charge concerning Absalom. So +the people went out into the field against Israel; and the battle was +in the wood of Ephraim; where the people of Israel were slain before +the servants of David, and there was there a great slaughter that day +of twenty thousand men. For the battle was there scattered over the +face of all the country; and the wood devoured more people that day +than the sword devoured. + +And Absalom met the servants of David. And Absalom rode upon a mule, +and the mule went under the thick boughs of a great oak, and his head +caught hold of the oak, and he was taken up between the heaven and the +earth; and the mule that was under him went away. And a certain man saw +it, and told Joab, and said, "Behold, I saw Absalom hanged in an oak." + +And Joab said unto the man that told him, "And, behold, thou sawest +him, and why didst thou not smite him there to the ground? and I would +have given thee ten shekels of silver, and a girdle." + +And the man said unto Joab, "Though I should receive a thousand shekels +of silver in mine hand, yet would I not put forth mine hand against the +king's son: for in our hearing the king charged thee and Abishai and +Ittai, saying, 'Beware that none touch the young man Absalom.' + +"Otherwise I should have wrought falsehood against mine own life: for +there is no matter hid from the king, and thou thyself wouldest have +set thyself against me." + +Then said Joab, "I may not tarry thus with thee." And he took three +darts in his hand, and thrust them through the heart of Absalom, while +he was yet alive in the midst of the oak. + +And ten young men that bare Joab's armour compassed about and smote +Absalom, and slew him. + +And Joab blew the trumpet, and the people returned from pursuing after +Israel: for Joab held back the people. + +And they took Absalom, and cast him into a great pit in the wood, and +laid a very great heap of stones upon him: and all Israel fled every +one to his tent. + +And David sat between the two gates: and the watchman went up to the +roof over the gate unto the wall, and lifted up his eyes, and looked, +and beheld a man running alone. And the watchman cried, and told the +king. And the king said, "If he be alone, there is tidings in his +mouth." And he came apace, and drew near, and said, "Tidings, my lord +the king: for the Lord hath avenged thee this day of all them that rose +up against thee." + +[Illustration: IS THE YOUNG MAN, ABSALOM, SAFE?] + +And the king said unto Cushi, "Is the young man Absalom safe?" And +Cushi answered, "The enemies of my lord the king, and all that rise +against thee to do thee hurt, be as that young man is." + +And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, +and wept: and as he went, thus he said, "O my son Absalom, my son, my +son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!" + +And it was told Joab, "Behold the king weepeth and mourneth for +Absalom." And the victory that day was turned into mourning unto all +the people: for the people heard say that day how the king was grieved +for his son. And the people gat them by stealth that day into the city, +as people being ashamed steal away when they flee in battle. + +But the king covered his face, and the king cried with a loud voice, "O +my son Absalom, O Absalom, my son, my son!" + + * * * * * + +And David spake unto the Lord the words of this song in the day that +the Lord had delivered him out of the hand of all his enemies: + +"The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; the God of my +rock; in him will I trust: he is my shield and the horn of my +salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, my saviour; thou savest me +from violence. + +"I will call on the Lord, who is worthy to be praised: so shall I be +saved from mine enemies. + +"When the waves of death compassed me, the floods of ungodly men made +me afraid; the sorrows of hell compassed me about; the snares of death +prevented me; in my distress I called upon the Lord and cried to my +God: and he did hear my voice out of his temple, and my cry did enter +into his ears. + +"Then the earth shook and trembled; the foundations of heaven moved and +shook, because he was wroth. There went up a smoke out of his nostrils, +and fire out of his mouth devoured: coals were kindled by it. + +"He bowed the heavens also, and came down; and darkness was under his +feet. + +"And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly: and he was seen upon the wings +of the wind. + +"And he made darkness pavilions round about him, dark waters, and thick +clouds of the skies. + +"Through the brightness before him were coals of fire kindled. + +"The LORD thundered from heaven, and the most High uttered his voice. + +"And he sent out arrows, and scattered them; lightning, and discomfited +them. + +"And the channels of the sea appeared, the foundations of the world +were discovered, at the rebuking of the LORD, at the blast of the +breath of his nostrils. + +"He sent from above, he took me; he drew me out of many waters; he +delivered me from my strong enemy, and from them that hated me: for +they were too strong for me. + +"I was also upright before him, and have kept myself from mine +iniquity. + +"Therefore the LORD hath recompensed me according to my righteousness; +according to my cleanness in his eye sight. + +"With the merciful thou wilt shew thyself merciful, and with the +upright man thou wilt shew thyself upright. + +"With the pure thou wilt shew thyself pure; and with the forward thou +wilt shew thyself unsavoury. + +"And the afflicted people thou wilt save: but thine eyes are upon the +haughty, that thou mayest bring them down." + +Now the days of David drew nigh that he should die; and he charged +Solomon his son, saying: + +"I go the way of all the earth: be thou strong therefore, and shew +thyself a man; and keep the charge of the Lord thy God, to walk in his +ways, to keep his statutes, and his commandments, and his judgments, +and his testimonies, as it is written in the law of Moses, that thou +mayest prosper in all that thou doest, whithersoever thou turnest +thyself: that the Lord may continue his word which he spake concerning +me, saying, 'If thy children take heed to their way, to walk before me +in truth with all their heart and with all their soul, there shall not +fail thee a man on the throne of Israel.'" + +So David slept with his fathers and was buried in the city of David. + +Then sat Solomon upon the throne of David his father; and his kingdom +was established. + + * * * * * + +David was, as you have learned from the account of him you have just +been reading, a poet and a singer and one of his beautiful songs is to +be found near the close of this story of his life. We may imagine him +singing this, and accompanying himself on the harp; touching the +strings softly as he told that, "The sorrows of hell compassed me +about; the snares of death prevented me"; but striking out loud +sounding chords as he exultantly cried. "Then the earth shook and +trembled; the foundations of heaven moved and shook." + +Does it seem at all strange to you that we should call this poetry? It +has no rhyme, and it is not broken up, as are most poems, into lines of +nearly equal length; but a poem it is, nevertheless. Hebrew poetry was +quite different in some ways from modern poetry. It did not have +rhymes, though it did have about it a certain musical quality which +made it very suitable for chanting. Then, too, the words and the manner +of treating subjects were different from those employed in prose, just +as they are in our own poetry. + +David in this song is praising God for making him victorious over his +enemies. Let us look for a moment at the way in which he expresses +himself, and see whether we can find out just where the beauty of this +hymn of praise lies. In the first paragraph he applies to the Lord +various titles--"my rock," "my shield," "my high tower." He means to +say by this that God is strong enough to protect him and defend him, +but is not his way of saying it more forceful? + +A few lines down we have the words, "The waves of death compassed me." +Does this not give you a vivid idea of the helplessness of David and +his hopelessness? What he means is, "I was in constant danger of losing +my life," but he puts this fact into impressive words that leave a +distinct picture in our minds. + +Still further on we read, "There went up a smoke out of his nostrils, +and fire out of his mouth devoured." This strikes us as a very daring +way of describing God, but it is also a forceful way. We get just the +idea of the irresistibleness of God which David meant we should. + +These are but a few of the striking descriptions of which David makes +use in this song. You will find others in almost every paragraph. + + + + +CHEVY-CHASE + +_By_ RICHARD SHEALE + +NOTE.--It was said in the old legend that Percy, Earl of +Northumberland, declared that he would hunt for three days on Scottish +lands without asking leave from Earl Douglas, who either owned the soil +or had control of it under the king. This ballad dates back probably to +the time of James I, and is merely a modernized version of the old +stories. + + + God prosper long our noble king, + Our lives and safeties all; + A woful hunting once there did + In Chevy-Chase befall. + + To drive the deer with hound and horn + Earl Percy took his way; + The child may rue that is unborn + The hunting of that day. + + The stout Earl of Northumberland + A vow to God did make, + His pleasure in the Scottish woods + Three summer days to take,-- + + The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase + To kill and bear away. + These tidings to Earl Douglas came, + In Scotland where he lay; + + Who sent Earl Percy present word + He would prevent his sport. + The English earl, not fearing that, + Did to the woods resort, + + With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, + All chosen men of might, + Who knew full well in time of need + To aim their shafts aright. + + The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran + To chase the fallow deer; + On Monday they began to hunt + When daylight did appear; + + And long before high noon they had + A hundred fat bucks slain; + Then, having dined, the drovers went + To rouse the deer again. + + The bowmen mustered on the hills, + Well able to endure; + And all their rear, with special care, + That day was guarded sure. + + The hounds ran swiftly through the woods + The nimble deer to take, + That with their cries the hills and dales + An echo shrill did make. + + Lord Percy to the quarry went, + To view the slaughtered deer; + Quoth he, "Earl Douglas promisèd + This day to meet me here; + + "But if I thought he would not come, + No longer would I stay;" + With that a brave young gentleman + Thus to the earl did say:-- + + "Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come,-- + His men in armor bright; + Full twenty hundred Scottish spears + All marching in our sight; + + "All men of pleasant Teviotdale, + Fast by the river Tweed;" + "Then cease your sports," Earl Percy said, + "And take your bows with speed; + + "And now with me, my countrymen, + Your courage forth advance; + For never was there champion yet, + In Scotland or in France, + + "That ever did on horseback come, + But if my hap it were, + I durst encounter man for man, + With him to break a spear." + + Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed, + Most like a baron bold, + Rode foremost of his company, + Whose armor shone like gold. + + "Show me," said he, "whose men you be, + That hunt so boldly here, + That, without my consent, do chase + And kill my fallow deer." + + The first man that did answer make, + Was noble Percy he-- + Who said, "We list not to declare, + Nor show whose men we be: + + "Yet will we spend our dearest blood + Thy chiefest harts to slay." + Then Douglas swore a solemn oath, + And thus in rage did say: + + "Ere thus I will out-bravèd be, + One of us two shall die; + I know thee well, an earl thou art,-- + Lord Percy, so am I. + + "But trust me, Percy, pity it were, + And great offence, to kill + Any of these our guiltless men, + For they have done no ill. + + "Let you and me the battle try, + And set our men aside." + "Accursed be he," Earl Percy said, + "By whom this is denied." + + Then stepped a gallant squire forth, + Witherington was his name, + Who said, "I would not have it told + To Henry, our king, for shame, + + "That e'er my captain fought on foot, + And I stood looking on. + You two be earls," said Witherington, + "And I a squire alone; + + I'll do the best that do I may, + While I have power to stand; + While I have power to wield my sword + I'll fight with heart and hand." + + Our English archers bent their bows,-- + Their hearts were good and true; + At the first flight of arrows sent, + Full fourscore Scots they slew, + + Yet stays Earl Douglas on the bent, + As chieftain stout and good; + As valiant captain, all unmoved, + The shock he firmly stood. + + His host he parted had in three, + As leader ware and tried; + And soon his spearmen on their foes + Bore down on every side. + + Throughout the English archery + They dealt full many a wound; + But still our valiant Englishmen + All firmly kept their ground. + + And throwing straight their bows away, + They grasped their swords so bright; + And now sharp blows, a heavy shower, + On shields and helmets light. + + They closed full fast on every side,-- + No slackness there was found; + And many a gallant gentleman + Lay gasping on the ground. + + In truth, it was a grief to see + How each one chose his spear, + And how the blood out of their breasts + Did gush like water clear. + + At last these two stout earls did meet; + Like captains of great might, + Like lions wode, they laid on lode, + And made a cruel fight. + + They fought until they both did sweat, + With swords of tempered steel, + Until the blood, like drops of rain, + They trickling down did feel. + + "Yield thee, Lord Percy," Douglas said, + "In faith I will thee bring + Where thou shalt high advancèd be + By James, our Scottish king. + + "Thy ransom I will freely give, + And this report of thee,-- + Thou art the most courageous knight + That ever I did see." + + "No, Douglas," saith Earl Percy then, + "Thy proffer I do scorn; + I will not yield to any Scot + That ever yet was born." + + With that there came an arrow keen + Out of an English bow, + Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart,-- + A deep and deadly blow; + + Who never spake more words than these: + "Fight on, my merry men all; + For why, my life is at an end; + Lord Percy sees my fall." + + Then leaving life, Earl Percy took + The dead man by the hand; + And said, "Earl Douglas, for thy life + Would I had lost my land. + + "In truth, my very heart doth bleed + With sorrow for thy sake; + For sure a more redoubted knight + Mischance did never take." + + A knight amongst the Scots there was + Who saw Earl Douglas die, + Who straight in wrath did vow revenge + Upon the Earl Percy. + + Sir Hugh Montgomery was he called, + Who, with a spear full bright, + Well mounted on a gallant steed, + Ran fiercely through the fight; + + And past the English archers all, + Without a dread or fear; + And through Earl Percy's body then + He thrust his hateful spear; + + With such vehement force and might + He did his body gore, + The staff ran through the other side + A large cloth-yard and more. + + So thus did both these nobles die. + Whose courage none could stain. + An English archer then perceived + The noble earl was slain. + + He had a bow bent in his hand, + Made of a trusty tree; + An arrow of a cloth-yard long + To the hard head haled he. + + Against Sir Hugh Montgomery + So right the shaft he set, + The gray goose wing that was thereon + In his heart's blood was wet. + + This fight did last from break of day + Till setting of the sun; + For when they rung the evening-bell + The battle scarce was done. + + With stout Earl Percy there was slain + Sir John of Egerton, + Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John, + Sir James, that bold baron. + + And with Sir George and stout Sir James, + Both knights of good account, + Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain, + Whose prowess did surmount. + + For Witherington my heart is woe + That ever he slain should be, + For when his legs were hewn in two, + He knelt and fought on his knee. + + And with Earl Douglas there was slain + Sir Hugh Mountgomery, + Sir Charles Murray, that from the field + One foot would never flee. + + Sir Charles Murray of Ratcliff, too,-- + His sister's son was he; + Sir David Lamb, so well esteemed, + But saved he could not be. + + And the Lord Maxwell in like case + Did with Earl Douglas die: + Of twenty hundred Scottish spears, + Scarce fifty-five did fly. + + Of fifteen hundred Englishmen, + Went home but fifty-three; + The rest in Chevy-Chase were slain, + Under the greenwood tree. + + Next day did many widows come, + Their husbands to bewail; + They washed their wounds in brinish tears, + But all would not prevail. + + Their bodies, bathed in purple blood, + They bore with them away; + They kissed them dead a thousand times, + Ere they were clad in clay. + + The news was brought to Edinburgh, + Where Scotland's king did reign, + That brave Earl Douglas suddenly + Was with an arrow slain: + + "O heavy news," King James did say; + "Scotland can witness be + I have not any captain more + Of such account as he." + + Like tidings to King Henry came + Within as short a space, + That Percy of Northumberland + Was slain in Chevy-Chase: + + "Now God be with him," said our King, + "Since 'twill no better be; + I trust I have within my realm + Five hundred as good as he: + + "Yet shall not Scots or Scotland say + But I will vengeance take; + I'll be revengèd on them all + For brave Earl Percy's sake." + + This vow full well the King performed + After at Humbledown; + In one day fifty knights were slain + With lords of high renown; + + And of the rest, of small account, + Did many hundreds die: + Thus endeth the hunting of Chevy-Chase, + Made by the Earl Percy. + + God save the king, and bless this land, + With plenty, joy and peace; + And grant, henceforth, that foul debate + 'Twixt noblemen may cease. + + + + +THE ATTACK ON THE CASTLE +[Footnote: _The Attack on the Castle_ is from Scott's novel of +_Ivanhoe_.] + +_By_ SIR WALTER SCOTT + + +A moment of peril is often also a moment of open-hearted kindness and +affection. We are thrown off our guard by the general agitation of our +feelings, and betray the intensity of those which, at more tranquil +periods, our prudence at least conceals, if it cannot altogether +suppress them. In finding herself once more by the side of Ivanhoe, +Rebecca was astonished at the keen sensation of pleasure which she +experienced, even at a time when all around them both was danger, if +not despair. As she felt his pulse, and inquired after his health, +there was a softness in her touch and in her accents, implying a kinder +interest than she would herself have been pleased to have voluntarily +expressed. Her voice faltered and her hand trembled, and it was only +the cold question of Ivanhoe, "Is it you, gentle maiden?" which +recalled her to herself, and reminded her the sensations which she felt +were not and could not be mutual. A sigh escaped, but it was scarce +audible; and the questions which she asked the knight concerning his +state of health were put in the tone of calm friendship. Ivanhoe +answered her hastily that he was, in point of health, as well, and +better, than he could have expected. "Thanks," he said, "dear Rebecca, +to thy helpful skill." + +"He calls me _dear Rebecca_," said the maiden to herself, "but it is in +the cold and careless tone which ill suits the word. His war-horse, his +hunting hound, are dearer to him than the despised Jewess!" + +"My mind, gentle maiden," continued Ivanhoe, "is more disturbed by +anxiety than my body with pain. From the speeches of these men who were +my warders just now, I learn that I am a prisoner, and, if I judge +aright of the loud hoarse voice which even now despatched them hence on +some military duty, I am in the castle of Front-de-Boeuf. If so, how +will this end, or how can I protect Rowena and my father?" + +"He names not the Jew or Jewess," said Rebecca, internally; "yet what +is our portion in him, and how justly am I punished by Heaven for +letting my thoughts dwell upon him!" She hastened after this brief +self-accusation to give Ivanhoe what information she could; but it +amounted only to this, that the Templar Bois-Guilbert and the Baron +Front-de-Boeuf were commanders within the castle; that it was +beleaguered from without, but by whom she knew not. + +The noise within the castle, occasioned by the defensive preparations, +which had been considerable for some time, now increased into tenfold +bustle and clamor. The heavy yet hasty step of the men-at-arms +traversed the battlements, or resounded on the narrow and winding +passages and stairs which led to the various bartizans [Footnote: A +bartizan is a sort of small overhanging balcony, built for defense or +for lookout.] and points of defense. The voices of the knights were +heard, animating their followers, or directing means of defense, while +their commands were often drowned in the clashing of armor, or the +clamorous shouts of those whom they addressed. Tremendous as these +sounds were, and yet more terrible from the awful event which they +presaged, there was a sublimity mixed with them which Rebecca's high- +toned mind could feel even in that moment of terror. Her eye kindled, +although the blood fled from her cheeks; and there was a strong mixture +of fear, and of a thrilling sense of the sublime, as she repeated, +half-whispering to herself, half-speaking to her companion, the sacred +text--"The quiver rattleth--the glittering spear and the shield--the +noise of the captains and the shouting!" + +[Illustration: IVANHOE WAS IMPATIENT AT HIS INACTIVITY.] + +But Ivanhoe was like the war-horse of that sublime passage, glowing +with impatience at his inactivity, and with his ardent desire to mingle +in the affray of which these sounds were the introduction. "If I could +but drag myself," he said, "to yonder window, that I might see how this +brave game is like to go! If I had but bow to shoot a shaft, or battle- +axe to strike were it but a single blow for our deliverance! It is +vain--it is vain--I am alike nerveless and weaponless." + +"Fret not thyself, noble knight," answered Rebecca, "the sounds have +ceased of a sudden; it may be they join not battle." + +"Thou knowest naught of it," said Ivanhoe, impatiently; "this dead +pause only shows that the men are at their posts on the walls and +expecting an instant attack; what we have heard is but the distant +muttering of the storm; it will burst anon in all its fury. Could I but +reach yonder window!" + +"Thou wilt but injure thyself by the attempt, noble knight," replied +his attendant. Observing his solicitude, she added, "I myself will +stand at the lattice, and describe as I can what passes without." + +"You must not--you shall not!" exclaimed Ivanhoe. "Each lattice, each +aperture, will soon be a mark for the archers; some random shaft--" + +"It shall be welcome!" murmured Rebecca, as with firm pace she ascended +two or three steps, which led to the window of which they spoke. + +"Rebecca--dear Rebecca!" exclaimed Ivanhoe, "this is no maiden's +pastime; do not expose thyself to wounds and death, and render me +forever miserable for having given the occasion; at least, cover +thyself with yonder ancient buckler, and show as little of your person +at the lattice as may be." + +Following with wonderful promptitude the directions of Ivanhoe, and +availing herself of the protection of the large ancient shield, which +she placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with +tolerable security to herself, could witness part of what was passing +without the castle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which the +assailants were making for the storm. Indeed, the situation which she +thus obtained was peculiarly favorable for this purpose, because being +placed on an angle of the main building, Rebecca could not only see +what passed beyond the precincts of the castle, but also commanded a +view of the outwork likely to be the first object of the meditated +assault. It was an exterior fortification of no great height or +strength, intended to protect the postern-gate, through which Cedric +had been recently dismissed by Front-de-Boeuf. The castle moat divided +this species of barbican [Footnote: A barbican is a tower or outwork +built to defend the entry to a castle or fortification.] from the rest +of the fortress, so that, in case of its being taken, it was easy to +cut off the communication with the main building, by withdrawing the +temporary bridge. In the outwork was a sallyport [Footnote: A sallyport +is an underground passage from the outer to the inner fortifications.] +corresponding to the postern of the castle, and the whole was +surrounded by a strong palisade. Rebecca could observe, from the number +of men placed for the defence of this post, that the besieged +entertained apprehensions for its safety; and from the mustering of the +assailants in a direction nearly opposite to the outwork, it seemed no +less plain that it had been selected as a vulnerable point of attack. + +These appearances she hastily communicated to Ivanhoe, and added, "The +skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are +advanced from its dark shadow." + +"Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe. + +"Under no ensign of war which I can observe," answered Rebecca. + +"A singular novelty," muttered the knight, "to advance to storm such a +castle without pennon or banner displayed! Seest thou who they be that +act as leaders?" + +"A knight, clad in sable armor, is the most conspicuous," said the +Jewess; "he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the +direction of all around him." + +"What device does he bear on his shield?" replied Ivanhoe. + +"Something resembling a bar of iron, and a padlock painted blue on the +black shield." + +"A fetterlock and shackle-bolt [Footnote: These are terms in heraldry. +Ivanhoe means that, since he is a prisoner, fetters and shackles would +be good device for his shield.] azure," said Ivanhoe; "I know not who +may bear the device, but well I ween it might now be mine own. Canst +thou not see the motto?" + +"Scarce the device itself at this distance," replied Rebecca; "but when +the sun glances fair upon his shield it shows as I tell you." + +"Seem there no other leaders?" exclaimed the anxious inquirer. + +"None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station," +said Rebecca; "but doubtless the other side of the castle is also +assailed. They appear even now preparing to advance--God of Zion +protect us! What a dreadful sight! Those who advance first bear huge +shields and defences made of plank; the others follow, bending their +bows as they come on. They raise their bows! God of Moses, forgive the +creatures Thou hast made!" + +Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for +assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once +answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements, +which, mingled with the deep and hollow clang of the nakers (a species +of kettledrum), retorted in notes of defiance the challenge of the +enemy. The shouts of both parties augmented the fearful din, the +assailants crying, "Saint George for merry England!" [Footnote: Saint +George is the patron saint of England.] and the Normans answering them +with loud cries of _"En avant De Bracy! Beau-seant! 'Beau-seant! +Front-de-Boeuf a la rescousse!"_ [Footnote: _En avant De Bracy_ means +_Forward, De Bracy_. _Beau-seant_ is the name given to the black and +white standard of the Knights Templars. The word was used as a battle +cry. _A la rescousse_ means _To the rescue_.] according to the war-cries +of their different commanders. + +It was not, however, by clamor that the contest was to be decided, and +the desperate efforts of the assailants were met by an equally vigorous +defence on the part of the besieged. The archers, trained by their +woodland pastimes to the most effective use of the long-bow, shot, to +use the appropriate phrase of the time, so "wholly together," that no +point at which a defender could show the least part of his person +escaped their cloth-yard shafts. [Footnote: _Cloth-yard_ was the name +given to an old measure used for cloth, which differed somewhat from the +modern yard. A _cloth-yard_ shaft was an arrow a yard long.] By this +heavy discharge, which continued as thick and sharp as hail, while, +notwithstanding, every arrow had its individual aim, and flew by scores +together against each embrasure and opening in the parapets, as well as +at every window where a defender either occasionally had post, or might +be suspected to be stationed--by this sustained discharge, two or three +of the garrison were slain and several others wounded. But confident in +their armor of proof, and in the cover which their situation afforded, +the followers of Front-de-Boeuf and his allies showed an obstinacy in +defence proportioned to the fury of the attack, and replied with the +discharge of their large cross-bows, as well as with their long-bows, +slings, and other missile weapons, to the close and continued shower of +arrows; and, as the assailants were necessarily but indifferently +protected, did considerably more damage than they received at their +hand. The whizzing of shafts and of missiles on both sides was only +interrupted by the shouts which arose when either side inflicted or +sustained some notable loss. + +"And I must lie here like a bed-ridden monk," exclaimed Ivanhoe, "while +the game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of +others! Look from the window once again, kind maiden, but beware that +you are not marked by the archers beneath. Look out once more, and tell +me if they yet advance to the storm." + +With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had +employed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, +sheltering herself, however, so as not to be visible from beneath. + +"What dost thou see, Rebecca?" again demanded the wounded knight. + +"Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine +eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them." + +"That cannot endure," said Ivanhoe; "if they press not right on to +carry the castle by pure force of arms, the archery may avail but +little against stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the Knight of the +Fetterlock, fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the +leader is, so will his followers be." + +"I see him not," said Rebecca. + +"Foul craven!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "does he blench from the helm when +the wind blows highest?" + +"He blenches not!--he blenches not!" said Rebecca, "I see him now, he +leads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbican. They +pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with +axes. His high black plume floats abroad over the throng, like a raven +over the field of the slain. They have made a breach in the barriers-- +they rush in--they are thrust back! Front-de-Boeuf heads the defenders; +I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the +breach, and the pass is disputed hand to hand, and man to man. God of +Jacob! it is the meeting of two fierce tides--the conflict of two +oceans moved by adverse winds!" + +She turned her head from the lattice, as if unable longer to endure a +sight so terrible. + +"Look forth again, Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, mistaking the cause of her +retiring; "the archery must in some degree have ceased, since they are +now fighting hand to hand. Look again, there is now less danger." + +Rebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately exclaimed, "Holy +prophets of the law! Front-de-Boeuf and the Black Knight fight hand to +hand on the breach, amid the roar of their followers, who watch the +progress of the strife, Heaven strike with the cause of the oppressed +and of the captive!" She then uttered a loud shriek, and exclaimed, "He +is down!--he is down!" + +[Illustration: THE BLACK KNIGHT AT THE GATE OF THE CASTLE] + +"Who is down?" cried Ivanhoe; "for our dear Lady's sake, tell me which +has fallen?" + +"The Black Knight," answered Rebecca, faintly; then instantly again +shouted with joyful eagerness--"But no--but no! the name of the Lord of +Hosts be blessed! he is on foot again, and fights as if there were +twenty men's strength in his single arm. His sword is broken--he +snatches an axe from a yeoman--he presses Front-de-Boeuf with blow on +blow. The giant stoops and totters like an oak under the steel of the +woodman--he falls--he falls!" + +"Front-de-Boeuf?" exclaimed Ivanhoe. + +"Front-de-Boeuf," answered the Jewess. "His men rush to the rescue, +headed by the haughty Templar; their united force compels the champion +to pause. They drag Front-de-Boeuf within the walls." + +"The assailants have won the barriers, have they not?" said Ivanhoe. + +"They have--they have!" exclaimed Rebecca; and they press the besieged +hard upon the outer wall; some plant ladders, some swarm like bees, and +endeavor to ascend upon the shoulders of each other; down go stones, +beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and as fast as they bear +the wounded to the rear, fresh men supply their places in the assault. +Great God! hast Thou given men Thine own image that it should be thus +cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!" + +"Think not of that," said Ivanhoe; "this is no time for such thoughts. +Who yield? Who push their way?" + +"The ladders are thrown down," replied Rebecca, shuddering; "the +soldiers lie grovelling under them like crushed reptiles. The besieged +have the better." + +"Saint George strike for us!" exclaimed the knight; "do the false +yeomen give way?" + +"No!" exclaimed Rebecca, "they bear themselves right yeomanly. The +Black Knight approaches the postern with his huge axe; the thundering +blows which he deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts of +the battle. Stones and beams are hailed down on the bold champion: he +regards them no more than if they were thistle-down or feathers!" + +"By Saint John of Acre," [Footnote: _Saint John of Acre_ was the +full name of the Syrian town usually known as _Acre_. During the +Crusade which the Christians of Europe undertook to recover the Holy +Land from the Saracens, Acre was one of the chief points of contest. It +was held first by one party, then by the other. Owing to this +importance, it was natural that its name should come to be used as an +exclamation.] said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on his couch, +"methought there was but one man in England that might do such a deed!" + +"The postern gate shakes," continued Rebecca--"it crashes--it is +splintered by his blows--they rush in--the outwork is won. Oh God! they +hurl the defenders from the battlements--they throw them into the moat. +O men, if ye be indeed men, spare them that can resist no longer!" + +"That ridge--the ridge which communicates with the castle--have they +won that pass?" exclaimed Ivanhoe. + +"No," replied Rebecca; "the Templar has destroyed the plank on which +they crossed; few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle-- +the shrieks and cries which you hear tell the fate of the others. Alas! +I see it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon +battle." + +"What do they now, maiden?" said Ivanhoe; look forth yet again--this is +no time to faint at bloodshed." + +"It is over for the time," answered Rebecca; "our friends strengthen +themselves within the outwork which they have mastered, and it affords +them so good a shelter from the foemen's shot that the garrison only +bestow a few bolts on it from interval to interval, as if rather to +disquiet than effectually to injure them." + +"Our friends," said Ivanhoe, "will surely not abandon an enterprise so +gloriously begun and so happily attained. O no! I will put my faith in +the good knight whose axe hath rent heart-of-oak and bars of iron. +Singular," he again muttered to himself, "if there be two who can do a +deed of such derring-do![Footnote: _Derring-do_ is an old word for +daring, or _warlike deed_] A fetterlock, and a shackle-bolt on a +field sable--what may that mean? Seest thou nought else, Rebecca, by +which the Black Knight may be distinguished?" + +"Nothing," said the Jewess; "all about him is black as the wing of the +night raven. Nothing can I spy that can mark him further; but having +once seen him put forth his strength in battle, methinks I could know +him again among a thousand warriors. He rushes to the fray as if he +were summoned to a banquet. There is more than mere strength--there +seems as if the whole soul and spirit of the champion were given to +every blow which he deals upon his enemies. God assoilzie [Footnote: +_Assoilzie_ is an old word for _absolve_] him of the sin of bloodshed! +It is fearful, yet magnificent, to behold how the arm and heart of one +man can triumph over hundreds." + +"Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, "thou hast painted a hero; surely they rest +but to refresh their force, or to provide the means of crossing the +moat. Under such a leader as thou hast spoken this knight to be, there +are no craven fears, no cold-blooded delays, no yielding up a gallant +emprize, since the difficulties which render it arduous render it also +glorious. I swear by the honor of my house--I vow by the name of my +bright lady-love, I would endure ten years' captivity to fight one day +by that good knight's side in such a quarrel as this!" + +"Alas!" said Rebecca, leaving her station at the window, and +approaching the couch of the wounded knight, "this impatient yearning +after action--this struggling with and repining at your present +weakness, will not fail to injure your returning health. How couldst +thou hope to inflict wounds on others, ere that be healed which thou +thyself hast received?" + +"Rebecca," he replied, "thou knowest not how impossible it is for one +trained to actions of chivalry to remain passive as a priest, or a +woman, when they are acting deeds of honor around him. The love of +battle is the food upon which we live--the dust of the _mêlée_ +[Footnote: _Mêlée_ is a French word meaning a _hand-to-hand +conflict_.] is the breath of our nostrils! We live not--we wish not +to live--longer than while we are victorious and renowned. Such, +maiden, are the laws of chivalry to which we are sworn, and to which we +offer all that we hold dear." + +"Alas!" said the fair Jewess, "and what is it, valiant knight, save an +offering of sacrifice to a demon of vain glory, and a passing through +the fire to Moloch? [Footnote: _Moloch_ was the fire-god of the ancient +Ammonites, to whom human sacrifices were offered.] What remains to you +as the prize of all the blood you have spilled, of all the travail and +pain you have endured, of all the tears which your deeds have caused, +when death hath broken the strong man's spear, and overtaken the speed +of his war-horse?" + +"What remains?" cried Ivanhoe. "Glory, maiden--glory! which gilds our +sepulchre and embalms our name." + +"Glory!" continued Rebecca; "alas! is the rusted nail which hangs as a +hatchment over the champion's dim and mouldering tomb, is the defaced +sculpture of the inscription which the ignorant monk can hardly read to +the inquiring pilgrim--are these sufficient rewards for the sacrifice +of every kindly affection, for a life spent miserably that ye may make +others miserable? Or is there such virtue in the rude rhymes of a +wandering bard, that domestic love, kindly affection, peace and +happiness, are so wildly bartered, to become the hero of those ballads +which vagabond minstrels sing to drunken churls over their evening +ale?" + +"By the soul of Hereward!" replied the knight, impatiently, "thou +speakest, maiden, of thou knowest not what. Thou wouldst quench the +pure light of chivalry, which alone distinguishes the noble from the +base, the gentle knight from the churl and the savage; which rates our +life far, far beneath the pitch of our honor, raises us victorious over +pain, toil, and suffering, and teaches us to fear no evil but disgrace. +Thou art no Christian, Rebecca; and to thee are unknown those high +feelings which swell the bosom of a noble maiden when her lover hath +done some deed of emprize which sanctions his flame. Chivalry! Why, +maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection, the stay of the +oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the +tyrant. Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds +the best protection in her lance and her sword." + +"I am, indeed," said Rebecca, "sprung from a race whose courage was +distinguished in the defence of their own land, but who warred not, +even while yet a nation, save at the command of the Deity, or in +defending their country from oppression. The sound of the trumpet wakes +Judah no longer, and her despised children are now but the unresisting +victims of hostile and military oppression. Well hast thou spoken, Sir +Knight: until the God of Jacob shall raise up for His chosen people a +second Gideon, or a new Maccabeus, it ill beseemeth the Jewish damsel +to speak of battle or of war." + +The high-minded maiden concluded the argument in a tone of sorrow, +which deeply expressed her sense of the degradation of her people, +imbittered perhaps by the idea that Ivanhoe considered her as one not +entitled to interfere in a case of honor, and incapable of entertaining +or expressing sentiments of honor and generosity. + +"How little he knows this bosom," she said, "to imagine that cowardice +or meanness of soul must needs be its guests, because I have censured +the fantastic chivalry. Would to Heaven that the shedding of mine own +blood, drop by drop, could redeem the captivity of Judah! Nay, would to +God it could avail to set free my father, and this his benefactor, from +the chains of the oppressor. The proud Christian should then see +whether the daughter of God's chosen people dared not to die as bravely +as the finest Nazarene maiden, that boasts her descent from some petty +chieftain of the rude and frozen north!" + +She then looked toward the couch of the wounded knight. + +"He sleeps," she said; "nature exhausted by suffrance, and the waste of +spirits, his wearied frame embraces the first moment of temporary +relaxation to sink into slumber." + +She wrapped herself closely in her veil, and sat down at a distance +from the couch of the wounded knight, with her back turned toward it, +fortifying, or endeavoring to fortify, her mind against the impending +evils. + +During the interval of quiet which followed the first success of the +besiegers, while the one party was preparing to pursue their advantage +and the other to strengthen their means of defence, the Templar and De +Bracy held brief counsel together in the hall of the castle. + +"Where is Front-de-Boeuf?" said the latter, who had superintended the +defence of the fortress on the other side; "men say he hath been +slain." + +"He lives," said the Templar, coolly--"Lives as yet; but had he worn +the bull's head of which he bears the name, [Footnote: _Front-de-Boeuf_ +means _Bull's Head_.] and ten plates of iron to fence it withal, he must +have gone down before yonder fatal axe. Yet a few hours, and Front-de- +Boeuf is with his fathers--a powerful limb lopped off Prince John's +enterprise." [Footnote: Prince John was scheming to usurp the throne of +England while King Richard, his brother, was absent on one of the +Crusades.] + +"And a brave addition to the kingdom of Satan," said De Bracy; "this +comes of reviling saints and angels, and ordering images of holy things +and holy men to be flung down on the heads of these rascaille yeomen." + +"Go to, thou art a fool," said the Templar; "thy superstition is upon a +level with Front-de-Boeuf's want of faith; neither of you can render a +reason for your belief or unbelief. Let us think of making good the +castle. How fought these villain yeomen on thy side?" + +"Like fiends incarnate," said De Bracy. "They swarmed close up to the +walls, headed, as I think, by the knave who won the prize at the +archery, for I knew his horn and baldric. Had I not been armed in +proof, the villain had marked me down seven times with as little +remorse as if I had been a buck in season. He told every rivet on my +armor with a cloth-yard shaft, that rapped against my ribs with as +little compunction as if my bones had been of iron. But that I wore a +shirt of Spanish mail under my platecoat, I had been fairly sped." + +"But you maintained your post?" said the Templar. "We lost the outwork +on our part." + +"That is a shrewd loss," said De Bracy; "the knaves will find cover +there to assault the castle more closely, and may, if not well watched, +gain some unguarded corner of a tower, or some forgotten window, and so +break in upon us. Our numbers are too few for the defence of every +point, and the men complain that they can nowhere show themselves, but +they are the mark for as many arrows as a parish-butt on a holyday +even. Front-de-Boeuf is dying too, so we shall receive no more aid from +his bull's head and brutal strength. How think you, Sir Brian, were we +not better make a virtue of necessity, and compound with the rogues by +delivering up our prisoners?" + +"How!" exclaimed the Templar; "deliver up our prisoners, and stand an +object alike of ridicule and execration, as the doughty warriors who +dared by a night attack to possess themselves of the persons of a party +of defenceless travelers, yet could not make good a strong castle +against a vagabond troop of outlaws, led by swineherds, jesters, and +the very refuse of mankind? Shame on thy counsel, Maurice de Bracy! The +ruins of this castle shall bury both my body and my shame, ere I +consent to such base and dishonorable composition." + +"Let us to the walls, then," said De Bracy, carelessly; "that man never +breathed, be he Turk or Templar, who held life at lighter rate than I +do. But I trust there is no dishonor in wishing I had here some two +scores of my gallant troop of Free Companions? Oh, my brave lances! if +ye knew but how hard your captain were this day bested, how soon should +I see my banner at the head of your clump of spears! And how short +while would these rabble villains stand to endure your encounter!" + +"Wish for whom thou wilt," said the Templar, "but let us make what +defence we can with the soldiers who remain. They are chiefly Front-de- +Boeuf's followers, hated by the English for a thousand acts of +insolence and oppression." + +"The better," said De Bracy; "the rugged slaves will defend themselves +to the last drop of their blood, ere they encounter the revenge of the +peasants without. Let us up and be doing, then, Brian de Bois-Guilbert; +and, live or die, thou shalt see Maurice de Bracy bear himself this day +as a gentleman of blood and lineage." + +"To the walls!" answered the Templar; and they both ascended the +battlements to do all that skill could dictate, and manhood accomplish, +in defence of the place. They readily agreed that the point of greatest +danger was that opposite to the outwork of which the assailants had +possessed themselves. The castle, indeed, was divided from that +barbican by the moat, and it was impossible that the besiegers could +assail the postern door, with which the outwork corresponded, without +surmounting that obstacle; but it was the opinion both of the Templar +and De Bracy that the besiegers, if governed by the same policy their +leader had already displayed, would endeavor, by a formidable assault, +to draw the chief part of the defenders' observation to this point, and +take measures to avail themselves of every negligence which might take +place in the defence elsewhere. To guard against such an evil, their +numbers only permitted the knights to place sentinels from space to +space along the walls in communication with each other, who might give +the alarm whenever danger was threatened. Meanwhile, they agreed that +De Bracy should command the defense of the postern, and the Templar +should keep with him a score of men or thereabouts as a body of +reserve, ready to hasten to any other point which might be suddenly +threatened. The loss of the barbican had also this unfortunate effect, +that notwithstanding the superior height of the castle walls, the +besieged could not see from them, with the same precision as before, +the operations of the enemy; for some straggling underwood approached +so near the sallyport of the outwork that the assailants might +introduce into it whatever force they thought proper, not only under +cover, but even without the knowledge of the defenders. Utterly +uncertain, therefore, upon what point the storm was to burst, De Bracy +and his companion were under the necessity of providing against every +possible contingency, and their followers, however brave, experienced +the anxious dejection of mind incident to men inclosed by enemies who +possessed the power of choosing their time and mode of attack. + +Meanwhile, the lord of the beleaguered and endangered castle lay upon a +bed of bodily pain and mental agony. He had not the usual resource of +bigots in that superstitious period, most of whom were wont to atone +for the crimes they were guilty of by liberality to the church, +stupefying by this means their terrors by the idea of atonement and +forgiveness; and although the refuge which success thus purchased was +no more like to the peace of mind which follows on sincere repentance +than the turbid stupefaction procured by opium resembles healthy and +natural slumbers, it was still a state of mind preferable to the +agonies of awakened remorse. But among the vices of Front-de-Boeuf, a +hard and griping man, avarice was predominant; and he preferred setting +church and churchmen at defiance to purchasing from them pardon and +absolution at the price of treasure and of manors. Nor did the Templar, +an infidel of another stamp, justly characterize his associate when he +said Front-de-Boeuf could assign no cause for his unbelief and contempt +for the established faith; for the baron would have alleged that the +church sold her wares too dear, that the spiritual freedom which she +put up to sale was only to be bought, like that of the chief captain of +Jerusalem, "with a great sum," and Front-de-Boeuf preferred denying the +virtue of the medicine to paying the expense of the physician. + +But the moment had now arrived when earth and all his treasures were +gliding from before his eyes, and when the savage baron's heart, though +hard as a nether millstone, became appalled as he gazed forward into +the waste darkness of futurity. The fever of his body aided the +impatience and agony of his mind, and his death-bed exhibited a mixture +of the newly-awakened feelings of horror combating with the fixed and +inveterate obstinacy of his disposition--a fearful state of mind, only +to be equalled in those tremendous regions where there are complaints +without hope, remorse without repentance, a dreadful sense of present +agony, and a presentiment that it cannot cease or be diminished! + +"Where be these dog-priests now," growled the baron, "who set such +price on their ghostly mummery? I have heard old men talk of prayer-- +prayer by their own voice--such need not to court or to bribe the false +priest. But I--I dare not!" + +"Lives Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," said a broken and shrill voice close +by his bedside, "to say there is that which he dares not?" + +The evil conscience and the shaken nerves of Front-de-Boeuf heard, in +this strange interruption to his soliloquy, the voice of one of those +demons who, as the superstition of the times believed, beset the beds +of dying men, to distract their thoughts, and turn them from the +meditations which concerned their eternal welfare. + +He shuddered and drew himself together; but, instantly summoning up his +wonted resolution, he exclaimed, "Who is there? what art thou, that +darest to echo my words in a tone like that of the night raven? Come +before my couch that I may see thee." + +"I am thine evil angel, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," replied the voice. + +"Let me behold thee then in thy bodily shape, if thou be'st indeed a +fiend," replied the dying knight; "think not that I will blench from +thee. By the eternal dungeon, could I but grapple with these horrors +that hover round me as I have done with mortal danger, Heaven or Hell +should never say that I shrunk from the conflict!" + +"Think on thy sins, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," said the almost unearthly +voice--"on rebellion, on rapine, on murder! Who stirred up the +licentious John to war against his grayheaded father--against his +generous brother?" + +"Be thou fiend, priest, or devil," replied Front-de-Boeuf, "thou liest +in thy throat! Not I stirred John to rebellion--not I alone; there were +fifty knights and barons, the flower of the midland counties, better +men never laid lance in rest. And must I answer for the fault done by +fifty? False fiend, I defy thee! Depart, and haunt my couch no more. +Let me die in peace if thou be mortal; if thou be demon, thy time is +not yet come." + +"In peace thou shalt NOT die," repeated the voice; "even in death shalt +thou think on thy murders--on the groans which this castle has echoed-- +on the blood that is engrained in its floors!" + +"Thou canst not shake me by thy petty malice," answered Front-de-Boeuf, +with a ghastly and constrained laugh. "The infidel Jew--it was merit +with Heaven to deal with him as I did, else wherefore are men canonized +who dip their hands in the blood of Saracens? The Saxon porkers whom I +have slain--they were the foes of my country, and of my lineage, and of +my liege lord. Ho! ho! thou seest there is no crevice in my coat of +plate. Art thou fled? art thou silenced?" + +"No, foul parricide!" replied the voice; "think of thy father!--think +of his death!--think of his banquet-room flooded with his gore, and +that poured forth by the hand of a son!" + +"Ha!" answered the Baron, after a long pause, "an thou knowest that, +thou art indeed the Author of Evil, and as omniscient as the monks call +thee! That secret I deemed locked in my own breast, and in that of one +besides--the temptress, the partaker of my guilt. Go, leave me, fiend! +and seek the Saxon witch Ulrica, who alone could tell thee what she and +I alone witnessed. Go, I say, to her, who washed the wounds, and +straighted the corpse, and gave to the slain man the outward show of +one parted in time and in the course of nature. Go to her; she was my +temptress, the foul provoker, the more foul rewarder, of the deed; let +her, as well as I, taste of the tortures which anticipate Hell!" + +"She already tastes them," said Ulrica, stepping before the couch of +Front-de-Boeuf; "she hath long drunken of this cup, and its bitterness +is now sweetened to see that thou dost partake it. Grind not thy teeth, +Front-de-Boeuf--roll not thy eyes--clench not thy hand, nor shake it at +me with that gesture of menace! The hand which, like that of thy +renowned ancestor who gained thy name, could have broken with one +stroke the skull of a mountain-bull, is now unnerved and powerless as +mine own!" + +"Vile, murderous hag!" replied Front-de-Boeuf--"detestable screech-owl! +it is then thou who art come to exult over the ruins thou hast assisted +to lay low?" + +"Ay, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," answered she, "It is Ulrica!--it is the +daughter of the murdered Torquil Wolfganger!--it is the sister of his +slaughtered sons! it is she who demands of thee, and of thy father's +house, father and kindred, name and fame--all that she has lost by the +name of Front-de-Boeuf! Think of my wrongs, Front-de-Boeuf, and answer +me if I speak not truth. Thou hast been my evil angel, and I will be +thine: I will dog thee till the very instant of dissolution!" + +"Detestable fury!" exclaimed Front-de-Boeuf, "that moment shalt thou +never witness. Ho! Giles, Clement, and Eustace! Saint Maur and Stephen! +seize this damned witch, and hurl her from the battlements headlong; +she has betrayed us to the Saxon! Ho! Saint Maur! Clement! false- +hearted knaves, where tarry ye?" + +"Call on them again, valiant baron," said the hag, with a smile of +grisly mockery; "summon thy vassals around thee, doom them that loiter +to the scourge and the dungeon. But know, mighty chief," she continued, +suddenly changing her tone, "thou shalt have neither answer, nor aid, +nor obedience at their hands. Listen to these horrid sounds," for the +din of the recommenced assault and defence now rung fearfully loud from +the battlements of the castle; "in that warcry is the downfall of thy +house. The blood-cemented fabric of Front-de-Boeuf's power totters to +the foundation, and before the foes he most despised! The Saxon, +Reginald!--the scorned Saxon assails thy walls! Why liest thou here, +like a worn-out hind, when the Saxon storms thy place of strength? Thou +shalt die no soldier's death, but perish like the fox in his den, when +the peasants have set fire to the cover around it." + +"Hateful hag! thou liest!" exclaimed Front-de-Boeuf; "my followers bear +them bravely--my walls are strong and high--my comrades in arms fear +not a whole host of Saxons. The war-cry of the Templar and of the Free +Companions rises high over the conflict! And by mine honor, when we +kindle the blazing beacon for joy of our defence, it shall consume thee +body and bones." + +"Hold thy belief," replied Ulrica, "till the proof reach thee. But no!" +she said, interrupting herself, "thou shalt know even now the doom +which all thy power, strength and courage is unable to avoid, though it +is prepared for thee by this feeble hand. Markest thou the smouldering +and suffocating vapor which already eddies in sable folds through the +chamber? Didst thou think it was but the darkening of thy bursting +eyes, the difficulty of thy cumbered breathing? No! Front-de-Boeuf, +there is another cause. Rememberest thou the magazine of fuel that is +stored beneath these apartments?" + +"Woman!" he exclaimed with fury, "thou hast not set fire to it? By +heaven, thou hast, and the castle is in flames!" + +"They are fast rising at least," said Ulrica, with frightful composure, +"and a signal shall soon wave to warn the besiegers to press hard upon +those who would extinguish them. Farewell, Front-de-Boeuf! But know, if +it will give thee comfort to know it, that Ulrica is bound to the same +dark coast with thyself, the companion of thy punishment as the +companion of thy guilt. And now, parricide, farewell for ever! May each +stone of this vaulted roof find a tongue to echo that title into thine +ear!" + +[Illustration: ULRICA LOCKS THE DOOR ] + +So saying, she left the apartment; and Front-de-Boeuf could hear the +crash of the ponderous keys as she locked and double-locked the door +behind her, thus cutting off the most slender chance of escape. In the +extremity of agony, he shouted upon his servants and allies--"Stephen +and Saint Maur! Clement and Giles! I burn here unaided! To the rescue-- +to the rescue, brave Bois-Guilbert, valiant De Bracy! It is Front-de- +Boeuf who calls! It is your master, ye traitor squires! Your ally--your +brother in arms, ye perjured and faithless knights! All the curses due +to traitors upon your recreant heads, do you abandon me to perish thus +miserably! They hear me not--they cannot hear me--my voice is lost in +the din of battle. The smoke rolls thicker and thicker, the fire has +caught upon the floor below. O, for one draught of the air of heaven, +were it to be purchased by instant annihilation! The red fire flashes +through the thick smoke! the demon marches against me under the banner +of his own element. Foul spirit, avoid! I go not with thee without my +comrades--all, all are thine that garrison these walls. Thinkest thou +Front-de-Boeuf will be singled out to go alone? No; the infidel +Templar, De Bracy, Ulrica, the men who aided my enterprises, the dog +Saxons and accursed Jews who are my prisoners--all, all shall attend +me--a goodly fellowship as ever took the downward road." + +But it were impious to trace any further the picture of the blasphemer +and parricide's death-bed. + +When the barbican was carried, the Sable Knight sent notice of the +happy event to Locksley, the archer, requesting him at the same time to +keep such a strict observation on the castle as might prevent the +defenders from combining their force for a sudden sally, and recovering +the outwork which they had lost. This the knight was chiefly desirous +of avoiding, conscious that the men whom he led, being hasty and +untrained volunteers, imperfectly armed and unaccustomed to discipline, +must, upon any sudden attack, fight at great disadvantage with the +veteran soldiers of the Norman knights, who were well provided with +arms both defensive and offensive; and who, to match the zeal and high +spirit of the besiegers, had all the confidence which arises from +perfect discipline and the habitual use of weapons. + +The knight employed the interval in causing to be constructed a sort of +floating bridge, or long raft, by means of which he hoped to cross the +moat, in despite of the resistance of the enemy. This was a work of +some time, which the leaders the less regretted, as it gave Ulrica +leisure to execute her plan of diversion in their favor, whatever that +might be. + +When the raft was completed, the Black Knight addressed the besiegers: +"It avails not waiting here longer, my friends; the sun is descending +to the west, and I have that upon my hands which will not permit me to +tarry with you another day. Besides, it will be a marvel if the +horsemen come not upon us from York, unless we speedily accomplish our +purpose. Wherefore, one of ye go to Locksley, and bid him commence a +discharge of arrows on the opposite side of the castle, and move +forward as if about to assault it; and you, true English hearts, stand +by me, and be ready to thrust the raft endlong over the moat whenever +the postern on our side is thrown open. Follow me boldly across, and +aid me to burst yon sallyport in the main wall of the castle. As many +of you as like not this service, or are but ill armed to meet it, do +you man the top of the outwork, draw your bowstrings to your ears, and +mind you quell with your shot whatever shall appear to man the rampart. +Noble Cedric, wilt thou take the direction of those which remain?" + +"Not so!" said the Saxon; "lead I cannot; but may posterity curse me in +my grave, if I follow not with the foremost wherever thou shalt point +the way. The quarrel is mine, and well it becomes me to be in the van +of the battle." + +"Yet, bethink thee, noble Saxon," said the knight, "thou hast neither +hauberk, nor corselet, nor aught but that light helmet, target, and +sword." + +"The better!" answered Cedric; "I shall be the lighter to climb these +walls. And--forgive the boast, Sir Knight--thou shalt this day see the +naked breast of a Saxon as boldly presented to the battle as ever ye +beheld the steel corselet of a Norman." + +"In the name of God, then," said the knight, "fling open the door, and +launch the floating bridge." + +The portal, which led from the inner wall of the barbican to the moat, +and which corresponded with a sallyport in the main wall of the castle, +was now suddenly opened; the temporary bridge was then thrust forward, +and soon flashed in the waters, extending its length between the castle +and outwork, and forming a slippery and precarious passage for two men +abreast to cross the moat. Well aware of the importance of taking the +foe by surprise, the Black Knight, closely followed by Cedric, threw +himself upon the bridge, and reached the opposite side. Here he began +to thunder with his axe upon the gate of the castle, protected in part +from the shot and stones cast by the defenders by the ruins of the +former drawbridge, which the Templar had demolished in his retreat from +the barbican, leaving the counterpoise still attached to the upper part +of the portal. The followers of the knight had no such shelter; two +were instantly shot with cross-bow bolts, and two more fell into the +moat; the others retreated back into the barbican. + +The situation of Cedric and of the Black Knight was now truly +dangerous, and would have been still more so but for the constancy of +the archers in the barbican, who ceased not to shower their arrows upon +the battlements, distracting the attention of those by whom they were +manned, and thus affording a respite to their two chiefs from the storm +of missiles which must otherwise have overwhelmed them. But their +situation was eminently perilous, and was becoming more so with every +moment. + +"Shame on ye all!" cried De Bracy to the soldiers around him; "do ye +call yourselves cross-bowmen, and let these two dogs keep their station +under the walls of the castle? Heave over the coping stones from the +battlement, an better may not be. Get pickaxe and levers, and down with +that huge pinnacle!" pointing to a heavy piece of stone carved-work +that projected from the parapet. + +At this moment the besiegers caught sight of the red flag upon the +angle of the tower, which Ulrica raised to show that she had fired the +castle. The stout yeoman Locksley was the first who was aware of it, as +he was hasting to the outwork, impatient to see the progress of the +assault. + +"Saint George!" he cried--"Merry Saint George for England! To the +charge, bold yeomen! why leave ye the good knight and noble Cedric to +storm the pass alone? Make in, brave yeomen!--the castle is ours, we +have friends within. See yonder flag, it is the appointed signal-- +Torquilstone is ours! Think of honor--think of spoil! One effort, and +the place is ours!" + +With that he bent his good bow, and sent a shaft right through the +breast of one of the men-at-arms, who, under De Bracy's direction, was +loosening a fragment from one of the battlements to precipitate on the +heads of Cedric and the Black Knight. A second soldier caught from the +hands of the dying man the iron crow with which he heaved at and had +loosened the stone pinnacle, when, receiving an arrow through his +headpiece, he dropped from the battlements into the moat a dead man. +The men-at-arms were daunted, for no armor seemed proof against the +shot of this tremendous archer. + +"Do you give ground, base knaves!" said De Bracy. "Give me the lever!" + +And, snatching it up, he again assailed the loosened pinnacle, which +was of weight enough, if thrown down, not only to have destroyed the +remnant of the drawbridge which sheltered the two foremost assailants, +but also to have sunk the rude float of planks over which they had +crossed. All saw the danger, and the boldest avoided setting foot on +the raft. Thrice did Locksley bend his shaft against De Bracy, and +thrice did his arrow bound back from the knight's armor of proof. + +"Curse on thy Spanish steel-coat!" said Locksley, "had English smith +forged it, these arrows had gone through, as if it had been silk or +sendal." He then began to call out. "Comrades! friends! noble Cedric! +bear back and let the ruin fall." + +His warning voice was unheard, for the din which the knight himself +occasioned by his strokes upon the postern would have drowned twenty +war-trumpets. The faithful Gurth indeed sprung forward on the planked +bridge, to warn Cedric of his impending fate, or to share it with him. +But his warning would have come too late; the massive pinnacle already +tottered, and De Bracy, who still heaved at his task, would have +accomplished it had not the voice of the Templar sounded close in his +ear: + +"All is lost, De Bracy; the castle burns." + +"Thou art mad to say so!" replied the knight. + +"It is all in a light flame on the western side. I have striven in vain +to extinguish it." + +With the stern coolness which formed the basis of his character, Brian +de Bois-Guilbert communicated this hideous intelligence, which was not +so calmly received by his astonished comrade. + +"Saints of Paradise!" said De Bracy; "what is to be done?" + +"Lead thy men down," said the Templar, "as if to a sally; throw the +postern gate open. There are but two men who occupy the float, fling +them into the moat, push across for the barbican. I will charge from +the main gate, and attack the barbican on the outside; and if we can +regain that post, be assured we shall defend ourselves until we are +relieved, or at least till they grant us fair quarter." + +"It is well thought upon," said De Bracy; "I will play my part. +Templar, thou wilt not fail me?" + +"Hand and glove, I will not!" said Bois-Guilbert. "But haste thee, in +the name of God!" + +De Bracy hastily drew his men together, and rushed down to the postern +gate, which he caused instantly to be thrown open. But scarce was this +done ere the portentous strength of the Black Knight forced his way +inward in despite of De Bracy and his followers. Two of the foremost +instantly fell, and the rest gave way notwithstanding all their +leader's efforts to stop them. + +"Dogs!" said De Bracy, "will ye let _two_ men win our only pass for +safety?" + +"He is the devil!" said a veteran man-at-arms, bearing back from the +blows of their sable antagonist. + +"And if he be the devil," replied De Bracy, "would you fly from him +into the mouth of hell? The castle burns behind us, villains!--let +despair give you courage, or let me forward! I will cope with this +champion myself." + +And well and chivalrous did De Bracy that day maintain the fame he had +acquired in the civil wars of that dreadful period. The vaulted passage +to which the postern gave entrance, and in which these two redoubted +champions were now fighting hand to hand, rung with the furious blows +which they dealt each other, De Bracy with his sword, the Black Knight +with his ponderous axe. + +At length the Norman received a blow which, though its force was partly +parried by his shield, for otherwise never more would De Bracy have +again moved limb, descended yet with such violence on his crest that he +measured his length on the paved floor. + +"Yield thee, De Bracy," said the Black Champion, stooping over him, and +holding against the bars of his helmet the fatal poniard with which the +knights despatched their enemies, and which was called the dagger of +mercy--"Yield thee, Maurice De Bracy, rescue or no rescue, or thou art +but a dead man." + +"I will not yield," replied De Bracy, faintly, "to an unknown +conqueror. Tell me thy name or work thy pleasure on me; it shall never +be said that Maurice De Bracy was prisoner to a nameless churl." + +The Black Knight whispered something into the ear of the vanquished. +[Footnote: The Black Knight is Richard the Lion-Hearted, king of +England, who has returned from the Crusades to reclaim his throne from +his usurping brother.] + +"I yield me to be true prisoner, rescue or no rescue," answered the +Norman, exchanging his tone of determined obstinacy for one of deep +though sullen submission. + +"Go to the barbican," said the victor, in a tone of authority, "and +there wait my further orders." + +"Yet first let me say," said De Bracy, "what it imports thee to know. +Wilfred of Ivanhoe is wounded and a prisoner, and will perish in the +burning castle without present help." + +"Wilfred of Ivanhoe!" exclaimed the Black Knight--"prisoner, and +perish! The life of every man in the castle shall answer it if a hair +of his head be singed. Show me his chamber!" + +"Ascend yonder winding stair," said De Bracy; "it leads to his +apartment. Wilt thou not accept my guidance?" he added in a submissive +voice. + +"No. To the barbican, and there wait my orders, I trust thee not, De +Bracy." + +During this combat and the brief conversation which ensued, Cedric, at +the head of a body of men, had pushed across the bridge as soon as they +saw the postern open, and drove back the dispirited and despairing +followers of De Bracy, of whom some asked quarter, some offered vain +resistance, and the greater part fled toward the courtyard. + +De Bracy himself arose from the ground, and cast a sorrowful glance +after his conqueror. "He trusts me not!" he repeated; "but have I +deserved his trust?" + +He then lifted his sword from the floor, took off his helmet in token +of submission, and, going to the barbican, gave up his sword to +Locksley, whom he met by the way. + +As the fire augmented, symptoms of it became soon apparent in the +chamber where Ivanhoe was watched and tended by the Jewess Rebecca. He +had been awakened from his brief slumber by the noise of the battle; +and his attendant, who had, at his anxious desire, again placed herself +at the window to watch and report to him the fate of the attack, was +for some time prevented from observing either by the increase of the +smouldering and stifling vapor. At length the volumes of smoke which +rolled into the apartment, the cries for water, which were heard even +above the din of the battle, made them sensible of the progress of this +new danger. + +"The castle burns," said Rebecca--"it burns! What can we do to save +ourselves?" + +"Fly, Rebecca, and save thine own life," said Ivanhoe, "for no human +aid can avail me." + +"I had not found thee, Wilfred," said the Black Knight, who at that +instant entered the apartment, "but for thy shouts." + +And seizing upon Ivanhoe, he bore him with him to the postern, and +having there delivered his burden to the care of two yeomen, again +entered the castle to assist in the rescue of the other prisoners. + +One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from +window and shot-hole. But in other parts the great thickness of the +walls and the vaulted roofs of the apartments resisted the progress of +the flames, and there the rage of man still triumphed, as the scarce +more dreadful element held mastery elsewhere; for the besiegers pursued +the defenders of the castle from chamber to chamber, and satiated in +their blood the vengeance which had long animated them against the +soldiers of the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of the garrison resisted to +the uttermost; few of them asked quarter; none received it. The air was +filled with groans and clashing of arms; the floors were slippery with +the blood of despairing and expiring wretches. + +Through this scene of confusion, Cedric rushed, in quest of Rowena, +while the faithful Gurth, following him closely through the _mêlée_, +neglected his own safety while he strove to avert the blows that were +aimed at his master. The noble Saxon was so fortunate as to reach his +ward's apartment just as she had abandoned all hope of safety, and, with +a crucifix clasped in agony to her bosom, sat in expectation of instant +death. He committed her to the charge of Gurth, to be conducted in +safety to the barbican, the road to which was now cleared of the enemy, +and not yet interrupted by the flames. This accomplished, the loyal +Cedric hastened in quest of his friend Athelstane, determined, at every +risk to himself, to save that last scion of Saxon royalty. But ere +Cedric penetrated as far as the old hall In which he had himself been a +prisoner, the inventive genius of Wamba the Jester had procured +liberation for himself and his companion in adversity. + +When the noise of the conflict announced that it was at the hottest, +the Jester began to shout, with the utmost power of his lungs, "Saint +George and the dragon! Bonny Saint George for merry England! The castle +is won!" And these sounds he rendered yet more fearful by banging +against each other two or three pieces of rusty armor which lay +scattered around the hall. + +A guard, which had been stationed in the outer or ante-room, and whose +spirits were already in a state of alarm, took fright at Wamba's +clamor, and, leaving the door open behind them, ran to tell the Templar +that foemen had entered the old hall. Meantime the prisoners found no +difficulty in making their escape into the ante-room, and from thence +into the court of the castle, which was now the last scene of contest. +Here sat the fierce Templar, mounted on horseback, surrounded by +several of the garrison both on horse and foot, who had united their +strength to that of this renowned leader, in order to secure the last +chance of safety and retreat which remained to them. The drawbridge had +been lowered by his orders, but the passage was beset; for the archers, +who had hitherto only annoyed the castle on that side by their +missiles, no sooner saw the flames breaking out, and the bridge +lowered, than they thronged to the entrance, as well to prevent the +escape of the garrison as to secure their own share of booty ere the +castle should be burned down. On the other hand, a party of the +besiegers, who had entered by the postern, were now issuing out into +the courtyard, and attacking with fury the remnant of the defenders, +who were thus assaulted on both sides at once. Animated, however, by +despair, and supported by the example of their indomitable leader, the +remaining soldiers of the castle fought with the utmost valor; and, +being well armed, succeeded more than once in driving back the +assailants, though much inferior in numbers. + +Athelstane, who was slothful, but not cowardly, beheld the Templar. + +"By the soul of Saint Edward," he said, "yonder over-proud knight shall +die by my hand!" + +"Think what you do!" cried Wamba; "hasty hand catches frog for fish. Ye +may be leader, but I will be no follower; no bones of mine shall be +broken. And you without armor too! Bethink you, silk bonnet never kept +out steel blade. Nay, then, if wilful will to water, wilful must +drench. _Deus vobiscum_ [Footnote: _Deus vobiscum_ means _God be with +you_] most doughty Athelstane!" he concluded, loosening the hold which +he had hitherto kept upon the Saxon's tunic. + +To snatch a mace from the pavement, on which it lay beside one whose +dying gasp had just relinquished it, to rush on the Templar's band, and +to strike in quick succession to the right and left, levelling a +warrior at each blow, was, for Athelstane's great strength, now +animated with unusual fury, but the work of a single moment; he was +soon within two yards of Bois-Guilbert, whom he defied in his loudest +tone. + +"Turn, false-hearted Templar! turn, limb of a band of murdering and +hypocritical robbers!" + +"Dog!" said the Templar, grinding his teeth, "I will teach thee to +blaspheme the holy order of the Temple of Zion;" and with these words, +half-wheeling his steed, he made a demi-courbette toward the Saxon, and +rising in the stirrups, so as to take full advantage of the descent of +the horse, he discharged a fearful blow upon the head of Athelstane. + +"Well," said Wamba, "that silken bonnet keeps out no steel blade!" So +trenchant was the Templar's weapon, that it shore asunder, as it had +been a willow-twig, the tough and plaited handle of the mace, which the +ill-fated Saxon reared to parry the blow, and, descending on his head, +levelled him with the earth. + +"_Ha! Beau-seant!_" exclaimed Bois-Guilbert, "thus be it to the +maligners of the Temple knights!" Taking advantage of the dismay which +was spread by the fall of Athelstane, and calling aloud, "Those who +would save themselves, follow me!" he pushed across the drawbridge, +dispersing the archers who would have intercepted them. He was followed +by his Saracens, and some five or six men-at-arms, who had mounted +their horses. The Templar's retreat was rendered perilous by the +numbers of arrows shot off at him and his party; but this did not +prevent him from galloping round to the barbican, of which, according +to his previous plan, he supposed it possible De Bracy might have been +in possession. + +"De Bracy! De Bracy!" he shouted, "art thou there?" + +"I am here," replied De Bracy, "but I am a prisoner." + +"Can I rescue thee?" cried Bois-Guilbert. + +"No," replied De Bracy; "I have rendered me, rescue or no rescue. I +will be true prisoner. Save thyself; there are hawks abroad. Put the +seas betwixt you and England; I dare not say more." + +"Well," answered the Templar, "an thou wilt tarry there, remember I +have redeemed word and glove. Be the hawks where they will, methinks +the walls of the preceptory of Templestowe will be cover sufficient, +and thither will I, like heron to her haunt." + +Having thus spoken, he galloped off with his followers. + +Those of the castle who had not gotten to horse, still continued to +fight desperately with the besiegers, after the departure of the +Templar, but rather in despair of quarter than that they entertained +any hope of escape. The fire was spreading rapidly through all parts of +the castle, when Ulrica, who had first kindled it, appeared on a +turret, in the guise of one of the ancient furies, yelling forth a war- +song, such as was of yore raised on the field of battle by the scalds +of the yet heathen Saxons. Her long dishevelled gray hair flew back +from her uncovered head; the inebriating delight of gratified vengeance +contended in her eyes with the fire of insanity; and she brandished the +distaff which she held in her hand, as if she had been one of the Fatal +Sisters who spin and abridge the thread of human life. + +The towering flames had now surmounted every obstruction, and rose to +the evening skies one huge and burning beacon, seen far and wide +through the adjacent country. Tower after tower crashed down, with +blazing roof and rafter; and the combatants were driven from the +courtyard. The vanquished, of whom very few remained, scattered and +escaped into the neighboring wood. The victors, assembling in large +bands, gazed with wonder, not unmixed with fear, upon the flames, in +which their own ranks and arms glanced dusky red. The maniac figure of +the Saxon Ulrica was for a long time visible on the lofty stand she had +chosen, tossing her arms abroad with wild exultation, as if she reigned +empress of the conflagration which she had raised. At length, with a +terrific crash, the whole turret gave way, and she perished in the +flames which had consumed her tyrant. An awful pause of horror silenced +each murmur of the armed spectators, who, for the space of several +minutes, stirred not a finger, save to sign the cross. The voice of +Locksley was then heard--"Shout, yeomen! the den of tyrants is no more! +Let each bring his spoil to our chosen place of rendezvous at the +trysting-trees in the Harthill Walk; for there at break of day will we +make just partition among our own bands, together with our worthy +allies in this great deed of vengeance." + + + + +THE DEATH OF HECTOR + + +_From_ HOMER'S ILIAD +[Footnote: One of the greatest poems that has ever been written is the +_Iliad,_ an epic of great length dealing with the siege of Troy. The +author is generally considered to be the old Greek poet and singer +Homer. although some authorities believe that the poem was not all +written by any one man. + +The selection from the _Iliad_ which is given here is from the +translation by Alexander Pope. The passage has been abridged somewhat.] + +NOTE.--Of all the mythical or half-mythical events which the ancient +Greeks believed formed a part of their early history, there is none +about which more stories have grown up than the Trojan War. According +to the Greek belief, this struggle took place somewhere in the twelfth +century B. C., but it now seems entirely likely that there was really +no such contest, and that the stories told about it were but myths. + +To the marriage of Peleus with the sea-nymph Thetis, all the gods were +invited except Eris, or Discord, who, angered at the slight, determined +to have vengeance. She took, therefore, a most beautiful golden apple +on which were inscribed the words _For The Fairest,_ and tossed it +into the midst of the merry wedding party. Instantly a dispute arose, +Juno, queen of the gods, Minerva, goddess of wisdom, and Venus, goddess +of love and beauty, each claiming the fruit. Finally it was decided to +leave the choice to an impartial judge, and Paris, son of Priam, the +old king of Troy, was chosen. + +Paris was utterly ignorant of the fact that he was the son of the king, +having been banished from his home in his infancy because a prophecy +had foretold that he should bring about the destruction of his native +city. Rescued and brought up by a shepherd, he lived a simple +shepherd's life on Mount Ida. + +When the three radiant goddesses stood before him he was overcome with +the difficulty of his task, and each of the three attempted to help him +out by offering a bribe. Juno offered prosperity through life, Minerva +wisdom and influence, but Venus, smiling slyly, promised him the love +of the most beautiful woman in the world. Moved not by this bribe, but +by the unsurpassable beauty of Venus, Paris awarded her the apple, and +thus gained for himself and for his people the hatred of Juno and +Minerva. + +Later Paris was received back into his father's palace, and was sent on +an embassy to the home of Menelaus, king of Sparta, in Greece. While at +the home of Menelaus, Paris fell in love with Helen, the wife of his +host, the most beautiful woman in the world, and persuaded her to +return to Troy with him. Thoroughly roused, Menelaus sought the aid of +the other Grecian kings in his attempt to get back his wife and punish +the Trojans for the treachery of their prince, and a huge expedition +under the command of Agamemnon, brother of Menelaus, set out for Troy. +The Grecian army could make no immediate head against the Trojans, and +for nine years it encamped outside the city of Troy, attempting to +bring about its downfall. Battles and contests between single champions +were frequent, but neither side seemed able to win any permanent +victory. + +Achilles was the bravest and strongest of the Grecian heroes, and all +looked to him as the man through whom success must come. However, he +became angered at Agamemnon and withdrew from the contest, and victory +seemed about to fall to the Trojans. One day Patroclus, the friend and +kinsman of Achilles, distressed at the Greek fortunes, removed of +Achilles his armor, and at the head of Achilles's own men, went forth +to do battle with the Trojans. He was slain by Hector, the son of +Priam, the bravest of the Trojan defenders, and in anger at his +friend's death, Achilles returned to the conflict. The battle was waged +outside the city, and owing to the prowess of Achilles, matters looked +bad for the Trojans. + +Apollo, god of light, who favored the Trojans, took upon himself the +form of a Trojan warrior, and while appearing to flee, drew Achilles +after him, and thus allowed the Trojans to gain the shelter of the city +walls. The selection from the _Iliad_ given here begins just as +Apollo throws off his disguise and reveals his identity to Achilles. + + Thus to their bulwarks, smit with panic fear, + The herded Ilians* rush like driven deer: + There safe they wipe the briny drops away, + And drown in bowls the labors of the day. + Close to the walls, advancing o'er the fields + Beneath one roof of well-compacted shields, + March, bending on, the Greeks' embodied powers, + Far stretching in the shade of Trojan towers. + Great Hector singly stay'd: chain'd down by fate + There fix'd he stood before the Scaean gate; + Still his bold arms determined to employ, + The guardian still of long-defended Troy. + + *[Footnote: _Ilium_, or _Ilion_, was another name for Troy, + and the Ilians were Trojans.] + + Apollo now to tired Achilles turns + (The power confess'd in all his glory burns): + "And what," he cries, "has Peleus'* son in view, + With mortal speed a godhead to pursue? + For not to thee to know the gods' is given, + Unskill'd to trace the latent marks of heaven. + What boots thee now, that Troy forsook the plain? + Vain thy past labor, and thy present vain: + Safe in their walls are now her troops bestow'd, + While here thy frantic rage attacks a god." + + *[Footnote: Achilles was the son of Peleus and the sea-nymph Thetis.] + + The chief incensed--"Too partial god of day! + To check my conquests in the middle way: + How few in Ilion else had refuge found! + What gasping numbers now had bit the ground! + Thou robb'st me of a glory justly mine, + Powerful of godhead, and of fraud divine: + Mean fame, alas! for one of heavenly strain, + To cheat a mortal who repines in vain." + + Then to the city, terrible and strong, + With high and haughty steps he tower'd along, + So the proud courser, victor of the prize, + To the near goal with double ardor flies. + Him, as he blazing shot across the field, + The careful eyes of Priam* first beheld + Not half so dreadful rises to the sight + Through the thick gloom of some tempestuous night, + Orion's dog* (the year when autumn weighs), + And o'er the feebler stars exerts his rays; + Terrific glory! for his burning breath + Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and death, + So flamed his fiery mail. Then wept the sage: + He strikes his reverend head, now white with age; + He lifts his wither'd arms; obtests* the skies; + He calls his much-loved son with feeble cries: + The son, resolved Achilles' force to dare, + Full at the Scaean gates expects* the war; + While the sad father on the rampart stands, + And thus adjures him with extended hands: + + *[Footnote: Priam was the old king of Troy, father of Hector.] + *[Footnote: _Orion's dog_ means Sirius, the dog star, which was + believed by the ancients to be a star of very bad omen.] + *[Footnote: _Obtests_ means _entreats_.] + *[Footnote: _Expects_ here means _awaits_.] + + "Ah stay not, stay not! guardless and alone; + Hector! my loved, my dearest, bravest son! + Mehinks already I behold thee slain, + And stretch'd beneath that fury of the plain, + Implacable Achilles! might'st thou be + To all the gods no dearer than to me! + Thee, vultures wild should scatter round the shore, + And bloody dogs grow fiercer from thy gore. + How many valiant sons I late enjoy'd, + Valiant in vain! by thy cursed arm destroy'd, + Or, worse than slaughter'd, sold in distant isles + To shameful bondage, and unworthy toils, + What sorrows then must their sad mother know, + What anguish I? unutterable woe! + Yet less that anguish, less to her, to me, + Less to all Troy, if not deprived of thee. + Yet shun Achilles! enter yet the wall; + And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all! + Save thy dear life; or, if a soul so brave + Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save. + Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs; + While yet thy father feels the woes he bears, + Yet cursed with sense! a wretch, whom in his rage + (All trembling on the verge of helpless age) + Great Jove has placed, sad spectacle of pain! + The bitter dregs of fortune's cup to drain: + To fill the scenes of death his closing eyes, + And number all his days by miseries! + Who dies in youth and vigor, dies the best, + Struck through with wounds, all honest on the breast. + But when the Fates* in fulness of their rage + Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, + In dust the reverend lineaments deform, + And pour to dogs the life-blood scarcely warm: + This, this is misery! the last, the worst, + That man can feel! man, fated to be cursed!" + + *[Footnote: The Fates were thought of by the ancient peoples as + three old women, who spun the thread of human life, twisted it, + and cut it off whenever they thought it was long enough.] + + He said, and acting what no words could say, + Rent from his head the silver locks away. + With him the mournful mother bears a part; + Yet all her sorrow turn not Hector's heart. + The zone unbraced, her bosom she display'd; + And thus, fast-falling the salt tears, she said: + + "Have mercy on me, O my son! revere + The words of age; attend a parent's prayer! + If ever thee in these fond arms I press'd, + Or still'd thy infant clamors at this breast; + Ah, do not thus our helpless years forego, + But, by our walls secured, repel the foe." + + So they,* while down their cheeks the torrents roll; + But fix'd remains the purpose of his soul; + Resolved he stands, and with a fiery glance + Expects the hero's terrible advance. + So, roll'd up in his den, the swelling snake + Beholds the traveller approach the brake; + When fed with noxious herbs his turgid veins + Have gather'd half the poisons of the plains; + He burns, he stiffens with collected ire, + And his red eyeballs glare with living fire.* + Beneath a turret, on his shield reclined, + He stood, and question'd thus his mighty mind: + + *[Footnote: The word _spoke_ is omitted here.] + *[Footnote: Homer is famous for such comparisons as these. If you + ever come across the term "Homeric simile," you may know that it + means such a long, carefully worked out comparison as this.] + + "Where lies my way? to enter in the wall? + Honor and shame the ungenerous thought recall: + Shall proud Polydamas* before the gate + Proclaim, his counsels are obeyed too late, + Which timely follow'd but the former night + What numbers had been saved by Hector's flight? + That wise advice rejected with disdain, + I feel my folly in my people slain. + Methinks my suffering country's voice I hear, + But most her worthless sons insult my ear, + On my rash courage charge the chance of war, + And blame those virtues which they cannot share. + No--if I e'er return, return I must + Glorious, my country's terror laid in dust: + Or if I perish, let her see me fall + In field at least, and fighting for her wall." + + *[Footnote: Polydamas, a Trojan hero and a friend of Hector's, + had previously advised prudence and retreat within the wall.] + + Thus pondering, like a god the Greek drew nigh; + His dreadful plumage nodded from on high; + The Pelian* javelin, in his better hand, + Shot trembling rays that glitter'd o'er the land; + And on his breast the beamy splendor shone, + Like Jove's own lightning, o'er the rising sun. + As Hector sees, unusual terrors rise; + Struck by some god, he fears, recedes, and flies. + He leaves the gates, he leaves the wall behind: + Achilles follows like the winged wind. + Thus at the panting dove a falcon flies + (The swiftest racer of the liquid skies), + Just when he holds, or thinks he holds his prey, + Obliquely wheeling through the aerial way, + With open beak and shrilling cries he springs, + And aims his claws, and shoots upon his wings: + No less fore-right* the rapid chase they held, + One urged by fury, one by fear impell'd: + Now circling round the walls their course maintain, + Where the high watch-tower overlooks the plain; + Now where the fig-trees spread their umbrage broad, + (A wider compass), smoke along the road. + Next by Scamander's* double source they bound, + Where two famed fountains burst the parted ground; + This hot through scorching clefts is seen to rise, + With exhalations streaming to the skies; + That the green banks in summer's heat o'erflows, + Like crystal clear, and cold as winter snows: + Each gushing fount a marble cistern fills, + Whose polished bed receives the falling rills; + Where Trojan dames (ere yet alarm'd by Greece) + Wash'd their fair garments in the days of peace.* + By these they pass'd, one chasing, one in flight + The mighty fled, pursued by stronger might: + Swift was the course; no vulgar prize they play, + No vulgar victim must reward the day: + Such as in races crown the speedy strife: + The prize contended was great Hector's life. + + *[Footnote: _Pelian_ is an adjective formed from _Peleus_, + the name of the father of Achilles.] + *[Footnote: _Fore-right_ means _straight forward_.] + *[Footnote: The Scamander was a famous river that flowed near the + city of Troy. According to the _Iliad_, its source was two springs, + one a cold and one a hot spring.] + *[Footnote: It was not, in these very ancient times, thought beneath + the dignity of even a princess to wash her linen in some clear river + or spring.] + + As when some hero's funerals are decreed + In grateful honor of the mighty dead;* + Where high rewards the vigorous youth inflame + (Some golden tripod, or some lovely dame) + The panting coursers swiftly turn the goal, + And with them turns the raised spectator's soul: + Thus three times round the Trojan wall they fly. + The gazing gods lean forward from the sky.* + + *[Footnote: The favorite way, among the ancients, of doing honor to + a man after his death was to hold a sort of a funeral festival, + where contests in running, wrestling, boxing, and other feats of + strength and skill were held.] + *[Footnote: The gods play a very important part in the _Iliad_. + Sometimes, as here, they simply watch the struggle from their home + above Olympus; sometimes, as in the first lines of this selection, + they actually descend to the battlefield and take part in the + contest.] + + As through the forest, o'er the vale and lawn, + The well-breath'd beagle drives the flying fawn, + In vain he tries the covert of the brakes, + Or deep beneath the trembling thicket shakes; + Sure of the vapor* in the tainted dews, + The certain hound his various maze pursues. + Thus step by step, where'er the Trojan wheel'd, + There swift Achilles compass'd round the field. + Oft as to reach the Dardan* gates he bends, + And hopes the assistance of his pitying friends, + (Whose showering arrows, as he coursed below, + From the high turrets might oppress the foe), + So oft Achilles turns him to the plain: + He eyes the city, but he eyes in vain. + As men in slumbers seem with speedy pace, + One to pursue, and one to lead the chase, + Their sinking limbs the fancied course forsake, + Nor this can fly, nor that can overtake; + No less the laboring heroes pant and strain: + While that but flies, and this pursues in vain. + + *[Footnote: _Vapor_ here means _scent_.] + *[Footnote: _Dardan_ is an old word for _Trojan_.] + + What god, O Muse,* assisted Hector's force + With fate itself so long to hold the course? + Phoebus* it was; who, in his latest hour, + Endued his knees with strength, his nerves with power. + And great Achilles, lest some Greek's advance + Should snatch the glory from his lifted lance, + Sign'd to the troops to yield his foe the way, + And leave untouch'd the honors of the day. + + *[Footnote: The Muses were nine sister goddesses who inspired poetry + and music. No ancient Greek poet ever undertook to write without + first seeking the aid of the Muse who presided over the particular + kind of poetry that he was writing. Homer here addresses Calliope, + the Muse of epic poetry.] + *[Footnote: Phoebus is Apollo, whom at the opening of this selection + we found aiding Hector by misleading Achilles.] + + Jove* lifts the golden balances, that show + The fates of mortal men, and things below: + Here each contending hero's lot he tries, + And weighs, with equal hand, their destinies. + Low sinks the scale surcharged with Hector's fate; + Heavy with death it sinks, and hell receives the weight. + + *[Footnote: Jove, or Jupiter, was the king of gods and men.] + + Then Phoebus left him. Fierce Minerva* flies + To stern Pelides,* and triumphing, cries: + "O loved of Jove! this day our labors cease, + And conquest blazes with full beams on Greece. + Great Hector falls; that Hector famed so far, + Drunk with renown, insatiable of war, + Falls by thy hand, and mine! nor force, nor flight, + Shall more avail him, nor his god of light.* + See, where in vain he supplicates above, + Roll'd at the feet of unrelenting Jove; + Rest here: myself will lead the Trojan on, + And urge to meet the fate he cannot shun." + + *[Footnote: Minerva, goddess of wisdom, was the special protector of + the Greeks. Throughout the struggle she was anxious to take part + against the Trojans, but much of the time Jupiter would not let her + fight; he allowed her merely to advise.] + *[Footnote: The ending--_ides_ means _son of_. Thus Pelides means + _son of Peleus._] + *[Footnote: The _god of light_ was Apollo.] + + Her voice divine the chief with joyful mind + Obey'd; and rested, on his lance reclined, + While like Deïphobus* the martial dame + (Her face, her gesture, and her arms the same), + In show and aid, by hapless Hector's side + Approach'd, and greets him thus with voice belied: + + *[Footnote: Deïphobus was one of the brothers of Hector. Minerva + assumes his form, and deceives Hector into thinking that his + brother has come to aid him.] + + "Too long, O Hector! have I borne the sight + Of this distress, and sorrow'd in thy flight: + It fits us now a noble stand to make, + And here, as brothers, equal fates partake." + + Then he: "O prince! allied in blood and fame, + Dearer than all that own a brother's name; + Of all that Hecuba* to Priam bore, + Long tried, long loved: much loved, but honor'd more! + Since you, of all our numerous race alone + Defend my life, regardless of your own." + + *[Footnote: _Hecuba_ was the name of Hector's mother.] + + Again the goddess:* "Much my father's prayer, + And much my mother's, press'd me to forbear: + My friends embraced my knees, adjured my stay, + But stronger love impell'd, and I obey. + Come then, the glorious conflict let us try, + Let the steel sparkle, and the javelin fly; + Or let us stretch Achilles on the field, + Or to his arm our bloody trophies yield." + + *[Footnote: _Spoke_, or _said_, is understood here.] + + Fraudful she said; then swiftly march'd before: + The Dardan hero shuns his foe no more. + Sternly they met. The silence Hector broke: + His dreadful plumage nodded as he spoke; + + "Enough, O son of Peleus! Troy has view'd + Her walls thrice circled, and her chief pursued + But now some god within me bids me try + Thine, or my fate: I kill thee, or I die. + Yet on the verge of battle let us stay, + And for a moment's space suspend the day; + Let Heaven's high powers be call'd to arbitrate + The just conditions of this stern debate + (Eternal witnesses of all below, + And faithful guardians of the treasured vow)! + To them I swear; if, victor in the strife, + Jove by these hands shall shed thy noble life, + No vile dishonor shall thy corse pursue; + Stripp'd of its arms alone (the conqueror's due) + The rest to Greece uninjured I'll restore: + Now plight thy mutual oath, I ask no more."* + + *[Footnote: It meant more to an ancient Greek to have his body + given up to his family, that it might be buried with proper rite's, + than it does to a modern soldier, for the Greeks believed that the + soul could not find rest until the body was properly buried. + This makes the refusal of Achilles to agree to Hector's request + seem all the more cruel.] + + "Talk not of oaths" (the dreadful chief replies, + While anger flash'd from his disdainful eyes), + "Detested as thou art, and ought to be, + Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee: + Such pacts as lambs and rabid wolves combine, + Such leagues as men and furious lions join, + To such I call the gods! one constant state + Of lasting rancor and eternal hate: + + No thought but rage, and never-ceasing strife + Till death extinguish rage, and thought, and life. + Rouse then my forces this important hour, + Collect thy soul, and call forth all thy power. + No further subterfuge, no further chance; + Tis Pallas,* Pallas gives thee to my lance. + Each Grecian ghost, by thee deprived of breath, + Now hovers round, and calls thee to thy death." + + *[Footnote: _Pallas_ was another name for Minerva.] + + He spoke, and launch'd his javelin at the foe; + But Hector shunn'd the meditated blow: + He stoop'd, while o'er his head the flying spear, + Sang innocent, and spent its force in air. + Minerva watch'd it falling on the land, + Then drew, and gave to great Achilles' hand, + Unseen of Hector, who, elate with joy, + Now shakes his lance, and braves the dread of Troy. + + "The life you boasted to that javelin given, + Prince! you have miss'd. My fate depends on Heaven. + To thee, presumptuous as thou art, unknown, + Or* what must prove my fortune, or thy own. + Boasting is but an art, our fears to blind, + And with false terrors sink another's mind. + But know, whatever fate I am to try, + By no dishonest wound shall Hector die. + I shall not fall a fugitive at least, + My soul shall bravely issue from my breast. + But first, try thou my arm; and may this dart + End all my country's woes, deep buried in thy heart." + + *[Footnote: _Or_ is here used instead of _either_.] + + The weapon flew, its course unerring held, + Unerring, but the heavenly* shield repell'd + The mortal dart; resulting with a bound + From off the ringing orb it struck the ground. + Hector beheld his javelin fall in vain, + Nor other lance, nor other hope remain; + He calls Deïphobus, demands a spear-- + In vain, for no Deïphobus was there. + All comfortless he stands: then, with a sigh: + "'Tis so--Heaven wills it, and my hour is nigh! + I deem'd Deïphobus had heard my call, + But he secure lies guarded in the wall. + A god deceived me: Pallas, 'twas thy deed, + Death and black fate approach; 'tis I must bleed. + No refuge now, no succor from above. + Great Jove deserts me, and the son of Jove,* + Propitious once, and kind! Then welcome fate! + 'Tis true I perish, yet I perish great: + Yet in a mighty deed I shall expire, + Let future ages hear it, and admire!" + + *[Footnote: The armor of Achilles had been made for him by Vulcan, + god of fire.] + *[Footnote: This reference is to Apollo.] + +[Illustration: BEFORE HIS BREAST THE FLAMING SHIELD HE BEARS] + + Fierce, at the word, his weighty sword he drew, + And, all collected, on Achilles flew. + So Jove's bold bird,* high balanced in the air, + Stoops from the clouds to truss the quivering hare. + Nor less Achilles his fierce soul prepares: + Before his breast the flaming shield he bears + Refulgent orb! above his fourfold cone + The gilded horse-hair sparkled in the sun, + Nodding at every step (Vulcanian frame!): + And as he moved, his figure seem'd on flame. + As radiant Hesper* shines with keener light, + Far-beaming o'er the silver host of night, + When all the starry train emblaze the sphere: + So shone the point of great Achilles' spear. + In his right hand he waves the weapon round, + Eyes the whole man, and meditates the wound; + But the rich mail Patroclus* lately wore + Securely cased the warrior's body o'er. + One space at length he spies, to let in fate, + Where 'twixt the neck and throat the jointed plate + Gave entrance: through that penetrable part + Furious he drove the well-directed dart: + Nor pierced the windpipe yet, nor took the power + Of speech, unhappy! from thy dying hour. + Prone on the field the bleeding warrior lies, + While, thus triumphing, stern Achilles cries: + + *[Footnote: The eagle was sacred to Jove.] + *[Footnote: _Hesper_ was the old name for Venus, the evening star, + the brightest of the planets.] + *[Footnote: Patroclus was the friend of Achilles, whom Hector had + killed. Hector had, after the usual custom, taken possession of + the armor of Patroclus, which had originally belonged to Achilles.] + + "At last is Hector stretch'd upon the plain, + Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus slain: + Then, prince! you should have fear'd what now you feel; + Achilles absent was Achilles still: + Yet a short space the great avenger stayed, + Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid. + Peaceful he sleeps, with all our rites adorn'd, + Forever honor'd, and forever mourn'd: + While cast to all the rage of hostile power, + Thee birds shall mangle, and the dogs' devour." + + Then Hector, fainting at the approach of death: + By thy own soul! by those who gave thee breath! + By all the sacred prevalence of prayer; + Oh, leave me not for Grecian dogs to tear! + The common rites of sepulture bestow, + To soothe a father's and a mother's woe: + Yet their large gifts procure an urn at least, + And Hector's ashes in his county rest." + + "No, wretch accursed!" relentless he replies + (Flames, as he spoke, shot flashing from his eyes); + "Not those who gave me breath should bid me spare, + For all the sacred prevalence of prayer, + Would I myself the bloody banquet join! + So--to the dogs that carcase I resign. + Should Troy, to bribe me, bring forth all her store, + And giving thousands, offer thousands more; + Should Dardan Priam, and his weeping dame, + Drain their whole realm to buy one funeral flame: + Their Hector on the pile they should not see. + Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee." + + Then thus the chief his dying accents drew: + "Thy rage, implacable! too well I knew: + The Furies* that relentless breast have steel'd, + And cursed thee with a heart that cannot yield. + Yet think, a day will come, when fate's decree + And angry gods shall wreak this wrong on thee; + Phoebus and Paris shall avenge my fate, + And stretch thee here before the Scaean gate." + + *[Footnote: The Furies were three hideous sisters who sometimes + drove people mad with rage and remorse.] + + He ceased. The Fates suppress'd his laboring breath, + And his eyes stiffen'd at the hand of death; + To the dark realm the spirit wings its way + (The manly body left a load of clay), + And plaintive glides along the dreary coast, + A naked, wandering, melancholy ghost! + + Achilles, musing as he roll'd his eyes + O'er the dead hero, thus unheard, replies. + "Die thou the first! When Jove and heaven ordain, + I follow thee."--He said, and stripp'd the slain. + Then forcing backward from the gaping wound + The reeking javelin, cast it on the ground. + The thronging Greeks behold with wondering eyes + His manly beauty and superior size; + While some, ignobler, the great dead deface + With wounds ungenerous, or with taunts disgrace. + + "How changed that Hector, who like Jove of late + Sent lightning on our fleets, and scatter'd fate!" + + High o'er the slain the great Achilles stands, + Begirt with heroes and surrounding bands; + And thus aloud, while all the host attends: + "Princes and leaders! countrymen and friends! + Since now at length the powerful will of heaven + The dire destroyer to our arm has given, + Is not Troy fallen already? Haste, ye powers! + See, if already their deserted towers + Are left unmann'd; or if they yet retain + The souls of heroes, their great Hector slain. + But what is Troy, or glory what to me? + Or why reflects my mind on aught but thee, + Divine Patroclus! Death hath seal'd his eyes; + Unwept, unhonor'd, uninterr'd he lies! + Can his dear image from my soul depart, + Long as the vital spirit moves my heart? + If in the melancholy shades below, + The flames of friends and lovers cease to glow, + Yet mine shall sacred last; mine, undecay'd, + Burn on through death, and animate my shade. + Meanwhile, ye sons of Greece, in triumph bring + The corpse of Hector, and your paeans sing. + Be this the song, slow-moving toward the shore, + Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more." + + Then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred + (Unworthy of himself, and of the dead); + The nervous* ancles bored, his feet he bound + With thongs inserted through the double wound; + These fix'd up high behind the rolling wain, + His graceful head was trail'd along the plain. + Proud on his car the insulting victor stood, + And bore aloft his arms, distilling blood. + He smites the steeds; the rapid chariot flies; + The sudden clouds of circling dust arise. + Now lost is all that formidable air; + The face divine, and long-descending hair, + Purple the ground, and streak the sable sand; + Deform'd, dishonor'd, in his native land, + Given to the rage of an insulting throng, + And, in his parents' sight, now dragg'd along! + + *[Footnote: _Nervous_ here means _strong, sinewy_.] + + The mother first beheld with sad survey; + She rent her tresses, venerable gray, + And cast, far off, the regal veils away. + With piercing shrieks his bitter fate she moans, + While the sad father answers groans with groans. + Tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'erflow, + And the whole city wears one face of woe: + No less than if the rage of hostile fires, + From her foundations curling to her spires, + O'er the proud citadel at length should rise, + And the last blaze send Ilion to the skies. + + + + +THE WOODEN HORSE + +_From VERGIL'S AENEID_ + + +NOTE.--As the _Iliad_ is the greatest of Greek poems, so the _Aeneid_ is +the greatest of Latin poems. It was written by Vergil, who lived in the +first century B. C., and is one of the classics which every one who +studies Latin takes up. References to it are almost as frequent in +literature as are references to the _Iliad_, to which it is closely +related. The translation from which this selection of the _Wooden Horse_ +is taken is by John Conington. + +The _Iliad_ deals with the Trojan War (see introductory note to _Death +of Hector_), while the _Aeneid_ deals with the wanderings of a Trojan +hero after the fall of his city. Aeneas, from whom the _Aeneid_ takes +its name, was the son of Anchises and Venus, goddess of love, and was +one of the bravest of the Trojan heroes; indeed, he was second only to +Hector. + +When Troy was taken by the stratagem which Aeneas describes in this +selection, he set sail with numerous followers for Italy, where fate +had ordained that he should found a great nation. Juno, however, who +hated the Trojans, drove the hero from his course, and brought upon him +many sufferings. At last in his wanderings he came to the northern +shore of Africa, where he found a great city, Carthage. Dido, queen of +the Carthaginians, received Aeneas hospitably, and had prepared for him +a great feast, at the conclusion of which she besought him to relate to +her the story of the fall of Troy. Aeneas objected at first, as he +feared he could not endure the pain which the recital would give him, +but in the end he complied with her request. + +The following selection gives the account of the stratagem by which the +Greeks, after thirteen years' siege, finally took Troy. + + + Torn down by wars, + Long beating 'gainst Fate's dungeon-bars, + As year kept chasing year,* + The Danaan* chiefs, with cunning given. + By Pallas,* mountain-high to heaven + A giant horse uprear, + And with compacted beams of pine + The texture of its ribs entwine, + A vow for their return they feign: + So runs the tale, and spreads amain. + There in the monster's cavernous side + Huge frames of chosen chiefs they hide, + And steel-clad soldiery finds room + Within that death-producing womb. + + *[Footnote: The Greeks besieged Troy, or Ilium, for nine years + without making much head against it, and in the tenth year + succeeded in taking the city only by fraud, which Aeneas here + describes.] + *[Footnote: _Danaans_ is a poetical name for the Greeks.] + *[Footnote: Pallas was Minerva, daughter of Jupiter, and one of the + most powerful of the goddesses. She favored the Greeks, and longed + to take their part against the Trojans, but was forbidden by Jupiter + to aid them in any way except by advising them.] + + An isle there lies in Ilium's sight, + And Tenedos its name, + While Priam's fortune yet was bright, + Known for its wealth to fame: + Now all has dwindled to a bay, + Where ships in treacherous shelter stay. + +[Illustration: THE WOODEN HORSE] + + Thither they sail, and hide their host + Along its desolated coast. + We thought them to Mycenae* flown + And rescued Troy forgets to groan. + Wide stand the gates: what joy to go + The Dorian camp to see, + The land disburthened of the foe, + The shore from vessels free! + There pitched Thessalia's squadron, there + Achilles' tent was set: + There, drawn on land, their navies were, + And there the battle met. + Some on Minerva's offering gaze, + And view its bulk with strange amaze: + And first Thymoetes loudly calls + To drag the steed within our walls, + Or by suggestion from the foe, + Or Troy's ill fate had willed it so. + But Capys and the wiser kind + Surmised the snare that lurked behind: + To drown it in the whelming tide, + Or set the fire-brand to its side, + Their sentence is: or else to bore + Its caverns, and their depths explore. + In wild confusion sways the crowd: + Each takes his side and all are loud. + + *[Footnote: Mycenae was the capital city of Agamemnon, the leader + of the Greeks in the Trojan War.] + + Girt with a throng of Ilium's sons, + Down from the tower Laocoön runs, + And, "Wretched countrymen," he cries, + "What monstrous madness blinds your eyes? + Think you your enemies removed? + Come presents without wrong + From Danaans? have you thus approved + Ulysses,* known so long? + Perchance--who knows?--the bulk we see + Conceals a Grecian enemy, + Or 'tis a pile to o'erlook the town, + And pour from high invaders down, + Or fraud lurks somewhere to destroy: + Mistrust, mistrust it, men of Troy! + Whate'er it be, a Greek I fear, + Though presents in his hand he bear." + He spoke, and with his arm's full force + Straight at the belly of the horse + His mighty spear he cast: + Quivering it stood: the sharp rebound + Shook the huge monster; and a sound + Through all its caverns passed. + And then, had fate our weal designed + Nor given us a perverted mind, + Then had he moved us to deface + The Greeks' accursed lurking-place, + And Troy had been abiding still, + And Priam's tower yet crowned the hill. + + *[Footnote: Ulysses was the craftiest of the Greeks, the man to + whom they appealed when in need of wise advice.] + + Now Dardan* swains before the king + With clamorous demonstration bring, + His hands fast bound, a youth unknown, + Across their casual pathway thrown + By cunning purpose of his own, + If so his simulated speech + For Greece the walls of Troy might breach, + Nerved by strong courage to defy + The worst, and gain his end or die. + The curious Trojans round him flock, + With rival zeal a foe to mock. + Now listen while my tongue declares + The tale you ask of Danaan snares, + And gather from a single charge + Their catalogue of crimes at large. + There as he stands, confused, unarmed, + Like helpless innocence alarmed, + His wistful eyes on all sides throws, + And sees that all around are foes, + "What land," he cries, "what sea is left, + To hold a wretch of country reft, + Driven out from Greece while savage Troy + Demands my blood with clamorous joy?" + That anguish put our rage to flight, + And stayed each hand in act to smite: + We bid him name and race declare, + And say why Troy her prize should spare. + Then by degrees he laid aside + His fear, and presently replied: + + *[Footnote: The Trojans were called _Dardans_, from Dardanus, the + founder of Troy.] + + "Truth, gracious king, is all I speak, + And first I own my nation Greek: + No; Sinon may be Fortune's slave; + She shall not make him liar or knave, + If haply to your ears e'er came + Belidan Palamedes'* name, + Borne by the tearful voice of Fame, + Whom erst, by false impeachment sped, + Maligned because for peace he pled, + Greece gave to death, now mourns him dead,-- + His kinsman I, while yet a boy, + Sent by a needy sire to Troy. + While he yet stood in kingly state, + 'Mid brother kings in council great, + I too had power: but when he died, + By false Ulysses' spite belied + (The tale is known), from that proud height + I sank to wretchedness and night, + And brooded in my dolorous gloom + On that my guiltless kinsman's doom. + Not all in silence; no, I swore, + Should Fortune bring me home once more, + My vengeance should redress his fate, + And speech engendered cankerous hate. + Thence dates my fall: Ulysses thence + Still scared me with some fresh pretence, + With chance-dropt words the people fired, + Sought means of hurt, intrigued, conspired. + Nor did the glow of hatred cool, + Till, wielding Calchas* as his tool-- + But why a tedious tale repeat, + To stay you from your morsel sweet? + If all are equal, Greek and Greek, + Enough: your tardy vengeance wreak. + My death will Ithacus* delights, + And Atreus'* sons the boon requite." + + *[Footnote: It was Palamedes who induced Ulysses to join in the + expedition against Troy. Preferring to remain at home with his + wife Penelope and his infant son Telemachus, Ulysses pretended + madness, and Palamedes, when he came to beg for his aid, found + him plowing up the seashore and sowing it with salt. Palamedes + was quite certain that the madness was feigned, and to test it, + set Telemachus in front of the plow. By turning aside his plow, + Ulysses showed that he was really sane. Later Palamedes lost + favor with Grecian leaders because he urged them to give up the + struggle and return home.] + *[Footnote: Calchas was the most famous of the Grecian sooth-sayers + or prophets. They never began any important operations until + Calchas had first been consulted and had told them what the gods + willed.] + *[Footnote: _Ithacus_ is a name given to Ulysses, who was from + Ithaca.] + *[Footnote: The sons of Atreus were Agamemnon, leader of the + Grecians, and Menelaus, King of Sparta, the theft of whose wife, + Helen, was cause of the Trojan War.] + + We press, we yearn the truth to know, + Nor dream how doubly base our foe: + He, faltering still and overawed, + Takes up the unfinished web of fraud. + "Oft had we planned to leave your shore, + Nor tempt the weary conflict more. + O, had we done it! sea and sky + Scared us as oft, in act to fly: + But chiefly when completed stood + This horse, compact of maple wood, + Fierce thunders, pealing in our ears, + Proclaimed the turmoil of the spheres. + Perplexed, Eurypylus we send + To question what the fates portend, + And he from Phoebus'* awful shrine + Brings back the words of doom divine: + 'With blood ye pacified the gales, + E'en with a virgin slain,* + When first ye Danaans spread your sails, + The shores of Troy to gain: + With blood ye your return must buy: + A Greek must at the altar die.' + That sentence reached the public ear, + And bred the dull amaze of fear: + Through every heart a shudder ran, + 'Apollo's victim--who the man?' + Ulysses, turbulent and loud, + Drags Calchas forth before the crowd. + And questions what the immortals mean, + Which way these dubious beckonings lean: + E'en then were some discerned my foe, + And silent watch the coming blow. + Ten days the seer, with bated breath, + Restrained the utterance big with death: + O'erborne at last, the word agreed + He speaks, and destines me to bleed. + All gave a sigh, as men set free, + And hailed the doom, content to see + The bolt that threatened each alike + One solitary victim strike. + The death-day came: the priests prepare + Salt cakes, and fillets for my hair; + I fled, I own it, from the knife, + I broke my bands and ran for life, + And in a marish lay that night, + While they should sail, if sail they might. + No longer have I hope, ah me! + My ancient fatherland to see, + Or look on those my eyes desire, + My darling sons, my gray-haired sire: + Perhaps my butchers may requite + On their dear heads my traitorous flight, + And make their wretched lives atone + For this, the single crime I own. + O, by the gods, who all things view, + And know the false man from the true, + By sacred Faith, if Faith remain + With mortal men preserved from stain, + Show grace to innocence forlorn, + Show grace to woes unduly borne!" + + *[Footnote: Phoebus Apollo, god of the sun and of prophecy.] + *[Footnote: When the Greeks set out for Troy, their ships were + becalmed at Aulis, in Boeotia. Calchas consulted the signs and + declared that the delay was caused by the huntress-goddess Diana, + who was angry at Agamemnon for killing one of her sacred stags. + Only by the death of Iphigenia, daughter of Agamemnon, could the + wrathful goddess be placated. The maiden was sent for, but on her + arrival at Aulis she was slain by the priest at Diana's altar. + According to another version of the story, Iphigenia was not put + to death, but was conveyed by Diana to Tauris, where she served as + priestess in Diana's temple.] + + Moved by his tears, we let him live, + And pity crowns the boon we give: + King Priam bids unloose his cords, + And soothes the wretch with kindly words. + "Whoe'er you are, henceforth resign + All thought of Greece: be Troy's and mine: + Now tell me truth, for what intent + This fabric of the horse was meant; + An offering to your heavenly liege? + An engine for assault or siege?" + Then, schooled in all Pelasgian* shifts, + His unbound hands to heaven he lifts: + "Ye slumberless, inviolate fires, + And the dread awe your name inspires! + Ye murderous altars, which I fled! + Ye fillets that adorned my head! + Bear witness, and behold me free + To break my Grecian fealty; + To hate the Greeks, and bring to light + The counsels they would hide in night, + Unchecked by all that once could bind, + All claims of country or of kind. + Thou, Troy, remember ne'er to swerve, + Preserved thyself, thy faith preserve, + If true the story I relate, + If these, my prompt returns, be great. + + *[Footnote: _Pelasgian_ means _Grecian_. The name is derived from + that of Pelasgus, an early Greek hero. By their neighbors the + Greeks were regarded as a deceitful, double-dealing nation.] + + "The warlike hopes of Greece were stayed, + E'en from the first, on Pallas' aid: + But since Tydides,* impious man, + And foul Ulysses, born to plan, + Dragged with red hands, the sentry slain, + Her fateful image* from your fane, + Her chaste locks touched, and stained with gore + The virgin coronal she wore, + Thenceforth the tide of fortune changed, + And Greece grew weak, her queen* estranged + Nor dubious were the sig'ns of ill + That showed the goddess' altered will. + The image scarce in camp was set, + Out burst big drops of saltest sweat + O'er all her limbs: her eyes upraised + With minatory lightnings blazed; + And thrice untouched from earth she sprang + With quivering spear and buckler's clang. + 'Back o'er the ocean!' Calchas cries: + 'We shall not make Troy's town our prize, + Unless at Argos' sacred seat + Our former omens we repeat, + And bring once more the grace we brought + When first these shores our navy sought.' + So now for Greece they cross the wave, + Fresh blessings on their arms to crave, + Thence to return, so Calchas rules, + Unlocked for, ere your wonder cools. + Premonished first, this frame they planned + In your Palladium's stead to stand, + An image for an image given + To pacify offended Heaven. + But Calchas bade them rear it high + With timbers mounting to the sky, + That none might drag within the gate + This new Palladium of your state. + For, said he, if your hands profaned + The gift for Pallas' self ordained, + Dire havoc--grant, ye powers, that first + That fate be his!--on Troy should burst: + But if, in glad procession haled + By those your hands, your walls it scaled, + Then Asia should our homes invade, + And unborn captives mourn the raid." + + *[Footnote: Tydides was Diomedes, son of Tydeus. The termination + _-ides_ means _son of_; thus _Pelides_ is Achilles, son of Peleus.] + *[Footnote: There was in a temple of Troy an image of Minerva, or + Pallas, called the _palladium_, which was supposed to have fallen + from the sky. The Greeks learned of a prophecy which declared that + Troy could never be taken while the palladium remained within its + walls, and Ulysses and Diomedes were entrusted with the task of + stealing it. In disguise they entered the city one night, procured + the sacred image and bore it off to the Grecian camp.] + *[Footnote: Minerva, supposedly angered at the desecration of her + statue.] + + Such tale of pity, aptly feigned, + Our credence for the perjurer gained, + And tears, wrung out from fraudful eyes, + Made us, e'en us, a villain's prize, + 'Gainst whom not valiant Diomede, + Nor Peleus' Larissaean* seed, + Nor ten years' fighting could prevail, + Nor navies of a thousand sail. + + *[Footnote: Achilles. Larissa was a town in Thessaly, of which + Peleus, the father of Achilles, was king.] + +[Illustration: LAOCOÖN +_Statuary Group in The Vatican, Rome_] + + But ghastlier portents lay behind, + Our unprophetic souls to bind. + Laocoön, named as Neptune's priest, + Was offering up the victim beast, + When lo! from Tenedos--I quail, + E'en now, at telling of the tale-- + Two monstrous serpents stem the tide, + And shoreward through the stillness glide. + Amid the waves they rear their breasts, + And toss on high their sanguine crests: + The hind part coils along the deep, + And undulates with sinuous sweep. + The lashed spray echoes: now they reach + The inland belted by the beach, + And rolling bloodshot eyes of fire, + Dart their forked tongues, and hiss for ire. + We fly distraught: unswerving they + Toward Laocoön hold their way; + First round his two young sons they wreathe, + And grind their limbs with savage teeth: + Then, as with arms he comes to aid, + The wretched father they invade + And twine in giant folds: twice round + His stalwart waist their spires are wound, + Twice round his neck, while over all + Their heads and crests tower high and tall. + He strains his strength their knots to tear,* + While gore and slime his fillets smear, + And to the unregardful skies + Sends up his agonizing cries: + A wounded bull such moaning makes, + When from his neck the axe he shakes, + Ill-aimed, and from the altar breaks. + The twin destroyers take their flight + To Pallas' temple on the height; + There by the goddess' feet concealed + They lie, and nestle 'neath her shield. + At once through Ilium's hapless sons + A shock of feverous horror runs: + All in Laocoön's death-pangs read + The just requital of his deed, + Who dared to harm with impious stroke + Those ribs of consecrated oak. + "The image to its fane!" they cry: + "So soothe the offended deity." + Each in the labour claims his share: + The walls are breached, the town laid bare: + Wheels 'neath its feet are fixed to glide, + And round its neck stout ropes are tied: + So climbs our wall that shape of doom, + With battle quickening in its womb, + While youths and maidens sing glad songs, + And joy to touch the harness-thongs. + It comes, and, glancing terror down, + Sweeps through the bosom of the town. + O Ilium, city of my love! + O warlike home of powers above! + Four times 'twas on the threshold stayed: + Four times the armour clashed and brayed. + Yet on we press with passion blind, + All forethought blotted from our mind, + Till the dread monster we install + Within the temple's tower-built wall. + E'en then Cassandra's* prescient voice + Forewarned us of our fatal choice-- + That prescient voice, which Heaven decreed + No son of Troy should hear and heed. + We, careless souls, the city through, + With festal boughs the fanes bestrew, + And in such revelry employ + The last, last day should shine on Troy. + + *[Footnote: The death of Laocoön and his sons has always been a + favorite subject in art and in poetry. (See illustration.)] + *[Footnote: Cassandra was a daughter of Priam, king of Troy. She had + been loved by Apollo, who bestowed on her the gift of prophecy; but + she had angered him by failing to return his love, and he, unable + to take back the gift, decreed that her prophecies should never be + believed. All through the siege she had uttered her predictions and + always they proved true; but no one ever paid heed to her warnings.] + + Meantime Heaven shifts from light to gloom, + And night ascends from Ocean's womb, + Involving in her shadow broad + Earth, sky, and Myrmidonian* fraud: + And through the city, stretched at will, + Sleep the tired Trojans, and are still. + + *[Footnote: Here Myrmidonian means simply Grecian.] + + And now from Tenedos set free + The Greeks are sailing on the sea, + Bound for the shore where erst they lay, + Beneath the still moon's friendly ray: + When in a moment leaps to sight + On the king's ship the signal light, + And Sinon, screened by partial fate, + Unlocks the pine-wood prison's gate. + The horse its charge to air restores, + And forth the armed invasion pours. + Thessander,* Sthenelus, the first, + Slide down the rope: Ulysses curst, + Thoas and Acamas are there, + And great Pelides' youthful heir, + Machaon, Menelaus, last + Epeus, who the plot forecast. + They seize the city, buried deep + In floods of revelry and sleep, + Cut down the warders of the gates, + And introduce their banded mates.* + + *[Footnote: These are all Grecian heroes.] + *[Footnote: After the Greeks entered the gates the chief Trojan + citizens were put to death, and the city was set on fire, Aeneas, + with his little son and his aged father, escaped and took ship + for Italy, accompanied by a band of followers.] + + + + +ULYSSES + +_Adapted From_ THE ODYSSEY + + +NOTE.--The _Odyssey_ is one of the most famous of the old Greek +poems, one that is still read and enjoyed by students of the Greek +language, and one that in its translations has given pleasure to many +English and American readers. Its influence on the works of our best +writers has been remarkable, and everybody wishes to know something +about it. + +It is in twenty-four books or parts, and tells of the wanderings and +adventures of the Greek hero, Ulysses, king of Ithaca, after the Trojan +War. His wanderings lasted for ten years, but most of the _Odyssey_ is +taken up with the events that happened in the last few weeks of this +time, during which period, at intervals, Ulysses himself tells the story +of his wanderings, winning everywhere the sympathy and admiration of +those to whom he tells it. + +It is customary to speak of the _Odyssey_ as one of Homer's poems, but +the probability is that it was written at different times by different +people, and at a date later than that at which the _Iliad_ was written. +One of the standard translations of the _Odyssey_ is that of Alexander +Pope, which is followed in this story. The tale has of necessity been +very much abridged; the details of the journeyings of Ulysses are +omitted entirely, and the emphasis is placed on his return home. + + * * * * * + +When Ulysses departed to join in the Trojan War, he left his wife +Penelope and his young son Telemachus at home. He was one of the +foremost of the Greek chieftains in the Trojan War, and his deeds are a +prominent part of the story in the _Iliad_. + +After Ulysses had been many years absent, he was thought by most of his +friends to be dead, and many disorders grew up in his kingdom. Most +disturbing of all was the fact that many wicked and treacherous men +came about Penelope as suitors for her hand, claiming that there was no +reason why she should not marry, as her husband had not been heard of +since the Trojan War, and had undoubtedly long since died. Both +Penelope and Telemachus still clung to the thought that Ulysses might +be living, and the mother would by no means consent to taking another +husband. + +At this time the gods in council decided that Ulysses should be brought +back home, and accordingly Telemachus was inspired to travel in search +of his father. Hoping that his journey might be successful, Telemachus, +guided by Minerva in the shape of the wise old Mentor, set out on his +long and trying journey. In time he learned that his father was still +living, and had been held for many years in the Island of Calypso. +During the absence of Telemachus, the suitors of Penelope planned to +destroy him on his voyage home, but failed to accomplish their purpose. + +After much persuasion by the gods, Calypso was induced to release +Ulysses, and he, building a boat with his own hands, set out on his +homeward journey, but in a terrible tempest was shipwrecked and barely +escaped with his life, being rescued by a princess to whom he tells the +story of his journeyings. + +He told how at one time he was in a ship driven by a tempest far from +shore, and finally landed upon the flowery coast of the land of Lotus, +where he found a hospitable race who lived a lazy, happy life, eating +and drinking the things which nature provided them. So divinely sweet +were the lotus leaves that whosoever ate them were willing to quit his +house, his country and his friends, and wish for no other home than the +enchanting land where the lotus plant flourished. + +Denying themselves the pleasure of tasting the lotus leaves, Ulysses +and his men sailed from the coast to the land of Cyclops, where they +were appalled by the sight of a shepherd, enormous in size, unlike any +human being, for he had but one eye, and that a huge one in the center +of his forehead. Ulysses with a few of his men landed upon the shore +and visited the giant's cavern home. While they were inspecting this +strange place, the monster returned, bearing on his back half a forest +which he cast down at the door, where it thundered as it fell. After +building a huge fire, the giant entered the cavern, and in a voice of +thunder asked Ulysses who he was, and why he came to this shore. +Ulysses explained, and for an answer the huge Cyclops seized two of the +followers of Ulysses, dashed them against the stony floor, and like a +mountain beast devoured them utterly, draining the blood from their +bodies and sucking the marrow from their bones. + +[Illustration: ULYSSES OUTWITTED THE CYCLOPS] + +After satisfying his hunger, the monster slept upon the ground, and all +night long Ulysses and his followers lay in deadly terror. The next day +Ulysses gave the giant wine, and when he was sleeping in a drunken +stupor, the Greek hero took a green stick, and heating it until it +burnt and sparkled a fiery red, thrust its flaming point into the only +eye the Cyclops had. + +Raging with pain, the monster stumbled about the cave trying without +success to find Ulysses and his followers, though he did discover the +door, and stationed himself there to prevent their escape. In the cave +were the great sheep that made the herd of the Cyclops, and throwing +themselves beneath the animals and clinging to their wool, Ulysses and +his followers escaped through the door, while the blind giant was +touching his sheep one by one to see that nothing but sheep passed out. +Soon the hero and his men were safe on board the ship, though they +narrowly escaped destruction from a big boulder that the giant threw +into the sea when he discovered that his victims had made their escape. + +Aeolus, ruler of the winds, anxious to aid Ulysses, gave him prosperous +winds and tied the treacherous winds up in a bag, but some of the +curious mariners untied the bag, and the conflicting winds escaping, +destroyed several of the ships and threw Ulysses and the survivors upon +the island of Circe. + +This famed enchantress, following her usual custom, turned the +followers of Ulysses into swine, but he, aided by Mercury, released +them from their enchantment. + +After a year's stay on this island, he was urged by Circe to make a +descent into the Infernal Regions, where he saw the tortures inflicted +upon the wicked who had died before him. On his return he was sent upon +another voyage, where he met the Sirens, who lured some of his men to +destruction by their charming songs; but Ulysses himself escaped by +having himself chained to the mast. He sailed between Scylla and +Charybdis safely, though he lost some of his men in the terrible +passage. + +After Ulysses told in full his story, the kindly princess put him on +board a magic ship and sent him to Ithaca, where he was placed on shore +with all his treasures, though he did not at first know where he was. + +However, he finally learned that he was home again, and visited the +house of a favorite servant, who gave him a full account of what had +happened during his absence. + +In the meantime Telemachus returned home, having learned that his +father was still living; and, directed by the gods, he went to the +house of the same old servant with whom Ulysses had taken refuge. That +night the father and son recognized each other, and after a joyful +reunion they lay down to rest, having decided that in the morning +Telemachus should repair to the palace and tell Penelope that her +husband was still alive, but leave her in ignorance of the fact that he +was near at hand. + +In the rosy light of the morning the young prince hastened across the +dewy lawn on his way to his mother. When he reached the palace he +propped his spear against the wall, leaped like a lion over the +threshold, hastened with running steps across the hall, and threw +himself into the arms of his loving mother. The passionate joy of their +meeting was shadowed only by the story that Telemachus had to tell, yet +the story was lightened somewhat by the knowledge that Ulysses still +lived, though under enchantment, and might in time be able to return to +his kingdom. + +Penelope, knowing that her husband was still living, became more than +ever incensed at the outrageous conduct of the suitors, who had +quartered themselves in her palace and were living in luxury and vice. +However, even with Telemachus at her side, it was impossible to drive +out the powerful men, so that she felt compelled still to endure their +unwelcome presence. + +According to the plans made by Ulysses and his son, the former about +this time started for the palace, clothed like a beggar, with a scrip +flung over his shoulders around his patched and ragged gown. Leaning +upon a rude staff which his old servant had given him, Ulysses and his +servant passed along the road and descended into the town. + +On the way they met a most wicked and treacherous former servant of +Ulysses, who, now risen to power, insulted the beggared chief by word +and blow. It was with difficulty that Ulysses restrained himself, for +all his mighty rage was roused, and he swung his staff as though to +strike his insulter dead. However, remembering what was at stake, he +conquered himself and endured the insults. + +As they drew near the gates of the city, they saw lying in the filth of +the gutter an old, decrepit dog, who had been the pet and joy of +Ulysses before he left for war. Argus was now grown old and feeble, and +had been kicked from the palace by the cruel servants and left to +starve in the street. No sooner, however, had the chieftain approached +than Argus knew his master, and dragged himself, panting, to kiss the +feet of the returned hero. + +Ulysses, recognizing the dog, exclaimed, "See this noble beast lying +abandoned in the gutter! Once he was vigorous, bold and young; swift as +a stag, and strong as a lion. Now he lies dying from hunger. Surely his +age deserves some care. Was he merely a worthless beauty, and is he +despised for that reason?" + +"No," replied the servant, "he once belonged to Ulysses, but since the +chieftain left his home, nothing restrains the servants; and where riot +reigns there can be no humanity. + +"Whenever man makes himself a slave, half his worth is taken away." + +While they were speaking, Argus raised his head, took one last look at +his master, and closed his eyes forever. + +A moment later, Ulysses, a despicable figure, old and poor, in ragged +clothing, trembling and leaning on his staff, rested against the pillar +of his own gate. Telemachus was the first to see his father, and +ordered that food should be given the poor beggar, and that he should +be invited to enter the hall and share the comforts of the palace. The +experiences of the poor old mendicant in the palace were more trying +than any that he had had, for he met with nothing but insults and abuse +from the assembled suitors, in spite of the fact that Telemachus more +than once urged them to be generous, and himself set the example +repeatedly. + +Once only did Ulysses give way to his rage, and that was when another +beggar insulted him and challenged him to fight. Then Ulysses spread +his broad shoulders, braced his limbs, expanded his ample chest, and +struck but once with his powerful right arm. Although he expended but +half his strength, the blow crushed the jaw-bone of the beggar, and +felled him, stunned and quivering, to the ground, while from his mouth +and nostrils poured a stream of purple blood. + +This happened in the street before the palace, and Ulysses, taking no +notice of his fallen foe, flung his tattered scrip across his shoulder, +knotted the thong around his waist, and returned to the palace, where +the nobles joined in sarcastic compliments on his strength. + +While Ulysses hung about the palace in beggar's garb, only one person +recognized him, and that was his old nurse Euryclea, who saw upon his +knee a scar, that came from a wound which he had received when a youth +in hunting a wild boar. Then the old nurse had tended the wound, and +now she knew at once her fallen master. With difficulty Ulysses +restrained her joy, and urged her to keep his secret till the time came +to disclose it. + +While these things were happening, the suitors grew more and more +insistent, and at a great banquet in the palace they became so riotous +that both Penelope and Telemachus knew that something must be done. + +Ulysses was subjected to continual insult, and the suitors, quarreling +among themselves, insisted that Penelope should give them some definite +answer. + +Finally the queen and her son perfected a plan and announced to the +suitors that at a certain time after the feast the queen would decide +which she would accept. Penelope then went to the inmost room of the +palace and unlocked the door where the royal treasures lay, and taking +from among them the great bow which Ulysses had carried, and the quiver +that contained his arrows, she brought them down to the hall. This bow +was a gift to Ulysses in his youth, and the warrior had used it in many +a fierce combat, but so powerful was it that none but himself could +bend it. + +Taking the bow before the assembled suitors, the majestic queen spoke +as follows: "You make vain pretense that you love me; you speak of me +as a prize, and you say you seek me as a wife. Now hear the conditions +under which I will decide, and commence the trial. Whichever one of you +shall first bend the bow of Ulysses, and send a fleet arrow through the +eyes of twelve axes truly arranged, him will I follow, leaving this +home which has been my delight and which now has come to be but a +torture to me." + +She spoke carefully, and at the same time showed the rings and the bow. +But as she touched the powerful weapon, thoughts of her lost king +filled her eyes with tears. + +The suitors did not like the plan Penelope proposed, but saw no other +way to gratify their hopes. Although they objected, Telemachus insisted +that Ulysses should be present at the trial, and that he himself should +be the first to make the attempt, for he said, "If I win, then will my +mother go with me." + +Three times Telemachus twanged the bow, and three times his arrows sped +along the hall, each time missing by a narrower margin the difficult +mark. As he was about to make the fourth attempt, Ulysses signaled him +to stop, feeling sure that on this trial the young man would succeed. + +Disappointed and grieving, Telemachus obeyed, saying, "I have failed, +but it is because of my youth and not my weakness. So let the suitors +try." + +The first to make the attempt was Leiodes, a blameless priest, the best +of all the suitors, the only one in the throng who was a decent man, +and who detested the conduct of the wretches who hung about the queen. +However strong his heart, his feeble fingers were not able to bend the +bow, and in despair he passed it on to the next. One after another the +suitors tried and failed, till only two remained; but they were the +mightiest and the best. + +At this point Ulysses, still in disguise, summoned two of his old +servants, the masters of his herds and flocks, and with them passed out +of the banquet hall. Once by themselves, the king made himself known, +and in a moment both the men were at his feet, embracing his knees and +shedding tears of joy and gratitude. + +Without delay, Ulysses spoke, "We have no time now to indulge in +unseemly joy. Our foes are too numerous and too fierce, and almost +before we know it some one may betray us. Let us return to the banquet +separately; I first, and you following me a few moments later. Tell no +one who I am, but when the remaining suitors refuse to allow me to make +the attempt with the bow, you, Eumaeus, bring the instrument at once. +In the meantime lock every gate of the palace, and set some woman to +lock each door within and leave it locked, no matter what sound of +arms, or shouts, or dying groans they hear. You, Philaetius, guard the +main gate to the palace; guard it faithfully with your life!" + +When Ulysses was within, he spoke to the two powerful suitors as +follows: "Take my advice, noble lords, let the bow rest in peace this +day, and tomorrow dispute for the prize. But as you delay the contest, +let me take the bow for one moment and prove to you that I whom you +despise may yet have in my feeble arm some of its ancient force." + +Antinous, with lightning flashing from his eyes, yet with some terror +at the bold carriage of the beggar, cried, "Is it not enough, O +miserable guest, that you should sit in our presence, should be +admitted among princes? Remember how the Centaur was treated; dragged +from the hall, his nose shortened and his ears slit. Such a fate may be +yours." + +But the queen interfered, saying, "It is impious to shame this stranger +guest who comes at the request of our son Telemachus. Who knows but +that he may have strength to draw the bow? Virtue is the path to +praise; wrong and oppression can bring no renown. From his bearing, and +from his face and his stature, we know our guest can have descended +from no vulgar race. Let him try the bow, and if he wins he shall have +a new sword, a spear, a rich cloak, fine embroidered sandals, and a +safe conveyance to his home." + +"O royal mother," interrupted Telemachus, "grant me a son's just right! +No one but a Grecian prince has power to grant or deny the use of this +bow. My father's arms have descended to me alone. I beg you, O queen, +return to your household tasks and leave us here together. The bow and +the arms of chivalry belong to man alone, and most of all these belong +to me." + +With admiration for her manly son, Penelope left the banquet hall and +returned to her chamber, where she sat revolving in her mind her son's +words, while thoughts of his noble father brought abundant tears to her +eyes. + +In the hall was riot, noise, and wild uproar as Euinaeus started to +place the bow in the hand of Ulysses. + +"Go back to thy den, far away from the society of men, or we will throw +you to your dogs!" cried the crowd of disappointed suitors to the +trembling servant. + +"Slight their empty words, listen not to them," shouted Telemachus. +"Are you so foolish as to think you can please so many lords? If you +give not the bow to the suppliant, my hands shall drive you from the +land, and if I were strong enough I would expel this whole shoal of +lawless men." Thus encouraged, Euinaeus handed the great bow to the +king. + +In the meantime the gates had been closed, and Philaetius secured them +with strong cables, after which he returned silent to the banquet room, +and took his seat with his eyes upon his lord. + +In his hands Ulysses turned the bow on all sides, and viewed it over +and over, wondering if time had weakened it, or other injury had come +to it during his long absence. Snarling in anger, the suitors spoke +derisively, but the chieftain disdained reply, and continued with exact +eye to study every inch of his weapon. Then with ease he held the bow +aloft in one hand, and with the other tried its strength. It twanged +short and sharp like the shrill cry of a swallow. Every face paled, and +a general horror ran through all present, for from the skies the +lightning burst, and Jove thundered loudly on high. + +Then sitting as he was, Ulysses fitted an arrow to the string and drew +back, leveling his eye to every ring. Then with a mighty pull, he drew +back the bow and gave the arrow wing. Straight it left the string, and +straight it passed through every ring and struck the gate behind, +piercing even the solid wood through and through. + +[Illustration: ULYSSES GAVE THE ARROW WING ] + +"I have brought no shame to you," said Ulysses, turning to Telemachus, +"nor has my hand proved unfaithful to my aim. I have not lost my +ancient vigor, and ill did I deserve the disdain of these haughty +peers. Let them go and find comfort among themselves, if they can, in +music and banqueting." + +Even as Ulysses spoke, Telemachus girded on his shining sword, seized a +javelin, and took his stand at his father's side. + +From that moment Ulysses ceased to be the beggar, and stripped of his +rags he stood forth like a god, full before the faces of the astonished +suitors. He lifted his bow, and threw before his feet a rattling shower +of darts. + +"We have another game to play this day, O coward princes!" he +exclaimed. "Another mark we must reach with our arrows. May Phoebus +assist us, and our labor not be in vain!" + +With the last word, the great chieftain loosed his arrow, and on its +wing death rode to Antinous, who at that moment had raised a golden +bowl from which to drink. The fateful arrow passed through his neck, +and he fell upon the floor, and the wine from the tumbling goblet +mingled with his blood. + +The rest of the suitors were confounded at what they saw, and thronged +the hall tumultously, half in fear and half in anger. + +"Do you aim at princes?" they cried. "This is the last of the unhappy +games you shall play. Death now awaits you, and vultures shall tear +your body." + +"Dogs, you have had your day," the Greek warrior spoke. "You thought +there was no further fear of Ulysses, and here you have squandered his +wealth, made his house your home, and preyed upon his servants. Worse +than all, fired by frenzy, you have claimed even the wife of your +chieftain. You have known neither shame nor dread of the gods, and now +is come the hour of vengeance. Behold your King!" + +The confused suitors stood around with pale cheeks and guilty heads +before the dreadful words of Ulysses. + +Eurymachus alone was bold enough to speak. "If you are indeed Ulysses, +great are your wrongs, for your property has been, squandered, and riot +and debauchery have filled your palace. But at your feet now lies +Antinous, whose wild ambition meant to slay your son and divide your +kingdom. Since he is dead, spare the rest of your people. Our gold and +treasures shall defray the expense, and the waste of years shall be +refunded to you within the day. Until then, your wrath is just." + +With high disdain the king thus sternly spoke, "All the treasures that +we had before you began your pillage, joined with all your own, would +not bring you mercy. I demand your blood and your lives as prizes, and +shall not cease till every one of you lies as pale as yonder wretch +upon the floor. You have but one choice--to fight or to fly." + +All the great assembly trembled with guilty fears excepting Eurymachus +alone, who calling upon the others to follow him, drew his traitor +sword, and rushed like a lion against his lord. + +As they met, Ulysses turned aside the sword of his rushing foe, and +forced his own through the traitor's breast. Eurymachus dropped his +sword from his weakening hand, and fell prone upon the table, breaking +it to the ground, and scattering the rich viands over the marble floor. + +Almost at the same moment Amphinomus rushed forward to the attack, but +Telemachus drove his brazen spear through the breast of the fierce foe, +who fell crashing to the stones. + +"Arm! great father, arm!" cried Telemachus. "In haste I run for other +arms and missiles, for helmet and shield. Let the two servants stand +faithfully by your side till I return." + +"Haste!" replied Ulysses, "lest the host come upon us all at once, and +we be driven from our post." + +Telemachus flew to the room where the royal armor lay, and brought with +him four brazen helmets, eight shining spears, and four broad shields. +Still among the coward princes the arrows of Ulysses were flying, each +carrying death to an enemy. Each placed a helmet upon his head, and +buckled on an armor, and thus clothed, the four stood shoulder to +shoulder, awaiting the onset, for by this time the surviving princes +had remembered the strength that lay in their numbers, and prepared to +charge together upon the king and his attendants. + +Now Minerva, the wise goddess and friend of Ulysses, appeared again +before him as the aged Mentor, and advised him how to fight. Then with +change of form, she suddenly perched like a swallow on a rafter high, +where, unperceived, she could watch the struggle. + +The conflict that followed was a sight worthy of the gods, for again +and again the traitor princes charged upon the doughty four, each time +losing some of their number; for rarely did it fail that the king and +each of his faithful adherents took at least one life from the +multitude. Again and again clouds of darts threatened the life of the +king and his son, but every time Minerva blew them aside, +and they fell harmless upon the floor, or buried themselves in the +woodwork behind the struggling heroes. At last but three of the +attacking party remained alive. First of these was Leiodes, the priest, +who had first tried the bow of Ulysses. + +"O gracious king, hear my supplication! I have never dishonored your +house by word or deed, and often I tried to check the injustice of the +rest, but they never listened to my words. Do not make yourself guilty +of insult to my consecrated head." + +"Priest you are," returned Ulysses, "but your vows have been made +against me, and against me have your daily prayers been said. Moreover, +you aspired to the hand of my wife, and as you joined in the common +crime against me, you deserve the common fate." + +Even as he spoke, he seized a sword from the hand of one of the dead +princes, and swung it flashing through the air, and that moment the +priest's head rolled muttering on the floor. There remained only +Phemius, the reverend minstrel, whose poems had pleased the king in +earlier days, and Medon, the faithful friend and servant of Telemachus. + +Neither had taken part in the struggle, and both were spared. + +"Be bold," Ulysses said to them, "and rely on the friendship of my son. +Live, and be to the world an example, to show how much more safe are +good than evil deeds. Go out to the open court and leave us here in +this room of blood and carnage." + +Carefully the rooms were then searched by Ulysses and his followers, +but nowhere could they find a single living traitor. The dead lay on +the floor in heaps like fish that had been cast from the net upon the +sands, and lie stiffening in the air. + +Ulysses was not content till he had punished every evil servant and +treacherous man and woman about the palace or in the town in proportion +to his misdeeds. + +Then by the aid of Euryclea, his faithful old nurse, he robed himself +in garments fit for the shoulders of a king, and prepared to meet the +queen. + +During all this time Penelope had remained in her apartments terrified +by the confusion and noise of fighting in the palace, but praying +always for her son. We can imagine her surprise and delight when she +learned how the battle had turned, and that the beggar, who had fought +so manfully, was indeed none other than her husband Ulysses. + +Once more in possession of the throne, the Greek hero and his son +rapidly destroyed every vestige of the unhappy days that had passed, +and soon the kingdom was again enjoying a prosperous and happy reign. + + + + +JOHN BUNYAN + + +The father of John Bunyan was a poor tinker, a mender of pots and +kettles, working sometimes in his own house and sometimes in the homes +of others. His son followed the same occupation and did his work well. +Even after he became a popular preacher and a great author he kept on +with his humble calling. It was a queer occupation for a man of genius, +and scarcely any one would expect the man who followed it to write a +book that would be more widely read than anything except the Bible. +Evidently Bunyan was no common tinker. + +John Bunyan was born at Elstow, a village near Bedford, in 1628, a year +famous in English history as that in which the king, Charles I, was +forced to grant the Petition of Right presented by the House of +Commons. But the commotion in politics produced little effect on father +and child, and the latter grew up as most English boys of his time did +grow, except that he had the advantage of attending a grammar school in +Bedford, a greater advantage than it seems unless we remember that +there were then no common schools in England. + +The young tinker was a violent and passionate boy, profane, and a +leader in all the mischief of his kind. In his own account of his early +life written long years afterward he accuses himself of all manner of +sins. Yet from what he says in other places we know that he was far +from being the worst of boys, and that many things that gave him the +greatest concern were curiously exaggerated by his uneasy conscience. + +He must have been a strange little fellow, for while he was swearing, +lying and leading raids upon his neighbors' fruit orchards he was often +terrified by the awfulness of his sin and "trembling at the thoughts of +the fearful torments of hell-fire." + +To appreciate his feelings fully, we must remember the age in which he +lived as the time when everything in the Bible was taken as wholly +literal, when people believed that sin was followed by awful +punishments in a fiery hell, and when miraculous events were considered +common. + +The young John must have known such occurrences as the following, +related by Froude in his Life of Bunyan: + +"A man commonly called 'Old Tod' came one day into court, in the Summer +Assizes at Bedford, to demand justice upon himself as a felon. No one +had accused him, but God's judgment was not to be escaped, and he was +forced to accuse himself. 'My lord,' said Old Tod to the judge, 'I have +been a thief from my childhood. I have been a thief ever since. There +has not been a robbery committed these many years, within so many miles +of this town, but I have been privy to it.' The judge, after a +conference, agreed to indict him for certain felonies which he had +acknowledged. He pleaded guilty, implicating his wife along with him, +and they were both hanged." + +Filled with terror by the fearful things he heard and saw, it is no +wonder that so sensitive a child was haunted by such nightmares as are +described by one of his biographers. + +[Illustration: JOHN BUNYAN 1628-1688] + +Once he dreamed that he was in a pleasant place, jovial and rioting, +when an earthquake rent the earth, out of which came bloody flames, and +the figures of men tossed up in globes of fire, and falling down again +with horrible cries and shrieks and execrations, while devils mingled +among them, and laughed aloud at their torments. As he stood trembling, +the earth sank under him, and a circle of flames embraced him.. But +when he fancied he was at the point to perish, one in shining white +raiment descended and plucked him out of that dreadful place, while the +devils cried after him to take him to the punishment which his sins +deserved. Yet he escaped the danger, and leapt for joy when he awoke +and found it was a dream. + +At seventeen, Bunyan was a tall, active lad still wild and reckless, an +inventor of tales, who swore to their truth, a great leader in athletic +sports, but free from drunkenness and other coarse vices. The Civil War +was nearing its end, and martial deeds drew Bunyan to enlist, but his +term of service was short and it is not known on which side he served. + +Soon after this he married an excellent girl, an orphan, who had been +brought up religiously and who made an excellent wife for the +successful tinker. He was now a regular attendant upon the Established +Church, though, as he says, still retaining his wicked life. + +The story of Bunyan's conversion is one that is difficult for us to +understand. To him it was a series of terrifying experiences, a +succession of agonizing struggles, which grew only the more terrible +after he was convinced of his own sinful ways. He tells the story of +his fearful spiritual contest in the plainest, most matter-of-fact way, +but scarcely mentions his home life, his daily work, or the growth of +his family. + +To him, the Devil was a very real person, who came as a tempter and +would not be denied, long after Bunyan had completely reformed his ways +and was living a life of strict honesty, purity and self-denial. No +sooner had his manner of living become perfect, as we should consider +it, than mental and spiritual temptations fell upon him. He believed +that he had denied and sold his Savior; that he had committed the one +sin for which no atonement was possible, and that he stood on the brink +of a very real hell in whose sulphurous flames his body would burn +forever. We cannot help pitying the poor country workman whose tender +conscience and loyal soul tortured him with pains, worse a thousand +times than those of physical death. No doubt his mind wavered in the +balance, for such agonies lead to insanity, if they are not the +evidence of it. + +At last, however, his self-tormenting ceased, and his weary soul found +rest in a comforting belief in Christ's forgiveness. As a result of his +worry his health had given way, and he felt that his end was at hand. +But after peace came to him and he joined the Baptist Church his +strength came back, and for several years he kept at his business, +making good progress and finding himself at twenty-five years of age in +a better position in life than that to which he had been born. + +There came to him a further call, and ignorant as he was of history, +literature and philosophy, he entered the ministry of his church. He +knew his Bible thoroughly, he had experienced all the terrors of the +lost and all the joys of the redeemed, and he possessed that living +enthusiasm that carries conviction to others. So, when he spoke to the +people among whom he had passed his life, he caught the imagination of +every one and bore them all along on the flood of his eloquence. No +such preacher was there in England; and everywhere, in woods, in barns, +on the village greens and in the chapels of the towns he preached his +religion. + +In the height of his fame, the Commonwealth ended, the Puritans lost +their control of political affairs, and Charles II was restored to the +throne of England. Soon the separate meetings of the Nonconformists +were prohibited, and Bunyan was warned that he must cease his +preaching. No one could be more firm, however, in following the +dictates of his conscience than this reformed tinker*, and so, although +he knew arrest and imprisonment faced him, he arranged to meet his +people and deliver to them a farewell address in November, 1660. At +that meeting the constables found him and took him away without any +resistance on his part. The government was anxious to deal liberally +with Bunyan, for his fine character and good influence were both +recognized, but the sturdy exhorter declined to stop his preaching and +would not give the least assurance that he would not continue to spread +his faith. As a consequence he was committed to the Bedford jail, where +he was not kept, however, in close confinement for any great part of +the time. His family were allowed to visit him, and his friends often +came in numbers to listen to his addresses. + +There was no time when he would not have been liberated if he had +merely promised to give up his preaching. At the end of six years he +was liberated, but as he began preaching at once, he was rearrested and +kept for six years longer, when a general change of governmental policy +sent him out into the world at forty-four years of age, free to preach +when and where he wished. + +Bunyan's imprisonment was of great value to him, in one respect at +least, for it gave him time to read, reflect and write. That he availed +himself of the privilege, his great works testify. After his release he +continued his labors among his congregation, in writing, and in +visiting other churches. His little blind child, who visited him so +often in the jail, died; but the rest of his family lived and did well, +and Bunyan must be considered a very happy man during the sixteen years +he stayed in his neat little home in Bedford. + +In August, 1688, he received word that a bad quarrel had taken place +between a father and son, acquaintances of Bunyan, who lived at +Reading. The old peacemaker went at once to the family and after much +persuasion succeeded in reconciling the two and persuading the father +not to disinherit the son. But this was the last charitable act of the +great preacher, for in returning he was drenched to the skin in a heavy +shower of wind and rain, and after a brief illness died at the home of +one of his friends in London. + + + + +THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS + +INTRODUCTION + + +The Pilgrim's Progress was written while Bunyan was in the Bedford +jail, and as the writer says, was written for his own amusement. +Christian is Bunyan himself, and the trials and experiences of the +former are but the reflections of the temptations and sufferings of the +great preacher set forth in wonderfully dramatic and striking form. + +At some time nearly every person reads _The Pilgrim's Progress_, and to +those who do, Christian becomes a very real person. It is a Puritan +book, pure and simple, and as such, contains some things that people of +other denominations may object to, but there is so much of truth, +simplicity and real human nature in it, so much that touches the +spiritual experiences of all human beings, that most people, regardless +of creed, are helped by it. + +_The Pilgrim's Progress_ is a very plain allegory. It describes persons +and things as real and material, but always gives to everything a +spiritual significance. There is no room for doubt at any time, for +the names are all so aptly chosen that the meaning may be seen by any +reader. Yet the allegory is so significantly true that while a child +may read and enjoy it as a story and be helped by its patent +truthfulness and poetry, the maturer mind may find latent truths that +compensate for a more careful reading. + +"As I walked through the wilderness of this world," the book begins, "I +lighted on a certain place where there was a den [Footnote: The Bedford +jail.] and I laid me down there to sleep, and as I slept, I dreamed a +dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man, a man clothed in rags, +standing with his face from his own home, with a book in his hand, and +a great burden upon his back. I looked and saw him open the book and +read therein; and, as he read, he wept and trembled; and not being able +longer to contain, he broke out with a lamentable cry, saying, 'What +shall I do?'" This man is Christian, the hero of the story. + + +CHRISTIAN BEGINS HIS JOURNEY + +In this plight, therefore, he went home and refrained himself as long +as he could, that his wife and children should not perceive his +distress; but he could not be silent long, because that his trouble +increased. Wherefore at length he brake his mind to his wife and +children; and thus he began to talk to them: + +"O my dear wife," said he, "and you, my children, I, your dear friend, +am in myself undone by reason of a burden that lieth hard upon me; +moreover I am for certain informed that this our city will be burned +with fire from heaven, in which fearful overthrow, both myself, with +thee, my wife, and you my sweet babes, shall miserably come to ruin, +except (the which yet I see not) some way of escape can be found, +whereby we may be delivered." + +At this his relations were sore amazed; not for what they believed that +what he had said to them, was true, but because they thought that some +frenzy distemper had got into his head; therefore, it drawing near +night, and they hoping that sleep might settle his brains, with all +haste they got him to bed. + +But the night was as troublesome to him as the day; wherefore, instead +of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So, when the morning was. +come, they would know how he did. He told them, "Worse and worse." He +also set talking to them again; but they began to be hardened. + +They also thought to drive away his distemper by harsh and surly +carriages to him; sometimes they would deride, sometimes they would +chide, and sometimes they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he began +to retire himself to his chamber, to pray for and pity them, and also +to condole his own misery; he would also walk solitarily in the fields, +sometimes reading, and sometimes praying: and thus for some days he +spent his time. + +Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he +was, as he was wont, reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his +mind; and as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying, +"What shall I do to be saved?" + +I saw also that he looked this way and that way, as if he would run; +yet he stood still, because, as I perceived, he could not tell which +way to go. I looked then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, +who asked, "Wherefore dost thou cry?" + +He answered, "Sir, I perceive by the book in my hand that I am +condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment, and I find that I +am not willing to do the first, nor able to do the second." + +Then said Evangelist, "Why not willing to die, since this life is +attended with so many evils?" The man answered: + +"Because I fear that this burden that is upon my back will sink me +lower than the grave, and I shall fall into Tophet. And, sir, if I be +not fit to go to prison, I am not fit, I am sure, to go to judgment, +and from thence to execution; and the thoughts of these things make me +cry." + +Then said Evangelist, "If this be thy condition, why standest thou +still?" + +He answered, "Because I know not whither to go." + +Then he gave him a parchment roll, and there was written within, "Flee +from the wrath to come." + +The man therefore read it, and looking upon Evangelist very carefully, +said, "Whither must I fly?" + +Then said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a very wide field, +"Do you see yonder wicket gate?" + +The man said, "No." + +"Then," said the other, "Do you see yonder shining light?" + +He said, "I think I do." + +Then said Evangelist, "Keep that light in your eye, and go up directly +thereto: so shalt thou see the Gate; at which, when thou knockest, it +shall be told thee what thou shalt do." + +So I saw in my dream that the man began to run. Now, he had not run far +from his own door; but his wife and children, perceiving it, began to +cry after him to return; but the man put his fingers in his ears, and +ran on, crying, "Life! life! eternal life!" + +So he looked not behind him, but fled toward the middle of the plain. +The neighbors also came out to see him run, and, as he ran, some +mocked, others threatened, and some cried after him to return; and, +among those that did so, there were two that resolved to fetch him back +by force. The name of one was Obstinate, and the other Pliable. + +[Illustration: HE LOOKED NOT BEHIND HIM] + +Obstinate argues with Christian, but gives him up in despair and +returns to his home, but Pliable, thinking after all there may be some +good reason in Christian's conduct, decides to accompany him to the +wicket gate, and they converse on the way. + + +THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND + +Now, I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended this talk they drew +near to a very miry slough, that was in the midst of the plain; and +they, being heedless, did both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of +the slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed for a time, +being grievously bedaubed with the dirt; and Christian, because of the +burden that was on his back, began to sink in the mire. + Then said Pliable, "Ah! neighbor Christian, where are you now?" + +"Truly," said Christian, "I do not know." + +At this Pliable began to be offended, and angrily said to his fellow, +"Is this the happiness you have told me all this while of? If we have +such ill-speed at our first setting out, what may we expect betwixt +this and our journey's end? May I get out again with my life, you shall +possess the brave country alone for me." + +And, with that, he gave a desperate struggle or two, and got out of the +mire on the side of the slough which was next to his own house; so away +he went, and Christian saw him no more. + +Wherefore, Christian was left to tumble in the Slough of Despond alone; +but still he endeavored to struggle to that side of the slough that was +still further from his own house, and next to the wicket gate; the +which he did, but he could not get out, because of the burden that was +upon his back; but I beheld in my dream, that a man came to him whose +name was Help, and asked him what he did there? + +"Sir," said Christian, "I was bid go this way by a man called +Evangelist, who directed me also to yonder gate, that I might escape +the wrath to come; and as I was going thither I fell in here." + +_Help._ "But why did you not look for the steps?" + +_Chr._ "Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next way, and +fell in." + +[Illustration: IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND ] + +_Help._ "Then give me thy hand." So he gave him his hand, and he +drew him out, and set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his way. + +Then I stepped to him that plucked him out and said, "Sir, wherefore, +since over this place is the way from the City of Destruction to yonder +gate, is it that this plat is not mended, that poor travelers might go +thither with more security?" + +And he said unto me, "This mire slough is such a place as cannot be +mended: it is the descent whither the scum and filth that attends +conviction for sin doth continually run, and therefore it is called the +Slough of Despond; for still as the sinner is awakened about his lost +condition, there ariseth in his soul many fears, and doubts, and +discouraging apprehensions, which all of them get together, and settle +in this place. And this is the reason of the badness of the ground. + +"It is not the pleasure of the King that this place should remain so +bad. His laborers also have, by the direction of His Majesty's +surveyors, been for above these sixteen hundred years employed about +this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been mended: yea, and to +my knowledge," said he, "here have been swallowed up at least twenty +thousand cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instructions, that have +at all seasons been brought from all places of the King's dominions, +and they that can tell say that they are the best materials to make +good ground of the place, if so be it might have been mended; but it is +the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when they have done what +they can. + +"True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, certain good and +substantial steps, placed even through the very midst of this slough: +but at such time as this place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth +against change of weather, these steps are hardly seen; or, if they be, +men, through the dizziness of their heads, step beside, and then they +are bemired to purpose, notwithstanding the steps be there; but the +ground is good when they are once got in at the gate." + +Now, I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable was got home to his +house again, so that his neighbors came to visit him; and some of them +called him wise man for coming back, and some called him fool for +hazarding himself with Christian; others again did mock at his +cowardliness, saying, "Surely, since you began to venture, I would not +have been so base as to have given out for a few difficulties." So +Pliable sat sneaking among them. But at last he got more confidence, +and then they all turned their tales, and began to deride poor +Christian behind his back. + + * * * * * + +Christian proceeds on his way, meeting many persons and conversing with +them, often discouraged, but always persistent in his idea of gaining +Mount Zion and the holy city. The perils that he meets do not overwhelm +him, and even when he is apparently doomed to certain destruction, some +happy turn of events sets him again on his way rejoicing. Friends also +appear to help him whenever he most needs them. + + +THE FIGHT WITH APOLLYON + +When I saw in my dream that, on the morrow, he got up to go forward, +but they desired him to stay till the next day also; and then, said +they, we will, if the day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains, +which, they said, would yet further add to his comfort, because they +were nearer the desired haven than the place where at present he was; +so he consented and stayed. + +[Illustration: THE FIGHT WITH APOLLYON ] + +When the morning was up, they had him to the top of the house, and bid +him look south; so he did; and, behold, at a great distance he saw a +most pleasant mountainous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, +fruits of all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very +delectable to behold. Then he asked the name of the country. They said +it was Emmanuel's Land; "and it is as common," said they, "as this hill +is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou comest there from +thence," said they, "thou mayest see to the gate of the Celestial City, +as the shepherds that live there will make appear." + +Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and they were willing he +should. "But first," said they, "let us go again into the armory." So +they did; and when they came there, they harnessed him from head to +foot with what was of proof, lest, perhaps, he should meet with +assaults in the way. + +He being, therefore, thus accoutered, walketh out with his friends to +the gate, and there he asked the porter if he saw a pilgrim pass by. +Then the porter answered, "Yes." + +_Chr_. "Pray, did you know him?" + +_Por_. "I asked him his name, and he told me it was Faithful." + +_Chr_. "Oh, I know him; he is my townsman, my near neighbor; he +comes from the place where I was born. How far do you think he may be +before?" + +_Por_. "He has got by this time below the hill." + +_Chr_. "Well, good Porter, the Lord be with thee, and add to all +thy blessings much increase, for the kindness that thou hast showed to +me." + +Then he began to go forward; but Discretion, Piety, Charity and +Prudence would accompany him down to the foot of the hill. So they went +on together, reiterating their former discourses, till they came to go +down the hill. + +Then said Christian, "As it was difficult coming up, so, so far as I +can see, it is dangerous going down." "Yes," said Prudence, "so it is; +for it is a hard matter for a man to go down into the Valley of +Humiliation, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way; +therefore, are we come out to accompany thee down the hill." So he +began to go down, but very warily; yet he caught a slip or two. + +Then I saw in my dream that these good companions, when Christian was +gone to the bottom of the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of +wine and a cluster of raisins; and then he went on his way. + +But now, in this Valley of Humiliation, poor Christian was hard put to +it; for he had gone but a little way, before he espied a foul fiend +coming over the field to meet him; his name is Apollyon. Then did +Christian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether to go +back or to stand his ground. But he considered again that he had no +armor for his back; and therefore thought that to turn the back to him +might give him the greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his +darts. Therefore he resolved to venture and stand his ground; for, +thought he, had I no more in mine eye than the saving of my life, it +would be the best way to stand. + +So he went on and Apollyon met him. Now the monster was hideous to +behold; he was clothed with scales like a fish, and (they are his +pride) he had wings like a dragon, feet like a bear, and out of his +belly came fire and smoke, and his mouth was as the mouth of a lion. +When he was come up to Christian, he beheld him with a disdainful +countenance, and thus began to question with him. + +_Apol_. "Whence came you? and whither are you bound?" + +_Chr_. "I am come from the City of Destruction, which is the place +of all evil, and am going to the City of Zion." + +_Apol_. "By this I perceive thou art one of my subjects, for all +that country is mine, and I am the prince and god of it. How is it, +then, that thou hast run away from thy king? Were it not that I hope +thou mayest do me more service, I would strike thee now, at one blow, +to the ground." + +_Chr._ "I was born, indeed, in your dominions, but your service was +hard, and your wages such as a man could not live on, 'for the wages of +sin is death,' therefore, when I was come to years, I did as other +considerate persons do, look out, if, perhaps, I might mend myself." + +_Apol._ "There is no prince that will thus lightly lose his subjects, +neither will I as yet loose thee; but since thou complainest of thy +service and wages, be content to go back: what our country will afford, +I do here promise to give thee." + +_Chr._ "But I have let myself to another, even to the King of princes; +and how can I, with fairness, go back with thee?" + +_Apol._ "Thou hast done in this, according to the proverb, 'Changed a +bad for a worse;' but it is ordinary for those that have professed +themselves his servants, after a while to give him the slip and return +again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well." + +_Chr._ "I have given him my faith, and sworn my allegiance to him; +how, then, can I go back from this, and not be hanged as a traitor?" + +_Apol._ "Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am willing to pass by +all, if now thou wilt yet turn again and go back." + +_Chr._ "What I promised thee was in my nonage; and beside, I count the +Prince under whose banner now I stand is able to absolve me; yea, and +to pardon also what I did as to my compliance with thee; and beside, O +thou destroying Apollyon! to speak truth, I like his service, his +wages, his servants, his government, his company and country better +than thine; and, therefore, leave off to persuade me further; I am his +servant, and I will follow him." + +_Apol._ "Consider, again, when thou art in cool blood, what thou +art like to meet with in the way that thou goest. Thou knowest that, +for the most part, his servants come to an ill end, because they are +transgressors against me and my ways. How many of them have been put to +shameful deaths; and, beside, thou countest his service better than +mine, whereas he never came yet from the place where he is to deliver +any that served him out of their hands; but, as for me, how many times, +as all the world very well knows, have I delivered, either by power or +fraud, those that have faithfully served me, from him and his, though +taken by them; and so I will deliver thee." + +_Chr._ "His forbearing at present to deliver them is on purpose to +try their love, whether they will cleave to him to the end; and as for +the ill end thou sayest they come to, that is most glorious in their +account; for, for the present deliverance, they do not much expect it, +for they stay for their glory, and then they shall have it, when their +Prince comes in his and the glory of the angels." + +_Apol._ "Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy service to him; +and how dost thou think to receive wages of him?" + +_Chr._ "Wherein, O Apollyon! have I been unfaithful to him?" + +_Apol._ "Thou didst faint at first setting out, when thou wast +almost choked in the Gulf of Despond; thou didst attempt wrong ways to +be rid of thy burden, whereas thou shouldest have stayed till thy +Prince had taken it off; thou didst sinfully sleep and lose thy choice +thing; thou wast, also, almost persuaded to go back, at the sight of +the lions; and when thou talkest of thy journey, and of what thou hast +heard and seen, thou art inwardly desirous of vainglory in all that +thou sayest or doest." + +_Chr._ "All this is true, and much more which thou hast left out; +but the Prince whom I serve and honor is merciful, and ready to +forgive; but, besides, these infirmities possessed me in thy country, +for there I sucked them in; and I have groaned under them, been sorry +for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince." + +Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, saying, "I am an enemy to +this Prince; I hate his person, his laws, and people; I am come out on +purpose to withstand thee." + +_Chr._ "Apollyon, beware what you do; for I am in the king's highway, +the way of holiness; therefore take heed to yourself." + +Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and +said, "I am void of fear in this matter; prepare thyself to die; for I +swear by my infernal den, that thou shalt go no further; here will I +spill thy soul." And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast; +but Christian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so +prevented the danger of that. + +Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to bestir him; and +Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail; by the +which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it, +Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand and his foot. This made +Christian give a little back; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work +amain, and Christian again took courage, and resisted as manfully as he +could. This sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till +Christian was almost quite spent; for you must know that Christian, by +reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker. + +Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to +Christian, and wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall; and with +that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, "I am +sure of thee now." + +And with that he had almost pressed him to death, so that Christian +began to despair of life: but as God would have it, while Apollyon was +fetching of his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, +Christian nimbly stretched out his hand for his sword, and caught it, +saying, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall I shall +rise," and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give +back, as one that had received his mortal wound. + +Christian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, "Nay, in all +these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us." +And with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, and sped him +away, that Christian for a season saw him no more. + +In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard as I +did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the +fight--he spake like a dragon; and, on the other side, what sighs and +groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw him all the while give +so much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon +with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile, and look upward; +but it was the dreadfulest sight that ever I saw. + + "A more unequal match can hardly be, + Christian must fight an Angel; but you see, + The valiant man by handling Sword and Shield, + Doth make him, tho' a Dragon, quit the field." + +So when the battle was over, Christian said, "I will here give thanks +to him that delivered me out of the mouth of the lion, to him that did +help me against Apollyon." And so he did, saying-- + + "Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, + Design'd my ruin; therefore to this end + He sent him harness'd out: and he with rage, + That hellish was, did fiercely me engage. + But blessed Michael helped me, and I, + By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly. + Therefore to him let me give lasting praise, + And thank and bless his holy name always." + +Then there came to him a hand, with some of the leaves of the tree of +life, the which Christian took, and applied to the wounds that he had +received in the battle, and was healed immediately. He also sat down in +that place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was given him +a little before; so, being refreshed, he addressed himself to his +journey, with his sword drawn in his hand; for he said, "I know not but +some other enemy may be at hand." + +But he met with no other affront from Apollyon quite through this +valley. + +Later Christian meets Faithful, a true pilgrim, but one of a different +temperament, so that his trials and other experiences have been +different, but the two proceed on their journey together happy in good +companionship. They pass through Vanity Fair, and Faithful is stoned to +death. + +After Christian's escape from Vanity Fair he is joined by Hopeful, and +the two travel on as he and Faithful had done. Their trials continue +but Christian finds even more help in the cheerful nature of Hopeful +than in the gentle disposition of Faithful, and he looks forward +without great dread to other trials which he may have to endure. + + +DOUBTING CASTLE AND GIANT DESPAIR + +Now, I beheld in my dream, that they had not journeyed far, but the +river and the way for a time parted; at which they were not a little +sorry, yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the way from the river +was rough, and their feet tender, by reason of their travels; "so the +souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of the way." + +Wherefore, as still they went on, they wished for a better way. Now, a +little before them, there was on the left hand of the road a meadow, +and a stile to go over into it; and that meadow is called By-path +Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow: + +"If this meadow lieth along by our wayside, let us go over into it." + +Then he went to the stile to see, and, behold, a path lay along the +way, on the other side of the fence. + +"It is according to my wish," said Christian. "Here is the easiest +going; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over." + +_Hope_. "But how if this path should lead us out of the way?" + +_Chr_. "That is not like. Look, doth it not go along by the wayside?" + +So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the +stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found +it very easy for their feet; and withal, they, looking before them, +espied a man walking as they did (and his name was Vain-confidence); so +they called after him, and asked him whither that way led. He said to +the Celestial Gate. + +"Look," said Christian, "did not I tell you so? By this you may see we +are right." + +So they followed and he went before them. But, behold, the night came +on, and it grew very dark; so that they that were behind lost the sight +of him that went before. + +He, therefore, that went before (Vain-confidence by name), not seeing +the way before him, fell into a deep pit, which was on purpose there +made, by the prince of those grounds, to catch vainglorious fools +withal, and was dashed in pieces with his fall. + +Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So they called to know the +matter, but there was none to answer, only they heard a groaning. Then +said Hopeful, "Where are we now?" + +Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out of +the way; and now it began to rain, and thunder and lightning in a very +dreadful manner, and the water rose amain. + +Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, "Oh, that I had kept on my +way!" + +_Chr._ "Who could have thought that this path should have led us +out of the way?" + +_Hope._ "I was afraid on it at the very first, and therefore gave +you that gentle caution. I would have spoken plainer, but that you are +older than I." + +[Illustration: IN DOUBTING CASTLE ] + +_Chr._ "Good brother, be not offended; I am sorry I have brought +thee out of the way, and that I have put thee into such imminent +danger. Pray, my brother, forgive me; I did not do it of an evil +intent." + +_Hope._ "Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive thee; and believe, too, +that this shall be for our good." + +_Chr._ "I am glad I have with me a merciful brother. But we must not +stand thus; let us try to go back again." + +_Hope._ "But, good brother, let me go before." + +_Chr._ "No, if you please, let me go first; that, if there be any +danger, I may be first therein, because by my means we are both gone +out of the way." + +_Hope._ "No, you shall not go first; for your mind being troubled +may lead you out of the way again." + +Then, for their encouragement, they heard the voice of one saying, "Set +thine heart toward the highway, even the way which thou wentest; turn +again." + +But by this time the waters were greatly risen, by reason of which the +way of going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought that it is easier +going out of the way, when we are in, than going in when we are out.) +Yet they adventured to go back; but it was so dark, and the flood was +so high, that in their going back they had like to have been drowned +nine or ten times. + +Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile +that night. Wherefore, at last, lighting under a little shelter, they +sat down there until the daybreak, but, being weary, they fell asleep. + +Now there was not far from the place where they lay, a castle called +Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair; and it was in his +grounds they were now sleeping. + +Wherefore he, getting up in the morning early, and walking up and down +in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. +Then, with a grim and surly voice, he bid them awake; and asked them +whence they were, and what they did in his grounds. + +They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. + +Then said the Giant, "You have this night trespassed on me, by +trampling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along +with me." + +So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also +had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The Giant, +therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle, into a +very dark dungeon, nasty and stinking to the spirits of these two men. + +Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, +without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how +they did; they were, therefore, here in evil case, and were far from +friends and acquaintance. Now in this place Christian had double +sorrow, because it was through his unadvised counsel they were brought +into this distress. + +"The Pilgrims now, to gratify the flesh, Will seek its ease; but oh! +how they afresh Do thereby plunge themselves new griefs into; Who seek +to please the flesh, themselves undo." + +Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So when he +was gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done; to-wit, that he had +taken a couple of prisoners and cast them into his dungeon, for +trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best to +do further to them. So she asked him what they were, whence they came, +and whither they were bound; and he told her. Then she counselled him +that when he arose in the morning he should beat them without any +mercy. + +So, when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crabtree cudgel, and goes +down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them +as if they were dogs, although they never gave him a word of distaste. +Then he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort that +they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. +This done, he withdraws and leaves them, there to condole their misery, +and to mourn under their distress. + +So all that day they spent the time in nothing but sighs and bitter +lamentations. The next night, she, talking with her husband about them +further, and understanding they were yet alive, did advise him to +counsel them to make away with themselves. + +So when morning was come, he goes to them in a surly manner as before, +and perceiving them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given +them the day before, he told them that, since they were never like to +come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make an +end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison. "For why," +said he, "should you choose life, seeing it is attended with so much +bitterness?" + +But they desired him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon +them, and, rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself, +but that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes, in sunshiny +weather, fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hand; +wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before, to consider what to do. +Then did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best +to take his counsel or no; and thus they began to discourse: + +_Chr._ "Brother, what shall we do? The life that we now live is +miserable. For my part I know not whether it is best, to live thus, or +to die out of hand. 'My soul chooseth strangling rather than life,' and +the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon. Shall we be ruled by +the Giant?" + +_Hope._ "Indeed, our present condition is dreadful, and death +would be far more welcome to me than thus forever to abide; but yet, +let us consider, the Lord of the country to which we are going hath +said, 'Thou shalt do no murder;' no, not to another man's person; much +more, then, are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill ourselves. +Besides, he that kills another, can but commit murder upon his body; +but for one to kill himself is to kill body and soul at once. + +"And, moreover, my brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave; but hast +thou forgotten the hell, whither for certain the murderers go? 'For no +murderer hath eternal life.' + +"And let us consider, again, that all the law is not in the hand of +Giant Despair. Others, so far as I can understand, have been taken by +him, as well as we, and yet have escaped out of his hand. Who knows but +that God that made the world may cause that Giant Despair may die? or +that, at some time or other, he may forget to lock us in? or that he +may, in a short time, have another of his fits before us, and may lose +the use of his limbs? + +"And if ever that should come to pass again, for my part, I am resolved +to pluck up the heart of a man and try my utmost to get from under his +hand. I was a fool that I did not try to do it before; but, however, my +brother, let us be patient, and endure a while. The time may come that +may give us a happy release; but let us not be our own murderers." + +With these words, Hopeful at present did moderate the mind of his +brother; so they continued together (in the dark) that day, in their +sad and doleful condition. + +Well, toward evening, the Giant goes down into the dungeon again, to +see if his prisoners had taken his counsel; but when he came there he +found them alive; and truly, alive was all; for now, what for want of +bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they received when he beat +them, they could do little but breathe. But, I say, he found them +alive; at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told them that, +seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them +than if they had never been born. + +At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a +swoon; but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their +discourse about the Giant's counsel; and whether yet they had best to +take it or no. Now Christian again seemed to be for doing it, but +Hopeful made his second reply as followeth: + +_Hope._ "My brother, rememberest thou not how valiant thou hast +been heretofore? Apollyon could not crush thee, nor could all that thou +didst hear, or see, or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What +hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already gone through! And art +thou now nothing but fear? Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with +thee, a far weaker man by nature than thou art; also, this Giant has +wounded me as well as thee, and hath also cut off the bread and water +from my mouth; and with thee I mourn without the light. But let us +exercise a little more patience: remember how thou playedst the man at +Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain, nor cage, nor yet of +bloody death. Wherefore, let us (at least to avoid the shame that +becomes not a Christian to be found in) bear up with patience as well +as we can." + +Now, night being come again, and the Giant and his wife being in bed, +she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his +counsel. To which he replied, "They are sturdy rogues, they choose +rather to bear all hardship, than to make away with themselves." + +"Then," said she, "take them into the castleyard to-morrow, and show +them the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already despatched, +and make them believe, ere a week comes to an end, thou also wilt tear +them in pieces, as thou hast their fellows before them." + +So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, and takes +them into the castle-yard, and shows them, as his wife had bidden him. + +"These," said he, "were pilgrims as you are, once, and they trespassed +in my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in +pieces, and so, within ten days, I will do you. Go, get you down to +your den again;" and with that he beat them all the way thither. + +They lay, therefore, all day on Saturday in a lamentable case, as +before. + +Now, when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her husband, the +Giant, were got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their +prisoners; and withal the old Giant wondered that he could neither by +his blows nor his counsel bring them to an end. + +And with that his wife replied: + +"I fear, that they live in hope that some will come to relieve them, or +that they have picklocks about them, by the means of which they hope to +escape." + +"And sayest thou so, my dear?" said the Giant; "I will, therefore, +search them in the morning." + +Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in +prayer till almost break of day. + +Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half-amazed, +brake out in this passionate speech: + +"What a fool," quoth he, "am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when +I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom, called +Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle." + +Then said Hopeful, "That is good news, good brother; pluck it out of +thy bosom and try." + +Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the +dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the key) gave back, and the door +flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he +went to the outward door that leads into the castle-yard, and, with his +key, opened that door also. After, he went to the iron gate, for that +must be opened, too; but that lock went damnable hard, yet the key did +open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with +speed, but that gate, as it opened, made such a creaking that it waked +Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his +limbs to fail, for his fits took him again, so that he could by no +means go after them. + +Then they went on, and came to the King's highway, and so were safe, +because they were out of his jurisdiction. + +Now, when they were gone over the stile, they began to contrive with +themselves what they should do at that stile, to prevent those that +should come after from falling into the hands of Giant Despair. So they +consented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof +this sentence--"Over this stile is the way to Doubting Castle, which is +kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, +and seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims." + +Many, therefore, that followed after, read what was written, and +escaped the danger. This done, they sang as follows: + + "Out of the way we went, and then we found + What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground; + And let them that come after have a care, + Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare. + Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are, + Whose Castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair." + +Having escaped from Doubting Castle they continue their perilous way, +ever drawing nearer to the Celestial City, and ever growing more +impatient for the end of their pilgrimage. + + +BEULAH LAND, DEATH, AND THE CELESTIAL CITY + +Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the Pilgrims were got over the +Enchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah, whose air +was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through it, they +solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, here they heard continually +the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the +earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land. In this country +the sun shineth night and day; wherefore this was beyond the Valley of +the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair, +neither could they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. + +Here they were within sight of the city they were going to, also here +met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the Shining +Ones commonly walked, because it was on the borders of heaven. In this +land, also, the contract between the bride and the bridegroom was +renewed; yea, here, "As the bridegroom rejoiceth over the bride, so did +their God rejoice over them." Here they had no want of corn and wine; +for in this place they met with abundance of what they had sought for +in all their pilgrimage. + +Here they heard voices from out of the city, loud voices, saying, "Say +ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh! Behold, his +reward is with him!" Here all the inhabitants of the country called +them, "The holy people, The redeemed of the Lord sought out," etc. + +[Illustration: The Celestial City] + +Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts +more remote from the kingdom to which they were bound; and drawing near +to the city, they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded +of pearls and precious stones, also the street thereof was paved with +gold; so by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the reflection +of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick; Hopeful also +had a fit or two of the same disease. Wherefore, here they lay by it a +while, crying out, because of their pangs, "If ye find my beloved, tell +him that I am sick of love." + +But, being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their +sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, +where were orchards, vineyards, and gardens, and their gates opened +into the highway. Now, as they came up to these places, behold the +gardener stood in the way, to whom the pilgrims said, "Whose goodly +vineyards and gardens are these?" He answered, "They are the King's, +and are planted here for his own delight, and also for the solace of +pilgrims." So the gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them +refresh themselves with the dainties. He also showed them there the +King's walks, and the arbors where he delighted to be; and here they +tarried and slept. + +Now, I beheld in my dream, that they talked more in their sleep at this +time than ever they did in all their journey; and being in a muse +thereabout, the gardener said even to me, "Wherefore musest thou at the +matter? It is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards +to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to +speak." + +So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves to go up to +the city; but, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city (for +"the city was pure gold") was so extremely glorious, that they could +not, as yet, with open face behold it, but through an instrument made +for that purpose. + +So I saw that, as they went on, there met them two men, in raiment that +shone like gold; also their faces shone as the light. These men asked +the pilgrims whence they came; and they told them. They also asked them +where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and +pleasures they had met in the way; and they told them. + +Then said the men that met them, "You have but two difficulties more to +meet with, and then you are in the city." + +Christian, then, and his companion, asked the men to go along with +them; so they told them they would. + +"But," said they, "you must obtain it by your own faith." + +So I saw in my dream that they went on together, until they came in +sight of the gate. + +Now, I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate was a river, but +there was no bridge to go over, and the river was very deep. At the +sight, therefore, of this river, the Pilgrims were much stunned; but +the men that went with them said, "You must go through, or you cannot +come at the gate." + +The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the +gate; to which they answered, "Yes; but there hath not any, save two, +to-wit, Enoch and Elijah, been permitted to tread that path, since the +foundation of the world, nor shall, until the last trumpet shall +sound." + +The Pilgrims then (especially Christian) began to despond in their +minds, and looked this way and that, but no way could be found by them +by which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the +waters were all of a depth. + +They said, "No;" yet they could not help them in the case; "for," said +they, "you shall find it deeper or shallower as you believe in the King +of the place." + +They then addressed themselves to the water; and entering, Christian +began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, "I +sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head, all His waves go over +me! Selah." + +Then said the other, "Be of good cheer, my brother, I feel the bottom, +and it is good." + +Then said Christian, "Ah! my friend, 'the sorrows of death have +compassed me about;' I shall not see the land that flows with milk and +honey;" and with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, +so that he could not see before him. Also here he in a great measure +lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of +any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his +pilgrimage. + +But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that he had +horror of mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and +never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here, also, as they that stood by +perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he +had committed, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was +also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and +evil spirits, for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words. + +Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head above +water; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a +while, he would rise up again half dead. Hopeful also did endeavor to +comfort him, saying, "Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to +receive us;" but Christian would answer, "It is you, it is you they +wait for; you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you." + +"And so have you," said he to Christian. + +"Ah, brother;" said he, "surely if I was right, He would now arise to +help me; but for my sins He hath brought me into the snare, and hath +left me." + +Then said Hopeful, "My brother, you have quite forgot the text, where +it is said of the wicked, 'There are no bands in their death, but their +strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men, neither are +they plagued like other men.' These troubles and distresses that you go +through in these waters are no sign that God hath forsaken you, but are +sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore +you have received of his goodness, and live upon him in your +distresses." + +Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was as in a muse a while. To +whom also Hopeful added this word, "Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ +maketh thee whole;" and with that Christian brake out with a loud +voice, "Oh! I see Him again, and He tells me, 'When thou passeth +through the waters I will be with thee; and through the river, they +shall not overflow thee.'" + +Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as still as a +stone, until they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found +ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was +but shallow. + +Thus they got over. + +Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two +Shining Men again, who there waited for them, wherefore, being come out +of the river, they saluted them, saying, "We are ministering spirits, +sent forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of salvation." + +Thus they went along toward the gate. + +Now you must note that the City stood upon a mighty hill, but the +Pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to +lead them up by the arms; also, they had left their mortal garments +behind them in the river, for though they went in with them, they came +out without them. They, therefore, went up here with much agility and +speed, though the foundation upon which the City was framed was higher +than the clouds. They therefore went up through the regions of the air, +sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely got +over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them. + +Now while they were thus drawing toward the gate, behold a company of +the heavenly host came out to meet them: to whom it was said, by the +other two Shining Ones, "These are the men that have loved our Lord +when they were in the world, and that have left all for His holy name; +and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on +their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in +the face with joy." + +Then the heavenly host gave a great shout saying, "Blessed are they +which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb." There came out +also at this time to meet them, several of the king's trumpeters, +clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious noises, and +loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters +saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the +world; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet. + +This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, +some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were +to guard them through the upper regions), continually sounding as they +went, with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very sight +was to them that could behold it as if heaven itself was come down to +meet them. Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and as they +walked, ever and anon, these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, +by mixing their music with looks and gestures, still signify to +Christian and his brother how welcome they were into their company, and +with what gladness they came to meet them. + +And now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came at +it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing of +their melodious notes. Here also they had the City itself in view, and +they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring to welcome them +thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had +about their own dwelling there, with such company, and that for ever +and ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be +expressed! And thus they came up to the gate. + +Now, when they were come up to the gate, there was written over it in +letters of gold, "Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they +may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates +into the City." + +Then I saw in my dream that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate; +the which, when they did, some looked from over the gate, to-wit, +Enoch, Moses and Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, "These pilgrims are +come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear to the +King of this place;" and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man +his certificate, which they had received in the beginning; those, +therefore, were carried in to the King, who, when he had read them, +said, "Where are the men?" + +To whom it was answered, "They are standing without the gate." + +The King then commanded to open the gate, "That the righteous nation," +said he, "which keepeth the truth may enter in." + +Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate: and lo, +as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had raiment put on +that shone like gold. There were also that met them with harps and +crowns, and gave them to them--the harps to praise withal, and the +crowns in token of honor. + +Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for +joy, and that it was said unto them, _"Enter ye into the joy of your +Lord."_ + +I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, +saying, _"Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him that +sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever."_ + +Now, just as the gate were opened to let in the men, I looked in after +them, and, behold, the City shone like the sun; the streets also were +paved with gold, and in them walked many men, with crowns on their +heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal. + +There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another +without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord." And after +that they shut up the gates; which, when I had seen, I wished myself +among them. + + + + +AWAY +[Footnote: From _Afterichiles_, by James Whitcomb Riley, copyright +1887.] + +_By_ JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + + I cannot say, and I will not say, + That he is dead.--He is just away! + + With a cheery smile and a wave of the hand, + He has wandered into an unknown land, + + And left us dreaming how very fair + It needs must be, since he lingers there. + + And you--oh you, who the wildest yearn + For the old-time step and the glad return,-- + + Think of him faring on, as dear + In the love of There as the love of Here; + + And loyal still, as he gave the blows + Of his warrior strength to his country's foes.-- + + Mild and gentle, as he was brave,-- + When the sweetest love of his life he gave + + To simple things;--Where the violets grew + Pure as the eyes they were likened to, + + The touches of his hand have strayed + As reverently as his lips have prayed: + + When the little brown thrush that harshly chirred + Was dear to him as the mocking-bird; + + And he pitied as much as a man in pain + A writhing honey-bee wet with rain.-- + + Think of him still as the same, I say; + He is not dead--he is just away! + + + + +LITTLE GIFFIN OF TENNESSEE + + + Out of the focal and foremost fire, + Out of the hospital walls as dire, + Smitten of grape-shot and gangrene-- + Eighteenth battle and he sixteen-- + Spectre such as you seldom see, + Little Giffin of Tennessee. + + "Take him and welcome," the surgeon said, + "But much your doctor can help the dead!" + And so we took him and brought him where + The balm was sweet on the summer air; + And we laid him down on a lonesome bed, + Utter Lazarus, heels to head. + + Weary war with bated breath! + Skeleton Boy against skeleton Death! + Months of torture, how many such! + Weary weeks of the stick and crutch! + And still the glint of the steel-blue eye + Told of a spirit that wouldn't die, + + And didn't--nay more, in Death's despite + The crippled skeleton learned to write. + "Dear Mother," at first, of course, and then, + "Dear Captain," asking about the men. + Captain's answer, "Of eighty and five, + Giffin and I are still alive." + + "Johnston's pressed at the front," they say-- + Little Giffin was up and away. + A tear, the first, as he bade good-bye, + Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye. + "I'll write, if spared."--There was news of fight, + But none of Giffin--he didn't write. + + I sometimes fancy that when I'm king, + And my gallant courtiers form a ring, + Each so careless of power and pelf, + Each so thoughtful for all but self, + I'd give the best on his bended knee-- + Yes, barter them all, for the loyalty + Of Little Giffin of Tennessee. + + + + +LITTLE BREECHES + +A PIKE COUNTY VIEW OF SPECIAL PROVIDENCE + +By JOHN HAY +[Footnote: John Hay was born in Indiana, and in 1861 became the law- +partner of Abraham Lincoln, and for the greater part of the time +during the latter's life as president of the United States, acted as +his private secretary. After the War he held various political offices +and was an editorial Writer on the New York Tribune. He became known +for his unusual tact and foresight, and finally became secretary of +state. + +He is well known, too, for his writings, the most notable of which is +his _Abraham Lincoln_, which was written in company with John G Nicolay. +Besides this he wrote a number of humorous poems, of which _Little +Breeches_ is perhaps the best known.] + + + I don't go much on religion, + I never ain't had no show; + But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, + On the handful o' things I know. + I don't pan out on the prophets + And free-will, and that sort of thing,-- + But I b'lieve in God and the angels, + Ever sence one night last spring. + +[Illustration: Went team, Little Breeches, and all] + + I come into town with some turnips, + And my little Gabe come along,-- + No four-year-old in the country + Could beat him for pretty and strong, + Peart and chipper and sassy, + Always ready to swear and fight,-- + And I'd larnt him ter chaw terbacker, + Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. + + The snow come down like a blanket + As I passed by Taggart's store; + I went in for a jug of molasses + And left the team at the door. + They scared at something and started,-- + I heard one little squall, + And hell-to-split over the prairie + Went team, Little Breeches and all. + + Hell-to-split over the prairie! + I was almost froze with skeer; + But we rousted up some torches, + And sarched for 'em far and near. + At last we struck hosses and wagon, + Snowed under a soft white mound, + Upsot, dead beat,--but of little Gabe + No hide nor hair was found. + + And here all hope soured on me + Of my fellow-critter's aid,-- + I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, + Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. + * * * * * + By this, the torches was played out, + And me and Isrul Parr + Went off for some wood to a sheepfold + That he said was somewhar thar. + We found it at last, and a little shed + Where they shut up the lambs at night. + We looked in, and seen them huddled thar, + So warm and sleepy and white; + + And THAR sot Little Breeches and chirped, + As peart as ever you see, + "I want a chaw of terbacker, + And that's what's the matter of me." + + How did he git thar? Angels. + He could never have walked in that storm. + They jest scooped down and toted him + To whar it was safe and warm. + + And I think that saving a little child, + And bringing him to his own, + Is a derned sight better business + Than loafing around the Throne. + +This little poem is an imitation of what was the rude dialect of some +parts of Pike County, Indiana. One must not be too critical of the +roughness and the apparent irreverence of some of the lines, for the +sentiment is a pleasing one. An ignorant man who believes in "God and +the angels" may be forgiven for the crudity of his ideas, and the +mistakes he makes in bringing up his boy, especially as he "never ain't +had no show." + + + + +THE YARN OF THE "NANCY BELL" + +_By_ W. S. GILBERT + + + 'Twas on the shores that round our coasts + From Deal to Ramsgate span, + That I found alone, on a piece of stone, + An elderly naval man. + + His hair was weedy, his beard was long, + And weedy and long was he; + And I heard this wight on the shore recite, + In a singular minor key:-- + + "O, I am a cook and a captain bold, + And the mate of the Nancy brig, + And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, + And the crew of the captain's gig." + + And he shook his fists and he tore his hair + Till I really felt afraid, + For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking, + And so I simply said:-- + + "O elderly man, it's little I know + Of the duties of men of the sea, + And I'll eat my hand if I understand + How you can possibly be + + "At once a cook and a captain bold, + And the mate of the Nancy brig, + And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, + And the crew of the captain's gig!" + + Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which + Is a trick all seamen larn, + And having got rid of a thumping quid + He spun this painful yarn:-- + + "'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell + That we sailed to the Indian sea, + And there on a reef we come to grief, + Which has often occurred to me. + + "And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned + (There was seventy-seven o' soul); + And only ten of the Nancy's men + Said 'Here' to the muster-roll. + + "There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold, + And the mate of the Nancy brig, + And a bo'sun tight and a midshipmite, + And the crew of the captain's gig. + + "For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, + Till a hungry we did feel, + So we drawed a lot, and, accordin', shot + The captain for our meal. + + "The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, + And a delicate dish he made; + Then our appetite with the midshipmite + We seven survivors stayed. + + "And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, + And he much resembled pig; + Then we wittled free, did the cook and me. + On the crew of the captain's gig. + +[Illustration: "FOR DON'T YOU SEE THAT YOU CAN'T COOK ME?"] + + "Then only the cook and me was left, + And the delicate question, 'Which + Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose, + And we argued it out as such. + + "For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, + And the cook he worshipped me; + But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed + In the other chap's hold, you see. + + "'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom. + 'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be. + I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I; + And 'Exactly so,' quoth he. + + "Say he: 'Dear James, to murder me + Were a foolish thing to do, + For don't you see that you can't cook me, + While I can--and will--cook you?' + + "So he boils the water, and takes the salt + And the pepper in portions true + (Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot, + And some sage and, parsley too. + + "'Come here,' says he, with proper pride, + Which his smiling features tell; + "'Twill soothing be if I let you see + How extremely nice you'll smell.' + + "And he stirred it round, and round, and round, + And he sniffed at the foaming froth; + When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals + In the scum of the boiling broth. + + "And I eat that cook in a week or less, + And as I eating be + The last of his chops, why I almost drops, + For a wessel in sight I see. + + * * * * * + + "And I never larf, and I never smile, + And I never lark nor play; + But I sit and croak, and a single joke + I have--which is to say: + + "O, I am a cook and a captain bold + And the mate of the Nancy brig, + And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, + And the crew of the captain's gig!" + + + + +KATEY'S LETTER + +_By_ LADY DUFFERIN + + + Och, girls, did you ever hear + I wrote my love a letter? + And altho' he cannot read, + I thought 'twas all the better. + For why should be he puzzled + With spellin' in the matter, + When the _manin'_ was so plain + I loved him faithfully, + And he knows it--oh, he knows it-- + Without one word from me. + + I wrote it, and I folded it, + And put a seal upon it, + 'Twas a seal almost as big + As the crown of my best bonnet; + For I wouldn't have the postman + Make his remarks upon it, + As I'd said _inside_ the letter + I loved him faithfully, + And he knows it--oh, he knows it-- + Without one word from me. + + My heart was full, but when I wrote + I dare not put the half in; + For the neighbors know I love him, + And they're mighty found of chaffin', + So I dare not write his name _outside_, + For fear they would be laughin', + But wrote, "From little Kate to one + Whom she loves faithfully," + And he knows it--oh, he knows it-- + Without one word from me. + + Now, girls, would you believe it, + That postman so _consated_, + No answer will he bring me, + So long have I waited? + But maybe--there mayn't be one, + Because--as I have stated-- + My love can neither read nor write, + But he loves me faithfully, + And I know, where'er my love is, + That he is true to me. + + + + +THE ARICKARA INDIANS +[Footnote: This description is taken from. Irving's _Astoria_, an +account of early explorations in the Northwest, undertaken under the +management of John Jacob Astor.] + +_By_ WASHINGTON IRVING + + +The village of the Rikaras, [Footnote: The Arickaras, or Rees as they +are now sometimes called, are reduced to a few hundred persons who are, +with the Mandans and other Indians, on a reservation in North Dakota.] +Arickaras, or Ricarees, for the name is thus variously written, is +between the 46th and 47th parallels of north latitude, and fourteen +hundred and thirty miles above the mouth of the Missouri. [Footnote: +This would place the village somewhere near the present site of +Bismarck, North Dakota.] The party reached it about ten o'clock in the +morning, but landed on the opposite side of the river, where they +spread out their baggage and effects to dry. From hence they commanded +an excellent view of the village. It was divided into two portions, +about eighty yards apart, being inhabited by two distinct bands. The +whole extended about three quarters of a mile along the river bank, and +was composed of conical lodges, that looked like so many small +hillocks, being wooden frames intertwined with osier, and covered with +earth. The plain beyond the village swept up into hills of considerable +height, but the whole country was nearly destitute of trees. + +While they were regarding the village, they beheld a singular fleet +coming down the river. It consisted of a number of canoes, each made of +a single buffalo hide stretched on sticks, so as to form a kind of +circular trough. Each one was navigated by a single squaw, who knelt in +the bottom and paddled, towing after her frail bark a bundle of +floating wood intended for firing. This kind of canoe is in frequent +use among the Indians; the buffalo hide being readily made up into a +bundle and transported on horseback; it is very serviceable in +conveying baggage across the rivers. + +The great numbers of horses grazing around the village, and scattered +over the neighboring hills and valleys, bespoke the equestrian habits +of the Arickaras, who are admirable horsemen. Indeed, in the number of +his horses consists the wealth of an Indian of the prairies; who +resembles an Arab in his passion for this noble animal, and in his +adroitness in the management of it. + +After a time, the voice of the sovereign chief, "the Left-handed," was +heard across the river, announcing that the council lodge was preparing +and inviting the white men to come over. The river was half a mile in +width, yet every word uttered by the chieftain was heard; this may be +partly attributed to the distinct manner in which every syllable of the +compound words in the Indian language is articulated and accented; but +in truth, a savage warrior might often rival Achilles himself for force +of lungs. + +The explorers landed amid a rabble crowd, and were received on the bank +by the left-handed chief, who conducted them into the village with +grave courtesy; driving to the right and left the swarms of old squaws, +imp-like boys, and vagabond dogs, with which the place abounded. They +wound their way between the cabins, which looked like dirt-heaps +huddled together without any plan, and surrounded by old palisades; all +filthy in the extreme, and redolent of villainous smells. + +At length they arrived at the council lodge. It was somewhat spacious, +and formed of four forked trunks of trees placed upright, supporting +crossbeams and a frame of poles interwoven with osiers, and the whole +covered with earth. A hole sunken in the centre formed the fireplace, +and immediately above was a circular hole in the apex of the lodge, to +let out the smoke and let in the daylight. Around the lodge were +recesses for sleeping, like the berths on board ships, screened from +view by curtains of dressed skins. At the upper end of the lodge was a +kind of hunting and warlike trophy, consisting of two buffalo heads +garishly painted, surmounted by shields, bows, quivers of arrows, and +other weapons. + +On entering the lodge the chief pointed to mats or cushions which had +been placed around for the strangers, and on which they seated +themselves, while he placed himself on a kind of stool. An old man then +came forward with the pipe of peace or good-fellowship, lighted and +handed it to the chief, and then falling back, squatted himself near +the door. The pipe was passed from mouth to mouth, each one taking a +whiff, which is equivalent to the inviolable pledge of faith, of taking +salt together among the ancient Britons. The chief then made a sign to +the old pipe-bearer, who seemed to fill, likewise, the station of +herald, seneschal, and public crier, for he ascended to the top of the +lodge to make proclamation. Here he took his post beside the aperture +for the emission of smoke and the admission of light; the chief +dictated from within what he was to proclaim, and he bawled it forth +with a force of lungs that resounded over all the village. In this way +he summoned the warriors and great men to council; every now and then +reporting progress to his chief through the hole in the roof. + +In a little while the braves and sages began to enter one by one as +their names were called or announced, emerging from under the buffalo +robe suspended over the entrance instead of a door, stalking across the +lodge to the skins placed on the floor, and crouching down on them in +silence. In this way twenty entered and took their seats, forming an +assemblage worthy of the pencil; for the Arickaras are a noble race of +men, large and well formed, and maintain a savage grandeur and gravity +of demeanor in their solemn ceremonials. + +All being seated, the old seneschal prepared the pipe of ceremony or +council, and having lit it, handed it to the chief. He inhaled the +sacred smoke, gave a puff upward to the heaven, then downward to the +earth, then toward the east; after this it was as usual passed from +mouth to mouth, each holding it respectfully until his neighbor had +taken several whiffs; and now the grand council was considered as +opened in due form. + +The chief made an harangue welcoming the white men to his village, and +expressing his happiness in taking them by the hand as friends; but at +the same time complaining of the poverty of himself and his people; the +usual prelude among Indians to begging or hard bargaining. + +Mr. Hunt then spoke, declaring the object of his journey to the great +Salt Lake beyond the mountains, and that he should want horses for the +purpose, for which he was ready to trade, having brought with him +plenty of goods. He concluded his speech by making presents of tobacco. + +The left-handed chieftain in reply promised his friendship and aid to +the new-comers, and welcomed them to his village. He added that they +had not the number of horses to spare that Mr. Hunt required, and +expressed a doubt whether they should be able to part with any. Upon +this, another chieftain, called Gray Eyes, made a speech, and declared +that they could readily supply Mr. Hunt with all the horses he might +want, since, if they had not enough in the village, they could easily +steal more. This honest expedient immediately removed the main +difficulty; but the chief deferred all trading for a day or two, until +he should have time to consult with his subordinate chiefs, as to +market rates; for the principal chief of a village, in conjunction with +his council, usually fixes the prices at which articles shall be bought +and sold, and to them the village must conform. + +The council now broke up. Mr. Hunt transferred his camp across the +river at a little distance below the village, and the left-handed chief +placed some of his warriors as a guard to prevent the intrusion of any +of his people. The camp was pitched on the river bank just above the +boats. The tents, and the men wrapped in their blankets and bivouacking +on skins in the open air, surrounded the baggage at night. Four +sentinels also kept watch within sight of each other outside of the +camp until midnight, when they were relieved by four others who mounted +guard until daylight. + +[Illustration: TRADING FOR HORSES] + +A trade now commenced with the Arickaras under the regulation and +supervision of their two chieftains. Mr. Hunt established his mart in +the lodge of the Big Man. The village soon presented the appearance of +a busy fair; and as horses were in demand, the purlieus and the +adjacent plain were like the vicinity of a Tartar encampment; horses +were put through all paces, and horsemen were careering about with that +dexterity and grace for which the Arickaras are noted. As soon as a +horse was purchased, his tail was cropped, a sure mode of +distinguishing him from the horses of the tribe; for the Indians +disdain to practice this absurd, barbarous, and indecent mutilation, +invented by some mean and vulgar mind, insensible to the merit and +perfections of the animal. On the contrary, the Indian horses are +suffered to remain in every respect the superb and beautiful animals +which nature formed them. + +The wealth of an Indian of the far west consists principally in his +horses, of which each chief and warrior possesses a great number, so +that the plains about an Indian village or encampment are covered with +them. These form objects of traffic or objects of depredation, and in +this way pass from tribe to tribe over great tracts of country. The +horses owned by the Arickaras are, for the most part, of the wild stock +of the prairies; some, however, had been obtained from the Poncas, +Pawnees, and other tribes to the southwest, who had stolen them from +the Spaniards in the course of horse-stealing expeditions into the +Mexican territories. These were to be known by being branded, a Spanish +mode of marking horses not practised by the Indians. + +As the Arickaras were meditating another expedition against their +enemies the Sioux, the articles of traffic most in demand were guns, +tomahawks, scalping-knives, powder, ball; and other munitions of war. +The price of a horse, as regulated by the chiefs, was commonly ten +dollars' worth of goods at first cost. To supply the demand thus +suddenly created, parties of young men and braves had sallied + forth on expeditions to steal horses; a species of service among the +Indians which takes precedence of hunting, and is considered a +department of honorable warfare. + +While the leaders of the expedition were actively engaged in preparing +for the approaching journey, those who had accompanied it for curiosity +or amusement, found ample matter for observation in the village and its +inhabitants. Wherever they went they were kindly entertained. If they +entered a lodge, the buffalo robe was spread before the fire for them +to sit down; the pipe was brought, and while the master of the lodge +conversed with his guests, the squaw put the earthen vessel over the +fire, well filled with dried buffalo meat and pounded corn; for the +Indian in his native state, before he has mingled much with white men, +and acquired their sordid habits, has the hospitality of the Arab; +never does a stranger enter his door without having food placed before +him; and never is the food thus furnished made a matter of traffic. + +The life of an Indian when at home in his village is a life of +indolence and amusement. To the woman is consigned the labors of the +household and the field; she arranges the lodge; brings wood for the +fire; cooks; jerks venison and buffalo meat; dresses the skins of the +animals killed in the chase; cultivates the little patch of maize, +pumpkins, and pulse, which furnishes a great part of their provisions. +Their time for repose and recreation is at sunset, when, the labors of +the day being ended, they gather together to amuse themselves with +petty games, or hold gossiping convocations on the tops of their +lodges. + +As to the Indian, he is a game animal, not to be degraded by useful or +menial toil. It is enough that he exposes himself to the hardships of +the chase and the perils of war; that he brings home food for his +family, and watches and fights for its protection. Everything else is +beneath his attention. When at home he attends only to his weapons and +his horses, preparing the means of future exploit. Or he engages with +his comrades in games of dexterity, agility and strength; or in +gambling games in which everything is put at hazard, with a +recklessness seldom witnessed in civilized life. + +A great part of the idle leisure of the Indians when at home is passed +in groups, squatted together on the bank of a river, on the top of a +mound on the prairie, or on the roof of one of their earth-covered +lodges, talking over the news of the day, the affairs of the tribe, the +events and exploits of their last hunting or fighting expedition; or +listening to the stories of old times told by some veteran chronicler; +resembling a group of our village quidnuncs and politicians, listening +to the prosings of some superannuated oracle, or discussing the +contents of an ancient newspaper. + +As to the Indian women, they are far from complaining of their lot. On +the contrary, they would despise their husbands should they stoop to +any menial office, and would think it conveyed an imputation upon their +own conduct. It is the worst insult one virago can cast upon another in +a moment of altercation. "Infamous woman!" will she cry, "I have seen +your husband carrying wood into his lodge to make the fire. Where was +his squaw that he should be obliged to make a woman of himself?" + +Mr. Hunt and his fellow-travellers had not been many days at the +Arickara village, when rumors began to circulate that the Sioux had +followed them up, and that a war party, four or five hundred in number, +were lurking somewhere in the neighborhood. These rumors produced much +embarrassment in the camp. The white hunters were deterred from +venturing forth in quest of game, neither did the leaders think it +proper to expose them to such risk. The Arickaras, too, who had +suffered greatly in their wars with this cruel and ferocious tribe, +were roused to increased vigilance, and stationed mounted scouts upon +the neighboring hills. This, however, is a general precaution among the +tribes of the prairies. Those immense plains present a horizon like the +ocean, so that any object of importance can be descried afar, and +information communicated to a great distance. The scouts are stationed +on the hills, therefore, to look out both for game and for enemies, and +are, in a manner, living telegraphs conveying their intelligence by +concerted signs. If they wish to give notice of a herd of buffalo in +the plain beyond, they gallop backward and forward abreast, on the +summit of the hill. If they perceive an enemy at hand they gallop to +and fro, crossing each other; at sight of which the whole village flies +to arms. + +Such an alarm was given in the afternoon of the 15th. Four scouts were +seen crossing and recrossing each other at full gallop, on the summit +of a hill about two miles distant down the river. The cry was up that +the Sioux were coming. In an instant the village was in an uproar. Men, +women, and children were all brawling and shouting; dogs barking, +yelping, and howling. Some of the warriors ran for the horses to gather +and drive them in from the prairie, some for their weapons. As fast as +they could arm and equip they sallied forth; some on horseback, some on +foot; some hastily arrayed in their war dress, with coronets of +fluttering feathers, and their bodies smeared with paint; others naked +and only furnished with the weapons they had snatched up. The women and +children gathered on the tops of the lodges and heightened the +confusion of the scene by their vociferation. Old men who could no +longer bear arms took similar stations, and harangued the warriors as +they passed, exhorting them to valorous deeds. Some of the veterans +took arms themselves, and sallied forth with tottering steps. In this +way, the savage chivalry of the village to the number of five hundred, +poured forth, helter-skelter, riding and running, with hideous yells +and war-whoops, like so many bedlamites or demoniacs let loose. + +After a while the tide of war rolled back, but with far less uproar. +Either it had been a false alarm, or the enemy had retreated on finding +themselves discovered, and quiet was restored to the village. The white +hunters continuing to be fearful of ranging this dangerous +neighborhood, fresh provisions began to be scarce in the camp. As a +substitute, therefore, for venison and buffalo meat, the travellers had +to purchase a number of dogs to be shot and cooked for the supply of +the camp. Fortunately, however chary the Indians might be of their +horses, they were liberal of their dogs. In fact, these animals swarm +about an Indian village as they do about a Turkish town. Not a family +but has two or three dozen belonging to it of all sizes and colors; +some, of a superior breed, are used for hunting; others, to draw the +sledge, while others, of a mongrel breed, and idle vagabond nature, are +fattened for food. They are supposed to be descended from the wolf, and +retain something of his savage but cowardly temper, howling rather than +barking, showing their teeth and snarling on the slightest provocation, +but sneaking away on the least attack. + +The excitement of the village continued from day to day. On the day +following the alarm just mentioned, several parties arrived from +different directions, and were met and conducted by some of the braves +to the council lodge, where they reported the events and success of +their expeditions, whether of war or hunting; which news was afterward +promulgated throughout the village, by certain old men who acted as +heralds or town criers. Among the parties which arrived was one that +had been among the Snake nation stealing horses, and returned crowned +with success. As they passed in triumph through the village they were +cheered by the men, women, and children, collected as usual on the tops +of the lodges, and were exhorted by the Nestors of the village to be +generous in their dealings with the white men. + +The evening was spent in feasting and rejoicing among the relations of +the successful warriors; but sounds of grief and wailing were heard +from the hills adjacent to the village: the lamentations of women who +had lost some relative in the foray. + +An Indian village is subject to continual agitations and excitements. +The next day arrived a deputation of braves from the Cheyenne or +Shienne nation; a broken tribe, cut up, like the Arickaras, by wars +with the Sioux, and driven to take refuge among the Black Hills, near +the sources of the Cheyenne River, from which they derive their name. +One of these deputies was magnificently arrayed in a buffalo robe, on +which various figures were fancifully embroidered with split quills +dyed red and yellow; and the whole was fringed with the slender hoofs +of young fawns, and rattled as he walked. + +The arrival of this deputation was the signal for another of those +ceremonies which occupy so much of Indian life; for no being is more +courtly and punctilious, and more observing of etiquette and +formality than an American savage. + +The object of the deputation was to give notice of an intended visit of +the Shienne (or Cheyenne) tribe to the Arickara village in the course +of fifteen days. To this visit Mr. Hunt looked forward, to procure +additional horses for his journey; all his bargaining being ineffectual +in obtaining a sufficient supply from the Arickaras. Indeed nothing +could prevail upon the latter to part with their prime horses, which +had been trained to buffalo hunting. + +On the 9th of July, just before daybreak, a great noise and +vociferation was heard in the village. This being the usual Indian hour +of attack and surprise, and the Sioux being known to be in the +neighborhood, the camp was instantly on the alert. As the day broke +Indians were descried in considerable numbers on the bluffs, three or +four miles down the river. The noise and agitation in the village +continued. The tops of the lodges were crowded with the inhabitants, +all earnestly looking toward the hills, and keeping up a vehement +chattering. Presently an Indian warrior galloped past the camp toward +the village, and in a little while the legions began to pour forth. + +The truth of the matter was now ascertained. The Indians upon the +distant hills were three hundred Arickara braves returning from a +foray. They had met the war party of Sioux who had been so long +hovering about the neighborhood, had fought them the day before, killed +several, and defeated the rest with the loss of but two or three of +their own men and about a dozen wounded; and they were now halting at a +distance until their comrades in the village should come forth to meet +them, and swell the parade of their triumphal entry. The warrior who +had galloped past the camp was the leader of the party hastening home +to give tidings of his victory. + +Preparations were now made for this great martial ceremony. All the +finery and equipments of the warriors were sent forth to them, that +they might appear to the greatest advantage. Those, too, who had +remained at home, tasked their wardrobes and toilets to do honor to the +procession. + +The Arickaras generally go naked, but, like all savages, they have +their gala dress, of which they are not a little vain. This usually +consists of a gray surcoat and leggins of the dressed skin of the +antelope, resembling chamois leather, and embroidered with porcupine +quills brilliantly dyed. A buffalo robe is thrown over the right +shoulder, and across the left is slung a quiver of arrows. They wear +gay coronets of plumes, particularly those of the swan; but the +feathers of the black eagle are considered the most worthy, being a +sacred bird among the Indian warriors. He who has killed an enemy in +his own land is entitled to drag at his heels a fox-skin attached to +each moccasin; and he who has slain a grizzly bear wears a necklace of +his claws, the most glorious trophy that a hunter can exhibit. + +An Indian toilet is an operation of some toil and trouble; the warrior +often has to paint himself from head to foot, and is extremely +capricious and difficult to please, as to the hideous distribution of +streaks and colors. A great part of the morning, therefore, passed away +before there were any signs of the distant pageant. In the mean time a +profound stillness reigned over the village. Most of the inhabitants +had gone forth; others remained in mute expectation. All sports and +occupations were suspended, excepting that in the lodges the +painstaking squaws were silently busied in preparing the repasts for +the warriors. + +It was near noon that a mingled sound of voices and rude music, faintly +heard from a distance, gave notice that the procession was on the +march. The old men and such of the squaws as could leave their +employments hastened forth to meet it. In a little while it emerged +from behind a hill, and had a wild and picturesque appearance as it +came moving over the summit in measured step, and to the cadence of +songs and savage instruments; the warlike standards and trophies +flaunting aloft, and the feathers, and paint, and silver ornaments of +the warriors glaring and glittering in the sunshine. + +[Illustration: RETURN OF THE WARRIORS] + +The pageant had really something chivalrous in its arrangement. The +Arickaras are divided into several bands, each bearing the name of some +animal or bird, as the buffalo, the bear, the dog, the pheasant. The +present party consisted of four of these bands, one of which was the +dog, the most esteemed in war, being composed of young men under +thirty, and noted for prowess. It is engaged on the most desperate +occasions. The bands marched in separate bodies under their several +leaders. The warriors on foot came first, in platoons of ten or twelve +abreast; then the horsemen. Each band bore as an ensign a spear or bow +decorated with beads, porcupine quills and painted feathers. Each bore +its trophies of scalps, elevated on poles, their long black locks +streaming in the wind. Each was accompanied by its rude music and +minstrelsy. In this way the procession extended nearly a quarter of a +mile. The warriors were variously armed, some few with guns, others +with bows and arrows, and war clubs; all had shields of buffalo hide, a +kind of defence generally used by the Indians of the open prairies, who +have not the covert of trees and forests to protect them. They were +painted in the most savage style. Some had the stamp of a red hand +across their mouths, a sign that they had drunk the life-blood of a +foe! + +As they drew near to the village the old men and the women began to +meet them, and now a scene ensued that proved the fallacy of the old +fable of Indian apathy and stoicism. Parents and children, husbands and +wives, brothers and sisters met with the most rapturous expressions of +joy; while wailings and lamentations were heard from the relatives of +the killed and wounded. The procession, however, continued on with slow +and measured step, in cadence to the solemn chant, and the warriors +maintained their fixed and stern demeanor. + +Between two of the principal chiefs rode a young warrior who had +distinguished himself in the battle. He was severely wounded, so as +with difficulty to keep on his horse; but he preserved a serene and +steadfast countenance, as if perfectly unharmed. His mother had heard +of his condition. She broke through the throng, and rushing up, threw +her arms around him and wept aloud. He kept up the spirit and demeanor +of a warrior to the last, but expired shortly after he had reached his +home. + +The village was now a scene of the utmost festivity and triumph. The +banners, and trophies, and scalps, and painted shields were elevated on +poles near the lodges. There were war-feasts and scalp-dances, with +warlike songs and savage music; all the inhabitants were arrayed in +their festal dresses; while the old heralds went round from lodge to +lodge, promulgating with loud voices the events of the battle and the +exploits of the various warriors. + +Such was the boisterous revelry of the village; but sounds of another +kind were heard on the surrounding hills; piteous wailings of the +women, who had retired thither to mourn in darkness and solitude for +those who had fallen in battle. There the poor mother of the youthful +warrior who had returned home in triumph but to die, gave full vent to +the anguish of a mother's heart. How much does this custom among the +Indian women of repairing to the hill tops in the night, and pouring +forth their wailings for the dead, call to mind the beautiful and +affecting passage of Scripture, "In Rama was there a voice heard, +lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her +children, and would not be comforted, because they are not." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Journeys Through Bookland +Volume Four +by Charles H. Sylvester + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND V4 *** + +This file should be named 7013-8.txt or 7013-8.zip + +Produced by William Koven, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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